She swallowed. Regardless of what Mack said, she knew the tasks she performed on Mrs. Vanderbilt’s behalf were worthy and important. That they would please and honor God.
So why was she so miserable? So empty?
Could it be that just because there was a door of opportunity, it didn’t necessarily mean it was God’s will for her to step through it? Had she allowed favorable circumstances and the chance for a better position to drag her places God had not designed for her?
She slowly lowered herself onto the stool.
“He calls his own sheep by name . . . he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.”
Swiping her eyes, she returned the animals to the hatch, lingering over each before carefully stowing them away.
I’m listening, Lord. Call to me. Just like the sheep. Just like these animals that you called to the ark. Call to me and I will follow.
Asheville Special
Hundreds of employees of Vanderbilt’s estate were given a most elaborate Christmas entertainment in the banquet hall of Biltmore House. In the center of the hall was the largest Fraser fir to be found on the estate, a mammoth tree that towered to the ceiling of the immense room. It was lighted by innumerable wax tapers and glittered with tinsel.
Beneath the Christmas tree were stacked presents of every conceivable nature. There was a gift for every person who worked or lived on the estate. Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt, with their own hands, distributed gifts to the assembled guests and wished all a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Tillie smiled. The article didn’t come close to capturing yesterday’s excitement. The expression on the children’s faces as they received an apple and an orange, then opened their gift. The delight of the estate workers, some of whom had never set foot inside the house. The staff’s astonishment at the envelope containing a ten-dollar bonus from Mr. Vanderbilt. The children’s awe at his reading of A Christmas Carol in front of the crackling fire.
As much as she had enjoyed the day, though, her mind had continued to drift to Mack and the children at the orphanage. How had they spent their Christmas? Had anyone thought to provide them with apples?
She recalled Ricky’s and Walter’s squeals when they’d unwrapped their Noah’s ark. If only Mack had been able to see them at that moment.
What had Mack’s little brothers opened? she wondered. It was, after all, their first Christmas without their mother. Without their family.
“Tillie?”
Putting the newspaper back on the table of the servants’ hall, she looked up.
A hint of a smile touched the corners of Mrs. Winter’s lips. “Mrs. Vanderbilt would like to see you in her sitting room.”
Tillie’s eyes went automatically to the telephone that was normally used when the housekeeper summoned. It hadn’t rung. Which meant that, for whatever reason, Mrs. Winter wanted to deliver the message personally.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tillie tried to keep a serene expression. This was her time off – a mere two hours. She’d hoped to have a cup of tea and rest her feet.
Moving past the housekeeper, she headed to the stairs. Moments later, she knocked on the door of the Oak Sitting Room.
“Come in.”
Tillie approached the library table Mrs. Vanderbilt worked behind. After a moment, the mistress put her pen in the holder. “Thank you for coming.”
“It was no trouble, ma’am.”
She smiled. “The gifts were a wonderful success, I thought. Didn’t you?”
“The children loved them, ma’am. My brothers and sisters chattered and played all evening when we returned home. They’ll not forget the day for a long time to come.”
“And it was in no small measure because of you.”
A spurt of pleasure rushed through her. “I really enjoyed it, ma’am.”
“I did, too.” She leaned onto the table. “I called you in because Bénédicte will be leaving for France next week and it is time I come to a decision. It hasn’t been easy, but I must say you have been quick to learn my likes and dislikes, eager to please, thorough in every task I’ve assigned, proficient with hair and wardrobe, and, well, I just simply like you.” She smiled again. “I’d like you to be my lady’s maid.”
Such simple words. Words Tillie had longed to hear. Words that would change her life forever were she to simply answer yes.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“I think we’re going to get along very well. Congratulations.”
Tillie placed a hand against her waist, then covered it with her other hand. “Mrs. Vanderbilt, I . . . I don’t know how to say this, but . . .”
Mrs. Vanderbilt tilted her head, giving Tillie time to formulate her words.
“I’m afraid I can’t accept.”
Her lips parted. “Did you not find the job to your liking?”
“No, no. It wasn’t that at all. It’s just . . .” She looked down, then back up and took a deep breath. “The truth is, I’ve decided to go work at Sloop’s orphanage. Except it isn’t Mr. Sloop’s anymore, of course. It’s Mack’s. But he’s trying to handle it all by himself and the girls need someone to teach them some domestic skills and he certainly can’t do that. And you should see the condition of the place. It’s a mess inside and there’s only one cook, who’s a bit unimaginative. There’s no garden. No henhouse. No cows. No – ”
Mrs. Vanderbilt held up her hand, palm out. “I thought Mack was only an interim director. I thought he had to be married to stay on.”
Tillie felt her cheeks warm.
Mrs. Vanderbilt raised her brows. “Are you and Mack . . . ?”
Tillie swallowed. “I love him, ma’am.”
“Good heavens.” She fell back against her chair. “Why had I not heard of this?”
Tillie moistened her lips. “I’ve been fighting it, ma’am. As a matter of fact, I haven’t even discussed any of this with him. But I plan to. Just as soon as I can be released from my duties here.”
