She drifted into a restless sleep after reminding herself she must keep to the kitchen tomorrow. Although most of the guests would be attending the regatta and athletic games, a few might linger behind. She would take no chance of further contact with the countess.
Fred had hoped Olivia could be in the grandstands or along the waterfront cheering him on during the sculling or the baseball game, but he knew she would be hard at work in the kitchen. There would be no time off for those employees required to take care of preparations and accommodations for the guests. However, the men participating in the games were excused from work all day on Saturday.
The oarsmen had been at the island since early morning and now were anxious to begin the first sprint of the day. The contestants held their boats steady at the starting line. Mr. Pullman, Mr. Howard, and a number of other dignitaries stood together near the water’s edge. Though the race could be observed from the grandstands, most spectators enjoyed cheering their favorite teams from the waterfront.
Mr. Pullman made it a point to station his group near the finish line so that he could congratulate and hand out medals to the winning team. His guests and a few of the company supervisors, all clad in look-alike dark suits, white shirts, and ties, circled around their host. Mr. Pullman’s expectations were high. He predicted the Pullman teams would win or place in the top three of every race or game this day.
Fred cared little if he pleased Mr. Pullman, but he did harbor concern for his teammates, for jobs could be affected when losses occurred. Right or wrong, some of the participating employees had been hired solely based upon their athletic prowess, and George Pullman expected to be rewarded. As with everything else, the town’s namesake left little to chance.
The gun sounded. Fred hoped for a cohesive start that would allow their team to quickly build momentum. They completed six partial strokes in a three-quarter slide followed by a quick cadence of half, half, three-quarters, three-quarters, and then a full-length stroke. The moment the full-length stroke had been completed, they moved into their high ten before settling into a slower stroke tempo. As they neared the finish, the Pullman team remained slightly ahead of a team that had traveled from St. Louis to participate.
In a desperate voice, the coxswain of the St. Louis team called for a flutter. Instead of boosting the men to a win, the demanding strokes further exhausted his team, and the Pullman team stroked to a relatively easy win. Once on shore, they were greeted with cheers and jubilation, along with the presentation of their medals by Mr. Pullman.
Although many of the supervisors participated in the games, Fred had never seen Mr. Howard take to the playing field or join the oarsmen or sailors on the water. He encouraged the workers and often spoke of his own desire to participate, but thus far he’d not done so, often stating his work kept him from practice. Fred wondered how he managed to eke out time to escort Olivia when he didn’t have sufficient time to take to the practice field.
Fred moved down the line, and Mr. Howard extended his hand in congratulations. ‘‘Good job, Fred. Let’s hope you do as well in the baseball game this afternoon.’’
Fred accompanied Albert to the athletic field and wondered if Mr. Howard’s comment had carried an ominous message. Perhaps he was overreacting, yet why had the comment been directed solely at him? Fred slapped Albert on the shoulder as they ambled along. ‘‘Our team worked well today, don’t you think?’’
Albert grinned and held his medal aloft. ‘‘Absolutely. We pulled out a victory!’’
‘‘For Mr. Pullman, too. Did you think there was a warning of some kind in Mr. Howard’s comment?’’
‘‘You mean about winning the baseball game?’’
Fred frowned and nodded.
Albert laughed. ‘‘You worry too much, Fred. You need to quit looking for trouble around every corner.’’ He clasped his hand on Fred’s shoulder. ‘‘Besides, we’re going to win, so there’s no need for concern.’’
They stopped at a grove of trees along one end of the field and found a spot to relax and enjoy the refreshing breeze wafting across the lake. Families strolled by carrying picnic baskets laden with food for their noonday meals while children raced back and forth, urging their parents on at each event.
Soon Mrs. DeVault arrived with a basket of food and cool drinks for them. When they’d finished eating, the two men sauntered to the far side of the grandstands to watch a rival game before taking to the field to play the winner. Mrs. DeVault headed off for the grandstands.
