A Christmas Dream (Hudson House Holiday #1)

Chapter Two

H olland studied her image in the small mirror above the washstand in the room she shared with her sister Savannah, adjusting a curl she’d fashioned by her temple.

“You look nice, Holland. Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.” Savannah handed Holland the hat she intended to wear to their interview with Mr. Monroe.

“We won’t be late,” Holland assured her, settling the hat on her head, then poking in a long sharp pin to hold it in place.

Savannah sighed as she tugged on a pair of gloves. “If you don’t cease your dawdling, we will be. It’s not like we can ride like a couple of untamed heathens over to Hudson House. We’ll need to go at a sedate pace, or all this time we’ve spent looking our best will be wasted.”

“It’s not far from here to there if we ride through the orchards, as you well know. We’ve got an hour before we need to be there.” Holland gave the reflection in the mirror a final glance, then turned to pull on the gloves she’d set out. “If you were so concerned about appearances, why didn’t you insist on taking the wagon?”

Holland hid her grin when Savannah sighed a second time. Vexing her sister was something so easy for her to do, and all too often proved enjoyable.

“You know I hate climbing up in the wagon,” Savannah said with a scowl. “There is no graceful way to do it, at least that I’ve found. I sure wish we had the money to buy a buggy.”

“Well, like Papa always says, ‘If wishes were horses, every beggar would ride.’”

Savannah looked like she considered walloping Holland with her reticule. Holland had no doubt she would have if it wouldn’t further delay them to restyle the hair they’d carefully arranged at the back of their heads.

Holland glanced in the mirror at her recently refurbished hat. It might not be new, but it rested at a delightfully sassy angle on top of her head. The hats had been castoffs from Mrs. Eunice Clampton, who claimed they were dreadfully out of style, even though they’d been new three years earlier.

Holland and Savannah worked for the persnickety woman from time to time when she needed extra hands to help with cleaning or serving at her home. The woman was married to a retired Army general and thought that gave her the right to look down her hooked nose at everyone else.

Regardless of the woman’s finicky ways, Holland was grateful for the apparel she’d shared with them this year. The two weeks in July she and Savannah had worked for Mrs. Clampton as she prepared for a large summer dinner party had netted an unexpected bonus. After the party, when the sisters had returned to help clean up, the woman had gifted them with four gowns. The styles were tragic, overdone with ruffles and trim, but the fabric was expensive and far better than anything they could afford. Holland had chosen a teal-green gown, while Savannah had preferred one in a pale-peach hue. They’d given the blue gown to their mother, and a light-pink dress had been dismantled to make a dress for their little sister Charlotte with enough fabric left over to sew a shirtwaist for Savannah.

Holland and Savannah had remade their gowns, with the help of their mother, into current styles. They were as well-dressed as farmer’s daughters could be.

A thrill of excitement shot through Holland as she looped her arm around Savannah’s and pulled her toward the door. Savannah picked up the letters of recommendation they’d collected from people they’d worked for, including cranky Mrs. Clampton. Together the sisters made their way downstairs.

“Here’s the basket for your brother,” their mother said, holding out the large picnic basket, then motioning to a smaller one. “And one for you to give to Mr. Monroe. From what you said the other day, Holland, the man was nearly starved for home cooking.”

“He ate with slightly more decorum than Alex. I didn’t realize until I’d returned home that Alex never stated his full name.”

“I’m sure the young man was probably so surprised by your arrival, he forgot to share it with you,” said Sarah Drake, patting first Holland’s and then Savannah’s cheek. “If he’s working there today, he might forget his first name when he sees my two beautiful girls.”

Holland laughed, while Savannah scowled and picked up the basket intended for Mr. Monroe. She frowned at their mother. “We aren’t going to Hudson House to cast flirtatious glances at the men laboring there. We’re going to seek gainful employment, in case either of you have forgotten.”

