The Jewel Cage

by Jane Steen

  “Perhaps we could marry her off.”

  “At fifteen?”

  “Wasn’t your Mama looking for suitors for you when you weren’t much older than that?”

  “Yes, but with a view to an engagement when I was at least eighteen, and a long engagement, at that.” I sighed. “I imagine she calculated that having a good, steady boy in my sights would make me less heedless. I must have been a dreadful disappointment to her.”

  “We might offer to pay for a school for Thea,” Martin mused. “A finishing establishment for young ladies or some such place.”

  “She could do with some polish. She’s a little countrified; I didn’t believe so at first, but there’s something about her accent . . . When you consider how refined Catherine was, I’m surprised more of that refinement didn’t rub off on Thea.”

  “She might resent the suggestion of a school. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably. By fifteen, I was convinced I was quite done with education. And Thea’s been teaching school at the mission. I’m the last person to want to put Thea in a cage of any kind, Martin.”

  “Especially the marital cage.” Martin’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it.

  “If Thea wants to marry a suitable party, I’ll dance at her wedding,” I said with emphasis. “After all, it’s the usual thing.” I ignored Martin’s snort of derision. “But until that time, I just want to find out how I—we—can make her happy. I don’t think she had a great deal of happiness in Kansas.”

  “On that point, we’re in agreement.” Martin clicked his tongue. “You know, I liked Roderick Lombardi, but his insistence on following his calling as a missionary in the wilds of Kansas now seems unreasonable to me. Especially sticking it out after he lost his money in ’73 and not insisting that the denomination make up the shortfall between his income and outgoings. When a man’s duty to his calling overrides his duty of care to his family, maybe he needs to think carefully about whether he’s on the right path.”

  “He’d have called it his duty to God, and to him his vocation took precedence over everything else. Wouldn’t it be the same if he were a soldier? And up till Lucy showed signs of not thriving in Kansas, I’m sure Catherine agreed with him.”

  “I daresay she did, but they were wrong.” Martin’s voice had a note of anger. “If a child of mine were wasting away, I would move anywhere, do anything—”

  “And even if you were unable to leave, you would let me go away with her.”

  “I’m glad you realize that.”

  “So even though you insist Thea must obey Teddy, you concede that a man owes it to his womenfolk to not frustrate their wishes.” I began to relax at last.

  “I—blast it, Nell, you rely far too much on my reasonableness. Most men wouldn’t let you twist them around like this.”

  “That’s why I like you.”

  “Like?”

  “Love you.” I adjusted my position so that my shoulder was leaning against Martin’s. His arm slid over both of my shoulders, warm and reassuring and sweet after our day of disagreement.

  “But surely a girl her age should have someone in authority over her,” Martin said rather sleepily after we’d jolted along another block.

  “Now you’re being inconsistent.” All the irritation was gone from my voice.

  “Not at all. I still say that Teddy should and will make the decisions regarding Thea, whatever role we play.”

  “If you insist.” I was too tired to argue further. “But he won’t find it easy.”

  “Why is Thea going to have a prettier hairbrush than mine?” Sarah, pale and thin and still a little swollen on the left side of her face from her attack of mumps, ran a finger over the mother-of-pearl hairbrush back, which was set with small flowers of abalone.

  I sighed. The morning had been trying. Even with a bevy of hotel servants to hand, moving to a new suite was hard work of the kind I didn’t like. A fractious child whose governess was absent, recovering from her own illness, was no help. I had arranged a few days before for Alice to have the day off, and Tess was still under the weather, so I had told her to rest and done all of our packing.

  I had attempted to relieve the tension with a brief trip to the store to buy some things for Thea—but had denied myself the pleasure of looking in on the atelier, and that made me a little depressed. I wanted to return to my working life with a keen longing that surprised me. My fingers itched to embark on a new sketch, but I had no time.

  “Thea is a young lady.” I unwrapped the matching mirror and comb. “And she is our guest. It’s important that we make her feel welcome.”

  “Why does she have to be our guest?”

  “Because she’s lost her mother and her father and her sister. Teddy needs to work and can’t spend his days chaperoning her. It’s ungracious to question a guest’s arrival, Sarah.”