‘‘They’re good,’’ Fred declared when the game ended. The winning team was from a small town in Indiana, and they’d never before participated in the games. ‘‘Seems they’ve come with the intent of taking home a medal.’’
Albert stood up and brushed the grass from his uniform. ‘‘Well, we’ll have to show them we’re made of stronger stuff than the team they just trounced. And we’ll have the advantage of being rested.’’
A short time later the Pullman team ran out onto the field. Albert’s words rang in Fred’s ears throughout the game, energizing him, and when they entered the final inning, the score was tied. The crowd rose and roared in anticipation as John Burke came up to bat for the Pullman team. The first ball whooshed past him, and the umpire called a strike. John stepped away from the plate, hit the dirt from his shoes with the tip of the bat, and then returned. This time the bat connected with a loud crack and sent the ball flying into the grandstands. John’s home run was the final score of the game. The Pullman team won by a single run.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
There was much Fred didn’t know or understand about Olivia, and he’d hoped Albert would shed a ray of light on some of her behavior. He’d waited until they were alone to broach the topic. Unfortunately, the fact that Albert and Olivia were cousins hadn’t been of great assistance. Albert had been able to relate that Olivia had grown up without a mother and that she hadn’t shared a close relationship with her father, but Olivia had already told Fred that much. It was her secretive nature that baffled him.
She’d been reticent to share much about her personal life or her work at Lanshire Hall. Yet her work at Hotel Florence seemed of great import to her. Why would she hesitate to discuss her position at Lanshire Hall? He thought her achievements should be a topic of great pride, one she’d wish to elaborate upon. At first he’d decided she didn’t want to appear boastful, for by his measure, she was a humble young lady. However, he could see no reason for her to withhold so many details. It all seemed peculiar to him.
He’d even spoken to his mother about his lack of success in learning much about her. In her wisdom, she had advised that he should move slowly. She thought Olivia so wounded by her past that it might take years before she would feel comfortable sharing all of her history.
His mother’s words had evoked a deeper thankfulness in Fred for his family. They had never had much money, but there had always been a great deal of love. Love for each other and a deep love for God. Guided by his parents’ instruction, he had come to faith early in life. And so it had caught him by surprise when he’d become angry with God after his father’s death. For two years he’d wrestled with his grief, and though he continued to miss his father dearly, he had finally accepted God’s will and returned to the foundations of his faith.
Hoping Olivia would come to trust him, he had shared the tumultuous events of his past with her one sunny afternoon as they’d walked along the Calumet River. But his attempts to put her at ease had fallen short. Perhaps tonight would prove more successful. With the conclusion of the athletic activities and Mrs. Pullman’s fancy tea, he hoped Olivia would be pleased with his invitation today. He’d been scrimping and saving for weeks in order to afford the events he’d planned for their outing. Even Chef René had offered his cooperation and agreed Olivia could depart work earlier than usual on Saturday. His mother had agreed to care for young Morgan, but she had warned him he ought not be disappointed if Olivia didn’t want to go into the city. Still, he hoped
she would accept his offer.
He mustered his courage as he walked off to meet her at the hotel. Though there had been no further sightings of Eddie Calhoun, Fred continued to maintain a watchful eye. He hoped his presence established a sense of protection that had forced the young hooligan to abandon his menacing ways. In some ways, however, he was thankful for Eddie’s miscreant behavior, for Fred enjoyed walking Olivia home from work each evening.
Olivia was pacing in front of the rocking chairs that lined the hotel’s wraparound front porch where guests whiled away their leisure afternoons reading a book or visiting with one another. She waved and descended the steps. Fred hurried to meet her. Concern shone in her soft brown eyes as she came alongside and quickened her pace.
He tugged on her hand and laughed. ‘‘We’re not in training for a race, are we?’’
She slowed only slightly and shook her head.
‘‘Difficulty at work today?’’
