To Honor and Trust

by Tracie Peterson

  Wide-eyed, Maude turned toward Callie. “You speak French, do ya? That’s mighty impressive. Maybe I could learn a few words if ya have time to teach me.” She tipped her head to the side and looked at Mrs. Bridgeport. “To see someone old as me learning to speak French might set a good example for the children, don’t ya think?”

  Mrs. Bridgeport withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her forehead. “Let’s not worry about French lessons at the moment, Maude. As the children’s nanny, you are the one charged with making certain they are cared for and properly groomed. Unless they are in classes with Callie, the children are under your supervision. To that end, your appearance is very important.” She inhaled a deep breath. “You will provide a much better example for the children if your hair is properly arranged and your clothing is clean and pressed.”

  Maude traced her hand down the wrinkled skirt. “My things have been packed, and I’ll see to pressing them first thing, Missus. I doubt I have dresses that will meet the standards you might be expectin’. I hit a spot of hard times and didn’t have money for new dresses and such.”

  “Dear me, I am sorry to hear you’ve been through difficult circumstances, Maude.” Mrs. Bridgeport’s face turned as pink as the roses that bloomed in her garden each summer. “I want you to come with me to Biscayne at the end of the week, and we’ll find some suitable clothing for you. Had I known of your situation, I would have sent money in advance for you to purchase whatever you needed.”

  Maude’s face lit up like candles on a Christmas tree. She touched a hand to her unkempt hair and leaned a little closer to Callie. “Maybe you can show me how to fix my hair a little more proper. Since it turned gray a few years ago, it’s become wiry and hard to manage. I pin it down, but in no time it pops from beneath the pins like corn exploding over a hot fire.”

  Callie smiled. “I’ll see if there’s a style we can develop that might be easier for you to manage.”

  Mrs. Murphy scooted back on the cushioned chair and rested her arms across her waist. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you.”

  Mrs. Bridgeport’s features tightened. “Surely you know how to fashion hair, Mrs. Murphy. Our nannies have always styled our daughters’ hair, and I assumed that since you had worked as a nanny for Mrs. Winslow, you would know how to fashion and care for the children’s hair and clothing.”

  “Oh, I can take care of the children just fine—unless they have some of this wiry gray hair like my own.” She cackled and slapped her leg as though she’d found great humor in her own comment.

  Clearly this was not the nanny Mrs. Bridgeport had expected, yet Callie remained certain the woman possessed fine attributes. Why else would she have come so highly recommended? Still, Maude’s behavior was a far cry from the refined and proper behavior of their former nanny, Miss Sophie, and Mrs. Bridgeport’s frustration appeared to be increasing by the minute.

  Hoping to ease her employer’s concern, Callie scooted forward on the chair. “Since you have a meeting to attend this morning, Mrs. Bridgeport, I would be happy to show Maude a bit of how we do things here at Fair Haven.”

  The strained look on Mrs. Bridgeport’s face vanished. “I had completely forgotten I was to meet with the ladies to go over plans for some of our personal entertaining this season. Thank you for reminding me, Callie.” She flashed a smile at the younger woman. “I’m sure you can more easily explain the children’s schedule and show Maude where things are and how I expect items cared for in the children’s rooms.”

  Mrs. Bridgeport strode toward the sunroom doorway, but then stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “And Callie, don’t forget that I’m planning on your attendance at the masquerade ball later in the week.”

  Callie inwardly cringed at the reminder. Even though they weren’t related, more often than not, the Bridgeports treated her as a member of the family. “Perhaps it would be better if I refrain from attending any evening events until Maude is more accustomed to caring for the children.”

  “Nonsense. Maude will be just fine with the children.” Mrs. Bridgeport turned her attention to the new employee. “Won’t you, Maude?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe we’re going to get along just dandy.”

  Mrs. Bridgeport smiled. “There, you see?” She snapped her fan together. “I plan to join Luther at the club for lunch once my meeting ends, so please go ahead with the children’s lunch.”

