One of Lathan’s friends put a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like a little attention yourself?”
“No, thank you.” Charlotte shrank back and wondered if she could get out of line after all.
No. Finish with Lathan and be done with it.
They were at the front of the line now. The next car that swung down onto the platform would be theirs. As Charlotte tilted her head back to look at the towering wheel, dizziness overcame her, and she was not certain her legs would support her when the moment came to step into the car. Silently she hoped to lurch toward one of the chairs.
Finally the car swung into place. Lathan, with his arm around the woman’s shoulders, sauntered aboard, followed by his two friends. Charlotte tentatively stepped off the solid platform and onto the car, falling almost immediately into one of the twisted wire chairs and not caring that she heard Lathan laughing at her as he positioned himself in front of one of the plate glass windows. The car filled with people, and Lathan drifted to the far end of the car.
Once the car was loaded, it swung up the arc of the wheel and dangled in the air while another loaded beneath it. Gripping the sides of her chair, Charlotte peered between the passengers in her own car and got a glimpse of the Midway exhibits on the ground. She was grateful, though, not to be nearer the plate glass where she might see for herself the distance to the ground.
Fully loaded now, the wheel began to turn.
Nine minutes, Charlotte thought, and this can all be over. He can be gone for good.
So far, after insisting she come with him, Lathan was ignoring her. Charlotte was glad for the crowd. Lathan would not take extreme action with so many people around. But she only had nine minutes. She could not afford to waste them letting him watch her grip her chair in fear while he sneered from the other end of the car. Blowing out her breath, Charlotte forced herself to her feet, refused to look down, and moved one uncertain step at a time to where Lathan was once again kissing the woman in the blue dress.
“Ah, so you have decided to join us.” He stepped away from the woman and moved uncomfortably close to Charlotte.
“You said yourself we had unfinished business.” Charlotte refused to step back from his glare.
“And so we do. Where is it?” He leaned in and gripped her shoulder in one large hand.
It. He sounded just like Sarah, not even able to acknowledge that his son was a living, breathing human being. Charlotte said nothing.
“Where is it?” he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “No one else knew about that hiding place.”
Hiding place? He’s not talking about Henry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lathan.”
“There was a lot of money in that jar,” Lathan said, “and I want it back.”
Charlotte gasped. “This is about money? You want money?”
“What else would I want from you?” he said. “I took what I wanted from you a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you steal from me. Give me the money, or I swear I’ll never let you have a moment’s peace.”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to laugh. “I haven’t got any money! If I had any of your bootleg stash, do you think I would be working as a domestic on Prairie Avenue?”
“I know you found that jar while you were expecting,” he insisted. “It can’t be coincidence that it disappeared the same day you did—while I was conveniently away. I came home and you and the jar were both gone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlotte said again. “It must have been that girl you brought in to help with the work around the house when I was close to my time.”
He still had not asked about the baby. Was it possible he did not care?
“We both know that girl was useless.”
“Did you ask her?” Charlotte asked.
“She told me she didn’t know where you went.”
“I mean, did you ask her about the missing money?”
“You took it.”
“No, Lathan, I did not take your money. I took a quilt, my grandmother’s Bible, and the baby.”
“Yes, the girl told me you gave birth. What was it?”
“Do you even care?”
He shrugged. “Not really. Your parents might like to know.”
It was a boy and his name is Henry! she wanted to scream. But she did not. Lathan didn’t care about his own child. He didn’t deserve to know his name.
“Let me go, Lathan. I don’t have your money,” Charlotte said evenly. “It looks like that girl was not as stupid as you thought.”
“Look, we’re at the top!” The woman in the blue dress tugged on Lathan’s arm, and he released Charlotte.
Lathan’s eyes were ice. “Don’t miss the view. It’s spectacular.”
“Are you finished talking business?” the woman asked.
Charlotte willed herself not to blink as she searched Lathan’s face for the answer.
“Yes,” he finally said. “We’re done.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing between you and this girl?” the woman asked.
Lathan smiled. “No, nothing between us.”
He did not look over his shoulder as he walked away from Charlotte.
The seats were full. Charlotte had no recourse but to grip a railing and remain upright. The car was making its descent now. Charlotte focused on breathing evenly and awaiting the sensation of solid ground.
Lathan’s words echoed in her head.
Then it worked out nicely that I never had a wife.
No, nothing between us.
The woman had called him her fiancé. Was he really planning to marry her—and was he free to do so?
One by one the cars unloaded and reloaded. At the platform, Lathan and his friends got off and walked across the platform. He never looked back.
Had she been afraid all this time for nothing? Was he ever her husband?
Had she given away her son needlessly?
