A Private Hotel for Gentle Ladies (29 page)

This wasn’t a time to be picky. She’d have to retrain herself when it came to that color, and she wouldn’t think twice about the fact that it blended so badly with her hair, and made her look, she felt, like a sugar maple full-blown with autumn leaves, or a heated-up, red-glowing fire tong, with a hot orange glow at the top.

“Would the dress be all right, Mrs. Heath?”

“It’s excellent.”

Charlotte draped the dress on her arm, found her purse, took out five dollars. It had annoyed her, all those days ago, that the money the Gersons had given her—had lent to her—was mostly all in small bills. But now she was glad of it. The extravagant sum she handed Moaxley seemed all the more lavish. He refused it.

“It’s gratis,” he said. “Mr. Alcorn said specially, for Mrs. Heath, granted what a help she was with the police, gratis.”

“It’s not for the dress.”

“Thanks very much for the thought, but no,” said Moaxley.

“It’s not for you. Please take this to Georgina. Tell her it’s my contribution to her strike. A private contribution.”

“If you insist. But just one of those bills will be enough, more than enough, to make your gesture appreciated, Mrs. Heath.”

“Maybe so,” said Charlotte, “but five of them will be unforgettable. And tell her, if she wouldn’t mind, could she wrap up some sandwiches she’s making anyway for the lunch, and send them up to me, immediately, please. It’s not crossing a line because it’s not on a tray. It’s not a meal. It’s sandwiches wrapped in a napkin.”

“She might be obliging.” Moaxley took the money. Charlotte heard him chuckling to himself as he walked down the hall. I’m going to miss him, she thought.

Eunice sat at the very edge of the bed with her feet pressed tightly together and her hands folded in her lap, like a child who’s been sent to the dunce corner in a classroom.

“Do you like it?” said Charlotte.

More sniffing. “It’s not near as nice as the other but it’s nice enough.”

“I’m going to wash my face and then get dressed,” said Charlotte.

She hadn’t meant for Eunice to jump up and come over to help her, but there was no telling her not to. Charlotte took off her underskirt and checked it to see if there were any spots from her time of the month. There weren’t, but she knew there’d be some, soon enough. It was likely to happen that as soon as she put on the dress, her body would be inspired to start bleeding.

She realized that it would take her awhile to make a clear separation in her mind between “red dress” and “that blood.” Thoughtfully, without mentioning it, Mabel Gerson had packed some cloths for the very purpose in the satchel she’d prepared. Charlotte admired that. She never would have thought of it herself.

The little maid handed her the new undergarments one at a time, then helped her put on the new dress. It buttoned up the back. Eunice’s fingers on the buttons were trembly, but she managed. She seemed glad to have a pause in her confession.

The dress didn’t hang on Charlotte as if it belonged to a much larger woman, as loose as it was. The material was lightweight wool. The waist wasn’t gathered tightly at all. Its seams sat nicely above her hips. The bodice was simple, without folds to conceal a bosom. There was no extra fabric in the back for a bustle. A fine tweedlike pattern of raised black threads was woven into the neckline, which was low, so her throat wasn’t covered.

The sleeves, Charlotte felt, should really have been left alone. Above the elbows, they were satin, and ballooned out, crimped and puffy, as if someone had blown hot air into them.

“Very stylish, the uppers of the sleeves,” observed Eunice. “Balloons, they call them. It’s what all the ladies are wearing.”

“I don’t believe in wearing balloons. These sleeves look all swollen up.” But the lower parts were all right. There wasn’t any fringe at the wrists, just double rows of buttons.

“You look so beautiful. It’s so apt for you,” said Eunice.

Charlotte found her hairbrush. She went back to the chair. Sat back down. Brushed her hair slowly. Gathered it up at the back of her neck. Twisted it into a loose knot. Reached up to the bureau where her pins were. Put in the pins. Her hands were steady. Eunice sat back down at the edge of the bed in exactly the same position as before.

“May I ask you some questions?” said Charlotte.

“Please, missus, please do.”

“Was your mother a schoolteacher?”

“She was, and more, like you were told.”

“Did your father work for Sears, Roebuck in Hartford?”

“Same as you were told.”

“Was he fat?”

“He was.”

