Chapter 14

“Explain yourself,” Mrs. Goodman demanded as she stormed down the aisle, Beatrix having no choice but to trot along beside the woman since, clearly, she was in trouble again.

“What would you like to know?” Beatrix asked as they turned a corner that led not to her glove counter but toward the elevator.

“I’d like to know what possessed you to leave your department and go traipsing off to Men’s Furnishings with Mr. Nesbit. This isn’t a marriage mart, Miss Waterbury, and we here at Marshall Field & Company expect our associates to know that.”

Beatrix stopped walking, but since Mrs. Goodman didn’t bother to slow her pace, she charged after the woman, who was now standing in front of the elevator.

“Mr. Nesbit wasn’t here because he’s interested in marrying me,” Beatrix began, ignoring the sniff Mrs. Goodman gave to that explanation. “He was here to find collars but—”

The elevator door opened, Mrs. Goodman gestured her inside, then after telling the elevator operator to take them to the sixth floor, she nodded to Beatrix. “We’re on our way to Mr. Selfridge’s office.”

“Wonderful,” Beatrix muttered, earning another sniff from Mrs. Goodman, which she pretended she didn’t hear.

As the elevator whooshed upward, Beatrix couldn’t help but conclude that her experience as a working woman was quickly turning into a disaster. She never would have thought in a million years that maintaining a position as a salesgirl would be such a daunting feat.

She’d been trying her hardest to do an acceptable job, but at every turn she kept finding herself being taken to task for matters she didn’t believe warranted such chastisement in the first place.

It was a rude awakening to see how working women were treated, and knowing that she was powerless to do anything about that situation because she was determined to keep her job, well, it was downright maddening.

“Sixth floor,” the elevator operator intoned, bringing the elevator to a stop with a pull of a lever before he swung the grate open and gestured them out.

“This way, Miss Waterbury,” Mrs. Goodman said, heading down a narrow hallway that had framed paintings of different renditions of Marshall Field buildings hanging on the walls. Beatrix paused in front of a painting of a building with flames shooting out the windows.

“That depicts the fire of 1871.”

Turning, Beatrix discovered Mr. Selfridge standing a few feet away from her, smiling pleasantly, although his good humor was sure to fade the moment Mrs. Goodman informed him of Beatrix’s latest transgressions.

Wanting to delay that nasty business for as long as possible, Beatrix nodded to the painting. “Marshall Field & Company burned down?”

“It did, and twice at that,” Mr. Selfridge said. “The first time was during the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Marshall Field & Company was known then as Field, Leiter, & Company, and it wasn’t spared.”

Mr. Selfridge gestured to another painting. “After the ’71 fire, State Street was almost completely destroyed, which is why Mr. Field and Mr. Leiter moved into a temporary building well away from the destroyed parts of the city, but they eventually moved back to State Street in a new building that sat on land Mr. Potter Palmer sold to the Singer Sewing Machine Company. Singer paid Mr. Palmer three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the land, then spent an additional seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to build a five-story structure that possessed a giant glass dome in the center of its mansard roof.” He nodded to the painting again. “That’s it right there.”

“Impressive.”

“I’m sure it was, given that Singer was charging Mr. Field and Mr. Leiter seventy-five thousand dollars a year in rent.” He gestured to another painting. “That one depicts the building that was used next after fire destroyed the second State Street store in 1877.”

“I had no idea Marshall Field’s suffered so many disasters.”

Mr. Selfridge nodded. “I find it important for our employees to understand the store’s history, as well as to understand the history between Mr. Field and Mr. Leiter. They were partners for years, but tensions eventually built up between them. Mr. Field finally convinced Mr. Leiter to sell out his shares in the business after they moved to the building we’re currently in, and that’s when Marshall Field & Company was born.”

Beatrix frowned. “Did Mr. Leiter want to sell his shares?”

“Doubtful, but retail is a cutthroat business, Miss Waterbury. Only the strongest survive. But enough of the history lesson,” Mr. Selfridge said. “You must have a reason for being on this floor. Dare I hope you’ve come to tell me you’ve made another spectacular sale today?”

“That’s not why I’ve brought her to speak with you.”

Mr. Selfridge turned. “Mrs. Goodman. I didn’t see you standing there.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were instructing Miss Waterbury on the history of Marshall Field & Company.”

