by Jane Steen
Traveling is a tiring business. By nine o’clock, even Miss Baker was ready to say good night and retire to her own chamber. Sarah and Tess had long gone to bed; the open window, fitted with screens against the night insects, brought in the sounds of passing carriages as Martin and I settled down in the parlor.
“Well?” Martin asked after we had spent a few minutes indulging in the mundane chatter that married persons often use as a prelude to a healthy argument. “We didn’t come to a conclusion about Thea.”
“I thought you had,” I said rather testily. “You’re the senior partner at Rutherford’s, so I don’t suppose I can prevent you from firing her.”
“But you’d rather I didn’t.”
“The idea makes my blood run cold,” I admitted. “Thea working at the store was the perfect solution. Gainfully employed and out of everyone’s hair but still under our supervision. If you give her the sack, might that not push her into Victor Canavan’s arms? I’ve told you what I heard him say to her when we found her at the Jewel Box. The implication was clear that she’d asked him if he had a place in his theater for her. He was too sensible to make her any kind of offer—and I imagine he’d be even more reluctant to do so now he’s a client of mine—but if you write to Joe and he fires her before we get back, I’m willing to bet Canavan’s the first person she turns to. He seems to have a sympathetic nature; could he resist Thea if she’s destitute? By the time we reach Chicago, she’ll probably be a fully fledged actress.”
Martin sighed heavily. “I see your point. She chose her moment carefully, didn’t she? Perhaps I should wire Teddy and tell him to make his way to Liverpool at his earliest convenience. The steward on the Germanic told me they’re planning November and December sailings this year. We might get him home for Christmas even if he misses the October embarkation.”
“So do we wait to fire her till then? Months after the event? Or if we fire her as soon as we get back, what do you propose we do with her in the interval? Lock her in our house till Teddy gets back?”
Martin made a stifled sound of frustration, raising both fists to the ceiling like a man in manacles pleading for freedom. “How can one sixteen-year-old girl possibly be so much trouble?”
Our eyes met, and it was I who gave way first. Within moments, we were both wiping away tears of laughter.
“Heaven has revenged itself on me thoroughly,” I said when I stopped gasping with mirth. “But what I did was far worse.” I sobered, not seeing the luxurious hotel room, but the sun’s hot rays through the gaps in a curtain of willow leaves. “I was so entirely heedless. I never even imagined the trouble I might cause for myself—for everyone. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do, and I considered that at sixteen I was quite old enough to make my own decisions. Now it shocks me I could have been so reckless.”
“It’s a reckless age.” Martin dug his fingers into his hair, seeming to tear at it, and then spoke suddenly.
“When I was sixteen, I decided I was old enough to drink whiskey. I didn’t like it one bit, but I was angry at the world. I thought this was a man’s way of dealing with my anger, so I drank most of the bottle. The doctor said I could have died. Father whipped me raw the moment I was well enough to stand and informed me it was only Mother who stopped him from teaching me what a real beating felt like.” His mouth twisted. “He waited two more years for the latter lesson.”
I stared at him in astonishment. “You never told me that.”
“No, well, I’ve always been ashamed of that day. Taught me to dislike liquor at least.”
“You know, I was convinced you were the sensible one.”
Martin smiled, his expression so tender that it lit a spark of joy in me. “It’s the advantage of being so much older. I had more or less reached the age of reason before you were old enough to take notice of what I got up to. And I wasn’t at all sensible when I passed up the opportunity to insist you marry me just because your particular brand of recklessness had visible consequences.”
The warmth in Martin’s eyes stoked a flame that prompted me to close the space between us and settle comfortably on his knees. The ensuing demonstrations of marital affection almost made me forget what we’d been arguing about, but Martin’s threat to give Thea the sack had rattled me badly, and I knew I had to press my advantage.
“About Thea,” I began after an interval.
Martin groaned. “And I hoped this evening was going to end so pleasantly.”
