by Pamela Pope
Max departed, knowing he had made the second gravest mistake of his life. He strode back along Prairie Avenue with the crisp winter air filling his lungs, but it was not through fear he decided to honour her wishes. His innocence over Oliver’s death made him immune to her threats. He would stay away from her now because he had discovered the only truth which mattered. He loved her. For the first time he admitted it, and in loving her he found he had to put her feelings before his own.
*
It was not long before Ellie tired of the everlasting round of frivolous activities which filled the lives of other women of her class and age. She was in a difficult position, being neither spinster nor widow, yet without a man at her side. There were some who began to resent her, or saw her as a threat to their own marriages since husbands tended to think she was available and gave her too much attention. Not that Ellie wanted it. She had to be discouraging to the point of rudeness at times, and frequently refused invitations in order to avoid the problem. Jefferson was happy to escort her on occasions, but more and more often she preferred to stay at home.
She was disillusioned with the lives her contemporaries led because she saw the shallowness. Having shared poverty and suffering in Pullman City she knew how degrading it could be, and how terrible when there seemed to be no way to get free of the downward spiral. She had shared Grandfather Cromer’s degradation when there was no money left to pay off debts, or even to buy food. Her understanding of poverty made her impatient with the extravagance of her wealthy friends, and she no longer had time for their petty jealousies.
But there was more to it than that. At first after Max’s visit she had thrown herself into the social whirl with all her energy, becoming the talk of fashion writers and gossip columnists. She had attended every function, every party, and was seen at every important occasion in the Chicago calendar, until she was exhausted. None of it could erase Max from her mind.
He hadn’t come to see her again before leaving for England with Galina after the Christmas of 1897. The cheque he had insisted was hers remained in the envelope for several weeks while she considered returning it, but after a long talk with her mother it had been invested, to be kept for William’s education.
In the spring of 1898 Ellie received the first of many letters from Max.
‘Ellie, I swear again I had nothing to do with Oliver’s death. Believe me, because it is the truth. You asked me not to visit you again in Chicago and I respected your wishes, though I longed to be with you,’ he wrote.
‘Momma blames me for William’s baptism into the Catholic Church. She is full of pain. Naturally you chose your own faith for him in my absence, but when he is old enough he must decide for himself. All I ask is that you remind him as he grows that he is half-Jewish.
‘Ellie, I implore you to come to Southampton. Galina needs a mother, not a nanny. We should be a family, and I offer you everything I have if we can just be together.’
It was a long letter, deeply remorseful yet flawed. Ellie read it over and over, trying to understand why it offended her. The truth came when she realised his aims were selfish. Basically, he wanted a reconciliation to salve his conscience and to make his own life more comfortable. Nowhere did he express a desire to do anything for her sake, or ask what would make her happy — but arrogantly assumed that she ought to absolve him from his sins and agree to his proposals. She could not do either.
She wrote back to him. ‘It seems you are putting Galina and her needs before your son. Even if I was tempted to consider your offer, which I most certainly am not, I would have to think first of William. He is settled here now and I wouldn’t uproot him. I made my feelings quite clear — my threat was not an idle one. If ever you attempt to force yourself upon us I shall inform the English authorities of my suspicions’
She was ashamed of the threat. She didn’t doubt his innocence in the Devlin affair, but maintaining the pretence gave her a weapon to keep him at bay.
She hoped there would be no more correspondence. She wanted to forget him, but memories of the way he had kissed her tortured her mind and inflamed her body. Had he held her with such passion just a few seconds longer that evening she would have been lost, and they might well have been reunited, purely to gratify their sexual needs. That wasn’t what she wanted at all. It would have been wrong, and against all her principles. Only love could change things. If he had said he loved her she could perhaps have forgiven him and smoothed the path to a new beginning, but love which was one-sided would inevitably lead to a repeat of the past, and that was no basis on which to build. In spite of all her harsh words, she did still love him. All it would have taken to reverse her protestations would have been for Max to admit the same. If he had done that they could have been together now.
Sadly, Hedda Berman died suddenly of pneumonia in the spring. It meant severance of all connection with the family, since Ellie hardly knew Max’s brother, and William became a Harvey in every way.
There being no solace in frivolity, and even less in dwelling on Max, she wanted to do something more useful with her life, but could find no worthwhile occupation until she was introduced to someone with similar feelings. That summer she met a lady by the name of Mrs Ursula Fenden.
‘My dear, we could do with you at Hull House,’ Mrs Fenden said. ‘We need all the help we can get, and believe me it’s very rewarding.’
Ellie had heard of the place. It was a charitable settlement on South Halstead Street, one of the lowest areas of Chicago, established in 1889 by two ladies named Jane Addams and Ellen Gates Starr. They had originally intended the house to be simply a community service project, but with many willing helpers it had gradually become a shelter for the destitute, the homeless and the abused, a place where the sick could be cared for, and children could be protected.
‘I wouldn’t know what to do,’ Ellie protested.
