Secrets of Sloane House

by Gray, Shelley

  As he’d hoped, Veronica’s shoulders stiffened and the lines around her lips whitened. But at last she did what he’d hoped she would—she turned to the person on her left and began conversing.

  Eloisa was seated on his right. As he took another bite of fish, she leaned toward him. “That was a tad harsh, Mr. Armstrong.”

  “I know, and I am sorry for it.” Rather, he was sorry she’d heard him.

  She shook her head slightly, the movement making the diamond pins nestled in her golden coiffure sparkle in the candlelight’s glow. “Oh, I didn’t mean you should apologize for it. It was deserved.”

  There was nothing he could say to that without seeming more of a cad. “Tell me, how is your brother enjoying his European tour? My sister, Beth, seems to be enjoying her visit to Paris immensely.” As conversational transitions went, it was poorly executed. Yet he gazed at her, hoping to convey without words his need to move on.

  She didn’t disappoint. Eloisa paused, then smiled graciously. “Currently, Thomas is in Italy. In Venice. Would you care to hear about his latest letter?”

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  She began a somewhat amusing anecdote that involved her brother, a stray cat, and some unfortunate valet with an allergy. Looking at her pretty expression and her perfect manners, Reid breathed a sigh of relief. Eloisa was everything gracious and kind—the opposite of Veronica Sloane with her skeletal frame, caustic conversation, and harsh criticism of anything and everyone.

  Hours later in the ballroom, Veronica strolled by with one of Douglass’s more reprobate acquaintances. “Forgive me for embarrassing you earlier, Reid,” she said. “I had only been wondering if you knew about our Rosalind.”

  “What about her?”

  “She is gone.”

  Icy fear made his voice overly loud. “Has she gone missing?”

  Veronica flinched while her escort looked mildly intrigued. “Gone missing?” An eyebrow arched. “Heavens, no. She was fired.”

  “Fired?” he barked.

  “Have a care, Armstrong. There are ladies present,” Veronica’s escort cautioned.

  Reid didn’t care who heard him. “On what grounds?”

  Veronica smiled so broadly, her top teeth gleamed in the glow of the candles. “For her poor behavior, of course. For some reason, she couldn’t keep away from the gentlemen. It caused quite a stir.”

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t think she’ll ever learn how to be a lady.” Then she smirked. “I’m sorry, I meant a lady’s maid.”

  “Where did she go?”

  All traces of amusement fled from her face. “Where does any woman go when she has little money, no friends, and no job?”

  “That was practically a death sentence.”

  “It was hardly that.” She sniffed. “But I do have a feeling she’s wishing right now that she’d done a few things differently. I’ve heard the streets can be unkind to a woman on her own.”

  The man beside her grinned. “You should have sent her my way, Veronica. If she isn’t ugly I would have given her shelter. At least for an hour or two.”

  “Perhaps she found someone else to do the honors?” With another backward glance at Reid, Veronica circled her hands around the gentleman’s arm and walked away.

  Leaving Reid to stand in fuming silence. Thinking what he thought to be the worst . . . and then fearing things even worse than that.

  CHAPTER 25

  Rosalind spent her first night away from Sloane House in a small room in a cheap hotel five blocks from Michigan Avenue. Trying to find lodging so late in the day had been humbling. Walking the streets, carpetbag in her hand, had garnered her far more attention than she’d been prepared for. More than one man had lewdly propositioned her. Others had looked at her stuffed bag with a critical eye.

  Rosalind had feared they were planning to either snatch it out of her hands or follow her into a dark alleyway. Just as bad, she knew she was wearing that same lost look she’d worn the first day she’d arrived in the city. And that expression, of course, was the altogether worst expression to have. It set her up for a great many dangers.

  With each step, she was learning that though she’d had a great many experiences in Chicago, had thought she had grown into someone more confident, she hadn’t really changed at all. She still felt lost and hopelessly alone.