Placing an elbow on the armrest, Mrs. Vanderbilt curled her fingers against her mouth. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”
“About Mack and me?” she squeaked.
A slight smile. “About the orphanage.”
Tillie slipped in the back door, knowing Mama would have already tucked the children in for the night. The kitchen was dark, other than a soft glow radiating from the last of the burning embers in the fireplace. Retrieving a candle from the mantel, she lit it, then made her way upstairs.
All was quiet except for the soft murmurings of her parents from inside their bedroom. Light seeped beneath their closed door, touching Tillie’s hem as she softly knocked.
Her father opened the door, hooking his suspenders up over his long underwear. Surprise touched his face. “Tillie-girl! What are you doing here?”
“I know it’s late, Pa, but I needed to talk to Mama. And to you, too.”
He widened the door, a frown beginning to form between his brows. “Everything all right?”
Instead of answering, she stepped inside the cozy warmth of a room she’d always associated with love and heartache. For it was this room her parents always retreated to when they needed privacy with one of their children. Whether it was for comforting a broken heart or scolding a misdeed or discussing things which were too private to be discussed elsewhere, this was the room it was done in. Tonight would be no different.
Woodsmoke touched the air and her nose, drawing her gaze to the robust fire, whose heat she could already feel. The oak bed had been turned down, the brown, red, and blue spread she and Mama had crocheted folded neatly at its foot. Her father’s gifted hand had painted intricate scrolls on the headboard, matching dresser, and vanity.
Mama put her brush down and slowly stood. Her long hair hadn’t thinned a bit since the days when Tillie used to dress it, though its deep brown had been frosted with threads of gray. “They’ve made a decision.”
&nbs
p; Tillie nodded.
Mama scanned her face, then gripped the top of the vanity. “They gave it to Lucy?” Her voice was thin and rose in disbelief.
Tillie nodded.
“No!” Mama pressed a fist to her chest, causing her white nightdress to bow out. “Why? I was so sure!”
It would be so easy to let her mother assume Lucy had been their first choice. No one but Allan and Dixie knew it had even been offered to Tillie. But she didn’t want Mama to think it was due to lack of training or something she had or hadn’t done. Mama had worked too hard to be lied to now.
Pa closed the door. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
Tillie offered him a fleeting smile, then returned her attention to her mother. “Actually, Mrs. Vanderbilt offered me the position first, but I didn’t accept it.”
Mama pulled back. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’d have accepted it if you’d been offered it.”
“No, Mama. I was awarded the job, but I didn’t take it.”
She shook her head. “You’re not making sense.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m leaving Biltmore. I’m leaving service altogether.”
Color draining from her face, Mama sucked in her breath.
“It’s him. It’s that useful man, Mack Danver. He’s compromised you, hasn’t he? Oh, Tillie, how could you? I told you to stay away from him.”
“I love him.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. We’ve been over this.” She looked at Pa, telegraphing her distress.
He cleared his throat. “Are you in a family way, girl?”
“No! No, nothing like that. I just needed to admit to myself that I loved him. And not only that, but I’ve had questions about where I should be serving. Here at Biltmore or in the orphanage with Mack.”
“You are to be serving at Biltmore,” Mama snapped. “Never was anything more obvious. We’ve trained you for the service your whole entire life, and who does God drop out of the sky and into our backyard but George Washington Vanderbilt III! And does he build some summer getaway in town? No. He builds a castle. A castle. The only thing it lacked was a princess.”
“Mama, I know you thought – ”
“I was beside myself when his new bride had some foreign French maid, and I have been on my knees daily. Daily! And then – poof – the French maid decides to leave. Things like that don’t just happen, Tillie. God did that. He heard my cries and He answered my prayers, and you are going to throw all that back at Him by running off with this . . . this backwoodsman?”
“Christine – ” Papa began.
“Shut up, Herbert, and let the girl speak for herself.”
Tillie took a fortifying breath. “It isn’t just because of Mack.”
“Of course it’s because of him. What else could it possibly be?”
“Me, Mama. It’s me. I realized I was equating money and status with achieving my calling. When all I really need to do is serve God, no matter what my income, no matter what my status, no matter where He takes me. And if that means leaving Biltmore, then I leave Biltmore.”
“For Hazel Creek?” She pointed toward the Unakas. “You’ll be so busy doing drudgery you’ll be the one needing charity, not the other way around. You cannot convince me God wants that for you.”
“I wouldn’t consider it drudgery, but even still, I’ve no plans at the moment to go to the Unakas.”
Pa cleared his throat. “Where is it you’re going, honey?”
“I’m going to work in the orphanage. I’m going to teach the girls domestic science.”
“Oh, for mercy’s sake.” Mama whirled around and faced the back wall, propping her hands on her waist.
Tillie turned pleading eyes to her father. “I long to know the children. I think about them all the time. I think of all I can do for them.”
“Have you prayed about this?” he asked.
“More than you know. And the more I prayed, the more certain I became.”
Mama humphed, her back still turned.
