Free A Sensible Arrangement by Tracie Peterson Page B

and seemed to carefully consider her words. “I’m seventeen. I know how to work hard, although I don’t have experience as a lady’s maid. I’m a good learner, and I have an eighth-grade education.” The latter she said with some pride, and Marty couldn’t help but smile.
    â€œThat’s wonderful. So you can read and write should I need you to handle correspondence for me.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. My penmanship is quite good.”
    Marty nodded. “That’s definitely a benefit to us both.” She could see this bolstered the girl a bit and hoped to encourage her further. “I’ve always appreciated those who understood the value of education.”
    â€œMy father saw schooling as very important.”
    â€œAnd who is your father?”
    The girl frowned. “Mr. George Chesterfield, deceased.”
    â€œI am sorry.” Marty could see the pain in Alice’s expression. “Has it been long?”
    â€œNo. Just about five months ago. He was . . . murdered.”
    Mrs. Landry let out a gasp that echoed in the room. Marty tried to handle the news in a less stunned fashion, although she was rather shocked to hear the declaration. “Can you speak about what happened?”
    Alice nodded. “We were walking home in the evening. My father was carrying some papers for a banker named Mr. Morgan.”
    Marty immediately recognized the name. Apparently Mr. Morgan was a very busy man. Alice continued to speak.
    â€œFather often carried papers and money for Mr. Morgan—it was his job as a bank manager. I suppose the men who attacked us knew that. The men stopped us and demanded that my father turn over the satchel he was carrying. Father refused and they took hold of me and . . .” Her voice faltered.
    Marty thought to stop her, but for reasons she didn’t entirely understand, she remained silent and let the girl struggle through her explanation.
    â€œI . . . tried to fight them off.” She paused and bit her lower lip. The pink scar seemed to pale a bit as Alice clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t strong enough,” she finally said. “One of the men held me while another put his knife to my face. She touched her hand to the scar. “He . . . he . . . cut me before I even realized what was happening.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, Alice. What a terrible thing to endure.”
    Alice looked Marty in the eye. “My father screamed at the men to take the satchel and let me go. He rushed them, and the men forgot about me and pushed my father away. He fell to the ground and hit his head. I don’t remember anything after that because I fainted. When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. They told me Father had died from striking his head. They weren’t even sure I would make it. Honestly, at that point I didn’t care if I did.”
    â€œI can well imagine,” Marty replied. She looked across the room to where Mrs. Landry was dabbing tears from her eyes. “Mrs. Landry, would you arrange some refreshments for us?”
    â€œOf course. Poor wee girl,” the housekeeper said, heading from the room.
    Marty turned back to the blond-haired girl. “Do you have no other family?”
    â€œNo. No one. I’m alone and I need to work in order to support myself. Up until now, some friends from church have helped me get by, but they’re moving away and I have no one else. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.” She looked up with an expression that seemed to plead for Marty to assure her that she hadn’t done wrong.
    â€œNonsense. You haven’t wasted my time. In fact, I’m very honored that you would share your story with me, Alice. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
    â€œI’m a quick learner, Mrs. Wythe. Truly I am. I know how to sew and clean. I can fix your hair and maybe even learn some of the new styles.