Mr. Selfridge settled a knowing eye on Beatrix. “Have you been disclosing too much information about our products again, Miss Waterbury?”

“She abandoned her post to escort Mr. Norman Nesbit and his companion to Men’s Furnishings,” Mrs. Goodman said before Beatrix could respond. “Poor Miss Wheeler, a young woman who never causes me any trouble, was left with the difficult task of watching not only her counter, but Miss Waterbury’s counter as well.”

“Perhaps we should take this into my office,” Mr. Selfridge said, any sign of the recently cheerful gentleman having disappeared a mere second after Mrs. Goodman’s disclosure.

Having no choice but to follow Mr. Selfridge and Mrs. Goodman down the hall, Beatrix soon found herself in a well-appointed office with a deep mahogany desk that sat in front of two long windows. After gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk, Mr. Selfridge moved behind the desk and took a seat. Leaning back, he nodded to Mrs. Goodman. “I’m listening.” That was all it took for Mrs. Goodman to launch into a long list of Beatrix’s supposed transgressions, ending with, “And while Miss Wheeler was reluctant to disclose where Miss Waterbury was, she finally told me that Miss Waterbury had gone off with Mr. Nesbit to Men’s Furnishings. Miss Wheeler did tell me that she’d encouraged Miss Waterbury to assist Mr. Nesbit, but I’m convinced Miss Wheeler was being gracious and trying to cover for—” She jerked her head Beatrix’s way.

“Would you like to dispute anything Mrs. Goodman has told me so far?” Mr. Selfridge asked, settling his attention on Beatrix.

“I believe Mrs. Goodman has been accurate in her assessment of the situation, although I wasn’t attempting to thumb my nose at protocol. I just wasn’t familiar with what a salesgirl was expected to do in that particular—”

A knock on the door interrupted her right as Mr. Selfridge’s secretary poked her head in. “Mr. Blair, supervisor of Men’s Furnishings, needs to have a word with you, Mr. Selfridge.”

“Tell him I’m in a meeting,” Mr. Selfridge returned.

“He’s here about Miss Waterbury.”

Mr. Selfridge shot a look of disbelief to Beatrix. “You may leave, Mrs. Goodman,” he said. “And please send in Mr. Blair.” He then settled back in his chair and stared at Beatrix as if he’d never encountered a salesgirl quite like her before.

After Mr. Blair took Mrs. Goodman’s vacated seat beside Beatrix, not bothering to even acknowledge her, he launched into an account of everything Beatrix had done wrong, with the most grievous offense, at least according to Mr. Blair, being the fact that she’d taken away an impressive sale from one of his salesmen.

Having held her tongue throughout Mr. Blair’s entire tirade, Beatrix finally had enough. Sitting forward, she caught Mr. Blair’s eye. “The only reason Mr. Nesbit requested my assistance was because he’d been all but ignored by your salesmen when he went over to select some items while I assisted his companion with choosing gloves.”

“Neither Mr. Foster nor Mr. Rice would ever ignore a customer,” Mr. Blair said with a sniff.

“Come now, Mr. Blair. From what I was told, your salesmen were assisting matrons known to be of the society set. You know that even with Marshall Field & Company expecting their associates to cater to every customer, some do get neglected when there’s more than one known wealthy customer in a department.”

“That never happens.”

“It does. You just don’t want to admit that in front of Mr. Selfridge.”

Mr. Blair began quivering with indignation. “You’re impertinence is not helping your situation, Miss Waterbury.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but since you’ve leveled unfair charges against me, I believe I have no choice but to defend myself, although I wouldn’t say I’m being impertinent, more along the lines of brutally honest.”

Mr. Selfridge sat forward. “You may go, Mr. Blair.”

Even though Mr. Blair looked as if he wanted to argue some more, he rose to his feet, nodded to Mr. Selfridge, then strode from the room without a second glance at Beatrix.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air until Mr. Selfridge blew out a breath. “Why do you believe Mr. Norman Nesbit, a gentleman who belongs to one of the wealthiest families in Chicago, was being ignored by the salesmen?”

“In my humble opinion, that might have been caused by Mr. Nesbit’s appearance. His hair is much too long at the moment, something I explained to him when he asked me that same question, and I believe his slightly derelict appearance had the salesmen believing he wasn’t a gentleman with deep pockets.”