With a grin, Holland snatched a warm-from-the-oven sugar cookie off the tray where they were cooling. “How could we? You’ve mentioned our need to seek gainful employment there a hundred times if you’ve uttered it once since I came home and told you about the interview today. I haven’t heard a word of gratitude from you for my part in the interview being arranged. Perhaps I should tell Mr. Monroe you have no interest in working there.”

“If you dare do such a thing, you’ll wake up in the morning to find yourself as bald as old man Musser.”

Holland paid no mind to her sister’s threat, knowing Savannah would never carry through with it. She kissed her mother’s cheek, shoved the cookie in her mouth, and led the way out the door.

“Holland! Savannah!” Their youngest sibling, Charlotte, better known as Charli, waved at them as she sat in Holland’s saddle on Meadow while their fourteen-year-old brother, Austin, led the horse, along with Savannah’s gentle mare, Fiona, toward the house. “May I go with you?”

Holland smiled at the five-year-old, but shook her head. “Not today, Charli, but we’ll go for a ride another day. I promise.”

To her credit, Charli didn’t pout. Instead, she gave their brother an imperial glare. “Help me down, please.”

Austin rolled his eyes but lifted Charli off the mare’s back and set her down by Holland.

Charli surveyed both of her sisters, then smiled widely. “You are beautiful!”

“Thank you, Charli.” Holland bent down and kissed the little girl on the tip of her pert nose. “You keep Austin out of trouble while we’re gone.”

“I’ll try, but it’s a big job.” Charli stuck her tongue out at Austin when he scowled at her.

Austin took the baskets Holland and Savannah held and waited until they were mounted to hold them up to his sisters. Holland was glad she’d insisted on adding fullness to their skirts with hidden pleats so they’d be able to ride astride without their dresses creeping up to their knees. They didn’t own a sidesaddle, and she likely would have refused to ride it if they did have one in their possession.

She took the basket from Austin, blew Charli a kiss that made the child giggle, then turned Meadow and headed in the direction of the cherry orchard.

“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble for riding through Mr. Hudson’s orchard?” Savannah asked as she waved to Charli and Austin.

“I’m certain. As long as we aren’t stealing the fruit, no one will care if we ride down the path through the trees.” Holland cast a glimpse at her sister and held back a sigh. If Alex, the handsome charmer with coal-black hair and brilliant blue eyes she’d met the other day in the Hudson House library, did happen to be there this afternoon, he’d take one look at sweet Savannah and forget Holland existed.

Savannah was glorious, especially when she smiled. Although the two sisters were nearly the same size, Savannah’s hair was closer to blonde than brown and her eyes were a stormy hue of gray. Unlike Holland, her skin was flawless without freckles, and her upper lip fuller.

Anyone with eyes in their head would skip right past Holland and fasten their gaze on her exquisite sister. Not only was she prettier, Savannah was extremely sensible, intelligent, dependable, and owned a far sweeter disposition, at least to Holland’s way of thinking.

She considered her siblings. Denver, at twenty-three was the oldest. He’d been just two when Holland had come along, and a year later, Savannah had arrived. Boston was born when Denver was six, followed three years later by Austin. They’d all been surprised when Charli had joined the family nine years after Austin’s birth.

While Denver had no interest in farming and loved to work with wood, Boston and Austin both lived and breathed the farm. Austin preferred caring for the animals and milking their small herd of dairy cows while Boston liked working in the orchard best. When they were old enough, Holland knew her brothers would one day take over the farm.

Three years ago, when a stranger had come to Silver Bluff and began buying up land and existing farms, Holland’s parents had been worried about being forced to sell, but Mr. Hudson hadn’t approached them. He had purchased the farm next to theirs, though, where the Langleys had grown apples. The elderly couple had packed up and moved to Salem, to be close to their son and his children.

Mr. Hudson’s workers had cleaned up the orchard, built a road for wagons to get out to the trees during harvest, and removed a derelict fence bordering the Drake property that had been an eyesore. A sturdy pole fence with a wide gate Holland used when she rode over to take food to Denver had replaced it.

