Crown of Beauty Page 6

  “Lily came to our home in a very sad state. My parents were returning from an evening at a friend’s home, a ball, if I remember correctly. It’s been so long . . . and the carriage stopped abruptly in the street. There was a bit of a fuss so my father stepped out and found a child, no older than his own, in a bundle of rags nearly underneath the carriage wheel. She was alone and disoriented, so he picked her up, much to his footman’s chagrin, and brought her into the carriage.”

  Catherine sat down on the sofa without thinking. Lillian as a child in the street? Lillian who never spoke out of turn, who kept her eyes on Catherine’s mother at every moment her mother was within her sight? Lillian who kept her words and thoughts to herself, but who Catherine was sure judged her and her sister harshly for their failures, just as their mother did?

  “Inquiries were made for weeks until it was determined that no one would claim the little girl, who had been washed and fed in our home, and Lily herself had no words to share about her parents, her predicament . . . she would say nothing to anyone, until she was allowed to play with me.”

  Catherine saw Annie peek around the corner, and shooed her away with a small move of her hand. This was intensely personal, and while Annie didn’t gossip that Catherine could tell, she didn’t want anyone speaking of this. Then again, the servants had their own social network between them, and perhaps they knew more about Lillian than Catherine did already.

  “The family physician didn’t want me to have contact with her until he was sure she didn’t have any contagious illnesses, or any behaviors that might be a poor influence.”

  Her mother wrapped her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands over her upper arms as if to ward off a chill. The light caught a movement in a corner by the stairs, and Catherine thought that Lillian herself might be there, waiting, as always, to meet any need her mother might have.

  “I was small for my age but Lily,” she shook her head slightly. “Lily was like one of my dolls, so pale and tiny, and when we first met I was afraid I would break her if I touched her in any way. But she was sturdier than she looked, and when I asked her if she wanted to play with me, she nodded, and that was that.”

  Her mother turned to look at Catherine again, lifting her chin.

  “I understand that Arthur’s shelter deals primarily with men, but there are women and children as well, families, in fact, and perhaps you might keep Lillian in mind when you do encounter them. It has been decades, obviously, since my parents brought Lily home with them, but I won’t ever forget the state she was in.”

  Catherine remained in a stunned silence, unsure what she could possibly expect her mother to say next.

  “And while you are being kind and attentive to mothers and children who are in need of charity, you will remember that it is the luck of your birth that keeps you from the same condition. The same luck of your birth that makes you eligible for the fine match your father and I have made for you, one you don’t seem to appreciate.”

  Catherine began to shake her head. Of course she appreciated everything, although she may have taken it for granted, but refusing to marry a man she hardly knew had nothing to do with that.

  “Don’t shake your head at me. Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over you. I expect trouble from your sister, and that is enough for me to manage. After Arthur . . . well, I do like Josie, but it’s still a bit of a shock. I would rather not have to deal with any more difficulties when it comes to these matters.”

  “But Mother . . .”

  “Go and ready yourself, as I’m sure Arthur will want to leave soon. Mind that you remember all that I’ve said, and maybe something good will come of this. I certainly don’t think your father would send you into a dangerous situation, but sometimes I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

  Before Catherine could speak again, her mother turned away and walked towards the stairs, and Catherine saw that Lillian had indeed been waiting. The two women walked nearly side by side up the stairs, and Catherine was sure she saw her mother turn her head slightly towards Lillian and smile the smallest bit, causing Lillian to look down, but with a smile on her own face as well.

  She heard movement behind her and knew that Annie was waiting. Sighing, she brushed her hands down the front of her dress and wondered what she could possibly wear that wouldn’t stand out at First Steps. She was pleased with herself for remembering the name, although she heard it so much from Arthur and Josie that she would be surprised if she had forgotten it.

  “I hope you have a dress in mind, because I don’t have the faintest idea.”

  Annie smiled as Catherine turned to face her, nodding her head.

  “Your mother knew exactly, and we’ll have you ready in no time at all. And thank you, Miss Catherine, for keeping me. I heard that Mrs. Davenport offered to replace me, and that you refused. Thank you, miss.”

  An overwhelming urge to hug the girl almost made Catherine do just that. How in the world had such talk spread so fast, and did Annie really think she could lose her position so easily?

  “We get on just fine, and I’m happy to have you here to help me. I hope you’re happy here, too, Annie.”

  Annie’s mouth fell open and Catherine wondered at her surprise. Had Catherine really never said any words of appreciation to her before? Anything beyond the usual thanks for every day assistance now and again? As Catherine walked towards the stairs, Annie a step behind, she silently asked God to help her to remember to do so more in the future. She wondered if He was listening, as Josie said, and if she would know, somehow, when and if He did.

