Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (23 page)

“My father hired a Tabor private detective to look into your family. You can’t believe we’d make a blind merger.”

James’s hand froze before he knocked on the ornate door.

He didn’t want to do this—didn’t have to. He turned to leave.

Sure, he’d promised Ellen he’d ask Hattie Prisimon’s forgiveness, but now Ellen was out of the picture. It’s not like she would know.

Ellen was out of his life forever.

If he could have been sure that no one would catch him, he would have banged his head against the door. Even if she never knew it, he’d keep his word to her.

James spun around again and rapped on the door. A curly-haired servant showed him into the sitting room.

Moments later, Hattie shuffled in. Her drab brown dress swished as she walked. When James met her gaze, his heart squeezed with compassion for the unfortunate girl.

Ellen had been right.

Hattie’s swollen eyes and red-patched skin spoke of tears—ones his careless words had no doubt caused. He might not have any desire to form a romantic attachment to her, but he could be a friend. Besides, she couldn’t help her appearances and clothing. They were her mother’s fault. And with the right man, her conversation skills would improve. James knew that better than most. He usually failed at small talk with everyone but Ellen and Lewis.

He stood and bowed his head. “Miss Prisimon, I’ve come this morning to ask your forgiveness. I spoke unkindly to you the other night during McCormick’s boat ride.”

She hugged her stomach. “It’s all right. I should know … I’m not very good at all this. I don’t like going to those things, but she always makes me.”

“Your mother?” James took a step closer.

“Yes. She can’t understand that I’m not made for this life.” Hattie dropped into the nearest chair and hid her face in her hands.

James took the seat beside hers and kept his voice low. “If you don’t mind my saying, I believe you can do whatever you want with your life. Whether it be to find a man and settle here in town, or join a traveling show. Whatever you wish.”

Hattie burst out laughing. “A traveling show? That’s worse than my real dream. It makes what I want almost sound plausible.”

“And what is that?”

She shook her head so vigorously he feared for her brain.

James reached over and held her hand. He prayed she wouldn’t read more into the gesture than friendship. “Please share. I promise not to tell anyone.”

Taking a deep breath, Hattie released his hand and stood. “A few months ago I heard a talk given by the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society. The keynote speaker had such passion when she spoke of the people all over the world who don’t know about the Lord. She’s looking for volunteers to send to Madagascar.”

“And you wish to support them?”

“No. I want to go. I went to the library and read what I could about the island. Did you know they have no snow there?” As she spoke, Hattie’s eyes brightened and her hands grew animated. “I hate snow.”

James shifted in his seat. “You want to leave your life here and become a missionary?”

Hattie stopped pacing, and her shoulders sagged. “You believe I’m foolish.”

“No, on the contrary. I respect you and I think you’re courageous. If you go, think of all the adventures you’ll have. We’ll all be back here living sedate lives while you’re off in the wilds taming tigers.”

“I don’t believe there are tigers in Madagascar.”

James shrugged.

“Thank you for coming today, Mr. Kent. You’ve done a world of good.” Hattie offered her hands, and he took them. An uncharacteristic smile lit her face, and she looked
pretty
.

“My pleasure.” He reached into his pocket. “Allow me to leave my card as a pledge. If you become a missionary, I’d like to do what I could to support your endeavors.”

She walked him to the front door and, right before he left, touched his elbow. “And Mr. Kent, don’t let Miss Ingram get away. It’s plain to everyone that you two are meant for each other.”

James blinked, and his stomach knotted. Not trusting his voice to say good-bye, he tipped his hat, and left to find Hugh.

Ellen released Carter’s arm and gazed at the ceiling in awe. For all the gold trim, crystal chandeliers, and exquisite murals, the Palmer House Hotel might as well have been a palace. She first thought the exterior, with its front cylindrical tower, could not hold up to the luxuriousness it promised. But she’d been wrong.

