Fallen Women (37 page)

She brushed the skirt again and laid it on the bed, and as she did so, she thought about Nellie, sure that the girl had not quit.

She was curious. Perhaps Nellie had left something behind that would explain her disappearance. Beret glanced out of the window, but William was nowhere to be seen. And she would have heard the carriage if her aunt had returned. Cook was in the kitchen, and there was no sign of the second maid.

The servants’ quarters were upstairs. Beret had never been there, but she knew well enough where the help slept. She unlocked her bedroom door and opened it noiselessly, peering down the hall, which was dark. Only one light had been turned on, and it was near her aunt and uncle’s bedroom. Beret listened but heard nothing, so she eased the door shut and walked quickly to the stairway leading to the servants’ quarters.

The stairs were not carpeted, of course, and try as she might to be quiet, she could hear her shoes on the steps. Well, what of it? Beret thought. She was not only her aunt’s guest but her heiress. She had every right to go into a maid’s room. She reached the third floor and looked around, not sure which room was Nellie’s. It would be a small one, of course. William would have the best room, and Cook the next best. She wondered if Nellie slept with the other maid but remembered the girl saying once that working in the Stanton house was the first time she had ever had a bed to herself.

Beret thought about the outside of the house and decided William would have the room with two windows looking out over the stables, the one above Beret’s own room. But just to be sure, she opened the door to that bedroom and looked in. A man’s coat hung over the back of a chair. Beret closed the door and went to the next room, where she found a uniform on a hook. Cook’s room. The third room was empty. It might have been Nellie’s, but there was dust on the floor, and judging from the musty smell, Beret thought no one had been in that room for a long time.

The room next to it was small with a white enamel bed covered by a spread that must have seen its first use in one of the rooms downstairs, then been consigned to the servants’ quarters when it began to show wear or was discarded in a redecorating. The room was clean but bare of any personal items. No clothes hung on the hooks. Nor were there books or letters or the kind of knickknacks that servant girls collected. Nothing was in the wastebasket. The room had been emptied out, and not long before, because it was clean and did not smell shut up.

Beret went inside, closing the door behind her, and much as she had examined the prostitute Sadie’s quarters, she then examined this room, for surely this had been where Nellie slept. She pulled back the spread and saw that the sheets and pillowcase had been removed. She checked under the mattress and in the drawers, the underside of the bureau, but there was nothing. Well, what had she expected? Did she really think Nellie would have left some clue for her? And a clue to what? The murders had been solved. The girl had been dismissed. She had simply packed her things and cleared out. There was nothing in the room that suggested anything else.

As she turned to leave, Beret heard footsteps in the hallway, and she froze. Then a door was unlatched. Beret tiptoed to the door of Nellie’s room and stooped down so that she could peer through the keyhole. A door at the far end of the hallway was open. The room was one that was deep under the eaves and must belong to the second maid. Beret opened Nellie’s door just enough so that she could see into the room and part of a figure dressed in a maid’s uniform. The girl’s back was turned, so Beret slipped into the hall toward the stairs, but at the last moment, she turned, and pretending she had just come to the third floor, she walked to the hired girl’s room, making enough noise so as not to startle the maid.

The girl heard her and turned, surprise on her face when she recognized Beret, for she must have thought the footsteps belonged to William or to the cook. “Oh,” she breathed. “Miss. What are you doing up here? Is something wrong?”

“I heard you on the back stairs and thought I would ask you if you could clean my skirt for me. It was spoiled on the streetcar.”

“I…” She looked around, flustered. “If it’s all right with Mr. William, I could try.”

“Thank you. I was going to ask Nellie to do it, but I was disappointed to learn she is no longer here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I liked her. I did not know she was thinking of leaving.”

The maid nodded.

“You are surprised, too?”

“I didn’t say nothing, but yeah, I guess so.”

“Did she find a better position?”

The maid shrugged, uncomfortable.

“Then she was let go?” Beret asked. When the girl didn’t reply, Beret continued, “She must have done something terribly wrong to be dismissed without notice.”

