The Pursuit of Lucy Banning,A Novel (Avenue of Dreams)

by Newport, Olivia

  “Have you been with Daniel in that outfit?” Flora asked.

  Lucy sighed. “Yes, Mother. I had no time to come home and change. It’s a perfectly good suit.”

  “It’s drab and off the rack. It’s a good thing Daniel is as fond of you as he is. I’m surprised he allows you to dress the way you do sometimes.”

  Lucy’s eyes flared but she held her tone. “It’s hardly Daniel’s decision how I dress for an afternoon at the orphanage, is it?”

  “You’re going to be his wife soon. Your appearance will reflect on him.”

  “I promise I’m not going to get married in a gray flannel suit.”

  “Goodness, I should hope not,” Flora said. “Have the two of you settled on a date?”

  Lucy let her gaze drift away casually. “Daniel suggested mid-July.”

  “In the middle of the summer heat! Oh, I don’t know, Lucy.”

  Lucy shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion. We haven’t decided anything.”

  “Perhaps I’ll have a word with his mother. We don’t want to let it become an urgent question.”

  Lucy smiled. Daniel was of course correct that the mothers would have strong opinions. “The only urgent question I’m facing is what to wear for dinner tonight.” She looked from one parent to the other, then took her sulking father’s elbow and turned him around. “Why don’t the two of you relax in the parlor? Perhaps Mrs. Fletcher can have Bessie bring you some refreshment.”

  “I’ll call for her,” Flora said, taking her husband’s other arm.

  “I had hoped Aunt Violet would be here,” Lucy said. “It’s Thursday.”

  “She telephoned this afternoon to say she is otherwise engaged,” her mother explained.

  “Then I hope she’s enjoying herself.” Lucy’s words masked her disappointment. Aunt Violet, where are you when I need you?

  By the time Lucy left her parents in the parlor, Flora was talking about the redecorating that should be done before the wedding. As she turned back toward the stairs, across the foyer Lucy saw movement in the dining room. She paused long enough to see it was the new maid beginning to lay the table for dinner. The girl looked up just long enough to catch Lucy’s eye before busying herself with the china.

  Something’s wrong, Lucy thought, but not what Father thinks.

  5

  She had only a few minutes. The table was set for dinner, the potatoes were peeled and roasting, the uniform was crisply ironed and laid on her bed, and dinner for the family was thirty minutes away. Charlotte gulped down her own meal around the kitchen table with the rest of the servants, an unadorned version of what the family would enjoy, yet more than she had eaten in one sitting—or one day—in over a week. She had been resisting the temptation to admit she was hungry for so long that she hardly knew what to do when presented with platters of steaming food. Charlotte ate heartily but hurriedly, grateful for Mrs. Fletcher’s suggestion that she use the brief interval before serving dinner to unpack her few personal belongings and transfer them to a narrow chest of drawers opposite her bed.

  Charlotte took the stairs quickly, glanced around the hallway upstairs—though she already knew all the servants were downstairs and the family would never come to the servants’ quarters—and ducked into her room. Getting settled was not on Charlotte’s mind. The second carpetbag, left open slightly in a narrow closet, was her focus. The closet, barely wide enough to contain the bag, had only a muslin curtain to separate it from the room that held nothing beyond a bed, the chest of drawers with a chipped washbowl, and a spindly bedside table. A candle rested on the table, no doubt to supplement the dim electric lightbulb in the center of the room. The sparse décor reminded Charlotte she was not expected to do anything but sleep in this room. Three strides took her to the muslin curtain, which she pushed aside to reach into the bag.

  The baby cooed when she picked him up. Charlotte couldn’t help but smile.

  “Oh, you’ve been so good,” she whispered, “such a quiet little baby. How did I get so lucky to have you?”

  He was only three weeks old, but already his eyes seemed to fix on her in recognition and pleasure. Of course, hers was virtually the only face he had ever seen. His birth had been mercifully quick and was over before anyone but one other young woman realized it was happening. Charlotte did not indulge in any lying-in period. There was work to do the day after the birth. And he had come several weeks early, cutting short her planning time for what came next. She had to make rapid adjustments and disappear.

