The Shadow Palace

by Jane Steen

  And yet none of that mattered compared to the enormity of Martin’s situation. He was in jail—I couldn’t imagine what that was like. And Lucetta, the bejeweled, beautiful obstacle to our happiness, had by somebody’s hand been transformed into a mutilated corpse. At that moment, the future looked blacker than I’d ever known it to look.

  11

  Broken

  By the time Elizabeth and I walked into the lobby of the Palmer House, I ached from head to toe. I must have been holding my neck, shoulders, and back stiffly during my rapid, impatient walk to the courthouse, and now they throbbed in pain. My impulsiveness had gotten me precisely nowhere and could have harmed Martin. Why hadn’t I listened to his wishes?

  The sight that greeted us as we walked in through the Ladies’ Entrance was not cheering. Mrs. Parnell was ensconced in an armchair strategically placed so that she could see whomever passed through the door. She rose to her feet as she saw us.

  “Oh, glory,” I heard Elizabeth murmur behind me. And then, in a louder voice, “Hello, Mother.”

  Mrs. Parnell’s smile was frosty. “I was looking all over for you, dear. I brought Mrs. Balke-Stockman to see you since you’d been quite certain you’d be back by four. May I point out that it is now six o’clock, that you have been walking around Chicago in the near dark, and that by the time you’ve dressed for dinner, we’ll be quite late? I had to apologize profusely to Mrs. Balke-Stockman, who got quite the wrong impression of you, and that’s a pity because her son is somebody you definitely should meet.”

  “It’s my fault,” I said hastily. “I made Elizabeth come with me on a fool’s errand. I’m terribly sorry.” Knowing Mrs. Parnell was already on the qui vive over my lack of a husband and now had even more reason to disapprove of me made me feel like I was a small child again, waiting for Mama’s housekeeper, Bet, to scold me over some misdemeanor.

  Mrs. Parnell turned her attention to me, and her blue glare actually softened a little. “You look quite done in, Mrs. Lillington. I accept your apology. I’ve heard the terrible news about your friends, the Rutherfords.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I must dress for dinner too.” I turned to Elizabeth and gave her arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to think only of myself.”

  “Oh, I daresay I’ll survive,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “And Mother, I have met Augustus Balke-Stockman, remember? He was that fat boy with the dirty neck who dropped his ice cream on my skirts at Grace’s coming-out party. He’s quite horrid. And you don’t even like the Balke-Stockmans. You said once that Mrs. Balke-Stockman found fault with everything.”

  Mrs. Parnell’s stern gaze wavered a little, and the edges of her mouth twitched, but she held firm. “Time to dress for dinner, Elizabeth,” she insisted.

  Knowing that Tess and Sarah would be waiting for me, I made a few more conventional remarks and fled to our rooms. I wondered if I would find Tess asleep, but she was very much awake—and in a bad mood.

  “I’m awful cross with you,” was her opening salvo. “Alice told me about Mrs. Rutherford and about Martin being taken to jail. Why did I have to hear it from Alice and not from you?” Her face crumpled.

  I sat down in the nearest chair, heedless of my dress, feeling that if I didn’t rest I would simply fall over. I looked up at Tess, who was sobbing angrily.

  “You’re always doing this to me,” she said before I could formulate a reply. “You treat me like a child, as if I’m not worthy of knowing your secrets. I’m Martin’s friend too, remember? He said I was his friend. I don’t even know where you went, but I suppose it had something to do with Martin. And you took Miss Parnell, and not me.” She stamped a foot down hard on the carpet.

  “I’m sorry.” I reflected that I was spending the whole of the dinner-hour apologizing. “But it was Sarah I didn’t want to know—”

  “I’m not going to listen to you,” Tess said, her chin sticking out. “I asked Alice to order me a carriage for tomorrow at ten, and I’m going to spend the day with my family. And speaking of Sarah, you’re going to have to look after your own child for a change and not leave her with me whenever you’re off doing something important with friends who aren’t imbeciles.”

