Band of Sisters (41 page)

“Mornin’ coat, afternoon coat, evenin’ dress, cuff links for this, and cuff links for that! Brush this and polish that—I’ll never remember this la-di-da!” Joshua slapped the pair of gentleman’s riding gloves across his thigh.

“You will if you pay heed, Mr. Keeton. It takes a bit of practice and a great deal of patience,” Evans, Curtis Morrow’s manservant, responded to his unruly pupil. “The practice you may achieve by repetition, but patience is a matter of character gained by choice.”

Joshua caught Maureen’s smile behind her hand. “It’s all well and good for you, Maureen O’Reilly. You’ve had years of chamber and lady’s maid trainin’ at Lady Catherine’s knee! This is worse than Greek and Latin to me!”

“Well,” Maureen taunted coyly, “I can’t imagine what you’re complainin’ about. You’ve had all of an hour to learn the ways of a gentleman’s gentleman. But if it’s really too much, then I suppose I could ask Mr. Morrow to find himself another to play the role of manservant, and me another protector for his scheme.”

Nothing could have given Joshua greater pause. He squared his shoulders and raised his eyes. Then he breathed deeply, gave Evans a curt, apologetic bow, and humbly asked, “Would you kindly repeat the process, Mr. Evans?”

“Evans will do for me, as Keeton will for you.” The older man smiled, and Joshua was certain he winked at Maureen. “Now, let us begin once more with the morning coat.”

Throughout the next week Maureen and Joshua absorbed the instructions Curtis had detailed in his letter before leaving town. Over and over, hour after hour, in the sanctuary of Curtis’s home, they trained and rehearsed until they knew backward and forward their responses to any summons or question concerning their roles. Never had anything so taxed or intrigued Maureen’s imagination, and never had her brain felt so agile, so alive.

She was fitted with the tailored uniform of a wealthy American employer’s private chambermaid and all the shoes and cloaks and trappings, as well as all the history such a woman might possess, just as Joshua was properly outfitted for his role. Her hair was combed and twisted and clucked over by Madame Sevier, a stout Frenchwoman of few words and many mumbles from a local theater company—and a woman whom Curtis evidently trusted. After making several notes, she slipped away, leaving Maureen less easy in spirit.

“You don’t think he’s plannin’ to have that woman cut your hair, do you?” Joshua asked.

“I don’t know,” Maureen admitted. “I’ve no idea what he’s thinkin’.”

“’Twould be a shame, that.” He reached a finger to catch a wayward tendril. When their eyes met, he dropped it and pulled back. “But whatever makes you safest, that’s what’s needed.”

By the end of the week, she was confident in her duties, and Joshua, a quicker study than she’d realized, became fairly adept in his role as gentleman’s gentleman. He mastered the details of valet with ease, along with the peculiarities of table settings, table service, and the expected seating for everything from intimate dinners to banquets. He could pass as a well-established butler. Only the vast array of cigars, wines, liqueurs, and brandies he might be expected to offer guests confounded him.

But Maureen knew, from her intense discussions with Joshua over pots of tea gone cold, and her own intuition, that each lesson must be so thoroughly absorbed that they could perform their duties in their sleep. She knew, too, that their hours of lighthearted jest and the growing camaraderie between them could not last.

On Friday evening, just before Joshua was to accompany her back to Morningside, a hastily scribbled note from Curtis arrived.

“He says we’re to be ready by ten on Monday, packed and prepared to be gone a week, though it won’t be any longer than absolutely necessary. He’ll explain everything in person, Monday mornin’.” Joshua spoke the words without emotion, but Maureen sensed his anxiety. “He says to make certain we’re both seen in church on Sunday—to sit in the balcony with Mrs. Melkford. He’ll be there, but we should in no way recognize him. He expects Drake to be there as well.”

Neither spoke during the drive toward Morningside, though Maureen felt as if she could hear all their mental wheels spinning.

“We’ve been prepared for a purpose,” Joshua whispered as he helped her from the car parked three blocks from the Wakefield mansion. He took her arm to walk the last blocks through back streets, careful they not be seen. “I don’t know what it is we’ll be doin’ exactly, but my instincts say it won’t be safe nor easy.”