“It’s a lovely day,” Savannah observed as they rode to the end of their rows of cherry trees.

“It is a beautiful day, and so warm and sunny. I’ll be sad when the air turns nippy.”

Savannah grinned at her. “That’s because it means the fall work will be completed and you’ll be stuck inside more of the time helping Mama in the kitchen.”

“Or, we’ll both get jobs at Hudson House and Charli will have to start learning to help instead of being a pampered little princess,” Holland said as she leaned over, flipped the latch on the gate, and pushed it open. Savannah rode through, and Holland followed her, then turned Meadow so she could secure the latch.

“We were younger than Charli when we started helping in the kitchen and around the house,” Savannah observed as they continued on their way.

“Exactly. If we don’t get out of the house, that child will never learn how to do anything. She’s far too bossy as it is.” Holland imitated the face Charli made when she wanted one of her siblings to do something for her.

Savannah laughed. “She is a bossy little thing. If she weren’t so adorable, it would be far easier to tell her no.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Holland reined Meadow to a stop as they rode out of the orchard. Hudson House filled their view in the distance. The red roof tiles struck a sharp contrast to the bright blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds. The copper caps on the turrets glistened and sparkled in the sunlight, making the place look more like a castle than a home.

“Oh!” Savannah said, sucking in an awed gasp as she stopped beside Holland. “It is remarkable, isn’t it?”

“It really is. From every direction, it is amazing.” Holland pointed to the east side of the house. “See the stables? Denver showed me how big the stalls are. They’ve set up working areas for the carpenters and stone masons in there. The tack room is nearly as big as our house, and that wing on the side is where they’ll keep Mr. Hudson’s carriages, buggies, and sleighs. The stables have electricity and plumbing, and brass fixtures and hardware. It’s far nicer than most of the houses in Silver Bluff. Denver said the second floor of the stable is where the male staff, with the exception of Mr. Monroe, will sleep. He’ll have a room in the house near the kitchen.”

“And Mr. Monroe is the man we are meeting today?”

Holland nodded. “Yes. He’s Mr. Hudson’s assistant and butler. If I understood correctly, he is the one in charge of hiring the household staff, so you better be ready to dazzle him.”

“I have no intention of dazzling anyone, Holland, and you know it. If we are hired, it will be because we are the best qualified candidates for the positions.”

A snort rolled out of Holland, although she didn’t mean for it to escape.

Savannah frowned at her. “What was that for?”

“Because, darling sister, the best positions are not always given to those who are most deserving of the job due to their skill and ability. The prettiest or those who have a connection to someone at the establishment can hold more sway with the decision makers.”

Savannah appeared to mull that over a moment before she glanced at Holland. “If looks alone secure a position, then you should undoubtedly ride home today with a job at Hudson House.”

Shocked by her sister’s words, Holland smiled at her. “I was thinking the same of you. You truly are a picture of beauty.” When Savannah blushed at the praise, Holland pointed to the conservatory just down the hill from the house. “That’s the conservatory. Denver said they grow vegetables all winter long. Can you imagine such a thing?”

“No, I can’t, but I’d sure like to see it. Just think about how delicious a fresh tomato or crisp cucumber would taste in January.”

“Maybe something exotic like oranges or bananas grow there too.”

Savannah grinned. “You and your oranges. I think the only reason you love Christmas is because we always get an orange.”

“Oranges are one of the many reasons I love the holiday season.” Holland rode past the gardener’s cottage, a quaint brick home that looked as though it had been plucked from an English landscape painting and dropped down at the Hudson estate for the man who oversaw the care of the extensive yard and gardens.

