by Michelle Cox
Carved out of this little corner of Rogers Park, just where Sheridan Road took an extreme bend, Mundelein College was the curious new little sister of its lurking neighbor and big brother, Loyola University. And like siblings whose rooms are just across the hall from one another, Mundelein and Loyola were likewise separated merely by a sidewalk. The men of Loyola, particularly the fraternity men, who were ever in search of respectable dates for their formals, were on the whole pleased to share their lakefront acreage with this new creation and watched with curious interest when it was formally opened by Cardinal Mundelein himself and then steadily populated with the daughters of the Chicago’s wealthy and the North Shore beyond.
“Well, doesn’t it make sense to get it over with, Elsie?”
Sr. Bernard, the acting registrar for the day, had just absented her post behind the gleaming desk to look for the missing aptitude and placement test, which was vexingly, she had grumbled, not in the spot it normally occupied.
“But I haven’t studied!” Elsie hissed, wringing her hands.
“You heard Sister Bernard,” Henrietta said, looking around the room. “It’s not something you study for necessarily.” She looked at Elsie closely now. “The more important question is whether this is something you want. Would you want to come study here?”
Would she want to come study here? Elsie was so full of nervous anticipation that she could barely answer the question. Of course she would want to study here! Who wouldn’t? It would be like a dream come true for her—a dream she had barely even been aware of.
“Yes, of course I do,” Elsie whispered, on the verge of crying once again. “I just . . . this is all happening so fast. I need time to think. And what if . . . what if I do badly?” Elsie whined nervously.
“You won’t do badly. And do you really need time to think? You can think about it later. After all, you can always wait to enroll next fall—a whole year from now—and go and live with Uncle John and Aunt Agatha in the interim. Is that what you want?”
She paused here as if waiting for an answer, but before Elsie could speak, Henrietta went on. “At least this way you’ll know where you stand; you’ll have a choice and maybe some alternatives.”
Henrietta was right, of course, Elsie realized. And she didn’t need time to think. She had done too much of that already, and it always left her feeling miserable and depressed. She should take the opportunity now. That was one of her supreme failings, she knew, that she hesitated too much. She would try to be more impetuous, more like Henrietta! But hadn’t that been her line of reasoning the night she had succumbed to Harrison? she reminded herself uneasily. Still, she resolved, pushing that thought away, she would take the test and see what happened.
In truth, ever since Mr. Howard’s funeral when Henrietta had mar-velously stood up to Grandfather and proposed that she should go to college, Elsie had thought of little else. She had dismissed it at first as ridiculous, but then Henrietta had come to visit, distributing the gifts she had brought back from England and telling them all about what she had seen and done. Eagerly, Elsie had sat in the background, watching the boys unpack boxes of English sweets and biscuits, and wondering if Henrietta would again bring up the prospect of her returning to school. So silent was Henrietta on the subject, however, that Elsie began to think, as she sat there trying to work on her embroidery, if Henrietta had really been serious. Or had it just been something she had said to purposefully anger him without any real meaning behind it? But didn’t she know how cruel that was? To tease her in that way just to annoy Grandfather?
Not being able to stand it any longer, Elsie stood up, then, feeling like she needed some air. She stepped gingerly over the brown paper wrappings littering the floor and wandered into the kitchen. She was surprised, therefore, when Henrietta appeared not moments later, slipping her arm through hers and suggesting that the two of them take a walk outdoors, to which Elsie eagerly acquiesced, though the sky looked as if it might snow at any moment.
Wrapping up tightly against the cold, they made their way across the street to Palmer Square Park, which had become so familiar to Elsie these last few months, having spent many an afternoon there slowly walking with Harrison or, alternately, running after Doris and Donny. To Henrietta, however, it was a new experience, and more than once she exclaimed that she wished she could have seen it all in bloom. The sisters fell into a silence as they walked arm in arm among the barren trees and bushes before Henrietta finally spoke again, asking Elsie if she might tell her more about what had happened with the lieutenant.
