The Maid's Quarters (2 page)

“Oh, a ham. We’ve not had any ham for so long.”

“A ham it is,” Alice said, and kissed her mother’s cheek.

Maeve looked up at her. “Your da is coming by today. I told
him to. I will feed him, Alice, and if you’d rather not bring us the groceries
because of that, then so be it.”

Alice had felt small and harsh as she knelt down beside her
mother to say her prayers the night before. Gerald Porterman had used her
mother cruelly, and yet she found it in her heart to make sure he was fed and
had a roof over his head in his time of need. Alice was not sure she could be
so forgiving or so kind, but she knew her mother should not be forced to choose
between her conscience and feeding her son. And perhaps she should let go of
some of the anger she’d felt for her father all of her life. Her resentment did
not change his behavior but only served to make herself miserable with tension
and hatred when she thought too long about him.
What was the point?
she thought.

“Feed him, Ma. It is your food to do with as you please, and
it would be cruel to do otherwise seeing he is so sick,” Alice said.

Maeve nodded with a wobbling smile. “It would be cruel, and
it would be no example for you and Jimmy.”

Alice returned with the groceries and her mother
oohed
and
aahed
and convinced Jimmy to sit up in a chair near where she would
mix and knead her dough. Alice set out to the Courthouse and nearly lost her
courage as all the well-dressed folks filed in and out of its massive wooden
doors. She looked down at herself and realized she looked every bit as neat and
tidy, and even fashionable, as many of the women she saw. She straightened her
back, went inside, and looked for the Registry of Deeds.

“What can I help you with, ma’am?” the man behind the counter
asked.

“I’d like to see the deeds that Mr. Albert Donahue owns,”
she said.

“It don’t work like that,” he replied, and swept a hand
behind him to the rows and stacks of massive wooden filing drawers. “It’s
organized by address, not owner.”

 
“I’d like to see
the deed for 604 Cherry Street then.”

“Wait here,” he grumbled.

Alice watched the man walk away and sniffed. It smelled like
dust and old books and was chilly to boot. Ten minutes later the clerk came back
with the deed for 604 Cherry Street, owned by Albert Donahue. She scribbled his
address on paper she’d brought with her and thanked the clerk.

Two streetcars later, Alice stopped on the sidewalk in front
of a large brick home. It was located in a well-to-do area, near the Back Bay,
full of three- and four-story homes with live-in servants. She watched the
nannies and their charges, bundled up against the cold in large wheeled
strollers, make their way up and down the street, and men in heavy coats with
long aprons beneath sweeping sidewalks. Alice knew if she walked to the back,
she would see carriage houses and deliveries being made from grocers, butchers,
dressmakers, and the like.

Alice very nearly went to the back door, sure of her ability
to manage a cook or a gardener. But she did not have business with the
housekeeper or the butler. She had business with Mr. Albert Donahue, or at the
very least his secretary. She climbed the steps to the front door and lifted
the knocker. It was opened almost immediately by a dour-faced man.

“May I help you?” he said.

Alice nearly lost her voice and courage. But if the butler
was capable of keeping her at arm’s length, how would she ever get her family
home back? She cleared her throat. “I need to speak to Mr. Albert Donahue. My
name is Alice Porterman.”

The butler’s bushy brows rose. “And you have an appointment,
miss?”

“I do not.”

“Anyone wishing to speak to Mr. Donahue has an appointment.”

“And who do I see to get such an appointment?”

“Mr. Vickers, his secretary. I’m sorry, he is not in but,
but—Where are you going? You cannot come into this house!”

Alice swept by him and seated herself on a settee inside the
door. “I will wait here until Mr. Vickers arrives, unless you would prefer me
to wait in his office.”

“Certainly not. I can’t just let a complete stranger make
herself at home in Mr. Vickers’s office.”

“Then I will be satisfied to wait here,” Alice said, as she
noticed a young man hovering near the staircase. She nodded toward him.
“Someone is looking for you.”

The butler turned and looked back at her openmouthed. But he
did not call to someone to have her removed. Alice studied the fine artwork on
the walls and the marble floors and the beautiful wooden staircase to avoid
looking at him. The butler took another look at her and walked to where the
young man stood. After a long hour, the front door opened again, letting in a
cold breeze and a tall, thin man.

