The Daughters of Jim Farrell

by Sylvia Bambola

  When Kate entered the back parlor she was startled to see Joshua sitting in one of the damask-covered chairs. She couldn’t say why she was surprised, after all this was where they had agreed to meet as soon as they had finished dressing. Maybe it was the way he looked, so . . . .

  “You are stunning,” Joshua said in a hushed tone. He rose to his feet as she walked to the center of the room, his eyes following her every move.

  “It has taken Charlotte the better part of the week to get all our gowns ready for Mr. Gaylord’s party. You can’t imagine what a dither she’s been in, heading operations like a general, and removing and replacing bows and sashes and the like so we would be fashionable enough to suit her. I managed to bear up well enough, but we all had to beg Virginia’s indulgence since she was tired of the whole affair by the second day.”

  Joshua’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “It was worth the effort.”

  Kate fluffed the many layers of lace decorating her outer skirt. “I would have preferred a simpler dress, but Charlotte insisted that since there are so few balls and operas in the area it has become the custom of some women to wear more elaborate gowns to an elegant dinner party, which, Charlotte assured us, Mr. Gaylord’s always qualifies, and therefore she wouldn’t hear of us wearing a cotton dress of subdued color sporting nothing but a bit of lace around the cuffs and neck.”

  Joshua’s grin widened, making Kate suddenly self-conscious of her plunging neckline and short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Her bustle and silk underskirt rustled as she walked to the fireplace. “Please sit, sir. There’s no need for you to remain standing.”

  “I prefer it,” he said, walking over to her.

  “I . . . see you have purchased a new suit.”

  “Well, I did promise Charlotte when she first told me about the invitation. And luckily the gent’s-ready-to-wear store had something only requiring a modest amount of alterations.”

  Kate knew she was staring but she just couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had never seen him look so handsome. His black coat, that had extended narrow lapels faced with silk, was short in front, with long tails in back, and was neatly pressed. Its low cut design revealed a good portion of his starched white shirt and elegant black waistcoat. A crisp white bowtie sat perched beneath his cleaned-shaven chin. Creaseless black trousers hit his highly polished black boots at just the proper height. And his sandy hair was neatly combed, parted on one side, and held in place with only a modest amount of oil.

  When Kate continued to stare, Joshua shifted his feet. “I . . . hope you approve. I’ve wanted you to see me like this for some time.”

  “Oh . . . you look . . . quite fine, actually. And yes, I approve, very much.”

  “Then you’ll not be embarrassed to take my arm at the Gaylord’s when we are summoned to dinner?”

  Kate fingered one of her pearl teardrop earrings and smiled. “I shall be honored to take your arm, sir.”

  He leaned closer, nearly touching her bare shoulder. “You look so beautiful, Kate, that when you first entered the room, you made my heart stop. Literally stop. It will be difficult to see any other woman tonight, but you.”

  Before Kate could say a word, Mother, Virginia, and Charlotte entered, their silks and satins rustling like dry leaves, their lace fluttering around them like butterflies. But they all looked beautiful: Mother with her elegant rose-colored silk dress and a rose-colored velvet ribbon around her neck; Virginia with her less ornate green gown that shimmered like an emerald in the lamp light; and Charlotte, who wore the most lace and ribbons of all but looked perfect in them. And everyone’s hair was elaborately set with braids and curls and pearl-studded hair pins.

  “Oh, I’m so nervous.” Charlotte wrung her gloved hands. “Though I can’t imagine why. This is sure to be a wonderful evening. So gay with good conversation and sumptuous food. And afterward, well, afterward there will be parlor games enough to make everyone laugh and feel cheerful.” Her face flushed as she directed her comments to no one in particular. “We are all sure to have a most happy time.”

  Mother just nodded, while Virginia sighed and looked pained. Then one of the boarders yelled from the hall, “The carriage is here!”

