Chapter 50 Cynthia
Cynthia
Something had changed since Cynthia had left Iris’s room the night before.
She seemed to have gone out of her way to find Cynthia alone.
She had stopped and started to speak to her several times that day but had cut it short when another maid or a guest appeared in the area.
It had taken until lunchtime before Iris spotted her in the second-floor corridor and waved her into an empty room that needed cleaning for a new guest. She pushed the door firmly into place behind them and, alarmingly, turned the lock.
Even more worryingly, she gestured that Cynthia should take a seat on one of the sitting-area chairs.
With its creamy silk moiré upholstery, there was no way Iris would be inclined for the staff to risk soiling it with their well-worn uniforms if she did not fear that Cynthia might lose her legs out from underneath her.
Iris paced up and down, a small coffee table between them.
Cynthia fixed her attention on the vase of withering flowers on the table’s center, remembering Iris’s admonishment to attend to flowers as soon as she noticed any lack of freshness.
The housekeeper abruptly stopped her pacing and dropped into the chair opposite her.
“I received a phone call from Miss Arden this morning,” she said.
That explained it. Iris was always keyed up when she had any contact with Miss Arden. Maids passed along the news that the resort’s owner had gotten in touch whenever they were made aware of such a thing. It was far better to give Iris a wide berth on those days.
“Is there another important guest headed our way? Someone even more important than Vivian Shaw? Not that I can imagine who that might be,” Cynthia said.
“That wasn’t the reason for her call. She telephoned to insist that I dismiss you from your post, effective immediately.”
The edges of the room faded and blurred. Iris had been right to suggest that she sit. Her legs began to rattle back and forth without her permission.
“Fired? But what for?” Cynthia asked.
“She says that she has it on good authority that your character is questionable and that your presence reflects poorly on the entire resort.”
There was only one thing that came to mind to explain such a turn of events. “My character? Do you think someone has been saying something about what happened at the party?”
There had been a risk in running from the party.
There had been one in refusing Glenn at all.
Girls were never the wronged party when things got so far out of hand, especially not if the man was wealthy.
Had Pauline told someone what had happened?
Had Glenn? Surely Mrs. Putnam, Vivian Shaw, and Iris could not have done such a thing, could they?
Iris’s eyes grew wide in her face. “I truly have no idea. I would expect that was what she was referring to, but she would only say that she was told you were not the right sort of girl to have on staff. I tried to change her mind, but it was no use. She told me that you had to go, and if I did not see to it, she would be looking for a new housekeeper as well as a maid.”
Cynthia sank back against the firm back of the chair, grateful that it at least was supporting her. The look of misery on Iris’s face was pitiable, and despite her own worry, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
“As much as I want the job, I don’t need it to put food on my table.
I hope that speaking up for me hasn’t jeopardized your chances at the year-round position.
” Cynthia felt the sincerity of her words as they passed her lips.
She honestly could not imagine making things difficult for Iris.
In fact, she would make them as easy as she could. “You needn’t fire me. I’ll quit.”
Cynthia wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Iris’s lower lip wobble.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
It was a good question, and one that depended on what she hoped to salvage.
Not that she was sure there would be any chance of that.
She doubted there was enough time left in the season to find another job in Mount Vernon or to attract and secure the attentions of another young man as wealthy as Glenn.
Not that she wanted that anyway. It was Calvin she would be sorry to part from.
Cynthia stood. “I’ll go to my friend Pauline’s place to say goodbye, and then I suppose I will head home.”
“I am so very sorry, Cynthia,” Iris said, her voice muffled as if a lump dampened the sound.
“I’ll be fine. I hope that you will be all right, considering you’ll be down a maid again.
” She stood and extended her hand. Iris heaved herself to her feet and rounded the table.
She pushed her hand away and wrapped her arms around her instead.
Cynthia could smell the starch in her uniform and the faint scent of lemon oil from a polishing rag tucked in Iris’s pocket.
Willing herself not to cry, she gave Iris a tight squeeze before breaking off the embrace.
“If it is all the same to you, I’ll just collect my things and head out. I couldn’t stand to say any goodbyes.”
Iris nodded. Cynthia could feel her gaze upon her as she held her head up and strode out the door.