A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Forty-One

"Don't all talk at once," Bill said.

When his awkward attempt to break the tension failed, he joked to the visitors, "You're lucky you came today. The house is never this quiet."

"I'm sorry." Victoria stepped forward and addressed Marie. "I believe my son made a mistake. We won't be interviewing for the maid's position until next week."

Marie frowned at Bill, who hurried to correct his mother. "Marie isn't applying for Bridie's job. She's a nurse." Victoria was still confused, and Marie attempted to explain.

"Ma'am, Bill here says you're looking for a live-in nurse to care for your three-year-old. He told me you'd be interviewing candidates today. I have recommendations from my agency and my former employer, if you'd allow me just one moment--" She reached into her reticule and withdrew two slender envelopes.

Before Victoria could accept the letters, William came forward and reached for them. "You're a nurse," he said slowly.

"Yes, sir." Marie looked from him to Bill. "Didn't you tell them to expect me?"

"No," William stated, eyes on his son. "We're not accustomed to our seventeen-year-old son making household decisions for us." He opened one of the letters and read carefully. "Your last name is Griffiths. No relation to the Reverend, I hope?"

"Why, yes, he's my brother...is something wrong?"

William had re-folded the letter and neatly inserted it back into the envelope. "I'm sorry Bill wasted your time. My man will take you and your children back to the train station."

"We didn't take the train," the little boy volunteered.

"A friend of Marie's drove us, and he's waiting outside to take me back to the city," Bill added. "So that's it, Father? You're not going to give her a chance?"

"We're looking for someone without...family attachments," William said abruptly. "We simply don't have the space."

Suddenly the teenage girl, who'd been watching the scene unfold with a mixture of embarrassment and contempt, turned to Bill and blurted out accusingly, "You said there was lots of space."

"There is," Bill replied, barely able to contain his anger at his father. "There's an empty guest cottage on the grounds."

"There's not enough room for three people to live in it--" William attempted, but the girl cut him off.

"Let's go, Auntie. I told you these white folks wouldn't want us here."

"India, hush your mouth!" Marie turned to the Scotts, thanked them for their time, and started for the door when Victoria stopped her.

"Please, wait. You didn't come all this way for nothing. My husband and I really need some assistance, and since you're a friend of Bill's--"

"Victoria--"

She ignored her husband and addressed the children. "What are your names?"

Marie answered for them, "These are my niece and nephew. India's fifteen and Sir here will be eleven next month."

"Sir?" Victoria frowned.

"How'do," he replied, smiling.

"What ridiculous names." Lucy rose from the divan in a huff. "Let me know when someone important comes to call," she said to Bill, and left.

"That's Lucille, our eldest daughter. Don't mind her, she can be a bit uncivil at times." Victoria introduced the rest of the household, including the servants. All were polite except Bridie, who excused herself as quickly as possible without saying hello.

"As you can tell, my wife's ladies' maid is expecting a baby soon, and we'll need to replace her temporarily," William said.

Marie held her ground. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I am a nurse. I guess I was a little overconfident, bringing the kids with me and all, but there's not much work in the city for a colored private nurse."

"Look no further," Victoria said generously. "The job is yours on a three-month trial basis. If Cecilia stays healthy and all goes well, it becomes permanent."

Cecilia, who'd been stretched in Rose's lap in the window seat, thoroughly bored, sat up straighter at the sound of her name.

"Perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone," William reasserted himself. "You said your niece is fifteen," he said to Marie. "Has she ever done domestic work?"

"I go to school," India declared. She saw the direction the conversation was taking and she didn't like it.

"Would you like to earn some money after school and on weekends?"

"She'd appreciate that," Marie interjected above India's protests.

"Very well, then. This will work out perfectly," William said, as if the whole thing had been his idea. "Your niece is the same age as Lucy. Our daughter's starting to receive a number of social invitations. She'll need an attendant."

India glared at him, but William was already giving orders. Arnolde and Randolph departed first, the former to start preparing luncheon and the latter to carry the newcomers' luggage to the guest cottage and build a fire, as the structure hadn't been heated since Arnolde moved out. Rose and Bridie were to help them get settled and begin training India.

Josephine approached Sir. "Wanna see our playroom?" At his aunt's encouraging nod, Sir followed her, Richard on their heels.

Victoria showed the new hires into the study, where pay and schedule arrangements would be worked out. She brought Cecilia along, to give her a chance to get to know Marie.

William pulled Bill aside before his son could leave the house. "Try another stunt like that and you'll live to regret it."

Rose found Bridie bustling about the sunroom with a dust cloth and a watering can. She knew Bridie had watered the plants earlier and sensed trouble.