The man looked at her and walked directly to the butler.
They conferred and turned and stared at her for a moment. The man walked off
toward the back portion of the house, and the butler came to her.

“That is Mr. Vickers,” he said. “He will see you at three
o’clock.”

“Three o’clock? That is four hours from now!”

The butler opened the door. “That is the only available time
he has.”

“Then I will stay here and wait for my appointment.” Alice
lifted her chin and folded her hands in her lap.

 
“You cannot sit
in Mr. Donahue’s foyer until then,” the butler said. “Come back when it is time
for your appointment.”

Alice looked up at him. “It took me two streetcars to get
here. By the time I got home, I would need to turn around and come back and
would have wasted four fares in doing so. Thank you, but I prefer to stay
here.”

The butler opened his mouth and then closed it and walked
away. Alice watched the comings and goings of the house, and it seemed as
routine as she was accustomed to. Young men on ladders wiping the gas lamp globes
and young women dusting, all while one woman was arranging a massive display of
flowers on a large round, marble table in the center of the foyer, its
intricately carved wooden legs shining from polish.

Alice nodded off briefly, jerked awake, and looked around
hurriedly to see if anyone had seen her head bob and her chin hit her chest.
Then a young maid in a black uniform with a stiff white apron over it came
toward her.

“Mr. Higgins said I was to offer you a glass of water and
see if you needed the necessary, miss,” she said with a smile.

Alice took the water from the maid. “Mr. Higgins is the
butler?”

“Yes, miss.”

“This is very kind of him. Please tell him I said thank
you.”

At fifty-eight minutes past two o’clock, Mr. Higgins came
for her. “Miss? If you will follow me.”

Alice followed the butler down a long corridor until he
opened a door and allowed her to precede him inside. “Miss Porterman to see
you, Mr. Vickers.”

“Thank you, Higgins,” the man said, without looking up.

Alice stood still at the doorway waiting for some
acknowledgment that she was to come in the room. Finally, Mr. Vickers spoke.

“Do you intend to stand there for the next four hours as you
have sat in the entranceway for the last four?”

Alice knew his type. Men who took satisfaction in making those
beneath them squirm, especially women. She took a moment considering him, and
making him wait for her to speak. “I am here to make an appointment with Mr.
Donahue. Mr. Higgins said you make the schedule.”

“What is this about?”

“I would prefer to speak to Mr. Donahue,” she said.

“If you don’t tell me, you’re never going to speak to Mr.
Donahue, and I’m a very busy man.”

“Maeve Porterman is my ma and has lived at 604 Cherry Street
for nigh on twenty years. First renting from Mr. Jenkins and most recently—”

“I am well aware that Mr. Donahue owns 604 Cherry Street.
Get on with it.”

Alice gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. “She was two
dollars short on the rent for this month and told Mr. Nyturn she would pay him
one dollar a week before months’ end, and he threw her and my sickly brother
out. Out into the cold winter! I went to pay Mr. Nyturn and he said the house
has already been rented. All of my ma’s things are still there and the locks
have been changed!”

“Whatever misconceptions you have concerning the contract
your mother signed when Mr. Donahue purchased the house is not my problem. Mr.
Donahue is a business person. Not a church or a charity. Apply there if you are
unable to meet your obligations.”

“She has lived there and paid rent faithfully and on time
for all those years,” Alice said. “Fourteen days late in twenty years is hardly
a failure to meet obligations.”

“Good day,” he said dismissively, and looked down at the
open ledger on his desk. “Higgins will see you out.”

Angry tears formed in Alice’s eyes, and she marched forward
and slammed her fist down on Vickers’s desk. “How dare you!” she shouted. “How
dare you, you odious, selfish man! I demand to see Mr. Donahue.”

Vickers stood and pointed to the door. “Out! Get out before I
call the police and have you removed!”

“I will not!” Alice cried, and leaned across the desk. “I
demand to see Mr. Donahue and see for myself if he is as horrible a person as
you say he is!”

Vickers went to the door and opened it. “Higgins! Get the
police. I’ve an insane woman in my office who won’t leave. She may be
dangerous.”

