The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow (6 page)

A hand on her shoulder made her gasp.

“Charlotte,” Archie Shepard said, “are you all right?”

 6 

S
arah set the baby on the cloth on the kitchen floor and turned a couple of chairs on their sides around him.

Mrs. Fletcher scowled. “What makes you think that's going to make him stay put?”

“I have to put him somewhere, and this is what we did before. Is breakfast ready yet?”

“I do not plan my menus around the needs of an infant. We're serving sausages, sweet rolls, and fruit.”

“He doesn't have enough teeth for that,” Sarah said. “He should have oatmeal again, I suppose.”

Mrs. Fletcher gestured toward the stove. “Help yourself.”

“But I haven't learned to cook yet. You were supposed to teach me. That's why they sent me here.” Sarah glanced around the kitchen. “Where's Charlotte?” Sarah asked. That stupid maid would not let him starve.

“I've sent her to the cellar for the day's vegetables.”

“Maybe I'll just mash another banana then, and stir in some milk. We do have fresh milk, don't we?”

Mrs. Fletcher sighed but did not answer.

Sarah opened the icebox and removed a jar of milk. “We must instruct the milkman to increase the daily order. Babies
drink a lot of milk, and this one will be here for a few weeks at least.”

The cook spun and planted her fists on her hips. “You will not tell me how to manage my kitchen.”

“I simply asked for milk for the baby.” Jar and bowl in hand, Sarah withdrew to the other end of the kitchen, a safe distance from the spatula Mrs. Fletcher wielded in one fist. “I suppose you were here in the days when there was a nursery. I do hope the furniture in the attic is suitable.”

“It was good enough for the Banning children,” Mrs. Fletcher muttered. “I've no doubt it will do for a temporary arrangement for a foundling.”

“He'll need a proper high chair for feedings, and a carpet to play on. Of course, my bed will be in the room next to his—not in the servants' quarters.”

The baby clattered against his chair-cage. The chair he used to pull himself up slid under his slight weight, and he tumbled to the floor in a wail.

“Take him out of that ridiculous contraption,” Mrs. Fletcher demanded. “You saw with your own eyes that the child can walk. You can't confine him for your convenience.” She stepped across the room and picked up both chairs, roughly replacing them at the table and leaving the way wide open for the child to go wherever he wanted.

“Fine!” Sarah abandoned the bowl and milk. “I'll take him with me to find a banana.” She snatched the howling child from the floor and stomped into the back hall, passing Archie the coachman as he arrived in search of his breakfast.

“How are things in the coach house on this first morning back?” Mrs. Fletcher asked from her post at the stove.

“A fair bit better than they are in here, from the looks of that girl.” Archie scratched under his chin.

“She's still learning her place, and if you ask me, that high-minded butler has confused the question by putting the child in her care.”

“Is that why she's come to the house,” Archie asked, “to learn her place?”

“She is only here because Mrs. Edwards asked us to keep the girl at least until she returned to Chicago. But as long as she's here, she will only make herself miserable by ignoring the order of things.”

Archie glanced into the empty hall after the girl. “Mrs. Edwards generally has a sound reason when she arranges these things.”

“Mrs. Edwards is on a boat in the middle of the ocean.”

“Yes, with her husband, who is not from Prairie Avenue, because Mrs. Edwards dares to disrupt the order of things as well.”

Mrs. Fletcher turned to inspect him. “Since when have you become the troublemaker?”

Archie met her gaze. “I'm not a troublemaker. For the time being, I'm just a coachman hungry for his breakfast.”

“Has Mr. Penard spoken to you about the furniture in the attic?” Mrs. Fletcher dropped a knife through the center of a large sweet roll fresh from the oven.

“Only in passing.”

“You'll have to go up there and see what Charlotte wants for the nursery.”

“I thought Sarah was to be in the nursery.”

“She is. But for some reason Mrs. Banning put Charlotte in charge of setting things up. I expect Mr. Penard will ask you to carry things down for her.”

