Secrets of Sloane House (7 page)

She certainly hoped that was still the case, though something about him had made her feel a little uncomfortable again. “What’s he like?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem to know him well. What’s special about him?”

Nanci laughed softly. “Douglass is the master’s son.
That’s
why he is special, silly. That’s all that matters, anyway.”

“No, I mean, is he kind? Mean? Have you ever talked with him?”

“Talked with him?”

“Yes. I mean, you’ve worked here for two years. Surely you’ve had occasion to speak to him once or twice. What do you know about him?” Rosalind bit her tongue so she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“I know he likes his shoes polished every Thursday until they shine. He likes his eggs poached and his fireplace swept clean daily. At least, he did back when I was just a house maid.”

“Come now, you have to know something more.”

“Actually . . . I do,” Nanci said after a moment’s pause. “Mr. Douglass has been seein’ someone special, but I hear he don’t care for her hoity-toity ways all that much.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve even been told that he doesn’t always find all those ladies to his taste.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” Lowering her voice, Nanci added, “I’ve never told anyone this, but once I noticed him smiling my way.”

Eager for more, Rosalind pounced on that bit of information. “Oh? And what did you do?”

“Why, I smiled just as sweet as you please right back, that’s what I did.”

Rosalind was disappointed by the answer, but promptly pushed her reaction aside. “I would have been too surprised to do anything but stand there with a smile. I was practically shaking in my boots and all I was trying to do was stay out of his way.”

“Don’t worry, Rosalind. Before you know it, you’ll understand how everything works in this house. You’ll know when to smile and know when to stay in the shadows.” Before Rosalind could comment on that,
Nanci said, “Well, we’d best stop talking and get to sleep. It’d be a pity if we was too worn out to enjoy our afternoon and evening off.”

Dutifully, Rosalind closed her eyes. But all she could think about were Nanci’s words about knowing how to get along in the house. She wondered if Miranda had ever learned all the rules to working in the household.

And what might have happened if she hadn’t.

“Lord, please be with Miranda,” Rosalind whispered into the darkness. “Please keep her safe, free from harm.” As disturbing images swirled in her head, and as she recalled how Miranda had written about the Sloanes’ power and the way they did things, she added one more plea. “Or at least free from pain.”

CHAPTER 6

T
he World’s Columbian Exposition was far bigger than Rosalind had ever imagined. From the majestic fountains greeting visitors at the entrance to the vast array of animals and foreigners, there was plenty for all to see. Each stately columned building was filled with remarkable machinery and exotic inventions from faraway locales. The papers proclaimed that a person could spend two weeks at the fair and still not see everything.

Rosalind imagined that to be true.

Each stately building glowed in ethereal white, encouraging even the most hardened of gentlemen and women to speak in soft, respectful tones. The giant buildings, each glimmering in the twilight, promised magical wonders within. Together, their arrangement produced a unique serenity that soothed one’s soul.

Yet what kept Rosalind mesmerized was the great number of people. Ladies and maids, gentlemen and dockworkers, children and soldiers all filled the area. But instead of being worried about the
crowds, for the first time since her arrival in Chicago, Rosalind felt her spirits lift. She wished she could live in the White City.

Nanci felt the same way. “It’s a shame we can’t come back again tomorrow,” Nanci said with a pout. “We’ve walked so far and have only visited a few of the states’ buildings. I’ve a mind to visit Pennsylvania’s display next. We need to see the Liberty Bell, don’t you think?”

Nanci had been that way all afternoon, holding her Columbian Exposition newspaper tightly in one hand while pointing out sights and sounds with the other.

“Perhaps one day we’ll get to come again. You never know,” Rosalind ventured, though in truth, she had no idea how she would ever get to visit again. She’d neither the funds nor the opportunity to visit twice.

“Perhaps.” With a sigh, Nanci reached for her hand, and together they traipsed over gravel walkways and picturesque bridges. “Since the newspaper says the lines are long for the Liberty Bell, let’s make our way to the midway. I hear Blarney Castle is right magical.”

