by Jane Steen
I was back downstairs in time to intercept Martin just as he reached the library door.
“Don’t go in yet.” I grasped his hand and towed him toward the front parlor, shutting the door firmly. “While you were talking to Billy, Donny more or less asked me for Tess’s hand in marriage.”
“My eye.” Martin’s face lit up with amusement. “What did we put in the drinking water?”
“Billy’s little announcement encouraged him—but he’s shy, Martin.”
“Ah, no wonder you were so eager to keep him in the house. Are you going to turn into one of those matchmaking women?”
“Probably. Once one’s own romance is well settled, what other fun can a woman have?”
Martin answered that entirely rhetorical question by sweeping me into his arms and kissing me thoroughly. We only broke apart when we heard a door opening. We stared at each other.
“I expect that’s Beatrice clearing away the coffee things,” Martin said, his hands still on my waist. “Perhaps we should give them another five minutes.”
“I’m going to peek around the door.”
“Open it slowly or the latch will click. Here—” and Martin, looking just as eager as I was, eased the thick door open with a finger on the deadlatch so I could look round.
From my vantage point I saw nothing—and heard nothing except for the well-known pattering of light footsteps on the stairs. Another pair of stockings about to be ruined, no doubt. Sarah always kicked off her slippers.
“Donny!” I heard a thump as Sarah jumped from the second stair across to the hallway rug, as she so often did. I deduced that the click of the door had been Donny emerging from the library.
“Look at my drawing,” Sarah’s voice continued. “It’s the Confederate and Union flags, see? I have to learn all the names of the battles—don’t you think that’s boring? But it’s Saturday, so Miss Baker let me draw instead.” She paused. “Why are you holding Tess’s hand?”
I turned and flew into Martin’s arms, hiding my squeal of joy in his waistcoat.
Part IV
1880
44
Arrangements
January 1880
A touch of romance made our Christmas all the merrier, and the absence of Thea ensured that harmony reigned in our small household. The one discordant note was the prospect of imminent separation. Martin had asked for a few weeks to think about the best arrangement for Tess and Donny before giving his advice; by the end of January, when he summoned Donny for a meeting, Tess and I were nervous.
“I don’t want to lose you.” Tess’s hand curled around mine, her eyes serious and imploring behind their spectacles.
“You won’t lose me.” I put my arms around her, feeling the warmth from the back parlor’s well-stacked fire bathe the two of us in its comforting rays. “You’re not having second thoughts about marrying, are you?”
“No, silly.”
Tess backed out of my embrace a little so she could look at the ring on her left hand. A single rose-cut diamond, prettily set, gathered the light of the fire in its facets; I knew it had “Donny to Tess” inscribed on the inside. There had been some discussion between Martin and Donny whether “Donald to Teresa” would be more appropriate, but Donny had come down in favor of informality and simplicity. The unostentatious piece of jewelry had pleased Tess more than a bushel of rubies would an empress.
“It’s beautiful.” I admired the jewel for the thousandth time. “An extraordinarily pretty stone.” It had cost Donny quite a large portion of his savings, Martin had told me, even though he’d let the young man have it at cost. Donny, not being prone to any kind of temptation in the way of drink or amusements, had saved almost every cent he’d earned since we met him. Martin told me he had glowed with pride at being able to buy a ring.
“It is extraordinarily pretty.” Tess gave a satisfied nod and crossed to the French windows, outside which the snow was falling fast; it was very cold. “Where are the men? Nell, I wish Martin wasn’t so mysterious about this idea of his. Hasn’t he told you anything?”
“He hasn’t given me a clue. I’m certain he’s enjoying himself. Isn’t it ridiculous that we have to wait around like a pair of spare boots for the menfolk to decide on where you live?”
“Supposing we’re a long way away?” Tess looked truly worried. “We can’t afford to live on this street, can we, Nell?”
“I imagine not.” I didn’t want to give Tess—or myself—false hopes. Since she’d shown me her little book, I had a pretty good notion of what her total wealth amounted to, and it would not buy a house on Calumet Avenue or even close. Perhaps in the area nearer to the railroad where we had our stables? But that was hardly suitable. I had begun to resign myself to having Tess at a distance, in some comfortable but modest neighborhood, and the idea depressed me. Would she and Donny be all right on their own?
A noise in the hallway suggested Martin and Donny were joining us at last. I opened the door, relieved to see the two of them with broad smiles on their faces. Donny looked most presentable in a tweed sack coat and checked waistcoat, the latter being our Christmas gift to him; he had made an effort to get his thick hair to lie down a little, and the new style suited him.
“Well!” Martin rubbed his hands together, approaching the fire to warm them. “I have the future groom’s approval in principle, but he defers to his fiancée for the final decision. Let’s go, shall we? Donny, you and Tess should lead the way.”
I narrowed my eyes at my husband. “What have you dreamed up? And why has it taken you so many weeks? And why the mysterious airs now?”
Martin affected an air of utter candidness as he offered me his arm. “I am, as I know Joe has told you behind my back, a showman at heart. I’m afraid that as my wife you must indulge that side of me occasionally. The delay was due to the need to consider every possible solution, as I am also a cautious man. In the end, I adopted the most obvious scheme, the one that will make both of you ladies happy and afford the most convenience to Donny and myself. And to my relief, he agrees it’s convenient. Lead on, Donny.”
