“Eloisa, perhaps I misspoke. What I meant to say is that I think an, uh, alliance between the two of us would be beneficial to both of us.”
She neatly folded her hands. “A beneficial alliance? You intrigue me.” Yet the tone of her voice indicated she was feeling anything but intrigued.
“I hold you in high esteem.”
“We hardly know each other, Mr. Armstrong.”
“That can be remedied.”
“It could, if we both wanted that.”
“I do.” As soon as he heard his tone, he winced. He didn’t sound as enthused as he sounded resigned. “I mean, I would like to get to know you better.”
“Ah.” She stared at him a good, long time. Then a new light of amusement lit her pale blue eyes. “And your other reason to see me?”
He paused, mentally debating whether to divulge Rosalind’s secret or to keep it to himself a little longer. Rosalind desperately needed to know there was someone she could trust, and he was reluctant to break her faith in him.
However, he also knew time was of the essence, and that Eloisa Carstairs was the type of woman to help Rosalind’s search in any way she could.
Surely Rosalind would care more about that than anything else?
Taking a deep breath, he plunged ahead. “I’ve stumbled upon a housemaid down on her luck and I need your help.”
“Care to explain?”
“Her name is Rosalind. Rosalind Pettit, but now that I think about it, I’m not even sure if that is her real name,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she was a maid for the Sloane family, but she was only there to investigate the disappearance of her sister.”
“Investigate? Is she sleuthing?”
“She is. Well, she was. Her sister, Miranda, obtained a job at the Sloane mansion for two months and was sending money home. She disappeared, though. Without a trace.”
Eloisa leaned forward, her expression intent. Her attention obviously riveted. “What do you mean, without a trace?”
“One day, she simply wasn’t there.”
“What about her belongings?”
“Most of them were left behind.”
“Still, she probably ran off. Some maids do that . . .”
“Rosalind’s father came to Chicago and visited the house. The Sloanes were vague and disinterested, the police even less so.”
“Yes, if they thought the sister merely left.”
“However, Rosalind’s father believed everyone there knew more than they were letting on. So Rosalind volunteered to come to Chicago to try to find her sister.”
“Has she discovered anything?”
“No, though she did say that Douglass paid another maid to leave the house after he discovered she was with child.”
“He gave her money?”
“Yes.” Reid hoped she understood everything he wasn’t saying.
Eloisa stared at him in shock. “That is a very serious offense, Reid.”
“I agree. And I wouldn’t have given much credence to it, except I was with Douglass when he was with the other maid. I’ve been in the house and witnessed the way he treated Rosalind. I don’t know what happened to Rosalind’s sister, but I do think that more has been going on than anyone wants to admit.”
“I see.”
It struck him, then, that Eloisa was not shocked by the allegations against Veronica or Douglass. “Have you heard rumors?”
“I’ve heard rumors about Douglass,” she said quietly. She looked at the doorway. “I wouldn’t want this bandied about, but more than one girl has alluded that he behaved less than gentlemanly with her. They were afraid to be alone with him.”
“I’ve heard rumors as well.” He stared at her, noted the concern in her eyes. “Eloisa, I must also admit something else. Though I can imagine Douglass, uh, behaving like a cad, I can’t imagine him accosting a maid.”
“I would have to agree.” Her eyes narrowed. “So that begs the real question, Reid.”
“And that is?”
“If Douglass Sloane merely pursues women and ruins their reputations, if Rosalind’s sister was one of them, what happened to her? Did she run away in shame? Or did someone else have a hand in her disappearance?”
“Only the good Lord knows.”
“I do believe that it’s time people discovered the truth too,” she said grimly.
CHAPTER 29
After leaving Eloisa’s, Reid dismissed his driver and took the new elevated train to the entrance of the fair. He needed to get away, to think. Think about Eloisa, his duty toward his family, and his curious regard for Rosalind.
Something needed to change. He felt a new sense of urgency that he couldn’t seem to shake. He didn’t know if it was because of Rosalind, the new pressure he felt to marry well, or if it was a by-product of the disintegration of his relationship with Douglass.
After paying his entrance fee, he walked through the gates and mixed with the throng. The crowds had thinned considerably since the fair had first begun. And though there were still many fine ladies and gentlemen promenading, there seemed to be a greater number of men and women from the lower classes enjoying the sights. Their tailored suits and dresses were just a little bit shabbier, their grooming needing an extra bit of care.
As he looked at the white buildings, Reid realized the crowd had much in common with the buildings. Most of the people were looking like faint replicas of the shining statues positioned all around them.
He’d heard rumors that the buildings hadn’t been built for posterity. Instead, the architects and builders had built glorious façades, covering plain buildings encompassing priceless artifacts. To his way of thinking, it felt fitting.
That was the way of it, he decided. People were born bare and helpless, relying on others for everything from comfort and love to happiness and esteem. Little by little, each person became more independent. Relationships were formed, not on kinship, but on mutual interests.
A new, hard veneer was formed, along with the proper way of speaking and clothing appropriate to their place in society. Some of the changes happened organically, without much thinking or planning. They just happened.
