The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (17 page)

“It’s sure to be a stellar moment.”

Lucy smiled and felt herself relax for the first time in days. “I’m going on like a ninny about a piece of glass. Never mind me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Will said. “You have an eye for fine art, that’s all.”

Daniel sauntered out of the dining room. Looking past Lucy, he locked eyes with Will.

“Good evening, Mr. Jules,” Will said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You do seem to keep popping up,” Daniel said.

“Daniel, there’s no need to be rude,” Lucy admonished.

“Every time I turn around, there’s Will Edwards. For instance, at the fair dedication. You need some air, and suddenly he needs some air.” The timbre of his voice rang sharp, and his face flashed shades of fury. Lucy glanced around, smiling awkwardly at the wife of one of her father’s partners who seemed disconcerted by the rising voices.

“Daniel, are you sure you feel all right?” she asked, taking his elbow and trying to steer him toward the stairs. “Perhaps you need to sit down.”

Daniel was unmoved. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” He lowered the volume of his voice, but his words carried a distinct growl.

“Of course not,” Lucy said quickly. “I’m just concerned for you.”

“It’s a bit late for that, I’m sure you would agree. How convenient that you’ve relieved yourself of the baggage of Daniel Jules, and in steps Will Edwards.”

“Daniel, please!” Lucy spoke sharply, though quietly. “This is not the time or place.”

“Oh, so now you have become concerned about social expectations. You deceive and disappoint your parents, you toss me aside without regard for the feelings of the people who care for you, and now—”

Will stepped forward and put his arm on Daniel’s shoulder. “Mr. Jules, I must insist that you stop this tirade. This is an ungentlemanly outburst I’m confident you will regret in the morning. I will not stand by and listen to you treat Lucy this way.”

Daniel glared at Will, and Will was unyielding. Finally Daniel broke his stare and drifted toward the parlor.

Shaken, Lucy whispered, “I’ve hurt him so deeply.”

Penard stepped into the foyer and announced dinner was served.

 18 

M
iss Lucy, your book!” Charlotte pulled the art history textbook out of its hiding place in the bookcase and handed it to Lucy.

“I don’t know where my brain is.” Lucy sighed. “This class is almost finished. I can’t go batty now. Where did I leave my satchel?”

“The closet, behind the green gown.” Charlotte stepped quickly across the room and opened the closet door.

Lucy smoothed the skirt of her beige dress. The placket in the bodice had a subtle yellow check and the buttons were brown, but otherwise the dress had no ornamentation and only modest drape, nothing extravagant. Charlotte had styled her hair in the plainest manner possible under a tan hat featuring only a simple ribbon. Nothing about her appearance should attract attention, which was just the effect she hoped for.

Charlotte handed her the satchel and hung a wool cape around Lucy’s shoulders. “Paddy will be around the corner with the carriage by now.”

“I know, I’m late.” Lucy blew out her breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Outside Lucy’s suite, Charlotte turned to the narrow back stairs, and Lucy continued down the marble front stairs. Lucy resisted the impulse of habit to glance in the parlor on her way out—why invite conversation if her mother should be in the room? She stepped out the front door, closed it securely behind her, walked down the steps, and turned to the right. Paddy would be waiting for her around the next corner, parked headed toward Michigan Avenue, as he was on most Tuesday afternoons.

Finding Aunt Violet sitting inside the carriage was a pleasant surprise.

“Step right up!” Aunt Violet said.

Lucy chuckled as Paddy closed the carriage door behind her. “Where are you off to?”

“Ladies auxiliary at the church,” Violet answered. “Paddy’s going to drop me there, then take you to school. I hope that won’t make you late.”

“I’ll manage.” She would have to move swiftly when she got to campus, but it was worth a few minutes with Violet.

“Have you recovered from Daniel’s outrageous behavior at the party?” Violet asked.

Lucy smiled. “Leave it to you to get right to the point.”

“It’s only a few blocks to the church. I don’t have time to dillydally.”

Lucy sighed heavily. “I’m glad neither my parents nor his parents witnessed that scene. It would have spoiled the whole evening for them.”

