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“I see I have interrupted something, and just so. You will return to your work for the day, Josette, and I do not expect to see you fraternizing with my son again. It is unseemly and if it happens again you will be dismissed.”
Josie blinked, slowly returning to an awareness of how the two of them must have looked to his mother, who was very strict and Josie always thought, right to be so. She could only find it in herself to bob her head quickly and turn back to her dusting.
She could hear Arthur sigh resignedly behind her, still very close to her and yet, still so impossibly far. When she heard his footsteps reach the door as he followed his mother, her voice chastising him as she walked down the hall, she knew he had paused in his movement and couldn’t help turning her head to see why he had stopped.
He offered her a sweet, sad smile that begged for her forgiveness, and she returned it, in spite of the sudden ache in her chest at the memory of the word ‘marriage.’ It certainly wasn’t proper for him to be speaking to her so intimately if a marriage was pending, but she was sure from his expression that the arrangement was not of his doing.
Marriages were settled by families all the time, and in fact, many couples were happier for the better judgment of their elders, but Josie did not believe that one’s adamant objections to a match should be overlooked. It was definitely a revolutionary idea, especially for a woman, but she could not imagine that God would want her, or anyone for that matter, to be unhappy in a lifelong commitment with someone who would share one’s life in every detail.
She finished dusting the girl’s room with her mind on Arthur, shaking her head as she considered that only hours ago she didn’t even know the man, and now she was worried about his happiness. He had started their acquaintance by taking care to notice her happiness that morning, though, hadn’t he, for she never would have approached him on her own.
He was looking for reassurance, she could tell, reassurance of his beliefs, perhaps, and almost definitely regarding his feelings about this marriage. She would not ask him about it, however; she couldn’t possibly pry, but she knew that if he came to her to ask for her opinion she would offer it, whether it coincided with his own or not.
She felt a certainty that they would be like minded, and felt impatient as to when she might see him again. She knew she had to be careful about his mother, though, and hoped he would be more discreet than to approach her while Mrs. Davenport was around.
She shook her head at her thoughts. Worrying about being discovered as if they were doing something wrong, when they were only just becoming friends. Unfortunately, gossip about what was untrue or negative was the only gossip that interested anyone, and losing one’s job over a few short conversations was a high price to pay for an offer of friendship and support.
Josie knew Arthur needed a friend.
⁕
Arthur was spoiled. He knew this and was ashamed, but being ashamed did not change one’s behavior, he reminded himself. He looked back on his twenty years and saw nothing but waste, interspersed with the occasional good deed thrown in for good measure and with plenty of witnesses to report on his supposed kindness.
His travels to Europe however, had awakened him to realities he had not truly seen in New York, seen perhaps with his eyes but not with his heart. The naked, begging children with their hands outstretched at any and every one, in several of the outlying areas of the big cities, was devastating. They were infants, without supervision, without comfort, when they should have been petted, cuddled, protected.
He had seen the little ragged girls downtown at home, of course, selling flowers or mushy fruit, calling out to passersby, but he had always been preoccupied with his plans and needs to pay them much attention. The bare poverty was quite literal in Europe, and while the local residents accepted the beggars and assisted as much as they could, they did not seem troubled by the physical sight of the children.
He began to have nightmares. They had nothing to do with losing his own material goods, as he might have expected, but losing something far greater, something he was sure that had been offered him his whole life and he had disregarded and taken for granted.
His weekly attendance at church with his family as a child had never been a subject of conversation at home or with friends and was merely a social expectation. The words were meaningless to him, but he knew enough facts to begin to piece together what he had been missing. He began to think of Christ as a real person who had spent time among people, only to offer himself to atone for the mistakes those like Arthur himself had or would commit.
On purpose, he thought, I have behaved so selfishly on purpose, when there are children without food and care.
The facts were upsetting enough, but when he found himself thinking of God and silently speaking to Him as if He were a real person in front of him, his emotions took over in a very troublesome way. His eyes filled with tears as he walked down cobbled streets, the beauty of the old world rich and vibrant despite its years, and he thanked God for allowing him the privilege of viewing these gifts.
He gave of his money to the poor children and hunched down on his heels to hold their hands and speak to them, their broken-toothed smiles a small but meaningful reward for his time and efforts. He purchased a Bible and began to read, taking his time and drinking in the stories, the people, the situations, the messages.
He was stunned at the wonder and grace of God and the love of His son and ultimately fell to his knees asking for forgiveness, which he knew was ever offered, ever present, and at that moment, the tie that bound him as a loved and saved child of God.
