The House Of Secrets. Elizabeth Blackwell

night for weeks, the money earned from that one event brought Evelyn one step closer to her dream of going to college.

      Thanks to Lavinia Brewster’s wedding, Katherine was able to set aside enough money for Evelyn to enroll in a teacher-training program when she was eighteen. Over the next five years, she continued her studies in fits and starts, completing courses whenever she had earned enough money tutoring the spoiled children of rich Baltimore families. During visits home, Katherine would update her on the local gossip, usually dominated by news of the Brewsters: William hadn’t come home for his father’s funeral, Lavinia had given birth to a baby girl. To Evelyn, the Brewsters seemed more like legendary figures than real people. Until the day she was summoned to their mansion on the hill. The place where her life changed forever.

      It was a few months after she had received her teaching degree. Evelyn was accompanying her mother to a meeting of their church’s Bible study group, which usually focused more on gossip than Gospel. She had recently received an offer to teach at a private girls’ school in Philadelphia. The salary was tempting, but Evelyn was torn at the thought of leaving her mother. As the two women walked through town, Evelyn was distracted by the decision she faced. Then a carriage clattered past and stopped suddenly just a few steps ahead of them.

      “That’s Mrs. Brewster,” Katherine noted, walking quickly toward the carriage.

      As they approached, an elegant older woman leaned out a side window. An enormous plumed hat only partially obscured her high forehead. She held her neck and shoulders rigid, as if to counteract the drooping skin around her chin and eyes. Her thin lips curved in a perfect half-moon of a smile, but her deep blue eyes held no trace of warmth.

      “Mrs. O’Keefe,” she said.

      “Mrs. Brewster.” Katherine tilted her head in submission. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Evelyn.”

      Evelyn started to bow, but quickly pulled herself upright. It was bad enough that her mother was acting like a servant.

      “You’re the one attending the ladies’ college?” Mrs. Brewster asked, her soothing voice at odds with the stiffness of her posture.

      “Yes,” Katherine confirmed. “Evelyn received her degree in June. She was the top-ranked student in her class.”

      Mrs. Brewster stared at Evelyn intently. “Do you plan to pursue teaching?”

      “Yes, I’m considering an offer in Philadelphia.”

      Mrs. Brewster nodded thoughtfully. “Lavinia’s daughter, Beatrice, has just turned six, and she’s beyond the capabilities of her nanny,” she said. “We shall have a proper English governess once she is older, of course, but for the next few years she needs someone to teach her writing and comportment and that sort of thing.” She raised her shoulders slightly in a hint of a shrug. “If you’re free Friday morning, we can discuss the position in further detail.” It was phrased as an invitation, but Alma’s tone made it clear she wasn’t used to being denied.

      “Thank you so much,” Katherine gushed, filling the void of Evelyn’s silence. “She can be there at whatever time is convenient.”

      “We’ll say ten o’clock sharp,” Mrs. Brewster declared. “See Hayes at the front entrance when you arrive.”

      Katherine thanked her effusively, but Evelyn said nothing as Mrs. Brewster slid the carriage window shut and drove away.

      Katherine grabbed Evelyn’s arm and pulled her daughter close.

      “Oh, darling, how wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Imagine, a position with the Brewsters!”

      “Until the real English governess arrives,” Evelyn said.

      “You can’t possibly take offense at that!” Katherine scolded with a gentle slap to Evelyn’s arm. “Besides, you weren’t planning on working more than a few years, were you? After you earn some money, you’ll want to think about getting married.”

      “I suppose,” said Evelyn.

      “And she wants you to come to the front entrance,” Katherine gushed. “That’s a very good sign. When I started doing alterations for her, I had to use the servants’ entrance. It was years before I was welcome at the front door.”

      “No matter which door I walk through, I’ll still be a servant,” Evelyn said, not bothering to hide her irritation.

      “Have those professors at school been filling your head with socialist nonsense?” Katherine scoffed. “The Brewsters’ money has supported us through difficult times, as you should know. Mrs. Brewster deserves the courtesy of your consideration.”

      “Yes, Mother,” Evelyn said.

      “I know she seems high-and-mighty, but that’s just her manner. Besides, if you’re Lavinia’s daughter’s governess, you’ll hardly see Mrs. Brewster. Lavinia has her own home on the estate.”

      “Then why is Mrs. Brewster arranging the interviews?” Evelyn asked. To that, Katherine had no answer.

      In the days before the interview, Evelyn came up with a plan. The more she thought about the position in Philadelphia, the more appealing the offer became. This could be her chance to make a mark on the world by teaching young girls to value themselves and their intelligence. She could still visit her mother every weekend. Katherine might even be convinced to move to Philadelphia with her.

      But she couldn’t insult the Brewsters. The key was to make sure Alma Brewster didn’t want to hire her. She could accomplish that by being herself: independent and outspoken. She would not beg for the position, and she would not cater to Alma Brewster’s snobbishness. Mrs. Brewster would dismiss her, and that would be that.

      It was only when the butler Hayes—his rotund body waddling on two thin legs like Humpty Dumpty brought to life—led Evelyn into what he called the morning room, that her self-confidence faltered. She had prepared herself to stand up to Alma Brewster. But she hadn’t expected to be faced with a roomful of people, all eying her curiously as she entered.

      Mrs. Brewster immediately took charge.

      “Miss O’Keefe, I appreciate your promptness,” she said. “I am often appalled by the tardiness of people your age. Please, come in. I will make the introductions.” She led Evelyn toward a pale, nervous-looking young woman clutching the hand of a small girl whose flushed face was surrounded by tangled blond ringlets.

      “This is my daughter, Lavinia Preston, and my granddaughter, Beatrice.” Lavinia nodded at Evelyn, while Beatrice stared at her resentfully.

      “Beatrice was attempting to hurl herself into the garden fountain a few moments ago,” Alma said. “It is precisely this willfulness we need to remedy. Isn’t that right, Lavinia?”

      Lavinia nodded again, but still said nothing.

      “This is Beatrice’s father, Winslow Preston,” Mrs. Brewster said, indicating a middle-aged man with a bloated stomach that strained against his waistcoat. He bent his head and shoulders quickly in a brief acknowledgment of Evelyn’s presence.

      “And, of course, Charles,” Mrs. Brewster added, as if the other person in the room needed no introduction.

      Charles Brewster was a favorite subject of local gossip. Nearly thirty and still a bachelor, his marriage plans were the topic of endless speculation. His wealth and status put the most prestigious possibilities within reach. But for all the discussions of his money, his social connections and his talent for business, Evelyn had never realized how handsome he was until now. He had his mother’s erect posture, but what came across as snobbish in Mrs. Brewster made him appear dignified. His dark brown hair was combed carefully back from his forehead, not a lock out of place. A moustache was neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes focused on Evelyn, observing everything about her but giving nothing away.

      “A pleasure to meet you, Miss O’Keefe,” he said smoothly, tipping his head. “Mother, if you intend on a lengthy interrogation…”

      Mrs.