“I'll be happy to. I'll get Karl to help. Karl has a stronger back than the rest of the grooms put together.” Archie considered the opportunity to change the subject. “Charlotte seemed troubled last night. How is she this morning?”

Mrs. Fletcher shrugged and dropped a pair of sausages on the sizzling griddle. “She was up before dawn doing just what she was supposed to be doing.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door to the hall. “It does seem it's taking her overly long to bring the vegetables up.”

“I think having the baby here has affected her somehow,” Archie said cautiously. “Has she said anything to you about why it would be troublesome for her to have a baby around?”

“We don't discuss our personal lives. She has never seemed interested.”

Archie nodded. “That's my experience too. I inquired last night when it seemed to me she might collapse, but she would not answer me.”

“You're exaggerating. Why would she collapse over a baby? Once she gets the nursery set up, she won't even have anything to do with him.”

Archie suspected that was precisely what bothered Charlotte, but he held his tongue.

“All I know is I've lost both my kitchen maids for the day,” Mrs. Fletcher groused, “with a mountain of food to prepare for the weekend.”

Charlotte came in from the hallway with a basket of vegetables hanging over her arm. “I'm sorry I took so long, Mrs. Fletcher.” She laid the produce on the counter.

Archie waited to see if she would offer more explanation for her tardiness, but she did not.

“The laundress is coming today,” Mrs. Fletcher announced.
“I only just learned she is Karl's sister. In any event, she'll come in two days a week from now on. You'll be glad to know you won't have to iron any more sheets for a while.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I didn't mind so much.”

“I'm going to the workroom to see if the water is heating up satisfactorily. You can mind the sausages.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Charlotte moved to the array of sausage slices and began arranging them on the griddle.

Archie moved toward her, but she seemed to step away. “Charlotte, I only meant to be helpful last night.”

“I know.” She did not look at him. “You needn't bother about it.”

“You must know how I feel about you.”

His voice was low, but the words paralyzed her nevertheless. It happened every time he came near enough for her to smell his scent or to feel the brush of air against her skin that his movements caused. Her breath stalled every time, and every time she forced it out in an even flow. His hand followed hers as she reached for more meat, his fingers brushing against hers.

“I've made no secret these last few months,” Archie said, “that I have come to admire you. I only hope to understand you as well.”

Charlotte picked up a spatula and flipped several sausages. “You've been most kind to me, Archie.”

He had first held her hand last Christmas Eve, eight months ago, while singing a carol at church, and she had pulled away after only a few seconds. Longing for his touch now would accomplish nothing.

“I have not been nearly as kind as I would like to be,” Archie murmured, standing behind her at the stove, “if only you would allow me.”

She could never tell him. Never. “I think our breakfast is nearly ready. Would you mind calling up the stairs to the other maids, and let the grooms know?”

“You can ask me to do anything, Charlotte Farrow,” he said. “Anything.”

No. Never.

The staff breakfast behind her, Charlotte moved on to the dining room to ensure all was ready for the family's breakfast. The coffee finished perking just as Leo entered and took his seat.

“Your newspaper, sir.” Charlotte laid the paper in front of him.

“Sausage and fruit will be sufficient, and coffee of course.” Leo unfolded the newspaper. “Let's see what the commentators have to say about the World's Columbian Exposition today. The news in Lake Forest always seemed stale.” He scanned his paper. “We missed Illinois Day at the fair yesterday. Five thousand members of the Illinois National Guard marched down the Midway Plaisance, followed by warriors from around the globe. Governor Altgeld himself led the parade. That must have been a sight.”

“Yes, sir.” Charlotte murmured in the same way she always did when family members spoke to her.

Leo dropped his newspaper. “Charlotte, the rumor around the house is that you're afraid to go up in Mr. Ferris's wheel at the fair.” Leo grinned at the maid.

“I admit it makes me a bit nervous, sir.” Charlotte dipped her head.

“I'm an engineer and I believe the construction is sound. Lucy's husband is an architect, and he believes it's safe. Don't you trust us?”