The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow (28 page)

“You? Say you're sorry?” Archie laughed. “You don't care about another living thing but yourself. You've never been sorry in your life.”

“You've only known me a couple of months. You don't know what you're talking about.”

Archie shifted his sack to the other shoulder. “Look, I have to find a place to stay tonight. I don't have time to stand here and argue with you.” He tried to step past her, but she moved into his path again.

“I don't want to argue, either,” Sarah said. “I . . . may have said some things that led Mr. Penard to think . . .”

“This anarchist business—that came from you?” Archie said.

“It may have.”

“And now you want me to believe you're sorry.”

She shrugged. “Believe what you want. I never meant for this to happen, but if you ask me, it's a good thing.”

“Losing my position and having nowhere to live is a good thing?”

She nodded. “This is your chance, Archie. Charlotte may be perfectly happy in service, but you don't want that life any more than I do. I see it in your eyes every day.”

“That hardly makes me an anarchist.”

“You may not have chosen this, but you're getting out.”

In the shadows she could barely see his features, but his presence reminded her of the young man her father had once been. She had been a little girl in those days, and her memories were as gray and drab as the night around her now, but her father had aspired to a better life. He had not settled, and neither would she.

“I have to go,” Archie said.

Sarah stepped out of his way.

 29 

C
harlotte's feet clicked along beneath the streetlights of Prairie Avenue, then she cut alongside the Banning house to the coach house. She did not want to encounter anyone else. She only wanted Archie.

The door was latched from the inside, but she paused only briefly before rapping her fingers against the wood. The dinner hour was over, but it was not so late that Archie would have gone to bed.

“Archie!” She did not dare use full voice. “I need to talk to you!”

When she heard no answer, she knocked again. Finally she heard movement from within. Karl pulled open the door and beckoned her in.

“Where's Archie?” she asked. “I was hoping to speak to him before he turned in.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “You haven't been in the house yet, have you?”

“No, I came here first,” Charlotte said. “What's wrong?”

“Mr. Penard dismissed Archie tonight and insisted he take his things and leave immediately.”

Charlotte's stomach sank. “Why would Mr. Penard do that?”

“Archie went missing one time too many. He was gone most of the afternoon and missed the family's dinner.”

“Where did he go?” Archie had been stretching his errands, she knew. But for him to disappear for so many hours—and miss his duties—was unusual.

“Sarah says he went looking for you,” Karl said.

Charlotte's eyes widened as the breath went out of her. “He put his position at risk because of me?”

“He never actually said where he went. You know Sarah. She jumps to conclusions.”

Charlotte groped for words. “Did Archie say where he would go when he left here?”

Karl shrugged. “No. As a matter of fact, he said he had no place to go. But he knows a few of the Irish crowd. My guess is he'll end up with one of them.”

Charlotte lifted her eyes to the loft where Archie had slept for three years, unable to imagine him gone. She had rebuffed his advances over the last year. Now she needed him—wanted him—and he was gone.

“I have to find him,” Charlotte said. “Will you help me? We can take the marketing carriage out. He can't have gone far yet.”

Karl shook his head emphatically. “I may only be an under-coachman, but I need this position. Mr. Penard could find a dozen men who would rather work for the Bannings than the other families on Prairie Avenue. I can't put my position at risk to chase after Archie and have Mr. Penard discover I'm gone.”

“No one is going to call for a carriage at this hour,” Charlotte argued.

“Mr. Leo isn't home yet,” Karl said. “He went to dinner on Calumet Avenue. He may telephone.”

Charlotte sighed heavily. “Then I'll go myself.”

“You know you're supposed to be in by eleven even on your day off.”

“Maybe I will be and maybe I won't.” Charlotte lifted the latch and let herself out of the coach house. Henry was gone. Archie was gone. What did she have to lose if she missed a curfew?

Streetcars were still running, though less frequently than during the peak hours when the city bustled relentlessly. Charlotte scurried to Michigan Avenue and climbed aboard a car going north. The first place that came to mind to look for Archie was the tea and sandwich shop he had taken her to last month without realizing it was her birthday.

She got off the car and hustled toward the shop, whispering, “Be open, be open, be open.”

The door was locked.

A light beamed from the back of the shop, and Charlotte was sure she detected movement. With the palm of one hand she banged on the door while jiggling the handle with the other hand. Finally Mickey appeared in the shadows and moved toward the door. He peered out the window at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I'm closed,” Mickey said.

“I'm Archie Shepard's friend,” Charlotte said loudly. “He brought me here a few weeks ago.”

Mickey examined her face. “You're the one who left without drinking your tea.”

“Yes!” Charlotte exclaimed with relief. “You remember me!”

Mickey fumbled with a key and opened the door. “Archie was none too happy with you,” he said.

Charlotte nodded. “I know. But now he understands my reasons.”

