by Jane Steen
“Very well. For Martin’s sake, I will do anything you say.” I looked hard at the little Frenchwoman. “What’s your remedy? I can tell there’s one brewing in your mind.”
“Paris!” Madame clasped her hands together into a tight knot and pointed that knot toward me.
“Paris?” I sat up straight, suddenly not at all tired. “You mean we should travel to Europe? When?”
“June, I think,” Madame said judicially. “Too early and the Exposition will have an unfinished air. I do not believe it will be ready according to schedule. These things rarely are.”
“The Exposition? Oh, you mean I—we—should go to Paris for the Universal Exhibition? I read about it in the newspaper.”
“Hélas, Mr. Rutherford does not believe we can spare the two of you for more than three months. Otherwise, I would send you to Rome and Florence in October. Rome especially is not healthy in the summer months. Paris is dreadful in August, but Mr. Rutherford agrees that the coast of Normandy is most salubrious. I will arrange for you to meet some people of fashion and intelligence. France is not as it was under the Empire, of course, but there is much worth seeing.”
“You’ve already spoken with Martin about the voyage?” Surprise made my voice waver.
Madame sniffed. “As I have said, he is concerned.” She waved a hand. “For your health and spirits, of course, not your work.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I see potential for greatness—ah, do not look so surprised—and it is my task to nurture it. You need a, how do you say it, furlough. A long one. A furlough with a purpose. You must fill your head with beauty and novelty, and your work will improve.”
“I daresay it will.” A grin spread over my face at the thought of that beauty and novelty. Paris! Even if it would clearly be our duty to attend a great exhibition.
“You may continue to send us drawings as you wish, if you are inspired to do so.” Madame smiled graciously. “But it is not absolutely necessary. Your watchword must be diligent idleness.”
“I think I can accomplish that.” I could sense the excitement building in my chest, a warm buzzing.
“And, of course, Worth will instruct you on how to make the most of those idle hours.”
My heart jumped, and I felt a vein pulsing in my neck. Worth! Madame Belvoix had talked before of sending me to her old friend, the most exalted of Parisian dressmakers. We sometimes purchased his designs to make up in the store, and I had studied them carefully. Worth’s gowns graced the forms of many a wealthy Chicago lady of my acquaintance, and acquiring a Worth dress was a sign of real wealth and elegance.
“But that is for the summer. For now, you need more rest.” Madame tipped her head to one side, looking at me.
“I intend to visit Mrs. Fletcher a great deal once her baby is born. She expects her confinement soon. Will that do? They say a change is as good as a rest.” I grinned at Madame, my head still full of Paris and Worth.
“A baby is a commonplace object, of little artistic interest.” Madame waved a dismissive hand. “But at least you will not be able to work with one in the room.”
24
Travel plans
“She’s a funny-looking little thing.” Elizabeth Fletcher gazed into the eyes of her newborn daughter. “But the monthly nurse says she’s a fine, healthy baby. David’s delighted. He doesn’t mind a bit that our firstborn is a girl.”
“Aren’t you delighted?” I reached out to take little Mabel from Elizabeth’s arms, settling her so I could scrutinize her tiny face. “And she’s not at all funny looking. That’s what newborn babies look like. I declare she looks somewhat like you.”
“I think she looks like my great-uncle Josiah.” Elizabeth sighed. “Perhaps I’m lacking in maternal instinct. Or I’m simply bad-tempered from turning into a frump.”
“You’re quite beautiful for a woman who gave birth last night. Your figure will return. You’re merely tired and a little overwhelmed, I imagine. That’s natural.”
“That’s more or less what Mother said. She told Nurse not to overindulge me—and then she dashed out to buy me what she referred to as ‘nourishing but dainty’ food to tempt my appetite.”
“After sending a note instructing me to call this morning and buck you up.” I grinned at the baby who had half opened one eye.
“Mother sat up all night with me,” Elizabeth continued. “And supervised my breakfast and then disappeared for half an hour and then returned fresh as a daisy to tell me you were coming and she was going out. David gave her the biggest hug before he went to the bank—her face turned quite pink.”
