Maid to Match (24 page)

Tillie carried bucket and brush to the first landing of the grand staircase. Crouching onto her knees, she began to scrub the limestone steps which protruded from the wall in a vast spiral that started on the main floor and continued clear up to the top floor.

Smartly polished boots stopped next to her. “What’s going on between you and Mack?”

She didn’t have to look up to recognize her brother’s voice. Fortunately, no one else was around to hear the question. The hour was still early and the other maids had made their way to rooms well out of hearing.

“Nothing is happening,” she said. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because where there’s smoke . . .”

“Well, believe me. There’s no fire.”

“Not from where I’m standing. The two of you can’t get within yards of each other without sparks flying. Now, what’s going on?”

She dipped her brush into the water and moved down one step.

He squatted to better see her, his knees popping. “Is he bothering you, Till?”

You have no idea
. Swiping a piece of hair from her face, she sat back. Allan’s dark eyes didn’t hold censure like Mama’s, but concern. Trust. Affection.

She glanced around. “I’m in love with him,” she whispered.

There. She’d said it out loud. But it didn’t change anything. Not her sense of responsibility. Nor her dreams. And certainly not the rules about the marital status of house servants.

Allan’s brows lifted a fraction. “Does he love you?”

She nodded.

“Are you going to quit?”

Swallowing, she shook her head.

Flipping the tails of his jacket behind him, he sat on the landing – something he never, ever did while on duty – showing her just exactly how concerned he was.

“Why won’t you quit?” he asked.

“You, of all people, should know.”

“Humor me.”

“I’m up for lady’s maid.”

“A position which, as I’ve said before, will rob you of your youth.”

She huffed. “According to Mama, so does being a wife.”

“Mama said that?” His voice rose in surprise.

“Not in so many words, but yes.”

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean it. So if you really do love Mack, I say you quit and marry the man.”

Tempting as it sounded, she shook her head. “I need the position, Allan. I need it so I can help put food on our family’s table. I mean, how many more things can Mr. Vanderbilt possibly want his insignia painted on? What if he runs out of them? What if Pa’s joints start getting stiff all the time instead of just during the cold weather?”

He frowned. “So you’re giving up the man you love on the chance that Pa might get arthritis and Mr. Vanderbilt might run out of . . .
things
?”

“Don’t forget Mama,” she added. “She’s got all her hopes pinned on me becoming a lady’s maid and she’s worked so hard.”

“Exactly.
She’s
worked hard. But she loves you, Till. She wouldn’t want you to give up a lifetime of love for a lifetime of servitude.”

She raised a brow.

“Okay. Maybe she would. But Pa wouldn’t. He’d be the first to say Ma’s happiness ought to come from her family and her Lord. Not from trying to live vicariously through you.

And it’s not always about the position we hold or the money we make.”

Sighing, she returned to her scrubbing. “It’s not just Mama.”

“I didn’t think so. What is it really?”

“I want to do the kinds of things Mrs. Vanderbilt does.”

He crossed his arms. “You want to live above your station?”

“No. I want to make something of my life. The Vanderbilts are so charitable. If I’m lady’s maid, I can help those Mrs. Vanderbilt helps and also take on projects of my own. Like Sloop’s orphanage or something.”

Allan shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “You’re eighteen, Till. Do you really think God expects – ?”

A noise from around the corner had Allan jumping to his feet. “We’ll finish this later,” he whispered, then hurried down the stairs, leaving her with no more answers than she had before.

CHAPTER
Twenty-two

Smoothing her apron, Tillie fluffed the ruffles on her shoulder straps and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The Oak Sitting Room connecting Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt’s bedrooms was used as a private area for the couple. Tillie had never been inside it before. She tried not to gawk at the repeating coats of arms bordering the ceiling, the carved oak paneling, and the stately furnishings.

Mrs. Vanderbilt looked up from a sturdy library table covered with papers, ledgers, and books. A bronze statue of a buck foraging for food sat on its corner.

