The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow (23 page)

Charlotte laughed nervously. “It is a position that seems to open up frequently.”

Archie shook his head emphatically. “That's not enough
for me. I know you came to Chicago with Henry and went into service. But I don't know what happened that made you so afraid. I brought you here to see this”—he gestured toward the long, multi-storied building—“and to show you that it's possible to dream of a better life. It's out there. We just have to grab hold.”

Archie gripped both of Charlotte's shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

Her lip trembled. “But . . . you were so disappointed at what I did . . . for Henry.”

He nodded. “I admit I wish you had made another decision. But I'm not going to give up even on that.”

“I still have a husband, Archie,” she whispered. “What future can we have?”

“If you truly believe you are in danger because of your husband, then I want to help you find a way to break the legal bond. And once you're safe, I want to get your baby back.”

“It's too late!”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Archie, I have a husband. I gave away my child. Even if it were possible for him to be safe with me, how could I break Miss Brewster's heart?”

“I don't know how it will work out. I just know it's not over.”

“But things happen for a reason,” Charlotte said. “Miss Brewster did not think it was coincidence that she came to Chicago when she did. She thought it was God's plan for her to meet the baby.”

“She came with certain wishes for a husband and family,” Archie said, “just as you came with certain fears. That's not the same as trusting God.”

“I'm a little disappointed with God,” Charlotte admitted softly.

“I know,” Archie said, “but that can change too.”

Sarah put aside the linen napkins Mrs. Fletcher had given her to hem. She had only finished three, and the set was eighteen, but it was time to start on the soup for dinner. Charlotte did not seem to be anywhere in sight. In fact, Sarah had not seen her for nearly two hours.

Mrs. Fletcher came down the back stairs as Sarah tucked the sewing basket in the bottom shelf of a cupboard. At the same moment, Mr. Penard entered the kitchen through the butler's pantry. He went directly to the annunciator board and pushed the button for the coach house. Karl answered.

“Send Archie in, please.”

“He's gone out,” Karl responded.

“Out? Where? Did Mr. Banning call for a coach?”

“No, sir. The carriages are all here.”

“But Archie is not?”

“No, sir.”

“When he comes in, send him to me immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sarah crossed to the sink to fill a pot with water. “I'll wager he's out talking to those anarchists again.”

“He'd better not be.” Mr. Penard looked around the kitchen. “Where is Charlotte? The child is gone. Shouldn't she be back in the kitchen?”

Sarah chuckled. “Maybe if you find Archie, you'll find Charlotte too. They seem overly friendly, if you ask me.”

Mrs. Fletcher raised a meat cleaver higher than necessary
and whacked it through a pork roast. Sarah jumped when the blade struck wood.

“Mind your own business, Sarah,” the cook said.

“Archie is testing my patience,” Mr. Penard said. “If I discover there is truth to either of Sarah's suggestions, he will find himself seeking another position, and it will not be on Prairie Avenue.”

 24 

I
want everything cleared out before lunch.” Flora Banning stood in the middle of her daughter's suite. “Everything must look exactly as it did when Lucy left. Every book, every picture frame, every pillow. Charlotte, I'm sure you know the details of how Lucy arranged the room.”

“Yes, ma'am.” The three maids lined up against one wall of the anteroom to the suite. Flora's hostility had seemed to fester throughout Monday so that on Tuesday morning, she was on a rampage to rid the mansion of any hint that Emmaline Brewster had ever walked its halls.

“Lina and Sarah, you do exactly as Charlotte says.” Flora crossed the suite to the closet and opened the door. A long line of hooks held gowns in a spectrum of colors and fabrics. She reached in and took a green silk off a hook. “Sarah, why don't you take this one and see if you can make it over to suit you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sarah answered. Charlotte could see the light go on in the girl's eyes.

“In fact,” Flora said, still rummaging among the gowns, “take the brown day dress and the ivory suit as well.” She threw all three garments on the bed. “Mrs. Fletcher tells me you have a talent with the needle. You might as well get some
experience. Perhaps someday I'll ask you to alter one of my gowns. You can practice on these.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Charlotte followed Sarah's salivating gaze to the haphazard mound of expensive fabric on the bed.