“Your mother’s a force of nature. And it’s my opinion that you take after her, even if you don’t want to hear it.”
“Heaven forbid.” Elizabeth yawned. The baby in my arms squirmed, agitating her tiny legs as her face flushed and paled in response to some internal process. I watched, fascinated and charmed, but prey to a thousand conflicting emotions.
“What a strange expression,” Elizabeth remarked, and I looked up to see her bright blue eyes studying me. “Are you experiencing a rush of maternal yearning?”
It took me a few moments to formulate a reply. “I feel guilty, I think,” I said at last.
“For not presenting Martin with a son and heir in the first year of marriage?” Elizabeth’s fair eyebrows arched.
“For being so . . . well . . . ambivalent about the prospect of becoming a mother again.” I smiled, but the smile died quickly. “At least with you, I can admit it. Of course, I realize children are part and parcel of marriage—”
“And you love Sarah very much,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I do. I never return home without a sense of excitement that the two of us will be together soon. Part of me longs for the day when I can announce the imminent arrival of a brother or sister for her and see her face light up with joy—and Martin’s, especially Martin’s. And yet I dread it as well.”
“I believe I can guess why.” Elizabeth held out her arms to receive the baby, who had started to squawk, from me. “I’m getting an inkling of the sheer disruption inherent in motherhood. This little one seems to need me every moment, even with a hired nurse around.” She kissed her daughter’s reddening face. “Don’t pay any attention to your cross mother, will you? It’s just . . . well, it’s hard to be so much in demand.” The fond smile she gave her baby was reassuring though, and I laughed.
“You haven’t even started. She’s a little person, you understand, with her own wants and needs. I know what I’m letting myself in for . . . and I’m torn enough between all the roles I play. Dressmaker, partner at Rutherford’s, Martin’s wife, Sarah’s mother, Tess’s friend . . . And there’s Thea, of course. Have you ever seen those Chinamen who spin plates on sticks and constantly rush from one to the other to stop them from falling? I’m worried that a new baby will bring something else crashing to the ground. It seems much more difficult, somehow, than when I merely had myself to consider.”
“And you’re worried most of all that what will crash will be one of the two roles you mentioned first,” Elizabeth said drily. “Dressmaker and partner at Rutherford’s. The roles that are your heart and soul.”
I was aware of my face growing red. “Madame says I’m a creative artist and must learn to live for my art.”
“If she says so, it’s undoubtedly true.” Elizabeth made shushing noises at her crimson-faced baby. “Oh dear—Nell, would you please ring the bell for the nurse?”
“Perhaps I should go.” I crossed the room to press the button.
“She’ll probably make you.” Elizabeth grimaced. “You see, I can’t even have a conversation.”
“Nor will you be able to for a while. Sometimes I suspect I live too much for my work, Elizabeth. I couldn’t even summon up the energy to furnish our house—Martin made most of the decisions.” I hesitated, then plowed on. “Sometimes I see the house as yet another burden I have to carry.”
“Yes, it’s dreadful being outrageously rich, isn’t it?�
� Elizabeth dimpled at me, straightening up against her pillows as the door opened. “Oh, Nurse, there you are. Do you think she’s all right? After all, I’ve spent hours with her attached to me.”
“She’s just hungry, waiting for your milk to come in.” The nurse, a large, efficient-faced woman, looked down her long nose at me. “You’ll have to leave soon, Madam. But I’ll take Baby for a few minutes and try to settle her.”
She scooped the squalling infant into her arms, silencing her by inserting her little finger into the round red mouth. “Baby and I will return soon, Mrs. Fletcher. We must see to your needs as well.”
Elizabeth made a face at the closing door. “Heavens, what a termagant. Or do I mean ptarmigan? She tells me when to use the water closet.”
“I’m fairly sure a ptarmigan is a bird. But she’s right: you need rest and food. I’m sure your mother will be back soon.”