  “We have to show her Christian charity, Sary.” Tess uttered this pronouncement placidly enough but then spoiled the effect by muttering, “Although why the Lord tests us so is a mystery to me.”

  Sarah didn’t fail to catch that remark. She shot Tess a conspiratorial grin.

  “Why can’t Teddy stay too?” she asked. “I like Teddy much better.”

  “You’ve asked that question several times now. I hope I won’t hear it again.” I removed a dark blue parasol from its brown paper wrapping. “Teddy declined our offer of a room at the hotel, as he’d rather not be beholden to us. It’s appropriate that a man should insist on his independence. Do you think I made the right choice with this parasol, Tess? I didn’t want to buy anything too childish.”

  “Thea’s only just fifteen, Nell.” Tess surveyed my purchase. “It’s pretty though.”

  “She’s old enough to put her hair up like a lady.” I stared critically at a selection of hair combs, wondering if Thea had ever put her hair up. I had probably erred on the side of suitability for an older girl, but I knew how I’d have wanted to be treated at fifteen.

  “Thea won’t try to teach me my lessons, will she?” Sarah fiddled with the hand mirror, holding it up to see her face. “I don’t want her to.”

  “Of course not. Miss Baker will be back in a day or two. Thea’s not coming here to work.” I placed the combs inside one of the dresser drawers. “Please don’t tell me you have any ideas about Thea’s station in life being lower than ours. I told you, she’s our guest.”

  “Her station?” Sarah giggled, but there was a certain lack of mirth in her giggle. “Like a train station?”

  “You know perfectly well what I mean.” I struggled to find some patience. Sarah would surely be better behaved once she was fully recovered.

  “Yes, Sary, you’re a little too fond of telling people where they belong these days.” Tess’s tone was tart. Sarah had made one or two little remarks about Donny lately—remarks that had not pleased Tess. Sarah, of course, was incapable of tact at her age; but she was also highly intelligent, and her comments could be extremely well placed. We would have to curb her tendency to speak out to her elders. Perhaps I should have a talk with Miss Baker. If only Miss Baker were here to take Sarah into her room for a while . . .

  “All aboard!”

  Sarah waved Thea’s new mirror wildly above her head in imitation of a train guard. Tess and I, seeing the danger, exclaimed at the same time.

  “Sarah, you’re going to—”

  “Be careful—”

  And then the inevitable happened. The mirror’s handle slipped out of Sarah’s hand and the trinket flew across the room, straight at the marble fireplace. There was a sharp crack and a tinkling noise.

  “Oh.” Sarah stared at the broken mother-of-pearl surrounded by silvery shards.

  I took a deep breath. “Kindly go to your room,” I said as steadily as I could manage. “Now.”

  “I didn’t mean to do it, Mama—”

  “Now means now, Sarah Amelia Rutherford.”

  Sarah’s small lower lip pushed out as far as she could make it go—it
was a little puckered by the swollen side of her face. But even that reminder of her recent illness would not soften the maternal heart, and she knew it. She carefully smoothed her skirts and exited with as much dignity as she was able to muster—but quickly, and with one eye on me.

  “That’s seven years’ bad luck,” said Tess in a lugubrious tone of voice.

  “Doesn’t the church teach us that superstition is ungodly?” I inquired acidly as I crossed the room to press the button that would summon a femme de chambre. This was one task I couldn’t do myself since we had no dustpan and brush. “Anyway, I can get another from the store.”

  12

  Guest

  By late afternoon, Tess, Sarah, and I were waiting in the Palmer House’s rotunda under the watchful eyes of its costly classical statues. I had arranged for Mr. Nutt to collect the young people and bring them to the hotel to save them the trouble of taking the horsecar with Thea’s luggage.

  Beside me, Sarah hopped from one foot to the other with impatience, commenting loudly on the ladies and gentlemen who passed in and out of the doors. The scene was a constant parade of Chicago’s most affluent residents and visitors, the lobby all bustle and cheerfulness as the doormen greeted the guests and called for hired and private carriages outside. I had frequently replied to nods, smiles, and greetings from people we knew.

