Ophelia ran her fingers through her long ebony hair. She read the
advertisement over again for probably the fiftieth time.
"No, it says 'ages,' the g sounds like a j in that word," Race enunciated.
"It didn't sound 'at way in de other word!" Ophelia was getting impatient. She leaned closer to Race, hoping he'd notice the cologne she'd dabbed on while in the grocery earlier.
Race sighed. "Read it again."
"Girls Wanted," she read, grinding the g sound, "ages sixteen to twenty. Must be healthy, strong…."
"Stop," he said as he got up from his chair and reached for his ragged brown coat. "The g in 'strong' sounds like the g in 'girl.' But, Opie, I gots to be on me way. Me boy Mush is supposed to fight tomorra, an' I ain't gotta clue where 'e is." Then he mumbled something about a bet he couldn't afford to lose. Race started for the front door of the boarding house. "See ya later Missus Donnelly," he yelled to the mistress of the house. "Bye kid," he winked at Ophelia and clucked his tongue before disappearing into the darkness.
Ophelia slammed her fist onto the kitchen table, and then buried her face into her hands. He was always so preoccupied with his not-so-clever attempts to become fabulously wealthy, that he didn't even notice her! Her attempt to make him jealous with that ad didn't phase him at all. Even the jasmine perfume she stole failed to capture his attention.
He had told her that the mail order bride thing sounded like a good plan. He said that she should go out west. His exact words were "yer tough, you could tame all em cowboys. 'Sides, ain't no reason to stay hea." She didn't remember what he said immediately after that since he had already reached into her chest, tore out her beating heart, threw it on the floor, and proceeded to stomp on it. It seemed her little test to determine his true feelings worked a little too well.
She pushed her chair out from under the table, got up, and stomped into the hall where the looking glass was. Twisting her too-straight hair up into a big knot and holding up, she examined her face, one side then the other. Ophelia thought she was pretty, perhaps a little too skinny, and her nose was too big, although no one agreed with her about her big nose.
Mrs. Donnelly waddled by in her oversized calico skirt, "Ophelia, precious, come in an' finish up dese dishes. An' don't ya worry yer purty little face over that street rat. He will only cause ya' sufferin' in da long run."
Ophelia let her hair down and thought about the man who she would marry someday. And how jealous Race would be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
No one mentioned Sadie's escapades in the garden. Not to her anyway. This time around, she wasn't so bold about her exploits. She couldn't afford to lose this job. She tiptoed around the big townhouse when she didn't have the shield of innocence the children provided. Two days had passed and she couldn't for the life of her figure out who had spied she and Mush in the dark back yard. So she remained suspicious of everyone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Sir, Peter Gould is downstairs."
"Oh?" the count stuttered, "Thank you." Jacob could never remember the maids' names. Too many homes he guessed, too many servants. Except Sadie. He had found out her name from the butler. It was her name he wished he could forget.
Jacob combed his dark brown hair straight back and buttoned up his embroidered vest. Why was his brother-in-law here? His children were already downstairs when he made his appearance. He patted Christian on the head, and Peter was holding little Anna is his arms.
"Father! Uncle Peter says he'll take me to the horse races!" Christian yelled. Didn't that nanny teach these children to speak quietly? When he was young, he was only allowed to speak when spoken to. That's what he gets for marrying an American woman.
"Good, good," he replied. He didn't care what the child did. "How are you Peter?" The two gentlemen shook hands. Peter wore a black suit with tails, perhaps he had come from a meeting. The Gould men were always up to something. Jacob motioned Peter to the sitting room. "Would you like something to drink? Tea should be served shortly," he offered. They both sat down in matching leather chairs, a marble chessboard sat in between them. The room was paneled in red wood and smelt of expensive cigars.
"No," Peter answered, fingering his waxed mustache. "My sister asked that I come by and make sure her children are fine. And that her husband is alone…" He smiled with his last comment. Jacob couldn't figure out what that smile meant. He wasn't so sure that he was welcome amongst his wife's family anymore, but he was also aware of Peter's waywardness with the ladies.
"Quite alone," he commented, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. He looked around for Sadie, but she wasn't anywhere in sight. His children shouldn't be in the sitting room; this was the man's room. Had she taught them anything?
Peter bit off the tip of a cigar. "That's too bad, there are many beautiful ladies in New York." He lit the cigar and took a puff. "Can someone get the governess in here?" he made eye contact with the closest servant, who ran to find her. "Forget the tea, brother, I think I'll have a glass of whiskey."
Sadie entered the room, but she remained close to the walls and silently motioned to the children to come to her. Both children obeyed, and she led them out of the room. "Sadie, have someone else take care of the children tonight. I'd like to have you serve Mr. Gould and I," Jacob commanded. Sadie looked surprised, but quickly collected herself, nodded, and left the room to take the children elsewhere.