“Tillie.” Putting down her pen, she leaned back in her chair, her brown hair arranged in an elegant donutlike shape with a bun in the middle. “It’s nice to see you.”

Tillie was struck again by how young she was. A good ten years younger than the master and only a handful of years older than herself. She couldn’t imagine becoming mistress of a manor like Biltmore at the ripe age of twenty-five.

“Ma’am.”

“I was very pleased with the baskets you put together. The women were quite happy with them, though it took some finesse to convince them they were gifts and not charity. For a moment I was afraid they’d refuse them outright.”

Tillie had no idea how to respond, so she remained silent.

Mrs. Vanderbilt tilted her head. “I also wanted to thank you for being so patient with Miss DePriest. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

Tillie felt her cheeks warm. “Oh no, ma’am. I was happy to do it. And the baskets, too.”

A shadow of a smile crossed Mrs. Vanderbilt’s face, and then she rummaged through the papers on her desk. “I realize it’s only mid-October, but I feel we need to go ahead and begin a project I had in mind.”

Tillie started to clasp her hands, then remembered to keep them by her sides.

“Here we are.” Mrs. Vanderbilt pulled several pieces of paper from a pile on her left. “Mr. Vanderbilt and I plan to invite our estate workers and their families to the Banquet Hall on Christmas Day. As part of the celebration, we are going to give each child a toy.”

Tillie blinked in surprise. “Every single one?”

She nodded. “Every single one. I have completed all my visits and have a census of every child, their names and ages and what toy I think they would enjoy.” She extended the list.

Accepting the papers, Tillie glanced at them. A beautiful script neatly delineated names of families and each child within them. Beside the children’s names and ages were specific toys. Marbles, tin penny whistles, kaleidoscopes, blocks, flower presses, kazoos, and many, many more.

Thumbing through the pages, she silently added up the small fortune the list represented. She stalled on the
R
s.

Reese, Herbert and Christine.

Emblem painter.

Allan (22) – Head Footman

Matilda (Tillie, 18) – Head Parlormaid

Gertrude (Gussie, 11) – Sateen Parasol

Richard (Ricky, 10) – Wooden Animals

Walter (9) – Also Wooden Animals

Martha (5) – Finger Puppets

Ennis (4) – Stick Horse

She reread the list. The gifts were perfect. Mrs. Vanderbilt hadn’t just jotted down random toys. She’d obviously visited with each of Tillie’s brothers and sisters. Otherwise, she never would have been able to pick out such ideal presents.

She lifted her gaze to Mrs. Vanderbilt. “I don’t know what to say, ma’am. It’ll be the best Christmas we’ve ever had. Thank you.”

She smiled. “I’d like you to go to Asheville and purchase the toys, wrap them, and label them, and when it comes time, place them under the tree.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Good. You’ll need an early start, and the wagon to carry everything. I’ll have Mrs. Winter arrange for Earl to drive you this time and the useful man to escort and carry for you.”

Tillie quickly squelched her alarm at being with Mack for an entire day, but some of her apprehension must have shown, because Mrs. Vanderbilt immediately crinkled her brows.

“Oh dear. I forgot you suffer from carriage sickness. Would you like me to have Lucy do this instead?”

“No, no, ma’am. The wagon will be no problem, and I’ve found that if I have a ginger cookie or two, it helps tremendously.”

“Well then, we’ll have Cook prepare a tin to take with you.” She smiled. “You’ll have to hide them from the men, though, or they might all disappear.”

Tillie answered her smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to keep some back.”

“Excellent. You may take the list with you so you can familiarize yourself with it. If you have any questions or think I might need to consider a different toy for one of the children, just let Mrs. Winter know.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure they’ll all be wonderful.”

“Thank you, Tillie. You’re excused.”