“I suppose so.” Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably against the cushions. “But listen, about our conversation the last time we talked, while I was still my own woman.” She rolled her eyes. “David’s quite adamant we can’t come with you to Europe.”
“I suppose that was too much to hope for.”
“He says we can’t afford it ourselves, and although he knows Martin would pay for the whole thing, that’s not how he intends to live his life. I will have to be content with spending the summer months in Lake Forest. David didn’t even want me to impose on Mother and Father’s hospitality for that long—he says Father was quite generous enough over our house and my dress allowance—but Mother simply insists that Chicago isn’t safe for Mabel in the hot weather.”
“She’s probably right.”
“Yes, drat her, she usually is. Of course, what she really wants is to dote.”
“And why shouldn’t she?”
“You’re far too often on Mother’s side.” Elizabeth pouted a little, but then her dimples returned. “Oh, but Paris, Nell! I will give you a long list of shops to visit.”
“I’m beginning to wonder how much time I’ll have for buying things. Martin plans on us visiting the exhibition several times—although I will draw the line at looking at machines. Or perhaps I’ll go see the flying machine—how can you make a machine fly? Madame insists I see what seems like all the works of art in Paris. She’s already given me a list of certain things I must see and read before I keep my appointment with Mr. Worth. I must not approach him in ignorance, she says. It’s like being a schoolgirl again—and I never did like school that much.”
“On the subject of school, is Miss Baker going with you?”
“Yes, although she won’t be with us all the time. We’ll be in London for the last two weeks, so she will leave us to visit her family in the north and meet us in Liverpool for the return sailing.”
“London.” Elizabeth grinned. “I haven’t been there for years. And I’ve never been to the Normandy coast. You’ll have to stay with me for a week to tell me all about it.”
“I’m rather hoping that absence will make me homesick for Calumet Avenue and that I won’t want to go anywhere else.” I detected a wistful note in my voice. “That it feels like my home once I come back.”
“Is Tess going with you?”
“Ye-e-e-e-e-s.” I let my voice reflect my doubts. “But only because Sarah begged her. She has her own reasons for being reluctant, as you know; or at least one reason.”
“Your nice Mr. Clark.” Elizabeth’s smile lit up her bright blue eyes.
“The very same. Teddy’s coming too. Not Alice; she gets seasick, so I must hire a maid in London and France if I need one.”
“And Miss Lombardi?”
“Mercifully Thea declined our offer.”
Elizabeth made a face. “I’m happy for you. Although she’s a fool to pass up the chance to visit Europe. Why on earth did you even invite them?”
“Because I was convinced I had to.” I set my mouth in a firm line; my invitation to Thea had been a bone of contention between Martin and me. “Teddy was most enthusiastic, but not for Paris. He has his own reasons for wanting to go to Europe and very decided views about the voyage. He begged Martin to buy him a second-class ticket rather than the first-class one we offered, and he’s refused any other help. He’s been corresponding with some people in England who’ve set up what they call ‘home missions’ for the poor, and he’s received an invitation to spend the summer working and traveling with them. He wasn’t going to go—he couldn’t afford it, of course, and would never have approached Martin to ask for money—but he’s interpreted our invitation as a sign from God.”
“A strange sign when you refuse to keep company with the people who are inviting you.” Elizabeth’s eyes were wide. “Do you mean to say you agreed to let him go second class?”
I shrugged. “Why not? If it’s what he wants.” I smiled, remembering the joy on Teddy’s face. “He was so delighted at the idea of spending the summer doing pastoral work—you know, Elizabeth, I hadn’t realized how much he must miss working alongside his father. He’s always quiet about his parents. Stoical is the word, I suppose.”
“It all sounds rather dull. The poor are everywhere, and I imagine they’re much the same in England as in America. When you go to Europe, you go for the culture—the beauty of the cities—and the clothes.” Elizabeth twitched down the coverlet and passed a hand over her middle, looking glum.