Her shoes clipped along the marble entryway as she took in the large golden statues flanking the grand staircase and the two-story lobby. People milled on the second level, leaning on the railing. A banner proclaiming
The World’s Only Fire Proof Hotel
hung near the check-in desk.

“If I live to be a hundred and three, I don’t believe I’ll ever see anything more lavish than this.” She turned back to Carter with a sunshine smile. “Thank you for bringing me.”

He took her hand. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

They ascended the stairs and walked past red velvet chairs and Corinthian columns. Mirrors covered the walls, making the hotel feel even grander.

Carter ushered her into the main dining room which boasted the largest light fixture Ellen had ever seen. And electricity! Stuffed heads of game animals were mounted on the walls of the huge room. Despite it being dreary outside, the large windows flanking the dining area brought in enough light to give a cheery atmosphere. Her feet sank into the rich carpeting as she glided to the table. A waiter appeared immediately. Carter didn’t even look at the fancy, colored menu before he ordered them both the filet special.

“This place is amazing. It feels like a dream.” Ellen sipped her water from her crystal goblet.

He leaned forward. “They have a tropical garden with statues on the roof, and the floor of the barber’s shop is tiled with silver dollars.”

“You’re lying!”

Carter smirked. “I’ll show you on our way out. You know, after we’re married, we can eat here once a week if you’d like. We could even honeymoon here if you love it so much.”

Heat crept up the back of Ellen’s neck.

Their food arrived, and Carter continued talking, “Everyone famous has stayed here. Mark Twain, Ulysses S. Grant, Grover Cleveland, and William McKinley. Someday I’m going to build a place to rival this.”

She swallowed her mashed potatoes then dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “After your wedding, will you be able to? With the inheritance, I mean.”

He slouched back into his seat. “No, not for a long while. Palmer’s a multimillionaire. It’ll take a couple very lucky investments before I reach his league, but don’t doubt me. With a girl like you by my side, I’m going to be successful. I can feel it.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll achieve your dreams.” She offered a smile. Carter was in such a good mood, now was her chance to see if he’d support her dreams one day. “Do you plan on being a philanthropist as well?”

“In our circles that’s part of the game, whether you want to support the endeavors or not.” He shrugged. “If I want someone to back me, I’d better donate to their cause and vice versa. It’s the way these men work.”

“Don’t some of them care about the organizations they support? What about McCormick’s efforts to raise funds for the Art Institute?”

Carter looked out the window. “I don’t know. Perhaps he does care. I don’t know the man well. My guess would be his wife is passionate about the cause, so he does it to please her.”

“Would you do such a thing for your wife?”

He turned back to meet her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Do you have such a project in mind?”

Ellen straightened her silverware. “Not a specific one, but I want to be of some good in this life. I’d hope a future spouse would support that.”

When they left the dining room, Carter showed her the rest of the hotel. She nodded and
ooohed
at all the right moments, but her appreciation for the opulence began to wane. So much money was focused on one building when miles away people were skipping meals and going without shoes to make ends meet.

When they climbed back into the carriage, Ellen sighed. “It seems like too much to experience the Palmer House and the Chicago Opera House both in the same day.”

“The opera house is nice, but not so grand as the hotel. And the clientele is not all as agreeable, either.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The manager of the opera wants to make the theatre affordable for all—meaning some of the seats go to the middle and working class. But don’t be anxious about it.” He patted her hand. “I have a box reserved for us, so we won’t even be on the same level.”

Ellen shifted to put distance between them. “You don’t believe the working class should be allowed entertainment?”

The carriage slowed to almost a stop.

“They can have all the entertainment they wish for, but I shouldn’t have to share mine with them. Let the poor go to the circus acts and wild west expositions. Not our theatres.” He lurched forward to peer out the window. “Why have we halted?”

Ellen squinted. A large crowd of people on foot clogged the intersection. Some hoisted signs, but from the distance, she couldn’t read them. Men from other stopped carriages got out and started yelling at the hoard of marchers.

