Unveiled (3 page)

“Miss Fan, Lady Pemberton wants you to come to tea,” one of the maids called through the door. “And she asks that you wear the pink plush.”

The pink plush? Katie leaped from the bed and opened the chiffonier, gasping at the lovely gowns inside. There were muslins and silks, satins and laces, day dresses and riding outfits. Every imaginable color was represented, and every available fabric had been pressed into the making of this wardrobe. Almost reverently, she touched the sleeve of the pink day dress.

It felt like the finest of cottons, soft and cool to the skin. But there was something eerie about taking another woman’s clothes, especially one who was presumed dead. It was almost like seeing a ghost. Swallowing her trepidation, Katie withdrew the dress from its hook, then wrapped the garment lovingly around her and stood before the mirror.

She couldn’t prevent the involuntary gasp that came from her lips. It was gorgeous. The rose color brought out the best of her dark hair and made her eyes seem hauntingly blue. Indecision coursed through her, but the temptation of the dress was too strong. Maybe, for just a few hours, she’d go along with this. After all, who would it hurt?

She got her answer very shortly. Choking for breath as Clarise, the maid, tightened her corset, she straightened, obviously in pain. “Does it really have to be so tight?”

“Yes, miss,” Clarise responded, perplexed. “All the young ladies lace their corsets that way. At least you didn’t have to lay on the floor. My last mistress needed me to stand on her bottom just to get them tight enough.”

“My God, this is like a torture chamber.” Katie shrugged into seven petticoats, a bustle, a corset cover, the pink skirt, then a bodice with a detachable lace collar. By the time the costume was complete, she felt like a stuffed rag doll. Each breath was a new experience in pain and every motion made her want to faint.

“You’ll get used to it, I suppose.” The maid giggled at Katie’s expression. “But you look lovely, and you have such a small waist. Look in the glass.”

Katie glanced at the mirror. The dress was pretty and fashionable, completely different from the secondhand dress she’d worn for the trip. She turned, observing the way the skirt swept the floor, and she reminded herself to hold it up or else she’d trip. Her hair, pulled up into a simple style, now softly framed her face. She looked like a lady, or at least like the niece of one.

“I’ll get the scissors and trim your hair tonight,” Clarise said. “It will be easier to dress.”

Katie nodded, then started grimly for the stairs. Being wealthy wasn’t as easy as it looked. But then, nothing was. That was a lesson Katie had learned long ago.

“Mr. Bartram, my family’s known yours for two generations. We’ve done business with this bank for years. My father stood for your son’s christening! And you mean to tell me I can’t have even the smallest loan?”

“I’m afraid not.” Clyde Bartram fiddled with his stiffly waxed mustache and stared sympathetically at Christopher. “I’m sorry, but we know what is happening to your finances. Your railroad stocks are worthless, your mortgage payment is past due…it is all I can do to keep the creditors at bay now. It is only your reputation and your family’s name that has kept the collectors from your door.”

“Then it’s hopeless.” Christopher stared at the beautifully polished mahogany desk before him. “I’ve tried everything. Overnight I’m a pauper.”

“It’s worse than that.” Clyde pulled a stack of papers from a file on his desk and spread them out for display. “All of these are coming due. Your house is the collateral for a lot of these loans, but the mortgage hasn’t been paid. I’ve been able to keep your secret for the time being, but I can’t hold out much longer.”

“And then what?” Christopher had to ask.

Clyde shrugged, then examined the papers, refusing to look at Christopher as he did so. “You know the answer to that, son. They’ll sell off the house and the assets, pay off the debts, then, if there are any proceeds, pay you the balance. I asked you here today, Christopher, because I’ve drawn up some preliminary figures. You won’t be left with a red cent if you let this happen.”

“Isn’t there anything you can suggest? No short-term loan, or promissory note?”

The banker looked quietly at the polished young man before him and shrugged. “Have you thought of going into some kind of business? The economy’s getting better and—”

“And who would advance me the money for that?” Christopher snorted. “I don’t know where next month’s payments are coming from.”