‘‘I thought we’d seen the last of this barrage of guests, but Chef René tells me some of them plan to return in a couple of weeks.’’
‘‘After successfully preparing an elegant tea for all those finicky socialites, you will have no problem. You and Chef René should count it a compliment.’’
He had hoped his lighthearted banter would cheer her, but when she didn’t respond, he wondered if there was more to her mood than an onslaught of guests. Now he wasn’t certain if his invitation would be met with a cheerful response or an immediate refusal. He considered waiting until tomorrow, yet proper etiquette required more than a day’s notice.
He decided to go ahead. Reaching into his pocket, he produced two tickets to Hearts of Oak, a play scheduled to open in Chicago’s Auditorium Theater. He handed them to Olivia. ‘‘Look what I’ve purchased for us.’’
She tipped her head and gave him a sidelong glance, then studied the tickets. Before she could offer an objection, he turned around and walked backwards like a schoolboy while he told her he’d made arrangements for Morgan’s care and for her early departure from work on Saturday.
‘‘I hope you won’t think I overstepped my bounds. My plan was to relieve you of any worry so that you could simply enjoy the outing.’’ He raked his fingers through his hair while he awaited her answer.
‘‘You had best turn around and watch where you’re going before you fall and hurt yourself.’’
He took her banter as a good sign and pointed to the tickets she continued to hold between her fingers. ‘‘I’d be willing to fall flat on my back if it meant you’d agree to join me for supper and accompany me to the theater.’’
‘‘I can’t let you do that, Fred. The cost is far too much. These tickets alone—’’
‘‘I’ve invited you to be my guest, and I wouldn’t have done so if I couldn’t afford the expense. The tickets have already been paid for.’’ He grasped her hand, unconcerned what any passerby might think. ‘‘Please say you’ll accept my invitation, Olivia.’’
‘‘How could I refuse?’’
Without thinking, Fred put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. ‘‘I’d shout for joy, but it would likely bring all of the women and children out to gawk at us.’’
She laughed at his remark, delighted he’d planned a special outing for the two of them. And his embrace evoked emotions that surprised her. He held her close to his side in a way that made her feel they belonged together. For the first time in years, the ache of loneliness lessened its hold, and she secretly hoped he wouldn’t release her. She liked this sensation of belonging— and she liked Fred even more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A twinge of guilt assailed Olivia as she fingered the silk and taffeta gowns of differing styles and colors. These dresses, the very finest of Charlotte’s attire, had been tightly stuffed into one of her three wardrobes. Truth be told, the woman could have filled another one had there been space for an additional piece of furniture in the bedroom.
Though Charlotte’s wardrobes had overflowed, none of the clothing had fit her for more than a few weeks after their arrival. And the dresses still hadn’t fit her after Morgan’s birth. Olivia didn’t know if the contents of the wardrobes had been left behind because they were useless to Charlotte or because Charlotte planned to return. She hoped it would prove to be the latter, though as the days progressed, Olivia had become apprehensive. If Charlotte had departed only to avoid meeting her parents, she should have been back by now. Olivia found herself torn by the decision that must be made.
She placed a gown the shade of ripened wheat across the bed. After spreading the skirt and stepping across the room, she assessed her choice. Yes, it would be perfect! With her brunette hair fashioned in soft curls and Charlotte’s pale brown cashmere wrap around her shoulders, she should look as fashionable as any lady attending the theater this evening. Perhaps more so, thanks to Charlotte’s excellent taste.
An hour later, she glanced at the clock and forced her fingers to move more quickly at fashioning her curls. She thought she’d given herself ample time to prepare, but she’d not included the time she had needed to press the skirt of her dress. She was shoving the final pins into her hair when she heard Mrs. DeVault’s distinctive knock on the front door, a precaution devised by Fred to protect her from possible problems with Eddie. She hurried to the door with the cashmere wrap over her arm and a beaded reticule in her hand.