Remembering an article from her uncle’s newspaper about union talks near the lake, she reached for the handle. “They’re strikers!”

Carter grabbed her wrist to prevent her from moving. “Are you mad? Don’t go out there. Those men are uncivilized. Who knows what they’d do to you.”

Memories from the previous night assaulted her and a wave of nausea hit her harder than the waves that had almost drowned her earlier in Lake Michigan. While she’d been spoiled and fussed over at the Palmer House, these people had been bravely walking out on jobs they desperately needed.

She spun to face Carter. “If we marry, will you let me help them?”

“Help who?” His eyebrows dove into a deep V.

Ellen jutted her hand to indicate the throng of people moving as a solid mass toward the lakefront.

Carter paled. “Upon no account. Those people are trying to cause a revolution. Haven’t you read about the anarchist uprisings?”

Read about it? She’d been dragged into the center of it when the anarchists decided she was a spy. Ellen rubbed her cheek, hoping the bruise from where Mary Goodwell had struck her didn’t show. But the people who lived Behind the Yards weren’t all anarchists. Surely some of them simply wanted a better life for their families.

“Not all of them want that. The majority of those people want to be treated fairly. They want to work for eight hours a day, make a decent wage, and not be dragging their feet by the time they return home each night.”

He scowled. “And how would you know about their plight? Do you have some stable boy lover your heart bleeds for? You might as well come out with whatever it is. My private investigator will report the information to me anyway.”

He’d probably discover Lewis was a turncoat as well.

Ellen swallowed hard.

The hollow feeling that had torn into her heart while held captive at The Rat Palace threatened to shatter her completely. James had walked out on her, taking with him her desire for a home where she would be cherished and loved. Now Carter pried away her purpose and well-planned dream of helping the downtrodden. If she married him, he would never allow her to set up an organization to help the people who lived Behind the Yards.

Her life would never count for anything. Never matter.

No. She would try one last time before giving up all hope. “You don’t see a need to improve their lives? You don’t see that they are stuck?”

“They disgust me.” He leaned back against the seat and crossed his arms. “Their lives could be better if they worked hard. Most of them drink their money away or lose it all at the gaming tables.”

Ellen shook her head and reached for the door again.

Carter clamped down on her arms. “Listen—there are men who have risen out of that. A couple of them became millionaires after the Great Fire because they founded lumber businesses while the city rebuilt. That takes brains, and I respect them for rising above what most of them deem a broken cycle. They could get out if they simply tired. Don’t you see, they don’t want to? Not really. If they all wanted a better sort of life, then more of them would have joined the lumber industry at that time. They don’t want to work hard.”

She yanked out of his hold. “If every single one of them joined the lumber industry, then there would be no trees left in Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin.” She rubbed her wrists. “I can’t believe they are all as you described. Asking for a shorter work day seems reasonable.”

“You’re a woman. Your opinion is based on emotion, not fact.”

She reeled back. “But you said this morning that you value a woman who reads the paper and educates herself on the news.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was being pleasant.”

Ellen reached for the door handle again.

Carter moved to block her, but then raised his hands in surrender. “The choice is yours. You may run out of my carriage and go find your stable boy, but if you do so, we will leave without you, and I will never speak to you again. Or, you can remain in the carriage, change the conversation, and we can continue to make wedding plans. The choice is yours.”

Ellen bit her lip. The memory of being caught, in danger, and tied up made her blood run cold. If she stayed with Carter and forgot about helping people then she’d never have to experience an ordeal like that again. On the other hand, her whole life had been focused upon staying safe and caring only about herself—and where had that gotten her? Alone. Unloved. Unwanted.

She wanted to be someone who mattered. No, she wanted to
do things
that mattered.

“Here.” She unsnapped her necklace then placed it in his hands. “Please send this to the Danbys’ address under my name. It’s precious to my aunt, and I don’t want anything to happen to it.” Hopefully nothing would happen to
her
this time. “You’re a good man, Carter. Just not the right man for me.”