He dreaded the return to his family, knowing that their expectations would be as all society families were and as his were before his trip. The tour was the usual pre-adulthood excursion meant to allow him to sow his wild oats, so to speak, and prepare himself for his future role as husband and in his case, work alongside his father in the railroad business.
He realized that he had never been interested enough in his own parent to even listen to his father’s explanations of the career with which he spent so much time and made so much money, money Arthur had squandered as effectively as his sisters without any concern for how and when more would be provided.
He had been disrespectful of his father’s efforts and care of the family, and honestly had no clue what was in store for him if he accompanied his father to his Manhattan office building and became one of the many immersed in financial concerns that seemed to make the world go ‘round. He did know that he wanted no part of it, of the work, of his father’s money, instead wishing to learn a trade and provide for himself as any able-bodied man should.
It would be difficult, though, to extract himself from the family business, since the recent stock market crash and the emphasis placed by his parents on his father’s need for Arthur’s support.
God helps those who help themselves, he recalled his mother chiding him as a youngster when he railed against tutors and the waste of time he believed his education was, for he would inherit and have no use for history, languages, science. He did not understand what she meant when she said this, as it made as much sense as the material he was meant to master with hours of study and effort.
Only now could he grasp the necessity of working towards one’s potential, of fulfilling God’s wishes for one to develop talents He had provided, and in turn using them to assist others who needed help. Not everyone had had the benefit of his upbringing, his privileges, and he meant to use his intelligence and abilities to better the lives of those who needed assistance in order to provide for themselves, for it was a matter of pride and honor, he realized, for them as well as him, to be able to make their own way in the world.
Some people, he knew, just needed an extra hand now and then, or a smile from a stranger, a penny for a loaf of bread to make the day’s labors easier for not having been hungry during hours of work.
His mother attended church, he knew, but he did not know how she actually felt about God and the words that were spoken as she looked about her at the other ladies, as they all inspected each other’s wardrobe and behavior. He did not want to judge her but found it difficult not to find her as shallow and obsessed with appearances and money as the rest of society was.
Still, she was more conservative than many of the other parents and did not allow her children to drink or attend and give parties where inappropriate behavior was often the norm. Somehow the financial prosperity of some of their neighbors had appeared to make them abdicate their parental responsibility, or in some cases, encourage their offspring to make a match with a wealthier or more influential family in a rather primitive way.
He had been thinking of how he might help lead others the way those poor children had led him, but wondered what he, a coddled rich boy with no particular skills, could do. He only knew, at this point, that he would not be able to serve God by amassing a fortune along with his father.
He didn’t know how he could break this news to his parents without seeming disrespectful or ungrateful for their time and attention, for their endless allowance for all manner of childishness and selfishness even up to his present age. They had been patient and indulgent, which ultimately led to his understanding of Christ’s sacrifice and the need to share his experience with others so that they might find joy in the light of Christ.
He did not feel joyful as he followed his mother down the stairs like a dog. He thought of the look on Miss Warren’s face when his mother had spoken with disdain upon seeing the two of them conversing, as if the girl would soil him in some way. His mother was strict with the household help, which was no crime, to be sure, but she sometimes forgot, if she even considered it in the first place, that they were human beings with thoughts and feelings just as her family was, and deserved some courtesy, especially when Miss Warren had done nothing wrong.
Most of society did not approve of mingling with staff and his family certainly was in agreement with that sentiment. Arthur meant to right this wrong immediately by explaining that he had engaged the girl in conversation and she was merely being polite by entertaining him. That would not be enough, he knew, to change anything, but for now it might be all he could do as he set about finding the best way to explain his future plans to his parents.
“Really, Arthur, you must not mope about the house when you could be socializing with influential gentlemen who will be happy to assist you when you begin work with your father. I have spoken to so many of our friends who are eager to see you after such a long excursion, anxious to meet you since you’ve grown and perhaps, explore the possibilities of marriage. One young lady in particular, in fact, has quite fond memories of attending parties wherein the two of you played well together.”
Oh, honestly. He was becoming exasperated already and she had hardly opened her mouth. Marriage based on the agreeable play of infants. Is this the marriage she had spoken of in his sister’s bedroom only moments before as if it were an engagement of long standing?
Did she have no regard for his thoughts on the matter? He almost laughed at himself for entertaining such a silly question.
“Oh, it is nice to see you smile, dear. I knew you would be pleased that your old friends are waiting to engage you in some social activities. Mind you, nothing without chaperones, and no drinking. I will have to make some calls and arrangements . . .”