Their journey to the other end of the park took quite some time. It was impossible not to stop often to investigate different sights and sounds.

It was also impossible for Rosalind not to scan every face that passed, on the off chance that she’d find her sister. She carried the small photo she had of Miranda in her reticule, though fearing she was on a fool’s errand. The one time she dared show it to a vendor while Nanci was looking elsewhere, he laughed heartily at her question, saying thousands of people passed him each day.

The situation felt overwhelming. Rosalind wasn’t very brave. She wasn’t very good at subterfuge. Every time she left the confines of the grand mansion, she became more and more aware that she had a very limited view of the world.

In Wisconsin, she’d spent the majority of her time with either animals or her family. Here in Chicago, it seemed very few people ever spent time with their own kin. Instead, they chose to flit here and there, to accept jobs in a city that was dangerous and exciting. They’d made the choice to try something new, to be in strange surroundings.

She, on the other hand, was there only because her family was that desperate. After her father made a short trip to Chicago and could not convince either Mr. or Mrs. Sloane or the police to help him find Miranda, she’d been the only person in her family who could leave the farm and look for her. So she’d gone, not because she was the best choice, but because she was the only choice.

And now, as each day passed, she worried that perhaps she was merely making things worse. In many ways, she feared she was going to let her parents down, her whole family down. And most of all, Miranda herself.

As the sights and the sounds of the fair surrounded her, Rosalind’s earlier fascination disappeared. She felt almost claustrophobic. There were too many people, too close together.

Nanci, however, seemed to glow from her excitement. “Do you hear them folks behind us?” she asked when they were standing in a line of at least twenty deep for cider. “I think they’re speaking Chinese!”

“How do you know what Chinese sounds like?”

“I don’t, but I’ve got a good imagination!”

Despite her fears, Rosalind laughed. “That you do, Nanci. You have a very good imagination.”

“You need to relax and learn to look around you a bit, you know,” Nanci warned. “Here you are at the one place in the world where everyone is coming together, and you’re looking as if you’re about to jump out of your skin!”

Rosalind was in awe of the many foreigners who wandered
through the buildings. But instead of looking at them like prospective friends as Nanci did, she looked at them as possible kidnappers. She couldn’t help it. Her sister’s disappearance made her fear and distrust almost everyone.

“I can’t wait to see the belly dancers,” Nanci whispered. “I heard the women wear veils too.”

After they each got a cold glass of cider, they sipped their drinks near one of the many parks and viewing areas. “We need to see as much as we possibly can, Rosalind.” Without stopping for air, Nanci continued. “And, of course, I’m eager to see all the curious people and animals. Do we dare visit the Egyptian temple?”

At last, Rosalind felt herself getting more excited about their adventure as well. “I’ll go wherever you would like.”

“There’s a girl. I knew you’d get the hang of things sooner or later.”

“I guess it’s finally happened then.” Picking up a handout a previous visitor had tossed to the ground, Rosalind’s eyes grew wide. “But perhaps we could take in one of the many shows today? I see there’s an opera here.”

Nanci wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never been much for opera.” Pointing to another flyer that littered the ground, she said, “But I would like to see the funhouse.”

“And the wax museum.”

Nanci moaned. “There’s so much to see. Do you think Mrs. Sloane will notice if we don’t come home tonight?”

“Only if her dress isn’t pressed for tomorrow,” Rosalind joked. Truly, she couldn’t imagine what her employers would do if she and Nanci stayed very late at the fair. They might wonder if they were missing, like Miranda and Tilly.

As they approached the entrance to the midway, they both looked at the giant Ferris wheel looming over them. It was a massive structure.
Each enclosed car held sixty people. As it revolved in its lit splendor, Rosalind blanched. “Should we go on the wheel now?”

Nanci shuddered. “I don’t care that we got tokens. The thought of being so high up scares me to death.”

They’d just passed the signs for Wild Bill Cody’s Wild West Show when Rosalind felt her heart jump . . . but this time because of something far different than a fear of heights.

Approaching them were Douglass Sloane and his gentleman friend, Reid Armstrong. Gripping her friend’s hand, she whispered, “Nanci, that’s Douglass Sloane coming this way.”

