A Proper Pursuit (21 page)

“Yes, it often does … Violet, it seems as though you become sad whenever you mention love. Tell me, did you have your heart broken?”

“No. I’ve never been in love. I was thinking of my parents. According to my aunt, my parents married for love. But something happened and now they’re divorced. I wish I knew why.”

“Come on, let’s dance.”

The music lifted both of our spirits until, once again, I saw Katya watching us. This time, I pointed her out to him.

“We’re being watched.” He followed my gaze and saw her. Their eyes met, and even from across the room I could sense the passion they shared. Then she quickly turned and hurried away. The song ended a moment later.

Nelson smiled at me and said, “Will you excuse me, Violet? I’ll be right back.”

I couldn’t resist the impulse to follow him. He caught up with Katya in the front hall, and I ducked behind a door to listen. Eavesdropping was an unforgivable offense. It would destroy my friendship with Nelson if he caught me. But I needed to know the truth.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. I risked another peek around the doorframe and saw that they were kissing. But this was no mere kiss—this was two starving people encountering food for the first time in days! I ducked behind the door again as the heat rose to my cheeks.

“Katya, wait!” I heard Nelson call a moment later. “Don’t go! I want to explain.”

“No, Nelson. You do not need to explain. She is very beautiful, and you must go back to her.”

“Violet is just a friend—”

“Please stop. This is too hard. For both of us.”

“Listen, I’m doing this for us. We—”

“But I don’t want you to. It isn’t right… . Good-bye, Nelson.”

I peeked around the corner in time to see Katya run through the swinging door and disappear into the servants’ quarters. Nelson didn’t follow her. Instead, he stood for a long moment, staring at the door that separated them. Then his head drooped, his shoulders sagged.

If this had been a scene from a novel, our literature teacher would have pointed out the symbolism of that door, how it represented the division between them: master and servant, rich and poor, gentleman and immigrant. They lived separate lives in separate spheres, with barriers between them that could never be crossed.

Then I slipped from the doorway and hurried back to the party to avoid being caught. I quickly grabbed a glass of punch and sat down in an empty chair to think.

I had been right. Katya and Nelson were in love. How else could I interpret what I had just seen and heard? But it was forbidden love, the most difficult kind. Poor Nelson.

A cynic might have insisted that he was a spoiled rich boy who probably was taking advantage of an innocent girl whom he had no intention of marrying. But I’d seen his reaction when Katya turned away from him, and I didn’t think so. Might he even go so far as to marry me—and keep Katya as his mistress on the side? I was pondering the situation when I felt Nelson’s warm hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry for running off, Violet. I needed to speak to one of the servants. Ah, I see you helped yourself to more punch. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Would you dance with me, then?”

I let him take me into his arms.We danced as smoothly as before, but now I was very conscious of his hand resting on the small of my back and of his other hand holding mine. I no longer felt comfortable in his arms, knowing the pain I was causing Katya—and perhaps Nelson as well. I needed to complete my detective work, so I decided to ask him one more question.

“If you had to choose between living in poverty with your true love, or living alone with wealth and success, which would you choose?” This time he didn’t laugh.

“I don’t think I could choose,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t know how to live without money. But I couldn’t live alone either.” Then he surprised me by asking, “Which would you choose, Violet?”

I thought for a moment and realized that I couldn’t choose either. “I would like to think that I’d choose true love,” I said. “But I’ve seen horrendous poverty, and I couldn’t bear to live that way, even with a man I loved. I think that the struggle to survive would quickly choke out our love.” I knew for the first time that it was true. Yet I couldn’t live the way Aunt Agnes did either, having money without love.

“I would be very unhappy living without love,” I added, “no matter how much money I had. My Aunt Birdie keeps telling me to make sure I marry for love, but I don’t know what to think anymore… .Don’t people ever find both—love and money?”

“As I said, that’s not the way it’s usually done in our social circle. It’s a sad indictment … but it’s true.”

“Do you think poor people marry for love?”

“Ah, I see we’ve come full circle. We’re back to the differences between rich and poor, aren’t we? I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that. I’ve never been poor—nor do I ever intend to be.”

Nelson Kent had a soft heart. He wasn’t just a handsome shell. I wasn’t in love with him, but I liked him. I considered him a good friend. I wished I could help him solve his dilemma with Katya.

By the time the evening drew to a close, he looked tired and strained. His grandmother announced that dessert and coffee were being served, but I noticed that Katya wasn’t among the servants who waited on everyone. I watched Nelson make the effort to put his mask back into place as he conversed with his guests, but I could tell that he wished the party would end. I think we were both relieved when it did.

Chapter

14

Monday, June 19, 1893

V
iolet! Come quick! You’ve received a letter!” Aunt Birdie’s voice was breathless with excitement.

It was Aunt Birdie’s job to fetch the mail every day, and it broke my heart to see how hopeful she became each time she heard letters slide through the mail slot. She never stopped believing that she would hear from Gilbert. I was tempted to hunt down some of his old letters and mail them to her, one by one, to cheer her. But today, the fact that I had received a letter seemed to cheer her as much as if it were her own.

“It’s from your beau, Silas McClure.” She said his name with the same glee that a child said “Santa Claus.”

“He’s not my beau, Aunt Birdie.”

“Well, I think he would like to be.” She handed me the envelope. I stared at Silas’ name on the return address.

“Well, open it up! See what he says!”

I broke the seal and pulled out his letter. Silas had used stationery from a hotel in Cleveland, Ohio. His chunky, schoolboy penmanship made me smile as I quickly skimmed the note.

“Well… ?” Aunt Birdie prompted.

“Mr. McClure is going to be in town this week.”

“Oh, how nice.”