Some men inherited their fathers’ businesses or adopted their trades. Some inherited the family’s land or home. They continued on, in much the same path of their forefathers.
But not for men like him. No, for the Armstrongs, and most specifically for Reid Armstrong, little in life was left to chance. Instead, each step forward was contemplated carefully. Pros and cons and alternative paths were studied with great care and then put into action with the deliberative force of a general planning his battles.
Accents and fashion were studied. Schools and governesses and tutors were paid for. Dressers and valets, diets and polish. Acquaintances nurtured, friendships fostered.
And any failure to prosper was considered a flaw. A mistake. Something that needed to be rectified as soon as possible.
But of course, all of it could be stripped away with the loss of money or the loss of stature. Making an enemy of a former friend could do that too. And then, if a man wasn’t careful, he could find the beautiful covering that he’d paid for with time and money and effort and fear slowly crumbling away. Leaving him to be the man he’d always dreaded being.
Reid sat on one of the benches, realizing that he was the White City. He had been as bright and perfect as money and careful planning had been able to buy. However, at the end of the day, his true colors were showing through the cracks in his marble façade.
Over the last few weeks, since he’d met Rosalind and had become interested in something besides his worth or acceptance in society, he’d discovered himself.
Of course, the Lord had much to do with that. He’d been the one who had encouraged Reid to continue to be involved with his church, even when it wasn’t the thing to do. The Lord had kept putting him and Rosalind in each other’s path. And the Lord had also given him the ability to see Rosalind for herself
.
He’d begun to see beyond her stunning looks and social status. He’d begun to think of her as a whole, unique person. A child of God. And during that time Reid had realized she was important to him.
He didn’t know what was going to happen next. Would he ever be able to help Rosalind enough for her to discover what had really happened to her sister? Were his puny efforts ever going to be enough?
He sincerely hoped so.
“Guvnor, you need something to eat?” A young man about twelve years of age gazed at him hopefully. Behind him was a row of thick pretzels. Suddenly nothing had ever looked so good.
Reid got to his feet. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll have one of those pretzels.”
“Salt?”
“Of course.” He got out some change from his pockets and paid generously.
The boy looked at the coins in his hand, grinned, then promptly closed his fist, just as if the metal was about to fly out of his hand. “Thanks.”
Reid nodded, then bit into the pretzel, enjoying the bite of the yeasty concoction. Then he started walking. To where, he didn’t know.
But for the first time, it didn’t really matter.
Rosalind had just finished freshening up when there was a light knock at her bedroom door.
Curious as to who it could be, she opened the door slightly and peered out. It was Mr. Watterson.
“You have a caller, Miss Rosalind.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s a Miss Carstairs, miss.”
Rosalind swallowed. “I’m afraid I have no—”
“I’ll escort her downstairs, Watterson,” Reid’s mother interrupted smoothly as she walked down the hall.
“Rosalind, Eloisa Carstairs is one of my son’s good friends. She has come to pay a call. She’s hoping that she might be able to help you in your search for your sister.”
Rosalind had no idea why a lady would make such an offer—or how she knew about her sister. But she was curious to find out. Quickly, she followed Mrs. Armstrong down the winding staircase, still feeling terribly conspicuous for going down the main stairs instead of the servants’.
When she entered the drawing room, she saw an exquisitely dressed young lady perched on the edge of a settee. She was fine-boned and elegant-looking. She looked up and smiled softly as Rosalind followed Mrs. Armstrong into the room. “Good afternoon,” she said by way of greeting.
“This is Eloisa Carstairs,” Mrs. Armstrong said with a smile. “Eloisa, may I present Rosalind Pettit, our guest.”
Rosalind felt her cheeks heat. “How do you do, ma’am. I’m only here because of the generosity of the Armstrongs.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Reid stopped by to see me this afternoon and told me about your situation.”
“He did?”
“Yes. And don’t fret. He wasn’t gossiping. Rather, he thought that I might be able to help you in some way. Like Reid, I know a great many people in our circle.” Looking beyond Rosalind, she added, “I’ve also known the Sloane family for many years. We were once friends, Veronica and I.”
Rosalind felt her eyes widen. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Luckily, Mrs. Armstrong took control of the conversation. “Tell us a bit about your sister, Rosalind.”
She racked her brain, but she couldn’t think of anything new to say about Miranda that Reid and his mother didn’t already know. “I’m sorry, I’ve told you all I know about her job and what I’ve discovered about her last days there.”
“No, dear. I don’t want to hear about your sleuthing,” Mrs. Armstrong said. “Rather, I want to hear about her. What is she like?”
Eloisa leaned forward. “Did she do her chores without complaint? What did she like? What didn’t she like? Were you close?”
“Miranda is truly beautiful. She isn’t ethereal like you, Miss Carstairs, but she is striking. In many ways I’m a poor copy of her. Her hair is brighter, her eyes bluer, her figure more filled out. And she is impetuous.” Her voice warmed as she thought about the person Miranda is . . . or was. “Miranda was always hatching a plan and was always a bit foolhardy. My mother depended on me to be her voice of reason.”