She sat in one of the gilded high-backed, velvet cushioned chairs. He followed suit. They were most uncomfortable but he knew he had to allow his mother to have her due in her arena before he could hope to express his own thoughts and concerns about his future, a future that did not involve investments and railroads.
Such activity did not speak to his heart, and he knew it was because it held no promise to serve others and make their lives better on a very basic level.
“Are you tired, dear? You don’t seem to be paying attention to me. Really, don’t you think some social activities would make you feel a bit better, more at home? You certainly don’t need to feel lonely enough to seek the company of housemaids.”
She tittered like a girl right out of the school room and he had a flash of a very disrespectful desire to slap her. Miss Warren was not just a maid. She had, he was sure, a life that already was an understood walk with Christ, something he was searching for and struggling with.
He knew that his ease in speaking with her was directly related to her obvious Christian nature. He wondered how long she had believed, and what kept her faithful. His interest in her, while he could acknowledge that she was very pretty in a simple, clean manner that many society girls could not match with their adornments, stemmed from that rapturous look on her face that morning, solely brought on by the glory of God in nature.
He longed to have such moments of serenity as he saw shining through her eyes at that moment.
“ . . . and the Harland girl, well, she is a bit pudgy but her dark blue eyes keep one’s attention on her face rather than her more than adequate padding. Not the smartest child in the neighborhood but she should be biddable. She has five brothers. Just think, with a mother that can produce so many heirs, you would be certain to have a houseful of little Davenports within a very short time.”
Arthur shot up out of his chair as if reporting for military duty.
“Catherine Harland is a person, Mother, not a farm animal.”
His mother blinked up at him.
“Excuse me?”
She was absolutely astonished and he considered that his behavior might have overpowered his words.
“The girl you speak of, like a broodmare, she is a person with hopes and dreams of her own, regardless of how she looks or how intelligent she is. I am sure she would not appreciate being considered as one would look at an animal at a local fair.”
He rocked back on his heels, decidedly uncomfortable standing in front of his mother, her gaze unsure and astonished as she looked up at him.
“Well, I don’t know what to say. Of course I didn’t mean to imply that she was, as you so crudely put it, a brood mare, only stating that she is suitable for the purposes of marriage. I was unaware of your sudden interest in her feelings, and I must say, it is a bit distressing.”
He did not want to sit back down so he turned on a heel and began to pace as he spoke.
“I have been meaning to talk to you about such things, Mother, and with Father, too.”
Her expression changed into one of interest and hope.
“Oh, I do hope you met a nice young countess or duchess in Europe and have designs on her. What a thought – nobility! It is all the rage amongst the girls, you know, but for one of our boys to marry into European nobility, what a coup!”
She was so excited he dreaded his next revelation even more than he had already.
“No, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no wish to marry at present, nor do I intend to join Father in his business. I have other ideas, and I hope the two of you will be supportive of them.”
Her lip curled in distaste. She had aged rather well and was quite attractive; a reflection of her youthful beauty, but the look on her face marred it.
“That will not do. I know I speak for your father as well as myself when I say that whatever foolishness you have played about in Europe stops now. You have had your fun and it is now time to settle down and grow up.”
He stopped his pacing and turned in one swift movement to face her.
“I am not asking permission, Mother. I would very much like your blessing, but I am prepared to move forward on my own without it.”
His mother pressed her hand to her heart, her mouth open in surprise, and promptly swooned forward and fell to the floor.
⁕
Josie was mortified at the attention that had been drawn to her that day, first by the very sweet Arthur, who meant no harm and seemed like something of a lost soul, and then his mother. He seemed lonely, which was strange, and she was flattered by his attention. He also seemed to need some sort of validation of . . . what?
His words about God, his interest in her appreciation of small pleasures in nature, seemed so out of place in the Davenport world. Perhaps that was the problem, he just didn’t fit in. She wondered if this had always been the case, or if it was something new.
When she arrived home after a breezy stroll along the Cliff Walk, the salty air clinging to the damp skin on her face, her mother still had a pair of very young children in her care. Josie sat in their wooden rocking chair and gestured for them to come and climb into her lap. Her mother smiled appreciatively and approvingly, her flushed face speaking of the labors of the day.
She adored children but they often had her weary by late afternoon. She was thankful that Josie gave her a respite to sit at the kitchen table and complete kitchen chores such as peeling potatoes that allowed her to get off her feet after chasing little ones all day.