“After he died were you offered a discount for life on things from the catalog?”

“I was. They were powerful fond of my dad.”

“And did you ever,” said Charlotte quietly, “buy things from the catalog for Mr. Pym?”

“I’ve done so. But he doesn’t like it to be known, so he takes out the labels. At his college they look down on the type of product from the company.”

“Is Mr. Pym a student of Harvard College?”

“Oh, he is, he’s been one for ages.”

“And what would be the reason you and Mr. Pym are on such close terms, Eunice?”

She looked down at her feet. “That I would rather not answer, please.”

“How old did you tell me you are?”

“Sixteen.”

“Mr. Pym is older.”

“Oh, but it doesn’t feel it.”

“Are you in love with him?”

More tears, welling up. Little rivulets down her cheeks. “Please, it’s not allowed. Mr. Alcorn’s so very particular with us. There was a maid what took up with one of the boys, not a college one, but a boy from a farm, out in Dover. Mr. Alcorn got wind of it and they were thrown to the street without their back wages, as a penalty, and it was awful.”

“No one’s going to throw you out,” said Charlotte. “Did your mother go away in the middle of the night when you were a girl?”

“She did, the way he said it.”

“Did she send you an address of where to reach her?”

“It was just as he said.”

“Did you try to get on a train and some men accosted you?”

“They were brutes,” said Eunice. “I was out of my wits.”

“But you got away from them.”

“I did, like he said.”

“He told me that there was an old schoolfriend who was a betrayer.”

“That was true. My friend Ginny. Her father was a man my mum knew, on the board of the overseers of the schools. It broke my heart how she turned on me, when it was broke already from what happened with my mum.”

“And where did you go when you ran away from those brutes?”

“I was in service then, at the home of an awful cruel lady, but I went back there. It was my luck then, another lady was visiting. She was kind to me, like you, missus, and she got me to tell her everything what went on, as I was not in a fit state to seem normal-like. The lady was one of them get-the-votes-for-ladies people. She was on her way to Boston and she took me with her. I don’t know what happened to her afterward but this was where she brought me. She was fond of Mr. Alcorn and was a guest here sometimes.”

“And here you are.”

“Yes, missus. That’s the whole of it.”

“I was told there was a physician. I think I remember the name. Gudjohnson or something. Something Nordic.”

“Yes, but that was an added-on bit. Mr. Pym had such a neighbor and he was over to his house all the time. The doctor was an old tippler, a regular souse. Don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Mr. Pym’s been always with a gift for what’s medical. He was a kind of apprentice to that man.”

“And where would this neighborhood of Mr. Pym’s be?”

“In Cambridge near the college. Such a pretty street, you never saw the like. Everything grand and leafy. Quiet-like.”

“You’ve been there?”

Eyes cast down to the floor. “Please if you don’t mind, I’ll not answer that.”

“And who is Mr. Pym’s father?”

“A professor at the college, like.”

“In what subject?”

“The arithmetic, what he’s always had so much trouble with.”

“And who is his mother?”

“A lady. She’s one of them have-the-votes, too. I saw a painting of her. She’s very elegant, very what you might call upper in the classes.”

“When Mr. Pym brought you to his house, his mother and father weren’t at home?”

“Oh, they travel such a lot. They go to Europe, to all sorts of places.”

The door. Discreet, gentle knocking. Eunice jumped up and Charlotte stopped her, in case it was Arthur. “Who is there?”

“Your lunch, Mrs. Heath.”

It was Georgina herself, handing in an entire tablecloth folded up around a stack of sandwiches. “Is Eunice with you?”

“She is.”

“Is she all right?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Tell her to come down to me. I want her to help with the serving in the tearoom, soon as she’s able.”

“I’ll do that. I’m sorry Mrs. Petty had to leave, Georgina.”

“She’s such an old cow.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Not actually.”

“I know. Thank you for feeding me.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not crossing my strike if I do it myself. Thank you for the, uh, contribution.”

“You’re welcome, and you don’t have to say anything else about it. Would you do something ever so kindly for me, which I know is not your job, but as you’re here right now, I’ve the need to mention it?”

“Mention it, Mrs. Heath.”