Fred stood beside his mother in the doorway, wearing his dark blue Sunday suit and carrying a black topcoat and derby. He looked most handsome with his wavy hair slicked and combed to the side.
She felt the warmth of a blush rise in her cheeks as he approvingly assessed her. ‘‘Do come in. Morgan is asleep and shouldn’t awaken for another half hour or so.’’
Mrs. DeVault unpinned her hat and dropped it on one of the hooks in the hallway. ‘‘You two go on and catch your train so you’re not late. I think I can handle young Morgan without instructions. I do look after him most every day.’’
Olivia giggled as she nodded her agreement. ‘‘Thank you so much—’’
‘‘No need to thank me now. I can hear the train whistle in the distance.’’ She patted Olivia on the shoulder. ‘‘Off with you and have a fine time. I’ll want to hear all the lovely details of the theater over supper tomorrow.’’
Neither of them responded as they departed. Outside, they greeted several couples passing by, and Olivia couldn’t help but notice the admiring looks she and Fred received. One young girl commented to her mother how much she liked Olivia’s gown.
Fred tilted his head closer. ‘‘I agree the dress is pretty, but the lady wearing it is beautiful, both inside and out.’’
Feelings of guilt attacked her, filling her thoughts with self-condemnation. Fred wouldn’t think her so beautiful if he knew the truth about her. God may have forgiven her, but she doubted that Fred would absolve her of her ugly secrets so readily. They boarded the train and took their seats, her mind still fraught with guilt.
He leaned close and rested his arm alongside hers. ‘‘Is that one of Mrs. Hornsby’s dresses?’’ His voice was no more than a whisper, and she suspected he didn’t want to embarrass her with his question.
‘‘Yes. Since she encouraged me to wear her dresses before her abrupt departure, I’ve taken the liberty of wearing this one without her permission.’’
‘‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Furthermore, I’m certain she wouldn’t look half so wonderful as you in the dress.’’
His words of praise were more than she could imagine. Someone who believed she looked finer than Lady Charlotte? The idea anyone would compare her favorably to Charlotte would have seemed preposterous less than a year ago. ‘‘Thank you, Fred.’’
As the train pulled out of the station and slowly gained speed, Fred brought up her work at Lanshire Hall. She wasn’t sure what had suddenly sparked his inquiry into her past, but she soon found herself tiptoeing around each of his questions. She truly didn’t want to tell any further l
ies. If this discussion continued, she’d have another list of lies to be forgiven before they ever arrived in Chicago.
In utter frustration, she looked out the window and commented on the weather and scenery. Shades of evening were falling across the flat prairie, and the setting sun reflected off Lake Michigan in a blaze of rusty gold. Her efforts were soon rewarded when Fred pointed out several barges on the lake. As they continued the short journey into Chicago, he didn’t miss the opportunity to direct her attention to the same luxurious homes she had seen when she had traveled to Pullman with Lady Charlotte.
‘‘They are lovely, aren’t they?’’ she said.
He grimaced at the sight. ‘‘The rich should be ashamed of their opulence. They compete for the biggest and best home while their workers struggle to get by.’’
Olivia didn’t want their evening ruined by a discussion of the wealthy capitalists who lived in Chicago’s finest section of town. Instead of commenting, she merely nodded, relieved when the train’s shrill whistle announced their arrival a few minutes later. Although the idea of once again navigating the streets of Chicago unsettled her a bit, Olivia was confident in Fred’s ability. He exuded a sense of self-assurance that enabled her to trust him.
The journey from the train depot to the theater didn’t seem nearly so harrowing as her previous trip to Chicago. Either she was becoming more accustomed to the hubbub of the city and what to expect, or Fred had a calming effect upon her.
Fred removed the tickets from his jacket pocket when they neared the auditorium. ‘‘I do wish you would have agreed to supper.’’
In the Company of Secrets Page 21