Maid to Match

  “During that time, Bénédicte will give you a tour of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s bedroom, closets, and drawers. It is important you memorize everything’s exact place and Mrs. Vanderbilt’s preferences.”

  She was still in the running. A thrill shot through her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Putting her glasses back on, the housekeeper made a notation on the paper in front of her. “That will be all.”

  CHAPTER

  Four

  Mack stepped out of the barbershop and ran a hand across his cheek, trying to adjust to the smoothness of his face. He planned to stop by the police chief’s office to see what could be done about the director of the orphanage, but he knew the chief wouldn’t take him seriously unless he cleaned up.

  First stop had been the bathhouse. His clothes had been so filthy, they’d insisted on delivering them to the laundry while he bathed, then loaning him clean ones until his could be scoured. It wasn’t that he enjoyed living in filth, it was just his employer didn’t allow the nighttime janitor to make use of the hotel’s wash bins or bathtubs. Not even a tin bath. And he didn’t have money to spare for a bathhouse. Every cent was put toward the day he could get Ora Lou out of Sloop’s orphanage.

  He took a deep breath. It felt great to be clean again. Cutting across Mule Alley and down Saloon Row, a buzzing fly pestered his ear while the smell of alcohol died on the breeze.

  A squatty brick laundry house sat at the end of the road. He thought it ironic to have a place like that tucked behind the town’s red light district. On second thought, maybe it was fitting. Sometimes you had to pass through the dirt before you could get yourself clean.

  Of course, the city fathers hadn’t meant anything profound about life. They just wanted to keep the billowing steam and drying clothes out on Asheville’s edges.

  He stepped through the laundry door, a blanket of wet heat immediately enveloping him. A whiff of lye and enough bleach on the air to sting his lungs momentarily cut off his oxygen. Rubbing boards, scrubbing brushes, and a big iron mangle took up most of the room. Just inside, a young woman worked tub and posser like a butter churn, her shoulders wide, her neck as thick as a man’s, while her granny reached for one of the irons heating on the hob.

  The washer girl paused, swiping a hand across her brow. “Earl? What’re you broguin’ about in the middle of the week fer? Ain’t you supposed to be up at the Big House?”

  Mack hesitated. It had been a long time since someone had mistaken him for Earl.

  She placed a fist on her waist. “Well, come on in and set ya a cheer. I been meaning to talk to you anyways. Something’s gotta be done about that sister of yourn over at Sloop’s.”

  Frowning, he closed the door. “My sister?”

  “Aw, don’t act like ya don’t know what I’m a’talking about.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t, actually.”

  She tsked. “I’d think a feller who’s as big on sweetheartin’ as you, he wouldn’t need things spelled out.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What things?”

  “Forbus Sloop’s a regular o’ Daphne Devine’s. I’m surprised you hadn’t bumped into him coming or going.”

  Mack didn’t question how she knew who visited the bawdy house. She had a clear shot of Miss Daphne’s place right through her side window. He glanced out at the white clapboard two-story, which had its shades drawn tight against the daylight.

  He knew his brother was a regular. That and his drinking ate up every bit of money he earned. If he’d just show a little restraint, there’d be money for Ora Lou to leave Sloop’s. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  “What do Sloop’s activities have to do with my sister?” he asked.

  Her red, cracked hands gripped the posser’s handle. “Well, I’ll tell ya. She’s gettin’ her womanly curves. And she’s living under that sorry feller’s roof while his wife turns a blind eye to his backhandin’.”

  His chest tightened. “Are you saying he’s harmed Ora Lou?”

  “I’m saying Ora Lou has a new bruise most ever’ week. What do you suppose it is that has Forbus in such a swivet that he’s gotta wear her out with his fists?”

  Mack didn’t hazard a guess. “How do you know this?”

  “I pick up and deliver Sloop’s laundry.” She pumped the posser in and out of the water.

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “Couple o’ months now. Though this last time the bruise was nastier ’n usual. Heard tell yer brother saw it and just about tore Forbus apart.”

