In the
COMPANY
of SECRETS
Books by Judith Miller
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
_________________________________
BELLS OF LOWELL*
Daughter of the Loom
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL*
A Tapestry of Hope
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
FREEDOM’S PATH
First Dawn
Morning Sky
Daylight Comes
POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails
*with Tracie Peterson
POSTCARDS from PULLMAN * 1
In the
COMPANY
of SECRETS
JUDITH MILLER
In the Company of Secrets
Copyright © 2007
Judith Miller
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Paperback: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0276-6 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0276-6
Hardcover: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0352-7 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0352-5
Large Print: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0353-4 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0353-3
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
McCoy-Miller, Judith.
In the company of secrets / Judith Miller.
p. cm. — (Postcards from Pullman)
ISBN 978-0-7642-0352-7 (alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0276-6 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0353-4 (lg. print : pbk.)
1. Cooks—Fiction. 2. British—United States—Fiction. 3. Illinois—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3613.C3858I5 2007
813'.54—dc22 2006038412
* * *
To
Roberta Stuke
With a thankful heart for your friendship!
JUDITH MILLER is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, many of which have appeared on the CBA bestseller lists. Judy and her husband make their home in Topeka, Kansas.
Visit Judy’s Web site at: www.judithmccoymiller.com.
Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his
neighbour: for we are members one of another.
—Ephesians 4:25
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Recipes
Acknowledgments
A Message to My Readers
CHAPTER ONE
London, England
April 1892
Run! Faster! Hurry! The warnings tolled in Olivia’s mind like a death knell. She raced toward the kitchen door, the rear stairway now in sight. Approaching the final obstacle, she rounded the kitchen worktable at breakneck speed. Her momentum abruptly slowed as the pocket of her starched white apron caught on the table’s corner. The rasping tear of the cotton cloth echoed in her ears, and she quickly cast a downward glance at the frayed pocket. Still hoping for time enough to flee, she urgently yanked at the apron. She’d not been fast enough.
Chef Mallard’s long fingers surrounded her forearm in an iron grip. She winced as he tightened his hold, certain she’d be bruised by the morrow. Shoving her against the table, he eased his grip only slightly and leaned his full weight against her. The edge of the heavy worktable cut into the small of her back, and she groaned.
A look of triumph shone in his small dark eyes. ‘‘Do not toy with me, Miss Mott. I know you desire my affections.’’
‘‘Desire? You disgust me! Turn me loose or I shall report you to the countess.’’
Her angry rebuff served only to incense him further. Instead of releasing her, he pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger and pressed his thin, hard lips against her mouth in a bruising kiss. The legs of the massive worktable scraped across the stone floor as she struggled backward, trying to gain her freedom. He captured her waist with his arm and pulled her into a fearsome embrace. A lustful gleam lurked in his watery eyes and penetrated her very soul. He traced his tongue across the vindictive smile curving his lips. She shuddered.
Beneath the collar of the chef ’s white tunic, his Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. ‘‘Quit fighting me!’’
‘‘Never! I’ll not yield to you.’’ She spat the words into his face.
With a wicked laugh, he grabbed at the hem of her skirt. How dare he! Without hesitation, Olivia stomped the heel of her shoe atop his foot. The despicable chef yelped and his grip loosened. Wresting free of him, she hastened to the opposite side of the table while straining to remain calm. Across the expanse of the wooden table, she stared at him. The man was a lecherous fiend.
He bent forward and rested his palms against the table. ‘‘You’ll find speaking to the countess will do you no good.’’ He wagged his index finger at her. ‘‘The Countess of Lanshire needs an excellent chef on her staff. Scullery maids can be found on any street corner. Be advised that others have tried that tack and none have succeeded.’’ His stale breath wafted across the table and assaulted her. ‘‘You will permit me the pleasure of your body whenever I so desire, or you will find yourself among the unemployed, Miss Mott. You have but two days to give me your decision.’’
Outwitted! Olivia should have known the calculating chef would have a trump card at the ready, and that he would use it whenever and wherever he saw fit. Each of his words hit like a blow to the midsection. Swallowing hard, Olivia forced down the lump in her throat. If she disgorged herself of the morning meal, the chef would offer yet another serving of his brutal humiliation.
He moved away from the table and gestured toward the stairway. ‘‘I’ll not detain you further. Consider your options carefully, Miss Mott. Either you’ll be my mistress or you’ll be unemployed.’’
Careful to maintain her distance, Olivia sidestepped toward the stairs on wobbly legs. She hoped to maintain some sense of decorum until she finally escaped the kitchen. He was watching her every m
ove. Only when she reached the stairs did she turn her back toward him and race up the flight as though the devil himself were on her heels. She didn’t stop running until she reached the third floor.
