by Owen, K.
But she could trust Ruby and Eli.
“Feel free to say ‘no’,” Concordia began, “because it could get you in trouble.”
Eli’s eyes opened wide. Concordia knew he’d spent his young life avoiding trouble, and she hoped she wasn’t making more for him.
“You know that Miss Grant has confined me to campus for an indefinite period. The problem is my best friend Sophia desperately needs my help. She’s in prison. I know she’s innocent. But the only way to find the truth is to go back to the Adams’ home. I need a way to slip out of the grounds, without the lady principal finding out. I was hoping you two could help me.” She expelled a breath, and waited.
Eli’s lip trembled. “It’s ‘cause of me, in’t it? But I’m not stayin’ here anymore. Ma’dm Doo-rand’s lettin’ me stay with them, in exchange fer work. Won’t Miss Grant change her mind, and let you go now?”
Concordia patted his arm. “It’s…complicated. Maybe she will, in time. But I can’t wait for that.” She looked at Ruby. “Do you have any ideas?”
Ruby sniffed. “Ooh, I could just throttle that ‘un! Not that you heard it from me,” she added with a wink.
She grew quiet for a moment. “I think that bicycle machine of yours might help,” she said finally.
Concordia listened as Ruby explained her idea.
It was a sparkling clear autumn day when Concordia set out for the far sheep tracks on her bicycle. She felt the eyes upon her again, as she cleared the quadrangle and made her way up the hill. It was a bit more cumbersome pedaling than usual, as she wasn’t wearing her bicycle outfit of knickers and leggings. But she would soon be leaving the bicycle behind and slipping through a gap in the far gate, with Eli’s help. She couldn’t possibly visit the Adams household in her bicycle attire. It showed a shocking amount of leg.
Eli was waiting for her on the other side of the gate, and helped her slip through. He handed her a large basket. “Ruby says these scones, with her special honey butter, would unlock some tongues in the kitchen.”
“That woman is a treasure.” Concordia took a quick look under the gaily-checkered napkin. The house matron had also tucked in some of her rhubarb jelly and a flask of dandelion wine, for good measure. Leave it to Ruby to come up with a little gastronomic bribery.
“Can you manage the bicycle?” Concordia asked, watching Eli step through the bars and awkwardly straddle a machine too large for him.
“Yes’m. I’ll tuck it behind the gatekeeper’s house, and you can fetch it tonight when yer back, jus’ like we planned.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, as he was a key conspirator in a grand strategy to outwit the enemy.
“Make sure to keep to the wooded trail, so no one sees you,” Concordia said.
Eli gave her a scornful look that only a boy his age, whose powers of guile were just called into question, could muster. “Of course.” And off he went.
Concordia spent the trolley ride to the Adams’ house planning out what she would ask – and, most importantly, how she would ask her questions. She didn’t want to appear to be a scandal-monger, nor did she want the household in a panic that they were murder suspects. She was so lost in thought as she clutched the hand strap and unconsciously swayed with the lurch of the streetcar, that she almost missed her Asylum Avenue transfer point. She needed to keep her wits about her.
As Concordia got off the trolley and walked the rest of the way, she tried to push to the back of her mind the worry that even if she were successful in clearing Sophia, it might be at the expense of a little girl’s future. What if Amelia really had killed her father – as improbable as that seemed – and Concordia’s actions brought that to light? Sophia would never speak to her again.
She went around to the back door staff entrance, where the real business of the household took place. She wasn’t prepared to deal with Mrs. Adams. Yet. Better to see first what she could learn from the staff.
The cook’s assistant opened the door. “Miss Wells! Why, this is a surprise, miss. Come on in.” She opened the door wider, and Concordia stepped into the Adams’ kitchen, fragrant with the smells of roasting chicken, onions, carrots, and rosemary.
“I came to bring you this, with Ruby’s love,” Concordia said, pulling back the napkin to reveal Ruby’s melt-in-your-mouth scones, a generous pot of butter, and the bright glass jar of rhubarb jelly, twinkling in the light. What really produced the most exclamations, though, was the bottle of wine.