  He scowled. “I did not.”

  Her churning stopped; then her eyes slowly widened. “Creation. You’re not Earl. You’re the brother. Land’s sake, what happened to you? You look just like Earl.”

  “I shaved, that’s all.” He rubbed his jaw again. “And I’m nothing like my brother.”

  She resumed her chore. “Does that mean you’re gonna do somethin’?”

  He nodded. “I imagine so. Just as soon as you give me my clothes.”

  Mack didn’t have much occasion to go to City Hall. He had an inborn distrust of authority types, and Captain –Hovious confirmed his misgivings.

  The two-hundred-fifty-pound officer leaned back in his chair, his paunch swelling over his belt. “Now, that’s the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me. Forbus Sloop was in here not two hours ago, making the same complaint about you. And he was perty near black and blue all over.”

  “He’s abusing the girls.”

  “I know Forbus myself. He’s a happily married man.”

  “Who spends more time at Daphne Devine’s than he does at home.”

  The captain grinned. “Don’t we all, brother. Don’t we all.”

  Mack tensed. “I want to talk to the chief.”

  Hovious picked something green from his teeth. “Well, the chief isn’t here. And even if he were, he’d say the same thing.

  This town owes a debt to Sloop, what with the way he’s taken in all those guttersnipes and cleaned them up. Before he came along, Asheville was overrun with the little beggars.”

  “I want someone to check on it anyway.”

  “Sorry, but we have more pressing matters to tend to.”

  Flexing his fists, Mack took a step forward.

  Hovious narrowed his eyes, then slowly rose to his feet. “I wouldn’t advise it, Danver.”

  The captain didn’t carry a firearm. None of the police did. They didn’t have to. They were armed with enough bulk to do what needed to be done. And if they required an edge, the clubs at their waists did the trick.

  Mack kept his hands to his sides. “You tell the chief that if my sister gets any more bruises, he’s gonna have trouble on his hands.”

  “And if she runs into a door or something?”

  “Then trouble won’t begin to describe it.” Mack slammed out of the office. If Ora Lou was to be helped, and the police wouldn’t cooperate, then he’d need to turn elsewhere. And wherever that was, it would have to involve a person of influence.

  The only person like that he knew was an old friend of his late father’s. A man who’d been president of the college Pa had taught at. The man who’d first brought Pa to Asheville. The man who was now Buncombe County’s state representative.

  Mack glanced at a giant clock on the wall of the rotunda. Maybe he could catch Leonard Vaughan before he left for the day. It had been years since he’d seen him, but he knew the man would give him an audience.

  He wandered the corridors of City Hall until he finally found a door with Vaughan’s name painted on the glass. He knocked, peering through the window. A man on the other side waved him in.

  The office smelled of books and cigars, but the giant oak desk was clear of papers, as if Vaughan had just cleaned it off in anticipation of going home.

  “May I help you, young man?” he asked, standing as he closed a drawer.

  The familiar face of his father’s dearest friend made Mack’s chest catch. He catalogued the changes the years had wrought ??
? a receding hairline, gray at the temples, wrinkles at his eyes. Mack tried to superimpose those changes onto the memory he had of his father, but could not.

  Mack whipped off his hat. “Hello, sir. Danver, here. It’s good to see you.”

  Vaughan stilled, lifting his brows. “Earl?”

  “Mackenzie, sir.”

  “Well, for the love of Peter.” He waved him into a seat and resumed his own. “I see you’ve exceeded even your father’s height. Is Earl the same?”

  “To the inch.”

  “Imagine that.” After a moment, his facial muscles sobered.

  “I’m sorry about your mother. I went to your homeplace the moment I returned from Europe and heard of her death, but it was abandoned. All I could find out was the family had been split up.”

  “I tried to keep us together, but Earl wouldn’t give up his job at Biltmore and come home. He’d acquired a taste for women and spirits. So the children were left to me.”

  “How old are they now?”

  “Ora Lou’s thirteen. The boys are nine, eight, and seven, respectively.” He sighed. “Not so little anymore, now that I think on it.”

