A Proper Pursuit

by Lynn Austin

  I also discovered the extreme pain involved in the life of a socialite. I acquired rows of welts around my middle from lacing my corset too tightly and bubbly blisters on my feet from dancing in delicate silk slippers all evening. My head throbbed from staying constantly alert, remembering dozens of names, and keeping the conversational tennis ball in play. But the part of me that ached the most was my face. Holding a mysterious smile in place for four or five hours was very hard work.

  My evening did not get off to a very good start either. Aunt Matt happened to be standing in the foyer when I descended the stairs in my finery, and I knew from the frown on her face that I had disappointed her.

  “So. I see you’re still running around with Agnes.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Matt.” I felt the need to apologize, but I didn’t know why. “She and Uncle Henry are taking me to a fund-raiser for the Art Institute. Aunt Agnes says they’ve opened a new building on Michigan Avenue recently, and now they’re raising money to expand their art collection.”

  Aunt Matt clucked her tongue in disapproval. “It’s just a veiled excuse for Agnes to find you a rich husband. Listen to me, Violet. Agnes married Henry Paine for his money. So before you blindly follow the path she took, I suggest that you ask her how happy her marriage has been.”

  “That’s a rather personal question, isn’t it? I-I really wouldn’t feel right asking her such a thing.”

  “Then I’ll tell you. Henry keeps a mistress.” If Aunt Matt intended to shock me, she had succeeded. She had also given me more information than I cared to know.

  “Oh … I see.”

  “Wealthy society men all have them, you know. They marry a suitable woman—whom they don’t love—for propriety’s sake and keep a mistress on the side. Nobody ever talks about this dirty little secret, though, do they?”

  “No,” I said quietly. I could feel my cheeks burning.

  “If you’re going to run with Agnes’ crowd, then you need to know the truth about them.”

  I wanted desperately to change the subject. “But the Art Institute is a good cause, isn’t it? Art and culture aren’t frivolous.”

  “No, they aren’t frivolous. But I would be willing to bet that very few of the funds they raise will be used to support female artists. It’s all right for a woman to be the object of art, but that’s all she’s allowed to be—an object. It’s too bad, because there are some very fine female artists, you know. The American painter Mary Cassatt helped design the interior of the Woman’s Pavilion at the Columbian Exposition.”

  “I’ll be very eager to see it when you take me there, Aunt Matt.

  But I need to leave now. I think Aunt Agnes’ carriage is here.”

  “Be very careful, Violet,” she said ominously.

  “I will.” I hurried out the door.

  I felt quite differently toward Uncle Henry after learning that he was an adulterer. Fortunately, it was dark inside the carriage, so I didn’t have to face him. Aunt Agnes started dispensing advice the moment the horses began to move.

  “Now, don’t be nervous, Violet. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. You’ve handled yourself splendidly so far. The other ladies have been very favorably impressed with you. But tonight will be an important evening for you. Everyone who is anyone will be there—and that includes several potential suitors, of course.”

  She went on and on this way for the entire carriage ride, so I didn’t have to do much more than nod my head and murmur in agreement. Uncle Henry said nothing at all.

  From the moment we arrived at the fund-raiser, the gaiety and glitter swept me away. The event was held in a private residence overlooking the lake, a mansion by anyone’s standards. The party was already in full swing, and the magnificent ballroom, which occupied the entire third floor, echoed with music and the laughter of hundreds of vivacious guests. I soon discovered that Aunt Matt had been right; the event had very little to do with art but was all about gowns and jewels and hobnobbing with the elite. For Aunt Agnes, it was an opportunity to find me a wealthy husband.

  The Grant sisters greeted me like a long-lost friend. Their real names were Hattie and Nettie, but I secretly called them Haughty and Naughty. They pretended to be nice to me, and they made a huge fuss over my gown, but I could tell that their comments were insincere. I’d spent hours learning how to make idle, insincere chit-chat at Madame Beauchamps’ school, so it was easy for me to recognize it. Haughty made such a show of fluttering her fan to command attention that I wanted to yank it out of her hand and toss it into the fireplace.

  Eventually a group of eligible bachelors joined us, and since mine was a new face among these pitifully bored creatures, the men accorded me a great deal of attention. Several of the women I’d met during my afternoon teas eagerly introduced me to their nephews and sons and grandsons. Naughty’s fixed smile slipped into a narrow-eyed glower of jealousy when one of the women introduced me to her great-nephew Edward. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Naughty had designs on him.

  The orchestra kept the event merry, playing an endless variety of waltzes, and I danced with dozens of young men. After a while, my would-be suitors seemed as alike as peas and as phony as wooden nickels. We might have been at a masquerade ball, where all of the men wore the same mask to hide their true identities. I was disappointed that none of them fell in love with me at first sight the way Aunt Birdie’s husband had fallen for her. Nor did I feel the fever of true love toward any of them.

  After countless dances, several glasses of punch, and a few trips to the buffet table with my pea-pod partners, I wanted to collapse in exhaustion. I extricated myself from a conversation with one of the peas and was trying to slip away for a few moments alone—mostly to give my tired face a rest—when Nelson Kent came up beside me.

