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

by Newport, Olivia

  “I believe I have some gifts to get tomorrow,” Lucy said. “I’m afraid I’ve rather left things to the last minute. Perhaps I’ll take Charlotte with me to help with packages. I’m sure Mrs. Fletcher can spare her for a few hours.” Two can play that game, she thought.

  Charlotte discreetly disappeared into the butler’s pantry.

  “But you know I’m going to my needlework group tomorrow,” Flora protested, “and your father and brothers have to be downtown. I’m afraid you won’t have a carriage.”

  “No mind,” Lucy said lightly. “We’ll catch a cab on Michigan Avenue.”

  “As long as I don’t hear any nonsense about using the streetcar,” Flora said.

  “I promise.”

  Two hours later, Lucy pushed the annunciator button and called for Charlotte to help her undress. When the maid arrived, Lucy was already out of her gown and in a sleeping shift.

  “I’m sorry my mother did that,” Lucy said immediately. “I should have warned you about how much the neighborhood shares servants during the holidays.”

  “We’re not really going shopping tomorrow, are we?” Charlotte asked.

  “Well, I’ll have to come home with some packages or face an inquisition,” Lucy said. “But I’ll put you on a streetcar going south as soon as we’re out of the neighborhood and we’ll meet up to come home together.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lucy.” Charlotte’s gratitude was sincere. “But Mrs. Given will not be expecting me.”

  “She looks after two toddlers and an infant,” Lucy reasoned. “I’m sure she must venture out from time to time, but she can’t be gone long. I promise, you are going to see Henry tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lucy,” Charlotte said again. She rearranged items on the vanity table for no particular reason. “Mr. Daniel was not waiting for you today, was he?”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “No, thank goodness. He was only there that one time two weeks ago. I’ve learned my lesson about walking alone.”

  “But why shouldn’t you walk alone?” Charlotte wanted to know. “If the weather is fine and you love to walk, why shouldn’t you?”

  Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps in time. But I don’t want to invite a reoccurrence.”

  “Mr. Penard insists that we continue to lay a place for Mr. Daniel at every meal,” Charlotte said.

  “I know. I realize my brothers miss him. But I’m grateful that if he stays the night, he comes in late and leaves early at least some of the time.”

  Charlotte left a few minutes later, and Lucy brushed her own hair. This is going to change, she promised herself. Charlotte and I are both going to have some control over our own lives. Somehow. Soon.

  Lucy was already registered for the next term. She had scoured the course offerings carefully to find a class that met on the same schedule as her current class. Any change in routine would arouse questions she didn’t want to answer.

  The days bustled by, and Christmas Eve was upon Prairie Avenue. Candles, outdated for daily use by gas lamps and then electric lights, came out of the closets and sprang up in the windowsills in nostalgic arrangements. Greenery adorned mantels and railings. Towering trees rose in foyers and parlors, where they awaited ribbons and ornaments. Dinner at the Banning house, Lucy knew, would be shamelessly profligate and Flora would crave even more celebration. Samuel would ceremonially press a few coins into the hands of each member of the household staff. It would be a fraction of a fraction of what Lucy knew he could easily afford. For the members of the staff who had been working in the household for the entire year, envelopes awaited in the butler’s pantry with a bonus month’s wages. There was no question of Lucy not being present for these traditions, but she was determined to spend a few hours at St. Andrew’s. She made no particular secret of her intentions—daring her parents to object to offering a morsel of cheerfulness to orphans on Christmas Eve. She took the larger carriage, laden with packages wrapped in paper and tied in string.

  Children were singing carols when she entered the gray dining hall—dozens of soprano voices fighting to be heard, each one seemingly more enthusiastic than the next. They seemed oblivious to the drear around them. Lucy made a mental note to arrange to have the dining room painted. Some of the boys could do the work if they had proper supervision. In another corner, a group of older children were stringing popcorn in winding lengths. Mr. Emmett had mentioned to Lucy that someone had kindly donated the tree, but still most of the children would finish the holiday with little or nothing more than they had when it began. The lucky ones might get a sweet treat or a note from a parent. A few very, very lucky ones would spend Christmas somewhere other than St. Andrew’s. Lucy intended to make sure every single child had a fat, juicy orange that didn’t have to be shared and that the bookshelves and modest toy cupboards were filled to overflowing.