  “So what happened?” Vaughan opened a drawer and offered Mack a cigar.

  Waving it off, he settled back in his chair. “Nothing changed for me, of course. Ever since Pa died I’d been using what I made at the hotel to put food on the table for Ma and the children. But with her gone, it was hard on Ora Lou.”

  “I guess she felt she should step into your mother’s shoes?”

  Mack nodded. “I couldn’t bring the boys with me to work, nor could I quit and help Ora Lou.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I decided to start working as many double shifts as I could. By the time I made it back up the mountain, Grandpa had moved into the cabin and told the boys they didn’t have to do any work. That’s what Ora Lou was for. And if she didn’t comply, he’d raise a hand to her.”

  “The devil you say.” Cutting the cap off his cigar, Vaughan clucked his tongue. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It was always his way.”

  Mack tightened his jaw. “Even still, Pa spent years training us to respect the womenfolk. I can remember Earl and me laughing about it behind his back, thinking how ridiculous it all was. But when I came home and saw those boys doing nothing while Ora Lou planted, hoed, gathered fodder, split rails, cooked, washed, and everything else, something just snapped in me.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Mack ran a hand through his hair. “I realized then, I couldn’t provide for them and simultaneously protect Ora Lou and the boys from Grandpa’s influence. So I took Ikey, Otis, and John-John to families on the other side of the mountain, where folks school their children. But Ora Lou was different. Even though most clans treat their women well, I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave her so far out of my sphere. So I put her in Sloop’s orphanage.”

  Vaughan lit the edges of his cigar. “Well, I daresay she’ll do well there. That Sloop is a fine fellow.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Blowing out the match, he tossed it in a tray. “All you have to do is look at what he’s done for those children. They were in the streets one day with barely enough clothing to cover their backs. The next, he had them beneath a warm roof with full bellies. Have you seen what he’s done with the parlor? He’s methodically renovating the whole place. He just finished his office and – ”

  “He beats the girls.”

  Vaughan stopped, the cigar halfway to his mouth.

  “I’ve suspected for a while, but when I saw Ora Lou’s face yesterday, well . . .” He gripped the arms of the chair.

  “Are you sure? She didn’t run into something?”

  “I’m sure. And it’s been going on for a while.”

  Vaughan fell back in his chair. “Is it just Ora Lou, or are there others?”

  “I don’t know, but I suspect there are others.”

  “Have you gone to Chief Pilkerton?”

  “Just came from there. They threw me out and told me not to come back.”

  Vaughan rubbed his head. “Doesn’t surprise me. Pilkerton and Sloop go way back.”

  “Well, I’m not going to put up with it. I made it clear to Sloop that Ora Lou was off-limits, but all the same, I don’t like leaving her there.”

  Staring into the distance, Vaughan shook his head. “I just can’t believe it.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  Vaughan looked at him. “Whatever amount you need, I can have it for you by tomorrow.”

  Mack stiffened. “I didn’t come for a handout.”

  “Your father was like family to me, son. I’d be honored if you’d let me do this.”

  “No, sir.”

  Sighing, Vaughan shook his head. “That confounded mountain pride. As quick to resent alms as you are to return a blow. I can’t even remember how many times I asked your mother to accept my help, but she absolutely refused.”

  Mack leaned forward, settled his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands between them. “Actually, I do have a favor to ask.”

  Vaughan took a puff of his cigar. “Name it and it’s yours.”

  Tillie sat at her parents’ table soaking in the love and laughter. This was the first day off she’d had since her news had been announced, though her mother had learned of it almost as soon as Tillie had. As predicted, Mama had been over the moon.

  “Did Mrs. Vanderbilt pay for her stuff with real gold coins?” little Martha asked, her blue eyes wide. “Did you carry her gold pieces for her?”

  The Reese children had come in bunches, like radishes. Tillie and Allan were part of the first bunch – and the only ones still in North Carolina. The middle two boys had moved west.

