The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1)

by N. S. Wikarski

  With reckless bravado, she exclaimed, “Oh, what a shame! To be left all alone at the Fair.”

  Blackthorne followed her gaze but said nothing.

  “I wonder if some kind gentleman will take pity on her and show her the sights. Wouldn’t that be a fine thing for her, Jonathan?”

  “Yes, a fine thing, I’m sure.” His voice was noncommittal, but his foot had begun to tap.

  Evangeline paused, seeming to be in a quandary. “And yet, there are so many tricksters and confidence men around the fairgrounds. One never knows whom an innocent girl might meet here.”

  Blackthorne turned to face her directly. He regarded her intently for several seconds. “An innocent girl,” he echoed skeptically. “Innocence is nothing more than a sham virtue, an attempt to manipulate a response of pity out of one’s fellow man.”

  Evangeline tried to match his slow, smooth tone. “Then, I take it, you don’t pretend to be your sister’s keeper?”

  He laughed lightly. “I feel no moral obligation to support hypocrisy no matter what guise it assumes, whether female or male, sister or brother!”

  With a languid movement he reached his hand out to touch her cheek. His hand moved down until it came to rest on her neck. She could feel his thumb pressing ever so slightly against the side of her throat. In a low voice, he said, “But since you’re so concerned about her welfare, perhaps you should warn her... ,” he paused. “Yes. Perhaps you should warn her of the wolves lurking in the shadows all around, the wolves that prey on innocence.”

  A shock of electricity traveled through Evangeline’s spine at his words. She tried to laugh, but failed. She stepped back to take herself out of his reach. “What nonsense you talk, Jonathan. I don’t see any wolves lurking around here.”

  “Don’t you, Engie?” Blackthorne’s eyes had grown very cold. A thin smile formed on his lips. “Forgive me. I must have been mistaken.”

  The silence that followed opened like a chasm between them. After what seemed like several hours, Blackthorne finally asked, “Shall we go up?” He held out his hand to help his companion ascend the stairs to the ride. Evangeline wordlessly complied as he sent her to the loading platform while he went to the ticket booth to pay for their admission.

  While she waited, she studied the construction of the wonder to end all wonders. The immense wheel had thirty-six wooden cars suspended from it. Each one looked like a cable car turned sideways. In total, the observation cars could hold over two-thousand passengers at a time. Blackthorne returned to escort her inside. The minute the car door was secure, the giant wheel lurched into life.

  Evangeline looked around in surprise—at the dozens of empty seats, at the ground receding below them. “Jonathan, we’re all alone. Where are all the other passengers?”

  Her companion chuckled. “I thought it would be a delightful diversion that in this White City of thousands, we should have an island to ourselves at the top of the world.”

  Evangeline was too shocked to speak. She continued to stare at Blackthorne in amazement until he added, “I bought all the seats in this car. It’s surprising how much solitude twenty dollars can buy.”

  “But the conductor,” Evangeline protested. “The last time I rode the Ferris wheel, the car had a conductor who locked the door from the inside.”

  Blackthorne seemed highly amused at some private joke. “I gave ours a slight monetary incentive to rest his feet for a while. He did argue with me about safety. I simply asked if he thought I appeared to be the sort of fellow who would take chances. He said he didn’t think so.” Blackthorne paused before adding, “Do you think I would, Engie?”

  Evangeline glanced nervously around her. “I think you aren’t the sort of man to put yourself in jeopardy, Jonathan.”

  She walked toward the window at the front of the car. It was covered with a thin screen of wire mesh to prevent anyone from jumping, or falling, out. She relaxed slightly after reassuring herself that there were no gaps in the mesh.

  Although she stood perfectly still, she could see the ground receding below her just the same. The ride stopped at six different points to allow patrons to savor the view from different elevations. At its second stop, when the wheel paused midway in its ascent, Evangeline sighed. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have this perspective all the time? Look at how much one can see in a single glance.”

