The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (26 page)

“Lucy, have you heard?” Richard popped a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Heard what?” Lucy kept her tone light while her stomach bore her anxiety.

“Charlotte’s gone missing.”

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Where is she?”

“If anybody knew where she was, she wouldn’t be missing,” Richard pointed out.

“No, I suppose not. Bessie, I’d just like tea and toast this morning.” Lucy took her usual seat between Richard and Daniel and smiled across the table at Leo. “I was only told Charlotte was unavailable.”

“Penard reported to Father a few minutes ago,” Leo explained. “It seems Charlotte never came home from her half day off yesterday.”

“Penard has that scowl he gets when he’s unhappy but not supposed to show it because a professional butler doesn’t show his emotions,” Richard said.

Bessie poured steaming tea in Lucy’s cup. Daniel had not looked up even once from his newspaper.

“Perhaps we should wait for an explanation,” Lucy said, “before we jump to any conclusions about Charlotte. It’s possible she couldn’t get home for some good reason.”

Samuel entered the dining room. “Good morning, Lucy.”

“Good morning, Father. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, long ago. Richard, get your things. It’s time for the carriage.”

Richard stuffed one last bite of potatoes in his mouth. “I always miss the excitement. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when the maid gets home.”

“There will be no excitement,” Samuel said. “It’s a staff issue, and Penard will deal with it appropriately.”

“I’d better be going as well,” Leo said. “Department meeting first thing this morning. Someone got hold of a listing of exhibits for the Manufactures Building at the fair, and we’re going to have a preview.”

Silence settled over the dining room. Daniel munched on a piece of toast, still absorbed in his paper. Lucy debated the merits of trying to make conversation to fill the empty space between her and Daniel that resulted when her brothers left the room.

“Leo is almost as excited about the Manufactures Building as I am about the women’s exhibit,” she said. “I suppose it will be an industrial engineer’s dream to see the new machinery on display.”

Daniel folded his newspaper, laid it on the table next to his plate, and looked at Lucy, his face deadpan.

“I’m sure the papers are full of articles about the fair these days,” Lucy speculated. She took a sip of tea.

Daniel reached over and covered her hand with his. Lucy’s breath caught.

“I know, Lucy.”

She studied his face and saw it was true.

“I’m still working out some of the pieces,” Daniel said. “I don’t understand why you went there last night, but when I discovered this morning that the maid had not come home, I realized she was the one who let you in the door in that rattrap of a house.”

Lucy refused to gasp. “You must stop following me, Daniel. If you don’t, I’m going to tell my father—or yours.”

“No, you won’t.” His tone was free of fear. “I know more than you think I know, and I’m confident you don’t want the truth to come out. So you won’t say anything, and I will do as I please.”

Lucy froze to her chair as Daniel pushed his back, picked up his newspaper, and sauntered out of the room.

 29 

W
hen Charlotte finally stepped off the creaking streetcar, she knew the worst lay ahead. She might well find her dilapidated carpetbags packed and waiting for her inside the female servants’ entrance to the Banning home. There was little to gain by avoiding the encounter, however. The green trunk she opened in the small third floor room on her first day came to mind. It held the belongings of the previous kitchen maid, whose apron Charlotte inherited. As far as Charlotte knew, the girl never came back to claim her things. Perhaps she, too, dreaded going home after an unexplained absence and simply decided not to bother. Certainly she’d left behind nothing of any value. Charlotte at least wanted to retrieve her grandmother’s Bible. She walked the blocks from the streetcar route to the Bannings’, determined to hold her head high whatever awaited her. The only thing that mattered was that Henry was going to get well.

Charlotte approached the house with managed trepidation. Archie, the footman, flashed her a look when he saw her coming. He stood at the side of the road, polishing Mr. Banning’s carriage.

“Well, look who’s here!”

Archie was more jovial than Charlotte thought the situation called for.

