“I know you’re still hurting,” Arthur attempted to placate him.
“Oh, you do?” Thomas retorted. “You know exactly how I feel? She was the love of my life,” he said bitterly.
“Yes, and in case you have forgotten,” I lost someone as well. And I don’t just mean your mother. You didn’t just lose your wife Thomas, she was like a daughter to me. I loved her just as much as you did. Her presence has left a gaping hole in this family. Robbie will be one in a few weeks, he needs a mother.”
Thomas stopped straightening his collar and looked at his father in disbelief. “Are you seriously suggesting what I think you are suggesting?” His anger was growing by the second.
Arthur straightened and looked his son in the eyes. “We need a woman to take care of the house, not just Robbie. There’s too much work for just the two of us.”
“Or a woman to keep me in check?” Thomas challenged his father.
“I think a godly woman could be exactly what we need.” He ignored his son's remark and attempted once more to get through to him.
Thomas shut down at the mention of God. He closed the wardrobe door and strode across the room. “If you’ll excuse me, Father,” he said in the monotone he’d adopted to hide his feelings since the passing of his wife. “I have work to do on the ranch. As you have so kindly pointed out, there is more than we can handle.”
He left the room without looking back.
Chapter Three
Wilmington, Delaware
A few days later...
Rosaline dunked the scrubbing brush into the pail of soapy water and continued to scrub the wooden boards of the grand entrance hall on her hands and knees.
She had rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and positioned a woolen cloth under her knees to protect the fabric of her black uniform, and it served as an additional buffer to polish the floor as she scooted along, ingenuity that had thus far gone unnoticed by her employers.
Her uniform wasn’t in the best condition to begin with. The fabric had already faded after years of continual labor and washing. Mrs. Voss insisted on Rosaline paying for new clothes out of her own wages, meager as they were, so it was better to take precautions.
Her hair was pinned back loosely under her white cap, with a few loose tendrils defying the clips. She had to tuck them behind her ears now and then as they fell in her face.
“Ah, there you are girl. I have some good news,” Mr. Voss broke her concentration as he strode into the hall, his boots muddied after his morning ride, destroying all her hard work with the scrubbing brush.
Rosaline quickly stood and curtsied before addressing him. She’d been walking on eggshells since the night of her performance in the town hall, putting her best foot forward in an attempt to avoid further hunger. “Good day, Sir.”
He didn’t bother returning the greeting. “I have managed to procure another opportunity for you to sing.” He tugged on the fingers of his riding gloves and pulled them off, placing them next to his top hat and riding crop on the hall table. “I’m not sure if your last performance can be salvaged unless you heed my instructions and sing the songs I tell you to.”
“Yes sir,” she said compliantly.
“One of the other farm owners has asked if I would allow you to sing at their party. You will of course have to stay at their lodgings on your own. I can’t spare the time to go with you.”
He looked her up and down with distaste. “This time you will have to practice the words until you can sing them in your sleep. The consequences will be severe if you embarrass me like that in public again.” He glared at her, raising his eyebrows. “There are thousands of girls who would envy the opportunity to sing in public, let alone work in a grand house such as this,” he said before turning his back on her and walking towards the stairs.
“Yes Sir.” She bit back the retort that she would gladly trade places with any one of them, given half the chance.
Just then Mrs. Voss came into the hall looking for Rosaline.
A lady of around fifty with a shapeless frame, her white-blonde hair was streaked with grey and neatly pinned back into a bun. Her eyes were a greyish blue that would have been very pretty if they ever showed a hint of kindness, and she was wearing her white day dress that highlighted her fair complexion. Enid Voss had once been the talk of the county, a prized debutant that Mr. Voss had snapped up and claimed as his own. It was not a love match, but one born of greed and grounded in a concern for status.
She paused on her way out of the study when she caught sight of her husband. “Good morning dear, did you have a good ride?” she asked?
“Quite satisfactory, thank you,” he said, passing her on his way up the stairs without as much as a second glance. “I have warned the girl of her upcoming performance, Enid. I leave it to you to make her presentable.”
Mrs. Voss looked to Rosaline standing idly beside her pale of soapy water. “Are you not finished yet, girl? I have been looking everywhere for you,” she barked, her voice losing the honeyed tone it took on when addressing her husband. “Hurry up. I need you to fetch some things from the market. I’ve left the list on my desk.”
She scrutinized Rosaline from head to toe. “And for heaven’s sake, fix your hair and cap before you leave. You look a fright! Mr. Voss is right. You need tidying up. Forever with that loose hair.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Rosaline curtsied as Enid Voss made her way up the stairs.