“He would like to take me to the World’s Fair on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Why, that’s tomorrow!”

“Yes. I know.” He had also mentioned that he’d found a chaperone.

“Florence,” Aunt Birdie sang, “Silas McClure is taking our Violet to the fair!”

“Do I know this gentleman?” Grandmother asked, hurrying out to the front hallway where we stood. “I’m responsible for her, you know.”

“You met Mr. McClure at the train station,” I said. “Remember? The day I arrived?”

“Oh yes. The gentleman who accompanied you from Lockport.”

I didn’t confirm or deny her assumption. She could think whatever she wanted to about him. Besides, if she was going to withhold information about my mother, why should I tell her about Silas?

“Did you notice what a nice smile Mr. McClure has?” Aunt Birdie asked.

“It’s pretty hard not to notice it,” I mumbled.

“And he has the most beautiful blue eyes too. They’re the color of the sky on an autumn afternoon.”

I looked at her in surprise. “An autumn afternoon?Why autumn? Aren’t all blue skies the same?”

“Oh no, dear. Of course they aren’t. Mr. McClure’s eyes aren’t summer blue—a summer sky is bleached from the heat. And they’re not wintry blue either, when the cold air frosts the sky with silver. No, his eyes are the color of an autumn sky, warmed by the glorious leaves that have turned all those exciting colors.”

I stared at her. She was exactly right. Silas McClure was warm and exciting at the same time. And he did have wonderful eyes.

“My Gilbert has blue eyes. Oh, I do hope the weather isn’t too stormy in Virginia where he’s fighting. I would hate to think of him tramping through the mud or shivering in the rain. Maybe I’ll write him a letter to lift his spirits. See how much Mr. McClure’s letter has lifted our Violet’s spirits?”

I glanced in the mirror and caught myself smiling. And my cheeks were pink. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I raced up the stairs. At school we hadn’t been allowed to race up the stairs—or to race anywhere for that matter.
“Slowly, girls. Slowly and gracefully. You
must float when you walk.”
Lately I seemed to be ignoring a lot of the things I’d learned.

I stuffed Silas’ letter into my journal and shoved the journal beneath my mattress. Something about the unseemly Mr. McClure reminded me of the romance novels and true crime stories that Ruth and I had read, and we had kept those illicit books under the mattress too.

I didn’t know why, but I had a hard time falling asleep that night. Was I excited about finally visiting the fair or nervous about going out with a man that none of my family members knew? A proper young lady sought her father’s approval before courting someone. The young man’s background would be thoroughly investigated to make certain that he wasn’t a scoundrel. My grandmother could vouch for Louis Decker. Aunt Agnes knew Nelson Kent’s family. Maude O’Neill had given Herman Beckett her support. But the only endorsement Silas McClure had was that Aunt Birdie liked his blue eyes. Was I behaving foolishly to trust him?

In truth, the lure of adventure far outweighed any fear I might have felt. I was tired of being a proper young lady, tired of all the social constraints that held me back and tied me down. I wanted the freedom that Aunt Matt’s suffragettes had promised me, but I wanted it now. I finally fell asleep, anticipating a taste of that freedom in the morning.

My first thought upon awakening was of Silas McClure. What if he arrived in his baggy plaid salesman’s suit and had his hair slicked with oil again? And what if someone from Nelson’s social circle saw me with him at the fair? I never would be invited to another party. Aunt Agnes would disown me.

While it was true that Silas had looked presentable the last time he had called on me, I made up my mind to plead illness and stay home if his clothes and his hair were too embarrassing. My only reason for allowing him to escort me in the first place was so that he could take me to my mother’s address.

When I opened the door he was grinning from ear-to-ear, as if he’d just won a thousand dollars—or maybe stolen it.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He obviously hadn’t replenished his supply of Macassar oil yet, and his wavy brown hair looked clean and neat. So did his plain dark suit. He smelled faintly of shaving cream, and I noticed that he’d shaved so closely he had nicked himself in two spots. Was he nervous about seeing me—or too cheap to pay for a barber?

But he had come to the door alone.

“Good morning, Silas dear,” Aunt Birdie said, hugging him like a long-lost friend. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Great to see you too, Mrs. Casey.”

“Where is our chaperone?” I asked in surprise.

“They wanted to wait outside.”

“They… ?”

He gestured behind him, and I saw a woman in a long black dress standing by the curb with a short, bearded man in a straw hat. The woman was very tall and evidently very modest. In spite of the warm day, she wore a long-sleeved dress and a large black hat with a veil that covered her face. Her outfit was very much out of fashion unless she was in mourning. And if there had been a death in the family, why was she going to the fair?

“I figured if one chaperone was a good thing then two might be even better,” Silas explained.

“Would they like to come in so you can introduce them properly?” “No, they’d rather wait outside. I’ll introduce everybody on the way there.”

“Are they relatives of yours?” I asked. I turned to the hall mirror and fussed with my hatpin, stalling for time. From the moment I’d opened the door to him, my heart had begun beating like an African drum, and I was no longer sure I wanted to accompany him if he was going to have this effect on me.

“Nope. They’re just friends of mine.”

“Has she had a death in the family?” I whispered.

“I have no idea,” he whispered back. “Are you ready?”

“I-I guess so … Maybe I should take my parasol … for the sun.”

It might also come in handy as a weapon if I needed to defend myself.

“Good-bye, you two,” Aunt Birdie cheered. “Have fun!”

“I wager we will,” Silas said. He offered me his arm and we walked down the front steps to where the chaperones waited. “These are my friends Josephine and Robert. And this is Violet Hayes, the lady I’ve been talking your ear off about.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” I said, wondering if they had last names.

“Yeah.”

“Likewise.”