Leaning against the far wall, she gasped for air, her chest heaving. As her breathing slowed, she realized those few minutes in the kitchen had changed the course of her life. She’d seen her dream evaporate as quickly as ice melting on a summer day.
When she’d arrived at Lanshire Hall fourteen months ago, she had hoped Chef Mallard would lead her on the path to a successful career. Like everyone else who had eaten his expertly prepared delicacies, Olivia had been in awe of his culinary abilities. Until today the desire to become a renowned chef had outweighed all other dreams. Unfortunately, the Mallard, as she privately referred to him, had drawn a line in the sand—a line she would never cross, no matter how deep the desire to achieve her goal. Today he had proved himself to be the odious man about whom she had been forewarned.
With a quick swipe she brushed away the tears that stained her cheeks and dejectedly walked to the end of the hall. She sniffed loudly and pushed open the door to the room she shared with Ludenia, Lady Charlotte Spencer’s personal maid.
At the sound of the latch, Ludie glanced up from her stitching. Her eyes opened wide, and she dropped the embroidery on the side table as she rushed forward to enfold Olivia in a gentle embrace. ‘‘Now what’s this all about, dearie? Tell Ludie what’s troubling you.’’
Olivia fell into the warmth of the woman’s fleshy arms and wept, her body heaving up and down with each giant sob. When her wrenching wails subsided, Ludie loosened her hold and handed Olivia her handkerchief. The woman’s eyes shone with sympathy as she lovingly patted her shoulder.
‘‘Now, then, sit down and tell me what has happened.’’
They settled themselves on the only two chairs in the small room. In between hiccoughs and sniffles, Olivia explained Chef Mallard’s sordid ultimatum.
‘‘If I don’t give in to him, he says he’ll make certain I never work in another reputable kitchen in England.’’ She wiped her tears on the linen hankie. ‘‘Oh, Ludie, what am I going to do?’’
‘‘Oh, my dear! Surely there’s an answer. We merely must find it.’’ She jiggled her knee up and down, a sure sign she was deep in thought.
Olivia remained silent, waiting for words of wisdom to pour from the older woman’s lips.
‘‘What about your aunt Eleanor Mott? Could you go and stay with her? You’d be safe from Chef Mallard.’’
Olivia slumped in her chair. She didn’t want to go live with Cousin Albert’s mother. She’d be required to work in one of the local shops or, worse yet, take a dreary job in a factory to support herself. Not that she didn’t love Aunt Eleanor, but Olivia had expected a more resourceful solution from Ludie. Though Olivia’s dream seemed outlandish to most, Ludie had encouraged her to pursue training as a chef from the first day she’d arrived at Lanshire Hall.
Suddenly Ludie’s shoulders squared. ‘‘Didn’t your cousin Albert move to America? Perhaps you could follow him there. Chef Mallard’s malevolent threats to ruin your future can’t follow you all the way to another country.’’ She beamed at Olivia. ‘‘What do you think, luv?’’
Olivia’s heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement. Could she possibly do such a thing? She’d never even seen all of her native England, or even London for that matter. How could she consider such a journey on her own? Her heartbeat slowed as she remembered how many months Albert had saved for his voyage to America. Even if she could garner the courage, she didn’t have money to purchase her passage.
Ludie jumped up and adjusted her bodice. ‘‘I’m late. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be the object of Lady Charlotte’s wrath. I know her sharp tongue all too well.’’ She stopped when she reached the door. ‘‘We’ll keep thinking. There is a solution; we’ve just got to find it.’’ After one final embrace and a warning to remain upstairs, where she would be safe from Chef Mallard, Ludie disappeared down the hallway.
Olivia slouched in her chair, settling her gaze on the scuffed toes of her black work shoes. One thing was certain: she would be a resident of Lanshire Hall for only two more days. Instead of staring at her shoes, she must pack her belongings. With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the chair and pulled open the wardrobe. She would be greatly relieved to never again see Chef Mallard, but she would surely miss living and working at Lanshire Hall. Even more, she would miss the woman whom she’d grown to love like the mother she’d never known. Tears threatened at the thought of leaving Ludie. Saying good-bye would be difficult.
Olivia’s starched white cap wobbled precariously above her left eyebrow. She gaped at the formidable Lady Charlotte Spencer. Perhaps Olivia wasn’t quite awake yet and hadn’t heard correctly. ‘‘You want me to what?’’ Olivia blurted the words without so much as adding a polite ‘‘your ladyship’’ to the question.
The only daughter of the Earl and Countess of Lanshire Hall, Lady Charlotte was twenty-three, older than Olivia by two years. More often than not, however, she acted like a spoiled ten-year-old. Shoving her hat back toward the center of her head, Olivia prayed she’d misunderstood the young mistress.
