Ravenscraig Read online

  “Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Willows,” the housekeeper said as she straightened her cap and smoothed her apron.

  “My goodness, Mrs. Butterfield, I’m so terribly sorry,” he answered. Seeing she was startled but not harmed, he continued on as if nothing had happened. “Mr. Chadwick is coming by tomorrow morning at half past nine o’clock. Please make yourself available so that we may discuss the upcoming arrangements for the household.”

  Mrs. Butterfield gasped. With her eyes popped wide open, she appeared stupefied with fear.

  “What is it, Mrs. Butterfield? Are you ill?” He looked at her curiously. “The new staff will need to know what my expectations are. Of course you will have your own questions of Mr. Chadwick.”

  “Questions, sir? I’m afraid I don’t understand. What questions might I have for Mr. Chadwick?”

  “Whatever is wrong, Mrs. Butterfield?” Rupert was impatient to get to Beth to tell his news and had not expected to be sidetracked by a flustered housekeeper. “I know we are not going to be moving for some time yet, but there is a great deal that will need your attention. You will have a great many responsibilities to attend to in the coming weeks.”

  Mrs. Butterfield couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “You mean that I will continue in your employ, Mr. Willows?”

  “Of course you will, Mrs. Butterfield,” Rupert said slowly, as though speaking to an idiot. “Why ever would you think otherwise?”

  “Well, sir, it’s only because you’ve sent the lot of the household staff here packing and I thought that included me!” The words rushed out, punctuated by a sound that seemed to be both a cry and a hiccup.

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” Rupert suddenly realized the predicament he had caused and immediately changed his tune. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Butterfield. Please, do come and sit down a moment.” He guided her to the settee in the hall. Too agitated to do anything but pace, he launched into repairing the problem he had caused. “My heavens, it completely slipped my mind to come seek you out to tell you the news. I’m so terribly sorry. I’ve been so distracted with the new house, you realize.”

  By this time she had pulled out a crisply ironed handkerchief and was sobbing into it.

  “Let me be clear, Mrs. Butterfield. There are two staff members who will be coming to the new house.” Rupert spoke as though soothing a child. “Henry will continue to be my driver, and it is my desire that you head the housekeeping staff at Ravenscraig. You will report to Mr. Chadwick, the new butler, but you will continue to have all of the responsibilities for cooking as you do here. I will be hiring additional staff, as I wish to be sure that you are not overburdened. If you need anything, speak to Mr. Chadwick. He will train and supervise the wait staff and the groundskeepers. I’m sure you will both get along.”

  “Oh, dear me. Please excuse my nerves, Mr. Willows, I thought I’d been sacked with the rest of them. Mr. Jenkins was in such a rant about the dismissals, you can’t imagine.” She blubbered her relief into her crumpled handkerchief.

  Rupert remained standing and awkwardly reached out to pat her lightly on the shoulder.

  “There, there, now, Mrs. Butterfield. In fact, I meant to tell you that you would be receiving a raise for your fine service to our family and to compensate you for the additional supervisory duties you will be taking on at Ravenscraig. I do believe Mrs. Willows would divorce me if I were to discontinue your employment in our home. You will accept the position, won’t you? I’ve written your new salary down on your pay envelope, which I have here in my pocket for you. You will forgive my forgetfulness, now, won’t you?” He handed her the envelope and watched her.

  She dabbed her round and reddened face with the soggy handkerchief and looked down at his neat writing. The raise was a generous one and her eyes flew to meet his.

  “Oh, my, Mr. Willows!” she exclaimed as she stared at the number. This new house must be every bit as big as she had heard it was. No doubt Mrs. Willows had something to do with the increase in her pay. She heaved herself into a standing position and spoke with fresh tears in her eyes.

  “Oh my, thank you, Mr. Willows. I apologize for my outburst, sir. It’s just that being a widow, you know how I count on my wages.” She smiled her gratitude and dipped into an unsteady curtsey. “It will be my great pleasure to continue to serve you and Mrs. Willows and the children in Ravenscraig Hall. I shall be very pleased to meet Mr. Chadwick.”

