The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (21 page)

 22 

A
ccording to the newspapers, the Calumet Club fire was traced to shavings left by carpenters doing repair work in room twelve. Lucy absolved herself of believing Daniel capable of such a deed as quickly as she had allowed the thought into her mind.

Nevertheless, a month later, Daniel’s behavior was still unnerving. Lucy was wearying of avoiding him in her own home, and he seemed to turn up at odd, unexpected moments in the neighborhood or downtown. Most recently he had accosted her as she left the university. Lucy sat in church remembering the encounter a few days earlier.

The day had of course been glacial because it was the first week of February, and Lucy was looking forward to the quilts that awaited her in Aunt Violet’s carriage. She jostled her way through an unusual glut of students on the first floor—all hesitant to brace the cold, she supposed—and finally she was out the front doors of the building. On the frozen path, she walked as quickly as reasonably possible in her uncomfortable shoes with her lungs rebelling against the onslaught of frosty air. Paddy had promised to park as close as possible. Aunt Violet would be in the carriage because it was Thursday and she was coming for her weekly dinner at the Bannings’. Lucy was bursting to talk about her new philosophy class in the privacy of the carriage.

She rounded the corner and there he was—leaning into the carriage and talking to Aunt Violet. Paddy stood by looking none too pleased, his gloved hands clenched and ready if the situation should call for action. This small detail bolstered Lucy as she approached the carriage.

“Excuse me, Daniel,” she said, “I believe my aunt is here for me.”

“So I gathered,” Daniel said. He turned and gave her a beguiling smile, the one he used to charm the wives of his most important clients, and one that seemed so sinister to her now. “I surmised quite some time ago that your capricious aunt was in cahoots with your university escapades.”

“I am not in ‘cahoots’ with anything,” Violet protested. “I am merely supporting my niece’s ambitions, something apparently you were unwilling to do. If you had, perhaps things would stand differently between you.”

“Aunt Violet . . .” Lucy said.

“Never mind your aunt’s rudeness,” Daniel said evenly. “It’s clear where the source of your misguidance lies. Perhaps I’ll have occasion to mention to your mother that I ran into her lovely sister today. No doubt she’ll want to know where.”

“We have an agreement, Daniel,” Lucy said. “I hold you blameless in our breakup, and you keep my secret.”

“Ah, but I truly am blameless in our breakup, so our so-called agreement really doesn’t ask anything of you, now does it? Perhaps we should renegotiate the terms.”

Aunt Violet had enough. “Daniel Jules, I have been fond enough of you over the years for my sister’s sake, but you have tested the limits of my tolerance. Kindly step aside.”

With this cue, Paddy stepped forward to assist Lucy into the carriage. Lucy heard nothing more from Daniel in the next two days, and it was unlikely he would show up at church now.

The organ pipes swelled with the opening chords of the closing hymn and the congregation stood. Lucy knew her mother, beside her, would not tolerate an open examination of the balconies, but Lucy couldn’t resist a more subtle effort in the moments of preparation to sing. Clearly many of the families of Prairie Avenue and nearby streets held pews in the church as much—if not more—for social standing as devotion. This certainty frustrated her no end. But what drew the ranks that filled the balconies? Did they come out of piety? Seeking refuge? Crying for some sort of relief? Merely a warm place to sit on a cold day?

How had she not seen him earlier in the service?

He was there in a gray suit with a splash of blue silk handkerchief in the front pocket, plain as day, in the third row of the balcony, in the forward section to the left of the altar. Lucy supposed the wide brim of her hat had obscured her view to this point.

Will.

Will had come to Second Presbyterian Church for the first time.

She smiled, glad now for the wide brim that hid her face. He was there for her, she was sure. What other explanation could there be? Normally he went to a church closer to the neighborhood where his rooms were.

Lucy peeked again as she opened her mouth and sang. Will wasn’t alone—Benny stood in front of him, intent on a hymnal he did not yet know how to read. It wasn’t logically possible to bring four hundred children to church. Mr. Emmett was constantly recruiting ministers to visit St. Andrew’s and hold services for the children. It must have been a treat for Benny to come to Second Presbyterian. Lucy had seen Will with Benny enough times at St. Andrew’s to know Will would do anything for that little boy. Perhaps it was Benny who had asked to go to church and Will had merely obliged, but that thought did not diminish Lucy’s pleasure at seeing Will there. What kind of man would alter his arrangements to make a small boy happy? Will was that kind of man.