“That woman is a gem, she is,” Mrs. Lewis, the cook, said, stepping around a gawking kitchen maid to relieve Concordia of the heavy basket. “And thank you, kindly, miss, for bringin’ it to us. Why don’t you stay a while? I was jus’ about to put on the kettle. You must be perishin’ thirsty after that long trolley ride – them cars get so hot and crowded, even this time o’ year, don’t they?”
Concordia was familiar enough with Mrs. Lewis’ style of hospitality to hope for that very invitation. “I’d love to, Mrs. Lewis. A cup of tea would be just the thing.”
“An’ we can have a few of them scones, I’d expect,” Mrs. Lewis answered, eyeing them. “There look to be plenty.”
While Mrs. Lewis made the tea and Concordia settled herself comfortably, word of the treat basket must have spread, for the butler, parlor maid, and even the butcher’s boy on a delivery appeared in the kitchen just as everything was ready. Stools and tables were pulled ‘round, and there was comfortable silence for a little while.
Now was the time.
“It must be difficult, a house in mourning, especially with Miss Sophia…gone,” Concordia said tentatively.
Everyone turned and looked at Mrs. Lewis, expecting her to take the lead. Her kitchen, her rules.
The cook nodded vigorously, scattering crumbs across her ample bosom in the process. “Aye, it is. I dunna believe it of Miss Sophia. No’un here does, actually, but what possessed her to own up to such a thing, I have no idea.”
“Mebbe she’s gotten a little barmy, what with all that settlement work o’ hers,” the boy chimed in.
He got a quick cuff on the ear from Mrs. Lewis. “Yer nowt to talk like that about Miss Sophia. Yer know better’n that.” The boy flushed and looked at the floor.
“What has Mrs. Adams decided to do about the staff? Will you all get to stay?” Concordia asked.
“I’m not staying,” the parlor maid said. “You couldn’t pay me to sleep in this house another night more than I have to.”
“The police are requiring those who want to seek other employment to stay until the investigation is finished,” the butler clarified.
“So, Mrs. Adams inherited everything from the colonel?” Concordia asked.
“Aye. An’ she has grand plans fer when her mournin’s up, you can be sure o’ that,” the cook said. “She’s gonna hire more staff, I hear.”
Perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise, Concordia thought. After all, the colonel and Mrs. Adams had been married little more than a year. Mrs. Adams moved in the very heart of blueblood society, and wouldn’t want to be away from it long.
“How is Amelia?” Concordia asked.
The cook clucked her tongue in sympathy. “The poor little ‘un. She’s still a’feared, and won’t talk. The missus sent her off to her great uncle’s house in the country.”
Drat. Concordia had been hoping to talk to her. Even if the girl couldn’t speak, perhaps she could have communicated in some other way. Now that part of the plan would have to wait.
“I assume that Mr. Bradley has also left town?” she asked. She had to admit to dressing a bit more carefully than usual, in case he was still at the house. But now with Amelia gone, why would he stay?
The maid sighed, and the cook gave her a sharp look before answering.
“Aye, he did. Mr. Bradley is a favorite around here – with some in particular,” she added with a wink at the maid. “But he had to go back to his coll’idge. He was right sorry to go, with all that’s happ’ning here.”
Concordia was
experiencing a mixed reaction to David’s departure herself. While she was spared the distraction of tumultuous feelings, she was hoping to talk with him about what was troubling her. He was of particular help last year, when the problems on campus reached their height.
“What was the colonel’s funeral like?” she asked, in a change of subject. “Did any of you go?”
The butler suppressed a snort while the parlor maid giggled into her apron.
Mrs. Lewis looked as if she would have cuffed them both, if she could. But the parlor maid was too far away for her to reach, and one doesn’t box a butler’s ears, not even if you’re the cook.
“We senior staff went – Mr. Chester an’ me,” Mrs. Lewis said, glaring at the butler instead of whacking him. “An’ Mrs. Adams, o’ course. Miss Sophia and Miss Amelia were feelin’ too poorly to go.”
“It was a grand spectacle, though,” the butler added, reaching to spoon some jelly onto his scone. “Military pomp and circumstance and all that. The police chief and the mayor were both there.”