  Once she’d departed the room, Maude turned her full attention upon Callie. “Appears that you have the job of teachin’ me as well as the children. I’m guessin’ the girls are upstairs?”

  “Yes. They are delightful children, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy them very much. When their schedule is interrupted, they go to the spare room upstairs that we use as a schoolroom and playroom. Weather permitting, I try to take them outdoors for some of their lessons each day. And, of course, Thomas enjoys sports, and since he is older than the girls, I do my best to take care of his educational needs while incorporating outdoor sports whenever possible.”

  Mrs. Murphy eyed a rifle hanging over the mantel. “And I suppose his father takes care of the hunting portion of his education.”

  Callie nodded. “That’s true. However, Thomas occasionally accompanies us when I take the girls to play croquet or shuffleboard. All three of them enjoy outdoor games. However, because of the outdoor sporting activities for Thomas, there are times when I’ll need to leave the girls in your charge. You won’t have any problems with them. They’re happy playing with their dollhouse or having a little tea party with their dolls out in the gazebo.” Callie pointed toward the large gazebo not far from the house. “How many children did you care for when you worked for Mrs. Winslow?”

  Mrs. Murphy’s eyebrows pinched together. “Depended on the time of year. Some of them went off to boarding school, and sometimes they’d all be home for the holidays and so forth.”

  “Did they have daughters, or only sons?”

  “Some of both.” Mrs. Murphy jumped up from her chair as if she’d been hit by a load of buckshot and touched a finger to her eye. “Time’s a wasting. Why don’t you show me around the house, and then I’d like a look at the children’s rooms. Best to know where I’ll be spending most of my time, don’t you think?”

  Perhaps thoughts of her previous charges had stirred poignant memories for Mrs. Murphy. Employment as a nanny or tutor to young children created a bond that was not easily broken. Callie knew all too well, for she dreaded the day when the remaining Bridgeport children would be sent to boarding school and her services would no longer be needed.

  She grasped Mrs. Murphy’s arm. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I ask too many questions.”

  The older woman’s lips curved in a wavering smile. “No need for apologies. There are times when I’ve been accused of the same thing. Sometimes I become a bit overwrought when I think of the Winslow children being all grown up. Would be nice to hear from one or two of them, but I’m sure they forgot me the minute they went off to boarding school.” Her pale gray eyes clouded when she looked at Callie. “You know how it is—once they get away from home, things are never the same, even when they come back for a visit.”

  Callie did know. Even though she hadn’t been tutor to the three older Bridgeport sons, she’d heard their mother lament the fact that they’d all changed far too much to suit her once they’d gone off to school. Hoping to keep Thomas at home, Mrs. Bridgeport had used that argument with her husband, but to no avail. Besides, if Thomas wasn’t permitted to join his brothers at boarding school next year, Callie was certain there would be mayhem in the Bridgeport household. If he’d been given his way, Thomas would have gone off to school even before he turned thirteen, but much to his annoyance, he’d been unable to convince his mother.

  Mrs. Murphy glanced about as they entered the small kitchen. “The time passes quicker than ya think—you’ll see. In seven or eight years, that youngest girl will be packing her trunk and heading off to boarding school, and then where will ya
be?” She turned in a circle. “This is a mighty small kitchen for such a big house. How do the cooks prepare meals without bumping into each other?”

  “Most meals are eaten at the clubhouse. In fact, it’s very much expected. The kitchen was installed in the house for occasional family meals and for the children when they don’t join their parents at the clubhouse for dinner or during the more formal events conducted in the evenings. The children eat breakfast here in the kitchen each morning, as well.”

  She nodded her head. “From what the missus said, it sounds like you sometimes join them at those fancy doings over at the clubhouse.”

  “My grandmother and Mrs. Bridgeport’s mother were dear friends for many years. I moved to Indianapolis to live with my grandmother when I was fifteen years old, and it was due to Grandmother’s friendship with Mrs. Bridgeport’s mother that I secured this position after my grandmother’s death. In some circumstances, Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport insist I attend formal events with them.”