Will caught her eye from the balcony at the start of the second hymn stanza, and Lucy blushed under her hat—once again grateful for the protection it offered. The last time Leo brought Will home for dinner, Charlotte caught Lucy’s hands shaking as she pinned a brooch to her neckline and the maid discerned the truth. Charlotte smiled and said little, but Lucy could see she recognized that just the thought of Will’s presence downstairs stirred Lucy.

In the foyer after the service, Lucy lingered with her parents and Leo. Flora had insisted Richard stay in bed with his sore throat, and Oliver was regularly escorting Pamela Troutman these days. As Lucy chatted politely with friends of her parents, Benny got loose from Will and charged at her, burying his face in the drapes of her green silk skirt.

Flora raised an eyebrow and said, “Lucy, it seems you have an admirer.”

Lucy stooped and gave the boy a proper hug. Will appeared, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “he slipped right through the crowd on the stairs, but I had to wait my turn.”

“It’s no problem,” Lucy said.

“This boy is with you?” Leo asked.

“Yes, he is,” Will said, laying a hand on Benny’s shoulder.

“Mr. Will is building offices,” Benny announced. “He’s going to give Miss Lucy a proper desk and a bookcase and everything.”

Leo grinned. “You’re building offices at the orphanage? That’s great!”

Will shrugged. “I thought I might help.”

“So you and Lucy have been seeing each other there?” Leo probed.

Benny jumped right in. “He comes on Friday afternoons. Miss Lucy tells him what she likes, and he promises to do it. He comes again on Saturday, but Miss Lucy doesn’t. She only comes on Friday.”

Lucy froze.
She only comes on Friday.

“I’d better get Benny home,” Will said. “They’ll be serving lunch soon.”

Lucy flashed him a grateful look and jumped at the change of subject. “Yes, Mrs. Fletcher will be ready to serve luncheon promptly at one o’clock. We should all be on our way.”

The moment had come. By the time luncheon was over, Lucy had decided. Aunt Violet knew. Charlotte knew. Daniel knew. Will knew something, though he still had not asked for a full explanation of where she actually spent her afternoons. Benny was innocently telling the truth, but the incident after church persuaded Lucy that a casual remark could unravel everything.

She only comes on Friday.

Her parents might not have paid attention to the rambling comment of a tattered orphan, but if Daniel were to make such a remark, they would sit up straight and listen. The truth should come from her, not from Daniel’s determination to hurt her.

It was time. When the meal was over, Lucy followed her parents into the parlor and asked Leo to come as well. She waited for Penard to finish serving the coffee, then pulled the pocket doors closed.

Flora gasped at the notion, first that her daughter should be taking university classes and second that she had hid the truth from her parents. Samuel grunted that her broken engagement was evidence that her studies had proven too great a distraction. Leo didn’t say much, but he managed to stand behind his parents, out of their line of sight, where he was free to grin at his sister, especially when she revealed Aunt Violet’s part in the plot. Lucy knew her mother would be full of questions, and she was not disappointed. Why was Lucy so unhappy with the life they had worked so hard to give her? Why must she be so obstinate? Didn’t she know that Daniel would take her back in a heartbeat if she gave up these modern notions? Of course Lucy could not provide satisfactory answers, so she did not even try, and in the end Flora wore herself out and ceased her verbal objections. Lucy did not gain her father’s overt approval, but at least he did not forbid her, either. She would go to class on Tuesday afternoon as usual, but without the shroud of secrecy.

A palpable mass lifted from her. She felt it. Daniel no longer held power over her. Lucy was certain it was only a matter of hours before he would learn that she had revealed herself to her parents.

She didn’t tell them everything, of course.

There was still the matter of Will. Clearly Daniel had his suspicions, but Lucy could honestly say her relationship with Will was not what he supposed it to be. At least not yet. And if Leo knew anything of the burgeoning relationship between his friend and his sister, he gave no indication. It was for Leo’s good that he did not know. It wouldn’t be fair to draw him into the secrecy until Lucy herself knew what the relationship might hold. In the meantime, Lucy needed to reach Will as soon as possible and tell the truth about where she spent Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. She hated that he would be the last to know, but her course was already set.

And then there was Charlotte and Henry. Even Will couldn’t know that secret. No one could know.

 23 

C
harlotte counted the weeks—eighteen since she first laid her son in Mrs. Given’s arms. She’d only had him to herself for four and a half weeks, and it saddened her to think he would never remember those days. But she would. Charlotte thought of Henry every moment of every day.

