In the Company of Secrets (17 page)
Then he saw her. In reality, he first saw Mr. Howard, but his focus immediately shifted to Olivia. She was wearing a gown of pale blue silk with puffed sleeves, and narrow blue ribbons were woven into her hair. He inhaled a shaky breath—she looked beautiful. He wanted to look away. He tried to look away. But his gaze remained fixed upon her.
‘‘Amazing that a chef ’s assistant could afford such a gown, isn’t it?’’
Mildred’s comment shook Fred from his trancelike state. ‘‘I believe she probably borrowed it from Mrs. Hornsby.’’
‘‘Mrs. Hornsby?’’
‘‘The widow who resides with Olivia,’’ he explained.
‘‘Oh yes. I’ve seen her with Olivia from time to time. She’s expecting a child, isn’t she? I believe I heard she’s a widow.’’
Fred nodded and watched Olivia walk up the stairs holding on to Mr. Howard’s arm. The town gossips likely knew everything about Charlotte Hornsby except her name.
Mildred tugged on his arm and motioned toward the stairs. ‘‘Shall we go up and take our seats?’’
They followed a group of attendees, most with tickets admitting them to the main floor. Several of the supervisors and their wives walked toward the inner stairway of the theater that led to the boxed seating. While the usher directed Fred and Mildred down the aisle, Fred tried to covertly scan each of the elegantly decorated boxes that projected along the east and west walls of the theater. His breath caught when he spotted Olivia and Mr. Howard. The city agent held Olivia’s waist in a possessive grasp while he pointed at the beautifully adorned stage. Fred inwardly cringed when he saw her laugh in response. She obviously was enjoying Mr. Howard’s attention.
Fred imagined the man’s ploys to hold Olivia’s attention. He was probably reinforcing her perceptions of Mr. Pullman as a grand philanthropist while he expounded on the theater’s exceptional features.
Disheartened, Fred slouched in his red leather–upholstered seat and stared at the huge chandelier that hung from the center of the fresco-painted ceiling.
Mildred leaned closer and pointed upward. ‘‘Look, Fred. There’s Olivia with Mr. Howard.’’
Before he could stop her, Mildred stood and waved. ‘‘Oh, look. She and Mr. Howard have spotted us. Olivia is signaling with her handkerchief.’’ She grabbed for his arm and tugged until he stood up. ‘‘Wave at them, Fred.’’
He halfheartedly signaled and quickly settled back in his chair. ‘‘Do sit down, Mildred.’’
While preparing for bed after last night’s band concert, Olivia had discovered a note propped on her pillow with brief instructions from Charlotte that she was not to be awakened for church the next morning. She did not plan to attend. Although Olivia shouldn’t be pleased by such an announcement, she sighed with relief. She didn’t want to begin the day explaining her lack of interest in Mr. Howard’s advances, and there was little doubt Charlotte would insist upon a detailed report of the previous evening’s activities.
Olivia quietly departed, thankful Charlotte hadn’t stirred. Later in the day, she’d be better equipped to deal with the woman. And, if all went well today, Fred would ask her to remain after church services and join them for the noonday meal. She set off for the DeVaults’ with a spring in her step— until thoughts of Mildred Malloy returned. What if Fred planned to escort Mildred to church today? She slowed her gait. Had she seen Mildred at church in the past? While she knew several other hotel employees regularly attended, Olivia didn’t recall seeing the hotel maid there. She could only hope the young woman attended one of the churches in Kensington or Roseland rather than Greenstone in Pullman.
She was half a block from the DeVaults’ when she saw Martha, Albert, Fred, and his mother walking down the front steps. She waved and called to them. Certainly very unladylike behavior, but they were departing without her. She hastened her speed. Martha and Albert waited, but Fred continued onward with his mother by his side.
‘‘Why were you leaving without me?’’ She gasped for air between each word.
‘‘Catch your breath, Olivia.’’ Martha rubbed her back like a worried mother. ‘‘After seeing you in that fine box at the concert last night, Fred said you’d surely be attending church with Mr. Howard this morning.’’
Olivia’s stomach lurched at the remark. Why would Fred draw such a silly conclusion? Did he think her attentions could be so easily swayed? They hurried along and were soon closely following behind Fred and his mother.
‘‘Good morning, dear.’’ Mrs. DeVault glanced over her shoulder and offered a bright smile to accompany her chirpy greeting. Fred did neither.