“Was the colonel well-liked, then?” Concordia asked. “I didn’t know him all that well, although he had been a friend of my father’s a long time ago.”
“Aye, that’s right, miss, I forgot about that,” Mrs. Lewis said. “I’d just started workin’ fer the household back then. Your father – such a nice man, I remember – and Colonel Adams were in business together. Even went to fair-rren lands, and such-like.”
Foreign lands. Concordia’s heart beat a little faster. Quite casually, she asked, “Do you mean Egypt, Mrs. Lewis?”
The cook dabbed at a little butter dribbling down her chin before answering. “Aye. The colonel liked to collect dusty old bits of things from heathen places. I was a maid back then, and I sure was relieved when the colonel shut up his study and would’na let us dust in there.”
“How long did my father and the colonel work together, do you know?”
Mrs. Lewis thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, lamb, but I don’t remember much about the colonel’s visitors after he got back fro’ that trip. By then, I went to work in the kitchen an’ didn’t hear much after that.” She looked around her kitchen with the pride of a queen in her domain. “This place is its own li’l world, it is.”
Concordia had gotten side-tracked long enough. Time to get back to the issue at hand, before everyone returned to their work. “What was the colonel like? Had he made any enemies?”
The butler rocked back so hard in his chair that he nearly fell to the floor. Mrs. Lewis gave him a disdainful look.
“An easier question to ask, miss, is who wasn’t an enemy of the colonel.” She sighed. “He was a hard man, not to speak ill of the dead. Not even his own family liked him much, sad to say. But I should’na be telling tales out o’ school.” She stood and started clearing plates. Everyone took the cue; after thanking Concordia for the basket of goodies, they went back to their duties.
Mrs. Lewis handed back the now-empty basket. “Give Ruby my regards. Be sure to tell her them’s the best scones she’s ever made, and I’m much obliged.”
“Thank you for the tea,” Concordia said, standing.
“Yer welcome, dearie. Come back anytime. Let me know if we can do anything to help Miss Sophia.” She shook her head. “That policeman is fishin’ in the wrong pond.” She gestured to the parlor maid. “Show Miss Wells out the front door, like a proper lady should leave.”
Concordia followed the parlor maid down the hall to the door. “How is Eli?” the girl asked. “Funny, how I miss that grubby little urchin.”
“He’s fine, doing odd jobs at the school. He’s staying with the Durands now.”
“Well, tell him that Clara says hello,” she said. She looked around and lowered her voice a bit. “And when you see him, can you ask him to bring back the spare house key? We’ve been missing it and I’ll get in trouble if it doesn’t turn up soon.”
“You gave Eli a house key?” Concordia asked, confused.
Clara opened the door and pointed to the potted urn beside the door. The flowers in the pot were starting to fade as the autumn days grew cooler. She pulled aside some of the stems, and Concordia could see a clear space in the soil.
“It’s the back door key, of course,” Clara said, “but we started keeping it there in case someone got locked out. The colonel used to get terrible mad when that happened. Eli used it the most, ‘cause he used to sell papers, you know, and sometimes it isn’t until late before the boys sell them all. He must have forgotten to return it before he left. But Mrs. Lewis will give me a time of it if she finds out.”
“I’ll have him bring it back as soon as he can,” Concordia promised.
It was close to the dinner hour when Concordia found the gap in the gate again. She would be expected to make an appearance in the dining hall, and still needed to change. She hurried along the wooded trail, and cleared the open grassy area to the gatekeeper’s house without being seen. She left the basket in a shadowed corner, picked up her bicycle, and pedaled quickly down the path to Willow Cottage.
And nearly ran down the lady principal.
Concordia panic-braked and swerved, tumbling into the grass. Miss Grant, hands on hips, glared and did nothing to help her up.
“Miss Wells. Have you been riding that infernal machine all day? You seem to have more leisure time than the rest of us. I will have to reconsider your responsibilities. And perhaps a ban on riding these –” she waved a hand at Concordia’s bicycle “–these machines is in order. Hardly decorous behavior in our lady instructors.”