Elsie was silent at first, not knowing what to say, really, but at Henrietta’s gentle prodding, she began, haltingly, to tell the tale, and before she knew it, she felt the dam break, and she rushed on, pouring out her heart to her sister. With a very warm face, she confessed to her how Harrison had, well, made love to her, she whispered, her voice catching as she said it, how he had insisted she marry him, telling her that Grandfather might “accidentally” find out and then she would be seen as “damaged goods” and that no one else would want her. How he insisted that they should elope in the hopes that Grandfather would do something for them once they were married . . .
Elsie heard Henrietta let out a long, slow breath, which crystalized in the cold air, and likewise saw her furrowed brow, both of which made Elsie’s stomach clench at the thought of how much Henrietta must despise her now! Saying her tale of woe aloud made it sound so . . . so wretched and pathetic and vulgar. How could she have been so stupid?
Bracing herself for what she was sure would be Henrietta’s admonishment, Elsie was surprised when she did not respond in any of the number of the ways Elsie thought she might, and instead utterly stunned her by asking the most painful, the most insightful question of all, which was whether she might still be a little in love with Harrison. Somehow her sister had singled out that this was the crux of the matter, not that she had lost her virginity, not that Grandfather knew of her treachery or her betrayal, but that, despite it all, she still thought of Harrison in the night and missed him.
Elsie paused, wondering if she should tell the truth. She toyed with lying but found she could not. “Is it too awfully terrible if I say perhaps just a little?” Elsie asked quietly, looking up anxiously into Henrietta’s face.
“But why, Els?” Henrietta asked softly. “He treated you very badly.”
Elsie shrugged. She didn’t know why. Hadn’t she asked herself that a hundred times? She stood looking out at the cars rumbling slowly by on Humboldt Boulevard and hoped that if she didn’t answer, Henrietta would just carry on with the next question, but she didn’t. She remained silent, apparently waiting for her to answer. Elsie pulled at her gloves, trying to come up with something to say. She sighed. There was nothing for it but to try to explain something she wasn’t completely sure of herself.
“He . . . I suppose I feel sorry for him in a way. He . . . he’s had a hard life, actually, Hen. I . . . he’s so very handsome, and I guess I felt . . . well, special.” Her voice cracked, and she was forced to loudly swallow, adding to her humiliation. “And sometimes he was funny . . .” she said wistfully, her voice dying away then as she realized how feeble this sounded.
She expected Henrietta to scold her, but all her sister did was put her arm around her as they walked. “Oh, Els. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Your fault? How could it be your fault?” Elsie asked, stopping their walk and turning to face her. “Not everything is your fault, you know, Henrietta. I . . . I’m the one who—who let him . . .” she said in a low tone. Unexpected tears began to well up. “I’m not as strong as you, Henrietta. I tried to be,” she cried, “but I failed! Of course this is all my own fault.”
“Your fault? He forced you!” Henrietta sputtered.
“No, I . . . I shouldn’t have gone there that night. I shouldn’t have let him . . . I’m a terribly wicked girl,” she moaned, burying her face in her hands.
Henrietta had gripped her by the should
ers and gave her a little shake. “No, you’re not! You’re the best girl I know, Elsie. The kindest, sweetest, best girl,” she urged. “Listen, perhaps it’s no one’s fault. I only meant that I feel as though I’ve neglected you. That you were too much left alone. I assumed that Stanley was . . . ” At the mention of Stanley, Elsie looked up, her face wet with tears, and Henrietta broke off.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gently letting go of Elsie. “I . . . how did you leave it with Stanley?”
Elsie dug her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I told him I was engaged to Harrison, and we went our separate ways. He said he was close to proposing to Rose. So, I’m sure he’s happy now. To be rid of me. I don’t think he ever really wanted my affections, did he, Hen?” she said, looking up at her furtively.