Tilting her head close to Martha, Olivia whispered, ‘‘Is Mildred meeting Fred at church?’’
Martha shook her head. ‘‘No. She attends over in Kensington. Besides, I don’t think he asked her. Are you troubled because he escorted her to the concert last night?’’
‘‘Well, of course. Wouldn’t you be worried, too?’’
‘‘I don’t think he’s fond of Mildred, but he didn’t want his extra ticket going to waste. I suggested he give it to Luther Hughes, but I think he planned to fire some jealousy in your soul.’’ She grinned. ‘‘Looks as though he succeeded.’’
Olivia tried her best to finagle a seat next to Fred, but it seemed as though he did everything possible to make her attempts futile. When all was said and done, Olivia was squished between Mrs. DeVault and Mrs. Verdon, a large woman who continually expanded her seating space throughout the service. By the time they stood for the benediction, the width of Olivia’s pew space had decreased to no more than twelve inches. She’d listened to the sermon while seated on her left hip with her arms wrapped around her waist and Mrs. Verdon’s feathered hat tickling her neck. She hoped to never repeat
that
experience again!
‘‘Would you like to join us for dinner, Olivia?’’ Mrs. DeVault’s offer was a welcome respite after more than an hour of pain and suffering beside Mrs. Verdon.
‘‘I’d be de—’’
‘‘I’m certain she has other plans, Mother. It appears that Mr. Howard is heading in her direction.’’
Why had Fred been so quick to interrupt her acceptance? Perhaps Martha didn’t know the depth of his feelings for Mildred. Had he planned to spend the afternoon in Mildred’s company?
‘‘I have no plans with Mr. Howard or anyone else, Mrs. DeVault. I’d be most pleased to join you.’’ She turned to Fred. ‘‘However, if you and Mildred have arrangements to see each other this afternoon, don’t let my acceptance interfere.’’
Fred glanced over his shoulder as he escorted his mother out of the pew. ‘‘We’ll see if you come to dinner once Mr. Howard makes you an offer for an afternoon outing.’’
Before she could respond, Mr. Howard drew near and clasped her waist in an unforeseen and proprietary manner. Olivia twisted from his hold as Mrs. Verdon lumbered out of the pew and into the aisle.
‘‘I thought you might join me for the afternoon. I’ve arranged for a picnic lunch and rented a rowboat. I thought you would enjoy a surprise outing, so I didn’t mention my idea last evening.’’
His assumption she would agree astonished her, especially after she’d turned down his invitation to attend church with him. ‘‘I’m sorry, Mr. Howard. I have previous arrangements. If you’ll forgive me, I must hurry and join my friends.’’
‘‘Next Sunday, then. I’ll take care of everything.’’ He made his way around Mrs. Verdon without waiting for Olivia’s reply.
The man was certainly persistent. She would send him a note of refusal in the morning.
A piercing scream shattered the still warmth of the August night, and Olivia sat up in her bed with a start. Had she suffered another nightmare? Her heart wasn’t racing, but she remained convinced a scream had wakened her. She sat on the edge of the bed and strained to listen. Had the shriek come from the park down the street or from a nearby house? Perhaps she was once again overreacting.
Since Eddie’s discharge from the hotel, she had grown fearful and with good cause. Unlike Georgie, Eddie hadn’t been offered another position with the company. Instead, he’d been banned from the town of Pullman. But before making his final departure, he’d caught Olivia outside the hotel and issued an ominous warning that she’d be sorry she ever got involved.
Olivia had been unable to forget his menacing words:
‘‘Just
about the time you think I’m out of your life, you’ll find out different,
Miss
Olivia Mott.’’
With a dark look, he had angrily spewed forth the words at her. There was no doubt in her mind that Eddie Calhoun was a young man to be reckoned with.
A shiver coursed through her as another shrill scream sliced through the silence. It was coming from the next room.
Charlotte!
Shoving her feet into the worn slippers at her bedside, Olivia hastened to the room next door. Without knocking, she hurriedly entered.
Charlotte reached out and clutched Olivia’s hand in a painful grip. ‘‘It’s time. The baby is coming.’’
