Would he approve of my rescuing the girl or merely think me impulsive? I glanced at the kitchen clock.
It won’t matter if I don’t get back right now, I thought. The Baineses’ train was about to arrive any minute and I’d be out of my job.
CHAPTER 9
When I returned to Sir Arthur’s house, all I wanted to do was run up the back stairs, get to my room without being seen, and change my clothes. None of that happened. Instead, as I came out of the kitchen, before I could even get to the stairs, Ida was in the doorway, blocking my way.
“Oh, mein Gott!” she declared. “What happened to you, ja?”
“It’s a long story and I need to change quickly. The Baineses will be here any minute.”
“Too late, meine Freundin. They’re already here, ja. He wasn’t pleased you weren’t here to greet them. I was sent to find you.”
“Oh, I better be quick.”
“Nein, nein. You have to come with me now.” She took my arm, as if she expected me to dash out the door and escape Sir Arthur’s reprimand, and pulled me toward the parlor door. “If you don’t come, it will be my trouble, ja?”
“All right, all right.” I tossed the borrowed gloves and cloak over Ida’s outstretched arm but didn’t know what to do with my boots. “This is ridiculous, Ida. I can’t go in there with boots on and looking like this.” I attempted to repin my hair in place without the aid of a mirror.
“But you must,” Ida said, helping me with my hair. “You go in and I’ll get your shoes. You can change later, ja?”
Ida escorted me to the parlor and knocked. “I found Hattie, Herr,” she announced. As I entered the room, my worst fears were confirmed. Sir Arthur was not alone. Lieutenant Triggs and his wife turned at my approach. A tall, handsome, impeccably dressed man in his fifties with a full head of silvery-blond hair and a short, tidy mustache stood leaning against the wall next to the fire. He winked at me. I blushed, confused until he did the same thing a moment later when he was looking elsewhere. I’d come to recognize it as a nervous twitch in his eye. But what did he have to be nervous about?
Also in the room, seated on the settee closest to the fire, chatting about the barely palatable breakfast she had been served on the train, was a woman in her early fifties, who, though still attractive, must have been striking in her youth. Her light brown hair showed not a single streak of gray; her complexion was creamy and flawless except the few wrinkles etched into the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her day dress of cream and pink printed silk was exquisite, expensive, and probably mail-ordered from Paris or New York. She didn’t smile when she saw me. Nor did she stop talking.
“Don’t you agree, Mrs. Triggs?” Before Mrs. Triggs had a chance to reply, the woman continued. “And the food they served was simply atrocious. The omelet was cold, the salmon was slimy—” She glanced at me again. She screamed. “Oh my God, Sir Arthur! The filthiest vagrant creature I’ve ever seen is standing in your doorway!” She turned her head away. Sir Arthur started when he saw me. “John, Sir Arthur, somebody, please make it go away.”
“My, my, Miss Davish, you look like Saint George battling the dragon. Did the dragon win this time?” Lieutenant Triggs laughed at his own joke.
“Gentlemen, ladies, if you will excuse me for a moment.” With a scowl Sir Arthur indicated that he wanted me to precede him out of the room. The moment he closed the door behind him, he turned on me.
“Hattie, what the devil have you been doing this morning?” he scolded, scrutinizing my torn and filthy dress and wet rubber boots. “As you could see, our guests have arrived. And yet you were nowhere to be found, only to appear in my parlor as an unkempt vagabond. I don’t need to tell you how disappointed I am. I’ve come to expect more from you than this. I demand an explanation.”
“I’m sorry, sir, my appearance is unacceptable, even to me, but with good cause, I assure you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Gertie Reynard fell through the ice on the river this morning and I was the only one about to help. I was running late and didn’t have time to change.”
Sir Arthur stared at me for a moment and then roared with laughter. “My God, Hattie Davish, is there nothing you can’t do?” Then he sent me upstairs to change. Once presentable again, I returned to the parlor.
“. . . And I’d be more than happy to help with the—” The woman by the fire was cut off mid-sentence by Sir Arthur.
“Ah, there’s the secretary I know. Hattie, I’d like to introduce you to our new guests,” Sir Arthur said, indicating the man by the fire and the woman who had been talking when I came in. “Mr. and Mrs. John Baines, my secretary and personal assistant, Miss Hattie Davish. Despite her awkward appearance earlier, she is extremely capable and will aid you in anything you need here during your stay.”
“Charmed,” John Baines said, tipping his head. His eye twitched again.
His wife, with a blank expression on her face, said, “Good. As I didn’t bring my maid and yours did clean up well, I’ll need help unpacking. And I’d like a bath drawn before ten.”
“Rachel,” her husband hissed, “I don’t think that’s what Sir Arthur meant.”
“But I’m simply exhausted from my journey, darling,” she said.
Relieved that Mr. Baines had come to my rescue, I said, “Ida will be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Baines.”
“Yes, Hattie’s probably been too busy this morning typing up manuscript notes and rescuing little girls to see to anything else,” Sir Arthur said.
“Rescuing little girls?” Mrs. Triggs said, swinging her head around to look at me.
“That’s why Hattie appeared before us in tatters,” Sir Arthur said. “She’s been out on the river near General Starrett’s house. Tell them the story, Hattie.” I related the story of this morning’s adventure. Everyone seemed riveted by my tale, everyone except Mrs. Baines, who stood up and yawned.
“Excuse me, I’m going to my room now,” she said. “I’m simply exhausted by the journey. John, are you coming?” Her husband didn’t appear to hear her. “John? John? Jack!”
“Yes?” John Baines said.
“I said, are you coming?”
“I’ll be up in a moment,” he said. “Please, Miss Davish, you had me on the edge of my chair.” His wife stared at him, and then she glanced over at Lieutenant and Mrs. Triggs, who also seemed eager for the conclusion of my story.
“Mrs. Triggs,” Mrs. Baines said, “you look as exhausted as I feel. Wouldn’t you like to retire to your room?”
Mrs. Triggs’s shoulders drooped and all the color, except two rosy spots on her cheeks, left her face. She dropped her eyes to her lap.
“I didn’t notice it before,” Lieutenant Triggs said, “but you look unwell, Priscilla. Maybe you should lie down.” Mrs. Triggs visibly wilted before my eyes.
“But
