Maren?” Dr. Orton appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Do you need help?”
Petey reached for his father, but Marjorie held tight.
The doctor gave Marjorie a disapproving look. “It appears you are off to a poor start.”
Marjorie had little choice but to lift the child into her arms. His wet clothing penetrated hers, and she had to breathe through her mouth. “I’m fine.”
“Why is Laura crying? Does she need to be fed?”
Marjorie had no idea why Laura was crying—or what a person fed a hungry baby—but she couldn’t tell Dr. Orton. She was on trial. She couldn’t ruin her chances within the first half hour. “I have everything under control.”
“Are you sure?”
She wanted to glower at the doctor, but instead, she forced a tight smile and walked up the stairs with her head held high as Petey tried to wiggle out of her arms.
Laura’s cries were so pitiful Marjorie felt tears gather in the back of her own eyes. Did children always make such a fuss? As an only child, Marjorie had never been exposed to anything like this. Had she been this way for her own governess? It didn’t seem likely.
Marjorie entered the water closet and set Petey on his feet. The little boy tried to push past her, but she held her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must get you clean and put new clothes on you.”
He backed up against the stand-up radiator under the window.
The reprieve gave Marjorie a moment to study his romper, her brow furrowed. There were far too many buttons. If Petey didn’t cooperate, she had no idea how she would get the wet clothing off his wiggly body.
“Mama used to sing to him while she changed his clothes,” Lilly said, suddenly standing at the door.
Marjorie turned to the girl with a bit of desperation. “What did she sing?”
Lilly shrugged and set the clean romper and underclothes on a bureau near the door. “Church hymns, mostly.” The girl went to the bathtub and turned on the water faucet. “It takes a few minutes for the hot water to travel up the pipe from the basement. Mama always used the time to gather her bathing supplies.” Lilly went to the bureau and pulled out a clean towel and washcloth.
Petey stopped squirming and watched his sister work.
Lilly stepped onto the closed toilet seat and reached for a bar of pink soap, high on the top shelf. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the soap. “Petey always asked Mama if he could use her rose-scented soap, but she usually said no because it was a gift Papa gave her.” She looked at Petey, and a tender gaze passed between them before she grabbed the soap. “It makes us feel close to her.”
Petey stood still and dropped his little chin down to his chest.
Lilly set the soap on the towel and then began to hum “Onward, Christian Soldiers” as she unbuttoned Petey’s romper.
Marjorie’s heart broke for the children—but Laura’s wails continued to fill the house, sending gooseflesh racing up Marjorie’s arms.
“Laura needs a bottle and a diaper change.” Lilly looked up at Marjorie, blinking her blue, trusting eyes. “Do you know how to do those things?”
Marjorie wanted to sit on the rug and throw her hands up in defeat. Maybe being a governess was a bad idea—but she couldn’t give up now. She refused to leave another job unfinished. She wouldn’t let her father’s parting words define her. You’re a quitter, Marjorie, and you’ll never change.
“No, but I’m a good student.” Marjorie unbuttoned her sleeves and began to roll them up to her elbows. “Do you know how to make a bottle and change a diaper?”
Lilly nodded and slipped Petey’s romper off his body, her young arms working with an air of confidence Marjorie wished she possessed. “You can bathe Petey, and I’ll see to Laura’s diaper—you do know how to wash someone, don’t you?”
Here, at least, was something Marjorie did know how to do. “Yes, of course—I bathe myself all the time.” She looked toward the room across the hall. “But how will I learn to change her if I’m in here?”
Lilly giggled and the sound was a welcome change from the wailing baby. “She’ll need to be changed again in a few hours. You can learn then.” She reached into the tub and put the plug in the drain.
“Is Petey old enough to talk?” Marjorie asked as she set the boy into the water.
“Of course he is.” Lilly shook her head. “Don’t you know anything about children?”
Marjorie couldn’t tell her the truth—though she suspected the girl already knew. “I have a lot to learn, but you look like a good teacher.”
Lilly’s shoulders lifted at the compliment. “I’ll change Laura and then when you have Petey clean I’ll help you make her a bottle.”
Marjorie smiled at Lilly. “Thank you.”
The girl stepped out of the water closet and Marjorie turned to her next task, determined to do this job well.
She would not be sent back to Chicago.
* * *
An hour later, Marjorie opened her trunk lid and surveyed the gowns piled haphazardly inside.
“Your clothes are lovely,” Lilly breathed beside Marjorie as they stood in the governess’s bedroom. The little girl ran her hand over a purple silk gown.
The governess’s room was surprisingly large, with a fireplace, cheery floral wallpaper, soft white curtains and two generous windows overlooking the front yard. Two doors exited the room, one to the hallway and one to the night nursery, where Laura was finally napping in her cradle.
Marjorie glanced down at her soiled traveling gown, memories of cleaning Petey still fresh in her mind. Thankfully the exhausted little boy was now napping. Marjorie wished she could rest herself, but she needed to unpack, and for the first time in her life there was no maid to do the chore for her.
“I’ve only seen dresses like this in my aunt Dora’s Vogue Magazine,” Lilly said. “Where did you wear them?”
“I didn’t get a chance to wear many of them—although I did wear this one.” Marjorie lifted out the exquisite green dress she had worn to her debutante ball in June of 1917, the day she had met Preston. It had been one of the last debutante balls in Chicago after the United States had entered the war. In June, the young men began to ship out of the city, on their way to fight, and a somber mood had fallen on the country. Instead of dancing and partying, Marjorie had filled her time volunteering for the Red Cross—and entertaining Preston.
After he made his intentions known, her parents insisted that Marjorie allow him to court her. She was eager to finally please them, so she agreed.
Preston was everything her parents had hoped for. With his wealth, success and good connections, it was supposed to be the match of the year. But by the time she realized Preston did