“You'd better come inside.” Mickey glanced around the street.

Charlotte stepped inside gratefully. “I'm looking for Archie. Have you seen him?”

Mickey shook his head. “Not in days. Those Bannings must be keeping him busy.”

Charlotte could barely hold back the sob that had been welling for hours now. “Archie's in trouble,” she managed to say. “He was dismissed this evening. I thought perhaps he had come here.”

Mickey shook his head again. “I haven't heard from him. If he comes in, I'll tell him you were looking for him.”

“I have to find him tonight!”

Mickey shrugged. “I don't know where he is. Archie comes in here a lot—though he never brought a young lady before you—but I don't know what else he does with his time. He's a dreamer, that one.”

Charlotte inhaled sharply. Archie was a dreamer. “I think I know,” she said. “Thank you for talking to me.” She spun around and was out the door, ignoring the trailing voice of the Irish shop owner.

From across the street, where he leaned against a smaller structure, Archie studied the red brick building. Even in
darkness it was imposing, as if making a pronouncement of fortitude. Archie imagined it would easily stand for a hundred years or more. The edifice would be there when Archie's own future had long become history. He had no doubt that the business John Glessner had helped to forge would be just as enduring.

Maybe it was just as well Penard had sacked him.

Archie had actually been inside the building of Warder, Bushnell & Glessner. One time. On an afternoon off, he had brushed his tired-looking brown jacket and made sure his shirt was clean and starched before entering the doors of the company and inquiring about an application for employment. Carefully, he had filled it out in Mickey's shop—with no tea on the table lest it spill on the form—and returned it later the same day.

Archie was fairly certain John Glessner would recognize him by sight if not by name. The Bannings had loaned him to the Glessners on several occasions to drive an extra coach for a family affair. If his application ever appeared on the desk of John Glessner, the record of his service on Prairie Avenue was clear to see, and Archie could only hope the Prairie Avenue connection would be helpful despite his having been in service. Now he was grateful he had returned the application while still employed on Prairie Avenue and did not have to explain on the form the circumstances of his departure.

First thing in the morning, he resolved, he would march into Warder, Bushnell & Glessner and inquire about the status of his application and any change in current openings. He was not hoping to run the company. A simple clerk's position would be a triumph. His mother had insisted he learn to read and do figures, and Archie had never been more thankful. He
sighed and rubbed his eyes with both hands. He still had the night to get through, and if he loitered on this corner much longer, a local police officer was likely to urge him on his way.

On his way to where? That was the question.

“Archie!” a voice whispered behind him. He pivoted to see Charlotte, still in her gray suit, melting into shades of charcoal around her.

Immediately, he lurched toward her and wrapped her in his arms. “I was so worried for you,” he whispered. “I spent hours looking for you on the Midway before I had to admit you might not even be there.”

“But I was,” Charlotte answered. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “It made sense at the time I left the house.”

“I'm sorry about your position. I feel terrible that you've lost it because you were worried for me.”

Archie shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Don't be.” With an arm around her shoulders he turned back to gaze at the building across the street. “How did you know I would be here?”

She smiled. “It made sense at the time.”

He felt her shoulders trembling under his hand. “Charlotte, what happened on the Midway?”

Her tears came freely now as she recounted in detail her encounter with Lathan Landers. Archie held both her hands. At the end of her story, she tightened her own grip on his fingers.

“What did he mean, Archie? Why did he say he never had a wife? How can he think he's free to marry that woman?”

Archie let his breath out slowly. “Because perhaps he really is. You said once you were legally bound to him, but against your will. What if you were not legally bound to him after all?”

“We had a wedding,” Charlotte protested. “My parents were there, the minister was there. We signed papers.”

Archie cocked his head. “But you didn't want to marry him?”

She shook her head. “My parents arranged it with Lathan without ever saying anything to me. I thought we were going into Greenville to talk to the banker about the grain loan. My mother said we could go into the mercantile and look at new calicos. For some strange reason, though, she insisted I had to wear my best dress. Then instead of going to the bank, we went to the church, and Lathan was there in his black suit. It was all arranged.” She sucked in a sob.

What had those monsters done to her? Fury surged through Archie's chest.

Charlotte forced air out and continued. “Apparently my father had interfered with Lathan's stills, tapping them and selling the bootleg behind Lathan's back for quite some time.”

“And his daughter was the price of saving his own skin,” Archie said.

Charlotte nodded. “Everyone knew Lathan Landers. He had flirted with me in town, but I was never comfortable around him. He was too . . . slick. When he asked if he could take me for a carriage ride, I gave him a polite no thank you. The next thing I knew, I was married to a man I barely knew.”

“And you had no choice at all?”

“My mother stood right there with her elbow in my rib, and my father looked so terrified. I didn't know what would happen to him if I refused.”