We followed the pair, who, as always, looked a little incongruous because of the considerable difference in height. I was becoming accustomed to seeing Tess’s hand in Donny’s, a habit they had adopted rather than proceeding arm-in-arm because Tess found it tiring to reach so far up.
We didn’t have far to go. Donny took us down the short stub of corridor that led to Martin’s billiard room, a large pavilion-like space that contained, unsurprisingly, a billiard table. There was also a spacious area closer to the fire that held a variety of leather-covered armchairs. Shelving displayed a few books and periodicals about horses and machines and sporting pursuits and other topics of masculine interest.
“We’re going to live in the billiard room?” Tess wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“Above it.” Martin grinned conspiratorially at Donny.
“But there’s nothing above it except the roof.” Tess looked upward in dismay, and I saw Martin swallow hard in an effort not to laugh out loud. He looked like a man who had invented a terrific joke and was waiting for everyone else to understand it. I did.
“You’re going to build above the billiard room—or are you going to knock it down and start again? It’s not as if you use this room all that much.” I folded my arms and gave my husband what I hoped was a challenging stare.
“Oh, don’t knock it down.” Tess’s eyes shone. “We could hold a dance in here or a big party—well, we could if you took that silly table out.” She tipped her head back to look at the coffered ceiling. “Would we really have all that space just to ourselves?”
“It would be quite snug.” Martin, whose eyebrows had risen when Tess called his billiard table silly, now looked anxious. “None of your rooms would be as large as the ones you occupy now in our house—but I would like it to be a complete little apartment in itself, and Donny agrees with me. You could eat your meals there by yourselves if you wish.”
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“You’re very welcome to dine with us,” I said quickly. “Heaven only knows we have enough room.”
“But if you were entertaining, and I didn’t want to sit and listen to you all talking about things I’m not interested in, I would hide away in my own house instead.” Tess clapped her hands. “That sounds just fine. Am I going to pay for the building?”
Martin made a face. “You’d rent it, I suppose—or we’d make an arrangement based on Donny continuing to work for us.” He looked at Tess, his expression dubious. “I don’t like the thought of making part of our house a separate property in the legal sense, if it’s all right with you. And this way you can live on your income, yours from the investments I’ve made for you and Donny’s from his work. You should save your capital for when you need it. If my estimates are right, you might afford a maid to do your cooking and cleaning. You won’t be able to be grand.”
“But we’ll be standing on our own two feet, fair and square.” Donny’s face wore the expression he often had, a little puzzled at the way the world worked. “At least—holy smokes, when I asked Tess to marry me, I’d forgotten she was a rich lady. Are you sure this is all right?” he asked Martin.
“You’ll more than make up for the unfortunate fact of Tess’s money by your hard work.” Martin clapped the younger man on one massive shoulder. “As for Nell and I, all the Prairie Avenue district will consider us dreadfully eccentric—but who cares? Every other solution I came up with involved splitting up my family, and I’m not prepared to do that. As long as it works for the five of us, I’ll be a happy man.”
“You don’t have to give up your billiard table,” I said to Martin once the two of us were alone again. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Martin shrugged. “I might want to—you never know.” He reached out a hand to me, pulling me in close. “I realize there’s far more to this house than I originally intended. Perhaps I should have kept the original stable block, although I do like the extra room for carriages in the one we have and the larger garden I put in because we didn’t need a stable yard.”
“Husband dear, you are what Grandmama would have called hopelessly nouveau riche.” I raised myself up on my toes to kiss Martin’s smoothly shaven cheek. “If you build a fancy estate in Lake Forest instead of the pretty country house you’ve promised me, I’ll desert you and find myself a sensible man who keeps one carriage.”
“And whose idea was the landaulet?” Martin nuzzled my neck but then pulled back, sighing. “I guess I was afraid of how much of a step backward I was taking after the Prairie Avenue house—imagining the other fellows would think less of me if I didn’t at least have a sporting room.”
“And whose idea was the phaeton you’re planning to buy?” I teased him. “Perhaps you’ll have to be content with impressing the ‘fellows’ with your superior horseflesh and your fine carriages. Thank you for resisting the temptation to build another palace like the one you built for Lucetta. I suppose this house is very plain compared to that symphony in marble.”
“But it’s still too big for you, isn’t it?” Martin’s large hand closed around mine, warm and comforting as we strolled toward the front of the house. “And you’ve never said a word against it. Why didn’t you object?”
“Because I was a new bride and wanted my husband to be happy.” I grinned up at Martin, the elation and excitement of knowing that Tess would still be near to me coursing through my body. “I know I try to do too much and take on too many responsibilities and then get cross and irritable, and that I underestimate you and fail to trust you and criticize when I should be telling you how wonderful you are. It’s been hard for me to adjust to being a wife as well as a mother and dressmaker. So I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care enough about houses to make that topic into an argument. It just wasn’t a fight I wanted to pick.”