“I dunno, miss. She was a worker.” She leaned close to Beret and whispered, “I think she got the sack.”

“I can’t imagine why. I hope I didn’t cause it.”

“Oh no, ma’am. She liked you. She told me. She says you was different from your sister—begging pardon, ma’am.”

“That’s all right—Louise, is it?”

The girl nodded.

“I should like to help her, Louise. Can you tell me where she is?”

“Over on the west side someplace. I don’t know the address. You could ask Mr. William. He’d know.”

“Yes, of course.” The girl couldn’t—or wouldn’t—reveal anything, and it was clear she was nervous, afraid perhaps that in talking to Beret, she, too, could get fired.

“If that’s all, ma’am, I got to get back to the kitchen. I only come up to change my shoes. They’re new, and they pinch my feet.” Beret dismissed her, and Louise hurried down the stairs.

Disappointed that she had learned nothing, Beret started to follow her, and then she glanced at William’s door and wondered what might be in his room. There was nothing left in Nellie’s quarters. Perhaps the girl had left something behind, and William had taken it. Beret tiptoed to the stairs to make sure Louise was gone, then walked quickly to the butler’s room and opened the door. She went first to the window and drew aside the curtain a little to make sure William was not coming back, but the street and yard were empty. The window, she noticed, looked directly into Jonas’s room in the carriage house. It struck her that William could have seen anything Jonas did there.

She looked around, not certain what she was doing in the room. She almost laughed, because she had no idea what she was after. The top of the bureau was bare, and she went through the drawers quickly, thinking she might find something of Nellie’s, or even opium, but there was nothing but clothing, neatly arranged. She put her hand under the mattress and pulled out a magazine, a girlie magazine. Well, the butler had that in common with Jonas, Beret thought, and suddenly she was ashamed of herself for prying. She had no right to be there. William had done nothing to merit her suspicion. Beret returned the magazine to its hiding place and backed out of the room. Before she could close the door, however, she heard footsteps, and when Beret turned, William was standing in the hallway.

“Madam,” he said. His voice was as flat and unemotional as always, although he had every right to be angry with her.

“Hello, William,” she said, her voice as calm as she could make it. After all, she had confronted bullies, drunks, men with knives, although it had not been because she had sneaked into their quarters.

“May I help you with something?”

“Yes, I am looking for Nellie’s room,” she said. “Clearly this is not it. I felt a draft and was checking to make sure a window was not left open.”

“I always close the window.”

“I can see that.”

“That is Nellie’s room.” He pointed to a door. “Is there something you need there?”

“I was hoping to find her address. She was very good to me, and I wanted to send her a gift as a way of thanking her.”

“She did not leave her address.”

“Even in her room?”

“No.”

“Then no one knows where she went?”

“No. I believe Louise told you that. Do you want to check her room—again?”

Beret colored. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, William,” she said, walking past him toward the stairs.

“Madam.”

Beret stopped. “Yes.”

“Mrs. Stanton believes the third floor is the servants’ sanctuary. She would not be pleased you were here.”

Nor would you, Beret thought, but she said, “And will you tell her?”

“Do you wish me to?”

Beret did not reply. She hurried down the stairs, thinking again that she did not like the butler much.

Chapter 24

Beret returned to her room, not at all pleased with her performance. She had made a fool of herself. She had found nothing to interest her, and she had aroused William’s dislike and suspicion, although it was clear to her he already disliked and was suspicious of her. Well, she was suspicious of him, too. There was something about his actions that wasn’t right. Beret wondered if he would tell Varina she had been snooping.

She closed the door of her room, thinking to lock it, but that would be hypocritical after the way she had snooped upstairs. She had not slept well the night before and was tired. The soiled skirt was on the bed where she had thrown it, and she picked it up and started for the wardrobe. Beret would have to take it to the kitchen later in hopes she could remove the stains herself.