  Kate tried to ignore Charlotte’s incessant babbling as the large enclosed Brougham coach bumped and jiggled along the dirt road heading for the outskirts of Pottsville. It was difficult to see through the dark overcast night with only the coach’s front lanterns to illuminate the road, but judging from the time spent traveling, Kate guessed they were nearly there. And it wouldn’t be too soon. With so much lace and satin and silk filling the interior, the carriage was stuffy. Even the little air coming through the coach window gave no relief. And Charlotte was adding to the overall discomfort.

  Though Kate was unable, in the dark interior, to see the expression on anyone’s face, she was certain that others were also growing weary of her sister’s effusive manner in extolling the goodness of Mr. Gaylord for sending his carriage, and for the tactful way he avoided acknowledging that the Farrells no longer owned a carriage or even a barouche, having sold both, along with all their horses, soon after the hanging.

  “I’ve always said Benjamin was thoughtful, haven’t I? And this illustrates the point,” Charlotte continued. “And one can’t take these kindnesses for granted.”

  But just as Kate was about to implore Charlotte to be silent, Mother’s soft voice broke in. “Yes, Charlotte, we quite understand about Benjamin’s kindness, as you have made it amply clear . . . numerous times.”

  And that put an end to the matter, and just in time, too, for the coach rattled past the two giant marble lions marking the entrance of a lengthy driveway, a driveway that curved in front of the sprawling Gaylord mansion.

  Kate quickly forgot her discomfort in the profusion of light that greeted them. The entire length of the driveway was lined with lanterns hanging on ornate black wrought-iron poles, and every window of the house brimmed with illumination.

  “Oh, dear, we must be late.” Charlotte gestured toward the many carriages filling the crushed-stone driveway as their coach pulled to a stop behind the last in the caravan.

  Within seconds, the coachman opened the door, then helped everyone disembark, beginning with Mother.

  Kate and Joshua were the last to exit, and while Charlotte continued fussing about the lateness of the hour, Kate stood gazing at the three-story brick mansion nestled among large sprawling maples. Nearly half a year had passed since her last visit; the evening the Gaylords entertained Franklin B. Gowen and numerous railroad executives and their families. Like most Gaylord parties, it had left Kate feeling uncomfortable and irritated. She was exceedingly grateful that Joshua was here to help her through this one.

  She took his arm and allowed him to aid her in maneuvering the paved walkway with her trailing gown. Then up three broad steps which ran the length of the covered porch, past the huge white columns, until they stood before an ornate mahogany and stained-glass door where a doorman greeted them.

  Kate didn’t recognize the doorman, and wondered if the rumors of Mrs. Gaylord firing her help for the slightest infraction were true. The doorman ushered everyone into a spacious entranceway boasting a Bavarian crystal chandelier that looked, to Kate, as large as her dining room table; then into a parlor that could swallow three of her own front parlors with ease.

  It was difficult not to be impressed, even for Kate who was usually unimpressed by such things, and even after having seen it several times, as well as being instructed by the matronly Mrs. Gaylord on the origin and value of nearly all the furnishings. Long flowing red velvet drapes adorned the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lush couches, chairs and side tables filled the center of the room; a piano and sideboard hugged one wall, a massive gilded pier mirror with lamp sconces covered a good portion of another, while an enormous fireplace, with a large scrolled pink-marble mantel from Italy, dominated the fourt
h. The walls themselves were adorned with massive paintings of various members of the Gaylord family along with numerous country scenes. There was so much to see, and so much finery, not only in furniture but in statues and urns and the like, that it was easy to overlook the exquisite rug on the floor, until Kate happened to glance down. She smiled as she wondered what Mrs. Gaylord would think if she knew the entire Farrell clan was here trampling her prized Brussels carpet.

  And then she saw Benjamin Gaylord, elegantly dressed, right in the center of the room, a room which now held more than twenty people. To one side, she noticed Martin Roach and his wife, Hester, conversing with a tall unpleasant looking man; someone she had never met. She wondered who he might be, but before she could ask, Benjamin Gaylord appeared, smiling, then extended his greetings to each of them.

  “I’m so gratified you were able to come,” he said after protocol had been satisfied. His eyes were fixed on Charlotte. “Was the coach satisfactory?”

  Charlotte’s blond curls bobbed as she nodded her head. “Yes, quite.”