  “Oh, so yar rich, too.” Mrs. Murphy put her hand over her mouth, realizing she’d overstepped. “Sorry, of course ya ain’t rich . . . not if ya have to work for a livin’.”

  Callie wasn’t at all sure what to say. Her family’s financial status wasn’t any of the woman’s business.

  Mrs. Murphy recovered her boldness as they walked down the hall. “You should take advantage of going to parties with those wealthy folks so you can find you a man and make a life of your own. Like I said before, these children will all go off to boarding school, and you’ll be left looking for work.” She tsked and patted Callie’s shoulder. “Take it from me, finding work when you’re old isn’t so easy. Folks know it’s hard for us old folk to chase after their little ones. They’d rather hire someone young instead of someone ready for a rocking chair.”

  Mrs. Murphy wasn’t old enough to consider a rocking chair, but the woman was correct: Callie did need to make plans about her future—about whether she would heed her parents’ wish for her to join them in Africa. The thought caused her to shiver. Unlike her parents and their overwhelming desire to serve in the mission field in Africa, Callie preferred to serve God in the United States.

  Callie led Mrs. Murphy to the back staircase, but her thoughts remained on Africa. To travel so far and leave familiar surroundings held little appeal, yet she wanted to help her parents. She wanted to please them, too. For more than a year, she had prayed for God’s leading in her life, but her prayers had been shallow. She didn’t truly want God to answer her prayers unless He directed her to remain with the Bridgeports. “I’ve been giving the matter of my future great thought—and a good deal of prayer. Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport suggested I open a school of my own in the future. However, my decision doesn’t need to be made this winter.”

  “You’re right. And you’re probably going to keep saying that same thing to yourself every winter for the next eight years.” Mrs. Murphy paused on the steep stairway and panted. “So I’m to use these back stairs all the time?”

  “No, of course not. The servants in this household use both the front and back stairs—whichever is more convenient.”

  After inhaling a deep breath, Mrs. Murphy continued climbing. “Well, you know how it is. Some of these rich folks want their servants to be invisible. Never could understand how a person could serve you and remain invisible. Maybe that’s why a few of the families I worked for didn’t get on with me very well.”

  The remark caused Callie to glance over her shoulder at the older woman. She hoped Mrs. Murphy would do her best to get along with all members of the family. The Bridgeports weren’t difficult employers, but they did expect the servants to meet their expectations. “Was there some sort of problem at your last employment?”

  “No. I wanted to get to a warmer climate for the winter, and no matter how cold the weather, the family stayed in Pittsburgh.”

  “Has it been some time since you worked for the Winslows?”

  “A number of years. I’d been in Pittsburgh quite a while, but I knew a reference from Mrs. Winslow would be more important than from the family in Pittsburgh. They didn’t know Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport.” She nudged Callie’s arm. “Truth is, they weren’t what you would call wealthy. They hired me because the missus was a bit feeble in the head and needed someone to stay with her while the mister was at work. Poor woman needed all the help she could get—couldn’t remember her name half the time.”

  “Well, I’m sure she appreciated your kindness.” They walked the hallway of the second floor, and Callie gestured toward the doorways as they passed, advising which bedroom belonged to which family member.

  “Sure is a lot of empty bedrooms,” Mrs. Murphy commented.

  “Mrs. Bridgeport usually keeps these bedrooms available for visiting guests. She prefers the children’s nanny be close to their rooms, although I know your room is somewhat small. Would you like me to inquire about having you moved?”

  Mrs. Murphy gasped. “When I went in there earlier, I noticed it’s kind of warm. A bigger room would be nice.”

  Callie wasn’t sure how to answer the woman. During her first winter at Bridal Veil, Mrs. Bridgeport had insisted Callie have a double room on the second floor. She wouldn’t hear of Lydia Deboyer’s granddaughter being thought of as less than family. “It’s unseemly and I will not hear another word about it,” Mrs. Bridgeport had insisted. That statement had ended all further discussion of a small servant’s room for Callie.

  “I can speak to Mrs. Bridgeport on your behalf.”

