A Private Hotel for Gentle Ladies by Ellen Cooney

Author:Ellen Cooney
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780307279743
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2007-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Alcorn had her own housekeeper, Miss Blanchette. The dominant impression one had of Miss Blanchette was that she was as sturdy and hardy as a tree.

She was as solid as a trunk, and her skin had a coarse, barklike texture. Her hair was tightly pulled back. The knot of it at the back of her neck was like a tree knot. Her simple, high-collared wool dress—without a bustle, although she seemed to be the age for it—had no seam or fold that wasn’t absolutely necessary. It was so long that it not only covered her ankles but her shoes as well, so that it seemed she had no feet, but moved about in a rolling, sliding way, as if the hem of the dress propelled her. The dress was exactly the shade of her hair: dull bronze-brown, like an oak leaf.

She was a very large woman. She was so broad and so muscular, and so simply big, it would seem that she suffered from a glandular problem; or it would seem that her parents must have both been giants. Her body had no excess flesh. You had the idea that every part of her was designed for practicality, and for low, no-fuss maintenance.

Maybe she was to Mrs. Alcorn what Moaxley was to her husband, but it was hard to tell what her functions were. She didn’t appear to be doing anything at all. The meals at 340 Eustis—that was how Miss Blanchette referred to it—were sent over from the hotel kitchen; the hotel maids took care of the cleaning, the fires and coal supply, and whatever rough work needed doing. That much was evident, as two maids went scurrying past Charlotte, as soon as she’d come, to go back to the hotel through the maze, with empty coal buckets in their hands and canvas bags of dirty laundry.

Being quiet seemed to be the one thing Miss Blanchette was interested in, as in, “We live quietly here at Three-forty Eustis, Mrs. Heath, singularly quietly.” And, “Three-forty Eustis has already had lunch, but we can quietly ring for something for you.” She said the address as if it were a person, and Mrs. Alcorn’s second-floor rooms were the only ones in the building, and perhaps in all of Boston; but then of course, to Miss Blanchette, they were.

Charlotte liked her immediately, but she could understand why Arthur hadn’t mentioned her existence, and why he’d physically shrunk from any contact with her. She was definitely an intimidating lady. Arthur was quick about leaving, and never looked twice at Charlotte, and acted as though she really were a package and he’d delivered it.

There was no sign of Lucy Alcorn. “Three-forty Eustis is in the act of resting,” said Miss Blanchette by way of explanation, as if Charlotte should rest, too, while Miss Blanchette kept up a sort of vigil. That seemed to be her job, Charlotte decided: to stand vigil between the hush and heat of this apartment and all the chaos of the outside world.

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