‘‘You’ve become quite an expert at handling Morgan in only a few days.’’
The girl beamed at the compliment. ‘‘I’ve been around other babies. Remember little Sadie, Ruth’s girl?’’
Charlotte nodded. ‘‘Indeed, I do remember.’’
How could Charlotte forget dear Ruth and Sadie? She and Fiona had shared the same bedroom with Ruth and her little girl during Charlotte’s previous stay at Priddle House. Now Ruth was married and living in California. At least that’s what Mrs. Priddle had reported. Unfortunately, Ruth’s most recent letter had confirmed there was little work in that part of the country, either. Ruth’s name was now on the growing list of names on the Priddle House prayer list.
Morgan squealed with pleasure when Fiona grasped his hand and walked him across the room. ‘‘Do you want to eat breakfast, Morgan?’’
‘‘Come give me a kiss before you go downstairs, big boy.’’ Charlotte stooped down and held out her arms. Morgan darted toward her on wobbly legs and fell into her arms with a chortle. He planted a slobbery baby kiss on his mother’s cheek and then wriggled from her arms.
‘‘Ona,’’ he said, pointing a chubby finger at Fiona.
Fiona offered her hand to Morgan and led him out of the room. The girl had been delighted when Charlotte asked her to care for Morgan during her trip into town. In truth, it had been Mrs. Priddle who had suggested the assignment.
‘‘I’ll keep an eye on Morgan, too,’’ Mrs. Priddle had said. ‘‘But Fiona will feel grown-up if you ask her to look after the child. She’ll relish the responsibility.’’ As usual, she’d been correct.
After a final glance in the mirror, Charlotte retrieved her parasol. Mrs. Priddle was waiting in the downstairs hallway. ‘‘Morgan is eating breakfast. No need to upset him with a goodbye. He’ll cry and then you’ll worry.’’ She escorted Charlotte to the front door. ‘‘Let’s hope Mr. Ashton will be in his office tending to business instead of stirring up trouble at the convention.’’
‘‘Yesterday’s newspaper said the meetings wouldn’t commence until ten o’clock this morning, so he should be at the office.’’
The older woman followed Charlotte to the front porch. ‘‘Do you plan to schedule an appointment to see Mr. Field while you’re downtown?’’
Charlotte nodded. ‘‘Yes, there’s no need to delay the process. Even if funds remain in the account with Mr. Ashton, they won’t last forever. We will need additional income.’’
Mrs. Priddle concurred. ‘‘Two of the ladies have positions as cleaning maids at Grand Pacific Hotel. Though they work very hard, their pay is minimal. Any additional funds will be a blessing.’’
Charlotte would do her best, but when she coupled what she’d read in the newspaper with Mrs. Priddle’s recent accounts, she worried Mr. Field might not be inclined to rehire her. She offered up a prayer as she hastened toward Mr. Ashton’s office.
Charlotte lowered her parasol as she approached the front door of Montrose Ashton’s law office. When she opened the door, a small bell jangled to announce her entry. Ellen Ashton immediately looked up from the papers scattered on her desk.
For a moment, the lawyer’s daughter looked as though she’d been struck dumb. ‘‘Charlotte? Is it truly you?’’ She jumped up from her chair and circled around the desk. ‘‘I can’t believe you are here. What brings you back to Chicago? Has the earl returned on business?’’
Charlotte shook her head and informed Ellen of her father’s recent death. Without giving further details, she sat down and folded her hands in her lap. ‘‘I am hoping that your father is available for a short meeting with me.’’
‘‘He currently has someone in his office, but I know he’ll be delighted to see you when he’s completed his appointment. Do you have accommodations here in Chicago?’’
Charlotte fidgeted with her gloves. There was no sense in hiding her living arrangements. ‘‘Yes. I’m staying with Mrs. Priddle.’’
Ellen clasped a hand to her chest. ‘‘Oh, how delighted she must be that you elected to reside at the house while you’re in town. I’m certain all of the ladies are honored to live with a member of nobility for a short time.’’ Ellen sat down beside Charlotte. ‘‘How long will you be visiting?’’
Before she could answer, the door to Mr. Ashton’s office swung open. ‘‘I tell you, Matthew, you always bring a smile to my lips.’’ He clapped a handsome man on the shoulder. Their ensuing laughter stopped short when they caught sight of the two women.
Mr. Ashton bowed his shoulders and squinted his eyes. ‘‘Why, isn’t this a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know you were visiting in our fair city, Lady Charlotte.’’
The younger man nudged Mr. Ashton. ‘‘I believe an introduction is in order, Montrose.’’