  “This is quite a feat of endurance, isn’t it, Miss Hayes? How are you holding up?” His was the first sincere expression I had seen all night. I took a chance and wiped the enigmatic smile off my face and answered truthfully.

  “To be honest, I’m exhausted. I was just sneaking away from it all to rest for a few minutes.”

  “Good idea. Come on. I know where there’s a balcony. We can get a breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as the air ever gets here in Chicago.” He linked arms with me and led the way outside to a spacious, third-floor balcony. A dozen other people already milled around out there, so I knew we would be well chaperoned.

  “How do you like the view?” he asked, pointing to the night sky above Lake Michigan. “Whenever I get tired of all this rigmarole, I like to go outside and look at the stars. They remind me of what’s real and true.”

  Handsome, elegant Nelson Kent intrigued me. He was so casual and comfortable with the socially elite and with all of this wealth, yet he didn’t keep his mask in place like the others had. Of all the young gentlemen with whom I’d danced and sipped punch, he alone seemed genuine—and I felt at ease with him for some reason, as if we were old friends.

  We talked for several minutes about real things, and I didn’t feel the need to pretend. The only time Nelson’s mask went up was when someone approached us. He would offer his charming smile as he greeted them, shaking hands, saying a personal word or two, and asking a question to show he was interested in them—obviously as well trained as I had been—but I could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.

  “Tell me who you really are, Nelson,” I said between interruptions.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … for starters, do you work here in Chicago?”

  “I just graduated from university last month. I’m taking some time off before I begin working with my father’s firm.”

  “What does your father do?”

  “Several different things—he’s a property manager, a real-estate developer, an investor. He wants me to learn his business from the ground up, but he promised me an executive position alongside him once I’ve settled down.”

  “And do you want to settle down?”

 
; “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I’m his only son, so it’s expected of me.”

  He looked so unhappy that I felt compelled to ask, “If you could choose to be anything you wanted to be, what would you choose?”

  “That’s a good question. I would have to think about it… .”His worried frown deepened, and he gazed out over the lake for a moment before saying, “I know I’d choose something challenging— that’s for certain. I like the business world, but I doubt if working for my father will be very demanding. His business is well established. Safe. Secure… . But if I could choose for myself, I’d like to take more risks, branch out into something new and modern—maybe I’d invest in one of the new horseless carriages or a flying machine or some other novel invention.”

  “Why don’t you do it, then?”

  “I have no capital of my own,” he replied, showing me his empty hands. “And my father is a very conservative investor. He would never take a chance on something unless it’s tried and true… . But what about you, Violet? What would you like to do if you had a choice?”

  “The proper answer to that question is to get married and have a family,” I told him. “Women aren’t supposed to dream of anything else.”

  He must have picked up a note of discontent in my tone or expression because he said, “I get the feeling that you’re different. That you find this life rather boring… . Oh, don’t worry—it’s boring to me too. So tell me the truth, Violet. What would you really like to do?”

  I took a chance and let my own mask slip a little further. “This is very scandalous, so please don’t tell my Aunt Agnes, but I took part in a march for women’s rights with my Aunt Matilda the other day.”

  “No kidding? Good for you. So what did you think? Are you going to join them and be a suffragette too?”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I laughed. “My father would tie me up and carry me back to Lockport in a gunnysack if he ever found out. But my aunt and all the others in the movement are dreaming of a future when women will be accepted as equals with men. She thinks women will be able to get an education and hold professional positions someday. Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He looked me right in the eye when he said it, and I knew he was one of the few good men that Aunt Matilda had mentioned. “So if things were different, Violet, and men accepted women as equals, what would you become?”

  “A detective.”

  “Really.” He smiled. A genuine one. He wasn’t laughing at me or my idea. And he seemed very pleased that I had told him the truth.

  “I would love to solve mysteries and help catch notorious criminals,” I told him, though I realized that my career as a detective hadn’t gotten off to a very good start. I had lived in Chicago for nearly a week and still hadn’t found my mother.

  “How is it that you became interested in detective work?” he asked. But I never had a chance to reply. We were interrupted again by one of the peas I had danced with earlier.

  “There you are, Nelson. Hiding out here, are you? And with the prettiest woman at the party too. The Grant sisters are looking for you,” he told Nelson. “They said that you promised both of them a waltz, and time is running out.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned back to me with a sigh. When the pea moved on and we were alone again, he asked, “Have you met the Grant sisters?”

  “Oh, yes—Haughty and Naughty.”

  Nelson broke into a wide grin. “What did you call them?”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth. How had I allowed my secret names for them to slip out?

  “Come on,” he said, laughing. “Tell me what you just called them… . Please?”

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  “Of course not. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “Well, I invented a system for recalling names, you see. I make up a fake one that’s similar to the real one, based on the person’s attributes. I know the Grant sisters’ real names are Hattie and Nettie—but I’ve nicknamed them Haughty and Naughty.”

  Nelson laughed so loudly that people turned to stare in our direction. “You are one of a kind, Violet Hayes.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it. “And by the way, you look lovely when you blush.”