“Have you kept Nanny busy today, dollies?” Josie cuddled the little girls close to her, their baby fine hair damp like hers under her hands. She wondered if it were in her future to be a mother and her thoughts drifted to Arthur Davenport. She was ashamed that her mind operated in such a fashion; she had only just met him that very day.
Of all things . . . but upon quick reflection she recognized that it was his sweet smile and the reassuring gleam in his eyes that spoke of patience and interest, qualities that would make him a good father who was engaged with his children. A father who made certain his children knew he loved them and would always be there for them. She smiled to herself and her daydreaming was interrupted by Dinah, the little blonde girl, as she pulled at Josie’s hair, which had escaped its string in several sections.
Josie laughed, distracted from her thoughts, and focused on singing to the girls as she rocked them until their mothers arrived to collect them after their work was done.
“You’re awfully quiet, dear,” her mother noted as the two of them sat down to their small evening meal of bread and stew. Josie had been lost in thought, it was true, but she hadn’t realized it was noticeable. She nodded and took a deep breath before deciding to confide in her mother.
“I met someone today,” she began.
Her mother raised her eyebrows and set down her spoon.
“Someone like a young man?”
Josie bit her lower lip and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Her mother sucked in her breath and pursed her lips.
“Now, Josie, you’re still quite young and there’s plenty of time for that sort of thing.”
Josie nodded again, this time more definitely and in agreement with her mother. She knew her mother would not be pleased but she did not like to keep secrets from her, and while there really was nothing to tell, her heart told her that her feelings and confusion over Arthur would be a secret if kept from her mother, and might be relieved by her mother’s wisdom.
If only her mother would let her speak and allow her to explain, and not be judgmental.
“Yes, I know, and I agree. But this man, he is . . ."
What? Sweet, kind? He has a beautiful smile? No, there was more to him, to her feelings, than that.
“Lost.”
The word came out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying, as if someone had put the word there. She sighed as she realized that God must have intervened and found the perfect word for Arthur, in the context of what she was trying to express to her mother.
“Like a kitten? A lost dog? A grown man? Did he need directions?”
Her mother’s blatant sarcasm made Josie laugh out loud. Her mother heaved a sigh and relaxed a bit as she eyed Josie carefully.
“Okay. Tell me about this lost man of yours.”
It was all Josie could do not to stumble over her words as she described her first encounter with Arthur, his kind smile, the light in his eyes when she spoke of God, the calm she felt with him, the awareness that he was not meeting his family’s approval, and her suspicion that it was his faith, whether long standing or new, that was causing this rift.
Her mother was quiet for a few moments, staring down in to her bowl of stew, and then looked at her only child with a new acceptance for the fact that her little girl was now a young woman, and while she dreaded losing her company on a daily basis, eventually she would meet a man and marry. Her brows dipped and a crease showed on her forehead, though, as she worried about the difference in stations between her daughter and this very privileged boy.
“One must take these things slowly. A friendship with one of his class can be troublesome for the both of you, as you have already discovered. I would not discourage you from speaking with him if you feel comfortable, but it is best if you aren’t alone, and there should be no touching. If you feel so strongly about him after seeing him only today, you will be tempted to allow familiarities such as hand holding, but that leads to kissing, and that is a slippery slope.”
Josie looked into her lap. Her cheeks burned, she knew, and she felt guilty, but she knew she had done nothing wrong. It was right to tell her mother, but she felt as if she were being scolded like a young child. Didn’t her mother trust her?
She knew how to behave with men and if her mother only knew how she had had to manage those drunken men at Mrs. Davenport’s parties . . . well, she would be impressed and surprised at her daughter’s ability to handle such situations, but she also would insist on Josie’s leaving employment at a home that allowed such actions. It would be too complicated to try to explain without problems, so Josie decided to accept the patronizing tone and tried to focus on her mother’s concern, rather than her chiding.
It was natural for her mother to worry, she told herself, and she shouldn’t be so sensitive.
She looked across the small wooden table, worn to several shades of brown and smooth from years of use, at the stress on her mother’s face.
“Of course. Everything will work out as it should, as you always say. I promise to be careful, and to be aware, and you will not be ashamed of me.”
Her mother looked relieved and picked up her spoon, digging into her stew and bringing a mouthful of potatoes and carrots in a thin broth up just above the bowl.
“I know you won’t, dear. You’re a good girl.”
The good girl smiled back and mirrored her mother’s movements, thinking of Arthur and wondering how his interview with his own mother went, sure that it did not go as well as hers with her own did.
She sent up a silent prayer for Arthur and his family, that their love would reconcile them despite their differences.