The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (7 page)

“Good morning, Jane.” Lucy greeted the eleven-year-old who often helped her with the clerical records in the office. Jane had come to St. Andrew’s when she was eight after the sudden death of both of her parents. By the time Lucy met her two years later, Jane had a hard edge about her. Lucy was determined to sand it down and transform that perpetual sulk into at least one smile with each visit.

Jane’s dark braids draped forward on her shoulders against the yellow cotton of her dress, a garment Lucy knew had been worn by at least two other girls before it came to Jane. Brown eyes brooded under thick eyebrows as the girl sat on a wobbly wooden chair awaiting instructions.

“Are you caught up on your lessons?” Lucy asked. “I promised Mr. Emmett I would not take you away from your schoolwork.”

Jane nodded. She rarely spoke, but she was a bright child who followed instructions accurately and worked efficiently.

“Let’s go in the office,” Lucy said. “Mr. Emmett has asked that we sort through the records in the two file cabinets against the wall and pull out the files for children who have moved on from St. Andrew’s. I’m counting on you to help me recognize the names of the older children. Can you do that for me?”

The girl nodded again and followed Lucy down the hall. The brick structure of St. Andrew’s had five stories, housed more than four hundred children, and contained its own school up through the eighth grade. After that, capable students went to a conventional high school, while others entered the working world—often in the employ of families like Lucy’s or the growing number of factories around the city. The classrooms were in the front of the building on two floors. At the rear of the first story was a series of cramped offices for the director, assistant director, and volunteers. Just as Lucy approached the office, she was accosted around the hips. Laughing, she stooped to hug the child. “Benny, I’m happy to see you too,” she told the six-year-old boy. “But shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I told Teacher I had to see you,” Benny said. “I told her I know you come on Fridays. She said I could go, but I have to come right back.”

Lucy kissed the top of his head. “Then you’d better hurry back. You don’t want to miss your arithmetic lesson. Ask permission to come find me again when school is out for the day.”

Lucy continued to the office, squeezing past a desk in the hallway and a bookcase that made the narrow doorway almost impassable.
Will probably would have an idea to make this space more efficient
, she thought.

Lucy pulled open the top file drawer. “Okay, Miss Jane, let’s get to work.”

 8 

T
hen it’s settled,” Lucy said to her family at luncheon on Saturday. “Everyone plans to be engaged for the afternoon and evening.”

“Are you sure you and Daniel don’t want to join us at the Glessners’?” her mother asked.

“I’m afraid Daniel and I have other plans.”
Just not together
, she did not add aloud.

Mentally she was leaping at the chance to be alone in the house with access to her father’s library. The truth was Daniel would be busy all day and into the evening, wooing a new investor for the bank.

“Father, if no one is going to be home, why not give the staff the evening off?” Lucy suggested.

“I’ll need Elsie when I get home,” Flora protested.

“And Archie will have to see to the horses,” Oliver added.

“Yes, but forgoing dinner preparation and serving would relieve the staff of considerable work for a few hours. Why not let them enjoy a half day on their own?” Lucy put her own dinner at risk with this suggestion, since no one would prepare her evening fare, but the midday meal had been filling enough to carry her until the next morning.

“I suppose there’s no harm in it,” Samuel said. With a glance he authorized Penard to dismiss the staff for a few hours.

Lucy thought they’d never leave! Now she sat in the brown leather armchair in her father’s study, holding a book of replications of neoclassical paintings of a century ago with their hallmark order and clarity. The book had been on Samuel’s shelf for years. This was Lucy’s chance to study it without evoking questions about a sudden interest in art. She wondered if she dared take it upstairs to her room. Would her father even miss it? Considering that only two days ago he was flustered about a mislaid paperweight—which still hadn’t turned up—Lucy decided it was wise to confine her exploration of the book to the study.