When they reached the end of the wide cobblestone-lined drive that made a U shape in front of the house, Holland stopped and swung off the back of Meadow. She envisioned what the expanse between the two sides of the drive and the house would look like once the plantings were finished in the spring and grass began to grow. Even now, the huge fountain flowed with water that refracted the afternoon sunlight. Denver had mentioned he’d heard the gardener and his crew discussing a lily pond and plantings of flowering trees for the area between the drive and the conservatory located down a slope on the west side of the house.

“Why are we stopping here?” Savannah asked, stepping out of the saddle and looping Fiona’s reins around the same hitching rail where Holland had tied Meadow at the far end of the drive.

“I don’t want the horses to leave a mess by the house for someone to clean up. Out here, it just gets ground into the dirt.” Holland took the basket from her sister while Savannah smoothed her hair and skirts, adjusted her hat, then pinched her cheeks to add a little color. Savannah held the baskets while Holland tidied her appearance. Together they turned and faced the house.

“Nervous?” Savannah asked as they started down the brick path that ran alongside the cobblestone drive.

“Yes. You?”

“Definitely. What if we don’t get the jobs? What if we do?” Savannah looked both hopeful and terrified.

Holland laughed and shifted the basket she carried to her other hand, then gave her sister a one-armed hug. “Whatever happens, it will all work out for the best. We just have to trust in God’s plans, even if we haven’t the slightest idea what they might be.”

“I know, but it is sometimes rather challenging to do that when I prefer things planned out and plainly stated.”

Holland bumped her hip against Savannah’s. “You need more adventure in your life.”

Savannah tossed her a teasing grin. “You provide more than enough adventure for ten people to endure.”

“I take offense at that statement,” Holland said with feigned dismay. “I only try to keep you from dying of boredom.”

“That will never, ever happen, sister dear.” Savannah looped her arm around Holland’s as they rushed up the steps together, and walked through the exterior entry area with a high-domed ceiling lined in cream tiles arranged in a chevron pattern. Three more steps brought them to the big oak door flanked on each side by stained glass panels featuring a bright-blue fleur-de-lis pattern accented by gold scrolls entwined with green leaves.

Holland had just raised her hand to lift the knocker on the door when the portal swung open and Remington Monroe greeted them with a smile.

“Welcome, Miss Drake, and Miss Drake.” He stepped back so they could walk into the marble-floored foyer.

Light spilled into the octagon-shaped space from the semicircle window above the door as well as the round skylight set into the white-tiled ceiling. The walls, also tiled in white, made the area seem clean and bright. The tiled walls and marble floor would be easier to keep clean than wood or painted walls and carpeted floors.

“Thank you for coming today.” Remington took another step back.

“Thank you for the invitation to interview, Mr. Monroe. Please, call me Holland. I’d like to introduce my sister, Savannah, to you, sir. Savannah Drake, this is Mr. Monroe.” Holland made the introduction while observing the man’s state of dress. The other day he’d been attired in canvas work pants with a cotton work shirt and scuffed work boots. Today he wore an expensive tailored suit in stark black with a deep-blue brocade vest, a crisp white shirt, and an expertly knotted dark-blue tie. His hair was immaculately styled, adding to his impeccable and somewhat intimidating appearance.

Then he smiled, and Holland felt at ease, recalling their impromptu picnic with the fabulous view of the river.

“Please, come in. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Savannah, and a treat to see you again, Holland. The place, as you know, is in quite a disastrous state, but the library should be completely finished next week. Mr. Hudson would like to have staff ready, as soon as it is completed, to begin the monumental task of cleaning. Construction dust coats everything. He wants each room cleaned, top to bottom, before a curtain is hung or a stick of furniture carried in, then you’ll likely end up cleaning each room again once the furniture is installed and the appropriate adornments are in place. After the house is up and running, we intend to keep two housemaids and at least two parlormaids on staff to see to the cleaning and upkeep. Mr. Hudson likes things to be dusted daily, then there is the matter of airing the bedding, cleaning the bathrooms, mopping floors, shining windows and mirrors, that sort of thing.”