“And Mack?” Pa asked. “If he weren’t at the orphanage, would you still want to go?”
“I would, though I love him, Pa. So much it hurts, deep in here.” She pressed a fist up under her breasts.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he looked at the floor. “It’s an awful lot for your mother to take in all at once.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I suppose I should have seen it coming, and maybe I did. But I fought it so much. I didn’t want to believe it.”
“And now?”
Tears filled her eyes, not of sorrow but of amazement and joy. “I’m going to marry him, Pa. Can you imagine? Me? A married woman?” She shook her head in wonder. “I never even thought to have any children, but now, why, I could be a mother by this time next year.”
Mama spun around, the veins at her temples bulging. “Well, children aren’t all they’re purported to be, Matilda. You give and give and give of yourself and in return you get nothing. Nothing but disappointment, that is.”
Tillie gasped.
Papa slashed a hand through the air. “Enough.” He gave Tillie a grief-stricken look. “She didn’t mean that. She’s just upset.”
Her tears of joy quickly transformed into shock and hurt. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I am. Not for this new life I’m embarking on, but for shattering your dreams. They were mine, too. But I’ve been given something even better. Can you not see it?”
Mama said nothing, her face as hard as flint.
Pa slipped an arm around Tillie’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Of course we do, girl. But this has kinda taken the wind out of her sails. So maybe you better let me and Mama be alone now.”
Devastated, she nodded. “I’m sorry, Pa. I’m so sorry.”
And though he pulled her close and whispered reassuring words, she knew it would take Mama a long time to recover.
CHAPTER
Thirty-one
Mack now understood why the Sloops had the children in bed by half past seven. It was only six and already he was exhausted. But at least he’d had Tillie’s help today.
He glanced across the kitchen. She wore an old apron over her skirt and never lit in one spot for too long. She’d set the little ones to clearing the table and wiping it down. Others swept the floor. Some older boys pumped water and hauled in wood. A few girls washed and dried the dishes.
“I can’t reach, Miss Tillie.” A tot of about five stood on tiptoes, trying to return a clean bowl to the shelf.
Mack swept the girl up, suspending her in the air. Squealing with laughter, she set the bowl in its proper place, then ran to fetch another one as soon as her feet touched the floor.
Tillie caught his eye and they shared a smile.
Her arrival that morning had surprised him. She’d not even attended her own church, All Saints in Biltmore Village, but had shown up at the orphanage first thing to help the girls dress for services here in Asheville.
Afterward she’d helped with dinner, then gathered the girls together for a rudimentary lesson in sewing. The younger ones learned to thread needles. The middle ones practiced simple stitches. The older ones stitched up a seam.
It had given him a chance to spend the afternoon alone with the boys. They pulled up rotten baseboards along the first-floor corridor, sawed and cut new ones, then hammered them in place. It took him four times as long as it would have if he’d done it alone. But the pride and sense of accomplishment the boys displayed along with a new sense of camaraderie was well worth the delay.
Tillie draped a drying cloth across a dowel, then reached behind her back to untie her apron. “All right, everyone, let’s gather in the great hall. Mr. Vanderbilt loaned us his copy of The Prince and the Pauper. Since we finished the dishes so quickly, we might have time to read two whole chapters before bed.”
The children scurried past Mack, all jabbering at once.
Tillie hung her apron on a peg, then turned, pushing a tendril of hair from her face. The sound of the children’s footfal
ls diminished into silence, leaving the two of them alone.
“You can’t mean to stay and read to them,” he said. “The sun will be setting soon.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“I do. I don’t want you walking back to Biltmore in the dark.”
“Earl will be with me.”
“Earl?”
She nodded. “He said he had some business in town and he’d swing by here on his way out.”
Mack could just imagine what his “business” was but refrained from commenting. He followed her to the hall, settled into a chair to listen, and found himself as disappointed as the children when she finished the second chapter and announced bedtime.
An hour later, he stood in the parlor gazing out at the merry-go-round. He wondered if the lumberyard had any old pieces they could donate for a seesaw. It’d be a simple project for the boys to make.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
He looked over his shoulder. She stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed, her skirt wrinkled, her hair askew.
“Just thinking,” he said.
She clasped her hands together. “May I come in?”
“You don’t need an invitation.”
Strolling through the room, she centered an empty vase onto a crocheted doily. Ran her hand along the back of the gold and green settee. Angled a candlestick on the fireplace mantel.
“The girls are settled?” he asked.
“Mmmmm. The boys?”
“Yes.”
Picking up a poker, she started to stoke the fire.
He gently commandeered the instrument and did it for her, even though it didn’t need it. “Thank you for coming today. It was a tremendous help.”
“I enjoyed it very much. They’re wonderful children.”
“They are at that.” He stood, then propped the poker against the hearth.
She backed up, giving him room. “Anything new with the Sloops?”
“They signed a confession this week.”
“Both of them?”
He nodded. “Mrs. Sloop only took part in Irene’s tragedy, though. She wasn’t the one who beat or abused the girls – though she certainly knew about it.”