  Someone else interrupted us, looking for me, this time. “Your Aunt Agnes wants you right away.”

  “She probably found another bachelor to introduce me to,” I mumbled, loud enough for only Nelson to hear. “I’d better go.” He tightened his grip on my hand to prevent me from leaving.

  “Wait. I want to ask you something first.” He turned to the messenger and said, “Tell Mrs. Paine that Miss Hayes will be there in a moment.” Nelson was still holding my hand when he asked, “Will you let me escort you to that silly party my grandmother insists on giving next week? I like you, Violet. You’re different from all the others. You don’t playact with me. I think we could become good friends. Besides, I don’t think I have the energy to go through these phony dating rituals all over again next Saturday. Do you?”

  I didn’t care about playing the coquette. And I was no longer sure that I wanted a rich husband if he was going to turn out to be unfaithful like Uncle Henry. I was tired of flirting and very tired of smiling enigmatically. It was true that my heart didn’t flutter uncontrollably when I was with Nelson, but he already seemed like a good friend, even though I barely knew him.

  “I agree with you,” I told him. “This is very tiring. I would be happy to let you escort me on Saturday.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up around seven o’clock. And I’ll want to know what other names you’ve dreamed up for people … and what you call me.”

  “Now that you mention it, I’ve never made up one for you.” I smiled—a genuine one—and hurried off to find Aunt Agnes. She would be disappointed with me for accepting Nelson’s offer and not playing the game a little longer, but I think Aunt Matt would be pleased with my decision. Of course Aunt Birdie would remind me to make sure I married for love, and my grandmother … I had no idea what she would say. I had been ignoring her terribly while running around the city with her two sisters.

  When I found Aunt Agnes, she had a smile of satisfaction on her face and another eligible bachelor in her clutches. I managed to hold up and keep smiling for the remainder of the evening, but I felt enormously relieved when it was time to go home.

  Uncle Henry climbed into the carriage with us, leaned back against the seat, and promptly fell asleep. I sighed with relief. I had dreaded conversing with him, especially after watching him flirt with every attractive matron at the party. I wished that Aunt Matt had never told me about his mistress. I would have been content to ride home in silence, but Aunt Agnes wanted to review the entire evening in great detail.

  “You certainly attracted a great deal of attention among the eligible bachelors tonight. I daresay you danced with every one of them. Did you enjoy yourself this evening?”

  “Yes, very much. Thank you for inviting me.” I tried not to sound as weary as I felt. “I met a lot of nice people. And the food was delicious too.”

  “Anyone in particular who struck your fancy?”

  “No—not really.”

  “Well, I noticed that you spent a considerable amount of time in the company of young Nelson Kent out on the balcony.” And if Aunt Agnes had noticed, so had everyone else at the ball.

  “He’s different from the others.”

  “I think I know why he is so eager to move quickly with you. His grandmother told me that Nelson’s father promised him a place in his firm once he settles down.”

  “Yes, Nelson told me the same thing.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you? He won’t get ahead until he is suitably married. The sooner he finds a wife, the sooner he’ll get his hands on his father’s money.”

  Was that why he’d been so friendly to me? Had I misread him completely? If what Aunt Agnes said was true, then Nelson wasn’t being genuine with me at all; he was looking f
or someone he could court and marry quickly. I was new, with no suitors competing for my hand, and he probably considered me an easy catch. After all, I’d admitted that I didn’t enjoy playing the flirtatious game of cat and mouse.

  “I like Nelson, Aunt Agnes, but I’m not in a hurry to rush to the altar with him.”

  “Well, you should be in a bit of a hurry at your age. A woman’s beauty fades very quickly after her twentieth birthday, you know. And her choice of suitors thins considerably too.”

  I didn’t care if my beauty was fading—I wasn’t ready to settle down yet. If only I could enjoy a little freedom before I went from being under my father’s protection and supervision to being under my husband’s rule. According to Aunt Matt, I would become my husband’s property once I married, and I’d have to act the part he expected me to play for the rest of my life.Was I being naïve to want love?Was it only the stuff of romance stories or the musings of my addled aunt Birdie?

  The carriage hit a bump in the road and Uncle Henry shifted positions, snorting loudly in his sleep. We happened to be passing beneath a gaslight and I saw the look Aunt Agnes gave him before she turned away; it was not a loving one. Except for the carriage ride to and from the ball, I hadn’t seen my aunt and uncle together all evening. Aunt Matt had piqued my curiosity, but I would never dare ask someone about her marriage.

  “I’m going to send over my seamstress on Monday morning, Violet. You’re going to need a new gown for the party at the Kent home next Saturday.”

  “Thank you. That’s very generous of you.” But I knew that my aunt’s offer wasn’t entirely altruistic. She would move up the social ladder along with me if I married well.

  The lights were still glowing in our parlor when I arrived home, and I was surprised to find my grandmother waiting up for me, knitting a pair of socks. She looked tired. According to the hall clock, it was nearly one in the morning.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  “That’s okay, dear. How was the party? Did you have a good time?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You don’t sound very enthused.”