  “Moderate your voice, please.” I rested a warning hand on Sarah’s bright hair. She had just pointed out—far too loudly—that one tall, portly gentleman in a dark gray suit and red waistcoat looked like a robin. Several individuals in our vicinity swiveled their heads around to stare at the man, and a boy in short trousers bellowed “Wo-o-o-o-o-o-orms!” as his exasperated mother dragged him through the doorway.

  “Beg pardon, Mama.” Sarah giggled as she observed the lad being berated by his parent and smiled broadly at a group of adults who were also laughing at the fun.

  “Oh, there’s Teddy!” Sarah forgot the robin and also forgot to moderate her voice. “Teddy! Teddy!”

  It was indeed Teddy passing through the entrance, preceded by Thea. My heart sank. The doorman had almost not let them in, I rather thought. He had turned to stare at them, but they had, after all, arrived in a private carriage. I could see Mr. Nutt arranging for Thea’s luggage—a pitifully small case—to be brought up to our rooms.

  I cursed Martin inwardly. Why didn’t he give us more time to think? And then I cursed myself—I was a dressmaker, for heaven’s sake. I should have thought about what Thea would wear. I should have insisted I take an extra two or three days to get some dresses run up for her.

  She had done her best. She’d somehow contrived to have a day dress dyed over black—of course, she’d need to wear mourning in public. Her boots had been carefully cleaned. Her magnificent hair cascaded down from under a hat that was entirely wrong for her, but at least it was black—I supposed she had borrowed it from somebody at the boardinghouse. The hair and the beautiful face under it brought admiring looks from all the men in the lobby, but the mamas and daughters gave Thea sidelong glances and spoke to each other in low voices.

  Thea stared straight ahead and walked rapidly toward us. Behind her, Teddy, a black armband around the sleeve of his rusty sack coat and with what appeared to be his father’s broad-brimmed hat on his head, looked far more at ease than she did.

  “Are they poor, Mama?”

  Mercifully, Sarah’s whisper was not a loud one this time.

  “They look like poor people,” she continued. “Thea’s dress—”

  I raised a hasty finger to still her words. “Not—a—word—about—her—dress,” I hissed from between gritted teeth with such vehemence that Sarah’s eyes bulged in astonishment and she gave a tiny, mute nod. Tess said nothing, but there was sympathy in her expression as she gazed at the two Lombardi children.

  We had withdrawn some yards back from the entrance at the time of the robin incident, so I began moving forward. Sarah, not easily diverted from the important business of showing off, skipped ahead of me.

  “How do you do.” Sarah made a polite curtsey, pronouncing the words in her best imitation of Miss Baker’s English accent. She was wearing one of her best dresses, a pale blue plaid with a tarlatan underskirt that rustled as she moved, and the curtsey was designed to show it off to perfect advantage. She’d been practicing all morning.

  “Welcome to the Palmer House,” Sarah continued in her “society” voice. “It’s been so long since we last met.” And then, in her own natural voice, “Teddy! Look at my face. Did you ever see such a thing?” She pointed to the swollen side of her jaw and grinned, enhancing the lopsided effect.

  “What’s wrong with you?” One side of Thea’s own face lifted in an expression that was half disgust, half fear.

  “I got the mumps.” Sarah grabbed Teddy’s free hand and craned her head to smile up at him. “It’s all right, I’m not infeshuss anymore. The doctor said so.”

  “In-fec-tious.” Thea looked down at Sarah with the faintest of sneers on her pink lips. “And for your elucidation, the diphtheria that killed my parents and my little sister also produces a swelling of the face. You’re not being particularly tactful.”

  “Thea, she’s a little kid.” Teddy hunkered down to smile into Sarah’s eyes. “It’s a fine disfiguration you’re sporting there—temporary, of course. My own throat swelled right up when I got the diphtheria, and I looked far worse than you do. That’s a highfalutin dress.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah let go of Teddy’s hand to execute a twirl, holding her arms up like a ballerina. “Are you coming up to see Thea’s room? Mama bought her some nice things.”