  “No need—I’ll ask the missus. I don’t have a problem speaking up for myself.” When the two of them had stopped outside the door to Callie’s bedroom, Maude peered inside. A cream satin and chiffon gown embroidered with coral beads and spangles lay draped across Callie’s bed. Mrs. Murphy’s mouth gaped open. “That the dress the missus was talking about? The one you’ll be wearing to that ball?”

  Callie nodded.

  Mrs. Murphy pursed her lips and arched her brows. “That looks like something the missus should be wearing instead of a tutor. How’d you manage to buy something like that on your wages?”

  “Mrs. Bridgeport purchased the gown.”

  Maude rested a hand on her hip. “I wouldn’t mind having the missus buy me a dress like that. I’m thinking I better keep my eye on you, Miss Callie. Looks like you’ve learned how to make things work to your advantage.”

  The comment troubled Callie. She’d never attempted to take advantage of the Bridgeports. Instead, she’d done her best to discourage their gifts, but she’d met with little success. Did Maude consider her some sort of scheming employee? “Mrs. Bridgeport is quite generous with her employees. You’ll recall she has already offered to purchase you some new clothing, Maude.”

  “Well, I’m sure anything she buys for me won’t compare to that gown on your bed.”

  Callie cocked her head toward the bewildering woman. One minute Mrs. Murphy seemed confused about her role as a nanny and about suitable etiquette within a proper household, but the next minute she clearly understood the cost of beautiful gowns and the finer things of life. One thing was certain: If she couldn’t help Mrs. Murphy fit into the household, Callie’s season on the island would be filled with caring for children both day and night. And as much as she loved all three of them, she couldn’t see to all of their needs and still act as Mrs. Bridgeport’s companion.

  Not to mention the fact that Callie’s conversation with the peculiar nanny had been a strong reminder that she had a lot of thinking—and praying—to do about her future.

  Chapter 4

  That evening Callie remained alongside Mrs. Murphy while she helped the children through their bedtime rituals. Thomas, of course, insisted he needed no help from anyone and bid them good-night when he strode down the hall to his bedroom.

  “Thomas is quite the grown-up young man, isn’t he?” Mrs. Murphy glanced toward Callie as she helped Lottie slide her nightgown over her head.

  “He feels he’s wel
l beyond the need of a nanny, and I suppose that’s true enough, though he is still in need of his school lessons. He doesn’t take education as seriously as his parents would hope.”

  Mrs. Murphy picked up Lottie’s hairbrush and set to work on the girl’s hair. “You said you lived with your grandmother in Indianapolis, so how’d you learn to speak French?”

  “I attended a finishing school in Indianapolis and then attended college in Chicago. Grandmother insisted I take French lessons—as well as singing lessons. And I’m glad she did.” She nodded toward Lottie and Daisy. “I’ve begun teaching both of the girls French, along with their other lessons.”

  “So did your grandmother pass on when you were away at your schooling?”

  “No, I had completed my education and begun teaching at a small private school in Chicago. However, I returned to Indianapolis to be at her side. I was gone long enough that the school had to fill my position, so when my grandmother died, the Bridgeports offered me a position as tutor to their children. I’ve been with them ever since.”

  “And ya got no regrets?”

  “None at all. As I said earlier, they have been extremely good to me. They treat me more like a relative than an employee.”

  “That’s what Lula said while you were gone to dinner at the clubhouse with the family earlier tonight.”

  Mrs. Murphy smiled, but Callie thought she’d detected a hint of resentment in the older woman’s tone. “Dinner is easier for the adults when I’m along. I can easily see to the children’s needs while the adults visit.”

  Daisy leaned her head on Callie’s shoulder. “Miss Callie takes me to the bafroom when I need to go. Mama doesn’t like to take me.”

  “It’s not that she doesn’t like to,” Callie corrected. “When your mother is in the middle of a conversation, it isn’t always convenient for her to break away.”

  Daisy lifted her head from Callie’s shoulder and pinned her with a wide-eyed stared. “Oh. I thought she didn’t like the bafroom at the clubhouse.”