Innocent Darkness (6 page)

“I’m so happy the bustle is still in fashion. It does wonders for a lady’s figure.” Her mama adjusted Noli’s hat. The little blue derby with the feathers and a tiny bird had always been Noli’s favorite.

“You look every inch the lady. Now act like one.”

“Yes, Mama.” Even though dread pressed down on her chest until it became hard to breathe, she’d grit her teeth and bear this dreadful place. As her mother often pointed out, she’d shamed her family enough. Hopefully, by the time she finished with Findlay, she could talk her mother out of ball season and Boston and into something more practical—like allowing her to build steam sewing machines for the shop to increase productivity.

Officer Davies got out of the carriage, handing them their valises. The driver carried Noli’s steamer trunk. Her mama insisted she pack her nicest things, which included the two new dresses her mama had made her for her sixteenth birthday, and a ball gown Mama thought would fit with a few tucks in the bust, waist, and hips.

A ball gown? Did her mother honestly expect her to attend balls at this place? Not that she’d want to attend such dreadful things anyway. Society boys were so boring.

A few other possessions hid under the clothes, placed in the trunk when her mother wasn’t looking—books, letters from Jeff, and a few photographs, including one of her father.

Officer Davies took her mother’s arm. The building looked lifeless, abandoned. Though in excellent repair it lacked the warmth inhabited homes possessed. The school seemed to have large grounds. Hopefully they were allowed in the gardens. If kept indoors she’d go mad.

They passed through the gate and walked down the path, her heart growing heavier with every footfall. When they walked up the front steps to the porch, Noli noticed the polished brass sign. “Findlay House.” That was all. Perhaps Findlay really was a boarding school.

But her stomach wouldn’t loosen; her fists wouldn’t uncurl.

Something about this place made her want to run away and hide in her tree house.

Officer Davies rang the bell. A young woman about Noli’s age opened the door. She wore a green day dress, though not nearly as fine as the ones her mother made. The girl’s blonde hair hid under a white lace cap, a piece of fine embroidery in her lily-white hand.

She smiled listlessly. “May I help you?”

Officer Davies replied, “I’m Franklin Davies and this is Mrs. Braddock and her daughter Magnolia. I believe Miss Gregory is expecting us.”

“Of course, please come in.” She showed them to the sitting room and went to get Miss Gregory. Her blue eyes didn’t sparkle, her step held no bounce.

“What a lovely young lady. This looks like such a nice place.” Her mama beamed as they sat down on the uncomfortable, overstuffed furniture in the stiff and formal sitting room which reminded Noli of a museum they’d visited once in Boston. The stale air smelled of bleach, supper, and a scent she couldn’t quite identify.

Noli stifled a snort at her mother’s comment. Back when she associated with girls like that, she’d hated them. She sat next to her mother; Officer Davies took a matching chair.

“They have an excellent success rate, and I’m sure Noli will acclimate quickly.” Officer Davies gave her a pointed glance.

A woman entered. “Good afternoon. I’m Miss Gregory.”

Miss Gregory looked every inch the archetypal evil headmistress from her tall, thin appearance and shapeless gray suit, to her stiff walk and beady eyes, and her prim, graying bun.

Officer Davies stood and led the introductions. Miss Gregory took a seat in another uncomfortable looking chair and Officer Davies sat down.

“Do you require anything else, Miss Gregory?” the girl in the green dress asked from the doorway of the stuffy sitting room.

“Thank you, Rosemarie. Please ask Claire to bring in a tea tray before you return to your sewing.” Even Miss Gregory’s smile looked pinched. Rosemarie curtsied and left.

“Rosemarie’s one of our very successful girls.” Miss Gregory folded her pale, boney hands into her non-existent lap. “She came to us in such a state, suffering terribly from bouts of hysteria. She’s much better now and will return to her parents soon. Rosemarie may even be ready for ball season this fall.”

“How lovely.” Her mama smiled. “Perhaps Noli will attend ball season in a year or two. I have family in Boston willing to sponsor her.”

The headmistress’s beady eyes focused on Noli. “How lucky you are, Magnolia.”