Flora swept back toward the door, her lavender satin skirts with navy blue braid rustling furiously. “When you're finished in here, you can close up the nursery again. Just pack everything back the way it was in the attic. Archie or Karl can help you with the heavy things. And if you find that Miss Brewster took anything that does not belong to her, let me know immediately.”

Charlotte had been careful not to pack anything for the baby that belonged to the Bannings. Henry had left only with his beloved quilt and the few items of clothing Emmaline had indulged in during a visit to Marshall Field's store downtown.

Flora stood in the doorway, hands on hips, and surveyed the room one last time. “Perhaps it's time to redecorate in here. Some new William Morris carpets and some fresh swags for the windows. I don't care what Samuel says about the economic depression.”

She pivoted and marched down the hall. The maids listened to her footsteps and looked at one another with eyes wide.

“She truly wants to wipe out Miss Brewster,” Lina said. “I've never seen her like this.”

“She doesn't like to be crossed,” Charlotte said. At that moment, she was grateful she had not disclosed her own secrets to Flora Banning, no matter what Archie said. The severity in Flora's voice confirmed she would not have tolerated a maid with a child even long enough to consider the question.

Sarah scurried across the suite to the bed and lifted the
ivory suit to her face. “These are beautiful! And she gave them to me!”

Charlotte winced. “She's just angry with Miss Brewster. I don't think you should keep the dresses.”

“Of course I'll keep them!”

“But they belong to Miss Brewster.”

“Mrs. Banning said I was to have them. You heard her yourself.”

Charlotte shrugged, refusing to expend further energy on a pointless conversation. Sarah would not change her mind and do the right thing.

“Where shall we begin?” Lina asked.

Charlotte moved to a corner where two steamer trunks sat side by side. “I suppose we will fill the trunks as neatly as we can with the gowns.”

“What about the jewelry?” Lina picked up a pair of earrings and held them to her own ears in front of the mirror.

“I'll wrap everything in velvet, and we'll tuck it in among the gowns.”

“It might be stolen,” Lina said.

“It's probably paste anyway,” Sarah said.

Charlotte exhaled. “It's not paste. The trunks must have keys. We can inquire about mailing the keys to Miss Brewster directly so she will have them when the trunks arrive.”

Sarah scoffed. “Mrs. Banning did not seem in a frame of mind to make things easier for Miss Brewster.”

“Mr. Penard will have the address,” Charlotte said. “We don't have to trouble Mrs. Banning. Lina, help me with this trunk.”

Together they scooted a Chinese hardwood trunk out to the middle of the room and unfastened the leather straps and silver buckles to open it wide.

“Let's start with the full-skirted gowns first,” Charlotte suggested, “and arrange them in the bottom.”

“How in the world did she ever get all these gowns in two trunks?” Lina took a blue silk gown with gold beaded trim and held it in front of herself before the mirror. “I can't even imagine wearing something so beautiful.”

“I won't have to imagine much longer,” Sarah gloated. “Even the brown day dress is exquisite. Look how exact the pleats are, and the fabric is so sturdy without being heavy.”

Lina chuckled. “Where will you wear a dress like that?”

“On my days out.”

“These are too fancy. I like the dresses Miss Lucy wears,” Lina said. “They're practical without being frumpy, stylish but you can still move in them.”

“She likes to be able to move freely at the orphanage,” Charlotte said. “She is not one to have nine yards of fabric getting in the way of every step.”

Lina folded in the wide skirts of the blue silk and laid it in the bottom of the open trunk. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to visit Paris and see the fashions for yourself?”

“Paris?” Charlotte wrapped a set of earrings.

“I love the fashions from Paris.” Sarah put down the ivory gown and picked up both the green dress and the brown one. “I'll certainly visit someday.”

“Sarah, start helping,” Charlotte said. “You haven't done a thing to pack the dresses.”

Sarah grunted but released the day dress.