  “Miss Lucy!” Little Benny barreled toward her from across the hall, and Lucy barely freed her arms of packages in time to receive him. Benny threw his arms around her neck and squealed, “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Lucy responded.

  “I have a new friend.” Benny dragged Lucy by the hand.

  She followed him between the wooden tables and benches, where the children ate their meals in two shifts three times a day, toward the Christmas tree.

  “Here’s my new friend,” Benny said. “His name is Mr. Will.”

  Lucy’s eyes lifted and widened. “Will! My goodness!” She glanced down at Benny. “Mr. Will is my friend too.”

  “I meant what I said when I offered to help,” Will said. “You kindly passed my offer on to Mr. Emmett and he just as kindly sent me a note inviting me to stop by.”

  “You might have told me,” Lucy said. But she was pleased to see him, and the shine in his eyes told her he was glad she had come.

  “Mr. Will brought us a tree.” Benny’s round face glowed. “And he’s going to come back soon and build proper offices. He promised!”

  “Then I’m sure he’ll do just that,” Lucy assured the boy, “because Mr. Will strikes me as a man of his word.” She turned to Will. “I have a carriage full of packages outside. Perhaps you’d like to help me fetch them.”

  Will glanced at the progress on the tree. Benny leaned over one of the older girls with great interest in what her fingers were doing with needle and popcorn and cranberries.

  “The crew seems to have this well in hand,” Will said. He offered his arm and she took it.

  “So you’re going to be coming round to St. Andrew’s to build offices,” Lucy said.

  “I’ve already given Mr. Emmett some rough sketches. I think we’ve settled on a plan. You’ll be pleased to know he wants to make the volunteer office considerably larger.”

  “That is good news. When do you expect to begin?”

  “Right after New Year’s. I’ll work in the evenings and on Saturday afternoons when my firm’s offices are closed. Mr. Emmett feels several of the older boys would do well with the experience, so I have a built-in work crew.”

  “It’s a wonderful idea.” Lucy stopped short of the carriage. She didn’t want the driver to overhear, but Will was sure to find out soon enough. “Will, I’ve got a confession to make.”

  He turned and looked at her square on. “You’re not really here three days a week.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve met Benny a time or two before,” Will explained. “He’s adamant Friday is the day Miss Lucy comes.”

  “He keeps track of a calendar amazingly well for a six-year-old.” Lucy’s tone sounded nervous even to her own ears.

  “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m not going to run and tattle on you.”

  “Aren’t you even curious where I really do go on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

  “Of course,” he answered, “but only because I find you interesting in many ways. It’s really none of my business, though.”

  Lucy worked her lips, but the words would not form.

  “We’d better
get the packages,” Will said.

  Lucy resumed progress toward the carriage. “Will, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Let’s just make a bunch of children very happy this afternoon.”

  Will opened the carriage door and leaned in for a stack of boxes. Lucy swallowed the knot in her throat and wished one of the packages were for Will.

  Lucy ate the succulent roast turkey with the savory apple-walnut dressing Mrs. Fletcher only prepared for Christmas Eve. She ate wild rice, sweet potatoes, red beets, and green salad. She even ate pecan pie. But she wondered all the while what Will was eating for dinner, and with whom. And where would he spend Christmas Day? Secretly she hoped Leo would invite Will to the Banning celebration, but the family traditions were rutted deep and never varied. Their only guests from year to year were the Juleses.

  Daniel and his parents would arrive for a late Christmas morning breakfast, as they did every year. Flora went to great pains to be sure Lucy understood certain long-standing traditions would not be disrupted for her convenience. The truth was Lucy did not want to disrupt traditions. It was awkward for her to encounter Daniel personally, but she wanted everyone to continue sharing their affections freely. While she was sure to decline an invitation to stroll if Daniel offered, it was imperative they learn to be comfortable with their families around them.