She simply smiled, trying not to fidget or blurt anything out even though she wanted to. Ladies were silent, quiet, demure. She didn’t want to go to Boston and was secretly glad they hadn’t been able to afford school. Of course, her mama didn’t tell Grandfather Montgomery that, afraid he’d make them return to Boston. Mama also refused his money, saying Jeff supported them. If they moved to Boston, they wouldn’t be at home when her father returned.

Miss Gregory took a sip of tea. “Here at Findlay House, we take special girls dealing with many difficulties and teach them to be dutiful daughters, good wives, and productive members of society. Usually these things aren’t entirely the girl’s fault.” She looked at Noli’s mother. “It’s not entirely their parents’ fault either. Sometimes parents need help, sometimes special girls need extra attention. That’s what we do here at Findlay. We give girls what they need in order to live up to our and society’s expectations. Many of our girls go on to make good matches, bringing their parents great pride.”

Ugh, enough with the marriage already. Why couldn’t being a scientist or inventor be considerable a respectable profession for a woman?

After a soft rap on the open door, another girl entered. This one had neatly plaited, wheat-colored hair, topped by a white fabric cap. She wore a blue, high-necked dress with white lace, buttons, and a starched white apron. The dress hung to the floor in soft folds and held the appearance of a uniform. That wasn’t what they wore … was it?

“Your tea, Miss Gregory?” The girl carried a silver tray set with a tea service and was shorter, younger, and plumper than Rosemarie had been. Her strong and slightly calloused hands did more than embroider and wave a fan.

“Thank you, Claire,” Miss Gregory replied.

Claire set the tray on the table and turned. “Anything else, Miss Gregory?”

Miss Gregory stiffly smiled. “We have little in the way of service staff here at Findlay House. Instead, the girls assist in upkeep. This provides discipline and teaches them how to run a household efficiently.”

“Even manual chores?” Mama’s lips pursed in disapproval. Although fine ladies did many things around the house, manual chores weren’t among them. Noli privately wondered who would clean the house and do laundry. Not only was her mama too tired at the end of the day, but such tasks were below women like her. She might be distressed gentry and forced to work, but she’d never stoop to scrubbing her own floors and would never admit Noli did.

Miss Gregory poured the tea. “Here at Findlay we find hard work good for the soul. It pushes out impurities. The harshest of household tasks are usually meted out for punishment. Girls do equal parts work around the house, schoolwork, and lessons on decorum, spending free time sewing, playing an instrument, sitting in the garden, and for some, learning skills to make them productive in society. Claire is learning to cook.”

Noli didn’t mind hard work, but her stomach still wouldn’t unclench. Something about this place just felt
wrong.
What, she didn’t know.

“How long have you been here, Claire?” Officer Davies asked.

“Nearly a year, sir.” She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Do you like it here?” Concern lurked in Mama’s eyes. Good.

“Findlay’s a wonderful place.” Her words felt rehearsed and insincere.

Miss Gregory gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Claire. You may return to the kitchen now.”

Claire curtsied and left. She seemed nice enough, unlike that stiff, mindless Rosemarie.

“Claire is one of our girls making very good progress. Being unmarriageable, we’re teaching her to cook and bake so she can get a position at a fine house.”

What made her unmarriageable? Plumpness might be unfashionable, but some men liked women with certain large parts. She didn’t seem brain-addled.

During tea, Miss Gregory went over the curriculum and expectations. Noli sat up straight, not that her corset permitted her to slouch. Ankles crossed demurely, she kept her gloved hands folded in her lap when not holding her teacup. Every time she bit her lip or twisted her hands her mother glared. Nothing about this place seemed to put her at ease.

“Would you prefer being assigned to mending and sewing, Magnolia? Being a dressmaker’s daughter, I expect you’re quite accomplished already. Do you wish her to be trained?” Miss Gregory asked her mother.

Mama took a sip of tea. “I’m a dressmaker out of necessity, since my husband disappeared, which I explained in the cable. I’d like to have Noli educated as a lady in order for her to make a match and carry on our family’s good name.”

“I see.” Miss Gregory looked down her nose at Noli as if she found it to be preposterous but wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“May I work in the gardens?” Noli asked softly. “I’m fond of bo—” Botany probably wasn’t ladylike. “Flowers … and flower arranging.”

“Noli grows lovely roses.” Mama smiled, pride radiating in her voice. She always kept vases of them in the shop.

Miss Gregory sniffed again. “For now, you may.”