“That was my fault, too,” Henrietta said softly. “I’ve wronged you so very much, Elsie. How can you forgive me?”
Elsie looked into Henrietta’s contrite, pitying eyes and felt overcome with love. She could never blame Henrietta for anything, really, as she very nearly worshipped her. She was everything Elsie was not.
“Oh, Hen, it pains me for you to say that. Please don’t. There is nothing to forgive.”
Henrietta managed a small smile, but Elsie saw that she was still troubled. She knew she should probably leave it at that, but a part of her was curious. Besides, she couldn’t imagine feeling any worse than she already did, so why not discover the whole truth? “So . . . it’s true, then,” she ventured tentatively. “He didn’t really like me, did he? It was you he was after.”
Henrietta sighed. “I thought I could convince him that you were better suited to him. I tried to persuade him to transfer his affections to you—someone so much more deserving . . .”
“Did you force him to ask me out?” Elsie asked quietly.
“Well, something like that,” she said hesitantly.
“It was the day at the carnival, wasn’t it? When the two of you stood off talking.”
“Yes.”
Somehow she had always known. She expected to feel worse upon hearing the truth, but she, oddly, did not. She supposed that she had already cried all the tears she had inside for Stanley. “Have you heard from him?” she asked.
“Stanley? No, I haven’t.”
“I thought maybe he would turn up at the funeral, but I guess there was really no reason for him to come. After all, he really didn’t know the Howards—”
“Elsie,” Henrietta said abruptly, “forget about Stanley. And Harrison, for that matter. You are wonderfully exceptional, in your own way. I wish I could convince you of that. I wish you could see yourself as I do. Someone so infinitely good and lovely and clever—”
“Henrietta,” Elsie interrupted her, “I’m none of those things. We both know that,” she said, irritated. “Don’t tease.”
“Yes, you are, goose!” she said, pulling on Elsie’s hair as if they were children again. She leaned her head against her sister, and Elsie could feel the warmth radiating from her. It felt good in the cold air. “Don’t settle,” Henrietta whispered, serious now. “Don’t settle for someone who doesn’t deserve you. Go to college and learn something.”
Elsie took in a sharp breath. Here was the subject that she had been waiting for!
“Be true to you and no one else,” Henrietta said, standing up straight.
“But I don’t know how . . . how to be true to myself.”
“Then you’ll learn.”
“I don’t know, Hen . . . I haven’t even finished high school,” she said tentatively, though her heart had begun to beat a little faster.
“You’ll catch up. I can’t imagine you’re really that far behind with all the books you read.”
Elsie smiled. It was true that she spent most of her long, lonely days reading.
“I don’t know if I could go away, Hen. I’m not as brave as you.”
“’Course you are! You just don’t realize it. Anyone who has to put up with Ma day in and day out is brave beyond measure.” She attempted a small laugh, but Elsie didn’t join in.
“But that’s another thing, Hen. What about Ma? And Doris and Donny? I can’t leave them!”
“Don’t worry about them! You’re only going to be across town. Anyway, I’ll worry about them for you.”
Elsie didn’t say anything, but she very much doubted Henrietta would have the time for this in light of her own situation.
“But what about Grandfather and Aunt Agatha and Uncle John? I’m sure they wouldn’t approve, and aren’t I supposed to be living with them now and marrying someone of their choice?”
“It’s hardly the medieval age, Elsie, with Grandfather as our lord and master, dispensing of us chattel as he pleases.”
Elsie could not help but laugh. “Tell Aunt Agatha that.”
“Play their game, Elsie,” Henrietta said seriously. “You can still attend their galas or go to the ballet, or what have you, to keep them happy. But you need a place to start over, a place of your own. And it’s not as if Grandfather can really disapprove; Julia tells me the school is quite respectable, full of young ladies of the highest echelons of society. So you’ll be in good company.”