  “I’ve never called you an im—”

  “But you treat me like one.” Tess was positively yelling. “I should have been the first person you told about Martin, not the last.” She took off her glasses and dragged her handkerchief over her eyes and mouth. “And now I’m going to bed because I’ve about had enough of you. I had Alice bring us up some sandwiches, so we’ve both eaten, and Sarah’s already asleep. You’re going to have to shift for yourself for dinner, and see how you like it.”

  She stalked off toward her bedroom. She didn’t slam the door, no doubt for fear of waking Sarah, but the glare she gave me as she turned to close it told me she’d have liked to.

  I put my face in my hands, but I was too exhausted to cry. It occurred to me that this should have been the day I saw Martin again. I didn’t know when he had returned, but if he’d been carrying my letters, he had clearly wanted to communicate with me in some way. In my mind’s eye I reimagined our arrival at Rutherford’s, with its doors flung wide open, brightly lit and full of women. Martin would have greeted me, and we would have met as friends—but I would have seen by the warmth in his eyes that he loved me. He would have shown me around his store, and I would have enjoyed his pride in his creation and showered him with admiring remarks. We would have sat down together and had tea. Sarah would have climbed on Martin’s lap, and Tess would have laughed at his jokes and beamed at him in the way she always did.

  I jerked upright, realizing that my daydream of happiness was threatening to become an actual dream as I drifted off into the merciful release of sleep. But I couldn’t risk Sarah waking up and finding our bedroom empty and me asleep in an armchair, fully dressed. Groaning, I heaved myself to my feet and lurched unsteadily toward the bell. The day was ruined—gone—broken—and I seemed to have injured everyone around me, but I would start again tomorrow.

  12

  Rudderless

  It was Alice who woke me the next day, to inform me that it was twenty minutes to ten and that Miss O’Dugan had already gone downstairs to wait for her carriage. She had dressed Sarah, and when the two of them had returned from breakfast, she had “popped in” again. Now, she told me, Sarah was playing with her marbles.

  “But I won’t be able to come in and out all day, Madam,” she continued. “I have other duties to perform as well as taking care of you, you see. If you’ll pardon me for saying so, I think your little girl needs a nursemaid.”

  “Or a governess, perhaps?” I teased the lace out of my left cuff so that it fell onto my forearm properly. “She’s keen on learning.”

  Alice paused, hairbrush in hand. “She’s still very small—but I suppose you could find a woman who’s happy to work with such a young child and doesn’t mind taking on tasks such as helping her dress. She’s an independent wee thing, anyway. She buttoned her boots almost all the way up to the top and only asked me for help with the last two or three.” She rolled a section of my hair into place with a deft movement and pinned it.

  “I may have to hire someone if Miss O’Dugan spends more time with her family.” I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to think of the steps I’d need to take to find some help with Sarah—without reinforcing Tess’s impression that she had become surplus to requirements. But all I could see in my mind’s eye was Martin. What kind of night had he spent?

  We both turned our heads as a knock sounded on the outer door of the suite, and Alice laid down the brush. “I’ll get it.” She hurried out of my bedroom, and I heard her addressing a remark to Sarah as she passed through the parlor. She returned a few moments later.

  “The gentleman from Briggs Bank sends his compliments, Madam, and would you please read his note?” She handed me a folded piece of paper.

  “Momma, are you awake now? Tess said not to disturb you until you w
ere dressed and in a good temper.” Sarah appeared at the door, looking hesitant.

  I took the piece of paper with one hand and held out the other arm to Sarah, who laid her head against my shoulder and presented her forehead to be kissed. “I’m feeling much better,” I told her. “I was so busy yesterday that I became very tired, that’s all.”

  Sarah pushed her brow more firmly into my shoulder and held up a marble for my inspection. The small ceramic sphere was glazed in an interesting pattern of yellow, blue, and white blotches.

  “It’s very pretty.” I kissed her again. “You are being careful not to leave them anyplace where you or someone else will step on them, aren’t you?”