  As Lucy sipped her after-dinner coffee, she realized she knew virtually nothing about Will’s family other than their humble station. Why had he not taken a train to New Jersey for Christmas? If Leo knew the details of Will’s family, he never mentioned them.

  After the sumptuous meal and the family’s exchange of gifts, it was time for the Bannings to prepare for the late night Christmas Eve service at Second Presbyterian.

  “Why don’t you come?” Lucy coaxed Charlotte as the maid fastened the gold chain Richard had given his sister around her neck. “The other maids always go.”

  “I’m sure there’s still work to do here for tomorrow.” Mr. Penard always had a list of details to confirm or improve. Charlotte supposed Christmas would be even more taxing than the usual Banning dinner.

  “It can wait,” Lucy countered. “Even Mrs. Fletcher goes to church on Christmas Eve. Surely she can’t begrudge you the same opportunity.”

  “What would I wear? I haven’t got any church clothes.”

  Lucy waved a hand. “There must be something in my closet that would fit you. Choose anything you like—and keep it as a gift.”

  Charlotte protested further, but in the end, Lucy wore her down. Now she sat in the balcony at Second Presbyterian between Elsie and Archie and wore Lucy’s gray flannel suit. The skirt was a little big at the waist, but the length of the jacket hid the pins that held the skirt in place.

  Second Presbyterian was as far from her grandmother’s small clapboard church as Charlotte could imagine possible. For almost three months Charlotte had considered the towering Gothic structure from the outside, and now she absorbed the experience from the inside. The stained glass windows under the arches were dim in the midnight moonlight, but she could imagine their brilliance with morning sun pouring through them. Hundreds of organ pipes glittered in the light of the candelabras standing in front of them. Just the greenery adorning the sanctuary must have cost a small fortune—by Charlotte’s standards, though a pittance by Prairie Avenue standards, she knew.

  She had no voice for the carols, though. Words about a baby boy in his mother’s arms choked in her throat. Looking down from the balcony, she soaked up the families gathered in the pews below, grandchildren visiting for the holiday and three generations sitting together in many pews. Even in the pew behind her, a boy not yet old enough for school wriggled with Christmas delight well past his bedtime. Her own loss stabbed her. All her dreams of what her family might be already were dashed, and she was only twenty. If only her grandmother had lived to meet Henry.

  Tomorrow was Sunday, but none of the staff would have the day off because it was Christmas and a day full of feast and extravagance for the Bannings. Charlotte was used to working on Christmas. On the farm, the animals still hungered and gave milk on holidays.

  Henry’s first Christmas. It was little comfort to tell herself Henry was too young to know his mother was not with him on Christmas, or even that it was Christmas. Charlotte sniffed and blinked back tears she had not expected.

  Beside her, Archie offered to share his hymnal and quietly took her hand. Charlotte knew she should not allow Archie to hold her hand. It wasn’t fair to him. He was a thoughtful enough young man, but nothing could ever come of his attentions. Just for that moment, though, just for a few seconds, Charlotte yearned for the kindness of a man’s touch.

  At the start of the next stanza, she withdrew her hand.

  20

  Is it a month in spring?”

  “No, it is not ‘May.’”

  “Does it come after the night?”

  “No, it is not ‘day.’”

  “Will I get somewhere if I take it?”

  “No, it is not ‘way.’”

  “Will I spend some coins?”

  “No, it is not ‘pay.’”

  “Is it the color of your Aunt Violet’s mare?” Will was getting desperate.

  Lucy laughed. “No, it is not ‘gray.’”

  “Will I find some in a barn?”

  “No, it is not ‘hay.’”

  “Do we do this in church?”

  “No, it is not ‘pray.’”

  “Mmm.” He thought harder. “Can I ride it through the snow?”

  “No, it is not ‘sleigh.’ But that’s clever!”

  Will shrugged. “I give up. I’m sure you’re sorry you asked me to play.”