“You have a point,” Clyde said softly. “And once you start asking for a loan, creditors all over town will hear of your state. And if your reputation is ruined…I hate to say this, but Philadelphia is an unforgiving town. You’d be finished. My best advice is—and I know this sounds odd—”

“I know. Marry for money.” Christopher put on his hat and extended a hand. “Thanks, Clyde. It’s the same advice I’ve been hearing all over town.”

“I’ll try to extend your mortgage payments through the summer,” the banker said. “But it’s not a bad idea, Christopher. Perhaps you should consider it.”

Christopher stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“That dress looks lovely on you, Fan. When I saw you in that horrible costume you arrived in, I nearly lost my wits. What do you expect from that ne’er-do-well…. Well, never mind all that. You’re back now and that’s all that matters.”

Katie smiled, then attempted to take a seat on the porch of the elaborate summer cottage. The bustle, made up of yards of fabric and a cagelike contraption, refused to accommodate itself to anything like sitting. She struggled comically with the dress until Ella Pemberton, coughing with discreet laughter, showed her how she could lower herself onto a cushion.

“Thank you,” Katie breamed. “I’ve never had a dress like this. And the petticoats!” She lifted a corner of her skirt, indicating the layers of fabric beneath. “This dress needs seven!”

“We do without a few when it gets very hot,” Ella admitted as she leaned forward, pouring the tea from an elaborate silver urn. “There is always a breeze, however, so you needn’t worry about the vapors.”

Katie nodded. With the way her corset restricted her breathing, fainting was a distinct possibility. Still, the gown was gorgeous, the porch wonderful, and the food plentiful. Eileen brought out the tray, giving Katie a disapproving look as she placed it with the rest.

“Doesn’t Fan look lovely, Eileen?” Ella asked.

“Lovely.” Eileen’s voice was heavy with irony. “But no matter how you change the blanket, it’s still the same horse.”

“What are you talking about, horses and such rubbish? I think you’ve been in the sun too long. Do bring Fan and me some fresh tea. We want to enjoy the air.”

Eileen departed, giving Katie a sarcastic look, which Katie ignored. As she sipped the tea her mouth watered at the sight of the luscious cakes, the sandwiches, the sugared almonds, and an assortment of fruits. Even if it was just for today, she would enjoying playing Fan, no matter what the housekeeper thought.

“It’s so beautiful here.” Katie indicated the rows of cottages that stretched along the road. Porch after porch was easily visible, and she could see the lovely women in their soft summer dresses pouring tea and chatting quietly. The porches themselves seemed more an extension of the parlor than anything else, and the best of the house furniture graced the pretty verandas.

“I don’t suppose you remember it much from when you were a little girl.” Ella smiled, her face softening at the recollection. “You used to play on the beach with your dolls, bringing them tea just like the ladies did. Do you recall the day that horrid Weston boy kicked sand all over your dishes? You didn’t cry, but proceeded to drench him in seawater tea. I thought I’d laugh all afternoon.”

Katie smiled. The older woman was enjoying herself, there was no doubt about that. And if it wasn’t for the dress, she would be as well. She vowed to discard half of the underwear beneath the gown, and she didn’t care what Clarise said, she would refuse to be laced so tightly. Helping herself to one of the cakes, she found she could only eat tiny pieces of it, for the very act of swallowing was difficult with the tightly laced corset.

But it was a small price to pay. She felt beautiful, fashionable, and most of all…respectable. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her disgrace. Even Father O’Leary, the local parish priest had confessed that he was disappointed in her. And once she had become noticeably pregnant, many of her friends had deserted her as well.

She frowned at the memory. She would have to tell Ella Pemberton the truth, but she wasn’t compelled to do it immediately. The older woman seemed so happy with the illusion. It seemed the least she could do. Unaware of her expression, she flinched when Ella leaned forward and pinched her cheek sharply. “Stop that, you’ll make wrinkles. And sit up straight. Here comes the Misses Chandler. Smile, dear.”

