The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (14 page)

 15 

P
addy asked no questions. With his assistance, Charlotte stepped into the silk-covered interior of a sleek carriage fancier than anything she had ever imagined. Lucy sat across from her, and Paddy closed the beveled glass door that shielded them from the outside world. Charlotte’s family rarely traveled, and when they did they rode in a simple farm wagon older than Charlotte. Since arriving in Chicago, Charlotte had walked everywhere. In fact, this was the first time she had left the Banning household since beginning her employment. She had followed careful instructions to find the Banning house and had little reason to try to navigate an intimidating city beyond its walls.

Charlotte had eyes only for Henry. Once inside the carriage, she cleared the fabrics away from his face and lifted him out of the basket to kiss his eyelids, his cheeks, his tiny curled fingers. Clear blue eyes returned her gaze, trusting eyes, secure eyes. That could all change in a few minutes.

Lucy pushed up the silk window shade. “Charlotte, you must watch where we’re going if you’re ever going to find your way here on your own.”

Charlotte forced her stare away from her son and out the window. Miss Lucy was right, of course. Charlotte would go see Henry at every opportunity. She couldn’t afford to lose her way and waste precious minutes.

“I’ll give you the address,” Lucy said. “It looks like it should be simple to use the streetcar down Michigan Avenue and then walk just a few blocks to the west.”

“Yes, Miss Lucy.” Charlotte choked back a sob. “I’ve never even been on a streetcar.”

“It’s not difficult. Perhaps I’ll be able to go with you the first time.”

“Would you really do that for me?”

Lucy reached forward and put her hand on Charlotte’s knee. “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you see your baby.”

For a long time, they didn’t speak. Charlotte looked out the window, trying to soak up landmarks that would reassure her when she made this trip on her own—shops and signs and railings and homes. The opulence of the Prairie Avenue neighborhood yielded to a more commonplace existence, and finally to a row of diminutive houses set snugly up against each other and close to the road. With an almost physical pain, Charlotte realized this was not a neighborhood used to seeing the likes of a Banning.

“Perhaps you should just let me out here,” Charlotte said.

“Nonsense,” Lucy answered. “I’m going to be sure Henry is properly settled.”

Finally Paddy tightened the reins, and the speckled mare obediently slowed and stopped.

“This is it,” Lucy said.

Charlotte assessed the structure that would be her son’s home. The house was narrow across the front and clad in large gray shingles. Three wooden steps led up to a small porch. On each side of the unpainted door was a square unshuttered window. Below the porch, the browned remains of a flower bed now past its season recalled a splash of beauty, a whisper of hope.

Charlotte followed Lucy out of the carriage, aware that movement in the immediate vicinity had slowed with their arrival. It was Miss Lucy they were gawking at, she was sure, or the handcrafted wood and iron carriage with a uniformed driver. Charlotte glanced at Lucy, who smiled at a couple of people and never let on that she was out of place here.

Inside, the house lived up to its outside promise. Four simple rooms were sparse but clean.

Charlotte judged Mrs. Given to be about forty.

As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Given explained, “I’m a widow. I was married for twelve years, but my husband died several years ago in an accident at work. He worked for Mr. Pullman, who is not always as careful about his employees as he should be.”

Charlotte threw Lucy a glance. George Pullman lived in the next block from the Bannings. The families went to each other’s parties. Lucy, however, gave no indication that the barb affected her one way or the other.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lucy said quietly.

Mrs. Given continued. “We never had children of our own, so it gives me pleasure to look after little ones. I have a sitting room, two bedrooms, and a kitchen. The children stay together in the second bedroom.”

“You have other children?” Charlotte had not pictured Henry with other children.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have any other babies just now,” Mrs. Given said. “I’ll be able to feed and care for your son. I do have two toddlers—twins, actually—who have been with me since they were very small. They’ll soon be ready to go to the orphanage or be adopted. The neighbor is looking after them so we can talk.”

Charlotte was still standing, clutching Henry to her chest.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Mrs. Given said, “and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Charlotte chose the overstuffed red armchair. The fabric was worn, but the seat felt solid. Lucy sat across from her on the dark green settee, next to Mrs. Given, and smiled encouragingly. In the corner of the room, Charlotte saw a small oak table with three mismatched chairs. A cross-stitched sampler of the Lord’s Prayer hung on the wall above the table, and a half-finished quilt draped over one chair. Striped curtains on the windows gave the front wall a splash of color. All in all, the room was not unlike the home she’d left behind less than two weeks ago—small but functional and clean.

“We don’t have electricity in this neighborhood,” Mrs. Given said, “but I have plenty of gas lamps.”

