Band of Sisters (30 page)

“Kindness!”

“That bad beginning with Mr. Meitland was an unfortunate misunderstandin’. Miss Olivia explained it perfectly, and it was nothin’ to do with her, anyway.” Katie Rose dug both fists into her hips. “She’s done all she could to find us, to make amends. It’s no good bearin’ a grudge, Maureen. You’d best stop poutin’ and mopin’ about before you ruin things for the both of us.”

“You don’t know the Meitlands.” Maureen drew out each word.

“No, I don’t, nor do you. But I shall meet Mrs. Meitland on Saturday.” Katie Rose drew her words equally long. “It’s not right to judge Olivia’s sister by the rudeness of her husband.” She took up the teakettle and half giggled. “And if he’s a problem, I’ve a feelin’ Miss Olivia can well take care of him.”

“You don’t understand anythin’.”

Katie Rose slammed the kettle onto the stove. “Then perhaps you’d best explain it to me. Because what I do understand is that I’ve been workin’ like a scullery woman and cook after spendin’ my long day at the Triangle, and you waltz in here like the queen bee with nothin’ but frowns and grimaces for everythin’ that’s good or hopeful in our lives.” Katie Rose felt her blood rising and only wished she dared fling harsher words at her sister.

Silence stretched between them as Maureen stood in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed, as though praying. Finally she said, “We cannot go to the Meitlands because we cannot, dare not, trust them. Mr. Meitland is . . . he’s not a gentleman; he’s a dangerous man.”

“Not a gentleman? And dangerous? Says who?” Katie Rose demanded.

“Says I!” Maureen’s voice rose and her eyes popped open. “And I don’t say it lightly, but that’s all you need to know!”

“That’s not good enough. If you’ve somethin’ sure to say, you’d best say it. Gone are the days when I follow you around like a whelp pup, Maureen O’Reilly. You’ve proven you’re not thinkin’ straight. You imagine fairies and leprechauns where there are none. Look how you took on last week at Mrs. Melkford’s and your rudeness in the church.” Katie Rose threw coal onto the fire. “You’ve left me little to trust.”

Maureen turned her face to the wall.

Katie Rose, seeing her sister’s shoulders slump in defeat, was moved to pity—a little. She knelt beside Maureen. “What is it? What’s made you so dark?”

“I’ve been demoted. There’ll be no pay this week and only half the next. I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep this flat, and there’ll surely be no trolley fare to anywhere, least of all to the Meitlands’.”

“What have you done now?”

The face Maureen raised to Katie Rose was not repentant but angry. “I’ve done nothin’! I stole nothin’, but that wicked Mr. Kreegle planted a pearl necklace in my coat, sayin’ I’d taken it, and . . .”

Katie Rose sat back on her knees in horror as the story poured from Maureen—details of the necklace, the fighting off of Kreegle, the shaming before the store. Rarely had she seen her sister cry and never in such a state. For the first time in memory, Katie Rose found herself in the role of comforter.

“How dare the man! But don’t cry; don’t take on so. There’s no understandin’ the gall of some of these Americans. We’ll manage.” Katie Rose pulled out her hankie and pressed it against Maureen’s cheek. “We’ve almost the rent saved for another month. We’ll just have to . . . to go Spartan on the tea for a while. And you’re right; we’ll walk to the Meitlands’.”

But the fear in her sister’s eyes did not subside. “They’re tryin’ to force me out of Darcy’s. And you know what that means—no job and no references. We can’t manage on your wages alone.”

“But why? Why would they force you out? Has that Mr. Kreegle so much say, just because you wouldn’t . . . wouldn’t let him have his way?” Katie Rose looked at Maureen as though she’d not seen her before, trying to imagine why anyone would not want her beautiful, striking sister working at their counter. “Is it . . . is it because you’re Irish?” she whispered.

“No!” Maureen threw up her hands. “I think it’s because of what I . . . what I suspect. What I know of them.”

“What on earth are you talkin’ about?”

But Maureen put her face in her lap and covered her head with her hands, as near to keening as silent sobbing allowed. Katie Rose did not know what to do.

“Shall we go to Mrs. Melkford’s, Maureen? Will that help?”

“No!” Maureen cried.

“Then let me get Joshua—or Miss Olivia.”

“No!”

“Then tell me what’s the matter!” Katie Rose was nearly frantic. “It’s got to be more than a demotion!”

And so Maureen began her story with Jaime Flynn and his financial rescue and the job address given at Ellis Island. Before she could go further, Katie Rose cut her off.

“You took money from a strange man?” Katie Rose frowned, knowing such a thing was not to be done. “You shouldn’t have. But it’s all right now. It came out all right with the job.”

“But I lied to get it. I told Mr. Kreegle that the Wakefields had recommended I go there. I forged a letter from Mrs. Melkford, saying she recommended my character and vouched for my workin’ history.”

“You never!”

“I did. I was desperate to stay in America and desperate to keep you here.”

“Mrs. Melkford would have helped you for the askin’, and Olivia would have helped.”

“I didn’t know that then! How could I?”

“How could you do that to Mrs. Melkford?” Katie Rose took her hands from her sister.

“It was wrong. I’ve nothin’ to excuse it, and I’ve never told her. But Jaime Flynn has come and wants his money back—insists—and I don’t have it.” Maureen rocked back and forth in her agony. “The demotion is all part of a plan to force me into greater desperation.”

“Greater desperation?” Katie Rose tried to understand. And as the possibilities dawned, she reclaimed her feet. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Maureen drew a deep breath—“that Jaime Flynn never meant me to be a shopgirl, a department store clerk. He meant me to work upstairs, where there’s some sort of . . . sort of . . . ladies escortin’ gentlemen about.”