She opened the wardrobe and looked for a place to hang the skirt. The wardrobe was filled with clothes, Lillie’s clothes, of course, although right in the center was the suit that the dressmaker had altered for her. It hung where she couldn’t miss seeing it. Nellie would have put it there before she left. The dressmaker had said the suit was too plain for Lillie, but Beret had liked it best of all of her sister’s clothes, much better than the ball gowns. Her aunt had mentioned a meeting with the solicitor, and the outfit would be suitable. It also would be appropriate for the train—in case Varina asked her to leave. She remembered her aunt had a suit of the same material, and would have to inquire whether Varina planned to wear it that day, so that the two would not be dressed alike.

The idea amused Beret, two women dressed like twins. That would give the ladies of Varina’s circle something else to gossip about.

Beret decided to try on the ensemble to see if it had been altered properly. She removed her dress and stepped into the skirt, buttoning it. Then she put on the jacket and went to the long mirror that rested in the corner of the room to admire herself. But the fit was off. The skirt was too short, the jacket too large. Beret frowned, wondering how the dressmaker could have been so sloppy. The suit would have to go back, and Beret removed the garments, laying them on the bed.

She donned her day dress and returned to the discarded suit, then she realized the mistake. This was not her suit at all but Varina’s. Nellie must have hung it in Beret’s wardrobe by mistake. The dressmaker would not have returned an outfit that was crumpled—and dirty, Beret realized, as she lifted the jacket. The piece was badly stained. She held the garment close to her face to examine the damage. The stains were dark against the dark fabric, which was why Beret had not spotted them at first. She studied the skirt and found it, too, had been fouled. She felt her heart race as a thought occurred to her, and she went back to the wardrobe. Hanging on the hook where the suit had been was a white shirtwaist covered with blotches that stood out against the starched white cotton—deep red stains, almost brown. It was as if Varina had been sprayed with something.

Beret held the blouse close, then wet her finger and rubbed it on the stain. She examined her finger and shivered, hurrying into the bathroom where she ran the taps until the sink was full, and dipped the shirtwaist into the water, watching as the water turned red—bright red, red the color of blood. No, Beret told herself, staring at what were now pink smudges on the blouse. It was a mistake. She sat on the edge of the tub and put her forehead down on the cool porcelain of the sink. “No,” she said out loud. “Aunt Varina, you couldn’t have.”

“Oh yes I could,” a voice said from the bedroom. Startled, Beret looked up and found herself facing Varina. With the taps running, Beret had not heard her aunt enter the bedroom.

The shirtwaist still in her hand, dripping bloody water onto the tile floor, Beret went to the bathroom door. “What is this blood?”

Varina didn’t answer.

“Is it Lillie’s?”

Beret’s aunt cocked her head.

“You stabbed Lillie?”

At that, Varina gave a harsh laugh. “You didn’t think your poor besotted uncle did it, did you?” Her eyes glittered in her gray face.

“Your own niece? How could you?”

Dressed in black, as if she had just returned from a solemn social event, Varina stood in the middle of the room, staring at Beret. “She was indeed my niece. How could
she
?”

“You killed her?” Beret had not fully processed the idea.

“Oh, I didn’t intend to. I only wanted to talk to her. But you know how insolent Lillie could be. She laughed at me.” Varina’s back stiffened, and she repeated, “After all she had done, after she betrayed me, she laughed at
me
. You know how she was.”

Beret knew. She knew now. But nothing Lillie could have done justified her murder. “What happened?” Beret asked, thrusting aside the dripping blouse and wiping her hands on her skirt.

Varina studied her niece for a long time. “I suppose I can trust you,” she said, as she leaned against one of the bedposts. “I went to that foul place to ask her to release your uncle. He fancied himself in love with her. At his age! He was willing to give up everything we’d worked for to be with her. He was convinced the child was his, although I’d told him a hundred times she had been with other men. Jonas had told me about them. But your uncle didn’t care. He didn’t care that another might have fathered the baby. He was that crazy to have a child. It was enough that the baby was Lillie’s. He would have thrown me over for her! How could I compete with Lillie? Look at me, Beret. I’m old and wrinkled. I would have been alone and shunned, and all because of her.”