Tillie quietly closed the door, then hugged the papers to her. This time she’d be on the project from beginning to end. From the purchasing of the toys, to putting them under the tree, to being in attendance when they were given out.

The only snag was spending the day with Mack. She’d managed to either avoid him completely or surround herself with others when he was present. Still, Earl would be going with them. Hopefully that would diffuse any intimacy which might arise.

Mack sat in the back of the green farm wagon watching Earl – charm oozing from every pore – entertain Tillie. He knew his brother didn’t mean anything by it. He treated all women the same, regardless of size, shape, or age.

And he didn’t think Tillie’s head had been turned. She’d been working with Earl since Biltmore had opened. If she hadn’t fallen for him in all that time, she wasn’t likely to now.

He shifted his weight on the uneven boards. So why was he getting more and more angry as each moment passed? He’d thought about horning in on the wagon seat, but there was barely enough room for two people. There was no way it could hold three. Which meant somebody had to ride in the back. With Earl the designated coachman and Tillie a female, it wasn’t even up for discussion.

Earl ran over a rut, causing Tillie to sway and Mack to be jarred off the bed and slammed back down. He glared at Earl’s back, but his brother was busy flirting with Tillie and hadn’t noticed.

At least they’d be in Asheville soon. He could see the outline of the town nestled in a valley of ravaged forests, which had been logged so thoroughly there was scarcely a tree left. He only hoped his grandpa wasn’t there. No telling what he’d say if he found Mack riding in the bed while a woman rode up front.

He eyed her from behind. She was wearing the same outfit she’d worn last time, but had covered it up with a jacket which nipped in at her waist and flared out at her hips. She’d twisted up her hair in some kind of female poof anchored with a straw hat.

These last few weeks she’d all but ignored him. He wondered again what she’d been doing at the orphanage on Sunday. He’d rushed to town on his day off in order to get Ora Lou set up in her boardinghouse. What a debacle that had turned out to be. After all the saving he’d done and the pestering he’d put up with from her, the last thing he’d expected was resistance.

But her fear for Irene was real. Real enough to give up her longed-for freedom. Fortunately, it hadn’t come to that. As soon as he’d managed to settle her down, introduce her to the landlord, and show her where her new job was, he’d hightailed it back to Biltmore just in time for the barn gathering. Only Tillie wasn’t there.

At first he’d thought she was sick, for she never missed the dances. But Allan had merely shrugged and said she’d wanted to read instead.

Mack knew better. It wasn’t a book that kept her away – it was he himself and those infernal parlor games.

He sighed. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him today. And once he had her alone, he’d find out what was what. But Earl never left them alone. Not even to wet his whistle. He was enjoying the Christmas shopping as much as she was.

“Hey, look at this, Till!” Earl picked up a stereoscope and slipped a picture card into its brackets.

She peeked through the lenses. “Oh, my word!”

Earl waved Mack over. “Take a look. It’s some fellow in the Dells of Wisconsin leaping across a nine-foot chasm, sixty feet up.”

Mack joined them and the three passed each other cards of Niagara Falls, New York Harbor, the Yosemite Valley, and a banana plantation in Hawaii.

“Hey, here’s one of you, Tillie.” Chuckling, Earl handed her a photo of a woman leaning over a fence, hand on her stomach, looking extremely ill.

Tillie gave him a pointed look. “Very funny.”

Others showed a young girl giving a cat a haircut, an outdoor painter accidentally swiping his brush across a man in a window, and a tightrope walker who’d done an act outside a courthouse in 1876. They perused a collection of children and adults in humorous predicaments, laughing at their preposterousness.

A touch of mischief in his eye, Earl dropped another card into place and passed the viewer to Tillie.

She jerked her head back, cheeks turning bright, eyes colliding with Mack’s.

He took the stereoscope. The card was entitled “Texas Train Robber Holding Up a Train.” But the only train the man held up was the train of a woman’s gown, her ankles and calves clearly showing beneath.