  Her first two attempts at finding lodging had failed horribly. One place was at full capacity and the other was not interested in housing someone like her. The landlady at her third stop must have seen something in Rosalind’s expression that softened her mood, because she reluctantly rented her a room—for a full dollar over the advertised price. Rosalind had been so scared and weary she hadn’t bothered to argue. Instead, she paid the fee, carried her bag to her room, and praised God that her room had a secure lock.

  Now, in the early light of a new day, her mind was clearer and she felt a new resolve.

  No matter how afraid she was, she couldn’t leave Chicago without trying harder to fulfill her mission. She needed to discover what had happened to Miranda. And at this point, she needed to be willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goal.

  That meant she needed to swallow her pride, find Reid Armstrong, and ask for his assistance. Knowing that she couldn’t simply find his home and knock on the door because she didn’t have his address, she went to the only place where she had a reasonable expectation of finding him and could wait for him safely—the church where she’d watched him sing in the choir.

  After putting on her best dress, Rosalind pinned and smoothed her hair as best she could and carried her carpetbag down the narrow, rickety stairs. Even going down the stairs took some negotiating. There was no way she was going to carry her bag all over Chicago if she didn’t have to.

  She found the landlady in the dining room, serving coffee. “There you are,” the woman said. “You going to be wanting breakfast? A quarter will get you coffee, toast, eggs, and bacon.”

  The food sounded heavenly, and the aroma reminded her that she’d missed dinner the night before. “Thank you.” She took a seat at a small table in the back of the room.

  A few minutes later, a young girl who looked to be no older than nine or ten brought out a dish of eggs and bacon and a large cup of coffee. Rosalind thanked her and dug in. The coffee was hot and rich, and the eggs and bacon were far better than she’d anticipated. When she was about halfway done, the landlady brought her a small plate filled with three slices of toast.

  “Eat up, dear,” she said in a kind, frazzled way. “You look like a strong wind could blow you away.”

  “It’s very good.”

  Rosalind ate every last crumb. After all, there was no guarantee that she was going to have much luck finding Reid anytime soon.

  When the landlady came by again, she asked, “Ma’am, could I leave my suitcase here for a few hours?”

  “You don’t want to spend another night?”

  “I’d rather not if I don’t have to. I’m on a strict budget.”

  “Where are you going instead?”

  “I’m hoping to stay with a friend.” When the woman’s expression darkened with distaste, Rosalind felt her cheeks flush. She knew what she sounded like. Only women with bad reputations had no real lodging plans. Knowing she was about to be asking for Mr. Armstrong’s charity didn’t make things easier.

  However, if there was one thing she’d learned during her time in Chicago, it was that far worse things could happen to a woman than a loss of reputation. Besides, soon she would be returning to Wisconsin and no one’s opinion of her in Chicago would really matter.

  “I have no desire to hold on to your bag indefinitely,” she warned.

  “I’ll be back by five or six.”

  “I can’t be guaranteeing that I’ll have a room for you then.”

  “I understand.” She stood up and grasped the handle of her worn carpetbag. “Where may I stow this?”

  “Follow me.” The landlady led her
through the dining room down the hallway and came to a stop at a door that was marked with a sign that said “Private.”

  “I’ll put your case in here. Until 5:00 p.m.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be back by then. I promise.”

  After setting the suitcase inside the door, the woman walked her out. “I hope you know what you’re doing, miss. Chicago is a dangerous place. Especially for green girls like you.”

  “Oh, I’m far less naive than one might think,” Rosalind stated.

  The woman rested her hands on generous hips and eyed her more closely. “You know what? I think that might be true. Best of luck to you today.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled tightly, then strode out the front door. She had roughly nine hours to find Reid Armstrong and to try to convince him to help her—or get back there to pick up her belongings.

  If it look longer than that to find Reid?

  She was going to run out of both time and money.