  “I was most anxious over your comfort.”

  “It was kind of you to send your conveyance but there was no need for you to be anxious.” Charlotte’s gloved hand flitted in the air like a dove.

  Kate was sure this bland discourse would have gone on forever if that tall, gangly man she had seen with the Roaches hadn’t stepped into their circle and begged an introduction. Upon closer observation he appeared, to Kate, even more unpleasant, with tight thin lips, a long nose, and the dark beady eyes of a raven; a stingy-looking man by all accounts.

  At first Benjamin appeared disturbed by the intrusion, then, after some hesitation, introduced each of them in turn. When he ended with, “And this is Mr. Walter Hill, the new Superintendent of the Schuylkill Division of the Reading Railroad,” an awkward silence fell over them.

  Kate studied the intruder through squinting eyes. So, this was Father’s replacement. And well pleased about it, too, judging by his smug manner. She had heard of him; a seasoned railroad man but one who had no ties to the lower anthracite region and therefore no loyalty to it. She chided herself for being so harsh, for her un-Christian like attitude, but when he opened his mouth she knew she had not been harsh enough.

  “So you’re the Farrell everyone’s talking about,” he said, looking at Virginia. “Well, little lady, you certainly have folks at the railroad in an uproar with those articles of yours. And frankly, I’m surprised you’d write such nonsense, being the daughter of a railroad man yourself. Though I suppose a Judas can be found anywhere.” He laughed as though making a joke.

  “I understand you hail from New York, sir,” Benjamin said, obviously trying to change the subject.

  But Mr. Hill would have none of it. “How you could side with those malcontents is hard to fathom, Miss Virginia. Did you know that the Company was forced to take that poor unfortunate Mr. Foley by rail all the way to the upper anthracite region and the nearest hospital, where, I understand, a surgeon removed his spleen or was it a kidney? Maybe it was his liver. Not quite sure. But it proves what I’ve always said, women don’t understand the workings of a man’s world and should stay home and tend to their knitting.”

  Kate slipped her arm around Virginia’s waist, “Excuse us, sir, but we need to pay our respects to the other guests.” Then she whisked Virginia away.

  “I’m glad you got me out of that,” Virginia whispered, “before I said something I’d regret. I don’t want to spoil Charlotte’s evening. I only hope that disagreeable Mr. Hill won’t be sitting anywhere near us at dinner. Imagine someone so insufferable taking Father’s place!”

  But they had hardly distanced themselves from the offending Mr. Hill, when Martin Roach cornered them. Perspiration dotted his portly face and his thick black mustache, which seemed fuller than normal, drooped a bit at the edges. He eyed them both, allowing his gaze to linger on their low necklines before directing his attention to Kate.

  “Seems you don’t need my help after all. Seems all has been forgiven and you’ve been accepted back into the fold. Though I must say I’m surprised. But now that you’ve regained your position in polite society, it shouldn’t be necessary to continue your investigation. What do you have to gain? You’ve already gotten what you wanted. You’re accepted again. Why remain at odds with the world and seek to prove something that can’t be proven? We can be friends.” His hand traveled up Kate’s arm, to the edge of her short sleeve. “We should be friends.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Joshua said, walking up to the group and giving Martin Roach a sharp look. “May I escort you both to the dining room? The announcement has just been made. Dinner is about to be served.”

  Gratefully, Kate took Joshua’s arm. Already Benjamin was leading Mother and Charlotte into the dining room, and so they formed a line behind their host, then entered the well-lit room. A large multi-armed candlestick sat in the center of the table. And around the room were numerous patent lamps on gilded tripods, and these, as well as the large adjustable ceiling lamp, all made the dark stucco walls glow; walls that, the portly Mrs. Gaylord once told Kate, were kept free of paper and fabric to prevent the trapping of food odors.

  Kate marveled at the huge mahogany table covered with floor-length linen, gleaming English china, sparkling crystal goblets, and small sterling silver card holders marking the place of each guest.