  “Thank you so very much, Mrs. Butterfield. Mrs. Willows will be delighted with the news.”

  “Would there be anything else, sir?”

  “Yes, would you please tell me where I might find my wife?” he asked pleasantly, as if their conversation had been completely erased from his mind.

  “Yes, of course, sir. Mrs. Willows is having one of her sick headaches, sir, and she is lying down in her room.”

  “Thank you.” He strode off down the hall with a spring in his step.

  He tapped gently on the door. When there was no response he quietly pushed it open and saw Beth lying in bed with a silk sleeping mask over her eyes. He moved silently to her bedside and whispered.

  “Beth, are you awake, darling?”

  She remained still, but he could see her chest rising fully as she breathed and he knew she was play-acting. He started to hum and soon the tiniest bit of a smile started at the corner of her lips. He sat gently on the bed and brushed her hand with his fingertips. Then he started to sing a children’s rhyme with words of his own.

  A tisket a tasket, I wish she had a basket

  I wrote a letter to my love and here she’s gone and lost it.

  She laughed lightly and picked up the corner of the mask. “Rupert, you never get the words right in any of these songs.”

  “Oh, I know, sweetness, but I am fun to have around, am I not?”

  “You must want something very special indeed, to be home from the office so early. What is it? Have you bought me another surprise? I haven’t yet recovered from the shock of Ravenscraig.”

  “Oh, you’re not still cross with me about the new house, are you, darling?”

  “No, I’m nursing a sick headache because I have nothing better to do.” She dropped the mask down over her eyes again.

  “You are still put out with me then.”

  He rubbed her hand, waiting for her to peek out from under the mask. Try as she might, Beth couldn’t help but enjoy his attention. He was an impossible man, a spoiled man with a gift for charm like no other man on earth. He started to sing again, and she sighed and lifted the mask off, smiling back at him. He gathered her up in an embrace and kissed her ear.

  “Oh, I do love you so very much, Beth. I just know we are going to be happy at Ravenscraig. Give it a chance, my sweet. It might grow on you.”

  “Rupert, as God is my witness, I swear that there isn’t a single man in the world who could possibly be more persuasive than you are. Yes, I will do my best to become accustomed to Ravenscraig. Of course, some of the more revolting features will have to be modified before I would dare consider taking up residence there.”

  He feigned acquiescence. “Yes, the gargoyles will be removed, my love. Unless, of course, you think we could give each of them a name. Perhaps in getting to know them you would come to like them,” he teased.

  She swatted him with her sleeping mask.

  “Name each of them rubbish and knock every one of those nasty little heads off of that house!”

  “Your wish is my command, my queen.” He stood up and with a great flourish pretended to be sweeping a hat off of his head as Sir Walter Raleigh might have done in a previous age of gallantry.

  “I’m not well, Rupert. Leave me to rest.” She sank back into the pillows and did her best to purse her lips into a pout. “This beastly weather doesn’t help. Look at this blinding snow coming down already. It isn’t even the end of October.

  “Winter is ever so long here, and I just hate feeling cold with that horrible north wind cutting right through to
the bone. It was never quite so bad in Montreal. I detest winter here.”

  “It’s a dry cold,” he quipped.

  “You stop it! Whoever started this nonsense promoting that a dry cold was a benefit was not thinking about temperatures that go to forty degrees below zero!” She punched his chest in play and he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

  “I have a cure for your malaise, my dear. As a matter of fact, that is exactly why I am home early this evening.”

  He pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. It was a letter.

  “What is this now, Rupert?”

  “Well, now, why don’t you read it and we’ll see,” he answered.

  She held the letter to the light of the window and began to read.

  “Dear Mr. Willows, it is our pleasure to confirm the room reservations for you and Mrs. Willows from the first day of December, 1895 until the thirtieth day of January, 1896! Rupert!” She laughed with delight, and hugged him. “Where?”