With a hefty yank, Lady Charlotte pulled Olivia into the darkness of the linen closet and bid her remain quiet. She squeezed Olivia’s arm in a viselike grip while she whispered a detailed and upsetting plan. When she’d hissed the final words, Lady Charlotte nudged Olivia toward the door and back into the hallway. Trembling, Olivia hurried off to the kitchen. She pinched herself as she descended the steps. Perhaps this was merely a dream. Unfortunately, the painful pinch revealed she was wide-awake.
She should never have confided in Ludie! The older woman meant well, but she chattered constantly. Even now, Olivia could picture the scene: Ludie serenely brushing Lady Charlotte’s hair in long flowing strokes while regaling her ladyship with the daily gossip that circulated throughout Lanshire Hall. Unfortunately, this day’s tittle-tattle had included the possibility of Olivia sailing for America once she accumulated funds enough to pay her passage.
Instead of dealing with Chef Mallard, she must now submit to Lady Charlotte’s threats and demands. And this time, she couldn’t ask for Ludie’s help.
CHAPTER TWO
From the time she was a little girl, Olivia had hearkened to her aunt Eleanor’s admonitions against lying. Now she found herself trapped in the mire she’d been warned against during those formative years. Thus far, her journey with Lady Charlotte had been filled with deceit and a host of lies. So many that she remained uncertain whether she could remember all of them. What had her aunt called lies? The scourge of mankind! Yes, that was it—a scourge that entangles man like a sticky spider’s web.
‘‘Tell one lie, and you’ll need two or more to cover the last.’’ She couldn’t count the number of times Aunt Eleanor had repeated those words to Olivia and her cousin Albert. Olivia had never quite understood the saying. Until now. To this point, she’d followed along in her usual submissive manner, doing Lady Charlotte’s bidding without question. However, once they reached Pullman, Illinois, Olivia intended to free herself from the clutches of the young mistress.
Not that Lady Charlotte technically remained her mistress any longer. Nevertheless, she did maintain a hold on Olivia. A very strong hold. After all, she had paid for her passage from London to New York and then to Chicago, and she had offered to force the Mallard to write a letter praising her abilities and culinary expertise. Knowing that such a letter would open doors for her, Olivia had accepted the offer, an act she took no pride in admitting. But she did intend to use the letter once they arrived in Pullman. If all went according to plan, Olivia’s future would be secured in the celebrated community that George Pullman had built for his employees. And so far as she was concerned, she couldn’t reach her destination quickly enough.
As with everything since their departure, all things would happen according to Lady Charlotte’s sche
dule. They would spend one night at the Grand Pacific Hotel on LaSalle Street before departing the next morning. Olivia’s attempts to hold sway over Lady Charlotte’s decision to remain in Chicago overnight had, as with all of her other suggestions, gone unheeded. Lady Charlotte declared they must be refreshed and rested before their departure for Pullman.
Exiting the glass-domed carriage rotunda at the Van Buren Street Station, Olivia gasped at the surrounding sights and immediately gave thanks for the safety the carriage provided. Monstrous buildings towered heavenward as a mere sliver of sunlight fought its way through to the ground below. Inside the carriage, they were assaulted by the noise of pounding steam hammers, clanging gongs, and teams of screaming horses frightened by the cable cars that nosed through the streets at breakneck speed. A cacophony bombarded them on every side. Olivia had never been in such a place as this. And she wasn’t at all sure she ever wished to return.
She sighed with relief when the coachman reined the horses to a stop in front of the hotel. A uniformed young man hastened to assist them inside, and soon they were escorted to rooms that rivaled the opulence of Lanshire Hall. Once settled amidst the elegance, Olivia quickly pushed aside all thoughts of the treacherous carriage ride. Before embarking on this journey, never before had she been privy to such luxury and elegance. For throughout their trip, she had traveled as Lady Charlotte’s equal, enjoying the same privilege and luxury as that afforded her companion. But tomorrow all of that would change. And tomorrow she must remember all of the lies.
Though she would never broach the topic, Olivia secretly wondered what Lady Charlotte planned to do if Randolph Morgan refused to marry her. Would she return to Lanshire Hall in her condition? This had been yet another of Lady Charlotte’s lies. She had never planned to visit for only a few weeks and then return to England. Once they were well at sea, the mistress had confided she was going to have a child—Randolph Morgan’s child. The news had been unnerving. It still was. Lady Charlotte didn’t even know the man’s address, though searching for him in the town of Pullman shouldn’t prove overly difficult. Mr. Morgan was, after all, one of Mr. Pullman’s most valued employees, if she could believe what Lady Charlotte had told her during their voyage.
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