Katie did as she was told, her lips freezing. If she allowed Ella to introduce her as her niece, it would be that much harder on Ella when the truth was finally discovered. And somehow Katie knew they would know. The Misses Chandler, even from the distance, looked formidable. It was one thing to fool a senile old lady. It was another to fool wealthy society matrons.

Katie was about to feign an excuse when Ella gave her a sharp look. “I don’t want any protests, Fan. I know what you think of them, but you must say hello. It will be too rude to run off when they’ve seen you.”

Katie could do nothing but smile as the two matrons approached, their eyes peering inquisitively from behind their bonnets. Appearing like two crows in their somber gowns and haughty manner, they stepped rigidly onto the porch and gave a cool nod to Ella. Immediately they both turned toward “Fan,” observing her with the same thoroughness that Eileen had employed when she’d first arrived.

“Ladies,” Ella said cordially. “This is my niece. You do remember Frances? Fan, this is Alice and Martha Chandler.”

“Charmed,” Alice said, then her intonation abruptly changed. “Frances? You don’t mean…”

“Why yes, this is Fan,” Ella said, sitting back in her chair and gesturing to the others. “Do join us. My niece has just arrived and is no doubt anxious to hear all the gossip.”

“Fan?” Martha questioned softly. Both of the women turned eager eyes to her.

Katie swallowed hard. Catching Ella’s suggestion from the corner of her eye, she nodded. “Ladies. How are you? I’m so glad you could join us. It’s nice to be back.”

She used the polite, formal tones of the women whose homes she’d once cleaned, fidgeting to keep from giggling. In one of her attempts to make money, she’d worked as a maid. Servants were considered invisible. The rich women had spoken freely around Katie, and she remembered their speech inflections. This was going to be fun, she thought, swallowing a grin. She would have to confess all of this. Tomorrow.

The Misses Chandler exchanged a curious glance, then took the proffered chairs. “We can stay but a minute. We have the Pews visiting this afternoon,” Alice said grandly, then turned curiously to Katie. There was a faint disapproval in her voice and an amused mockery that Katie was all too familiar with. “Will you be staying awhile, dear? You’ve been away for such a long time.”

Katie was about to respond when Ella cut in abruptly. “Of course she will. This is her home. Now that Fan is back, I trust you’ll see her invited to all the best parties and teas. I want her reintroduced to society.”

“I see.” Martha coughed delicately. She glanced at Alice, and the two women shared a look, then Martha turned back to Ella. “I don’t know quite how to say this. I mean, we’ll do everything we can but…there is the scandal, you know.”

The silence was palpable. Martha looked down to her feet while Alice blushed a brilliant red. Ella appeared furious.

Katie swallowed hard, all too aware of the feeling of humiliation. She’d dealt with it herself for so long that all of her indignation was aroused on behalf of the missing Frances. These women, and dozens more like them, would scorn Fan simply because of an indiscretion, one that wouldn’t raise more than an eyebrow with a man.

She had thought only the poor did this, shunned a woman who didn’t quite conform, but she’d been very much mistaken. In some ways, the wealthy were even more cruel. She could just picture the whispers, the snide laughter, and the cutting remarks designed to punish Fan for daring to follow her heart.

Katie burned, her fists clutching her lace handkerchief and balling it into knots. She was about to speak hotly when Ella interrupted, her voice like ice.

“She is not a scandal,” Ella said firmly. “She made a mistake. She is young; it has been known to happen.”

“I know, I know!” Alice interjected. “And Martha didn’t mean to pass judgment. It’s just…you know how society people are. They could never forget that she ran off like that, with that man.”

“I see.” Ella fixed the two women with a harsh stare. “Then I suppose I’m obliged to remind them of your niece’s little indiscretion, Martha. When she allowed that photographer to take her picture at the fair with the—dare I say it?—actor. Photographs are so inconvenient, aren’t they? And I can’t imagine what her fiancé would think.”

Martha had turned an interesting shade of scarlet, Katie noticed. And Alice looked uneasy, a feeling that was rewarded a moment later when Ella turned to her.