by Michelle Cox
Henrietta smiled and pinched him.
“Ow!” Clive said, rubbing the spot on his arm. “Why is it that you have a propensity to pinch me? I put it down to having too many brothers.”
“You deserve it!” Henrietta retorted.
“Well, what’s it to be, then? Or should I surprise you?”
Henrietta thought for only a moment, as it hadn’t taken long to come up with an idea. It was a place she had always aspired to go to. “I’llchoose, thank you very much. And I choose the Aragon Ballroom!”
“The Aragon?” he said, surprised. “Darling, if it’s dancing you want, we could go to the Drake or the Palmer House. Even the Burgess Club. The Aragon’s rather beneath us, don’t you think?” he asked, somewhat seriously.
“Again—snob!” she said, laughing. “It’s a beautiful place, so says everyone. I’ve always wanted to go to there, but I never had something nice enough to wear. But now I do! Please, Clive,” she asked with a little pout in her voice. “You said it was my choice.”
“Well, I suppose so,” he said, tucking his chin to his chest to look down at her.
“And can I ask Lucy and Gwen? And maybe Elsie would want to go, too . . .”
“Ugh!” he said, flopping his free arm onto the pillows. “I should have just surprised you.”
“Shall I take that as a yes?” she asked, a smile on her face now as she put a hand on his thigh and slowly lowered it.
With surprising alacrity, he suddenly rolled on top of her again, causing her to shriek in surprise. “You win,” he said, kissing her neck and then her ear. “The Aragon it shall be.”
Henrietta took a deep breath to dispel her wandering thoughts and reached for the last family gift to be wrapped—Eugene’s. He was due home from Fishburne soon—on Christmas Eve, actually—if there was no delay in his transportation. She was unsure how to feel about his return. A part of her was anxious to see him, but she hoped he would be pleasant company, for all of their sakes, especially as it had been decided that she and Clive would spend Christmas Eve in Palmer Square with them and Christmas Day at Highbury with Antonia and Julia and Randolph. In the many months that he had been away, they had still to receive one letter from him, which did not bode well.
Henrietta sighed as she wrapped up the leather gloves she had bought him and hoped that he could somehow find his own path. Absently, she placed the gift into the basket she had procured to hold all of the gifts, save hers to Clive, which she hid upstairs in her dressing room and which they had agreed to exchange on Christmas Eve night in their own suite of rooms. Henrietta had even had Billings bring up a little tree for their sitting room, and Clive had been genuinely charmed with the homemade snowflake ornaments Henrietta had fashioned from snipping ordinary white paper with a scissors. She had then added the finishing touch, which was a garland made from popcorn and cranberries. The rest of the house was of course dripping in elegant Christmas decorations of gold and silver and holly, with several Christmas trees placed throughout, the largest being the one in the drawing room, where it had been set up and decorated by the staff on the first Sunday of Advent.
The basket also held gifts for the Hennesseys—a new hat for Mrs. Hennessey and a new navy cardigan for Mr. Hennessey, complete with a hamper packed with many goodies and savory treats—some prepared by Mary and some store-bought from Marshall Field’s downtown. Before heading over to the Von Harmon’s for their Christmas Eve gathering, Clive and Henrietta planned to stop off at Poor Pete’s to spend an hour, distributing their gifts to the Hennesseys and perhaps indulging in a glass of Mr. Hennessey’s better sherry—the stuff that rarely came out except at holidays. Henrietta was looking forward to seeing them again, as they had been like her pseudo parents for so long, but if she were honest, a part of her dreaded having to hear about their daughter, Winifred, who had been married these fifteen years and was only now pregnant with her first child! The Hennesseys, having given up hope for a grandchild many years ago, were overjoyed of course and were planning a trip out east in the spring for the happy event, or so Elsie had written to her when she was still in England. Henrietta was glad for them, but she more than once had to fight down a stray feeling or two of self-pity or doubt.