Martin smiled. “I rather enjoy it when we argue, in some respects. I like the way your eyes narrow and your hair seems to acquire an extra curl, and the way you stand there all ramrod-stiff, as if you’re bracing yourself for battle. It reminds me of when you were the little girl who made my sad days so much brighter.” He pulled me into the front parlor so he could shut the door and wrap his arms around my waist again. “Besides, making up after our disagreements is such fun.”
He demonstrated his meaning with sufficient proof of marital affection that I was sure my hair was curling more than usual. But then he released me again and leaned his forehead against mine. “Of course, if you want, we could sell up and start again with a smaller house.”
“Heavens, no—not just as you’ve settled things so nicely for Tess. Anyway, I’d be an ungrateful fool if I were to reject such a lovely house.” I looked at the cream silk wall hangings and the deep yellow drapes, beyond which a blizzard was now hurling snow at our windows, blotting out our view of the lake. The green damask on the settees gleamed; polished wood reflected the flames of the fire that crackled under the mantelpiece, where a clock ticked with a muted yet decisive sound, pleasant on the ears. It had become familiar to me—it was home. Besides—
“We can’t leave Ruth.” Our tiny daughter rested in a sheltered corner of the garden beneath a simple square of buff-colored polished sandstone bearing her first name and the date 1879. A month after my return to Chicago, we had watched the planting of a redbud tree to shelter her. I would see neither plaque nor tree again until the snow melted; and with that thought I pictured a far-off spring when I could sit in the sunshine under a tree grown much larger, its heart-shaped leaves filtering the sunlight. It would, perhaps, shade a grown-up Sarah, her children, even some younger brothers and sisters playing on the cool grass. No, this house had earned its right to be called “home.” Even its too-new smell had worn off, softened by a two-year patina of beeswax, potpourri, and all the scents of family life.
“This is the Rutherford house now.” I leaned into my husband’s arms again, our embrace becoming tender as we remembered the griefs and joys of 1879. “The Rutherford-Clark house, in fact—or at least it will be once Tess and Donny are married. Big enough for two families and a whole host of experiences. Build away, Martin Rutherford.” I smoothed my palms down Martin’s cheeks, just as I had when my hands were those of an innocent child. “We all trust you to create a home for us.”
45
Sons and daughters
Teddy Lombardi rose to his feet, holding his teacup aloft, and smiled round at the assembled company. A cry of, “Speech! Speech!” from Martin brought a boyish flush to his cheeks, but he drew himself up to his full, lanky height.
“I thank you for the birthday wishes.” He made a slight bow toward all of us. “I would like to extend my own felicitations to my dear friend Sarah on the occasion of her ninth birthday. I am honored and proud to share this date with such a charming young lady.” He laughed as Martin whistled and several of us said, “Hear, hear,” and then continued. “But especially, I haven’t yet wished the prospective bride and groom every happiness. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you: the bride and groom.”
“To the bride and groom!” Sarah stood up too, raising her teacup with unusual caution. Her new dress was of white pleated mousseline with a pale green princess-line bodice gathered into swags and finished with a bow at the level of her lower hip, and she was being extra careful not to stain the fine fabrics. Alice had arranged her hair into a style that pulled it well away from her face, allowing large ringlets to cascade down from the back of her head; I was beginning to glimpse what my daughter would look like when she was old enough to put her hair up. She took a careful sip of her tea, barely wincing. She did not enjoy tea much but was trying to get used to drinking it.
We all stood, of course, except a blushing Tess and a slightly bemused Donny, who remained sitting side by side looking just as shy and awkward as any young couple should. It was a small gathering—us three Rutherfords, Tess and Donny, Miss Baker, and Teddy. Sarah, whom we’d allowed to choose both the type of celebration and the g
uests, had insisted on an English afternoon tea. She had also ruled that both Miss Baker and Teddy were to attend our “family” celebration since, she said, she regarded Miss Baker as almost family and Teddy as a sort of cousin.
As we all resumed our places, Sarah, with a conspiratorial glance at me and Martin, put her cup and saucer down. She crossed to the cabinet, from which she extracted two small, velvet-covered boxes.
“We have presents for the gentlemen,” she announced. “One for Teddy because it’s his birthday, and one for Donny because—well, because I noticed it when we were looking for Teddy’s present, and I just wanted to give it to you, Donny.” She came to stand in front of the young man, who looked flustered at all the attention he was getting, with an anxious look on her face. “Tess is my best Tess, and I guess I shouldn’t have been unfriendly to you.”
“You never were.” Donny took the box, the familiar small frown on his face. “You’ve always been most genteel to me, Miss Sarah—Miss Rutherford.” His huge, work-roughened hand wrapped around her small, slim fingers. “When were you ever unfriendly?”
“I think I was.” Sarah looked back at the rest of us. “Once or twice.” She leaned in and kissed Donny on the cheek. “This is for all the birthdays you’ve had and didn’t know about. And this,” she kissed him on the other cheek, “is for friendship forever more. You have to wait to open your box till I’ve given Teddy his because they’re almost the same.”
She ran lightly around to where Teddy was sitting, pressing the velvet box into his hand, and then stepped back, raising her hands in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “Ready? One, two, three . . . Now.”