  The second batch had started coming when Tillie was six. One baby a year for three years straight. Then another dry spell. Gussie and Ricky, the oldest of that bunch, had shouldered much of the burden for the youngers.

  When Tillie had left home at twelve to be a step-girl for a well-to-do family in Asheville, another bunch had begun arriving. Five-year-old Martha was part of it.

  “Nobody carries their money with them,” Gussie told Martha. “It’s vulgar. They have their bills sent to the steward.”

  Tillie and Allan exchanged a glance. Gussie would be twelve in the spring and thus leaving home. In anticipation, Mama had her reading The Handy Book for the Young General Servant.

  “Did she buy diamonds and dresses and a new pair of shoes?” Martha breathed, her black ringlets hovering over her food as she leaned in toward Tillie.

  “She can’t tell you.” Gussie handed a piece of bread to her youngest brother, Ennis. “Mrs. Vanderbilt relies on the total discretion of those who serve her.”

  Mama carved a piece of meat off the hare, her enormous bosom rocking with the motion. For such large proportions up top and down below, she had a relatively small waist – accentuated by the cinching of her apron strings. “That may be so, Gussie, but it isn’t as if we’re in Newport. Here, all of Asheville would know of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s purchases before she ever even left the store. So if Tillie wants to tell us, I’m sure it would be all right. We are family, after all.”

  Gussie snorted, but the room fell silent. Tillie could feel their ears growing as they waited for her reply. Even little Ennis looked at her, his mouth now full of bread.

  She took a sip of milk, stalling. The townsfolk would discuss Mrs. Vanderbilt’s every move in great detail for weeks to come, but that was them. Not the staff. Not her personal maid. If she were to blur the lines, how would she know where they started and where they stopped? Before she could formulate a response, Allan came to her rescue.

  “I don’t think the good people of Asheville were talking about Mrs. Vanderbilt so much as they were Tillie,” he said.

  Mama’s smile was smug. “Really? What were they saying?”

  He jabbed some peas with his fork. “Earl Danver made sure everybody knew it took him t
wice as long to get to town as usual, because after every bump Tillie had to cast her bread upon the waters.”

  Mama popped Allan’s knuckles with her spoon. Popped them. Tillie hadn’t seen her do that since he was twelve.

  “You hush up, Allan Reese. I don’t want to hear another word about that or that infernal Earl Danver.”

  Allan’s brows shot up to his hairline as he massaged his offended hand. “I’m afraid the secret’s out, Ma. It’s quite the joke belowstairs, and Till’s endured no small amount of ribbing because of it.”

  “What’ve they said, Allan?” Ricky’s toothy grin stretched from one large ear to the other. “Does she have a nickname?”

  “Ricky!” Mama waved her spoon, but the ten-year-old was well out of reach.

  “Does she?”

  Straightening his spine, Allan looked down his nose. “I’m afraid, young sir, that your sister relies on the total discretion of those who serve beside her.”

  The little ones giggled. They loved it when he put on his footman airs.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  Mama signaled for the plates and flatware to be passed to her for washing. “Tillie’s still better than that Lucy Lewers. Why, Lucy has men sniffing after her all the time. You’ve seen the way she carries on at the barn gatherings during parlor games and twistifications. It’s downright scandalous. You won’t catch our Tillie doing that.”

  “Nothing wrong with twistifications.”

  All eyes swung toward Pa. He weighed about one hundred thirty pounds and, like Ricky, had a toothy grin. He didn’t talk much, but everybody in the county knew him on account of his being the best dancer these parts had ever seen.

  Mama gave him a stern look. “Dancing gives the boys ideas, Herbert.”

  “Aw, we’re just letting off a little steam.” Allan pulled his napkin from his collar. “Nobody thinks anything about it.”

  “Just the same.” She turned to Tillie. “The last thing you need now is some loafer showing some interest. You probably shouldn’t go to the barn gatherings at all until your position as lady’s maid is secure.”

  Tillie frowned. “Not go? But I haven’t missed a single one since I was hired on.”