Rosalind shivered as she unpinned her waist-length brown hair. Though it was the fashion to cut hair at least to shoulder-blade length, Rosalind had never felt the urge to do so. The problem with that, however, was that it weighed heavily against the dozen pins she used to keep it in place. It was always a blessed relief to release it at the end of each day.
“Just you be glad you weren’t standing behind hot irons all day today,” Nanci said. “Every time I turned around, another woman was needing her dress pressed.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Rosalind said, thinking about the ladies who had been in the house. “There were more women here than I could shake a stick at.”
Nanci chuckled at her country phrase. “Like I said, it’s bound to continue, fair or no fair. Mrs. Sloane is determined to marry off Veronica as soon as possible. Add that to all the ladies who want their daughters to have Douglass? We’re certain to always have a house full of guests now.”
“I’m already even more exhausted just thinking about it,” Rosalind teased. But still, this evening’s party had been exciting, even from her vantage point, which was firmly in the background.
The Sloanes’ dinner for forty-eight had kept all of them on their toes—and their tongues wagging too. Each young lady looked beautiful, and their mothers were just as handsome and well turned out. One by one they had alighted from their carriages and strolled into the home’s brightly lit entryway in an array of exquisitely styled taffeta and satin gowns, each jewel-colored dress seeming to have more yards of fabric than the last.
The men by their sides wore black tuxedos and top hats, white gloves, and bored expressions.
Together, the group looked like something out of a picture post-card or one of the society magazines Miranda used to spend too much money on and examine in awe.
Thinking of how much Miranda must have enjoyed seeing the gowns at parties when she worked there, she mused, “The ladies looked bright and beautiful. Truly lovely.”
“That they did.”
“Did you notice Mrs. Anderson’s bustle?” Rosalind mused, thinking back to the petite woman dressed in unrelieved black. “It was very stylish for a lady in mourning.”
Nanci wrinkled her nose as she continued to pull the horsehair brush through her caramel-colored tresses. “From the way her cheeks were blooming, I wouldn’t put it past her to already be looking for a new man.”
The thought was appalling. Turning to Nanci, Rosalind shook her head. “Surely not. I mean, ladies in mourning are the same everywhere, don’t you think? No amount of money could ever bring back a cherished husband.”
“You’ve got to learn about life here at Sloane House. The people who live here aren’t like anyone you’ve ever met, and some of their friends are even more outlandish.” Lowering her voice, she cast a concerned eye at the door, just as if she imagined someone was listening at the keyhole. “You should prepare yourself to be shocked.”
“By what?”
Looking as if she’d said something she shouldn’t, Nanci shook her head. “Never you mind that.”
“You’re not going to even give me a hint? Perhaps I should consider looking through some of those keyholes.”
“Don’t you ever do that,” Nanci said, her voice hard. “Some things go on here that you don’t want to know about. Ever. And I shudder to imagine what would happen to you if one of the family discovered you were spying on them.”
“I was only joking.” It was all Rosalind could do not to shake off the words with a bit of a nervous giggle. Never before had she received a warning like that. Had Miranda been warned like this? Was that what had frightened her so?
Looking a bit chagrined, Nanci spoke more lightly. “I hope I didn’t scare you none. I don’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that a home like this is a big change from your life in Wisconsin. The people here do things a bit different too. And if you don’t get used to it, well, it can cause a lot of problems in the long run.”
Nanci’s change of tone gave Rosalind confidence to ask questions.
“Is that what happened to Miranda? Did she never get used to things here?”
“Miranda refused to listen to reason. That’s what happened with her. If she would have listened in the first place, it would have saved her a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, though. Just like you suggested.”
“Good. You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you anytime soon!”
“Thank you for that.”
Now dressed in her nightgown, Nanci crawled into her narrow bed. “We should get some sleep, since tomorrow is sure to be wonderful.”
“I’d almost forgotten.”
“I don’t know how! Can you believe our luck? We both get tomorrow afternoon and evening off. And Mr. Sloane has given us tickets for admission to the fair and tokens for the midway!”
Just a few hours before, Mr. and Mrs. Sloane had lined up all the staff and presented each member with tokens and tickets for both the fair admission and the Ferris wheel in the midway. Even the most senior members of the staff had trouble containing their excitement.
Mr. Hodgeson and Mrs. Abrams had then, in turn, made up a schedule that allowed a few of them at a time to visit the fair, in addition to their usual half day off once a week. Nanci and Rosalind were paired together.
The idea of going to the fair was tremendously exciting . . . and terribly hard for Rosalind to accept. She didn’t feel she should do anything other than hunt for Miranda or work. Taking part in even the most harmless of amusements felt wrong.
But perhaps she could show her sister’s daguerreotype to a few of the workers while she was there. It was a long shot, to be sure, but at least it was an attempt to find some answers. As Nanci continued to prattle on, Rosalind tried to look excited too. But as she washed her face and then got under her sheet, her mind drifted to other things. About how she used to share her bed at home with Miranda.
