4 

Logically Charlotte could tell herself it did not matter how often she checked the time. The hands of the clock did not move any faster. Still, she glanced at the timepiece on the kitchen mantel over and over. The family was due back any minute now, and the house was as ready as it could be. Charlotte and Sarah sat in the spotless kitchen, hesitant to move lest their shifting cause disorder they would not have time to remedy. The baby amused himself on a blanket on the kitchen floor. Charlotte watched him in her peripheral vision, not permitting herself a full-face gaze.

One more night had passed with her son slumbering across the hall, but still Charlotte had no plan for how to withstand the blustering storm when the truth leaped from her heart to the Bannings’ faces. And surely a storm was coming if she did not simply take her son and leave. She missed Lucy Banning Edwards keenly. Lucy would have known what to do.

“What was that?” Sarah jumped up from the table and lurched toward the door leading from the kitchen into the servants’ hallway.

Charlotte followed. “The servants’ carriage must be here. That means the family will be right behind.” Looking past Sarah through the window, she saw the carriage pull up alongside the servants’ entrance. Sarah flounced into the hall without looking back at the baby playing happily on the blanket. Relishing the private moment, Charlotte smiled broadly at her son, who responded by leaning to one side to get to his knees and beginning to crawl toward her. In an expert movement and with a giggle of delight, he left the confines of the blanket.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Charlotte swooped in to pick him up. She snuck in a kiss and settled him on her hip just as she heard the voices in the servants’ hall. From the sounds, she concluded that Karl, an under-coachman, had driven one of the smaller carriages and brought home the cook, the parlor maid, the ladies’ maid, and a groom. Footsteps and chatter filled the hall.

Mrs. Fletcher appeared in the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. “That’s a baby!”

“Yes, it is.” Charlotte forced herself not to smile with pride and said the words—technically true—she had carefully rehearsed. “He turned up in the yard on Tuesday.”

“What do you mean, ‘turned up’?”

Sarah pushed her way past the glut of staff still shedding belongings in the hall and burst into the kitchen. “We found him in the laundry basket in the courtyard. I’ve been put in charge of him.” She reached possessively for the baby and transferred him to her own hip.

Mrs. Fletcher raised an eyebrow at the slender stranger in her kitchen. “I assume you are Sarah Cummings.”

“Yes, and I’m to be the nanny.”

“My understanding is you were to begin as a scullery maid and be of some help with the never-ending work in the kitchen.”

“That was before this situation arose.”

Mrs. Fletcher’s gaze sputtered toward Charlotte. “Where is Mr. Penard? I can’t have this child underfoot in my kitchen.”

“I’m right here.” Mr. Penard pushed open the door from his butler’s pantry. “I’m afraid we have no alternative for the moment. I will of course speak to Mr. and Mrs. Banning as soon as they are settled.”

“Why should they concern themselves with an abandoned child?” Mrs. Fletcher’s face bore only confusion at the notion.

Charlotte glanced up and flickered a smile at the familiar faces she had not seen in a month. By now Elsie, the ladies’ maid, and Lina, the new parlor maid, had removed their hats. They stood wordlessly with Karl, the under-coachman.

“My suspicion is that the child was left for Mrs. Edwards,” Mr. Penard explained to the onlookers. “It is not our place to decide his disposition. I will speak to the Bannings tomorrow morning after breakfast. In the meantime, none of you will make any reference to his presence within earshot of the family. Is that clear?”

Charlotte scanned the group, seeing nods all around. This was not an edict any of them would want to violate. A few more hours. One more night at best.

“Your arrival can only mean we are to expect the family within the hour,” Mr. Penard said. “I have never known Mr. Banning to be imprecise in his travel arrangements. Please sort yourselves out immediately and take up your posts. This is not a half day off for any of you.”

Mrs. Fletcher sighed, looked back at Sarah, and said flatly, “I’m sure he’s a charming child, but the kitchen is a dangerous place for a baby. If you fancy yourself a nanny, then I expect you will keep him out of my way.”