  Chapter Nine

  Arthur had spent only a few minutes getting Catherine settled, as he called it, and then he spent some time in the waiting area, which was where those who came to the shelter for help could sit and rest, gather their thoughts, and have something to eat. Not a proper meal, usually a sandwich, cookies, perhaps, something to hold them over while they awaited their turn to speak with Arthur, Josie, or the others who assisted them. Catherine could see that her brother was very well organized, and had a desk in an open area in the corner where he kept stacks of papers and files and she couldn’t imagine what else. He moved briskly, smiling at men and women of varying ages who seemed to understand their tasks, unlike her. Everyone was so busy, and she hoped she would just be able to stay out of their way.

  “Oh, miss, you must be Mr. Arthur’s sister.”

  An older woman who looked like someone soft and sweet from a children’s book was at her elbow, and Catherine jumped in surprise. She smiled, or at least she thought she did, and was worried that it was more of a grimace in its execution.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m Catherine. Maybe you can direct me as to what I should do. I really have no idea.”

  She shrugged just as the woman grabbed her elbow, and she wondered if everyone here was going to be this familiar. She hoped not; she wasn’t used to all this touching, and she certainly didn’t like it from strangers, even if this one looked like someone’s kindly grandmother. Still, she tried to remain polite and kept working on the smile that she hoped was becoming more believable as she waited for the woman’s response.

  “I’m thinking he won’t want you out front. Such a pretty thing you are, and we can’t have the gentlemen staring. I think we’ll do just fine together in the kitchen.”

  The kitchen. As if she had any idea what to do in there. Did Arthur have something he expected her to do? Of course, she considered, looking down at the well-worn wooden floor, Arthur hadn’t been given much notice that he was expected to bring her there today, so he wouldn’t have had much time to plan or to think of where she might be helpful. Regardless of her feelings about being forced to spend time at the shelter, she really didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t contribute. She could probably hide in a corner somewhere, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good, and if she was busy, the time would pass more quickly. She sighed.

  “Come along, then. I’m sure you can help with baking cookies, can’t you?
All little girls love to bake cookies.”

  As if her mother would have ever allowed her and Sarah to get hot and messy in the kitchen with Cook, although Cook would have loved it. The woman in the position as she was growing up was always laughing about something, always pleasant, and always interacting with the girls. Catherine felt her smile slip away as she thought of the woman now, remembering that she had left because someone in her family was ill and she had to care for them. How horrible I am, she chastised herself as she let the woman guide her into the kitchen, a small space outfitted with a small cast-iron stove and oven, and thankfully, a sink with running water. Not all homes had indoor plumbing, so Catherine hadn’t been sure what to expect in this building. Why couldn’t she remember who it was that Cook had left to nurse? Worse yet, she realized that she didn’t even know the cook’s name. They just called her Cook, same as the person who currently occupied the position.

  “Are you sick, miss? Shall I find your brother?”

  She shook her head quickly and took a deep breath. This wasn’t so bad, being here, and her guilt over past governesses and cooks was weighing on her. She might feel better if she had something to do with helping a stranger today. Of course, she had to think of this in terms of herself, which she could see all too well was part of her problem. Perhaps her father was right in sending her here, but she was already beginning to feel badly when she couldn’t recall what happened to the governess who revealed her father’s pet name for her mother. She still couldn’t imagine anyone calling her no-nonsense mother something adorable and simple like Jenny.

  “No, no, I’m fine. I’d be happy to help, but I will admit that I have no experience.”

  The woman’s brow creased and she squinted at Catherine.

  “Baking cookies? Really?”

  Catherine bit her lip and nodded. This woman probably taught her daughters and granddaughters how to bake, with hours of laughter and love spent together making joyful memories.

  “May I ask your name, Mrs.?”

  The woman patted her arm and stepped back.

  “Now, that really is of no account to someone like you, but since you ask, it’s Harper. Mrs. Harper. But you can call me Grace. Everyone does.”

  Catherine smiled on a sigh, feeling a great weight release from her. She knew her guide’s name now, and she wouldn’t forget.

  “My sister’s middle name is Grace. It’s lovely. I’m pleased to meet you, Grace.”

  “Such a sweet girl you are. Fine manners, too. It’s a wonder you’ve yet to marry, but it’s none of my business and I’m sure the young men are just waiting to court you. Now, let’s get started. We’ll be busy with hungry men and most likely a few families in a bit, so there’s no time to waste.”

  Will wondered how long he would have to drink before everything just went away, maybe for good. He didn’t see a way out, not after what his father had done, not after everything he had lost. He knew so little about this business and investments, although he should have known more at his age, should have paid more attention when his father begged him to spend time with him and his colleagues. What could he possibly do now, other than become a burden to his uncle, who had to know how to handle the situation better than Will ever could?

  He knew that someone had to have reported his behavior to his uncle already, so roaming around the streets of Manhattan to sober up wasn’t exactly risking anything. A part of him wanted keep walking until he stepped in the water on one end of the island or another, washing the fear and shame away along with his life. Would anyone miss him? His mother used to speak of a God who was loving and forgiving, but Will wasn’t sure if that God of hers was real, for if he was, why did he leave Will parentless and penniless, with no chance to retrieve the life he’d had only a few months ago?

  “Watch where you’re going, buddy!”