She served the Saturday afternoon tea in the parlor. Only Mr. and Mrs. Banning were in the room, though she suspected Lucy would come downstairs for a few minutes of refreshment, taking a break from her philosophy readings. Mrs. Fletcher had prepared small fruitcakes to go with the tea. Charlotte dropped a sugar cube in a cup of steaming liquid and handed the cup and saucer to Mrs. Banning.

“I’ll have a fruitcake as well, please,” the lady of the house instructed. Charlotte laid a fork alongside the cake and set it on the table beside Mrs. Banning’s favorite chair.

The front door opened with a gust of frosty air, and Leo blew in. He stomped immediately into the parlor, yanked off his overcoat, and threw it onto a chair.

“This is about the most ridiculous discombobulation I’ve encountered since I left grammar school!” he said, dropping himself ungraciously into a chair.

“Whatever it is, Leo, I’m sure a cup of tea will help,” Flora Banning said. “Charlotte, please pour Leo some tea.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte reached for a fresh cup.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Charlotte.” Leo waved her away. “A cup of tea is not going to fix this.”

“Have you seen my fountain pen?” Samuel Banning asked Leo. “You know the one I mean, the silver one with blue ink.”

“I haven’t seen it, Father,” Leo said. “I have a much bigger problem than a lost pen.”

“It’s not just a lost pen,” Samuel protested. “That pen was given to me by a prestigious client whose fees provided for your college education.”

“I’m sorry, Father. My mind is on another problem. My friend Will might lose his employment.”

“I understand this young man is your friend, but have you no compassion for me? I have had my limit with things going missing. I shall have to institute another whole-house search.”

“I’ll help you look for it later. Just let me think for a few minutes what to do for Will.”

Charlotte struggled not to appear too interested.

“Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning,” Flora suggested. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?”

“Perhaps I will after all,” Leo said.

Charlotte reached again for the fresh cup and filled it, then handed it to Leo.

“Will got his first real commission a few weeks ago, and now it looks as if the arrangement is falling apart.”

“If it will make you feel better, tell us what happened,” Flora prompted.

Leo turned up a palm. “I don’t know what happened. Will sent some drawings by messenger days ago, and they never arrived at the client’s offices. They insisted Will was being negligent and used some clause in the contract to pull out and begin interviewing architects again.”

Flora Banning put her cup and saucer down on the table and picked up her pie plate. She turned to Charlotte. “Why don’t you come back in a few minutes to clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Charlotte was pleased to be excused. She scurried to the kitchen, promised Mrs. Fletcher she would be right back, and conquered the stairs in record time. She barely knocked before bursting into Lucy’s room.

Lucy was on the chaise lounge with a philosophy book in her lap. “My goodness, Charlotte, what is it?”

“Mr. Leo has come home.” Charlotte’s words fired rapidly. “Mr. Will has lost his commission, and he might lose his position at the firm.”

Lucy let the book drop to the floor as she swung her feet around and sat up straight. “What! I have to go to him. I have to find out what happened.”

“I was sure you would want to, miss. Shall I have Archie bring the carriage around?”

“It’s risky for anyone to know where I’m going,” Lucy said, “but I can’t waste time. Yes, have Archie bring the carriage around. Where’s my warm cloak with the hood? My good shoes?”

As Lucy slid her feet into her shoes and Charlotte stooped to fasten them quickly, Lucy said, “I can’t imagine what happened. Unless . . .” She hated to complete the thought.

Charlotte lifted her eyes. “Miss?”

“Unless this is Daniel’s doing.” Lucy spoke breathily. “He has suspicions about Will and me. Could he really do this?”

Within minutes Lucy was downstairs in the foyer, ready to go in search of Will. Her fingers were on the doorknob when her name rang through the foyer.

“Where are you off to?” Flora asked.

“Just a quick errand,” Lucy answered lightly. “I won’t be gone long.”

From the top of the stairs, Charlotte cringed at the scene.

“Have you seen my fountain pen?” Samuel called from the parlor.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.” Lucy gripped the knob. “Perhaps you left it on your dresser.”

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Samuel insisted. “It’s further evidence that someone has been disturbing my things for months.”

“I promise to help you look for it when I return.” Lucy pulled the door open and descended the outside steps before anyone could detain her further.

Relief whistled out of Charlotte when she saw the door close behind Lucy. She had promised Mrs. Fletcher she would be right back, and if she didn’t return to the kitchen, the cook might mention her absence to Mr. Penard. On the way down the narrow staircase, Charlotte passed Bessie on her way up with an armful of clean laundry.