Elsie groaned. “Just what I always wanted. More young ladies of the highest echelons,” she added grimly, but allowed herself, for a brief second, to feel hope. Just as quickly, however, a different, darker thought suddenly occurred to her. “I heard what you said to Grandfather, Hen,” she said slowly, turning it over in her mind. “About it being nuns and all girls so that there would be no chance of ‘romantic attachments’ I think is what you said. Is that the real reason you want me to go away? So that I won’t get into any more trouble? Isn’t that proof that you think I’m wicked?”
“Elsie! Of course that’s not what I meant!” Henrietta exclaimed.
“Are you sure?” Elsie said, looking directly into her eyes.
“Of course I’m sure. I just said that to thwart Grandfather. I can’t think of anyone more virtuous . . . yes, virtuous!” she said when Elsie gave her a disbelieving look. “No more talk like that,” Henrietta said, planting a warm kiss on her cold cheek. “Let’s at least go and look at this school, this Mundelein. Say that you will. Please.”
“Oh, all right,” Elsie had said through her tears. “But just to have a look.”
Sr. Bernard had accordingly spent the morning escorting them around the campus, Henrietta having lost no time in securing an appointment, just days after the sisters’ huddled conversation in Palmer Square. Sr. Vincent, to whom she had spoken on the telephone, had intimated that it was not the most ideal time, as the fall trimester was just finishing and everyone was preoccupied with final exams, but she thought they might make time for a quick tour.
It had fallen to Sr. Bernard, however, to show them around, as in the interim, Sr. Vincent had broken her toe and was even now laid up in the convent, which was housed on the top seven floors of the Skyscraper. Sr. Bernard, despite being the college’s president, seemed not to mind the intrusion on her time for so lowly a task, however, and gladly took them on a tour, even introducing Elsie to some of the young women, all of them hurrying to and fro, seeming to have some delightful purpose and place to be—and, of course, to be so much better than her in every possible way. Elsie also astutely noticed that the girls were quite deferential to Sr. Bernard and seemed to genuinely like her and sought her attention. A pleasant affability, almost friendship, seemed to exist between them, which was significantly different than what Elsie had experienced in her years with the more austere sisters at St. Sylvester’s, and it piqued her curiosity immensely.
Sr. Bernard proudly led them through the brilliant art deco Skyscraper, which marvelously contained the whole of the college within the lower seven floors, with all of its magnificent stonework and gleaming tile and chrome accents. Besides the usual classrooms and lecture halls, there were laboratories, a dining hall, a library, a swimming pool, a chapel, a gymnasium, and even a tiny hidde
n greenhouse tucked away on the seventh floor. From there, they trudged across the circular courtyard to quickly view Philomena and Piper Halls, both of which served as dormitories now for the girls. Each of them also contained a small private library, which Elsie would have dearly loved to meander through, but Sr. Bernard, not wanting to disturb the girls revising for their final exams, had swiftly led them back out, explaining that all classes were primarily taught by the Sisters of the Blessed Virgin Mary, though at times, certain Loyola professors were invited to give guest lectures. In fact, there was a lively sense of comradery between the two schools with plenty of opportunity for mixing—chaperoned, of course. There were also many extra-curricular activities—tennis and golf, as well as a school newspaper, various clubs—the Student Activities Council being a very popular one—and even a few sororities, though, Sr. Bernard pointed out, the school as a whole was like one big sorority, it being so small.
Elsie excitedly considered everything they saw and tried to take it all in. Every step they had taken around the tiny campus had been in a small way torturous for her in that with each lecture hall and cozy study nook revealed, she felt her desire steadily increase to be part of this world, yet, at the same time, she found it difficult to really imagine herself here. Still, the possibility of it excited her, left her almost breathless, actually, more than any ball or diamond tiara she had ever seen in the company of the Exleys had ever done. She felt an instant connection here, deep in her soul, that this was where she belonged. And yet, how could that really be? She was completely uneducated, for all practical purposes. Self-taught, at best. And watching the other girls strolling across campus, so confident and seemingly carefree, left her feeling horribly inadequate.