“And were you?”
“I’m ashamed to admit that I was not. Truthfully? Her ideas always sounded like a lot more fun than mine. More often than not, I was as much her devoted follower as any of my brothers.”
“So you were close?”
“We got along and were close in the way sisters always are. But in many ways we were not close. I’m a bit too much of a worrywart for her.”
Suddenly, the memories poured forth. “Once she wanted to rush through our chores so we could go to the swimming hole with the family next to ours. But I was afraid we’d get in trouble.” She shook her head in wonder, her eyes brimming with tears as the moment rushed forth, bringing with it both laughter and sadness.
She tried to stem the flow, but it was as if all the pressure from the past weeks was too much to contain. Or perhaps it was really the fact that she didn’t need to bear the weight by herself any longer.
She could afford to feel instead of plan. She could afford to remember instead of plot.
The realization only made the tears fall harder, followed by a choking sob.
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Armstrong murmured, moving to her side. From out of nowhere, she produced a handkerchief and folded it into Rosalind’s hand. And that act of kindness only made the tears fall still harder. Before she knew it, Eloisa was sitting on her other side, her slim hand gently patting Rosalind’s back.
Which, of course, only made her tears continue.
Seconds later, Reid walked in. “Mother? Eloisa? What is wrong?” he said, then added in a rush, “Rosalind? Rosalind, are you all right?”
She lifted her head just as he rushed to stand in front of her, his hands outstretched.
And she knew right then and there that if they’d been alone, he would have pulled her into his arms. And she would have gone. Gratefully.
She lifted her head and met his gaze. Forgot about his mother and Eloisa. Was only aware of Reid Armstrong. And knew that she’d fallen in love.
“Ah,” Mrs. Armstrong murmured. “Now I understand.”
Eloisa stood up and stepped toward the door. “I believe I do too.”
Reid looked confused, but Rosalind was not. For better or worse, her heart had made a decision. And even if she spent the rest of her life on a farm in Wisconsin, she knew she would only give her heart to one man.
Reid Armstrong.
CHAPTER 30
It was probably best to be philosophical about the recent developments with Reid Armstrong, Eloisa Carstairs decided the next evening as she alighted from her carriage and walked into yet another black tie event. This one was hosted by the McCormicks, and their beautiful home was glowing from the number of gaslights and crystal chandeliers. The walls were lined with paintings, each worth thousands of dollars. They were widely known to be fans of portraits. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched the event, giving one a slightly elusive feeling of constantly being under surveillance.
All two hundred of the privileged guests.
The function was a charity gala, its purpose to raise money for Salvation Army orphans. A noble cause, indeed.
But as she studied the variety of men in black tie, escorting women wearing thousand-dollar brocaded gowns and snow-white gloves up past elbows, each dripping with enough jewels to pay for food for whole blocks of unfortunates, Eloisa couldn’t help but be struck by the absurdity of it all. Surely more good would come from money donated to the cause instead of being spent to look good while supporting the less fortunate.
But perhaps that was why a man like Reid was so important to her. He was one of them, there at the gala tonight. She could see him talking intently with some friends nearby.
But he also had his toes in his parents’ former pool. He understood better than most in the room the consequences of t
he reforms and how much good even a dollar donation could do.
It was too bad that she couldn’t seem to summon more feelings for him than friendship.
After being announced, she walked down the stairs, greeted several friends, then looked up to see Douglass Sloane quietly studying her.
Douglass was everything Reid wasn’t. He was vaguely dangerous and had no more concern for penniless orphans than he did for a splinter in his thumb.
Her mother thought he was eminently suitable, and resolutely had paid no mind to any of the rumors floating about him. Eloisa, however, knew better.
But because she’d promised Reid to do what she could, she smiled in Douglass’s direction.
He approached, his handsome face as perfectly composed as always. “Eloisa, you look as stunning as ever.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sloane.”
He leaned closer. “Why will you never call me by my Christian name?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know each other well enough.” Then, remembering her mission, she smiled at him softly and added the one word that changed everything. “Yet.”
“That can be rectified. Walk with me.”
She’d arrived rather late. The ballroom was crowded. Crowded enough for her not to fear his company. In addition, she knew that she’d just been given the perfect opportunity to help Rosalind. Setting her hand in the crook of his arm, she smiled. “I would like that very much.”
Something new glittered in his eyes, and she felt a flicker of unease. With a mental shake of her head, she brushed it aside. Surely her imagination was running away with her.
Douglass’s smile broadened into a full grin when several men and women watched them. “Eloisa, who would have imagined the two of us could create such a stir?”
She played along, mentally calculating how long she should stay in his company for propriety’s sake. And how many questions she could pepper him with without giving away her true motives.
“Not I,” she replied. “Though it shouldn’t be a surprise. We are much alike.”
“Perhaps that is the reason, though I would put the blame solely on you.”
Secrets of Sloane House Page 22