  “Well, keep reading,” he smiled.

  “Please advise us as to your transportation schedule and we will be happy to have our driver meet you at the train station on your arrival in St. Augustine.”

  “St. Augustine? We are going to Florida?” Beth fell back against the pillows, unable to repress her glee.

  “I wanted to take you on a special holiday to allow the new house to be set up in our absence,” Rupert explained, taking her hand and drawing circles on it with a fingertip.

  “How divine, darling!” She was truly delighted. “Florida, my dear! Sunshine and warm breezes, the ocean, palm trees. A complete escape from this brutal Winnipeg winter. What a lovely surprise, Rupert!”

  “Well, you gave me the idea when you told me about that magazine article you read about the Ponce de Leon Hotel. It does sound very grand, and quite honestly, aside from getting away from the ghastly winter, I thought it would be a marvelous opportunity to expand my business contacts.”

  “How so, Rupert? Are you going into the hotel business?”

  “Oh, you do make me laugh, darling! Who might you imagine our fellow guests will be in Florida? I’ve done a little searching on my own. I learned that the Ponce de Leon is considered the Winter Newport. It has become the destination of choice for a great many society people from New York who travel to Florida for “the season”, as they call it. That means we can be assured that we will be in fine company. Wintering at this exclusive hotel provides a natural sorting process to cull out the lesser classes.”

  “Rupert, my love, I do believe you are becoming a terrible snob!” Beth said, already thinking of the wardrobe she would need for the trip.

  “I’m quite serious. It will be a most interesting opportunity to make contacts for future business. It is my duty to the Province of Manitoba, don’t you think? Every businessman in our city should be seeking out new relationships with influential people, and telling them of the investment opportunities here. Don’t you agree?”

  “Well, yes, I do, when you put it that way, Rupert.”

  “I am also very anxious to make the acquaintance of Henry Flagler.”

  “Oh, just a minute, why do I know that name?” She tapped her lip.

  “He was in the article you showed me about the hotel.”

  “Oh, yes, yes. He’s the owner isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Rupert answered. It appears that being a founder of the Standard Oil Company and a partner of Rockefeller wasn’t enough for the man. He now seems to be terribly keen on developing a hotel industry in Florida. He’s building a railway too. I intend to meet him. Befriend him, actually.”

  “Do you think you might encourage him to invest in Winnipeg?”

  “Beth, my dear.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You never know how connecting to a man with so many accomplishments can change one’s fortunes.

  “Now, come, darling. Get out of these silly bedclothes, and come down to the parlor so I can enjoy your company before dinner. We shall share a glass of sherry to celebrate. Do you feel up to it?”

  “Well, yes, I do. Rupert, I do believe you have cured me of the winter doldrums. My headache seems to have completely disappeared.”

  “That’s the way.”

  “Oh, dear. Rupert,” Beth suddenly remembered. “What about the children?”

  “That’s why we have a house full of servants, darling!” Rupert laughed. “The staff will take very good care of Emma. She’s barely three, after all. She’ll hardly know you are missing.”

  “She turned four in June, Rupert.”

  “Oh.” He was genuinely surprised by this information, but quickly recovered, so as not to spoil the mood. “Well, time does fly, doesn’t it? And the boys, well, they are boys who will learn to be men one day. It will be good for them. In the meantime, all of the nonsense involved in setting up the new household will all be taken care of in our absence and you will come home to a fully functioning, well organized home. It will be so much easier for you.”

  “I will have to shop. I don’t have a thing to wear.” Beth was completely caught up in the excitement.

  “Of course you will shop! I expect you will want to stop at Montreal so we may have a visit with your mother. And we’ll plan on a few days in New York City as well. I anticipate I will have a couple of business meetings to attend while you see to your wardrobe, and we’ll enjoy a play or two on Broadway. What do you say?”

  “Oh, Rupert. I do think this is a splendid plan.”

  “Wonderful! I see the color returning to your cheeks. Now, please do get out of this bed and come downstairs.”