“At least Charlotte has her letter.” Lina leaned into the trunk and smoothed the copper dress.

Charlotte froze with a strand of pearls in one hand and a velvet cloth in the other. “What letter?”

“It was weeks ago. I left it on the tray in the kitchen with the other mail.”

Charlotte forced herself to swallow. “You gave me a letter you said did not come in the mail.”

“I remember—the man in the street who had your name wrong. This was the same day, but it was a real letter. It had a foreign postmark and everything. It was from Paris.”

Charlotte's chest tightened.

Sarah turned her back to the other maids and clutched the green silk against her form in clenched fists. It had not occurred to her that of course someone else would have seen that letter—someone must have placed the mail on the silver tray on the table. Her eyes darted around the room as she listened to the exchange between Charlotte and Lina. No one knew she had seen the letter. No one could prove anything. Sarah put the gown down and turned to the closet, choosing a pale yellow chiffon to fold and place in the trunk.

“Think, Lina,” Charlotte said, “did you see what happened to the mail that day?”

Lina shook her head. “I put it on the tray as usual. I only remember because I thought how odd it was that you got two letters in one day, and I don't ever remember you getting even one letter before.”

Curiosity about the second letter almost did Sarah in, but she pulled herself from the brink of asking. She had to divert attention. “Perhaps you're confused. Anyway, it can't have been important. That was weeks ago.”

“It was clearly addressed to Miss Charlotte Farrow,” Lina said. “No one could mistake it.”

Charlotte slowly wrapped the pearls in the blue velvet cloth. “The only other explanation is that someone took my letter.”

“Who would do that?” Lina asked. “Mr. Penard fancies himself in charge of everything, but even he would not take a letter addressed to someone else.”

Sarah stuffed the yellow gown in the trunk and retreated to the closet for another. She took both pieces of a peach-colored broadcloth walking suit off their hooks.

“Are you sure all of these dresses came out of just two trunks?” Sarah said. “I don't see how there will be room for the hats.” She plucked a peach velvet hat off the closet shelf and waved it.

“What happened to my letter?” Charlotte pressed Lina.

“Misplaced in the kitchen, perhaps?” Lina suggested.

“Did Miss Brewster bring any hatboxes?” Sarah held the suit in one hand and with the other cocked the peach hat on her head. In her peripheral vision, Charlotte sat on the edge of the open trunk. Sarah's pulse pounded.

“We clean that kitchen from top to bottom every day,” Charlotte said. “Someone would have found a letter long before now. Are you sure you didn't notice anyone else looking at the mail that day?”

“I don't pay attention after I collect the mail.” Lina folded a linen jacket and nudged Charlotte off the trunk. “I just put it on the tray for Mr. Penard.”

“Maybe it was thrown away by mistake.” Sarah pressed her lips together. That was almost the truth.

Lina gasped at the suggestion. “Mr. Penard would never make such a mistake!”

“Then the letter must be in the house somewhere.” Charlotte raised her fingers to her temples.

“Perhaps if we let the rest of the staff know it's missing,” Lina said, “someone will remember.”

“I could ask Mr. Penard to inquire,” Charlotte mused. “If a mistake has happened, he would want to know in order to prevent it in the future.”

Sarah's hands went slippery with sweat. “I hardly think that's necessary.”

“It wouldn't do for me to be asking questions.” Charlotte fingered the edge of her apron.

“Then don't,” Sarah said.

“But suppose a piece of the Bannings' mail went missing.”

“If it's important, Lucy will write you another letter from that fancy hotel.” As soon as she spoke the words, Sarah winced.

Charlotte marched across the room and spun Sarah around. “You saw the letter!”

“You're right,” Lina said. “I remember now. The return address was a hotel.”

Sarah shrank from Charlotte's face.

“Sarah Cummings,” Charlotte said through gritted teeth, “you tell me this instant what you know about that letter.”

Sarah bent at the waist and ducked past Charlotte. She cast the broadcloth suit and its hat into the trunk. “All right. I admit it. I saw it!”

Charlotte and Lina stared at her wide-eyed.