And how at the moment, the cold cotton settling against her skin felt like ice despite the warmth of the room. Whether it was the coolness of the sheet or the direction of her thoughts, Rosalind felt her skin break out in chill bumps. A tremor coursed through her as her body attempted to warm itself. Thinking about how cold their attic room would be when winter came . . . Oh, what she’d give then for just one of the down comforters that were in the guest rooms, not to mention how wonderful it would be to have a fireplace in a bedroom like Veronica did.
Yet she should know better than to not count her blessings. She was lucky, and that was the truth. Back home, the work was just as hard, only there was little gaiety or anything to break up the days. Early morning brought milking, then the hard labor of sterilizing the buckets and milking areas. Afterward, a long line of chores blended each day into the next, and all the while she was pestered by her younger brothers. Only gardening gave her much pleasure.
But the worst part was sitting at her parents’ table and feeling their despair and exhaustion cloud the room. Her mother, though not even forty, looked twenty years older. Her father’s perpetually grim expression was weighted down with the burdens of the nation’s recession and the responsibility of caring for the four children still at home.
And then, of course, there was the ever-present worry about Miranda. From the time her dear sister’s letters had stopped arriving, Rosalind had tossed and turned at night and worried and fretted. She had to find her. She had to. Or she had to discover what had become of her. There was no choice.
After the kerosene lamp was dimmed and their attic room was wrapped in darkness, Rosalind finally remembered to tell Nanci her news. “Guess what? I talked to Douglass the other day.”
“Oh? Where did you see him?”
“In the east hallway. I turned around, and there he was. He remembered my name.”
“Did he?”
Rosalind noticed that Nanci wasn’t responding the way she’d imagined she would. Instead of teasing Rosalind, she
almost sounded . . . jealous?
“We didn’t say much to each other.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing.” Now Rosalind wished she’d never even brought it up, and she was glad she’d never told Nanci about her first encounter with Douglass. “I had just delivered Miss Veronica’s tray. He wished me good morning.”
“Ah. Well, he would. He’s special that way,” Nanci replied in a much warmer tone. “I bet he was just curious about the new maid in the house.”
She certainly hoped that was still the case, though something about him had made her feel a little uncomfortable again. “What’s he like?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem to know him well. What’s special about him?”
Nanci laughed softly. “Douglass is the master’s son. That’s why he is special, silly. That’s all that matters, anyway.”
“No, I mean, is he kind? Mean? Have you ever talked with him?”
“Talked with him?”
“Yes. I mean, you’ve worked here for two years. Surely you’ve had occasion to speak to him once or twice. What do you know about him?” Rosalind bit her tongue so she wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“I know he likes his shoes polished every Thursday until they shine. He likes his eggs poached and his fireplace swept clean daily. At least, he did back when I was just a house maid.”
“Come now, you have to know something more.”
“Actually . . . I do,” Nanci said after a moment’s pause. “Mr. Douglass has been seein’ someone special, but I hear he don’t care for her hoity-toity ways all that much.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve even been told that he doesn’t always find all those ladies to his taste.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.” Lowering her voice, Nanci added, “I’ve never told anyone this, but once I noticed him smiling my way.”
Eager for more, Rosalind pounced on that bit of information. “Oh? And what did you do?”
“Why, I smiled just as sweet as you please right back, that’s what I did.”
Rosalind was disappointed by the answer, but promptly pushed her reaction aside. “I would have been too surprised to do anything but stand there with a smile. I was practically shaking in my boots and all I was trying to do was stay out of his way.”
“Don’t worry, Rosalind. Before you know it, you’ll understand how everything works in this house. You’ll know when to smile and know when to stay in the shadows.” Before Rosalind could comment on that, Nanci said, “Well, we’d best stop talking and get to sleep. It’d be a pity if we was too worn out to enjoy our afternoon and evening off.”
Dutifully, Rosalind closed her eyes. But all she could think about were Nanci’s words about knowing how to get along in the house. She wondered if Miranda had ever learned all the rules to working in the household.
And what might have happened if she hadn’t.
“Lord, please be with Miranda,” Rosalind whispered into the darkness. “Please keep her safe, free from harm.” As disturbing images swirled in her head, and as she recalled how Miranda had written about the Sloanes’ power and the way they did things, she added one more plea. “Or at least free from pain.”
CHAPTER 6
The World’s Columbian Exposition was far bigger than Rosalind had ever imagined. From the majestic fountains greeting visitors at the entrance to the vast array of animals and foreigners, there was plenty for all to see. Each stately columned building was filled with remarkable machinery and exotic inventions from faraway locales. The papers proclaimed that a person could spend two weeks at the fair and still not see everything.
Rosalind imagined that to be true.
Each stately building glowed in ethereal white, encouraging even the most hardened of gentlemen and women to speak in soft, respectful tones. The giant buildings, each glimmering in the twilight, promised magical wonders within. Together, their arrangement produced a unique serenity that soothed one’s soul.
Yet what kept Rosalind mesmerized was the great number of people. Ladies and maids, gentlemen and dockworkers, children and soldiers all filled the area. But instead of being worried about the crowds, for the first time since her arrival in Chicago, Rosalind felt her spirits lift. She wished she could live in the White City.