  He kissed her cheek and she laughed lightly. As he got to the door she called after him.

  “Rupert. You are certain that two months will be enough time to have Ravenscraig ready? I won’t set one foot in that monstrous house until it is ready.”

  “I live for your happiness, my dear,” he announced as he waved the letter and headed for the door. “I’ll be waiting in the parlor.”

  Chapter Eight

  Letter from America

  March 18, 1897

  Ziporah perched on the little stool and leaned her head in to rest it lightly on the welcoming warmth of the cow. She worked her hands gently into a rhythmic pull. One, two, one, two, just like Isaac had shown her. The heady scent of the fresh milk rose and filled her with a sense of peace, and she started to hum a little song to the cow. It was a sweet little love song that Mama always sang as a lullaby.

  Tum bala, tum bala, tum balalaika,

  tum bala, tum bala, tum balalaika,

  tum balalaika, shpil balalaika,

  tum balalaika, freylekh zol zain!

  She thought of the last day she had seen her father. At first it was very hard, but as the days passed, the ache lessened a little at a time. Soon the days had turned into weeks and the weeks into months. It had been almost a year since he had said good-bye. Soon it would be Passover. She wondered how Papa and her grandfather would celebrate Passover in Winnipeg. Who would cook the special holiday foods for them? Every day they talked about Papa. Usually it was a small comment. “Papa would like this soup,” Mama would say, or “Your papa would be proud to see how much butter you sold today, Isaac.”

  Their greatest joy was the arrival of baby Mendel. His arrival had been very confusing to Ziporah who could not understand how storks could come with babies in the winter. Storks came to build nests in spring. Everyone knew that. But Mama knew more, and, sure enough the stork brought Mendel when the ground was covered in snow. Mendel was a happy, chubby baby who gurgled with delight and was spared the heartache of missing the papa he had yet to meet. He was named for their great grandfather, the father of Zaida Baruch. Mendel Zigman was his name.

  “A man’s name,” Baba had said and was happy. He was a good baby with a joyful heart who helped all of them heal from their longing for Papa.

  Ziporah sighed. She fixed her mind on her father’s face. It wouldn’t come. She couldn’t clearly recall his feature
s. It had been such a long time since he left.

  Sunlight found its way through the cracks in the stable and dappled playfully on the straw. The cow mooed. Ziporah smiled and mooed back. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day that could bring good things. Maybe today there would be a letter from Papa. Mama said there was nothing to worry about, that letters from Canada, so far away, took a very long time to come. They knew from the two letters they had received that Papa had made a safe trip to Winnipeg and that he and Zaida were well and working. There was nothing to worry about, Mama said. Better we should think of how exciting it will be to all be together in the new country.

  Ziporah was not at all sure where Canada was, but she knew that it was like America: a country so far away that once you were there, you would never come back. It was hard to understand how Canada was not America, but Mama assured her it was a different country. In Zalischyky, no matter where a letter came from, the shout went up in the village, “America! A letter from America!” Some got letters from New York or Toronto, others from Philadelphia, Montreal, or Cincinnati. Everywhere, it seemed people were talking about going to America. All of the cities and towns were strange names to her. But the only letters that came from Winnipeg were theirs.

  One day, perhaps soon, they would be packing to begin their journey. Deep in her heart, Ziporah knew that Mama was right. She had to be patient like Mama and Baba. Maybe it was easier for grownups.

  She had heard the streets in America were paved with gold. She was young, but this idea of gold on the streets? No, this she knew this could not be true. If it were, they would already have tickets and be on their way. That is how she knew.

  “Maybe there will be news today,” Ziporah said to the cow. She firmly believed that if she said these words everyday, in the same way, and in the same place that it would come true, that somehow her words would be answered and a letter would appear. So, in this way she had a special relationship with the cow and never had to be reminded to take up the milk pail. She liked the little barn and their new little house, though it had taken her a while to get used to it. Ukrainian people made their homes and farms a little differently than their own people did, but she liked it just fine now.