Peter gave him and approving smirk. He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. "Jacob, I've got some business ventures I'd like to discuss with you."
"No, it says 'ages,' the g sounds like a j in that word," Race enunciated.
"It didn't sound 'at way in de other word!" Ophelia was getting impatient. She leaned closer to Race, hoping he'd notice the cologne she'd dabbed on while in the grocery earlier.
Race sighed. "Read it again."
"Girls Wanted," she read, grinding the g sound, "ages sixteen to twenty. Must be healthy, strong…."
"Stop," he said as he got up from his chair and reached for his ragged brown coat. "The g in 'strong' sounds like the g in 'girl.' But, Opie, I gots to be on me way. Me boy Mush is supposed to fight tomorra, an' I ain't gotta clue where 'e is." Then he mumbled something about a bet he couldn't afford to lose. Race started for the front door of the boarding house. "See ya later Missus Donnelly," he yelled to the mistress of the house. "Bye kid," he winked at Ophelia and clucked his tongue before disappearing into the darkness.
Ophelia slammed her fist onto the kitchen table, and then buried her face into her hands. He was always so preoccupied with his not-so-clever attempts to become fabulously wealthy, that he didn't even notice her! Her attempt to make him jealous with that ad didn't phase him at all. Even the jasmine perfume she stole failed to capture his attention.
He had told her that the mail order bride thing sounded like a good plan. He said that she should go out west. His exact words were "yer tough, you could tame all em cowboys. 'Sides, ain't no reason to stay hea." She didn't remember what he said immediately after that since he had already reached into her chest, tore out her beating heart, threw it on the floor, and proceeded to stomp on it. It seemed her little test to determine his true feelings worked a little too well.
She pushed her chair out from under the table, got up, and stomped into the hall where the looking glass was. Twisting her too-straight hair up into a big knot and holding up, she examined her face, one side then the other. Ophelia thought she was pretty, perhaps a little too skinny, and her nose was too big, although no one agreed with her about her big nose.
Mrs. Donnelly waddled by in her oversized calico skirt, "Ophelia, precious, come in an' finish up dese dishes. An' don't ya worry yer purty little face over that street rat. He will only cause ya' sufferin' in da long run."
Ophelia let her hair down and thought about the man who she would marry someday. And how jealous Race would be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
No one mentioned Sadie's escapades in the garden. Not to her anyway. This time around, she wasn't so bold about her exploits. She couldn't afford to lose this job. She tiptoed around the big townhouse when she didn't have the shield of innocence the children provided. Two days had passed and she couldn't for the life of her figure out who had spied she and Mush in the dark back yard. So she remained suspicious of everyone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Sir, Peter Gould is downstairs."
"Oh?" the count stuttered, "Thank you." Jacob could never remember the maids' names. Too many homes he guessed, too many servants. Except Sadie. He had found out her name from the butler. It was her name he wished he could forget.
Jacob combed his dark brown hair straight back and buttoned up his embroidered vest. Why was his brother-in-law here? His children were already downstairs when he made his appearance. He patted Christian on the head, and Peter was holding little Anna is his arms.
"Father! Uncle Peter says he'll take me to the horse races!" Christian yelled. Didn't that nanny teach these children to speak quietly? When he was young, he was only allowed to speak when spoken to. That's what he gets for marrying an American woman.
"Good, good," he replied. He didn't care what the child did. "How are you Peter?" The two gentlemen shook hands. Peter wore a black suit with tails, perhaps he had come from a meeting. The Gould men were always up to something. Jacob motioned Peter to the sitting room. "Would you like something to drink? Tea should be served shortly," he offered. They both sat down in matching leather chairs, a marble chessboard sat in between them. The room was paneled in red wood and smelt of expensive cigars.
"No," Peter answered, fingering his waxed mustache. "My sister asked that I come by and make sure her children are fine. And that her husband is alone…" He smiled with his last comment. Jacob couldn't figure out what that smile meant. He wasn't so sure that he was welcome amongst his wife's family anymore, but he was also aware of Peter's waywardness with the ladies.
"Quite alone," he commented, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. He looked around for Sadie, but she wasn't anywhere in sight. His children shouldn't be in the sitting room; this was the man's room. Had she taught them anything?
Peter bit off the tip of a cigar. "That's too bad, there are many beautiful ladies in New York." He lit the cigar and took a puff. "Can someone get the governess in here?" he made eye contact with the closest servant, who ran to find her. "Forget the tea, brother, I think I'll have a glass of whiskey."
Sadie entered the room, but she remained close to the walls and silently motioned to the children to come to her. Both children obeyed, and she led them out of the room. "Sadie, have someone else take care of the children tonight. I'd like to have you serve Mr. Gould and I," Jacob commanded. Sadie looked surprised, but quickly collected herself, nodded, and left the room to take the children elsewhere.
Peter gave him and approving smirk. He leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. "Jacob, I've got some business ventures I'd like to discuss with you."