In truth, between the visit to the Hennesseys’ and having to spend the evening with her family, she was not looking forward to much of Christmas Eve at all, despite the fact that she had chastised Clive in bed for feeling the very same way about having to spend Christmas Day in the company of Randolph. Upon closer inspection, she supposed it wasn’t entirely true that she wasn’t looking forward to Christmas Eve—she would certainly enjoy seeing Elsie and the little ones and passing out presents; it was just that one could never predict what Ma or Eugene might say or do. She prayed that if nothing else, they wouldn’t say anything harsh to Clive, who had already been so patient and generous with them, though they never seemed to acknowledge that, much less be grateful to him.
Henrietta took a step back and surveyed her work, her hands on her hips. Not bad for one afternoon, she thought. She was pretty sure she had remembered everyone—everyone except the servants, of course. Henrietta had wanted to get them all something, but Julia informed her that Antonia would see to that and that it wasn’t really her place to give them gifts. “Not even Edna?” she had asked, and then Julia had said that yes, it was acceptable to give one’s lady’s maid a small token. Henrietta had selected a small black handbag for Edna, which she hoped she would like. Unbeknownst to anyone else, however, she planned to tuck a twenty-dollar bill inside it. She smiled to herself as she pulled out the last of the red tissue paper to wrap it, thinking how excited Edna would be to get it. She attached a small red bow and turned it over in her hands, observing it with mild disapproval before setting it in the basket too. Clearly, she was no expert at “wrapping things up” and smiled at the unintentional pun.
She wished she could be of more help to Clive on the case before them regarding Alcott, if it could even be called that, but between helping Elsie and avoiding Antonia, her attention was divided.
She did have a theory, though, that she hadn’t yet dared to pose to Clive. It was just that, well, perhaps his father really had had a mistress. What else had become of the money? She was sure Clive would reject this theory outright, possibly even be offended by it, and privately she had to agree that Alcott did not seem the sort, but then again, everyone was fallible and anything was possible.
Chapter 11
Elsie, her arm wrapped tightly through that of Lloyd Aston’s, walked with fascination through the Pacific Coast Gallery at the Shedd Aquarium. She had never been to the new aquarium, and she was delighted with what she saw, despite the company. Lloyd had punctually arrived at John and Agatha Exley’s mansion in Lake Forest, dressed impeccably, as usual, and had tea with the three of them before escorting Elsie in his Auburn Boattail Speedster all the way to the city, with the understanding that he would return her at the end of their engagement to the house on Palmer Square so that she could study for her “silly test,” as Aunt Agatha had said with a forced sort of chuckle. Elsie had gritted her teeth at this disparaging comment, and several others as well, but thought of little else on the drive down to the city. She had been studying feverishly these last weeks, which had thrown Aunt Agatha definitely out of sorts. Elsie wished she could have returned to Palmer Square for the few days leading up to the big test, where Ma would have left her blissfully alone to either study in one of the many empty rooms or to make her way, unbothered, to the library. Instead she had done the best she could despite Aunt Agatha dragging her out to various functions at what seemed an absurdly desperate pace.
And though Elsie had spent the whole of the drive to the city fretting over the test—as well as having the disagreeable task of having to make small talk with Lloyd Aston—she was admittedly very pleasantly distracted by the wonders she saw all around her now at the Shedd Aquarium, the beautiful art deco metalwork stunning her with its beauty as much as the sea creatures
. Looking at it closely, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Mundelein’s marvelous Skyscraper building. Could they have had the same architect? she wondered, but then quickly chastised herself. Not everything related back to Mundelein, for heaven’s sake!
“Are you bored?” Lloyd asked, startling Elsie from her thoughts. “It’s frightfully dull, isn’t it? Just a bunch of fish swimming around.”
“No, not at all, Mr. Aston—”
“Don’t you think you might call me Lloyd?” he interrupted her.