Concordia winced as she got up, brushed off her skirts, and righted her bicycle. “I’m s-s-sorry, Miss Grant.” Hang the woman for getting her so rattled. If the lady principal knew what she had really been up to, she would be fired, for sure.
Then they both heard it: a thump-bump, thump-bump, along the sidewalk, and looked over to see Margaret Banning crossing the pavement from the quadrangle, coming along at more speed than Concordia would have given the elderly lady credit for.
“What’s the problem here?” Miss Banning demanded, taking in the sight of the trembling Concordia gripping the handlebars of her bicycle, and the red-faced Miss Grant practically hopping in her fury.
“This is none of your concern,” snapped the lady principal.
“‘To sin by silence when they should protest makes cowards of men.’ President Lincoln,” Miss Banning retorted, as she adjusted the muslin cap on her head, which had listed to one side in her haste. She fixed a glaring eye on Miss Grant, who faltered under the old lady’s gaze.
“Well, if you must know, Miss Wells has been shirking her responsibilities, again,” Miss Grant said. “Riding that blasted contraption, and gadding about. She has not been seen all day. I was weighing disciplinary action, when you interrupted.”
“‘Shirking’? ‘Gadding about’? Oh, my,” mocked Miss Banning. She thumped the ground emphatically with her cane. “And whatever do you mean, ‘she has not been seen’? Was she reported missing from a class? Were you making active inquiries about her, in your singular concern for her welfare? Was a search party involved?”
Concordia, open-mouthed, turned her head from one lady to the other, as though watching a game of lawn-tennis, waiting to see who would score an advantage first.
But Margaret Banning had been at the game too long to lose to the likes of the Ogre, who flushed a dusky red. “Miss Wells has been restricted to campus; I was merely ascertaining her whereabouts,” she muttered defensively.
“Oh, so you see fit to turn spies upon her, to make sure she doesn’t escape. What would she do if you weren’t watching her, climb a fence?”
As this was uncomfortably close to the truth, Concordia focused her attention upon digging the toe of her boot in the grass.
Miss Grant began to pout. “I will deal with my staff as I see fit.”
“Ah, but you didn’t ‘see fit’ to have your spies in my office today, now did you, Miss Grant?�
� Miss Banning asked, stabbing the ground with her cane again to emphasize her point. “If you had, perhaps you would have seen Miss Wells there, lending me a hand in cataloging that monstrous collection of ours.”
Concordia’s eyes widened at Miss Banning’s outright falsehood, but the old lady flushed with unabashed triumph.
The match was won, and the lady principal knew it.
“Go change into proper supper attire before you’re late,” Miss Grant tossed over her shoulder at Concordia, stomping off toward the dining hall in a swish of taffeta.
Miss Banning gave a gleeful chuckle when the woman was barely out of earshot.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” Concordia said.
“She would have given up soon, anyhow. I doubt the woman has ever been late for a meal in her life.”
“You lied to her,” Concordia said. “Aren’t you worried she’ll find you out?”
Miss Banning thwacked a tire rim of Concordia’s bicycle with her cane. “I did not lie, my good miss. I said ‘perhaps you would have seen Miss Wells there’. She chose to interpret it incorrectly. A sloppy-minded woman. Still, you should do what she says and get changed for supper. It’s getting late.”
As Miss Banning turned toward the dining hall, she added, “I don’t know what you were really up to, but be careful. You’ve made an enemy.”
Chapter 14
Speak. I am bound to hear.
I.v
Week 5, Instructor Calendar
October 1896
The mood on campus was picking up a bit. Lieutenant Capshaw was able to determine that the collapsed railing was indeed the result of careless workers, a relief to everyone’s mind.
In the meantime, preparations for the Halloween Masquerade Ball had begun in earnest. Perhaps that was why there had been no new pranks in the past few weeks. But Concordia knew that practical jokes were a time-honored All Hallows Eve tradition, and the staff needed to keep their wits about them. She hoped the ball would sufficiently preoccupy the mischief-makers. At least having the students all in one place would make it easier for the teachers to keep an eye on them.