‘‘Indeed. This lovely young lady is Lady Charlotte, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Lanshire. Lady Charlotte, may I present Matthew Clayborn.’’
The man who’d been introduced as Mr. Clayborn bent over until his fingers touched the floor. She longed to giggle at his attempt to behave in a proper courtly manner. ‘‘You need not bow, Mr. Clayborn. While in this country, I avoid the use of my title.’’ He stood upright and she could see the questions in his midnight blue eyes.
‘‘It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Miss . . .’’
‘‘Spencer,’’ she replied and then turned her attention to Mr. Ashton. ‘‘I do hope you have time for a brief meeting. I’ve several matters I wish to discuss with you.’’
‘‘Of course.’’ With a flourish of his arm, Mr. Ashton waved her toward his office door.
Once inside Mr. Ashton’s office, Charlotte wasted little time advising the lawyer of the reason for her visit.
He leaned back in his chair and removed a cigar from his pocket. ‘‘Had I known Mrs. Priddle was desirous of receiving an accounting, I would have provided one.’’ He wove the unlit cigar up and down between his fingers. ‘‘When I met her, she didn’t appear reticent to make her views known. I’m rather surprised she didn’t pay me a visit herself.’’
‘‘That fact aside, I would be grateful to receive the information— today, if possible.’’ Charlotte rested her parasol beside her. ‘‘Mrs. Priddle mentioned that the payment was late last month.’’
Before Charlotte had returned to England, she’d insisted her father send funds to help defray monthly expenses at Priddle House. The earl’s finances had been stable at that time, and he had willingly complied. Prior to her sailing, Charlotte had charged Mr. Ashton with the responsibility of disbursing the money. She hoped she hadn’t misplaced her trust in the man.
He nodded. ‘‘I do apologize. I was out of the city on business and should have ordered the draft prior to my departure, an oversight for which I am deeply sorry.’’ He pushed away from his desk. ‘‘If you’ll give me a moment to retrieve my ledger, we can then go over the account.’’
Charlotte looked out the window while she waited for him to remove the book from a nearby shelf. He dropped the thick ledger onto his desk and absently flipped through the pages.
‘‘Ah, here we are.’’ He turned the book around and shoved it across the desk in front of her. Using his cigar, he pointed to the column titled
Balance
. ‘‘You’ll see there isn’t a great deal remaining in the account. Mrs. Priddle was in need of a new roof for the house.’’ Sunlight spilled through an adjacent window and accentuated the whiteness of the lawyer’s hair. ‘‘If the roof had been left in disrepair, those leaks would have caused extensive damage to the house. And then there was—’’ He stopped midsentence and pushed the ledger a little closer. ‘‘Well, you can see for yourself. There were other repairs needed to the house. If you’d like to deposit additional funds at the bank, I know Mrs. Priddle would be thankful.’’
Charlotte’s spirits collapsed like a deflated balloon. She had hoped to see a larger balance, yet the expenses could all be verified. Mr. Ashton produced an envelope containing the receipts, which he promptly offered for her review, but she refused. Mrs. Priddle could easily confirm that the work had been completed.
‘‘I’m certain you have done your best to maintain the house properly while keeping a careful watch on the balance of the account.’’ Charlotte slowly pushed the ledger back to his side of the desk.
‘‘Added to the woes of the depression, Chicago suffered a terrible winter, one of the worst in our history.’’ His low chuckle echoed in the large room. ‘‘Of course, folks tend to think that each year, but I’d agree that this was one of Chicago’s worst. As you can well imagine, the price of keeping warm increased each time the temperature took another dip. Of course, for those who have adequate financial means, there’s no concern over such issues as keeping warm, but those folks are few and far between right now.’’
‘‘I trust your finances have sustained you, Mr. Ashton.’’
‘‘I’m getting along better than some, but when there’s no money for food, folks aren’t going to spend their last few coins on a lawyer.’’ He dropped into his chair and chuckled. ‘‘Not that I blame them.’’ He tapped the ledger book. ‘‘Did you plan to donate additional funds to the Priddle House account while you’re visiting in Chicago?’’
‘‘I do wish that I could.’’ Charlotte pressed her palms together and met Mr. Ashton’s inquiring gaze. ‘‘May I trust that our conversation will be held in confidence?’’
‘‘Why, of course.’’
Without fanfare, Charlotte revealed the truth to Mr. Ashton. When she’d completed the tale, she sighed. ‘‘So you see, I’m in no better financial condition than are most other residents of this fair city. Once our meeting concludes, I will be seeking employment in order to help Mrs. Priddle meet expenses. Otherwise, I have little to offer in the way of financial aid.’’