‘You would soon find out.’ Mrs Fenden had a wonderful enthusiasm for everything, which would carry her through into old age still looking younger than her years. ‘Mrs Berman, forgive me, I know you are living apart from your husband. My own situation is somewhat the same. My husband is in a mental institution.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t tell everyone, of course, but I feel we have much in common. It would be so nice if we could work together.’
‘I really believe it would,’ agreed Ellie.
So, armed with her own experiences she went to Hull House and offered herself in the service of those less fortunate. She was received joyously, and quickly became one of the women who gave unstintingly of their time and resources. There was so much to be done, the days were not long enough. At the beginning she helped to teach English to the multi-racial population crowding close to its doors, but there was more satisfaction in caring for the sick, and Ellie was soon rolling up her sleeves and tying an apron around her waist to do the most menial tasks.
‘You spend more time at that hostel than you do at home,’ grumbled Mama, who had been against her going there from the start. ‘Goodness knows what infections you might bring back. You should have more consideration for William.’
‘William is strong, and so am I. I’m not afraid of illness. I love doing nursing.’
In fact, Ellie seemed to have a natural vocation for it, and as the months passed her interest in all things medical took priority over her drawing and painting. By learning how to care for the disabled and understand a little about mental illness she was able to help many people. Those whom she nursed and counselled began to call her ‘Sister Ellie’, and she was very contented working with the immigrant families. She enjoyed being with these people because she was reminded of the early days of her marriage when she’d been so happy with Max.
More letters came from him. In the first he spoke of his grief at losing his mother, and his regret that he’d been too far away to attend her funeral. In the next he offered to sell out Galina’s share of Court Carriages if it would m
ake any difference.
‘I know I said I would work to protect Galina’s inheritance, but if it is standing between us then I am willing to sell her interests in the company and bring her back to the States,’ he wrote. Then, on an impatient note: ‘You accuse me of putting my niece before my son. May I remind you it was your decision to forbid me any contact with William. The remedy is for us to be together, then I can be a proper father to him.’
Ellie’s reply kept up the antagonism. It was difficult to carry on a row on paper, especially when letters took so many weeks to reach their destination, but she was not going to let him get away with placing blame in her corner.
‘Selling the company would make no difference whatsoever to our relationship,’ she told him, pressing so hard on the hand-made writing paper the nib made indentations through to the next page. ‘Rightfully, those shares in Court Carriages should belong to William since they were bought with my money. Your sins were the cause of his loss, but I will keep the truth from him for as long as I can — for his sake, not yours.’
By return of post came an indignant response. ‘Are you forgetting I reimbursed the money Oliver embezzled so I am no longer in your debt, or William’s.’ There was much in the same vein. Then he made another appeal. ‘Tell me what I can do to put things right between us. I have pleaded with you for forgiveness. I have told you repeatedly how much I regret what I did to hurt you. I have offered to give you everything I have. What else is there I can say or do? What is it you want, Ellie?’
The only word which could have altered Ellie’s determination to stand firm was never used. Love. If he had said that he loved her she would not have written her final reply.
‘I want you to stay out of my life forever.’
Nineteen
One of the most surprising friendships within the family sprang up between Sir Robert Cromer and Jefferson. The youngest of the Harveys practically usurped Ellie’s place in their grandfather’s affection, and Jefferson found an unlikely ally for his theatre work in the old man from England whom no one had known about before Ellie’s defection. Grandfather Cromer developed a great love for the theatre. He would go to see everything, be it opera, ballet, an orchestra, or a play, and the lighter the production the more he enjoyed it.
Just after Christmas 1903, he celebrated his eighty-second birthday, and when asked what he would like more than anything, he chose to see a performance of Mr Bluebeard at the Iroquois Theater.
‘It must be a matinée,’ Mama insisted, when Jefferson said he would get the tickets. ‘Your Grandfather’s chest is troublesome and he mustn’t be out in the cold night air.’
To suit Jefferson the outing was arranged for the afternoon of 30 December, much to William’s disappointment as a prior invitation to a big Christmas party at the home of one of his schoolfriends fell on the same day and he was told it would be ill-mannered not to attend. Ellie couldn’t go at the last minute due to the wintry weather having decimated the staff at Hull House. Nor did the date, or choice of play, suit Sibylla or Conrad, so Jefferson was Sir Robert’s sole companion on that day.
Sir Robert Cromer, wearing his long grey overcoat with the black velvet collar, his kid gloves and his top hat, looked very distinguished as he settled in his seat in the front row of the stalls. He removed the hat as the curtains went up and applauded as loudly as anyone.
The star of the show, Eddie Foy, was giving a remarkable performance in his grotesque costume, and laughter was echoing up to the gallery when an open arc light high up began to splutter dangerously. No one in the audience saw a strip of gauze on the proscenium arch catch fire until a small flame developed and spread to one of the velvet drapes. In horror and sudden panic, everyone in the theatre began to move.
‘Be quiet, please,’ called Eddie Foy, stepping forward. ‘There isn’t any danger.’
He nodded to the orchestra and music temporarily calmed the audience. But burning strips of muslin began to fall on the stage. Jefferson Harvey was torn between looking after his grandfather and rushing to the assistance of Eddie and the rest of the cast who were trying to restore order.
