Chapter 3

CHAPTER3

As Ellie entered the hotel dining room with Ada, Uncle Walter and Aunt Florence a few yards behind, Lewis Thornton was exiting. The engineer slowed as he spotted her, an enigmatic smile creeping over his face.

Her empty stomach pinched. Did he recognize her from the basement? Oh, munge. She’d had a first-class idea to swap hats with Maeve, their maid, but what good did it do when she couldn’t keep a low profile? She hadn’t expected the mysterious Italian man to immediately confirm her suspicions.

Her gaze fixed on the lapel of Lewis’s smart black dinner jacket. She leaned close to whisper to Ada. “What did I tell you? Look at his boutonniere.” A single man did not wear boutonnieres for no reason, and everyone could read the language of the flowers.

“A white daisy. Innocence and love.”

“Innocence, indeed. Maybe your mother will believe me now.”

Florence had dismissed the declaration Ellie had dropped the moment she returned to their rooms earlier—that Lewis had a sweetheart. Her response? Ada could hold her own with any woman. Ellie only needed to find out who the rival was. But she mustn’t appear too curious.

Averting her eyes, she attempted to glide by, but Lewis removed his top hat and spoke. “Ah, Miss Hastings. And Miss Hastings, I presume?”

Ellie nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Thornton.”

“How do you find the hotel? You seem the curious type. I wager you’ve already been over the place top to bottom.” His gaze narrowed on her, and it was all she could do to keep her jaw clamped. “You know, it’s good you have a sister to explore with. For safety.”

“Actually, she’s my—”

Ada slid a hand through her elbow and lightly pinched the tender skin above Ellie’s glove. She chimed in sweetly. “Ellie, do make introductions.”

Ellie stammered out both names. Before she could clarify her relation to Ada, her cousin turned to introduce her parents, who had drawn up behind them, Uncle Walter dignified and Aunt Florence pop-eyed.

Uncle Walter rubbed his bewhiskered chin. “Lewis Thornton. If I remember correctly, your father was a Philadelphia clockmaker, and your invention enabled the railroad to synchronize all their watches.”

Lewis’s eyes—a strange blue-gray, like a foggy morning—flashed wide for a moment. “That is correct, sir. Temperature-compensated balance wheels. My father’s company is now one of their main suppliers.”

“Ground-breaking. Quite impressive.”

“Impressive, indeed.” Aunt Florence tittered. “Have you already dined, sir?”

“I dined on the train. I was just seeing someone settled.”

Who? He waved behind him—not toward the main dining room, with its French windows and elliptical fanlights offering a view of the gardens—but toward one of two private, connecting dining rooms.

Aunt Florence poked her full lower lip out. “Oh, a shame. We would have been delighted for you to join us, seeing as you are alone. Will you take a belated aperitif? Dessert?”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I have other business to attend to.” He darted a glance at Ellie.

She lowered her lashes.

“Tea, then. Tomorrow.” With a giggle that suggested Lewis had leapt into the air to click his heels together rather than standing there stiff as a stovepipe, Aunt Florence offered their suite number.

Oh, land sakes. Ellie stared at the floral print on the carpet.

“I am sorry.” Lewis’s lips barely moved. “I have a tea engagement already.”

Uncle Walter cleared his throat. “Some other time, perhaps. We would love for you to regale us with tales of your inventions.”

With a bow, Lewis bid them goodnight.

As soon as he was past, Aunt Florence smirked at Ada. “You see? It’s just a matter of time now that he has laid eyes on you. Persistence will win the day.”

When Ellie gaped at her, her aunt raised her eyebrows, jutted her nose in the air, and sailed past on Uncle Walter’s arm.

Ada let out a sigh. “She will not be denied.”

Ellie turned on her. “You didn’t even try. Are you interested in him, after all?”

“At his age?” Ada frowned and touched one of her ears, then the other.

“What is it?”

Ada’s eyes widened, and she felt both sides of her head at once. “My earring!” When she removed her hands, Ellie could see the problem.

“The pearl has fallen off the right one.”

“Oh, quick. Help me look.”

Their frantic search of the carpet soon drew the attention of Uncle Walter, Aunt Florence, and the maitre’d.

Aunt Florence sighed in relief when the employee located the pearl near the door—but with a broken wire. “Take them off, Ada, and let Ellie run upstairs and fetch you another pair.”

“Oh, Mother, Ellie doesn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. You look indecent with bare earlobes. It will only take a minute.” Expecting obedience, Aunt Florence returned to the maitre’d’s stand. With a regretful smile at Ellie, Uncle Walter followed his wife.

“I’m sorry.” Ada placed the jewelry onto Ellie’s extended palm. “If Gertrude isn’t there, Adam can open the safe for you.”

Ellie would rather deal with Uncle Walter’s Irish valet over Aunt Florence’s French maid any day, but with her luck, the proper and reclusive Gertrude would be taking her dinner in the suite with the company she preferred best—herself.

The rotunda’s fourteen-foot ceilings with dark wooden crossbeams and the sweet musical strains of the resident orchestra had awed her upon their arrival, but now, with her stomach rumbling, she hurried toward the elevator rather than the Colonial-style, grand cypress stairway.

Just before she darted inside, a lithe figure mounted the steps. Thornton. Who was he meeting? If she could be certain he had a love interest, she might spare Ada a painful misdirection.

She and Aunt Florence agreed on one thing—the quicker they could find Ada’s match, the better. This maneuvering, this plotting, this existence in the painful gray space between family and servant, needed to end. Then Ellie could figure out what to do with her life. Her prospects might be bleak, but they would be her own.