“Your midriff won’t be like that for long.” I stood as my ears registered the approaching sound of a screaming newborn. “Now, you must get back to motherhood and I to my store. I’ll come again tomorrow, and in a few days we’ll start discussing some new dresses. That will cheer you up.”
“Nell!” Tess’s face brightened as she turned toward her sitting-room door in response to my knock. “How is Elizabeth? What does the baby look like?”
“Elizabeth’s well, and I’m sure Mrs. Parnell will let you and Sarah visit soon. The baby—well, she’s a baby. Two arms, two legs, facial features all in the right place, and the correct number of digits.”
Tess’s small teeth showed as she burst into a laugh. “You’re funny, Nell. Is she pretty? What’s her name?”
“Mabel, and of course she’s as beautiful as any newborn can be. It’ll be a few days before she stops looking so red and creased. But I’m quite sure her eyes are going to be exactly like Elizabeth’s.”
Tess clapped her hands. “Mabel! That’s so pretty. I will buy her a pink bonnet, and when she’s bigger, I’ll play peek-a-boo with her just like I did with Sary. Are you going to eat luncheon with us?”
I looked at my timepiece. “I suppose I could. What are you doing?”
Tess turned back to the beautiful little desk Martin had found for her, indicating a small book.
“I’m looking at the book Martin writes in to show how rich I am.”
I had never seen the book, so I peered over Tess’s shoulder to look at Martin’s neat handwriting. “Has he been doing this for long?”
“Since last summer. He said it would be a good idea if I understood my money. Only I don’t understand, not really, but on Sunday afternoons when you’re out for a walk with Sary and Martin’s looking at the household books with me, he gets out his notebook and copies things into my book. I asked him if I’m rich, and he said that ‘rich’ means different things to different people, but in the eyes of most ordinary people I’m a wealthy woman.”
Based on the figure at the bottom of the page, Tess could be described as wealthy by many people’s standards. From the modest amount she’d earned at the seminary, Martin had gradually built a nest egg for her. It helped that we never spent her income; we gave her pin money each week, and as we’d opened accounts at all the shops she liked, we simply paid the bills as they were sent in. Tess didn’t understand money at all, but she could add figures and enjoyed looking at them. I loved Martin all the more for understanding my friend so well.
“Just think, all this came originally from your hard work.” I bent dow
n to lay my cheek against Tess’s, the wire of her spectacles pressing against the scar near my ear. “You should be proud. Were you planning to spend some of it?”
“I’m going to buy Donny a ticket for the Germanic,” said Tess firmly. “I want him to come with us.”
Mama had once told me that “improving each shining hour” sometimes meant waiting for the right opportunity to do the right thing at the right time. It was time to talk to Tess. I crossed the room to fetch one of her dainty chairs so I could sit next to her.
“Why is it important to you that Donny come with us?” I asked. I knew the answer, of course, but I needed to hear it from Tess.
“Because he’s my friend.” Tess’s eyes, magnified a little by her spectacles, were resolute.
“So you intend him to travel as a friend, and not as a—”
“If you’re going to say servant, I’ll be cross.” Tess assumed the fiercest expression she could manage.
“I’ve never called him a servant. But you have to admit he’s hardly used to traveling in first class. How do you imagine Donny will feel, sitting at dinner with the likes of the Vanderbilts and the Morgans? I’m nervous enough about that as it is, and I know you are too. And we’re used to society by now.”
“Donny sat with the likes of the Parnells at Thanksgiving,” Tess said defensively, then blushed. “He looked so nice.”
“But—have you even talked to Donny about this idea of yours? Or are you just going to spring the surprise on him? He didn’t much like being told he had to have his Thanksgiving dinner upstairs.”
Tess looked confused. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that yet.”
“That’s what worries me, sweetheart.” I smoothed a fine wisp of hair that waved around her ear. “I would be happy to keep company with Donny, but this has to be his decision as well as yours. And it’s a big decision, isn’t it? Martin’s the only one among us who won’t find the crossing hard, socially speaking—well, except Sarah. She’s lucky she’s too young to sit at dinner.”