“Lloyd, then,” she said reluctantly. “I’m not bored at all. It’s lovely. My mind is, well, it’s on other things, perhaps,” she murmured. She again tried to gently withdraw her arm from his, but he held it tightly as he guided her to the next tank.
She wished she could think of something more to say, or that she could be clever in these situations, like Henrietta, but she couldn’t think of anything. Well, actually, she could. Many thoughts and questions were all there in her mind, but she lacked the ability to get them out smoothly. Her responses were generally slow and stuttered, as she often put her words through a sort of mental filter first. She had been doing it since she was a child. It was as if she had to translate everything from one language into another. She had thought about this quite often, actually, especially during her days as she sat sewing in Mr. Dubala’s shop, wondering why she was the way she was and what was potentially wrong with her. She suspected she “had brains,” as Pa had always said, but no one would know it from the way she spoke. Her own theory was that her vocabulary was too big for her own good. She had been reading anything she could get her hands on since she was four years old, when letters had one day magically arranged themselves into words for her. All at once she had somehow been able to read. From that moment on, she began to read voraciously, starting with the Bible, the only book they owned. Words had begun to collect in her mind, and stayed, almost unbeknownst to her. It wasn’t until she got to school that she realized her way of speaking was foreign to other kids her age, and she began to be teased mercilessly as a know-it-all and a smarty-pants. This horrified poor Elsie, who sought only to blend into the background and learn, not to be singled out in any way for special attention, even by a teacher. She had thus quickly realized that in order to avoid unwanted attention, she needed to curb her use of words and had consequently formulated a rudimentary system in which she translated “big words” into normal, common, everyday speech. But it was not a perfect system in that it took longer than it should have, which meant that usually the person talking to her assumed she had nothing at all to say or that she was merely stupid and would quickly talk over her. On most occasions, she did not have the energy or the courage to correct their first impressions. What did it matter what anyone thought of her, anyway?
“Here’s a good one,” Lloyd was saying now, reading the dark-bronze plaque on the wall next to a large tank. “Apparently called a ‘piranha.’ Says it can devour whatever is in its path in a matter of moments. I say, that’s impressive. Look at those teeth.”
Elsie peered into the murky water and spotted the fish, sitting on the bottom of the tank as if in wait for something to swim by, its razor-sharp teeth jutting out from its lower jaw. It looked fierce and had an almost cunning look to it.
“It’s horrible,” Elsie finally said, stepping back.
Lloyd grinned. “Let’s try the next one,” he said, leading her to the adjoining room, which was labeled South America. Again, they aimlessly wandered from tank to tank until they came upon a particularly large one filled with what looked like a variety of fish. Elsie read the plaque and discovered that it was a tank representing the Amazon. Eagerly she peered in and was amazed at the silvery flashes of scales darting past, some of them thrillingly close to the glass. She tried to look past them after a few moments to the rocks at the back, where she could make out some creatures hiding in crevices. She wished Donny and Doris could see this. Why had she never thought to take them?
She bent to get a better look and was startled when she suddenly felt Lloyd’s hand on her lower back. Her whole body stiffened, and she could not help but let out a little gasp when she felt it travel lower to her behind. Quickly she stood up straight and took a step back, looking around the gallery. To her surprise, she found that they were all alone. Indeed, it was late when they had arrived, and as they were making their way from gallery to gallery, they were met with crowds going in the opposite direction, slowly moving toward the exits now that it was so close to closing time. They were like fish themselves, swimming upstream.
Elsie worriedly observed that there was no one left in this particular gallery except a guard at the other doorway. She caught his eye, but he just grinned at Lloyd instead and turned his back to them. She felt a resultant, unexplainable sense of panic, though she tried to tell herself that she was being irrational. After all, what could possibly happen in so public a place? As if in answer, Lloyd stepped toward her and swiftly kissed her, pressing her up against the glass as he did so.