  Someone jostled him roughly, as if he’d been running, but Will couldn’t say he was aware that the man was anywhere close to him until he felt the push and heard the reprimand. Just as quickly, he felt his wallet snatched from his pocket, the watch and chain yanked but the attachment to his belt loop unbreakable. He kept walking in spite of the theft, the footsteps of both parties to the crime echoing behind him.

  The rain crept up on him slowly, before he was even aware that the weather had changed from clear and cool to bright and stormy. Those sort of storms were the most frightening, as the sun strove through fluffy clouds just as thunder roared from above, the heavens dropping bucketsful of warm rain over the city. The dark, dreary ones made more sense to Will, as it was an all-encompassing, depressing spectacle. The shining light bearing down on him while he was being drenched to the bone felt duplicitous, and he couldn’t trust which way the weather would turn next. He couldn’t focus on what to do next with his life, never mind manage it in this melee of rain, he thought with a sigh. A memory almost like a photograph snapped into his thoughts, the short but restful few days he, his uncle, and father spent in Newport the summer before last, before it all happened. Before everything went wrong.

  There was a cool breeze over the ocean as the three of them, along with some of his father’s and uncle’s business partners, lazed about on a yacht among a fleet of other boats of varying sizes and styles in the harbor. Will had closed his eyes, his head tilted back to soak up the gentle rays of the sun, and paid little attention to the older men’s voices, although he should have as the sole heir to both his father and uncle, and as such, expected to participate in the business. It seemed far away, and as always, unwanted, so he ignored the chatter and focused on the seagulls’ cries and the warmth of the sea air. Whenever he deigned to open his eyes and glance carelessly around, there were pretty girls in flowing dresses walking along the coast, or resting on other boats, sometimes catching his eye and offering a smile, bold or shy depending on the girl. He liked girls, of course, and didn’t mind smiling back, but at his age they were all looking for a husband, and he certainly wasn’t ready for that or anything that it entailed, primarily, responsibility.

  Responsibility. The word and the idea washed over him like the flush of rain that woke him from his daydream. He noticed a few others on the street rushing by, either hiding below umbrellas or clutching the collars of their coats against their necks to ward off the weather. Maybe there was a boat he could catch to take him to Newport, and he could take some time away from everything, perhaps to clear his head and figure out what to do. His uncle wouldn’t know where he was, and Will didn’t think anyone was following him, especially in this weather, who would track him and report back to his only living relative about his actions. Soon, he thought, his uncle would give up on him and leave him be, leave him to do whatever he could manage to survive rather than continue to attempt to bring him back into the fold only to watch him tarnish the family name and business again and again through his drunkenness and refusal to live up to expectations. So many expectations.

  Will kept walking, just as the streets emptied and the rain continued to discourage everyone else from stepping out. His feet moved almost without thought, bringing him to the river as his thoughts drifted back to that early summer afternoon when he was still protected from distant and unheard of troubles.

  Catherine had never spent so much time out of her own home without her gloves on.

  It was a strange thought, she considered, smiling as she looked at her hands. They were dusty with flour, as were her arms and dress in spite of the apron Grace had given her hours and hours ago. She was damp with sweat from the oven as well as the constant movement from the day’s work. There was only a small window that let in little light, so she wasn’t sure what time it was but knew it was getting on because the light had faded from that square as it had rained and even thundered quickly and briefly. She could still hear the patter of rain on the roof, gentler now as the day must have been coming to a close. Still, she knew that the shelter kept its doors open all day and night, never closing, with volunteers staying in the building in case anyone need
ed assistance.

  Arthur had looked in just once since he had left her in Grace’s charge, asking how she was, and if she, or Grace, needed anything.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Arthur, we’re getting on just fine. Thank you just the same.”

  Her brother offered Catherine the flash of a smile before disappearing, as Grace beamed at him, then turned her face to Catherine. She was rolling out a new batch of dough for sugar cookies, ones for Catherine to cut into shapes before baking. Grace had little metal forms that showed Catherine how to press into the sheet of dough, and Catherine was amused at how much she enjoyed the simple process. She wondered who would eat the cookies, and who was already eating the bread the two of them had been baking a good part of the afternoon. The cookies that had comprised her first baking lesson were long gone, Grace assured her, most likely offered to some of the helpers who fetched donations from different businesses in town as well as individuals who had agreed to leave items on their doorstep to be gathered and brought in.

  “Your brother has quite a way with getting folks to share what they have, whether they have much or little. He won’t take no for an answer from those on your side of town, you know. There’s quite a few of us willing to help, but we don’t have anything to give save a few outgrown clothes or maybe a blanket or something small. Those neighbors of yours, though. What Mr. Arthur has been able to bring in from them is why we have anything to give those who come knocking. Although I don’t know what to do with so many gowns that have been handed over. Most of the women and girls who come here aren’t in the way of wearing such finery.”

  Catherine jumped when a crash of thunder roared overhead, as if the entire building would come tumbling down. Grace looked up at the ceiling, as if she could see through it to what was happening in the sky.