Nanci felt the same way. “It’s a shame we can’t come back again tomorrow,” Nanci said with a pout. “We’ve walked so far and have only visited a few of the states’ buildings. I’ve a mind to visit Pennsylvania’s display next. We need to see the Liberty Bell, don’t you think?”
Nanci had been that way all afternoon, holding her Columbian Exposition newspaper tightly in one hand while pointing out sights and sounds with the other.
“Perhaps one day we’ll get to come again. You never know,” Rosalind ventured, though in truth, she had no idea how she would ever get to visit again. She’d neither the funds nor the opportunity to visit twice.
“Perhaps.” With a sigh, Nanci reached for her hand, and together they traipsed over gravel walkways and picturesque bridges. “Since the newspaper says the lines are long for the Liberty Bell, let’s make our way to the midway. I hear Blarney Castle is right magical.”
Their journey to the other end of the park took quite some time. It was impossible not to stop often to investigate different sights and sounds.
It was also impossible for Rosalind not to scan every face that passed, on the off chance that she’d find her sister. She carried the small photo she had of Miranda in her reticule, though fearing she was on a fool’s errand. The one time she dared show it to a vendor while Nanci was looking elsewhere, he laughed heartily at her question, saying thousands of people passed him each day.
The situation felt overwhelming. Rosalind wasn’t very brave. She wasn’t very good at subterfuge. Every time she left the confines of the grand mansion, she became more and more aware that she had a very limited view of the world.
In Wisconsin, she’d spent the majority of her time with either animals or her family. Here in Chicago, it seemed very few people ever spent time with their own kin. Instead, they chose to flit here and there, to accept jobs in a city that was dangerous and exciting. They’d made the choice to try something new, to be in strange surroundings.
She, on the other hand, was there only because her family was that desperate. After her father made a short trip to Chicago and could not convince either Mr. or Mrs. Sloane or the police to help him find Miranda, she’d been the only person in her family who could leave the farm and look for her. So she’d gone, not because she was the best choice, but because she was the only choice.
And now, as each day passed, she worried that perhaps she was merely making things worse. In many ways, she feared she was going to let her parents down, her whole family down. And most of all, Miranda herself.
As the sights and the sounds of the fair surrounded her, Rosalind’s earlier fascination disappeared. She felt almost claustrophobic. There were too many people, too close together.
Nanci, however, seemed to glow from her excitement. “Do you hear them folks behind us?” she asked when they were standing in a line of at least twenty deep for cider. “I think they’re speaking Chinese!”
“How do you know what Chinese sounds like?”
“I don’t, but I’ve got a good imagination!”
Despite her fears, Rosalind laughed. “That you do, Nanci. You have a very good imagination.”
“You need to relax and learn to look around you a bit, you know,” Nanci warned. “Here you are at the one place in the world where everyone is coming together, and you’re looking as if you’re about to jump out of your skin!”
Rosalind was in awe of the many foreigners who wandered through the buildings. But instead of looking at them like prospective friends as Nanci did, she looked at them as possible kidnappers. She couldn’t help it. Her sister’s disappearance made her fear and distrust almost everyone.
“I can’t wait to see the belly dancer
s,” Nanci whispered. “I heard the women wear veils too.”
After they each got a cold glass of cider, they sipped their drinks near one of the many parks and viewing areas. “We need to see as much as we possibly can, Rosalind.” Without stopping for air, Nanci continued. “And, of course, I’m eager to see all the curious people and animals. Do we dare visit the Egyptian temple?”
At last, Rosalind felt herself getting more excited about their adventure as well. “I’ll go wherever you would like.”
“There’s a girl. I knew you’d get the hang of things sooner or later.”
“I guess it’s finally happened then.” Picking up a handout a previous visitor had tossed to the ground, Rosalind’s eyes grew wide. “But perhaps we could take in one of the many shows today? I see there’s an opera here.”
Nanci wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never been much for opera.” Pointing to another flyer that littered the ground, she said, “But I would like to see the funhouse.”
“And the wax museum.”
Nanci moaned. “There’s so much to see. Do you think Mrs. Sloane will notice if we don’t come home tonight?”
“Only if her dress isn’t pressed for tomorrow,” Rosalind joked. Truly, she couldn’t imagine what her employers would do if she and Nanci stayed very late at the fair. They might wonder if they were missing, like Miranda and Tilly.
As they approached the entrance to the midway, they both looked at the giant Ferris wheel looming over them. It was a massive structure. Each enclosed car held sixty people. As it revolved in its lit splendor, Rosalind blanched. “Should we go on the wheel now?”
Nanci shuddered. “I don’t care that we got tokens. The thought of being so high up scares me to death.”
They’d just passed the signs for Wild Bill Cody’s Wild West Show when Rosalind felt her heart jump . . . but this time because of something far different than a fear of heights.
Approaching them were Douglass Sloane and his gentleman friend, Reid Armstrong. Gripping her friend’s hand, she whispered, “Nanci, that’s Douglass Sloane coming this way.”
Secrets of Sloane House Page 5