She waited until Thornton turned at the landing before following up the stairs. She would’ve expected his apartment to be on the first floor. The best suites boasted forty-by-forty-two windows. She recalled this fact because Aunt Florence had fretted that shouldn’t the Hastings be first-floor quality? Uncle Walter had mollified her that their second-floor rooms possessed a balcony—plus the three electric lights, steam heat, and plush rugs of the suites.

Her heart hammered, and her breath came fast by the time she reached the third floor. She pressed her hand to her side. Why her unpopularly girlish figure needed a corset and the pneumatic bust form Aunt Florence was constantly pushing her to wear stymied her.

Thornton continued upward. The fourth floor? Weren’t most rooms here rented out for nannies and servants?

She peeked around the corner as Thornton proceeded along the narrow hallway. He knocked at a door halfway down. It opened and he went inside. An arm appeared—a red silk sleeve flashed—and the door closed.

She straightened, frowning. Her fears Thornton had a sweetheart could be naïve. He might have a mistress. Surely, that would end Florence’s plotting.

So why wasn’t she more relieved? Instead, with an odd ache in her belly—probably just the gnawing hunger resolving into resignation—she returned to their rooms.

As Ellie let herself into the sitting room, voices drifted from within the women’s compartments. Not surprising, since Florence and Ada had left half the contents of their wardrobes scattered about in the wake of the pressing crisis of what to wear their first night in the dining room. The maids were probably cleaning up. But what did make her catch her breath—that one voice was much deeper. Ellie crept toward the dressing room she shared with her aunt and cousin. Adam? In there? And Maeve…weeping?

“I dunna what to do. Ma needs me, but now that Pa can’t work, they need my pay more.” The maid’s Irish lilt reached Ellie before sight of her did—her short, curvy form tucked against the tall valet’s, his salt-and-pepper head resting atop her auburn pompadour.

Was no one above secrets and assignations? Ellie cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

Maeve jerked back, her glistening doe-brown eyes rounding while she dashed tears away, then righted her wobbling bun. “Miss Ellie!”

Adam dipped his chin. “Pardon us, but this isn’t as it seems.”

“No?” Her indignation had nothing to do with the fact that everyone but she seemed capable of finding love. Uncle Walter’s servants knew that romantic attachments with one another led to dismissal. She’d hate to see that happen to Adam and Maeve.

“Maeve received some bad news from home.”

The maid stepped forward. “I’m afraid I fell into quite a blue devil, Miss Ellie. Adam was trying to help me pull myself together.”

“What’s the matter? Something with your father?”

“His cancer has spread. I’m afraid he’s not long for this world.”

Ellie’s heart melted, and she touched Maeve’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I know—I know what that is like.” Why did her voice catch, as though it hadn’t been almost fifteen years?

“Yes, miss. I reckon you do.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Hastings would give you time off if your family needs you.” Although why Maeve hadn’t asked before leaving Pittsburgh, Ellie couldn’t fathom.

“Oh no.” The wide eyes returned, and Maeve shook her head rapidly. “I be sending every penny I make back to Ma and the little ones. They couldn’t do without it. So, Miss Ellie, you won’t say anything to Mrs. Hastings, will you? About that or…this?” She glanced at Adam.

Ellie looked between them, both faces pictures of innocence. Adam must be a dozen years Maeve’s senior—pressing middle age. He’d never been anything but circumspect. But a memory of the way his big hand had cradled Maeve’s head flashed. Did she trust her eyes—or her heart? She bit the inside of her lip. The servants deserved the benefit of the doubt. This time. She pulled the earrings out of her pocket and extended them to Maeve.

“I need another pair of pearls for Ada.”

“Oh my.” She took them. “We’ll have these fixed. Gertrude is on an errand for the missus, but Ad—Mr. Donovan—can open the safe.” At Maeve’s lapse, both her face and Adam’s turned red.

Adam crossed the floor, opened a cabinet, and twirled the combination for the black-and-gold strongbox inside. Then he stepped away, his manner begging a reprieve for composure. “I’ll give you ladies a moment. Call me when you are finished.”

When he left the dressing room, Maeve sorted through earring boxes while Ellie waited. “I’m glad he knew the combination.”

“Oh, it’s easy. It’s Ada’s birthday.”

Ellie straightened. “What?”

Maeve put her hand over her mouth. “You can see my tongue’s come unhinged as well as my brain, Miss Ellie. I overheard Mrs. Hastings tell Gertrude. But I don’t ever use it. Only Mr. Donovan and Gertrude do. I promise.”

“Of course, Maeve.” Ellie patted her arm. The girl looked ready to cry again. “Let’s forget we discussed it…and everything.”

“Thank you. You’re always so kind, Miss Ellie. You must know I would never do anything to hurt your family.”

Your family. Ellie pushed back the sting of that. “I know. What about that box?” She pointed to a black velvet square.

“Oh, no. These are the earrings that match the diamond necklace Mrs. Hastings brought to wear to the George Washington Birthday Ball.” She sprung the lid and gazed at the dangling teardrops with open admiration. “Did you ever see anything so fine?”

“Only the necklace. Which is why we should close this safe as quickly as possible.” Florence was notoriously proud of and protective of her jewels.

“Right you are.” Maeve shut the box and reached for another. Finally, she handed Ellie two pearl studs. “These should do.”

“They’ll be perfect. Thank you.” As Maeve pushed the door of the safe to, Ellie leaned closer. “Maeve?”

“Yes, miss?”

An old pain gripped Ellie’s chest. “Be careful, will you? Even a man as trustworthy as Adam may prove to not be all he seems.”