Sarah’s eyes flashed. “I grew up at St. Andrew’s. I know a thing or two about babies!”

“Then do a thing or two about this one.”

Archie Shepard pulled on the reins to slow the duo of Belgian draft horses as he turned onto Prairie Avenue. The entourage had made good time traveling down from Lake Forest, arriving within a few minutes of the time Mr. Penard expected them. Archie drove the largest Quinby carriage, carrying Samuel and Flora Banning and Mrs. Banning’s sister, Violet Newcomb. Behind him was a carriage with the top down, allowing the three Banning brothers—Oliver, Leo, and Richard—to enjoy the open air. Only Richard had spent the entire month in Lake Forest. Though Oliver and Leo had careers and social lives to attend to, all three had spent the final week with their parents and returned together. A third coach carried luggage and household supplies not needed in Lake Forest during the winter. The family might return to the lake for the odd weekend before the weather turned completely, but the summer holiday was ended.

To Archie, the house looked just as it had a month earlier, with its solid oak front door embedded in stone facing. In many respects it was a welcome sight. But Archie was already missing the cooler air that blew around the Bannings’ lake house. He had lived in Chicago his entire life, yet the August heat and humidity wilted him every summer, especially when he was required to wear a full livery.

Archie swung down from the bench atop the carriage and reached for the door.

“Every year at the end of the summer, I am amazed at how grateful I am to return home,” Flora Banning said when Archie pulled the door open.

Archie offered his hand, and she took it to aid her exit.

“I do wonder if I ought to go directly to my own home.” Violet Newcomb shifted in the seat and leaned toward the door herself.

“Nonsense,” Flora answered. “It’s Thursday. The entire family makes a point to be home for dinner on Thursdays.”

“But we’ve been together for a month, Flora, and before that we had all the flurry of Lucy’s wedding. A few quiet days would be welcome.”

“I insist you come inside,” Flora said. “We’ve been in the carriage for hours. Mrs. Fletcher can prepare some refreshment and you can have a satisfying dinner before Archie takes you home. Tomorrow will be soon enough for your own staff to resume their duties.”

Archie now offered his hand to Miss Newcomb, who smiled at him as she took it. “Thank you, Archie.”

Samuel Banning emerged from the carriage and immediately checked his pocket watch. “We’re right on time. Penard should have everything ready. Perhaps I’ll telephone the office.”

Flora swatted at her husband’s arm. “Samuel, you promised me you’d finish the week on holiday. You can go back to that dreary law office on Monday.”

“It’s not dreary to me, my dear.”

Despite Samuel’s gentle rebuff, Archie could see his employer had no serious intent to return to his office prematurely.

“Why are these people loitering?” Flora wrinkled her nose at the gaggle of onlookers gathered on the corner of Eighteenth and Prairie to climb back into their carriage. “I’m of a mind to tell them all to go home and leave us alone.”

“Pay them no mind at all, dear.” Samuel took his wife’s arm. “It’s all part of the promotion of the world’s fair. It will be over soon enough.”

With the family on their way to the front door, where Mr. Penard already stood waiting to attend their wishes, Archie secured the carriage door, climbed to the driver’s seat, and clicked his tongue. He would have to drive around the block to enter the coach house from the most efficient direction, and then he would have to oversee the grooms to ensure the horses were properly cooled and brushed. His recent promotion to head coachman pleased him, though he believed his future was not fixed on the coach house.

His thoughts strayed to the scene that would greet him when he entered the house again after all these weeks. The slim form of Charlotte Farrow had haunted him the whole time he was away. Her face, sometimes calm but always secretive, was a careful harbor of her mysterious emotions. He had watched her for months, speaking a kind word whenever he had opportunity and noticing the flush it caused in her freckled complexion. Archie hoped she would be at her post in the kitchen when he finally stepped through the servants’ hall.