  “Dear little Henry, you must be hungry,” she mouthed hoarsely. “Let’s fill up your little tummy.”

  Sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, Charlotte unbuttoned her dress, then unlaced her corset. She sighed as she felt the milk begin to flow. Henry was already an efficient eater and fed quickly. So far, he was eating and sleeping, eating and sleeping, and blessedly quiet in between. They both had been awake most of the previous three nights, which put Henry in a routine of sleeping most of the daytime hours. Charlotte knew this could not last long, however. She could not go back where she had come from, but she couldn’t possibly keep Henry with her much longer. And she couldn’t keep staying awake all night and working all day.

  She had to find a place to board Henry. She knew that, but it broke her heart to even think of it. How could she possibly leave him? But she couldn’t keep him here, not much longer. The immediate dilemma was that she would not have even a few hours off in the foreseeable future. How was she to find someone to look after Henry under such constraints?

  If she thought of how numerous her problems were, Charlotte would dissolve into despair. So she didn’t think of how numerous her problems were. She concentrated on each moment as it came.

  She had escaped.

  She had found a job.

  For now, Henry was quiet and easy.

  Tomorrow was soon enough to fret about tomorrow’s challenges.

  First she had to get through this night, serving this first dinner to the family, facing the first early morning call.

  Henry was drifting off already. Charlotte brushed his face with a finger to rouse him and shifted him to the other side. He had to be full enough to sleep through the time it would take to serve dinner and clean up. Mrs. Fletcher seemed kind enough despite a brusque manner, and while the admonishment in the foyer had rattled her, Penard did not truly frighten Charlotte. He was nothing compared to what she’d left behind. Nevertheless, she wanted to please Mr. Penard and Mrs. Fletcher when she served dinner for the first time.

  The baby was full. By the time Charlotte changed him and sorted out what to do with his wet diaper, he was asleep again. Gently, she laid him on the quilt that cushioned the bottom of the carpetbag. Her grandmother had made that quilt twenty years ago when Charlotte was a newborn herself. It was the only thing—other than Henry and her grandmother’s Bible—that she’d brought from home.

  Home. Could she even call it that?

  A knock on her door made Charlotte gasp and she glanced at Henry, her form still crouched over him and her dress undone. When she heard the doorknob turn, she straightened abruptly and stared wide-eyed while fingering her buttons.

  “Mrs. Fletcher wants you.” It was Bessie, the parlor maid.

  “Yes, of course, I’ll be down in a moment,” Charlotte answered.

  “I rather think she means right now.”

  “Shouldn’t I put my apron on first?” Charlotte snatched the apron off the bed and stood in front of the closet as she put her arms through the holes.

  Bessie chuckled. “She’ll be wondering what you’ve been doing all this time. You’re not going lazy your first day on the job, are you?”

  “She sent me up here to get settled—”

  “And now she wants you back. It’s been nearly thirty minutes!”

  “I hadn’t realized.” Charlotte fussed with the lace collar on her apron as if to spread it more evenly. “Of course I’ll be right there.”

  Bessie pivoted,
and Charlotte listened to her steps clumping down the hallway as she let out her own breath. After one more reassuring look at the slumbering baby, she made her way down the stairs and presented herself to Mrs. Fletcher.

  Lucy shed the gray flannel suit in favor of an ivory silk gown printed with delicate blue tulips, which Elsie had come to button up the back. The sleeves came three-quarters of the way down her arms and culminated in gathered lace elegant for any occasion. It would certainly do for dinner. Occasionally Lucy longed for her younger years when she ate with Nanny in the nursery and the evening meal was not such a production. Nanny had left them the year before. Now that Richard spent his days in school and was old enough to come to the formal table and sit in the parlor in the evenings, Nanny decided to retire and live with her sister and brother-in-law. Although Lucy hadn’t needed Nanny’s services for years, she still missed her. Other than Aunt Violet, Nanny had been the only one who looked at Lucy as if she were a real person.

  Her stomach registered its protest again. At lunch, Lucy had overheard her mother approve the dinner menu: watercress soup, roast pork and potatoes, baby carrots, cranberry-walnut salad, and baked apples. Lucy had to admit it sounded appealing.