Disgust and then real panic coursed through her, and she pushed him away. “Stop!” she managed to say in a voice louder than she had intended. Horrible memories of Harrison flooded her mind, and she found it difficult to breathe.
“Come now, Elsie. You don’t have to play the nice girl with me,” Lloyd said, amused. “I thought you were all for a spot of fun. Been a little bit naughty is what I’ve heard, and I like that.”
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, I think you do. Though you play the innocent charmingly well. Part of the ruse, I imagine. Come on,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. “I’ve got a penthouse near here. I know you want to,” he said, kissing her again, harder this time.
Desperate, Elsie balled her hands into fists and pushed at his chest with all her might. “How dare you!” she whispered fiercely, when her lips finally broke free of his.
Lloyd hovered dangerously near her for several moments, his face clouded with anger as if considering his next move. Mercifully, he stepped back. “Fine,” he growled, “be that way.” He looked down at her as he adjusted his tie. “I’m surprised at you, really,” he said, coolly. “The plain ones are usually more willing to play along.”
Elsie, her face flushed, felt she might cry at his stinging words and bit her lip. “I’d like to go home now.”
“You can’t be serious, my dear. We’ve only just arrived,” Lloyd said incredulously.
Elsie was herself incredulous that he assumed she would still want to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with him as if nothing had happened.
“I’m . . . I’m not well. Please,” she said looking up into his face.
“Listen, Elsie,” he said brusquely, “I’m not a bit serious as regards any sort of future with you, and I daresay you feel the same. But if we are to be thrown together in this way from time to time, we might make the most of it, you know.”
Elsie was so stunned by this admission that she couldn’t think of a single thing to say in return.
Lloyd continued to stare at her expectantly and then let out a sigh. “Very well, I’ll drive you home.”
“I . . . I could take the trolley,” Elsie suggested, actually feeling sick to her stomach. “I think I’d prefer it, actually.”
“Oh, no you don’t. That would never do,” he said bitterly. “I’d never hear the end of it. No, I’ll take you.”
Elsie stared at him with a mix of fear and hatred, wondering how she could escape from him. “If you insist,” she managed finally. “But I want you to take me to Mundelein College. I’d . . . I have some things to do there before I go home.”
She fully expected him to refuse, but instead he just shrugged. “I don’t care where I take you, so long as I can be rid of you for the evening,” he drawled. “You’re hopelessly dull, do you know that?”
Elsie bit back her tears on the ride north, having to first direct him to drive up Sheridan Road to Rogers Park, as
he claimed he had never heard of Mundelein College before, though she knew she had mentioned it to him at the Exley’s ball. She didn’t know why she had asked him to take her to Mundelein, but the thought of returning to the cold house on Palmer Square filled her with melancholy and even a bit of panic. She couldn’t face Ma right now, or even worse, an empty front parlor and hoped that . . . well, she didn’t know what she hoped for in going to Mundelein. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to find Sr. Bernard, but as they got closer, her desire to find and talk to her mentor overwhelmed her.
Elsie sat as far as possible from Lloyd, planting herself practically up against the door, and was grateful that he remained silent, even though it was horribly uncomfortable. A light snow had fallen while they had been in the aquarium, which seemed a strange contrast to the tropical waters they had just observed. Normally Elsie would have relished the snow, but at the moment she was in no mood to enjoy it. Finally, she saw the college ahead and breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s just there,” she said, pointing to Philomena Hall as Lloyd pulled into the circle.
“This it?” he asked, peering out the window.
Elsie wanted nothing more but to flee from the car now that she was so close. She put her hand on the door handle to get out, but before she could open it, Lloyd reached across and held her arm back. His face was very close to hers, and he remained there as she tried to push herself as far back into the seat as possible before he finally slid back. He looked at her with a grin.
“What do you take me for, Elsie? I’ll get the door for you.” He got out then, a blast of cold air coming in as he did so. Elsie tried to control her breathing as she obediently sat in her seat and waited as he slowly strode around the back of the car.