28
W hen Archie emerged from Cairo Street—kicking himself for once again guessing wrong—he determined he needed a new plan. He would stay on the Midway, visible and vigilant. His livery would make him easy to spot, and he prayed Charlotte would welcome the sight, not turn from his help if she saw him. As urgent as the impulse was to find her, he could not chase after every random swish of gray. Charlotte could be anywhere on the Midway—if she was even there at all—so Archie resolved to walk at a pace that would allow him both to cover ground quickly and to examine the pedestrian traffic thoroughly.
Archie strode past German Village while at the same time scrutinizing the entrances and exits to Turkish Village across the way. He continued on toward the Japanese and Irish exhibits. At the Hagenbeck Animal Show, he remembered Henry’s glee at the sight. At the Libby Glass Company display he wished he could take Charlotte inside and buy her whatever she considered most beautiful. He paced the entire length of the Midway until finally he was at the entrance to the grand Court of Honor and the fair itself—and there he halted. If he had not been able to find Charlotte in the one-mile stretch of the Midway Plaisance, he had little hope of stumbling upon her somewhere in the six hundred acres of the exhibition. Intuitively he did not believe she had entered the fair. The Midway had been the focus of her anxiety when she confessed to him she had seen her husband.
Archie paused to pull out a watch and examine the time. This was Charlotte’s day off, but it was not his. No one on Prairie Avenue would be looking for Charlotte for several more hours, but no doubt Mr. Penard was already pacing the kitchen, awaiting his coachman. By now Archie had missed the staff supper, and Mr. Penard would have discovered that Archie dispatched Karl to pick up Richard from school and Mr. Banning from his office rather than making the late afternoon rounds himself. With the slow progress of congested streetcars at this time of day, it seemed doubtful Archie would return to Prairie Avenue in time to help serve the family dinner.
He stood in the middle of the Midway and sighed. The Ferris whee
l beckoned, as it always did, but from this distance, the passengers were specks.
Charlotte, where are you? I want to help you.
Archie resumed his slow round of the Midway exhibits, working his way back toward the wheel and the Cottage Grove Avenue entrance. He searched to the point of staring into the face of every young man on the Midway, lamenting that he did not have even a general description of the husband Charlotte might be searching for. He could be walking right past the man and never know it.
By now the electric lights illuminating the fair and the Midway had come on, casting a counterfeit gladness over the scene.
Archie had to admit he had failed in his quest.
Archie slipped into the kitchen, ready to endure Penard’s verbal thrashing. Dinner was over, and Sarah was scrubbing pots. The door from the kitchen to the butler’s pantry was propped open, and Mr. Penard was carefully washing china and replacing the pieces in the cabinets.
Mr. Penard looked up when he saw Archie and immediately withdrew his hands from the soapy water and dried them. Archie planted himself in the middle of the kitchen and awaited the inevitable barrage.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Archie,” Penard said.
“He went chasing after Charlotte,” Sarah said from the kitchen sink.
“This has nothing to do with you.” In Mr. Penard’s chastisement of Sarah, Archie heard the prelude to the stiff scolding no doubt coming his way.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just trying to help.”
“Is what the girl says true?” Mr. Penard probed.
Archie could hardly tell him the whole story. He chose his words carefully. “I was concerned Charlotte might require assistance.”
“Charlotte has the day off. If she requires assistance, she has to find it on her own. Your responsibility was here.” Penard was unmoving.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Archie hoped that appearing contrite would diffuse the tension. He kept his eyes lowered. Penard would rail for a few minutes, then it would be over.
“You blatantly abandoned your post without permission and without justification,” Penard continued.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your recent absences have not gone unnoticed, Archie. You have developed a pattern of being away from the house for lengths of time for which you cannot account, and this is the last straw.”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”
“No, it won’t, because you are no longer in the employ of the Bannings.”
Archie’s eyes widened and he looked the butler full in the face. “Has Mr. Banning dismissed me?”
“I am dismissing you,” Penard bellowed. “Your anarchist associations are a threat to the order of the household.”
“I have no anarchist associations—”
Penard waved him off. “Do not try to justify your actions. I had hoped that promoting you to coachman would make you more serious about your service in this household, but it’s clear I was mistaken. Instead you have chosen to associate yourself with the likes of men who threw a bomb into Haymarket Square.”
“I have done no such thing!” Archie protested. “Besides, nothing was ever proven. The governor himself pardoned those men.”
“The governor has anarchist leanings as well,” Penard countered. “I will not have anyone in my employ perpetuating these misconceptions and influencing the rest of the staff.”
“Mr. Penard, I assure you—”
“Pack your things and go, Archie. You will leave the Banning house tonight. Your final wages are on the table.”
Archie pulled the heavy coach house door closed behind him and put the latch down. Karl sprang from the stool where he sat polishing his boots, his eyebrows lifted in question.
