The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (18 page)

Daniel’s cab slowed, but traffic on busy Michigan Avenue would never permit a carriage to crawl at Lucy’s speed on foot. Daniel knew the route she was likely to take. It would simply be the reverse of a stroll they often took on Sunday afternoons when they left the Banning home and ambled along the row houses on Michigan Avenue. Confident, he gave the driver instructions to proceed at a normal speed. As he passed Second Presbyterian, Daniel saw Violet Newcomb entering her carriage. She would go to her own row house now, he knew. At the Calumet Club, Daniel gave the order to stop.

He got out.

Lucy’s pace was hardly a saunter. It was more like a bolt for home. Walking dispelled anxiety for her, but it was undeniably cold in the waning late afternoon, and darkness came early to Chicago in December. By the time she reached the church, the ladies’ carriages had dispersed, for which Lucy was grateful. She would not have wanted to stop and be polite, but neither would she have wanted to be coaxed into a carriage. Keeping her cloak from flapping in the wind off the unsettled Lake Michigan, she put her head down and persevered.

“Hello, Lucy.”

Lucy gasped as Daniel stepped out from the shadowy wall of the Calumet Club. Recovery came swiftly.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“It’s rather brisk for most people, but I know how much you enjoy an invigorating walk.”

She nodded. “You know me well.” She moved to go around him and continue.

Daniel blocked her effort and offered his arm. “May I walk you home?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you.”

He did not move his arm. “It would be my pleasure. Please?”

Stifling a sigh, Lucy took Daniel’s arm.

“I should apologize for my behavior at the party,” he said.

Daniel had never been a man of apologies. Perhaps his fury toward her was dissipating. “Thank you, Daniel. That means a great deal to me.”

He put his fingers over her hand tucked into his elbow. A harmless gesture, yet it seemed overly familiar. When she twitched in response, though, he increased the pressure, as if to say there could be no thought of removing her hand.

They moved along Eighteenth Street toward Prairie Avenue.
In two short blocks, I’ll be home
, she thought.

“I hope we can be friends, Lucy,” Daniel said.

She glanced up at him and answered tentatively, “I hope so too.”

“We’re adults, reasonable people.”

“Yes, we are.”

“There’s no reason to distress our parents any more than we have—or more precisely, more than
you
already have.”

Lucy was silent as they walked the next block. She had promised to accept full responsibility, so she couldn’t argue with his choice of words.

“Leo’s friend, for instance,” Daniel said.

“Will Edwards?”

“Yes, Mr. Edwards. I shouldn’t get too close to him if I were you.”

What is he getting at?

“I would be careful about becoming involved with Mr. Edwards,” Daniel reiterated.

“I’m not ‘involved’ with Will Edwards.”

“That’s good, because if you were, people would be hurt, and I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.”

Lucy was counting the steps to her house now—and hoping Daniel was not planning to stay for dinner. At the front door, finally, he let go of her hand.

“I’m glad we had this little talk,” he said. “I have a train to catch. Good-bye, Lucy.”

Lucy watched his disappearing form, unbending and proud. At least a full minute passed before she breathed normally again. The door opened behind her and Penard spoke.

“Are you all right, Miss Lucy?”

I don’t know. Am I?

 19 

S
uch a busy season it’s been,” Flora said as Archie, the footman, set her soup in front of her. “I can’t tell you all how happy I am to have a normal family dinner tonight and not be rushing off to a party.”

“How is it that we have everyone home tonight a mere five days before Christmas?” Leo asked as he picked up his roll.

“Thank goodness the major parties are behind us now,” Flora said. “The Kimballs had a lovely gathering, and I was honored to be invited, but the Pullmans were a bit too extravagant, in my opinion. When on earth will they stop adding on to that house? My goodness, have you seen the new conservatory?”

Richard spooned his soup. “Is it true the Fields once spent seventy-five thousand dollars on a birthday party for their son?”

“Don’t slurp, Richard,” Flora admonished. “Yes, that’s true, a Mikado ball when he turned eighteen. But it’s poor taste to discuss it.”

“Francis Glessner gave a nice dinner,” Lucy said. “I was served in the library, and it was delicious to feast my eyes on their book collection along with the dinner.”

“Would you believe Mrs. Pullman is having another party?” Flora said. “On Thursday she is having a group of ladies in for a midafternoon Christmas tea. I promised Charlotte would help serve.”