  “Will they break if we step on them?” Sarah looked interested, as if she’d like to try the experiment.

  “They may not break, but they’ll probably chip. And you know, if someone steps on several at once, their feet will go right out from under them, and they’ll land with a bang.”

  “I mostly play with them in the corner under the funny painting of the lady with a dog.” Sarah looked thoughtful.

  “That should be all right because nobody walks back there. But do put them back in their box when you’re done, won’t you? And don’t leave any where people walk.”

  “What are we doing today?” Sarah asked. “Are we going to the park?”

  I was unfolding the piece of paper as she spoke and now looked up at Alice. “Tell the messenger I’ll be down in five minutes.” And then to Sarah: “I have to go downstairs and see the nice gentleman from the bank. You’ll have to come with me because Tess isn’t here. Can you read your book while I talk?”

  “May I do writing? I have my new paper, remember.”

  A few moments’ negotiations ended with my fabricating a small book by folding, refolding, and then cutting a sheet of Sarah’s paper to make the leaves, then using a piece of string to tie them together at the fold. While I did this, Alice expertly finished my hair, then ordered me to stand while she inspected my dress.

  It was ten minutes later when we arrived at the Grand Parlor to be greeted by the sight of Mr. Fletcher and Elizabeth seated together in a tête-à-tête. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t notice me until I stood directly in front of them and coughed. Mr. Fletcher stood up immediately. Elizabeth, fetchingly attired in a dress the exact color of her bright blue eyes, rose slowly and graciously to her feet and placed a hand on my arm.

  “I seem to be monopolizing your visitor, Nell. We’ve discovered a shared interest in the poems of Arthur Rimbaud.” Elizabeth grinned. “Do you know him? He leads a deliciously ill-regulated life, I’ve heard.”

  “I have little interest in poetry, I regret to say. How are you, Mr. Fletcher?” I shook the young man’s hand.

  “I’ll leave you to your business discussions.” Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Fletcher and blushed charmingly, bringing a look of open admiration to his face. And yet there was a certain reserve in his manner that told me that, although he liked her, he was not the sort of man to rush headlong into wooing.

  “Oh, and I should tell you before I go,” Elizabeth said, “that Mother’s being quite understanding—about everything.” She squeezed my arm. “If there’s one thing you should know about my mother, it’s that her bark is worse than her bite.” Nodding at Mr. Fletcher, she swept away, the train of her bright blue gown contrasting sharply with the muted tones of the carpet.

  I introduced Sarah to Mr. Fletcher, who went down on one knee so that his face was level with Sarah’s and asked her a series of questions about her impressions of Chicago. Within five minutes, Sarah was chatting with him nonstop about every toy, dress, hat, and pair of boots she owned.

  “You may get more than you wished for, encouraging her to rattle on like that.” I smiled at my daughter.

  “Nonsense.” Mr. Fletcher rose easily to his feet and looked down at Sarah. “I’ve never believed that children shouldn’t be heard. And in my job, I hardly see any, so I’m taking advantage of the opportunity. What are you going to do while I talk to your mother about boring old figures?” he asked her.

  “I’m going to write a dictionary,” said Sarah gravely, holding up my improvised book and only slightly stumbling over the long word. “With illustrations.” Her missing teeth made her lisp the last word charmingly.

  “Well, you’re going to need to sit at a proper table.” A large round table had just been vacated by an elderly lady in a bath chair, wheeled away by a disdainful attendant. Mr. Fletcher led Sarah to it and helped her into a chair, assisted her in arranging her pencils, and returned to where we were sitting.

  “You’re very kind,” I said. “I’m sure you’re exceeding the obligations of your job.”

  He smiled. “I have nieces and nephews. And my job is to be at the beck and call of our wealthier clients—and you are a woman of some means, Mrs. Lillington. Moreover, Mr. Rutherford instructed us that you were to be given every facility.” His eyes held mine for a moment, his expression sympathetic. “I’m so terribly sorry about the tragedy at Rutherford’s,” he said, dropping his voice. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe for a moment that Mr. Rutherford had any involvement in his wife’s death. None of us do.”