“Please ask Mr. Alcorn to telephone to another hotel for me, and reserve a room for me, beginning about an hour from now.”

“Mr. Alcorn’s gone out. He’s gone to see a framer-man about putting poor Miss Singleton’s pictures into frames, and anyway, I’m not speaking to him, for making me wait so long for a new cook to come over the ocean, and a French one, that doesn’t speak hardly a word of English.”

“Then ask Moaxley.”

“He won’t use the telephone. He thinks it will put electrical shocks into his ears. He’s stubborn about it. Perhaps I can mention it to the managing housekeeper.”

“Mrs. Fox.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, she’ll not be sad to see you leaving. She’s terrible prejudiced about things, sometimes. What hotel?”

“It’s called the Essex, near Copley Square.”

“I’ll have it phoned to. Will you want a cab?”

“Are the streets clear enough for carriages?”

“They are. Sleigh runners wouldn’t go in all the slush that’s out there.”

“Then I’ll have a carriage. Please have it meet me at the corner of the Common, across from the Dome. I shall walk down there.”

Georgina didn’t think it was out of the ordinary for a Beechmont guest to want to be picked up outside of the hotel. But she said, “Your feet will get wet. It’s deep as a river with that mess of snow that came down last night.”

“I don’t mind wet feet.”

“But we don’t have anyone to spare to go with you.”

“I don’t mind going alone. When you’re on speaking terms with Mr. Alcorn again, will you tell him, I’m his friend, and I shall write to him?”

At the mention of the words “write to him,” Eunice let out another round of sniffly, choky sobs. More tears.

“And tell him to tell Miss Blanchette I would like to visit her again.”

“I heard she was fond of you.”

“And I of her. Good luck, Georgina,” said Charlotte.

She bolted the door. Back in the chair, she opened the cloth and let it spread itself to cover the dress. She didn’t care how dry her throat was—she’d get some tea later. She ate three of the sandwiches in silence, with Eunice’s eyes on her. Cold chicken, with a coagulated jellylike fattiness between the meat and the bread, which Rowena Petty would have screamed at in horror.

There were two left, and Charlotte offered them to the maid. Eunice got up and took them, and the tablecloth too, and carefully rewrapped them. “I’ll save them for later and bring this back to the kitchen, if you’re finished with me now, missus. Are you finished with me now?”

“I want you to know I’ll keep your secret,” said Charlotte. “Do you want to find out what happened to your mum?”

“Oh, I’d give the world for it.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I think someone was meaning to harm her. I think it had to do with something she found out about in the schools. I was so little, you know, it’s all terrible mysterious. She was so much concerned with things like honor. Things like that. I heard her say to my dad once, you know, you think if someone’s involved with education, they’re good people, they’re not criminal-like.”

“Tell me anything else you remember.”

“There was a pair of little girls that went missing around the same time as Mum. Nobody ever said there was a connection. They came from another part of Hartford, the nicer part. I heard it talked about in the house where I went into service. Twins, they were. About my own age. I think Mum knew them, as they’d be in a school where she had girls in teacher training, from her teachers’ college. It was all such a terrible mystery, like I said.”

“Don’t tell me you think your mother was a kidnapper,” said Charlotte.

“Oh, I never would. It would be more of the opposite.”

“As if these girls were being harmed, by someone else?”

“They were the cousins of my once-friend Ginny.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Charlotte. “How would you like it if I wrote a new letter to my uncle, and this time, I changed the names of the persons I want to be investigated? What is your name?”

“Ingalls, missus. They were George and Mary Alice Ingalls.”

“Those aren’t the ones I was told.”

“No, he changed that, like he left out the bit about the two girls. The names he would’ve given would be, of his own.”

“Why do you think Mr. Pym took your life, and made it seem to me it was his own?”

“He liked it better than his,” said Eunice simply.

“And does he always tell the story to, you know, lady guests?”

“Now and then only. Not all the time.”

“And does it bother you, Eunice, to know that he—that he does what he does?”

“Please. I’ll not be able to answer that. He’ll be going soon enough as it is. His tutor what he went to do the bog body with wants for him to come and be with him in the hospital out there. The tutor says it’s not worth his while to do any more studies. He won’t have a proper certificate but they say, out there, it doesn’t matter.”