Lucy stared at an image meant to illustrate the tremendous strides Russian painters had made in technique and style during the Enlightenment, but she couldn’t get Daniel out of her mind. Despite their quarrel at breakfast the day before, Daniel had arrived in an ornate carriage promptly at five-thirty in the afternoon and they took a leisurely ride to the lakefront. Lucy had suggested the outing because the lake was one of Daniel’s favorite places to relax, and apparently the mere anticipation of it had soothed his nerves. He loved the shoreline at Lake Forest, but when it was not possible to go to the lake house, he feasted on the view of the lake in Chicago. By the time he had appeared at the Banning house, it was as if the morning never happened. Rather than badger her about setting a wedding date, he recounted humorous episodes at the bank—and Daniel could tell a good story. Lucy was glad to hear him laugh, and she laughed with him. Rather than disparage her work at the orphanage, he imagined how he would approach painting the October sky hanging over Lake Michigan with its multifaceted gray hues.

Daniel had a discerning eye for color and brushstrokes, though he had not lifted a paintbrush since before he went off to college. One of his last projects was to illustrate a children’s chapter book as a gift to Lucy. He’d taken apart the binding, added a one-of-a-kind illustration for each chapter, and had the book rebound. She still had the book in the bottom drawer of a dresser in her suite. By the time it dawned on Lucy—still a girl at the time of the gift—that Daniel had given up art, he insisted he was not returning to a hobby of his youth. He was a banker, not a painter, he told Lucy, and he had to stay focused to succeed. Nevertheless, she enjoyed imagining with him on the rare occasion he let his artist self peek out.

He was Daniel at his finest on Friday evening. Lucy was reminded of all the reasons Daniel could be as appealing as he was to so many people, and how easy it would be to slip into life at his side, on his arm, as his wife.

But she wouldn’t, of course.

Lucy turned a page in the art book and tried to refocus with a fresh image.

She and her brothers were planning a surprise anniversary party for her parents in a few weeks. Daniel and his parents already were wound up with pleasure just thinking about the event. After the party, Christmas would soon be upon them, and the two families always spent the holiday together. And of course the New Year’s festivities would be grand. Daniel would have a list of balls they could choose from, and most likely they would drop in on several of them, saving their favorite for the stroke of midnight.

Could she really stay engaged to Daniel until after New Year’s for the sake of a peaceful holiday season?

In the silence, Lucy easily heard the horse clip-clop to a stop on the brick outside the house. She lurched from the chair and craned her neck at the window to see Leo and Will stepping out of a carriage.
What are they doing here?
She couldn’t be found in her father’s study. Lucy slammed the art book shut, shoved it into its spot on the shelf, pushed her textbook under a cushion, and scampered down the hall to the parlor, where she picked up the far less conspicuous
Dictionary of Needlework.
She saw out the parlor window that the two men were headed for the front entrance.

Leo threw open the front door and glanced in the direction of the parlor. They all did that, Lucy knew. The family’s first impulse when arriving home was to look and see if anyone else was home—even when no one was supposed to be there. Lucy found herself staring at both Leo and Will.

“Lucy!” Leo pulled off his calfskin gloves. “I thought you were out with Daniel.”

“Not at the moment,” Lucy responded.

“I can see that. Since you have time on your hands, you can entertain Will for a few minutes.”

Will put his hands up. “Please, don’t let me disturb you.”

“It’s no disturbance.” Leo spoke for Lucy, a characteristic that had irritated her for as long as she could remember. In this instance, however, he was right.

“It’s no trouble,” Lucy agreed.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. I just need to change. Will has never been boating on Lake Michigan, and I intend to rectify that.” With that assurance, Leo took the marble steps two at a time, leaving Lucy and Will to stare at each other.

Lucy stood up rather belatedly. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Please do come in and sit down.”

“Are you quite sure I’m not disturbing you?”

“Not in the least.”

“What are you reading?” Will sat stiffly in a side chair.

Lucy laid the needlework book down on the side table, front cover down. “Nothing, really. Just something I picked up to pass the time.”

Will glanced around the room. “Your mother has done a remarkable job in here.”