  Lucy thought about calling Elsie again to come tidy her hair and pin it up more securely for the evening, but just as she reached for the annunciator button, she decided to attempt the task herself. There was no time to wait for Elsie—it was nearly eight. She had consumed the time she should have spent primping by devouring a chapter in her art history textbook, and now she was compelled to hurry. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she concluded her hair was far from a disaster and simply needed some gentle redirection. Lucy stabbed a couple of pins against her scalp, pinched her cheeks pink, and stepped out into the hall. Her mother did not take it well when family members were late for dinner.

  Outside her room, Lucy caught the swish of black and white at the end of the hall on the servants’ staircase as someone moved from the third floor to the second floor and down toward the kitchen. The door from the family quarters to the staircase was not supposed to be standing open. If Penard discovered it, someone would get a verbal thrashing. Lucy took a few steps to close the door herself, and as she did, glimpsed the back of the new maid hurrying down to the kitchen.

  What had Penard said her name was? Charlotte? Yes, that was it. The girl had blanched at Samuel Banning’s insinuations two hours ago. Even though Lucy thought her father’s accusations unfounded, she felt an unsettling breeze about the new kitchen maid.

  “Show time,” she told herself. Lucy glided to the other end of the hall and descended the marble steps with her best finishing school posture and polish.

  6

  Lucy put a smile on her face as she entered the parlor, expecting to see her parents seated in their favorite floral-patterned William Morris side chairs awaiting word that dinner was served. Instead she stared into the welcoming blue eyes of Will Edwards as he stood in front of the oak bookcase with glass doors.

  “Mr. Edwards! How nice to see you.” Lucy resisted the impulse to reach up and press a stray curl on Will’s forehead into place, wondering nevertheless what his skin felt like. Where did that come from? Stop it!

  “Likewise, Miss Banning.”

  Refusing to blush, Lucy turned to Leo and gave him the sort of look a little sister gives her brother.

  Leo grinned. “You said Daniel was not coming for dinner. I thought it was foolish to let the extra table setting go to waste.”

  Lucy nodded at Will. “Of course I’m delighted you could come to share our meal, Mr. Edwards. I hope Leo has given you fair warning about the eccentricities of the family.”

  “If his sister is any indication, I am sure to be in for a treat.” His cheek dimpled when he smiled.

  Lucy wished she had rung for help with her hair after all. Her gown swished as she crossed the room and sat on the settee.

  “I look forward to our dinner conversation,” Lucy said. “It’s time we had a fresh voice at our table.”

  Leo jumped in. “Will has some entertaining stories, but I’ve paid him well to rearrange his memory to remove me from them.”

  Both Will and Lucy laughed.

  “I would imagine your sister has some Leo stories of her own,” Will said. “As I recall, you were already an accomplished prankster when you arrived in Princeton.”

  “Ask me sometime about the lake house and the summer Leo was twelve.” Lucy smiled slyly.

  “No!” Leo said, laughing himself now. “You will not tell that story.”

  “We shall have to find a moment alone,” Will said, “so you can fill me in on the details of the lake house and the summer Leo was twelve.”

  Now the blush overcame Lucy’s willpower, and Will too seemed to retreat momentarily. But in a few seconds Lucy was laughing again.

  “What’s so funny?” said a voice from the arched doorway.

  Lucy looked up to see her parents entering the room. She glanced at Will.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “Mother, Father, I wonder if you’ve met Leo’s friend, Mr. Will Edwards.”

  Flora Banning glided across the room and shook Will’s hand, simultaneously giving Leo a questioning look.

  “Will is a friend of mine from Princeton,” Leo said.

  “We’re always delighted to meet a Princeton man,” Flora said.

  “I’m pleased to meet you also, Mrs. Banning,” Will said. “Actually, I—”

  Leo cut him off, which made Lucy chuckle again. “Oh, Mother, let’s not go picking at all the Princeton connections,” Leo said.

  “Will is new to Chicago and Leo thought he could use a good meal,” Lucy added.