Lucy’s eyes flashed at Charlotte for a fraction of a second. She was likely the only one to notice the maid’s breath catch among the clatter and clinking of the soup course.

“What do you mean, Mother?” Lucy made sure to keep her tone even.

“There’s nothing mysterious about it,” Flora answered. “The Pullmans’ housekeeper asked for some assistance for the affair, and when Penard approached me with the question, I saw no reason not to oblige. After all, their servants were here for the anniversary party last month.”

Lucy sipped a spoonful of soup in a manner that appeared far more casual than she felt. “I believe Thursday is Charlotte’s day off,” she said.

“Oh, she’ll be paid nicely, I’m sure,” Flora said, unaffected. “It will be well worth her time, if I know Mrs. Pullman.”

Lucy set her spoon down and laid both hands on her lap. Charlotte stepped forward to remove her soup bowl.

“Charlotte,” Lucy said, “I wonder if anyone mentioned this arrangement to you.”

“No, Miss Lucy.” Charlotte’s soft response came as she stepped away from the table again.

“Mother, perhaps Mrs. Pullman doesn’t really need Charlotte after all,” Lucy said. “It’s only an afternoon tea. Surely one less maid won’t be the end of things.”

“I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about,” Flora said. “It’s the holidays. It’s a busy time. It comes as no surprise to any of the staff that they may be asked to serve in extra capacities.”

“My point is simply that I think Charlotte should have been asked,” Lucy said. “Perhaps she has plans for her day off.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate the extra pay. Won’t you, Charlotte? You could use a few extra coins, isn’t that right?”

Charlotte’s eyes were demurely aimed at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

“She’ll want you early in the morning, I’m sure.”

Lucy let her shoulders slump. What else could Charlotte say under the circumstances? She could hardly explain she was planning to see her baby son on Thursday and would have to wait a full week if she didn’t go on schedule.

“I believe I have some gifts to get tomorrow,” Lucy said. “I’m afraid I’ve rather left things to the last minute. Perhaps I’ll take Charlotte with me to help with packages. I’m sure Mrs. Fletcher can spare her for a few hours.”
Two can play that game
, she thought.

Charlotte discreetly disappeared into the butler’s pantry.

“But you know I’m going to my needlework group tomorrow,” Flora protested, “and your father and brothers have to be downtown. I’m afraid you won’t have a carriage.”

“No mind,” Lucy said lightly. “We’ll catch a cab on Michigan Avenue.”

“As long as I don’t hear any nonsense about using the streetcar,” Flora said.

“I promise.”

Two hours later, Lucy pushed the annunciator button and called for Charlotte to help her undress. When the maid arrived, Lucy was already out of her gown and in a sleeping shift.

“I’m sorry my mother did that,” Lucy said immediately. “I should have warned you about how much the neighborhood shares servants during the holidays.”

“We’re not really going shopping tomorrow, are we?” Charlotte asked.

“Well, I’ll have to come home with some packages or face an inquisition,” Lucy said. “But I’ll put you on a streetcar going south as soon as we’re out of the neighborhood and we’ll meet up to come home together.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucy.” Charlotte’s gratitude was sincere. “But Mrs. Given will not be expecting me.”

“She looks after two toddlers and an infant,” Lucy reasoned. “I’m sure she must venture out from time to time, but she can’t be gone long. I promise, you are going to see Henry tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucy,” Charlotte said again. She rearranged items on the vanity table for no particular reason. “Mr. Daniel was not waiting for you today, was he?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “No, thank goodness. He was only there that one time two weeks ago. I’ve learned my lesson about walking alone.”

“But why shouldn’t you walk alone?” Charlotte wanted to know. “If the weather is fine and you love to walk, why shouldn’t you?”

Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps in time. But I don’t want to invite a reoccurrence.”

“Mr. Penard insists that we continue to lay a place for Mr. Daniel at every meal,” Charlotte said.

“I know. I realize my brothers miss him. But I’m grateful that if he stays the night, he comes in late and leaves early at least some of the time.”

Charlotte left a few minutes later, and Lucy brushed her own hair.
This is going to change
, she promised herself.
Charlotte and I are both going to have some control over our own lives. Somehow. Soon.

Lucy was already registered for the next term. She had scoured the course offerings carefully to find a class that met on the same schedule as her current class. Any change in routine would arouse questions she didn’t want to answer.