Mr. Selfridge blinked. “You told one of our customers his hair was too long?”

“He asked.”

“How did he respond to your answer?”

“He wasn’t upset, if that’s your concern, because he seemed genuinely curious about why he’d been ignored.”

“Were you able to assist him with purchasing everything he wanted in Men’s Furnishings?”

“I was, and I’m sure you’ll be interested to learn that it was another impressive sale.”

Mr. Selfridge narrowed his eyes. “But it was a sale that was taken away from a salesman.”

“Who was ignoring Mr. Nesbit.”

“If you would have given the sale to one of the salesmen in that department, that would have defused any resentment they now feel toward you.”

Beatrix’s brows drew together. “Why would I have done that?”

“Because it would have allowed one of them to add an impressive sale to his books for the day.”

“It allowed me to add an impressive sale to my book, but . . .” She stopped talking, took a second to organize thoughts that were scattering every which way, then nodded. “You put more importance on the sales the men make than the sales the women make, don’t you?”

“That’s not a secret, Miss Waterbury. The men who work at Marshall Field are more competitive because they’re here to advance their careers. Women, on the other hand, usually take up employment so that they may contribute to household expenses. They often don’t advance because we don’t have many high-ranking positions that are suitable for women.”

“Well, perhaps I’m determined to become a saleswoman instead of a measly salesgirl.”

Mr. Selfridge’s brows shot up to his hairline. “Did you just call your position measly?”

“Slip of the tongue.”

“You should watch that tongue of yours, Miss Waterbury. It’s bound to get you into trouble.”

“Excellent advice.”

Mr. Selfridge settled back into his chair. “I suppose all that’s left to do now is figure out what to do with you.”

“Something needs to be done with me?”

“You abandoned your post, Miss Waterbury, and then you took away a sale from a salesman. Yes, something needs to be done with you.”

Beatrix sat forward. “In the store handbook, it says that Mr. Field demands that we employees give the lady what she wants.”

“And your point would be?”

“Well, even though Mr. Nesbit is not a lady, I was giving him, a cherished customer, what he wanted—that being my assistance.”

“True, this is true,” Mr. Selfridge said slowly.

“And while I did leave my glove counter, I did so at the request of a customer. I then proceeded to give that customer exactly what he wanted, and I also sold him large quantities of those items.” She nodded. “That customer wouldn’t have purchased a single item if I’d not complied with his request, which means I see no reason for you to discipline me because I was, after all, only doing my job.”

“You have to be disciplined. Two supervisors have taken time out of their busy day to complain to me about you.”

“Then they should have spent their time reviewing the situation more thoroughly, because I was not being derelict in my duties.”

Mr. Selfridge blew out a breath. “While you’ve presented a most compelling argument, I still have no choice but to take disciplinary action against you because if I don’t, it’ll cause all sorts of difficulties on the sales floor.” He turned and stared out the window, turning back to Beatrix a moment later. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m taking you out of the glove department and reassigning you to the coat check. In all honesty, I believe you’ll enjoy the coat check because you only need to take whatever coat, jacket, shawl, hat, or item a customer may hand you, then give them a retrieval ticket in return.”

“That doesn’t seem like too harsh of a disciplinary action,” Beatrix said slowly.

“It’s not, although it will be a fifty-cent reduction in your weekly pay.”

Heat traveled up her neck. “You’re reducing my weekly pay? If you’re unaware, I only make seven dollars a week as it is.”

“You’ll still be making six dollars and fifty cents a week, but if you don’t accept the demotion, you’ll be making nothing.”

Beatrix had never felt so helpless in her life.

That she believed a demotion was uncalled for was not in question, but what was in question was what she was going to do next.

She was clearly at a crossroads.

Unlike the other employees, she didn’t need the position. But if she balked at accepting the demotion, she was going to be dismissed, and that would mean she’d never learn where her current path might have led her, and she’d be failing at the first real challenge she’d ever been presented with in her privileged life.

She didn’t want to be a failure, which meant she was going to have to accept the demotion and reduction in pay, even though doing so left her teeth on edge.

Managing a nod as she rose to her feet, she summoned up the smile Marshall Field & Company expected of their employees. “I’m sure I’ll adore working in the coat check.”

“See that you do,” Mr. Selfridge said curtly. “Because if you’re sent to my office again, I will dismiss you, make no mistake about that.”