“Would we be required to handle the laundry?” Holland asked as they followed Remington from the entry past the grand curving staircase, through a room with a bank of windows along the wall, then into a hallway where two workmen were laying more parquet flooring like she’d seen in the library the other day.

“You would not. We’ll hire women to see to the laundry. In a house this size, something needs to be washed, dried, and pressed every day, but Sunday. Mr. Hudson believes everyone needs a day of rest on the Lord’s Day, and no one would be expected to work on Sundays. Employees are also given an additional day off during the week, but those days are staggered so there is always staff on hand. There may arise times when everyone is pressed into service without a weekday off, if the house is full of guests, but other than that, all employees will have two days off each week.”

Holland glanced at Savannah, and they both nodded as Remington guided them into the kitchen. There was a huge sink on one wall, a massive cooking stove on another, and a small sturdy table located beneath one of the windows with four chairs placed around it. Cabinets had been built into one wall, with a long worktable taking up a good part of the floor space. The blue and white tiles on the floor looked like puzzle pieces and made a fascinating pattern Holland had to force herself not to study as Remington pulled out a chair for her and then Savannah at the table.

“May I offer you tea?” Remington asked, pointing to a kettle on the stove.

“That’s kind of you, but we don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Holland said as she and Savannah took seats at the table and set the baskets they carried beneath their chairs.

“It’s no trouble at all, although I must apologize for our primitive dinnerware,” Remington said, looking somewhat distressed. “The butler’s pantry and the other storage areas are not quite ready for the dishes to be unpacked, so we are making do with what we must for the moment.”

Holland watched as the man poured hot water into a plain white teapot, set on the lid, and carried it to the table. He took three plain white cups along with saucers from a crate sitting near the sink and set them on the table, then retrieved spoons and a canning jar full of sugar.

“I’m sorry I have no fresh cream to offer you. I failed to have any delivered from the dairy this morning.”

“This is wonderful, Mr. Monroe. We don’t generally drink cream in our tea.” Savannah offered the man a smile and sat forward slightly in her chair.

After he poured the tea and Savannah and Holland each stirred a spoonful of sugar into the steaming brew in their cups, Remington cleared his throat, apparently ready to get down to business.

“Do you have any letters of referral or recommendation?” he asked.

Savannah pulled the stack of letters from her reticule and slid them across the table.

“I’ll take a quick glance at these whilst you drink your tea,” he said, then rose from the table with the letters and left the room.

“This house,” Savannah whispered. “I can’t even imagine anything like it. It’s so …”

“Grand. Elegant. Magnificent,” Holland supplied when her sister seemed unable to land on words to describe it.

Savannah grinned. “Exactly.”

Quietly, they sipped their tea. From their positions near the window, they could see into a shrub-enclosed space Holland was sure would become the kitchen garden. She could almost envision rows of beans, carrots, and potatoes growing alongside fronds of dill while fragrant stems of sage blew in a summer breeze.

Footsteps alerted them to Remington’s return. Both she and Savannah straightened their already stiff postures, set their nearly empty cups in the saucers, and placed their hands in their laps when he stepped into the room.

“These are excellent, Holland and Miss Drake. Excellent, indeed.”

“We’re pleased to hear that, sir,” Savannah said with a smile. “And I hope you’ll refer to me as Savannah.”

“Savannah,” he said, then took a seat at the table and sipped from his cup of tea that had to be lukewarm now instead of hot. “Would either of you have a problem living here to work? I realize your family has a farm nearby, but once the house is fully functioning, we’d like the house staff to reside on the premises.”

“We wouldn’t mind,” Holland said, speaking for both of them. Savannah nodded in agreement.

Remington proceeded to interview both of them, asking dozens of questions about their experience, how they would handle specific cleaning issues or situations, then he gave them both long observant glances.

“Would you like a tour of the house?” he asked, pushing back from the table and rising.

“We would, sir.”