  As soon as everyone was seated, the butler and footmen served the first course, a brothy fish soup. And as they poured the accompanying sauterne into goblets, Kate looked down the long table to where Charlotte sat at Benjamin’s right. She was smiling and talking and making everyone around her smile and talk, too. It was then that Kate noticed Charlotte’s easy grace and natural gentility, something neither Kate nor Virginia really possessed. Why hadn’t Kate seen it before? She had always thought Charlotte shallow. And perhaps she was to some extent, but she was also a woman of the times, who understood her place in a man’s world and how to fulfill her role in it. And Charlotte and Benjamin did make a perfect couple; well suited in both temperament and interests. Both perfect hosts, willing to sit at a table for hours entertaining people Kate and Virginia often found trying or uninteresting. And after dinner, Charlotte and Benjamin would return to the parlor and play forfeits or charades, where inevitably one of the men, after imbibing too much wine, would crawl on all fours and grunt like a pig or do something else foolish during his charade. But Charlotte and Benjamin would enjoy it utterly, and be charming throughout, while she and Virginia and even Mother sat grinding their teeth.

  Seeing it all now made Kate appreciate Charlotte in ways she never had before. Perhaps she would do well to learn from her younger sister’s example, Kate thought as she picked up her spoon. But even before she could dip it into her soup, Mr. Walter Hill, who it pleased God to seat across from Kate, as a test, perhaps, or out of a sense of humor, leaned over.

  “Well, little lady,” he said, looking at Virginia who sat on the other side of Joshua. “Let’s discuss why someone of your breeding would align herself with those ruffians at the Mattson Colliery.”

  Virginia looked up, sipped her spoonful of soup, then said in a clear, sweet voice, “I think I prefer to discuss how Mr. Gowen manipulated coal prices in our area and brought the local collieries to their knees.”

  Kate put down her spoon and took a deep breath as her hands retreated to her lap. And when they did, she felt Joshua’s hand cover hers. It was a comforting, reassuring touch, and instead of withdrawing, she gave him a grateful squeeze.

  It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 8

  Kate needed to take matters into her own hands. Things had gone too far. Charlotte and Virginia were still not speaking, and it had been days since the Gaylord party and their loud, tearful argument. It had to end, even if it meant forcing the issue. So, instead of scrubbing the large kitchen dresser with fine white sand as Mother had as
ked, she went to where Virginia was busy removing spots from their pewter. Without a word, she took her sister by the arm and pulled her from the room.

  “What are you doing? I have no time for games,” Virginia said, dropping her oily flannel rag as she tried extracting herself from Kate’s fierce grip.

  Without answering, Kate continued dragging Virginia. When they reached the front parlor, there was Charlotte on her knees sprinkling dried tea leaves over the carpet.

  “Come!” Kate said, jerking Charlotte to her feet while keeping her other hand firmly clamped on Virginia.

  “What . . . what’s going on? Where are you taking me?”

  Kate ignored the question as she towed the pair to the back parlor, shoved them inside, then closed the door behind her.

  “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the two damask-covered chairs.

  The pair scowled, but obeyed.

  “Now,” Kate said, putting her hands on her hips, “don’t you think it’s time you settled your differences? You can’t go on like this forever! You’re sisters! And grownups! And living in the same house!”

  Charlotte pulled a white lace handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed the tears that were forming. Virginia just sat looking down at her folded hands.

  “All right, if no one is going to say anything, I will. Charlotte, I know you’re upset over what happened at Benjamin’s party, but I was in a position to see and hear the whole thing, and it was that awful Mr. Hill’s fault. He baited Virginia by deliberately starting a discussion he knew was inflammatory.”

  “That may be so, but Virginia is intelligent, the smartest of us all. It shouldn’t have been difficult to keep Mr. Hill in check, not for a woman of her abilities. The dinner party was Benjamin’s way of telling everyone he accepts all of us in spite of everything. Then Virginia had to go and ruin it.”

  Kate waited for Virginia to respond. When she didn’t, Kate nodded. “Charlotte’s right on that point. Your ability to foil an argument, or refute one intelligently, far surpasses ours. I suppose you could have exercised more self-control.”