The Davenports(56)

It was too much. She stood and looked him in the eye. With a voice that was much steadier than her legs, she said, “I have to go.”

“Helen, wait,” he pleaded.

She opened the door and slipped quickly out, knowing he would not follow.





CHAPTER 25


    Amy-Rose



After seeing that the girls were ready to receive their guests, Amy-Rose had removed her severe black dress and white blouse from the hanger behind her door. Harold and Edward, sticklers for protocol, were always nicely starched, but Amy-Rose, Jessie, and the others were not required to wear a uniform. Except on special occasions. Made invisible by her station and attire, Amy-Rose had watched from a distance and tugged at the waist of her dress.

Soon, this will all be behind you, she’d thought.

Olivia looked beautiful in a white chiffon gown, her waist cinched to the size of Mr. Lawrence’s hand, which now guided her around the room to everyone’s delight. After doing Olivia’s hair, Amy-Rose had noticed her old friend had dressed quietly, with as much enthusiasm as Helen, who had disappeared shortly after the gathering moved from the dining room to the ballroom. The night had gone without a hitch; she was happy to see Olivia enjoying herself.

Now Amy-Rose flitted around the room, a nondescript fairy carrying liquid spirits, refilling champagne flutes and carrying away empty dessert trays. The dancers, flushed with drink and merriment, rushed to switch partners as the music changed. Fresh flowers from the gardens decorated the tables, and refreshments flowed freely. Dinner was a success, which was to be expected. It was like watching a painting come to life.

“Amy-Rose!”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Tremaine,” she said, removing the napkin on her shoulder to absorb the champagne soaking into the tablecloth.

“My dear, what were you looking at?”

“Olivia?” she said. She hoped her voice carried more confidence than she felt. She was watching the older girl dance, but it was not what captured her attention.

John had walked into her line of sight. Each time she caught a glimpse of him, she remembered the moments they shared, the kisses. They made her pulse quicken. Just the thought of his hand on her bare skin, the way his lips pressed against her own, sent shivers through her. From afar, she admired the fit of his tuxedo. John was by far the most handsome man in the room. His confidence glowed around him as he mingled, charming each guest. As he spun Ruby around the dance floor, she couldn’t help imagining herself there.

Snap out of it! Amy-Rose gave Mr. Tremaine an apologetic smile and moved away.

Before she could do something truly stupid, Amy-Rose was pulled aside by an older Black woman dressed in the latest fashion. Diamonds dripped from her ears and flashed at her wrists. Her smile was wide and eyes bright, like she held a secret.

“My name is Mrs. Davis,” she said. Her eyes raked over Amy-Rose, setting the young maid into a panic. Three times a widow, Maude Davis had amassed a small fortune that she multiplied with savvy investments along the South Side. Has she seen me staring at John? Amy-Rose thought, horrified.

“Can I get you something, ma’am?” she asked.

“The Davenport girls look splendid tonight, even by their standards. Am I correct in assuming you had a lot to do with it?” Mrs. Davis pointed an open hand to Olivia, now dancing with another gentleman.

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Amy-Rose Shepherd.” She braced herself. Every maid has heard some horror story of the help being “let go” for getting too close to a man of the house. Mrs. Davenport cared for her, she knew, but loved her children more. A scandal like that would hurt the girls. She tried her best not to fidget.

The older woman nodded. “You’re very talented.”

Amy-Rose exhaled in a rush. “Thank you.” She was aware Mrs. Davenport spoke of her talents to the other ladies, but she never thought they would remember.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

As Mrs. Davis walked away, a sudden burst of pride emboldened Amy-Rose. Her encounter with the accomplished businesswoman was proof that her doubts of her capabilities were not too great to overcome. And hers was an opinion that mattered. One that carried weight with the Davenports.

Amy-Rose let herself imagine what it would be like if John Davenport, the ardent bachelor, were to choose her as the girl to call his wife. This was another story among maids. A fairy tale, she thought. Still, how could he not see her as more than the help given the quiet, private side of himself he’d shared with her? She was dangerously close to deeper feelings taking root.

And then John smiled at her. The one she thought he saved just for her. Something shifted then. Something deep and vital.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to miss her after all.

She picked up a fresh champagne bottle and skirted around the dance floor. The guests, the music, and the warning bells going off in her mind faded into the background. In their brief rendezvous, they did more than embrace. They exchanged sheltered dreams and hidden disappointments, and even the hungry fears they kept at bay with brave smiles and hopeful plans. She arrived at the edge of John’s group.

“I’m working on something to present to the board,” John said to the small circle around him.

“Champagne!” called one of his friends when she came within earshot.

John laughed. There was that dimple again! “This could be the last bit of fun I have before I return to school, or start full-time at the office,” he said.