He grinned and motioned toward the doorway. “Please, call me Monroe. It’s how all the staff will refer to me.”

“Very well, Monroe,” Savannah said, seeming quite taken with the man who was handsome and regal.

Although he seemed older than his years, Holland guessed him to be in his mid-to-late twenties, not all that much older than she.

Remington showed them the space that would become the butler’s pantry, then walked them through the food pantry, a storage room for table linens, and a cold storage room that left both Savannah and Holland marveling over an entire room used to keep food chilled. At the end of the hallway, he pointed to a door and said, “Those will be my quarters,” then directed them back to the dining room and on to the formal parlor.

In each empty space they passed, he explained what it would eventually become, such as a sunroom filled with so much light and warmth from the sun streaming through the windows, Holland wished she could have curled up on a window seat, if one had existed, and taken a nap like a lazy feline.

“You’ll recognize this room, Holland,” he said, guiding them into the library. The floor was nearly finished, but it appeared the trim Denver had been working on was now complete.

“Oh, my heavens!” Savannah said, gaping at the gleaming wood and rich blue wallpaper. “It is glorious!”

Remington chuckled softly. “Admittedly, I believe this will be my favorite room. That said, I think the winter months will find me enjoying the sunroom whenever possible.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Holland asked, smiling at the man, then walking to stand in front of the massive marble fireplace. She tipped her head back to study the carvings, amazed at the ability of the artists to turn stone and wood into such spectacular creations.

“It is wonderful,” Remington stated. “I am most anxious to see how this room appears with the draperies and furniture in place, not to mention Mr. Hudson’s collection of books and artifacts.”

“Artifacts?” Holland asked, turning to look at Remington. “Will we be expected to dust them?”

“Yes, you will, as well as the books. Not every day, mind you, but once a week the shelves and their contents are to be dusted. You will likely have a schedule of thoroughly cleaning each room on specific days of the week.”

“But what if we break something?” Holland had visions of accidentally dropping an ancient treasure that couldn’t be replaced.

“The preference would be that you didn’t, but accidents do happen. We will encourage the staff to be watchful and careful when they are handling priceless antiquities.”

“Are there many priceless antiquities?” Savannah asked, her pale skin turning even whiter.

Holland could read her sister’s thoughts since they reflected her own. What if they broke something? Would they be fired on the spot? Not only would it bring shame to their family, but it could hamper their ability to gain future employment. Perhaps interviewing here was a terrible idea. The most valuable thing in Mrs. Crampton’s home was a sword her husband had been given by a past president. It hung above the fireplace in their parlor in a place of honor.

“Some,” Remington answered cryptically as he gave them both long glances. “Just for the sake of walking through a potential circumstance, let’s pretend Mr. Hudson is in possession of a vase from Greece that is thought to be more than a thousand years old. And let’s say you are dusting a shelf, pick it up, and the vase slips from your fingers, breaking into a hundred pieces. What would you do?”

“Cry,” Savannah said with blunt honesty. “I would cry, then gather the pieces, and come find you.”

Remington looked like he worked to hold back a smile. “Other than the crying, that is a good answer, Savannah.”

“Would we then be dismissed?” Holland asked, her voice quiet in the stillness of the room.

“No, not unless you purposely broke it. My suggestion would be to use the most diligent care in handling objects throughout the house. Additionally, because there will be valuables in the house, we must be able to trust each member of the staff. It would be tragic to have the sheriff involved if one of our employees attempts to pilfer something for their own coffers.”

“We would never, sir!” Holland said, taking immediate affront at the very notion someone might accuse them of stealing.

“Never,” Savannah repeated, sounding equally offended.

Remington held his hands in front of him in a placating motion. “I certainly wouldn’t think fine ladies such as the Drake sisters would ever do such a thing, but I provide the same information to all of our staff members. Now, would you care to look upstairs?”

“Yes, please,” Holland said, feeling only slightly mollified as Remington led the way to the second floor up the curved staircase at the front of the house.