“It will.” I reinforced the promise with a kiss. “I just want you to swear to me we’ll assess the situation first—together. That whatever we do, we’ll do it as . . . well, as partners. Neither of us will go around dashing off letters to Joe about firing Thea until we’ve talked to her. And no writing to Teddy either. He’ll be miserable if he has to come back to Chicago instead of spending the winter ministering to the poor of Ireland or whatever it is he’s doing. To be honest, I’m worried he’ll end up dragging the child back to Kansas and marrying her off to some rancher.”
“Mmmm.” Martin was clearly beginning to lose interest in the Lombardi children, but he did his best to rally. “We can hardly hide the fact from Teddy that his sister’s doing precisely what he, and his parents, would regard as immoral.”
“Teddy would regard more than half of Chicago society as immoral.”
“And he’d be right. Darn it, Nell, stop using your womanly wiles to get your own way. You’re far too good at it.”
“I just want us to give Thea a fair hearing before we act. We could still write to Teddy—in time for him to be on the November sailing if necessary.”
“All right. Now we are going to stop talking about anybody else but us until tomorrow morning.”
30
Charity
I had purchased no end of fripperies and furbelows for Thea while we were in Paris. She had declined our earlier offer of a dress allowance, explaining that she feared it would cause trouble with the other girls, but I was convinced no miss of sixteen could resist the allure of a Parisian hat. So I’d bought two funnel-shaped creations in the very latest style, with the matching jabots that were currently all the rage. I’d had them packed in the prettiest of boxes. It would not be easy tackling Thea about the theater, but surely a hat or two would calm the storm.
I could hear Martin’s voice in the corridor outside my office; he had undertaken to escort Thea to the fourth floor. We had decided that talking to Thea during working hours would be much easier than visiting her at her boardinghouse or summoning her to Calumet Avenue. I curled my fingers into my palms, trying to gauge Thea’s mood from her brief replies to Martin’s jovial—overly jovial—remarks.
“Here she is,” Martin said unnecessarily. He pulled out a chair for Thea and seated himself, as was his wont, on the corner of my desk, facing her.
“I’m happy to see you, Thea.” I was determined to be happy to see her. Why should I be nervous about a sixteen-year-old girl? “Have you been well?”
I had not yet lowered the awning above my window. The bright sun of a fine September morning intensified the golden center of Thea’s eyes and brightened the glossy sheen on her thick auburn hair. The Rutherford’s uniform of dark gray with touches of peacock blue seemed to have been designed especially for her. She was so nicely proportioned that almost any well-made gown would look marvelous on her.
“I’m quite well, thank you, Mrs. Rutherford,” Thea replied formally. The poise that had been lacking when she arrived in Chicago was now abundantly at her disposal; the Kansas air that had clung around her had vanished like the dew on the prairie. Her features were entirely under her control; a woman of thirty would not have done better.
I drew breath to speak, but Thea forestalled me.
“I suppose you want to talk to me about living out?” She sounded calm, composed, as if we were discussing a minor matter.
I was taken aback. “Well, first I just wanted to find out how you were doing and give you a few little things I bought for you in P
aris.” I waved my hand at the packages stacked in front of my desk. “I’ll have one of our delivery drays drop them off at your—your address.”
I had been going to say, “your home,” but those words implied a degree of acceptance I was not sure I was able to offer. “Peek inside the two hatboxes,” I suggested with a smile. “The rest are just some small things I imagined you would like, and there are some items of lingerie you might not want to inspect in front of Martin.” I grinned. “All suited to your age, of course.”
I held my breath as Thea lifted the lids of the two hatboxes and inspected the pretty articles within. Would she throw them back at me with some stinging remark? But she showed neither excitement nor disdain, looking up at us after a moment with a pleasant smile.
“How nice of you. I’ll be the envy of my friends.”
I let the air out of my lungs slowly, unwilling to betray how nervous I’d been. I sensed Martin glance at me and knew we were thinking the same thing. Neither of us imagined for a second that her pleasure was genuine, but we were happy to take her reaction at face value.