“I am not insane, Mr. Vickers! I am quite sane, but I am
furious that you refuse even now to discuss the matter. How am I to get my ma’s
things? My brother’s medicine is still in the house and it is very costly, and
you will not let me have it?”

“What is the shouting all about?”

Alice turned to the corner of the room where a tall, younger
man had appeared through a doorway behind Vickers’s desk that she had not
noticed at first. He stood in the shadows and Vickers hurried toward him.

“Be very careful, sir. I have called for the police, but
this woman is unstable and there is no predicting what she will do next.”

“I am not unstable!”

“Shhh,” the man said. “There is no need for either of you to
shout.”

Vickers proceeded to tell the man that she was from a family
of moochers who had come to badger him to allow them to live rent free and that
he had told her that was impossible but now she refused to leave. Tears filled
Alice’s eyes as Vickers continued to malign her. It was not true. None of it.
The Portermans had always paid their way, even when it was difficult to do so. The
tall man was listening to Vickers, and it occurred to her that no one was going
to believe her. This was a fool’s errand she was on. She could make better use
of her time looking for a new house for Ma and Jimmy and forget about their
furniture and kitchen goods that had been passed down from Ma’s mother. Quilts
and rockers could be bought or made, and Alice had better set her sights to the
future and forget about the past and this blight on her family name. She
wondered briefly if other landlords would refuse to rent to them because of
this incident.

Alice opened her purse and pulled out two dollars. She laid
the bills on Mr. Vickers’s desk and walked to the door. She was light-headed,
she supposed from shouting and not having had anything to eat since early that
morning. It was time to move on, although she dreaded telling her mother they
would be unable to get in their house to get their belongings.

Mr. Vickers shouted at her. “You there. Stop! The police are
coming for you.”

Alice turned back. “You wanted me to leave. I am leaving.”

“Now see here,” Vickers started.

Alice turned as a hand touched her elbow. It was the tall
younger man.

“Please,” Alice said, and put a hand on the doorjamb to
steady herself. “I am begging you. I have a sick brother and a ma who needs me.
I came here to speak to Mr. Donahue, but it is clear that I will be unable to
talk to him. Please. Just let me leave. It will be dark before I’m off the last
streetcar.”

“I am Mr. Donahue, miss. What is it you would like to speak
to me about?”

“You are Mr. Donahue?” Alice had in her mind a picture of an
older man, fat as he was high, with a sweating bald head. This man looked
nothing like what she’d imagined. He was tall, with neatly trimmed dark hair
and brilliant blue eyes. He wore a black suit with a gray waistcoat and spoke
softly.

“I am Mr. Donahue. Won’t you sit down, Miss . . .”

“Porterman. Miss Alice Porterman.”

“This is unwise, Mr. Donahue,” Vickers said. “Let me handle
this. You are unaccustomed to dealing with riffraff.”

Mr. Donahue spoke but did not turn his face from Alice. “I
think
riffraff
is an excessively
strong word to use for a well-dressed young woman who is clearly not carrying
off the silver, Mr. Vickers. I will speak to Miss Porterman in my office.
Please ask Higgins to come there straightaway and Mrs. Erskine as well.”

Mr. Vickers stared at Alice as he left the room, and she
felt a shiver trail down her back. Mr. Donahue motioned to her to follow him
into the next room. She was seated in a chair near a roaring fire. Higgins
arrived and was directed to have tea and coffee delivered. She was introduced
to the head housekeeper, Mrs. Erskine, whom Mr. Donahue asked to stay for
propriety’s sake as Miss Porterman was unescorted. Higgins returned with tea
and coffee, and Mr. Donahue sat down opposite Alice’s chair.

“Higgins has told me you waited in the foyer since this
morning. Are you hungry?”

Alice hated to feel any kindness or show pleasant manners toward
this man as he was the one who’d thrown out her brother and her ma from their
home. But she
was
starved and had finished
her tea in a hurry. And he was being solicitous, handing her into her seat,
pouring her tea, fetching the housekeeper to avoid any impropriety, and she
just a maid, and paying rapt attention to her when she spoke. He looked at her,
even now, with a quiet, reserved intensity, matching the soothing sound of his
deep, but soft, voice. Alice reminded herself that he was also the one who employed
Mr. Nyturn and Mr. Vickers.