Lucy chuckled. “Yes, she would like to think so, but as you can probably imagine, she had the help of an expensive decorator. Just like everyone else on Prairie Avenue.”

“It’s such a curious neighborhood,” Will remarked.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Oh, I mean no offense, of course,” Will said quickly. “It’s just that I find the architecture fascinating. So many well-known architectural firms have taken commissions here—Burnham and Root, Treat and Foltz, Cobb and Frost. And one look at the Glessner home tells me that Henry Hobson Richardson was not afraid to distinguish himself, as he always did. He was based in Boston, but his influence is far-reaching, even after his death six years ago.”

“It seems you’re quite the student of Prairie Avenue,” Lucy observed.

“No one with aspirations in architecture can ignore Prairie Avenue. One can easily imagine this neighborhood will be an attraction to visitors who come to Chicago for the World’s Columbian Exposition next year.”

Lucy leaned slightly toward Will. “Between you and me, it does seem a bit much sometimes. Every now and then I calculate how many orphans could be housed in one home on Prairie Avenue—probably without inconvenience to the families who live here.”

“The orphanage is lucky to have you,” Will said. “I mean that.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Lucy said. “I have no home of my own, no money of my own. I have very little control over anything, when you get right down to it. I’m holding out to call time my own and spend it as I choose—with the children who have so little.”

“Perhaps when you’re married you’ll have other resources at your disposal as well.”

I doubt it
, Lucy thought. Aloud she said, “I’m so sorry not to offer you refreshment. I would ring for a tray, but we’ve given the staff the day off.”

“No bother. Leo promised this would be a quick stop.”

“He seems to be welcoming you to Chicago with gusto!”

“Leo does everything with gusto, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes. As a little girl, I always wanted to be where Leo was, because it was sure to be more exciting than my needlework or lessons.”

“Then you know well why I enjoy your brother and allow him to whisk me around.”

Lucy laughed, and just then Leo appeared in the doorway. A straw boater hat topped off the striped blazer and flannel trousers that Leo, like all the young men of Prairie Avenue, wore on boating excursions. He cocked his hat on his head, showing off the silk hatband.

“While we’re all here,” Leo said, “let’s sort out this art exhibit business. How about Tuesday evening?”

“It turns out I must be at the disposal of my employers that evening,” Will said. “Some last-minute business before the fair dedication. How about Monday?”

“I have a department dinner at the university that night,” Leo said. “It’s sure to be full of boring speeches, but I’m told it’s mandatory. Wednesday will be busy with fair preparations, and Thursday is sure to be crowded with the fair dedication on Friday.” He paused thoughtfully. “Lucy, I know it was your idea to go, so why don’t the two of you go on Monday without me?”

Lucy and Will spoke at the same time.

“Oh, I’m not sure—”

“I don’t think—”

Leo interrupted them both. “I know. Lucy is an engaged woman, and even if she weren’t, propriety demands you have an escort.”

“Leo, it’s not . . .” Lucy felt herself blushing against her will.

“I have the same mother you have,” Leo said. “So here’s what we’ll do. I will escort you from the house on some pretext, and we’ll meet up with Will at the gallery. Then I’ll duck out to my boring dinner and meet up with you a few hours later and bring you home. In the meantime you and Will can gawk and gaze to your heart’s content.”

“Leo, might that be overly duplicitous?” Lucy’s pulse beat faster at the thought.

“You could ask Mother to go with you,” Leo teased.

“Don’t you dare,” Lucy snapped.

“Or Daniel.” Leo’s green eyes lit.

“Daniel has a wonderful eye for art,” Lucy said, surprising even herself.

“He just doesn’t find it practical,” Leo said. “He won’t go without protest. You’ll never get out of the house on your own in the evening. If you genuinely want to look at these paintings, you’re better off with Will.”

“That’s all true. However, a chaperone would be safer than your shenanigans,” Lucy said. “Perhaps Aunt Violet?”

“Yes, possibly, if you feel you must have a chaperone. But Will is quite keen to go, you know.”