Mr. Ashton closed the book’s leather cover. ‘‘I am sorry to hear of your father’s death and of his financial losses. He’s not the first man who’s succumbed to gambling fever. They all think that with one more roll of the dice they’ll regain their losses.’’
With a rueful smile, Charlotte grasped the handle of her parasol. ‘‘So my father told me. I know he regretted his actions. Still . . .’’
‘‘Yes, quite difficult for you and your mother. I do hope she has someone to assist her with the creditors who will likely hound her.’’
Charlotte explained that her father had entrusted his solicitor with that duty and thanked Mr. Ashton for his concern. ‘‘I don’t suppose there is anything further for us to discuss. If I’m able to locate employment, I’m hopeful we won’t need to draw on the account except for emergencies.’’
‘‘I wish you well in your endeavor, Lady—Miss Spencer. I’d offer my name as a reference, but I fear it would prove a detriment with the Chicago businessmen.’’
‘‘Especially with Mr. Pullman, I suspect.’’
He laughed and nodded as he escorted her to the outer office. ‘‘Indeed. Give my best to Mrs. Priddle.’’
Charlotte couldn’t guess which one of them was more surprised to see Mr. Clayborn in the reception office visiting with Ellen.
Mr. Ashton arched his bushy brows. ‘‘Must be a slow day for news. I didn’t expect to see you sitting around all morning, Matthew.’’
‘‘There’s plenty of time before the convention begins. To tell the truth, I hoped Miss Spencer would permit me to escort her to her next appointment.’’ He rested his forearms on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. ‘‘The streets of Chicago can be difficult to navigate.’’
She offered a stiff smile. ‘‘I am familiar with the city, Mr. Clayborn. I don’t anticipate any problem arriving at my next appointment.’’
He snapped his finger and thumb together. ‘‘I thought you might like to have news about Olivia Mott and Fred DeVault.’’
‘‘You know Olivia?’’ Charlotte glanced at Ellen for affirmation. ‘‘He does. In fact, he sees Fred nearly every day,’’ Ellen said. ‘‘You can trust him, Charlotte. He’s perfectly harmless. I’ve known Matthew for years.’’
Matthew lifted his hat from the hall tree. ‘‘You see? I’m harmless.’’
Mr. Ashton didn’t concur that Matthew was harmless but agreed that Charlotte should accept his offer to escort her. ‘‘Walking the streets of Chicago isn’t quite as safe as when you were last in the city. Dressed in your finery, I fear you’ll encounter a few folks along the way who may attempt to snatch your reticule. Poverty does terrible things to people.’’
Though Charlotte was uncertain whether such precaution was truly necessary, she accepted Mr. Clayborn’s offer. After bidding Mr. Ashton and Ellen good-bye, the couple departed.
Charlotte noted that Mr. Clayborn appeared quite pleased with himself when they turned to walk down the street.
‘‘Where would you like to go, Miss Spencer? Would you join me for a cup of coffee—or tea, perhaps? Your wish is my command.’’
She quickly declined his offer for refreshments. ‘‘I have a stop to make at Marshall Field and Company and then have other matters that need my attention.’’ She didn’t want to tell him she was residing at Priddle House and that the older woman would worry if she was away longer than anticipated.
Besides, she didn’t want to be away from Morgan any longer than necessary. If Mr. Field offered her employment, she’d have little enough time to spend with her son.
‘‘Then perhaps you’ll agree to join me for tea another day. When do you plan to return to England?’’
‘‘My future remains uncertain, Mr. Clayborn. I believe you mentioned you’re acquainted with Olivia. I don’t believe I ever heard her speak of you.’’
‘‘We met when she was traveling the rails. I was writing a story for the newspaper—I work for the
Herald
.’’
He regaled her with stories of his first encounter with Olivia, their subsequent disagreements, and the friendship that had finally evolved. ‘‘Olivia continues to work at Hotel Florence with Chef René , and Fred is a union representative attending the convention on behalf of the Pullman workers.’’
‘‘So they haven’t married?’’
‘‘No, but I’d say a proposal is in the offing. There’s no doubt Fred loves Olivia, but he’s one of those men who needs a push to make those big decisions in life.’’ When they approached the corner near Marshall Field and Company, Matthew came to a halt. ‘‘I’ll leave you to your shopping, Miss Spencer. May I tell Fred that you’ve arrived in town, or would you prefer to surprise Olivia?’’