  Reid was in a panic. So much so, he’d broken down and told his father everything at his bedside that morning, right after visiting Sloane House and learning nothing from the staff about where Rosalind may have gone.

  The moment everything was off his chest, guilt surrounded him. His father was ill. He likely had only a few more weeks to live. He didn’t need to be burdened with Reid’s problems.

  But instead of looking wearier, his father looked almost rejuvenated. Reaching out, he clasped Reid by the hand. “Help me sit up, son.”

  Reid did as he was bid, fluffing pillows behind his father’s back and trying to find a way to apologize at the same time. Finally, he said what was in his heart. “I’m sorry for burdening you like this.”

  “You’re not burdening me, son. Actually, I think you might even be helping me.”

  “I don’t see how that would be the case.”

  “Truth be told, for the first time in weeks, I’m thinking about something other than my pain and impending death.”

  Reid could barely hide his wince. “Father, don’t speak that way.”

  “It’s the truth, son. We know my days are numbered.” He shook his head impatiently when he saw that Reid was preparing to argue that point. “Enough about me. Where do you think Rosalind is right now?”

  “I have no idea. She could be anywhere. Walking the streets or in some cheap room.” He lowered his voice. “At some man’s mercy.”

  His father scowled. “Son, you’re not thinking clearly. Stop letting your fears get the best of you and think.”

  “I have been thinking.”

  “Think harder. You’re a smart man. At least, you used to be.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, let’s review everything you do know. Is she the type of woman to have already left Chicago?”

  That was one thing he definitely did not need to ponder. “No. There is no way Rosalind would leave right now. Not without trying at least one more time to locate her sister.”

  “Good. It’s about time you started using your God-given smarts. Now that you know that, where would she look? Who would she talk to? Who would she ask for help?”

  Reid replied after thinking for a moment. “At first I was going to say she’d go to the fair, but now I’m not so sure about that. Rosalind told me she’s already gone there several times without any luck.” He paused, then said slowly, “Actually, Father, I think she would try to find me.”

  “Because you’ve offered to help her?”

  “Yes,” Reid said, finding talking out his thoughts to be beneficial. “And because I think she trusts me.”

  “Does she know where you live? Should we alert the staff that she might be stopping by?”

  “I think that would be a good idea, though I don’t believe she has our address.” Mentally, he cursed himself. How could he have been so thoughtless?

  “Where else would she try to find you?”

  “Most every time we’ve spoken, it was at Sloane House. Of course she wouldn’t find me there . . .” Then it came to him. “But the last time we talked, it was at church.”

  “You took her to church?”

  Reid chuckled. “No.” Briefly, he relayed the story of Rosalind getting caught in the fray on the sidewalk and entering the church for safety.

  “That’s it,” his father said excitedly. “It has to be. If Rosalind is the woman you believe her to be, then that is the safest place for her. She’ll go there because she trusts it. And she trusts you.”

  “Dad, I think you might be right.”

  “I’m certain I am,” his father replied with a gleam in his eye. “Now, when you do find Rosalind, bring her back here. She can stay with us.”

  “I don’t know if she’ll trust me enough to come, but I’ll ask.”

  “Do whatever it takes, Reid. I want to meet this girl, and you need to help her. My gosh, someone needs to help that poor child.” Grabbing the bell by his bed, he shook it with a new vigor.

  Looking a bit alarmed, Redmond, his father’s longtime valet, appeared. “Yes, sir?”

  “Go find Watterson. I need to speak with him. And you’d best call for Mrs. Griffin too.” Looking spryer than he had in weeks, his father snapped his fingers. “Don’t dally, now. We don’t have much time.”

  After glancing curiously at Reid, Redmond nodded. “Right away, sir.”

  When they were alone again, Reid leaned back in the chair beside his father’s bed and crossed his legs. “A lot of people would say that a mere maid’s problems aren’t ours. But instead of pushing her aside, you’re offering to help her. You are a remarkable man, Father.”