Thea replaced the lids of the hatboxes and straightened in her seat. “Thank you. Shall we talk about the boardinghouse now?”
“And the unexpected news that you took part in a theatrical performance,” said Martin. “We’ve refrained so far from writing to Teddy about it, but he must be told.”
Now Thea smiled an authentic smile, her eyes seeking Martin’s in a carefree manner. “Oh, Teddy will be as hot as a kettle on the boil until he understands it was all in such a good cause. It came up quite suddenly, otherwise I’d have written to him myself to ask his permission.”
The highly unladylike retort “in a pig’s eye” hovered on my lips and I didn’t dare look at Martin. “What cause?” I asked instead.
“Why, raising money to help the wives and children of the men who died in the riots last year.” Thea’s face was the picture of saintly innocence. “There’ve been private tableaux vivants at the houses of some of the best families in Chicago to raise funds, but Mr. Canavan thought it would be a fine thing if he put on a piece at the Jewel Box to attract respectable folk who might not be able to attend a high-society function. He has many friends, you understand, from all walks of life—such generous and true-hearted people. Mr. Canavan is a very compassionate man.”
“But why you?” I asked. “Mr. Canavan has actresses enough, in my opinion.”
“He had a doubt that it might seem too commercial if he simply cast his ladies in the piece.” Thea fluttered her long eyelashes. “He invited four young ladies to play the ingénue parts.” She pronounced the French word well. “The other three were the daughters of friends of his, awfully nice girls. Mr. Canavan said we brought a freshness to the venture that made it more likely people would give generously to the cause.” She glanced up at Martin. “It was a scene from Shakespeare. I played Portia, discussing her suitors with her maid—of course we didn’t speak, but it was such fun. We raised ever so much money.”
“Were you chaperoned?” Martin asked, frowning.
“Of course. Dulcie Hignett’s mama looked after us, and Mr. Canavan hired a cab to take us home after the performances.”
“There were more than one?” I asked, surprised. Clearly, Elizabeth and Madame Belvoix didn’t know the half of it.
“Five.” Genuine delight flitted across Thea’s carefully schooled face. “And I was never tired at work; ask any of the senior staff if I seemed sleepy. I have so little amusement in my life that this tiny chance to do something different was like a tonic to me.”
She looked me straight in the eyes. “I declare I’ve done nothing that would bring a blush to my cheek or shame to my family, Mrs. Rutherford. I’m certain Mamma and Pa would have been proud of me for helping to provide food, clean clothes, and doctors and I don’t know what else to those poor widows and children. I don’t think even Pa would have objected once he’d known all the circumstances. Oh, Teddy will moan, but he’s such a stick-in-the-mud these days. I don’t see how one person in a thousand could even pretend to be as upright as he considers himself. It’s so dull and quite unnatural.”
“Your denomination disagrees with any kind of theatrical performance.” I privately agreed with Thea about Teddy, but I had to put his case to her. “We shouldn’t have taken you to the Jewel Box at all, but it seemed unfair to leave you out of a respectable outing to the theater. I’m afraid Teddy would consider actually being on stage a step too far.”
Martin cleared his throat. “I was going to tell you that being on the stage was incompatible with the standards we impose on our shopgirls,” he began. “But I’d never imagined a charitable tableau. I’m a little ashamed for not devising a way to raise funds myself. I must give the matter some thought.”
“As for living out, would you care to inspect the boardinghouse?” Thea turned the full force of her eyes on us, her expression beseeching. “It was a tremendous stroke of luck that I happened to find it. I can’t tell you how charming it is to be in a smaller house with just three couples and two single ladies. The residence is very pleasant, but there were so many girls, and some of the other sixteen-year-old young ladies had moved out, so I was one of the older ones. All those younger girls jabbering and competing with each other as to dresses and ribbons and which young gentleman looked their way at the store. Apprentices, while I’m already a proper shopgirl. They seem like such juveniles to me.” She shrugged, a pretty movement that accentuated the finely wrought shape of her slim shoulders. “Perhaps my experiences in Kansas have made me old beyond my years. I prefer the company of steadier heads.”