  “Neither do I.” I cleared my throat against the rise of emotion, and we were both silent. Not an awkward silence though. Mr. Fletcher may have been young, but there was nothing awkward about him. His manner was easy and confident without being impertinent.

  “I am here,” he continued after a few moments, “to give you a more thorough picture of how your capital is invested. I would like to put some questions to you about how you wish those investments to proceed in Mr. Rutherford’s absence. He has been in regular communication with us and no doubt will be again, but we feel it would be imprudent not to do everything we can to get specific instructions.”

  “Very well,” I replied. “Will you be able to explain to me how the overall sum is shared between myself and Miss O’Dugan? The question has arisen, and I would like to have a better idea of what she owns.”

  “That will be no difficulty.”

  The next forty minutes were absorbed by a detailed discussion, held in low voices and with occasional reference to a notebook in which Mr. Fletcher had noted the important points of my investments in a similar manner to the one Martin employed. I was a little daunted at the outset, but Mr. Fletcher’s explanations were clear. He put questions to me in a way that required common sense rather than arcane financial knowledge to answer. He then patiently sat through Sarah’s explanation of her dictionary, which consisted of words she knew how to write followed by a page of squiggles which represented the definition, and a drawing that generally resembled nothing at all.

  I spent the rest of the day alone with Sarah. This was such a delight, in so many ways, that I was sorry I couldn’t wholeheartedly enter into her little world. But my mind couldn’t help straying to Martin, and I wondered how I could summon Mr. Salazar to the hotel without drawing attention to myself.

  I was able to look at the newspapers in the reading room later that afternoon while Sarah looked at a picture book, but the accounts were contradictory. Martin had been found with a knife in his hand; or prostrate with grief, sobbing above his wife’s butchered body; or cold and unemotional when questioned by the police.

  The facts that I gleaned by noting when they appeared in all of the reports were that he had returned from Saint Louis, where he had been meeting with his business partner, Mr. Fassbinder, on Tuesday morning. Lucetta had been waiting for him for some time in a large room on the fourth floor that held the props for window-dressing. This odd location was frequently remarked upon, but no clear explanation was given. Martin had arrived and was told of his wife’s presence in the building. He had spent a few minutes sorting through his mail, had visited the washroom, and had proceeded upstairs. That was the point at which accounts had become confused and unclear except for one detail—the blood. There had been a great deal of blood.r />
  By the time we went up to our rooms to dress for dinner, the exhaustion of the previous day was threatening to creep back. Alice had finished with me and taken her leave when Tess walked in, looking no less tired than I felt. We stared at each other, a little wary, but I felt it was incumbent upon me to make the first move.

  “Did you have a pleasant day?” That seemed like a safe enough question.

  Tess hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry I was cross with you, Nell.”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you. I was beside myself—and somehow the opportunity to speak with you without Sarah hearing passed me by.”

  I stood up and went to Tess, embracing her warmly. She returned the hug.

  “You look very pretty.” She touched the lace on my dress.

  I sniffed back a threatening tear. “Shall I call Alice back to help you dress? You could wear the pale lilac-and-white dinner dress you haven’t worn yet.”

  “Would you help me?” Tess gave a tentative half smile. “I’d rather you did.”

  She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later smelling of lavender soap, and I helped her into her dress and redid her fine, flyaway hair. Sarah emerged from our bedroom when she heard the running water in the bathroom and greeted Tess with joy before returning to her game.

  “I’m still a little cross with you.” Tess looked at me over her spectacles as I pinned an arrangement of feathers and flowers onto her topknot.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I tried to sound neutral. “If there’s anything I can do to make you less cross with me, please let me know.”

  Tess was silent while I finished dressing her hair. “You could let me know how much money I have,” she said eventually.