He showed them the many bedrooms, including the one that would be Mr. Hudson’s, with a balcony outside and the most breathtaking view of the river in the distance. The walls sported the same deep-blue damask wallpaper that the library boasted.

“I’m getting the distinct idea Mr. Hudson favors that rich shade of deep blue.” Holland dared to reach out and touch the velvet-flocked wallpaper with the tip of her index finger. It felt every bit as luxurious as she imagined.

“It is his favorite color. Has been for as long as I can remember.”

Savannah turned from gazing out the balcony doors to look at Remington. “How long have you known him?”

“All my life,” Remington said, staring off into the distance. “My father was in charge of his father’s stables. We grew up together, as playmates and friends. When I was eight, it was decided I would begin training to become Mr. Hudson’s butler. At fifteen, I stepped into that role in a formal capacity and have been with him since.”

Holland felt her eyes widen in surprise. If anyone on the planet knew Mr. Hudson, it was definitely Remington. “What’s he like? Mr. Hudson?”

Remington gave her a thoughtful look, then grinned. “I shall wait for you to form your own opinion of him, Holland.”

A dozen questions poised on her tongue, ready to leap out of her mouth, but she swallowed them back and followed as Remington continued their tour of the upstairs which included nine additional bedrooms, six with private baths, a large bathing room with a huge clawfoot tub, and a sitting room for guests to use for reading or relaxing near the stairs. He led them up to the third floor, which had storage rooms, bedrooms for house servants, and two bathrooms at either end of the hall the staff would share.

“Please, follow me,” Remington said, opening a door at the end of the hallway to the back stairs.

Savannah looked at Holland and fell in step behind the butler as the three of them returned to the main floor, then continued descending the stairs to the basement. Remington led them to the far end of the hallway and opened a door.

“As you can see,” he said, motioning with his hand into a long room with semicircle windows that opened to let in air, “this is the laundry room.” Half a dozen deep tubs with faucets above them lined one wall. Several pieces of unfamiliar equipment drew Holland’s interest. She pointed to what appeared to be a crude wooden cradle. “What is that?”

“A hand-agitated washing machine,” Remington said, taking hold of the handle at the top. “The interior of the cradle is ribbed. You add water and the clothes, or linens, push the handle like this, and it moves the clothes back and forth, washing them.” He stepped back and grinned. “Come with me. I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing this.”

He walked into the room across the hall and approached an odd contraption. A solid oak beam was suspended from the ceiling by three vertical brackets. A dozen cast iron rods attached to it on the long side of the beam, then fastened to the wall across the room. On either side of where the rods connected to the wall were six-inch-wide oak boards joined together by wrought iron handles on the front of them.

Remington grabbed on to a handle and pulled, moving backward as a rack slid out of the wall, gliding along the rod on a pulley system. Inside the rack, thick wooden horizontal dowels were fastened to the boards on the open end and fit into small brackets on the wall side of the device.

“For drying sheets, or toweling, or whatever needs to be dried on a rainy day,” Remington explained, motioning for Holland and Savannah to look inside. “The racks can be left sitting out like this to dry, or pushed back into the wall cabinet where coils in the floor are heated with electricity. Mr. Hudson is quite pleased with this innovation.”

“I should think so,” Savannah said, placing her hand on the handle of the rack Remington pulled out. “May I?”

“Of course.” He stepped back, and Savannah pushed in the rack, then pulled it out again, delighted as a child with a new toy. “I wish we could show this to Papa. He would build one for Mama if we had a place for it.”

“I don’t think the barn would be the logical place to dry clothes, since that is the only spot with room for something like this at the farm,” Holland observed, earning a glare from her sister.

From the laundry room, they visited the furnace room, then toured the additional bedrooms for the female servants.

“How wonderful!” Holland exclaimed, shocked by the ample size of the bedrooms. “How many girls will share a room?”