When have I been truly safe? When has life been easy?

He pulled her arm more surely through his own as they walked, a protection she leaned into, craving the warmth and solidity of his presence.

“I wish—I almost wish I’d not brought you into this, except for these days we’ve shared.” His fingers tightened over hers. “I swear I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but I don’t know what is to come.”

She squeezed his hand. “I know you’ll do your best, Joshua Keeton. And I’ll do mine.”
And I would not trade these days for anythin’. You’ve been spring to me, carin’ for me, respectin’ me, doin’ all in your power to prepare me for whatever lies ahead.

They reached the back gate of Morningside, an entrance shrouded by an old holly weighted down in berries. In the darkness, beneath a three-quarter and faintly ringed moon, Joshua’s finger lifted her chin. Tentatively, his lips touched hers.

Maureen’s heart trilled and swelled. She stepped back in surprise, as much at her inner response as at his touch. Joshua did not pursue her but briefly raised her gloved fingers to his lips, to his cheek. He bowed, the gentleman he’d become.
The gentleman he’s always been.

Katie Rose dropped the edge of her bedroom window drapery, letting it fall into place. A tear slipped down her cheek. Though it had been dark, her vision faint, she’d seen enough.

“Katie Rose has not come down to breakfast?” Maureen asked Saturday morning, late though she was.

“Grayson said she left early for the factory and told Cook not to expect her for the evening meal.” Olivia frowned. “She asked Grayson to tell me that she won’t be attending the Ladies’ Circle this afternoon.”

“It’s not like her to miss a good meal. Did she say why so early or so late?”

Olivia shook her head. “She said nothing to you last night?”

“No, but I was late comin’ in. Her light was off.” Maureen opened her napkin. “Did she ask for me?”

“She wondered where you were at dinner. I told her you were working and that your hours were uncertain.” Olivia colored slightly. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

Maureen sat back, smoothed her napkin in her lap, and tried to view Olivia’s words as her sister might. But she realized she knew exactly what Katie Rose would think of her “working” late hours.
At least she’s trailed by someone who will see that she’s safe. Curtis made certain of that.

“Maureen?” Olivia sounded hesitant.

Maureen wearily lifted her eyes, wondering if she was looking for trouble where there was none or if she should go to the factory and ask Katie Rose directly what she was up to, where she went so early, and why she would return so late.
It’s so hard to know with her.
“Yes?”

“Curtis has asked me not to question the work he’s having you do—at least not for the time being.”

“’Tis for the best, he said. For Joshua and for me.” Maureen sat a little straighter. It felt good to link their names together.

“Yes, I understand . . . at least I’m trying to understand.” Olivia appeared distressed, something that registered so foreign in her character that it captured Maureen’s full attention. Olivia blushed. “I’m afraid this sounds . . . exactly what it is, but I must ask.”

“Ask me anythin’. I’ll tell you if I can.”

“I just wonder, do you . . . love him?” Olivia looked to Maureen as though the asking had sentenced her to face a firing squad.

So unexpected was the question that Maureen could not control the unbidden rise of heat from her core to her hairline, the rush through her limbs. “Love him? No, of course not.”
Does my turmoil show so clearly? If Olivia suspects, does Katie Rose? How could she when we’ve barely spoken a civil word since I moved in? But does Olivia think I’m betrayin’ my sister’s heart? Katie Rose is still a child!
“No—I don’t think so.” She remembered the warm flush of happiness as Joshua kissed her the night before and felt the sudden rush once more. “But how can I know?” she said aloud in contemplation.

The anguish in Olivia’s eyes confused Maureen.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Maureen held her breath, wondering what it was she could not see, was too blind to see.

Olivia’s forced smile unsettled her more. “No. No, of course not. Love between two people who care for and respect each other is . . . is wonderful.” And yet her face looked anything but wonderful to Maureen.

Mrs. Melkford was delighted to have Maureen and Katie Rose join her on her walk to church Sunday morning, though it took less than a moment to realize that all was not well between the sisters. She looped Katie Rose’s arm.

“I’ve seen far too little of you girls since you moved in with Miss Wakefield, though I suspect that’s as it should be. I’m delighted you’re there, safe and sound and well fed. You must enjoy lively evenings all together.”