After washing the pots Mrs. Fletcher left in the sink, Charlotte returned to the parlor to retrieve the tea cart. She washed up the tea things in the butler’s pantry and carefully put the dishes away on a shelf.

“Go find out what happened to Bessie,” Mrs. Fletcher instructed Charlotte. “I sent her upstairs, but she should have been back long ago.”

Charlotte nodded, lifted her skirt, and went up the stairs. The door to Lucy’s room was wide open. Charlotte stepped across the hall and looked in.

“Bessie! Mrs. Fletcher is looking for you. She—” With a gasp, Charlotte saw what Bessie held in her hands. “Those are Mr. Banning’s things. He tore the house up looking for that letter opener months ago, and I heard him asking about the pen not an hour ago.”

“I just found them,” Bessie said.

“What? In here?”

Bessie nodded. “I was putting her delicates away in the drawer, like I always do. And there they were. There’s a paperweight too, and a tin box, and a silver picture frame.”

Charlotte grasped at the drawer, pulling it wide open. Everything Bessie named was there. “Where did you get these things?”

“I told you, I found them. They were there when I opened the drawer.”

“When Miss Lucy dresses, I lay out her things myself,” Charlotte said. “I would know if these were in the drawer. You must have brought them in.”

Bessie drew back her shoulders. “I did no such thing. I found them, just like I said.” She lifted her apron and started wrapping the items in a bundle. “I’m going to march right down to Mr. Penard and show him what I’ve found. You’re a witness.”

“The only thing I can witness to is seeing you holding Mr. Banning’s things.”

“I’m going to find Mr. Penard right now!” Bessie pushed past Charlotte and started down the hall.

Charlotte was right on Bessie’s heels. “Think what you’re doing, Bessie.”

“You’re just afraid suspicion will fall on you. And perhaps it should. Everyone knows you’ve had freedom in Miss Lucy’s room for months, ever since you first got here. How do we know what happens in there?”

“Nothing happens in there! I lay out her gowns and fix her hair. I had nothing to do with those things you found, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Bessie clutched her apron more tightly as she took the last turn in the staircase. “Perhaps you’re covering for Miss Lucy herself.”

“Are you mad? Can you possibly be accusing Miss Lucy of taking her father’s things?”

“I only know I didn’t do it,” Bessie insisted, “and I’m not going to be caught red-handed for something I didn’t do.”

The two maids burst into the kitchen. Mrs. Fletcher looked up and scowled.

“What in tarnation is going on with you two?”

“Where is Mr. Penard?” Bessie demanded. “We need him immediately.” She spilled her apron and the items clattered onto the kitchen table.

Mrs. Fletcher’s eyes widened, and in one swift motion she pushed open the door to the butler’s pantry. “You’ll want to see this, Mr. Penard.”

When he saw the collection on the table, he looked sternly from Bessie to Charlotte. “I presume one of you has an explanation.”

Charlotte’s head pounded as she listened to Bessie’s explanation. Bessie had been in the Banning household far longer than she had. If there were a question of trust, Charlotte had little to stand on.

“Bessie, are you certain this is the first time you’ve seen these items?”

“Yes, sir. I know how unhappy Mr. Banning has been. I never would have kept this to myself if I had any idea.”

“And Charlotte, you deny knowledge as well?”

“Yes, sir. I am in Miss Lucy’s room regularly and I never found anything in that drawer that didn’t belong there—until I saw Bessie today.”

“I am
not
a thief!” Bessie’s voice rose.

“Neither am I!” Charlotte matched Bessie pitch for pitch.

Penard exhaled. “If I am to believe both of you, then you would have me suspect Miss Lucy.”

“Perhaps she was hiding the things somewhere else,” Bessie suggested. “Perhaps she just moved them this afternoon while she was alone.”

“Miss Lucy is innocent!” Charlotte protested. “I am sure of it.”

“And what is your explanation?” Penard asked.

Charlotte had no response.

“I will return these items to Mr. Banning immediately,” Penard said, arranging the items on a tray lined with a linen napkin. “I can make no guarantee as to his reaction, but it would be unconscionable to withhold information for a moment longer.”

Charlotte put her face in her hands as he left the room.

“There’s still dinner to serve,” Mrs. Fletcher reminded her. “You both know what you should be doing.”

Charlotte scrubbed pots and sliced vegetables and laid the table, listening with every motion for the sound of a carriage and the opening of the front door. When the door finally opened, Lucy glanced into the dining room without focusing on anything and said loudly, “Charlotte, please come and help me change for dinner.” Charlotte quickly folded the last of the napkins, then ran up the back stairs.