  His dad grunted. “It’s good you realized that before I’m gone.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve known that for quite some time.”

  “How long?”

  “At least a few days.”

  His father chuckled. “At least it’s not a recent development.” Turning more somber, he added, “Seriously, as I’ve been sitting in this bed, I’ve had a lot of time to think about all the things I had thought were important. Ever since our financial situation improved, I wanted to be sure that you had every opportunity I didn’t. I wanted you to be able to attend the finest schools, to be accepted in places that would never accept me.”

  “And that happened.”

  “Yes, but at what cost? I have to admit there have been moments when I’ve wondered if I’ve pushed you toward a life that was bright but meaningless. Beautiful but empty. To my regret, I wasn’t even sure you should be part of that choir. I didn’t think you would make enough connections there.”

  Reid knew he’d made the most important connection at the church—a connection with his Holy Father. “I’ve respected your wishes for me, but inside I knew I needed to be there. Maybe it was so I’d be there for Rosalind.”

  “That looks to be a very good possibility.”

  Further conversation was delayed by the return of Redmond, with the housekeeper and butler in tow. They stood at attention, their postures straight, their expressions worried and grim.

  “You called for us, sir?” Watterson said.

  “There is a very good possibility that a young woman might be calling at our house today.”

  “Yes, sir?” Mrs. Griffin asked. Only the slight inflection of her voice betrayed her confusion.

  “If she does pay a call, I want you to invite her inside and make sure she doesn’t leave. She will be here to see Reid.”

  The housekeeper looked indignant. “We would never turn away a lady. Even if she doesn’t know it’s not proper for her to be visiting a gentleman’s home.”

  “This lady’s name is Rosalind. Rosalind Pettit. She will most likely be dressed as a housemaid.”

  All three servants looked askance. “Yes, Master Reid,” Watterson said.

  His father cleared his throat. “No matter what she looks like, I want her to be treated with respect.”

  “She is a friend of mine, and she is in a bit of a difficult situation,” Reid explained. “Actually, I wouldn’t be sur
prised if she arrived at the back entrance.” He paused, choosing his words with care. “Please treat her with kindness. Many people have not done so.”

  All three servants nodded, each one looking more curious than the last. Reid was tempted to tell them a bit more but decided against it. This was Rosalind’s business, and he wasn’t even sure how much her situation should become common knowledge.

  When they left, he sighed and stood up. “Father, I’m going to take your advice and go to the church and wait.”

  “In the meantime, if she shows up here, we’ll send word to you. I’ll fill your mother in on the latest events as well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s hope she reaches out to you, son.” He nodded. “Indeed, you—and the church—are her best chances for survival.”

  Reid knew his father wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. As brave as Rosalind was, Reid knew she was really only a young farm girl on her own in the middle of a big city. Her innocence and the sense of betrayal she surely had to feel were a dangerous combination. It could even propel her to make some poor decisions. “I shudder to think about what will happen if she doesn’t reach out.”

  “None of that, now. You need to stay positive. Focused. I will pray. If we do those things, I know we’ll find her. And once we do that, we will all put our heads together and try to figure out what happened to her sister. And we will. I’m sure of it.”

  Reid was humbled by both his father’s trust in the Lord and his hope for their success. Once again, he was reminded that he had a lot to learn to become the man his father was.

  He only hoped there would be enough time to learn even more. He needed his father, just as he needed their Father in heaven. “Well, I’m off,” he said. He marched downstairs, took his hat from Watterson, and strode out the door.

  The moment he stepped outside, he was struck at just how bright the sun was shining. He blinked a bit, letting his eyes adjust to the daylight. Took time to look around him, take in the beauty of the morning.

  Yes, the day was beautiful. The trees and shrubs surrounding their home were neatly trimmed and flowers bordered the estate like vibrant ribbons. Few people drove along the streets. It was almost quiet.