At the moment, that fabric was tied to the bedposts with multicolored cords because Beatrix had wanted to avoid the temptation of lingering in a cozy cocoon of silk, her filled-to-the-brim schedule not allowing her that particular luxury at the moment.
“Good morning, dear,” Aunt Gladys said, strolling through the door, the lime green turban on her head paired with a lime green dressing gown. “I saw the cats wandering from your room, and I’m just tickled to death they’ve taken to you.”
“They haven’t taken to me, Aunt Gladys. Frankly, I’m somewhat confused as to how they got into my room because I distinctly remember shutting my door last night after we returned from the Christian Woman’s Temperance meeting. If you ask me, they’re unusually crafty creatures, and I’m almost convinced they’ve somehow learned to open doors.”
“They don’t know how to open doors. I open your door just a crack when I wake up in the morning so that the cats will know it’s time to wake you up for the day.”
“As I told Phantom, I’m perfectly capable of waking up on my own. I’ve always been an early riser, even before I took up a position, and I am now going to beg you to discontinue opening my door in the morning because I have the strangest feeling your cats are in the process of plotting my demise.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re delightfully dramatic?”
“I’m not dramatic in the least. I’ll have you know that yesterday when I woke up and discovered Phantom sitting on my chest, he licked his lips in a most telling fashion and then he went about the troubling business of stretching out a paw, probably so I would be certain to take note of his sharp little claws.”
Aunt Gladys sat down in the nearest chair, readjusting her turban when it listed to the left. “How curious. I imagine Phantom and the rest of the cats are taking your measure and then will decide if you’re worthy of their affections.”
“Who said I want their affections?”
“Shh, they might hear you, and cats understand more than we think.”
“A concerning idea,” Beatrix said right as a quiet knock sounded on her door, and Edgar stuck his head into the room.
“I’ve brought you a breakfast tray, Miss Beatrix. Everyone decent?”
“Of course we’re decent,” Aunt Gladys returned with a warm smile. “And how thoughtful of you to make certain dear Beatrix eats a good breakfast before she goes off to join the workforce.”
Edgar let out a grunt as he wheeled a tiered cart into the room that had a silver coffeepot on it, as well as a few different plates covered with silver domes. Stopping the cart beside a small table stamped with Egyptian figures, Edgar turned to Beatrix with a smile.
“Wasn’t certain what you’d care to eat today, so I had Roberta make you an assortment of dishes.” He lifted a dome from one of the plates, revealing fluffy eggs, potatoes, and toast, which he placed on the table before gesturing her forward. “Best get to it, Miss Beatrix. Starting a day with a good meal is imperative to keeping up your stamina, and yesterday you only made it through half your meal, stating you were running late and needed to get dressed.”
Beatrix’s stomach took that moment to rumble, which had Edgar sending her a pointed look, one that had her moving to the table and taking a seat. “While it is a lovely treat to be served in my room every morning,” she began, placing a well-ironed linen napkin on her lap, “I’m relatively certain it’s not an occurrence most working women enjoy.”
“You are not most working women,” Edgar countered, sending a disgruntled look to Aunt Gladys, who’d taken a seat opposite Beatrix and was already sipping the coffee Edgar had poured for her.
Edgar returned his attention to Beatrix. “Your aunt and I are currently in disagreement about your employment at Marshall Field & Company. She is still of the belief that having you work at the store will lend you an improved sense of empathy for working women. I, on the other hand, believe that after careful observation of how you’ve comported yourself since you joined us in Chicago, you already possess a great deal of empathy for women.”
“Honestly, Edgar, you make it sound as if I’m unaware of just how exceptional my niece is, when that’s not true in the least,” Aunt Gladys grumbled before she nodded to Beatrix. “With that said, I still believe your stint at Marshall Field & Company will encourage you to throw yourself firmly into the suffrage movement, much more so than you already have. You’ve already had your eyes opened regarding the obstacles working women face on a day-to-day basis, what with your suffering a demotion before you’d been employed at the store for even a week. That experience alone has left you understanding the plight of the working poor far better than if you’d merely read about it in a newspaper.”
Edgar inclined his head at Aunt Gladys. “While I agree that Miss Beatrix has gleaned some valuable experience through taking up a position, I’m not comfortable sending off an American heiress day after day to the mean environment Miss Beatrix now finds herself in.”
Aunt Gladys narrowed her eyes on Edgar, picked up a piece of toast, and nibbled on it, apparently unwilling to continue a conversation Beatrix suspected she and Edgar had had often as of late.
“You’ve not mentioned much about Norman the past few days,” Aunt Gladys said after she polished off her toast. “Has he come around to the store to see you?”
Edgar released a huff. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t delve into any matchmaking in regard to Miss Beatrix because you’ve been known to create disasters when you try your hand at that.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Edgar turned to Beatrix. “Last year, your aunt decided that Miss Georgia Lancaster, a lovely young lady with no prospects, would be the perfect