‘Get to the side exit, Grandfather, fast,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve got to help them get the asbestos curtain down. Looks like it’s jammed halfway.’
Jefferson jumped onto the stage. A stampede for the exits started, and Grandfather Cromer put his top hat back on.
‘Come with me,’ he said to some small children nearby who had been separated from their parents and were shrieking with fright.
He took hold of two little hands and pushed along with the fear-crazed crowd as flames billowed out from the orchestra pit. The balcony caught alight. Suddenly, at three-fifteen in the afternoon, the Iroquois Theater was engulfed in flames. Some of the exits had been locked and the fire spread so fiercely and with such terrifying speed that those inside stood little chance of escaping.
After only fifteen minutes it was brought under control, but 596 people had died.
Chicago went into mourning, hardly able to comprehend the terrible tragedy which had struck at the heart of almost every family. In the gutted auditorium it was not even possible to identify some of the victims, but a gold pocket-watch engraved with a presentation date to Sir Robert Cromer was found on a body near one of the locked side exits. Jefferson Harvey escaped with his life, but was so badly burnt he would need many months in hospital.
Ellie was devastated by the loss of Grandfather Cromer. She had loved the old man so much, and memories of the time she had arrived in London kept returning to her mind like a cracked phonograph record. Her grief was greater than her mother’s. Sibylla took a philosophical attitude to her father’s death.
‘It’s the way he would have wanted to go, Ellie,’ she said. ‘He would have hated to be confined to bed with a lingering illness. My father was a man who got the most out of life, and he died while doing something he really enjoyed. I consider it a blessing.’
Ellie had to agree, and took comfort.
*
William made up his mind at an early age that he wanted to be an engineer. Not the kind that his Uncle Drew had been, though he would have liked to ride on the footplate of a locomotive. No, William wanted to do great things like building bridges and roads. He had been very attached to Grandfather Cromer and the old man’s death had left a void in his young life which nothing could fill except ambition to be like him. Grandfather’s tales of the contractors’ heyday in England had fired his imagination, and he wanted to be equally successful.
At sixteen he said: ‘I want to go to Harvard, Mother. I won’t go anywhere else. I’m going to get the best engineering degree I can.’
He didn’t see it as a problem. Ever since he could remember there had been money for anything he wanted and he presumed his mother had independent means. It came as a shock therefore when he overheard his mother and Grandfather Harvey talking about his education in financial terms.
‘So the boy wants to go to Harvard University,’ Conrad was saying. They were in the library and William couldn’t resist listening unobserved. ‘I’m glad. But who will pay, Elena? Are you expecting me to find all the money, since you have none of your own?’
‘Papa, when are you going to let me forget I made a disastrous marriage?’
‘Max Berman should be providing for William. Heaven knows I don’t begrudge the boy a cent, but I do have other grandchildren. I couldn’t keep digging into my pockets for all of them.’
‘No one’s asking you to.’ Mother was the only one who could speak to Grandfather Harvey in such a manner. ‘The others don’t need it anyway. Frederick’s tribe have no worries — he’s richer than you are. And Drew’s daughter is so spoilt she wants for nothing.’
‘I ought to have sent you back to your husband. I was too soft. You married him recklessly and you should have been made to live with the result of that recklessness.’
‘Papa, dearest, you know you were glad when I came home.’ Willi
am watched through the crack in the door and saw his mother reach to kiss Conrad. Her tone was teasing. Then she straightened up. ‘Anyway, I’m not going to ask you for anything. I have the money invested for William’s university education.’
How he loved her. She was the most wonderful mother in the world and he was so proud of her. That lovely voice was like music to his ears and he still remembered how he had fallen asleep as a child to the gentle sound of her reading to him.
‘Money invested? Where did you get it?’ demanded his grandfather.
‘Max left it with me.’
‘You never told me! Was that so you could go on scrounging?’
‘No, Papa. It was because I never intended to touch it. I didn’t want anything from Max, but when he refused to take it back I decided the best policy was to keep the money for William.’
William didn’t stop to hear any more. He rushed out into the garden and down as far as the gazebo, where he retched. After a few minutes he sat on the stone seat to recover and sort out his emotions, thankful that he had discovered what was going on in time. It put paid to his hopes of Harvard, but that was better than finding out later that he was being paid for by his father. He would forfeit everything rather than be in that man’s debt.
His hatred of Max had no actual foundation. It was as if he had been infected with it in infancy and the disease had become chronic. He had never even tried to find a cure. When he’d been old enough to ask questions, his mother had been charitable. She hadn’t actually condemned his father, but she had been evasive, and being a boy with a vivid imagination he had put his own interpretation on her lack of straightforwardness. He didn’t know what Max Berman had done but it was obviously something pretty terrible. His mother was the kindest, most caring person he knew, and she wouldn’t have banished her husband from her life without the best of reasons. As he matured, William decided it must have been a problem with other women. That was what always seemed to go wrong with adult relationships. Bigamy occurred to him, but Mother still called herself Mrs Berman and had never remarried so that notion had been discarded. But there was nothing else bad enough that he could think of.