The days bustled by, and Christmas Eve was upon Prairie Avenue. Candles, outdated for daily use by gas lamps and then electric lights, came out of the closets and sprang up in the windowsills in nostalgic arrangements. Greenery adorned mantels and railings. Towering trees rose in foyers and parlors, where they awaited ribbons and ornaments. Dinner at the Banning house, Lucy knew, would be shamelessly profligate and Flora would crave even more celebration. Samuel would ceremonially press a few coins into the hands of each member of the household staff. It would be a fraction of a fraction of what Lucy knew he could easily afford. For the members of the staff who had been working in the household for the entire year, envelopes awaited in the butler’s pantry with a bonus month’s wages. There was no question of Lucy not being present for these traditions, but she was determined to spend a few hours at St. Andrew’s. She made no particular secret of her intentions—daring her parents to object to offering a morsel of cheerfulness to orphans on Christmas Eve. She took the larger carriage, laden with packages wrapped in paper and tied in string.

Children were singing carols when she entered the gray dining hall—dozens of soprano voices fighting to be heard, each one seemingly more enthusiastic than the next. They seemed oblivious to the drear around them. Lucy made a mental note to arrange to have the dining room painted. Some of the boys could do the work if they had proper supervision. In another corner, a group of older children were stringing popcorn in winding lengths. Mr. Emmett had mentioned to Lucy that someone had kindly donated the tree, but still most of the children would finish the holiday with little or nothing more than they had when it began. The lucky ones might get a sweet treat or a note from a parent. A few very, very lucky ones would spend Christmas somewhere other than St. Andrew’s. Lucy intended to make sure every single child had a fat, juicy orange that didn’t have to be shared and that the bookshelves and modest toy cupboards were filled to overflowing.

“Miss Lucy!” Little Benny barreled toward her from across the hall, and Lucy barely freed her arms of packages in time to receive him. Benny threw his arms around her neck and squealed, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Lucy responded.

“I have a new friend.” Benny dragged Lucy by the hand.

She followed him between the wooden tables and benches, where the children ate their meals in two shifts three times a day, toward the Christmas tree.

“Here’s my new friend,” Benny said. “His name is Mr. Will.”

Lucy’s eyes lifted and widened. “Will! My goodness!” She glanced down at Benny. “Mr. Will is my friend too.”

“I meant what I said when I offered to help,” Will said. “You kindly passed my offer on to Mr. Emmett and he just as kindly sent me a note inviting me to stop by.”

“You might have told me,” Lucy said. But she was pleased to see him, and the shine in his eyes told her he was glad she had come.

“Mr. Will brought us a tree.” Benny’s round face glowed. “And he’s going to come back soon and build proper offices. He promised!”

“Then I’m sure he’ll do just that,” Lucy assured the boy, “because Mr. Will strikes me as a man of his word.” She turned to Will. “I have a carriage full of packages outside. Perhaps you’d like to help me fetch them.”

Will glanced at the progress on the tree. Benny leaned over one of the older girls with great interest in what her fingers were doing with needle and popcorn and cranberries.

“The crew seems to have this well in hand,” Will said. He offered his arm and she took it.

“So you’re going to be coming round to St. Andrew’s to build offices,” Lucy said.

“I’ve already given Mr. Emmett some rough sketches. I think we’ve settled on a plan. You’ll be pleased to know he wants to make the volunteer office considerably larger.”

“That is good news. When do you expect to begin?”

“Right after New Year’s. I’ll work in the evenings and on Saturday afternoons when my firm’s offices are closed. Mr. Emmett feels several of the older boys would do well with the experience, so I have a built-in work crew.”

“It’s a wonderful idea.” Lucy stopped short of the carriage. She didn’t want the driver to overhear, but Will was sure to find out soon enough. “Will, I’ve got a confession to make.”

He turned and looked at her square on. “You’re not really here three days a week.”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve met Benny a time or two before,” Will explained. “He’s adamant Friday is the day Miss Lucy comes.”

“He keeps track of a calendar amazingly well for a six-year-old.” Lucy’s tone sounded nervous even to her own ears.

“Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m not going to run and tattle on you.”

“Aren’t you even curious where I really do go on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Of course,” he answered, “but only because I find you interesting in many ways. It’s really none of my business, though.”

Lucy worked her lips, but the words would not form.