“You mean a . . . a brothel? Like the women downstairs?”

Maureen shook her head no, then yes. “I think so—or more likely some sort of escort service. But girls have been disappearin’ altogether from Darcy’s—at least my friend Alice and another girl. I know Jaime Flynn and others more powerful are behind it—Drake Meitland, for one.”

“I don’t believe it. Darcy’s is a respectable department store.”

Maureen’s stricken face did not move Katie Rose.

“You’ve taken money from a man and accepted his help,” Katie Rose recounted quietly, “just like you did from Lord Orthbridge. If you’re up to your old tricks, I’ll not be part of it.”

“You don’t understand!”

“What I understand is that you’ve not changed! All the village said you—”

“When the floor supervisor ordered me to leave my counter, she said that Mr. Kreegle offered to transport me and my sister across state lines for ‘alternative employment’!” Maureen stood and faced Katie Rose. “Do you understand what that means?”

Katie Rose felt the blood drain from her face. “I understand what you think it means.”

“Katie Rose!”

“Perhaps you’re right about the man at the store, but I’ll not do it—no more than I’d have done it with Gavin Orthbridge!”

“And I’ll not have you do it! But I’m tellin’ you the Meitland man and his friends may be part of the disappearance of those women. They may all be connected, these men who meet on the fourth floor. We can’t have anythin’ to do with him—not with him or his wife or her sister or any of them!”

Despite Katie Rose’s nasty accusations, pouting lip, and obstinate silence through the remainder of the week, Maureen was certain she’d made her point, certain her younger sister would obey her now that she knew the seriousness of their plight.

But when Maureen returned home after a long and wearisome Saturday restocking shelves in the Darcy’s Department Store cellar, she found the apartment empty, with only a note next to the table lamp.

I’ve gone to the tea. Will be back when it’s done.

Katie Rose

Maureen dropped the paper, unbelieving.
How could she go when I told her . . . ? Foolish, foolish girl!

But in her anger an image of her sister rose up before her. Young, flirtatious, smiling, trusting—so wanting to be noticed. An image of Drake Meitland followed closely behind, his superior smirk and the cultured voice she was certain was his that night in the dark of Darcy’s Department Store.

Maureen had not unbuttoned her cloak. She grabbed her purse, dug a nickel from the pint jar on their bedside table, as well as the address for Dorothy Meitland, and raced down the stairs.

By the time Maureen reached the mansion in Salley Square, she was breathless, her frozen feet ached, and the rumble in her empty stomach had become a grinding churn. But she pounded on the front door with all the force of a judge’s gavel, determined to rescue her sister.

Olivia had just poured tea for the Ladies’ Circle when a frantic pounding began at Dorothy’s front door.

Dorothy started. Several of the women raised inquisitive brows, but Olivia signaled for her sister to continue with her guests and discreetly slipped from the drawing room, closing the doors softly behind her.

By the time she reached the foyer, George, the Meitlands’ middle-aged protective and vigilant butler, had planted himself firmly in the front doorway and was addressing the ruffian in quiet but not uncertain terms.

Olivia thought to step back, to allow George to attend to his business, but the brogue of the undaunted ruffian sounded surprisingly familiar.

“Where is she? Where is my sister?” The flame-haired, green-eyed monster pushed past George, nearly mowing him down.

“What is the meaning of this, miss, and to whom do you refer?” George, Olivia saw, could barely contain himself before the sprite now in his foyer.

“My sister, Katie Rose O’Reilly. I know she’s here and you daren’t deny it!”

Despite the impropriety of it all, Olivia Wakefield squirmed between them.

“Maureen! I’m so glad you came.” Olivia pulled the irate young woman into the hallway. “George, please take Miss O’Reilly’s coat. She’ll be staying to tea.”

“Where is she? Where’s Katie Rose?” Maureen demanded shrilly.

“Please, lower your voice,” Olivia whispered. “Katie Rose is in the drawing room, with the ladies from our circle, having tea.” She smiled and confided, “I think she’s having the time of her life—she’s certainly the center of attention.”

At that moment Katie Rose’s tinkling laughter rang beyond the door. Maureen visibly perked her ears toward the sound but demanded, “Is Mr. Meitland here?” Her green eyes were startlingly bright and wide.

“Why, no. He’s away on business, and this, after all, is a ladies’ circle.” Olivia felt a little perturbed.
Why should she want Drake?
But her assurance that Drake was not there seemed to calm the trembling creature before her. At least she allowed Olivia to draw her into the hallway and take her coat.

“I’m sorry, Miss—”

“Olivia, please.” Olivia reached for her arm.

“I beg pardon for burstin’ in on you like this, but I’d no idea Katie Rose had accepted. I told her to decline.”

“Well, she did—decline, I mean. But I’m so glad she changed her mind at the last moment. I’m so glad you both did.”

“But I didn’t . . . I . . .” Maureen looked desperate, frustrated, and very much like she was going to cry, as though she had been crying.

“It’s a blustery day, I know,” Olivia soothed. “Would you care to freshen up before coming in to join us?”

Maureen looked miserably self-conscious as she smoothed her skirt and tugged the cuffs of her crumpled waist. “No, I don’t want to join you. I want Katie Rose—”

“Come with me.” Olivia pulled her guest into her sister’s downstairs powder room and opened a cupboard. She took out a brush, a comb, and a porcelain dish of hairpins. “Dorothy keeps these handy for her guests. You never know what the weather will be, and it does so wreak havoc with our hair.”

But Maureen’s hands trembled as she glanced frantically around the room, and Olivia knew the poor creature was very near the end of her tether.