She paused briefly to ask, “How bad is it? How much trouble am I in?”

Archie tilted his head to consider. “Mr. Penard mumbled all through the servants’ breakfast that such defiance of his role would bring consequences.”

“So he’s going to dismiss me?”

“He didn’t come right out and say that, but he could make up his mind at any moment.”

“I see Mr. Banning is home.” Charlotte nodded at the carriage.

“He called from the office to say he had a headache and wanted to come home. I just let him off at the front. I was about to go to the carriage house when I saw you coming. Are you all right, Charlotte?”

She swallowed. “As well as can be expected. I’d better face the music and get it over with.” She took a step forward, but Archie caught her arm.

“Whatever it was, Charlotte, I’m sure it was important.” He held her gaze.

He sounded sincere to her. “Thank you, Archie. It was.”

She stepped under the arch and around the partial brick wall that shielded the female entrance from public view. Once inside, she heard the usual bustle of activity drifting from the kitchen. By now luncheon would have been cleared away and Mrs. Fletcher would have turned her attention to the formal family dinner to be served in five hours. Charlotte stood under the door frame, trying to discern if she were welcome in the kitchen.

Mrs. Fletcher looked up from the breadboard where she was kneading and said simply and softly, “Mr. Penard will want to speak with you.” She tilted her head toward the butler’s pantry.

“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte began to cross the room.

The door flew open and Penard stepped out of his pantry, glaring at Charlotte.

“I am certain you are aware of your transgression, Miss Farrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are also aware of my authority to dismiss you for a flagrant violation of expectations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I was faced with an emergency,” Charlotte answered, launching into the brief speech she had rehearsed in her head on the streetcar. “Someone I care for was found seriously ill and required attention. I was the most suitable person to step in.”

Penard, his lips pressed together, blew his breath out through his nose. “You have responsibilities here.”

“Yes, sir, I realize that. I had to make a decision and trust your good graces upon my return.” She only hoped he had some good graces stored somewhere.

“By someone you ‘care for,’ I presume you mean a man.”

Charlotte was silent. She had said as much as she could safely say.

Penard scowled more tightly. “I will not have one of my maids bringing disrepute to this house by staying out all night in the company of a man.”

“No, sir. I felt it was a matter of life and death.”

Penard looked skeptical. “Is your ‘friend’ better?”

“I believe so. Another friend is now caring for him.”

“Ah, so it is a man!” Penard shouted, triumphant.

Charlotte bit her lip and said nothing.

“You will return to your duties,” he said, “and I will advise you of my decision as to whether you will continue your employment.”

“Yes, sir.” She did not let out her breath again until the butler had wheeled and left the room. Charlotte turned hopefully to Mrs. Fletcher. “What will he decide?”

The cook shrugged. “He’s been fit to be tied all morning. Perhaps now that you’re back he’ll simmer down.”

“I hope so. I never meant to endanger my position, but I had no choice.”

“If you were with a man, I would understand,” Mrs. Fletcher said unexpectedly. “After all, I wasn’t always the widowed cook.”

“What would you like me to do?” Charlotte changed the subject. “Shall I finish the bread for you?”

Mrs. Fletcher brushed her hands together, spraying loose flour across her apron. “You do that and I’ll get the dinner roast started.”

Lucy came through the front door and dropped her bag and hat on the foyer table. She had hardly heard a word anyone spoke at the weekly women’s exhibit meeting, nor had she eaten a bite of the luncheon Mrs. Palmer ordered from her husband’s hotel so the group could extend its meeting time. Plenty of restaurants closer to the exhibit building would have sufficed, but Bertha Palmer would not miss a chance to direct every detail to her advantage and dramatically arranged for a Palmer House feast to be delivered with accompanying china and crystal. At least the committee had made forward progress. Between Will’s disappearance, Charlotte’s baby being ill, Daniel’s threats, and the lack of sleep, Lucy had little energy available to object to anything Bertha Palmer suggested. She reserved her focus for the details she was responsible for.