"They hired 'er, did they?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Rose said. "And her niece, as a maid. They're moving into the cottage."

"I knew it." Bridie began fluffing pillows with a vengeance. "Like I always say, the Scotts are too liberal fer their own good. And now young Bill's bringing the lowest form of riffraff into the house. A colored nurse, tendin' to white children! Shameful!"

Rose didn't quite know what to say. "Marie seems rather nice," she offered lamely.

Bridie sniffed. "Maybe you didn't know many coloreds, growin' up on a farm."

Actually, Rose hadn't encountered many Negroes growing up in the city of Philadelphia. Though she'd never seen her father express any animosity toward people of other races and cultures, her mother distrusted blacks and wouldn't even hire them as servants. Negro professionals like Marie were unheard of.

"If they think I'm settin' down to eat with 'er they are sadly mistaken," Bridie ranted.

"Belinda never ate with us."

"Nah, she thought she was too good to eat in the kitchen with the help. And just you watch, this 'un will, too. Comin' in through the front door like she owned the place. They didn't treat me that good when I first started working for 'em."

Rose was growing tired of her diatribe, but before she could make a graceful exit, the older woman stopped her. "You'd best be on yer guard. They'll like havin' that young wench doin' the cleaning; she'll work fer 'alf my wages. Next they'll be wantin' to give 'er your job."

Rose decided this would not be a good time to remind her that she'd be leaving anyway in the summer, after she graduated from Vassar.

As it turned out, Marie, India, and Sir did eat lunch in the kitchen with the servants--save Bridie, who claimed she wasn't feeling well and was going to find a quiet spot to rest. Rose discovered later that Josephine asked her parents if Sir could eat in the dining room with them and they had refused to allow it without giving a reason.

Afterward, Rose went out to the cottage to see if the Griffiths needed anything. She brought along one of her uniforms for India to try on.

"We're going to need to order one in your size, of course, but I thought you'd like to see what it looks like," she said, studying the girl's face for a reaction. She was rather lovely, when she wasn't scowling: a small, lithe body; almond-toned skin; sad doe eyes; thickly pleated jet-black hair.

"I ain't wearing no uniform."

Her aunt stopped hanging draperies at a window and gave India a stern look. "You may not like it, but you'll wear it. Be grateful you have a job and a nice house to live in."

"Auntie, how'm I gonna work and go to school at the same time?" India was near tears.

"I do it," Rose said.

"Mmm-hmm, that lady told us. You go to some big fancy college, come here on weekends and play with the kids."

"India!" Marie scolded. "First of all, that lady has a name: Mrs. Scott. Don't go disrespecting these people that's given us a place to stay."

Just then Sir burst into the cottage, asking permission to go exploring in the woods with Richard and Josephine. Marie was all too happy to let him go, and even persuaded India to join them.

"He'll love it here," she said wistfully, watching the little procession head up the path, Skipper tagging along. "He never been anywhere that had this many trees."

"Are you the only family they have?" Rose asked.

"No, there's my brother John, the preacher. Maybe you've heard of him." She smiled, knowing the Rev. Griffiths made headlines constantly with his justice campaign for Negroes--and that Bill's mysterious acquaintance with him was a sore subject in the Scott household. "He woulda taken them, but he's got seven of his own. Our mother's too old.

"And their mama, well, she's in St. Louis. Least she was last time she sent money, almost a year ago, for Sir's birthday. I would be worried, but this ain't the first time she's disappeared like this."

Rose was quiet, listening.

"My sister Martine was always a flighty one. The children's daddy was a no 'count, high yella gambler and womanizer, but she was sweet on him from the day she met him--and then never married him. Said he'd keep her from her dream of being a singer. He up and got himself killed over a poker game back when Sir was just a baby, and she figured she was free to do what she wanted."

Marie recounted her sister's tale in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she'd learned to accept her as she was. Even as she described how Martine left the children at their grandmother's doorstep years earlier with a note, she showed no malice.

"She always wanted to travel. Said she'd name her first baby after a place she was gonna visit."

"Where'd she get the name Sir?"

"That was his father's idea. He hated the way white folks always call our elders by their first names, said it was an insult. But they'll have to call his son Sir his whole life."

Both she and Rose laughed heartily. "Oh, my goodness, why didn't you stop me from telling all my business? We've known each other less than a day."

"I won't repeat it," Rose promised quickly.

"I know you won't." Marie was suddenly serious, leveling Rose with a long and steady gaze. "You're a trustworthy person. I saw it when I first met you. I hope we can be friends."

They would be.

Chapter Forty-Two
Stories