Actress, I thought. She’s playing a part. Several feet above me, Martin looked down his large nose at Thea in a way that chimed in perfectly with my thoughts. Well, at least he’s not fooled by her.
“We still must write Teddy about the changes you’ve made,” I said. “After all, he’s convinced he should be the one to decide what you do.”
“And isn’t that ridiculous?” Again, Thea looked directly at me. “Teddy is a mere two years older than I am. I’m a young woman, not a child, a working woman. Haven’t I shown myself capable of making sensible decisions?”
Judge not, that ye be not judged. I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat. Did I have the right to sit in judgment over Thea? Did Martin? We had both done foolish things. Had Thea done anything truly foolish? And she had suffered so much loss. I didn’t see how we could insist on her returning to the residence. As for giving her the sack . . .
“Our letter won’t reach Teddy for several weeks.” I looked up at Martin, uncertain. There was no reason to send a wire—drag Teddy away from his own escape from drudgery. We were surely capable of keeping an eye on Thea now we were back.
“And in the meantime, may I please stay in the boardinghouse?” Thea raised imploring eyes to Martin. “It would mean so much to me.”
“I must inspect it.” Martin had that unreadable expression on his face.
“Of course.” Thea smiled sweetly. “You should both come meet Mrs. Batham. Mrs. Easter Batham—her papa was a Methodist minister. You’ll see you have nothing to worry about.”
“Mrs. Batham seems like a rather unworldly lady for a boardinghouse owner,” Martin said after the visit.
“Hmmm.” I waited as Capell opened the door of the landau and let down the steps. “I suppose you’re right, but I liked her. She had eyes just the color of Mama’s.”
“Yes, I noticed the resemblance too.” Martin followed me into the carriage and settled into the bench next to me with a contented sigh. “I thought it somewhat colored your opinion of her.”
“The boardinghouse was so clean and prettily appointed,” I said defensively. “And the other boarders—those we met, anyhow—seemed like worthy people.”
“If a little dull.” Martin’s grin was touched with cynicism.
“Worthy people are often dull. I feared I would scream if Mrs. Batham mentioned her dear late husband or h
er darling spinster daughter one more time. You know, if you’re going to write Teddy, I will enclose a note.”
“Singing the praises of Mrs. B? You’re far too transparent, Nell. You’re determined to be on Thea’s side.”
“In this case, yes.” I settled the carriage rug more firmly over our knees; the evenings were becoming cool, a sure sign fall was on its way. “I honestly can’t see she’s done anything really wrong since Thanksgiving, and that’s ten months. Yes, she’s enamored of the stage, but girls so often are. Half the girls of my acquaintance in Victory indulged in amateur theatricals of some kind or the other. We have to be quite careful to reassure Teddy that there’s no cause for alarm.”
“From the point of view of worldly people like us.”
“I shouldn’t have told you Teddy said that. Not that I see anything wrong with being worldly. The pastor was sure he had to follow God’s calling to the utmost, whatever the sacrifice, and remember how that ended. If being worldly means not being a martyr—not forcing your family to be martyrs—then I’m all in favor of worldliness. I dread the idea of Teddy pushing Thea into a life she hates.”
“Do you really view marriage as a cage?”
“With anybody but you, it might have been.”
“I’m flattered, my dear, but you were contemplating marriage to the execrable Poulton—for the sake of respectability.”
“I would never have gone through with it.”
Martin stared at my face for a moment, and a blush rose to my cheeks. I turned my head away. If Martin had not come to the Eternal Life Seminary when he did—
“Well, Nellie, I won’t pursue that argument.” Martin spoke softly, and when I turned back to him, he took my gloved hand and kissed my fingertips.