Using her free hand, Olivia brushed several strands of matted hair from Charlotte’s forehead. Although the baby wasn’t expected until next month, Olivia didn’t argue. There was little doubt her ladyship was in labor. ‘‘Turn loose of my hand, Charlotte. I’ll dress quickly and go fetch Mrs. DeVault.’’
The whites of Charlotte’s eyes glistened in the starlit room. ‘‘Don’t leave me, Olivia. I don’t want to die in this house by myself!’’
‘‘You’re not going to die; you’re having a baby.’’ Olivia attempted to wrest her hand free. ‘‘Let go of me so I can fetch proper help.’’
‘‘No!’’ Charlotte tightened her grip, her fingernails now digging into Olivia’s flesh. ‘‘
You
can deliver the baby.’’
If Charlotte didn’t soon loosen her hold, Olivia would be in need of medical attention herself. ‘‘I’ve never delivered a baby. Let me go next door and see if Mr. Rice will go and fetch Mrs. DeVault.’’
‘‘Promise you’ll come right back. Don’t go after her yourself.’’ Panic clung to each word. ‘‘Promise!’’
‘‘I promise. No doubt you’ve already wakened them with all of your shouting.’’ After wrenching her hand loose, Olivia didn’t take time to dress. She grabbed Charlotte’s wrapper from the foot of the bed and tied the robe around her waist as she went onto the porch and pounded on the neighbors’ door. She didn’t have to wait long for Mr. Rice to appear, his thin dark hair in complete disarray.
Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he opened the door. ‘‘What’s all the racket going on over there? Them screams could wake the dead.’’
‘‘Mrs. Hornsby needs the midwife, and she’s afraid for me to leave her. Could you go fetch Mrs. DeVault, please?’’
‘‘I s’pose I might just as well. Ain’t gonna be able to get no sleep if she’s gonna be hollering the rest of the night.’’ He waved her away from the door. ‘‘Lemme get my shoes on, and I’ll go fetch her. And tell Mrs. Hornsby to try keepin’ it down a bit. Some of us got to work come morning.’’
Instead of offering a snappish rejoinder, Olivia clamped her lips together. She needed Mr. Rice’s help more than she needed to vent her anger at the man. ‘‘Thank you for your willingness to help. I’ll be certain to mention your need for sleep to Mrs. Hornsby.’’
Charlotte delivered another screaming cry that sent Mr. Rice scurrying inside to locate his shoes and Olivia back to their house. She would offer a few soothing words and then set some water to boil. Although she didn’t know why, the few times she’d been at hand when a baby was born, someone always boiled water. If Mrs. DeVault didn’t need hot water for birthing the babe, then there’d be plenty for a good cup of tea when her work was done.
Charlotte moaned and held out her hand when Olivia entered the room. ‘‘Help me! I’m in such terrible pain.’’
‘‘Mr. Rice has gone to fetch Mrs. DeVault. She’ll know what to do.’’ Olivia brushed away the damp curls that had once again matted along Charlotte’s forehead. The air outside hung warm and heavy, but perhaps a breeze would drift though if she lifted the window a bit more. ‘‘I’m going to put water on to boil; then I’ll be back.’’
Charlotte had her eyes closed and didn’t argue. Olivia couldn’t tell if she’d fallen asleep or was too exhausted to argue. She offered a quick prayer that Mrs. DeVault would hurry and then decided it might be best to pray for Charlotte and her baby, too. With the water on the stove and no further cries coming from the bedroom, she removed several sheets and blankets from one of Charlotte’s steamer trunks they’d begun to use for storage shortly after moving into the flat. She truly didn’t know what would be needed, but she wanted to do her best to be prepared.
It seemed a lifetime had passed before she heard Mrs. DeVault and Mr. Rice approaching the house. ‘‘You might want to close that bedroom window so’s to keep the noise down a bit. I’m hopin’ to get me a few hours of sleep afore headin’ off for work,’’ Mr. Rice said.
Mrs. DeVault clucked her tongue and informed Mr. Rice that the room would be much too warm with the window shut tight. ‘‘You might try stuffing your ears with a bit of cotton if things get too noisy for you.’’
Mr. Rice mumbled something in response, but Olivia couldn’t hear, and Mrs. DeVault didn’t take time to respond. Instead, she hastened inside carrying an armload of supplies. Soon they were placing a piece of oilcloth, newspaper, and old blankets beneath a complaining Charlotte. Each time they forced her to move, she cried out in pain.