Charlotte nodded. She’d never had electricity, either, until arriving at the Banning house. On the farm they still used kerosene lamps.

“Charlotte, what questions would you like to ask Mrs. Given?” Lucy prompted.

Charlotte roused herself to sound like a competent mother. “You have clean water?”

Mrs. Given nodded. “Yes. It comes right into the kitchen, though I have to heat it for baths. And you won’t see a rat in my home.”

A rat! Charlotte hadn’t thought about that.

“An icebox to keep food fresh?” Charlotte asked.

Mrs. Given nodded. “The iceman comes on a regular schedule. I don’t abide spoiled food.”

“I don’t mean for Henry to be adopted out.”

“Mr. Emmett has explained your situation,” Mrs. Given said. “I know you love your little boy.”

“I’m going to come and see him.”

“Any time you like.”

“I’m off on Thursdays and every other Sunday afternoon.”

“I shall expect you, then.”

“Can I see his bed?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course.”

Mrs. Given led the few steps to a small bedroom that opened off the sitting room. “The twins have outgrown their crib,” she explained. “I’ve put them in their own little beds just recently, so you can see I have room for a baby.”

Charlotte ran her hand along the top rail of the wooden crib. So far her son had slept in a carpetbag and a dresser drawer. Here he would have a real bed! And he wouldn’t be a dark secret.

“I’ve brought his quilt,” Charlotte said, her voice catching. “It’s what he’s used to. It was my quilt when I was a baby.”

“Then I’ll be sure to take good care of it.” Mrs. Given held out her arms. “May I see the baby?”

Charlotte flashed a look at Lucy, who nodded. The moment had come. She had to give her son to another woman to care for. No longer could she steal away from her work and sneak up the stairs to breathe his sweetness, to comfort herself with the feel of him in her arms, to stroke his smooth cheek or feathery head. She would have to survive on the anticipation of his nearness on a rigorous schedule.

Exhaling slowly, Charlotte laid her son, quilt and all, in the arms of Mrs. Given. She couldn’t help but smile as the older woman cooed and Henry waved his arms and kicked against the blanket in response. With all her heart she wanted to believe Henry would be all right here.

Lucy touched her arm and spoke softly. “I hate that we can’t stay longer, Charlotte, but—”

“I know,” Charlotte said, nodding. “Mrs. Banning thinks we’ve gone to the dressmaker’s shop.”

“We’ll still have to go there. We can’t take all that fabric back into the house. Mother is sure to ask Lenae about it the next time she sees her.”

Charlotte continued to nod, but she could no longer speak. When she left the simple house and climbed back into the ornate carriage, her arms and heart were empty.

Will first recognized the horse, then the carriage, then the driver feeding the mare an apple. “Hello, Paddy,” he said.

Paddy tipped his hat. “Good day, Mr. Edwards. What brings you downtown today?”

“Just taking a stroll to enjoy the decorations. Chicago is certainly proud of the fair,” Will answered. He glanced around the street of shops. “Is Miss Newcomb shopping today? I thought she would be at her sister’s getting ready for tonight’s festivities.”

“She is,” Paddy answered. “It’s Miss Lucy who got a sudden bug to see the dressmaker.”

“Miss Lucy?” Will scanned the nearby shops for the dressmaker’s sign. “It seems like a busy day to have a dress made.”

Just then Lucy and Charlotte emerged from the shop. Lucy’s shoulders drooped, and Charlotte looked trampled. Both of them kept their eyes on the sidewalk, their hats nearly perpendicular to the ground. Will wondered what could possibly have happened in the dress shop to make them look the way they did.

“Hello, Lucy,” Will said.

Lucy’s head lifted, but her smile seemed strained. “Oh, hello, Will.”

In her soft acknowledgment, she seemed neither surprised nor pleased to run into him. Charlotte stood discreetly behind her.

“Paddy tells me you’ve been to the dressmaker’s shop,” Will said guardedly.

Lucy nodded. “Daniel brought me some imported European silks from James McCreery and Company in New York City. I’d like Lenae to do something with them for the holidays.”

“I see you’re thinking ahead as usual.”

Lucy did not return his grin, nor seem inclined to converse or banter. Will looked from Lucy’s face to Charlotte’s and back again. “I don’t mean to pry, but is everything all right?”

“Yes, of course,” Lucy said quickly. “It’s just been rather a hectic time. We’ve been anticipating the fair dedication for so long, but I admit I’ve found the hustle and bustle a bit exhausting.”

Will nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. Your family is quite invested in the affair. Will you attend the fireworks tonight?”