Since she had to be there, and had to do hard work, she might as well do something she enjoyed. Noli could hardly picture a girl like Rosemarie working in the gardens. Hopefully, not all the girls here were like that.

After tea, Miss Gregory gave them a tour of Findlay. Rosemarie and friends sat sewing in a parlor. The halfdozen thin and pale girls held vapid expressions, and wore lovely dresses, though nothing half as nice as what her mother made. They chattered inanely the way polite ladies should, sewing or working on complicated embroidery samplers.

A web of unease wound around Noli as the tour continued. Everything at Findlay was immaculate, from the perfectly straight photographs on the walls to the polished hardwood floors. There wasn’t a cobweb in sight.

Yet it lacked something.

A soul. Yes, Findlay House lacked a soul.

“When can Noli come home for a visit?” Mama kept looking around, as if trying to absorb the austere sobriety of Findlay House.

Didn’t she see what a horrible place this was?

Miss Gregory looked down her pointed nose at them. “I’m afraid we don’t do home visits. They interfere with the continuity of our curriculum. If Magnolia takes to the program, she should only be here two or three years.”

Startled, Noli curled her fists and opened her mouth to protest, closing it when her mother glared. Two or three years? She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Boarding school lasted at least that long. Longer. Still …

“I understand. Continuity is central to your program?” Her mother’s voice softened.

“Continuity, order, and discipline are the pillars holding up Findlay House.”

Discipline? Noli’s stomach knotted.

“When Magnolia shows good progress, she may write letters,” Miss Gregory added.

“May I visit? What about Christmas?” Mama’s face creased with worry.

Good. Maybe Noli wouldn’t have to stay. Something just didn’t feel right about this place. Though if she told her mother, she’d say it was just Noli not wanting to leave home.

Maybe it was. No. Maybe?

Miss Gregory shook her head. “We believe new girls adjust best with no initial contact from their friends and families. Only our very successful girls get family visits on Christmas and their birthday.”

Noli’s heart skipped a beat and it was hard not to make a sound. She’d counted on letters from V, Jeff, and her mother to keep her sane in this dreadful place.

She didn’t get even a glimpse of any other girls on the tour nor did they view the sleeping rooms. Actually, they didn’t venture upstairs at all.

They returned to the sitting room. Noli still couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling.

Miss Gregory turned to her mother and Officer Davies. “I’d like to speak to the both of you privately.” She turned to Noli. “Be a good girl and sit quietly. I’m sure you have some sewing to occupy yourself with.”

“Yes, Miss Gregory.” Her valise held a sampler—and a book. After they left, she withdrew the book and the sewing. The book belonged to V.
Nicomachean Ethics
by Aristotle. One of his favorites and quite fascinating. Miss Gregory probably wouldn’t approve. Noli read until footsteps echoed down the hall. Quickly, she tucked the book into her valise, and began sewing. Her mother, Officer Davies, and Miss Gregory entered.

“Magnolia needs to say her goodbyes now if she’s to settle in before supper. I’ll leave you alone for a few moments.” The headmistress left and Noli tucked her sewing away, leaving her valise on the floor next to the settee.

Noli’s knees shook under the heavy fabric of the blue traveling gown as she hugged her mother, whishing she didn’t have to say goodbye yet. “Please don’t make me stay,” she whispered. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“We don’t have a choice, remember? Adjust quickly; learn well, so you may come home.” Her mother’s eyes glistened with tears and she drew her thumb down Noli’s cheekbone.

Emotion choked Noli. “I won’t ever become an air pirate, I promise.”

Her mama’s eyes widened, but she didn’t comment on Jeff. Instead, she gestured to the room. “It does look like a lovely place, such nice girls.”

Such vapid, pretty dolls. That’s all most society women were.

Her mama proved a bit of an exception, but she always struggled to hide anything possibly construed as “improper,” or even worse, “madness.”

“This place is successful only if you cooperate, Noli. I want you to give Miss Gregory your full cooperation.” Officer Davies’ tone held a finality that she felt down to her very core.

“Yes, Officer.” Casting her eyes down, Noli looked at the toes of her dainty black boots. Before Noli could add anything, the ominous clack of heels brought Miss Gregory’s return. “It’s time for you to go, Officer Davies, Mrs. Braddock.”