  “That’s it!” Lucy fell back in the settee in laughter.

  “‘Play’? That’s the word?” Will asked.

  Leo clapped him on the back. “You’re better at Crambo than you confessed.”

  “I assure you, I truly was ready to admit defeat,” Will insisted. “My mind just doesn’t make the right connections for some of these parlor games.”

  “You did very well,” Lucy said. “Your clue was ‘ray,’ and you came up with a lot of rhyming words.”

  “Until I stumbled on the right one quite by accident.”

  Leo stood up. “Who needs a fresh glass of holiday punch?”

  While Leo carried glasses to the crystal punch bowl on the round table in the foyer, Will assessed the group. When Leo invited him to spend New Year’s Eve at the Bannings’, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he had thought it would be more formal than a group of Leo’s friends usurping the use of the parlor. He supposed both Leo and Lucy would have been invited to balls, and in fact some of the guests seemed as if they were dressed with the intention of going to a ball later. George Glessner was there with a young woman named Phyllida whom neither Leo nor Lucy had met before, but George wore a tuxedo complete with cummerbund, and Phyllida wore an ivory satin gown with generous drapes in the skirt. A colleague from Leo’s department at the university was there with his bride, married only two weeks so not yet disengaged from the unattached band of friends who had gone through school together. They were dressed nicely, but not for the ballroom circuit. Harry, David, Amelia, and Cynthia came as a group without particular pairings. Will met all these friends of Leo’s for the first time that night.

  The rest of the Bannings had dispersed around the neighborhood to various parties. Even Richard had an invitation and was going to be allowed to stay out until midnight before a coachman would go fetch him.

  Will picked up his empty glass and sauntered out to the foyer to the table encumbered with platters of food that seemed to rotate periodically but never disappear. Charlotte stood by attentively refilling punch glasses and offering delectable finger foods on small plates.

  “Ah, Will, my good friend.” Leo spoke with holiday satisfaction. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening so far.”

  “It’s a nice party, Leo. No
t too stuffy.”

  “You couldn’t seriously think I would invite you to a stuffy party.” Leo took Will’s glass and handed it to Charlotte to refill.

  “Thank you, Charlotte.” Will took the glass back. The maid dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment of being spoken to but showed no further reaction. Will could read no emotion in her flat expression. Was it the result of unrelenting training about what it meant to be in service, or did she really feel no hint of excitement even on New Year’s Eve? The image of her ashen face the day he had encountered Lucy and Charlotte in the street in mid-October hung before his eyes now.

  “Will, I hope you’ll take advantage of this opportunity to chat with Cynthia Sterling,” Leo suggested. “I’ve known her for years, and I’m certain you’d enjoy her company. As a matter of fact, she went to school with Lucy.”

  “Which one is she?” Will’s eyes followed Lucy’s movement across the foyer and into the dining room and the way she glanced back toward Charlotte in a gracious sweep.

  Leo playfully punched his arm. “Pay attention! In the green dress.”

  Will looked across the foyer into the parlor. “Oh yes.” Cynthia was a striking woman, but nothing compared to Lucy. His eyes moved back to Lucy.

  “Perhaps we’ll pair you with Cynthia for the next game,” Leo suggested. His eyes twinkled. “If you’re lucky, you’ll be next to her at the stroke of midnight.”

  Will had no intention of kissing anyone at the stroke of midnight. Already he had decided to step outside for some air to clear his head shortly before, conveniently “forgetting” what time it was.

  Charlotte carried an empty tray into the kitchen and prepared to refill it with tiny sausages wrapped in pastry, which she removed from the oven. Penard had given Mrs. Fletcher the evening off, while he himself stayed to supervise service at the party. Most of the work was left to Charlotte and Archie, the footman and assistant coachman who would be sent to fetch Richard at twelve-thirty. However, Mrs. Fletcher had prepared for two days and left an assortment of finger foods, desserts, and beverages that would see the parlor group into the New Year. Charlotte simply had to warm some of them periodically and make sure the supply was never-ending.