“No one will be asked to share. Each woman we hire will have her own room. Everyone needs a private place to think and relax at the end of the day.”

Savannah’s jaw dropped, and Holland had to press her lips together to keep from looking like a gawping fish.

“These rooms are meant for one occupant?” Holland asked, convinced she’d heard Remington incorrectly.

“That’s right. Each room will have a bed, washstand, dresser, mirror, and a comfortable chair. Any thoughts on the color of the rooms? We’ve painted them white for now, but Mr. Hudson isn’t averse to giving the walls a bit of color.”

Holland walked around the room, liking the clean white walls and the light that came in through the semicircle windows along the top of the wall. “I like the white walls. They brighten the room and make it seem not so much like a basement space. What will the floors look like when they are finished?”

“They’ll be oak, same as the bedrooms on the third floor,” Remington said, showing them the rest of the bedrooms as well as a sitting room and a dining area for the staff, the dumbwaiters that would be used to transport laundry and supplies to other floors of the house, and another bathroom for the use of the staff.

The basement also included storage for dishes, shelves for canned goods, and a storage room for household supplies like soap, towels, and additional linens.

“I failed to show you the attic. It will be used only for storage.” Remington guided them back to the main floor, and they returned to the kitchen where Holland and Savannah retrieved the baskets they’d left there.

“If I offered both of you ladies jobs as housemaids, when would you be able to start?”

“Next week,” Holland and Savannah said together.

Remington grinned. “I was hoping that’s what you’d say. Work might be a bit sporadic at first until the rooms begin to come together, but once they do, you’ll be working long, hard hours, likely right up to Christmas. I feel you both will do a good job here at Hudson House. I am quite certain I can put my trust in you, as can Mr. Hudson, to give your best each day. Would you like to become the first female employees on staff?”

Savannah glanced at Holland and the two of them exchanged a look of agreement without speaking a word.

Holland stepped forward and held out her hand. “We would very much like that, sir. Savannah and I accept the jobs of housemaids and are pleased with this opportunity.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have a bit of paperwork for you to complete on your next arrival. I’d like to have you come Thursday morning at eight. The library should be completely finished by then. If that changes, I’ll get word to you. As for living accommodations, until we finish the staff bedrooms and have a cook hired, do you mind remaining at your family’s farm?”

“Not at all. As long as Mr. Hudson doesn’t care if we cut through the orchard. It shortens the ride considerably.”

“He won’t care in the least. In fact, he’d be happy to know you are using the wagon road through the orchard.” Remington moved into the hallway, and Holland and Savannah followed. “Oh, I just remembered I’ll be in Portland with Mr. Hudson all this coming week. Let’s plan on both of you starting the following Tuesday. Please arrive by eight that morning.”

“We’ll be here,” Holland said, handing Remington the basket of food they’d brought from home.

“Whatever you brought smells divine. Thank you both so much. I look forward to working with you. Also, until we get uniforms, which should be soon, please wear whatever you don’t mind working in with a white apron, if you have them. If you don’t, I’ll see what I can find.”

“We have aprons, Monroe,” Savannah said with a reassuring smile. “Thank you for giving us this opportunity. We truly are so grateful.”

“My pleasure, Savannah. You both have a delightful weekend, and I’ll see you a week from Tuesday.”

“Thank you, sir. Goodbye!” Holland grabbed Savannah’s hand, and the two of them rushed outside. They waited until they’d walked around the corner of the house toward the stable to share exuberant hugs and release a few excited squeals.

“We’re going to be working in Hudson House! I can’t believe it!” Savannah said, pressing her hands to her rosy cheeks. “I’m so nervous and excited, my mind feels like it’s whirling in a dozen different directions all at once.”

“Believe it, Savannah. Oh, this is beyond wonderful. I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa, and Denver. Shall we go find our brother? I’m sure he’ll be anxiously awaiting our news as well as the food.”

Arm in arm, they walked into the stables, eager to step into their future.