Page 68 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

His forehead creased in concern. “Miss, is something wrong that you need your maid’s support?”

“Well, yes, you don’t know what it is like being a young woman in search of a husband. The pressure is intense. Willa’s kind face will be a great comfort to me when I have to speak to those potential suitors.”

Understanding dawned on the butler’s face. “Say no more. I’m sure the pressure to marry well is heavy on your shoulders. Your father will expect you to find a successful husband just like himself.” He put his free hand to his chest. “Washington might not be the very best place to find a sincere husband. The men here are politicians and because of that are well versed in the art of lying.”

“I will keep that in mind, sir, but for my peace of mind, I would like to continue forward with the evening. My father went to a great deal of trouble to make it possible.”

He bowed. “I will find something less complicated for your maid to do.” He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “She’s not homely, which is a great help. I have found that guests do not respond well to unattractive waiters. It upsets their appetite.”

I ground my teeth at the comment but said nothing more. I felt like I was caught on a train and there was nothing I could do to keep it from barreling down the tracks. I didn’t want it to stop completely, just slow down.

The butler, who was still holding the coffee, turned to me. “Come with me. We will have to find a uniform for you if you are going to be in the dining room.”

Emily smiled at me. “Perfect.”

Perfect wasn’t the word I would have used. I didn’t think it was perfect at all.

Emily went back to the dinner party, and I followed the butler through a hidden door in the wall. He looked over his shoulder. “Don’t look so afraid, miss.”

“I’m not afraid.” My wavering voice betrayed my fear.

“My name is Dexter. I have been a butler here at the Willard for over twenty years. Nothing happens at this hotel that I don’t know about.” He paused.

“Oh,” I said.

“Nothing,” he insisted. He stopped in front of a closet. “There are extra uniforms in there. I trust you will be able to find your size. There is a changing room at the end of the hallway. When you have finished, come back to this spot, and I will give you your duty for the evening.” He walked away.

I stepped into the closet and saw a line of black-and-white maid dresses and caps. There were shoes as well, but I opted to wear my own shoes. I still remembered how my toes ached from wearing those too-small shoes when I first arrived for my interview at the Dickinson home weeks ago.

I gathered up the dress and walked down the cold hallway. There was a scraping sound behind me. I jumped and looked over my shoulder. A gray mouse froze in the middle of the hallway. We stared at each other for a moment, and then he scurried away.

I let out a breath and continued down the corridor. In the changing room, I found a number of ladies’ clothes on hooks. It seemed that several of the hotel maids changed into their uniforms for work here.

I quickly put on the borrowed dress. The sleeves were a little too short for my long arms. I pulled at them and sighed. The skirt was a little too short and brushed the top of my ankles when it should have reached my heels. I hoped that Dexter and the Dickinsons wouldn’t notice the ill fit of my clothing.

I smoothed my hair in the broken looking glass on the wall and went back into the hallway. Dexter stood outside of the dress closet where I had left him.

He scrunched up his forehead. “The dress is a bit short.”

“I’m tall. It was the best fit I could find.”

He sighed. “I hate to imagine what my mentor would think of me allowing a maid in the dining room with a dress too short in the skirt and sleeve.” He shook his head. “If it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped. Miss Dickinson wants you in the dining room, and our goal at the Willard is to fulfill all the guests’ wishes that we possibly can. That is what we are going to do.” He turned around. “Follow me.”

Instead of taking me back through the hidden door in the lobby, I followed Dexter through a weaving trail of servants’ passageways in the hotel. When he came to a stop, he pointed at the door. In a low voice he said, “The dining room is through there.”

“And what do you want me to do when I go in the dining room?” I asked in an equally low voice.

“Nothing. My staff is well trained. You are there to support Miss Dickinson. Stand in the corner and be quiet.” His tone was stern.

I frowned.

“Now go. I have much work to do.”

I went through the door. I found myself in the same dining room where I had met Mr.Dickinson for the first time when the family had planned the party. The two gas chandeliers sparkled above in the carved ceiling, and a golden cloth covered the table. The dishes adorning the table were the white and blue-lined plates and saucers with the scalloped edges that Mrs.Dickinson selected at the planning meeting. The table was set for a party of sixteen, and the only women at the table were Mrs.Dickinson and her daughters. The rest of the attendees were men and seemed to be from all walks of life. I recognized the people from Amherst, but my eyes went to Matthew immediately. I noted that he looked quite nervous sitting with so many learned men from Washington.

Next to Matthew sat a balding man with blue eyes and a long face. He nodded at something Matthew said and seemed to be engaged in the conversation.

I couldn’t catch what they were saying as another man was giving a passionate speech. He wasn’t directing his conversation to anyone in particular. He was a young man with a dark beard and piercing eyes. He said, “The Whig party has no future if it does not take a stand one way or the other on the issue of slavery. It has to pick a side to survive. It’s all but been torn apart from it. So many of our members have left for the Republican or Democratic Parties because there is no official stance. Some even have declared the party dead.”

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