“I’m out,” Archie said, “immediately.”
“What possessed you to—”
Archie lifted one hand, palm out. “Don’t, Karl. I can’t explain it to you, but I would do the same thing again.”
“Where will you go?” Karl asked.
Archie shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s determined that I go tonight. I wouldn’t put it past him to come out here and make sure I’m gone.” He shuffled toward the tightly spiraled iron stairs that rose to the loft where the coachmen slept. “I have to gather my things.”
He did not have much. Three years of service at the Banning residence had yielded a secure place to sleep, regular nourishment, uniforms he would have to leave behind, and little else. Archie owned one pair of thin-soled boots that were not part of a uniform, one set of clothes, and a jacket that might be passed off as a suit coat in poor light. He had a handful of books that bore witness to how he was inclined to spend what little extra cash he acquired. The coins that jingled in his pocket would not take him far.
From the loft, as he gathered his things into a gunnysack, Archie looked down at the gleaming carriages he had driven for the last three years. For part of that time, his duties as footman included general maintenance tasks inside the house, but for the last year, the coach house had been his domain. The Bannings had two enclosed four-wheel carriages, one larger than the other. Archie had spent countless hours shivering in an exposed driver’s seat as the family sat under the warmth of rugs inside the carriages. Two open carriages were used only in the summer. The comings and goings of the family required careful coordination to ensure a carriage was available at every appointed hour. Archie and Karl spent evenings polishing carriages and oiling reins so that equipment was ready at any moment of the day or night. Since he had become head coachman, Archie also inspected the stable of horses every night to be sure at least one pair was always ready for service, and scrutinized reins and harnesses to ensure safety at all times.
He would not miss this. He would get a real job, one that gave him something to show for himself.
But he would miss seeing Charlotte every day. And now he would not even have a chance to say good-bye. He hated to consider what she would think when she found him gone.
Sarah hovered at the female servants’ entrance, knowing Archie would have to emerge from the coach house eventually. She almost did not recognize him out of uniform. Instead of the blue and yellow livery he wore for driving or the white formal wear he donned for dinner service, he moved in the shadows, wearing brown trousers, a shirt of indistinguishable color—perhaps once white—and a brown jacket. He carried a gunnysack over his shoulder, but the bulge was small.
She stepped into his path. He slowed his steps and looked at her but did not speak.
“Archie,” Sarah said. “I . . . well, I . . .”
“You what?” Archie said harshly. “I heard you tell Mr. Penard I went chasing after Charlotte. That was none of your business.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“You’re always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong without thought to the consequences.”
Sarah straightened her shoulders. “I was going to say I’m sorry, but I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“You? Say you’re sorry?” Archie laughed. “You don’t care about another living thing but yourself. You’ve never been sorry in your life.”
“You’ve only known me a couple of months. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Archie shifted his sack to the other shoulder. “Look, I have to find a place to stay tonight. I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you.” He tried to step past her, but she moved into his path again.
“I don’t want to argue, either,” Sarah said. “I . . . may have said some things that led Mr. Penard to think . . .”
“This anarchist business—that came from you?” Archie said.
“It may have.”
“And now you want me to believe you’re sorry.”
She shrugged. “Believe what you want. I never meant for this to happen, but if you ask me, it’s a good thing.”
“Losing my position and having nowhere to live is a good thing?”
She nodded. “This is your chance, Archie.
Charlotte may be perfectly happy in service, but you don’t want that life any more than I do. I see it in your eyes every day.”
“That hardly makes me an anarchist.”
“You may not have chosen this, but you’re getting out.”
In the shadows she could barely see his features, but his presence reminded her of the young man her father had once been. She had been a little girl in those days, and her memories were as gray and drab as the night around her now, but her father had aspired to a better life. He had not settled, and neither would she.
“I have to go,” Archie said.
Sarah stepped out of his way.
29
C harlotte’s feet clicked along beneath the streetlights of Prairie Avenue, then she cut alongside the Banning house to the coach house. She did not want to encounter anyone else. She only wanted Archie.
The door was latched from the inside, but she paused only briefly before rapping her fingers against the wood. The dinner hour was over, but it was not so late that Archie would have gone to bed.
“Archie!” She did not dare use full voice. “I need to talk to you!”
When she heard no answer, she knocked again. Finally she heard movement from within. Karl pulled open the door and beckoned her in.
“Where’s Archie?” she asked. “I was hoping to speak to him before he turned in.”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been in the house yet, have you?”
“No, I came here first,” Charlotte said. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Penard dismissed Archie tonight and insisted he take his things and leave immediately.”
Charlotte’s stomach sank. “Why would Mr. Penard do that?”
“Archie went missing one time too many. He was gone most of the afternoon and missed the family’s dinner.”
Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow, The Page 20