Sarah had to admit that dinner preparations in the Banning house were far more complex than she anticipated. The kitchen operated on as strict a routine as the kitchen at St. Andrew’s, all to serve an elaborate dinner for six, rather than an elemental meal for four hundred. The food stores Charlotte had arranged provided all the resources Mrs. Fletcher needed for cold cucumber soup, two kinds of fruit bread, baked trout, roast goose, garlic-seasoned potatoes, fresh garden greens with apricots and walnuts covered in a tangy dressing, and the family’s favorite red velvet cake. The table laid with china, crystal, and sterling silver was as beautiful as anything Sarah had seen in a painting or picture book. When the family gathered, the electric lights would be turned off, and the twin candelabras rising from the floral arrangements would be lit. Polished silver would be luminous in the gleam of candles.

Sarah had managed to absent herself from much of the fuss during the meal preparation, taking the brat upstairs for an afternoon nap and opting to indulge in one herself. The creature had fussed a bit more than usual, until Sarah relented and changed his diaper. The cloths he had soiled would soon need washing or he wouldn’t have a fresh one. Sarah resolved to mention this to Charlotte as she closed her eyes and dreamed of dinner.

Charlotte knew from the rhythmic patter that it was Sarah on the narrow back stairs. Besides, she was the only one missing from the assembly in the kitchen, where the servants had gathered for their evening meal. Blowing out her breath, Charlotte willed herself not to turn from the stove to gaze at her son the instant Sarah entered the room with him. Mrs. Fletcher stood next to her at the stove, basting the family’s goose as Charlotte tended the chickens the staff would consume momentarily.

“What have you done with the tablecloth?” Sarah said brusquely. “I can’t put it . . . him . . . directly on the floor.”

Charlotte swallowed the impulse to speak sharply and did not turn toward Sarah. “The tablecloth should be right where you left it. I assure you I have not borrowed it.”

“What have you made for him to eat?”

“If you mash up some potato, I’m sure he can manage,” Charlotte suggested, “and you’ll find bananas in the larder.”

Sarah did not bother to smooth the blanket before she plopped the child down with a huff. “I would think his meal preparation was your responsibility.”

Charlotte felt Mrs. Fletcher’s scrutiny as she lifted a pot lid to stir the potatoes.

“You may think you are nanny,” Mrs. Fletcher said to Sarah, “but I rather think you have simply been given temporary charge of a distraction. This should be resolved in the morning and the two of you will have nothing to squabble over in my kitchen.”

Charlotte stifled a moan. Henry might be sent away as soon as the morning. She was not prepared to leave so soon. The thought of making her peace with St. Andrew’s after all turned her stomach.

Across the table, Archie Shepard was trying to catch her eye. Charlotte recognized the effort but did not surrender to the urge to satisfy him. His eyes would ask for an explanation she could not give.

After their own meal, the staff moved smoothly into serving the family meal. Mr. Penard and Archie had both changed to white-tie formal wear to serve dinner. Charlotte was so used to seeing Archie serve soup that she no longer wondered why he continued in a footman’s role once he became head coachman. In her newest, crispest white apron, Charlotte took up her post against a wall in the dining room, waiting to quietly move between courses to remove dishes to the butler’s pantry. She willed color into her face as she imagined the devastation the morning could bring if no alternative dawned during the long night.

The family had finished the meat course and put their forks down. Charlotte stepped forward to remove the meat dishes as Mr. Penard carried in the garlic-seasoned potatoes. As she lifted the plate from in front of Oliver Banning, she noticed Mr. Penard had leaned hard enough against the butler’s pantry door that it remained propped open—surely unintentional. In a year’s time, she had never seen Mr. Penard take a wrong step. The fastidious butler would never abide anyone else’s error in allowing the family to see into the place from which their food appeared. Surely he would quickly and discreetly close the door and hope none of the family had noticed.

When she moved to Miss Newcomb’s place, Charlotte nearly dropped the china. The butler’s pantry remained wide open to both kitchen and dining room, and toddling into the dining room, upright and independent, was a small boy with a round face, feathery brown hair, and vivid blue eyes.

His first steps!