Lucy now wandered into the late-afternoon emptiness of the parlor, hoping for a few moments of quiet before the family began to trail in to dress for dinner. Her favorite chair provided only temporary refuge, however. From her view in the parlor, Lucy saw Penard emerge from the dining room and cross the foyer before turning down the hall that led to her father’s study.
Is Father home already?
she wondered. Lucy rose and moved smoothly to the arched doorway, where she could see Penard knock on the study door. Her father’s voice bid him enter. Lucy crept down the hall, encouraged that Penard did not close the door behind him. She pressed herself against the wall beside the door, out of the sight of anyone in the study.

“The maid returned,” Penard reported.

“Oh?” Samuel answered. “Did she offer a credible explanation for her absence?”

“Hardly. I am inclined to believe that she has become involved with a man.”

“She spent the night with a man?”

Lucy cringed in the hall.
Don’t believe it, Father!

“She claims she was with a sick friend,” Penard said, “and it appears indisputable that the ‘friend’ was male.”

“But you have no actual proof,” Samuel said, ever the lawyer.

“Even without proof of involvement with a man, her disregard for her duties is ground for dismissal.”

“If you dismiss her, you’ll have to find another maid quickly,” Samuel said. “Flora won’t stand for any interruption to the flow of work.”

“I will contact the service, and I’m confident they’ll have recommendations for someone with more experience.”

“Do as you see fit,” Samuel said. “I have a headache.”

Lucy couldn’t hold still another minute. She jumped into the doorway. “No, Father, you cannot condone dismissing Charlotte.”

Her father looked startled. “Lucy, have you been eavesdropping? It’s unbecoming.”

“I’m sorry, Father. When I saw Penard come down the hall, I was afraid this was on his mind.”

“You know very well I leave managing the household staff to Penard,” Samuel said. “I can’t get involved with these details.”

“I’m not asking you to get involved,” Lucy said. “I’m only saying Charlotte has pleased me more than any ladies’ maid I’ve ever had, experienced or not, and I want to keep her on. If Penard does not want to use her in the kitchen, I’ll take her on full time.”

Samuel Banning looked from his determined daughter to his resolute butler. “Penard?”

“I will of course acquiesce to Miss Lucy’s wishes to allow the girl to keep her position,” Penard finally said, “though I will give the maid a stern warning that continuing this behavior will not be tolerated.”

Lucy let out her breath. “That seems fair. In fact, I’ll speak with her myself about the matter, if you’ll be so kind as to send her to the parlor.”

Charlotte stepped into the parlor, her eyes wide.

“Get your coat,” Lucy said, her voice low. “I’ll say I want to stroll over to one of the little shops on Michigan Avenue and require your assistance.”

When they were clear of the house, Lucy burst with questions.

“How is Henry?”

Charlotte smiled. “His temperature was normal from the time you left until I came home—almost ten hours. He slept a lot, but when he woke up, he was hungry.”

“So he’s really on the mend! I’m so relieved.”

“I would never have left him, no matter what the consequences, if I weren’t certain he was all right.”

Lucy put a hand on her maid’s arm. “It distressed me no end that you had to go through this alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. You were there.”

“I mean as a parent,” Lucy said softly. “I’ve come to be very fond of you, Charlotte, and I hope you think of me as a friend.”

“I do.”

“As a friend, I can’t help wondering about Henry’s father. Wouldn’t he want to know if his child is sick?”

Charlotte’s steps slowed almost to a stop, and she looked away. “Must we speak of that, Miss Lucy?”

Lucy chose her words carefully. “I won’t blame you if you simply say it’s none of my business, but I do care for both you and Henry.”

Charlotte sighed. “I have a husband under the law,” she finally whispered, “but he is no true husband and can never be a father.”

“You’re speaking in riddles,” Lucy said. “I don’t understand.”