  She darted off in the direction of the steam elevator. With no word to me, Thea followed quickly; her color was high, her expression thunderous. Tess, whom Thea had also ignored and who now looked decidedly less sympathetic, took her place behind her while Teddy and I stayed in the rear.

  “I almost thought she wouldn’t come,” Teddy said into my ear. “Fussed like crazy about her dress.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t think of that,” I said. “There’s no point in my pretending I don’t know what you mean. It’s a terrible ordeal for a girl that age to stand out in a crowd.”

  “She outgrew just about everything she had this year.” Teddy watched his sister’s ramrod-stiff back. “Mamma was despairing over finding something for her to wear.”

  I sighed. “Why didn’t your mother write me? Pride is all very well, but it would have been nothing at all for me to get some clothes run up and sent to Kansas. It’s what I do.”

  Teddy shrugged. “I reckon by the end of last year Mamma was just so sore about Pa refusing to leave that she was willing things to get worse. Like if it was bad enough, he’d see sense.” His expression was glum. “It’s real sad that Thea couldn’t have had a few nice things. She always likes to be the biggest toad in the puddle, and she had downright lost face in front of the other girls before the epidemic. The McIlvaines would have liked to help when she stayed with them, but they’re as poor as church mice.”

  Sarah waited until we had stepped into the elevator, then spoke to the car operator. “Fifth floor, please, Norman. See, our friend from Kansas is here to stay.”

  Norman, a weedy young man with a dark fuzz of incipient mustache, blushed furiously and ducked his head at Thea. She stuck her nose in the air, her own cheeks flushing anew with angry color.

  By the time we emerged into the hushed, gaslit corridor, with its deep carpeting, ornate tin ceiling, and framed prints of chaste classical subjects, the atmosphere surrounding our small group was far from cordial. Even Sarah’s chatter had fallen silent. She watched Thea with a serious look in her jade-green eyes.

  When we reached our suite, Sarah’s exuberance returned in her haste to seize the role of hostess. She ran ahead of us and flung open the main door. “Welcome to your new abode.”

  “You’ll stay and have dinner with us, won’t you, Teddy?” Like me, he had halted in the middle of
the parlor as Sarah pointed to the various doors, describing the features and attractions of the rooms for Thea’s benefit. “Martin will be home soon. We can ring for the food to be brought up here if Thea’s sensitive about appearing in the dining room. I don’t suppose she has anything to wear for dinner.”

  “We haven’t been to many dinners lately.” Teddy’s tone was dry.

  “You realize that if I’d had any idea things had gotten so bad—”

  “I know.” He smiled at me, nodding. “Please don’t blame yourself, ma’am.”

  “I’ll take her to the store tomorrow for a fitting. My ladies can run her up a mourning dress in half a day to begin with, and then we’ll outfit her with everything she needs to hold her head up in Chicago. And I won’t listen to any objections.”

  “I’m grateful to you.” Teddy’s brow furrowed. “I find it hard to be dependent on your kindness—I figure I have something of my Pa in me—but I’m willing to swallow my pride for Thea’s sake.”

  “You’re a credit to both of your parents.” I coughed against a sudden hoarseness in my throat. “I’ll do my best for her, Teddy.”

  We turned as Sarah threw open a door with a loud shout of, “Ladies and gentlemen, our main attraction!”

  “Is that Thea’s room?” Teddy asked Sarah encouragingly.

  “It sure is. Come and see. Did Mama ask you to stay for dinner? You have to.” She pouted just the tiniest bit. “You may even have wine. It’s French from France. Papa will order it for you if you want it.”

  Teddy grinned. “It’s aqua pumpaginis for me, Miss Sarah. My folks never held with intoxicating beverages.”

  “Aqua what?”

  “Pump water, sweetheart. Best thing a body can swallow.”

  “It’s bad manners to show off,” Thea informed Sarah as she walked into the room. She reached the point where she could see her reflection in the cheval glass I’d had placed near the window and stopped, staring at herself for a few moments before turning toward me without speaking. It was a magnificent dumb show, conveying a wealth of emotions with one flash of her splendid hazel eyes.