Nanci’s cheeks bloomed pink. “Truly?” She craned her neck. “Oh, look at him now, Rosalind! Isn’t he something? Douglass is so handsome. Do you think they’ve seen us yet?”

“I sincerely hope not. Hurry, let’s go visit the wax museum.”

“The what?”

“The wax museum. That building, there.” Her tone had become urgent. Though they had been given the time off, she still felt uneasy about being seen by one of their employers. More than that was the slow, worrisome sensation she always ended up feeling whenever Douglass was nearby. He made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was a man about town, wealthy and sophisticated, and she was merely a farmer’s daughter pretending to be a sleuth, or because she had a terrible feeling that he was somehow connected to her sister’s disappearance.

No matter the reason, she certainly didn’t want his company to ruin their day of freedom.

Gripping her friend’s arm, she gave it a little yank. “Hurry, Nanci. We don’t want to run into them.”

But instead of heeding Rosalind’s wishes, Nanci smiled gamely at the two approaching men. Both nodded in return, then Douglass’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Well, what do you know? Two of my housemaids. Rosalind and . . .”

“Nanci, sir.” She gave a little curtsy.

“Ah, yes. Are you two having a good time?”

“Oh yes, indeed, sir. I mean, Mr. Sloane, sir. I mean, we were given the afternoon and evening off by your father.”

He leaned close. “My father is Mr. Sloane. Call me Douglass, yes?”

“I couldn’t.” But all the same, Nanci leaned a little closer.

His dimple appeared. “Sure you could. Especially here. After all, no one back home will ever know what we do.”

Rosalind felt her nerves tighten as his words floated over them. To her way of thinking, they sounded vaguely threatening. But it seemed she was the only one who thought that. Nanci was smiling flirtatiously, and Douglass looked pleased.

And Mr. Armstrong? He simply looked bored.

Feeling slightly silly, Rosalind forced herself to relax. Her problem was that she saw danger at every turn. Because her sister’s welfare and disappearance rested at the top of her concerns, she most likely saw problems where there were none.

Worried about things that she shouldn’t concern herself about.

Standing beside Nanci, even Rosalind had to admit that Douglass Sloane was charming. Furthermore, it truly was a blessing that he was so friendly. She’d served enough men and women in the dining rooms to realize that most of the guests barely deigned to even notice the servants, let alone bother to learn their names. Still fewer took the time to ever have a conversation with them.

She should have known better than to assume anything about Douglass. After all, she’d been raised with her mother’s constant gentle reminder that they were all God’s children, and therefore equal in his eyes.

With all that in mind, Rosalind tried her best to be a bit more lighthearted. “Perhaps I will call you Douglass too.”

Dramatically, Douglass patted his chest. “Be still, my heart. My name sounds so sweet on your lips.”

Unable to stop herself, Rosalind giggled. Yes, Douglass Sloane flirted too much. And surely a respectful woman would never give any of his words credence. She did not. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that having a sophisticated man like Douglass Sloane take notice of a country girl like her made her slightly breathless.

You
have
been
a
foolish
girl
, she scolded herself.
Imagining
problems
where
there
are
none
and
blackguards
where
only
friends
appear.

Douglass Sloane really was terribly charming. And he seemed nice too. Surely all of that wasn’t pretense. She didn’t know society’s ways, but she liked to think that she did know people. Surely she’d be able to know immediately if a person was dangerous. Really dangerous.

Yes, she liked to think so. And she needed an ally in the house if she was ever going to truly uncover all the mysteries surrounding Miranda’s disappearance. Instinctively, she knew she couldn’t rely only on information passed to her by servants. She needed the perspective and knowledge that only one of the family—someone in society—could know.

The first spark of real hope lit inside of her. Maybe her working in the house, maybe all this subterfuge, wasn’t for naught after all.

Reid cleared his throat, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “I believe it’s time we let you, uh, ladies go on your way. You no doubt have other things to do, as do we.” Though unspoken, the meaning under his words was unashamedly evident. He’d had enough of two maids’ company.