  “Of course, Leo’s friends are always welcome.” Flora’s eyes continued to inspect her unexpected guest.

  Samuel Banning failed to take the hint. “Did you graduate with Leo?” he asked.

  Will took in a breath as if to answer, but it was Leo who spoke. “Will wasn’t in my class. I imagine dinner must be ready. I wonder where Oliver is.”

  “I’m right here.” Oliver, the tallest of the Banning sons by several inches, stood in the doorway with fourteen-year-old Richard right behind him.

  The grandfather clock in the foyer began the sonorous process of striking eight as Leo introduced Will to his brothers. Momentarily, Penard appeared, bowed slightly, and announced dinner was served. Samuel indicated that his wife and daughter should lead the procession to the dining room, and Flora put her arm through Lucy’s.

  In the hall, Flora leaned in and whispered, “Lucy, dear, I’m not entirely sure who this friend of Leo’s is, but it seems unseemly that you should be laughing with him.”

  “What are you talking about, Mother?”

  “You might think me an old biddy, but I saw the way you looked at Mr. Edwards.”

  Heat rose in Lucy’s neck. “We were merely teasing Leo. I’ve done nothing untoward.”

  “I can’t help but think you would behave differently if Daniel were here tonight.”

  Laughter escaped Lucy’s lips. “I assure you, Daniel knows all the old stories about Leo. He features prominently in most of them.”

  “Nevertheless, I feel I must remind you that you are an engaged woman.”

  At the double pocket doors leading to the dining room, Lucy disengaged from her mother and walked around the lavish table to her usual spot. She gestured to the chair next to hers. “Mr. Edwards, the extra seat to which my brother referred is here. Perhaps you would be so kind.”

  The centerpiece featured six ivory candles in gold candlesticks, three at each end of the table, linked by a copper-leafed vine. A dark blue damask tablecloth underlay ivory dishes with scalloped edges and delicate painted blue-flowered trim. Each place setting showcased plates and soup bowl stacked neatly and perfectly centered. Flanking the dishes were forks to the left and knife and spoons to the right, all sterling silver. Bread and butter plates awaited the fresh rolls whose scent wafted from the kitchen and filled the
adjoining rooms. Crystal goblets shimmered as the water caught the flickering candlelight in the otherwise dim room.

  Will held Lucy’s chair for her, then took his own on her left. Richard slid into his chair on Lucy’s right, and Leo and Oliver were seated across from them. Samuel held his wife’s chair at one end of the table, then strode to the other end for his own. Lucy almost wished Will were seated across from her, where she could more easily admire his features.

  Samuel Banning lowered his head to give thanks for the food. Lucy was grateful for the coming meal, but at moments like this she often calculated how many orphan stomachs could be filled with the food that no doubt would be left over or pushed to the edges of the Banning plates. Silently, she enriched her father’s prayer with one of her own.

  As soon as Samuel said “Amen,” the footman appeared with the soup tureen. With the skill of daily experience, he ladled the watercress soup into bowls without splattering. As he did so, Penard placed rolls on the bread and butter plates. Soup spoons and butter knives began to clink.

  “Mr. Edwards, how are you finding Chicago?” Lucy asked. “I don’t believe Leo mentioned how long you’ve been here.”

  “I just arrived this week,” Will responded. “It’s certainly a change from New Jersey, but Chicago seems to be quite the up-and-coming city. I can see the attraction for all the people who are moving here.”

  Flora Banning set her fork down harder than etiquette would suggest. “Our families have been here for decades,” she said. “We’re looking forward to launching yet another generation. Did Lucy mention she is engaged to be married?”

  “Mother,” Lucy protested.

  Will took it in stride. “I understand from Leo that she is to marry Daniel Jules, a dear family friend,” he said. “I wish them every happiness.” He turned and smiled at Lucy.

  “I would like to know more about the work you’ll be doing,” Lucy said. She busied herself with a spoonful of soup while he answered. Will described some of the experience he had with the New Jersey firm and how he had come to be recommended to the firm in Chicago. Though young, he had developed a specialty in helping to design buildings for public use, and he thought a young, growing city such as Chicago would provide plenty of opportunities for creativity.