“Is he still insisting on using his room at the house?”

“Yes, but less frequently. In the last two weeks, he’s only been there for dinner twice. In the mornings, if I know he’s there I have a tray brought up to my rooms so I don’t see him.”

“Wise solution. Sooner or later he’s going to have to accept how you feel.”

“I’m sorry to have hurt him.”

“Daniel is a likeable enough young man when he wants to be,” Violet observed. “He’s doing well at the bank. Many young women would welcome his attention, as I’m sure he will discover soon enough.”

“I know. Just not me.”

“No, not you. Will’s the one for you.”

“Aunt Violet!”

“Don’t be coy with me, Lucy Banning.”

“Will is Leo’s friend. I assure you, he has nothing to do with what happened with Daniel.”

“I believe that. But you still have a heart, and he deserves it, in my opinion.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and looked out the window.

Daniel leaned forward in the carriage cab and signaled the driver. Even inside the carriage, it was cold enough to see his breath. The driver—hired for the day and well paid to brace the frigid air up top—kept a discreet distance behind Violet’s carriage. Daniel’s own carriage would have been far more comfortable, and he kept a wool blanket there, but it also would have been far more recognizable. The anonymous-looking cab, with mismatched wheels and cracked roof, was indistinguishable on Michigan Avenue among the dozens that flowed north and south all day long.

Lucy had deceived him for months. Her conniving to enroll at the university had begun even before his proposal in July. He could see that now. What could she have been thinking, accepting his proposal one month and registering for a class the next? He paid her every attention, offered her every luxury, yet she was not satisfied.

The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced she had help. He wanted to know who. Now he did. The horse pulling Violet Newcomb’s carriage stopped in front of the church, and after its owner was discharged, resumed a trot. It seemed to Daniel that the driver was overly comfortable with the route toward the university.

The minutes immediately after class were the most disorienting for Lucy. She was used to meeting Daniel for tea in the late afternoons, and a month after the breakup, she still found herself wondering if he would get to the teahouse before she did. As she stepped out of the stone building into the December cold, she shivered with the habitual nearness of the man who had waited his life for her. Had she not broken their engagement, he would have been keeping vigil with a pot of tea. Kissing her cheek in welcome. Offering aid as he put her in a carriage.

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment to banish the image. She walked toward the street, then down two blocks where Paddy was waiting for her, and stepped into the carriage. Inside, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the clip-clop of the mare and the sway of the carriage.

Daniel sat in the glacial carriage for more than two hours while Lucy was inside the university building. Now he signaled the driver once more.

Lucy signaled to Paddy to stop along Michigan Avenue. He complied but greeted her with puzzlement.

“We’re still six blocks from your home, Miss Lucy,” Paddy said as he dutifully held the door open.

Lucy wrapped her cloak around her. “I feel like walking. I know Aunt Violet will be waiting for you at the church. Go on and get her. I’ll get home on my own.”

Paddy shrugged, which made Lucy smile. Clearly he had learned it was futile to dispute her choices, just as he reasoned in vain with her aunt.

Lucy stood in front of the brand-new Lexington Hotel at Michigan and Twentieth. Made of brick and terra-cotta, the building had been erected hastily in order to be ready for the onslaught of visitors to the fair in a few months. Rising ten stories from the sidewalk, it boasted luxury suites for residents who would be at home in the Prairie Avenue neighborhood two blocks away, as well as rooms whose occupants would change every few days during the fair. If she walked far enough north on Michigan, Lucy would encounter the armory building finished the previous year—a building she wished had never come to existence. Following labor unrest that led to riots and violence several years earlier, the wealthy residents of Prairie Avenue lobbied for an armory in their neighborhood. Its decorative exterior was deceptive. Though designed by a well-known architectural firm—Burnham and Root, the driving force behind the coming fair—the building served not beauty but fear. Lucy’s wealthy neighbors insured protection of their property should the working class around them once again roil. The thought of it made Lucy’s stomach churn, and she decided in that moment she would turn east to Prairie Avenue before the armory, perhaps at the Calumet Club at Eighteenth, where her father enjoyed his leisure hours.