  “There are some things not worth seeing, Engie. Take that, for instance.” Blackthorne pointed toward the sooty haze that overshadowed Chicago to the north, the contribution of the city’s innumerable factory smokestacks.

  Evangeline gazed off into the distance. “I suppose you’d prefer to look there instead.” She gestured to the sterile purity of the White City directly ahead of them.

  “Yes, I find that particular prospect most pleasing."

  “But it’s not real, is it. The only reality is that brown mass of burning coal and rotting garbage and slum flats seven miles to the north of us.”

  Blackthorne came to stand behind her to see the view from her perspective. He rested his hands on the window frame—pinning her within the span of his arms. He leaned down to match her eye level, his lips near her ear. He said softly, “The White City is a dream come to life. Of all man's aspirations—the crowning achievement.”

  “And the brown city is the substance of man's achievements, in spite of his aspirations.” The soft tone of her voice belied the harshness of the sentiment.

  Blackthorne didn't stir. “For shame, Engie. I thought you were the idealist, not me.”

  Evangeline continued to look at the city skyline. She answered sadly, “You mistake me. I am painfully idealistic. The money that built this Exposition might have been better spent on wage increases.”

  She could feel his breath against her cheek as he whispered, “It must be lonely to be so much of an idealist.”

  “On the contrary, I am never lonely.” She made the statement with far more certainty than she felt. Turning her eyes away from the real city, she looked out at the lake instead. Blackthorne remained motionless. He offered no comment.

  When the giant wheel had paused once more and they were at the apex of their ascent, Blackthorne walked over to the door of the observation car. Without warning, he opened it and stepped forward to peer over the edge. Evangeline expected him every moment to invite her over to join him. He didn’t. Her natural curiosity couldn’t stand the strain any longer. Perfectly aware of the risk she was taking, she stepped toward the door.

  “What do you see?”

  He glanced casually over his shoulder at her. “What God must have seen on the seventh day, once his creation was complete.” He stood back from the open doorway, his eyes silently challenging her to join him at the edge of the world.

  It wouldn’t have been in her nature to resist the dare. She expected he knew that. Stepping forward two paces more she stood with the tips of her boots protruding over the edge of the platform. Her left hand firmly grasped the door jamb as she peaked over the edge. There was no glass, no wire mesh separating her from thin air. She knew what a bird must feel like to breathe the intoxicating breeze that floated just above the reach of gravity.

  “Look there!” Blackthorne swept his arm wide to point at something in the distance. He bumped her shoulder as his arm shot forward, knocking her off balance. Knocking her through the open doorway into the void.

  Evangeline shrieked. Her left hand still held fast to the door jamb as her right clawed at the outside frame of the observation car. The only word she could manage to gasp was “h...elp!”

  “Engie!” he cried. He seemed paralyzed by shock.

  To her horror, she saw the Austrian village directly below her—no net, no platform intervening between her dangling toes and 266 feet of open air. She grew dizzy as she struggled to pull herself back into the car. She could see a crowd of people gathering on the ground below, pointing upward... pointing at her. With a sick sense of dread, she realized a hand had grasped her elbow. She waited, scar
cely breathing, through the endless second it took to determine whether that hand meant to help her up or push her the rest of the way down.

  The verdict came when Blackthorne grasped her by the waist and swung her back into the car. “Oh, my dear! Thank God!”

  She fell to her knees, too much in shock to stand.

  “Are you all right?” His hands cupped her face. He was on his knees beside her, the portrait of solicitude.

  Drawing a deep breath, she took several seconds before replying. “Yes, quite.” She drew herself back up to her feet. He rushed to assist her.

  “What a fright you gave me! I’m so sorry. How stupid of me! How careless!” He appeared seriously shaken.

  As shaken as she herself was.

  Smiling ruefully, she said, “As a child, I always wished I could fly. Little did I know I’d so nearly have the opportunity.”

  Blackthorne slammed the door decisively. “I’m a careless fool! I’ll never forgive myself for this! Never!”

  Evangeline dusted off her sleeves in what she hoped was a show of nonchalance. “No harm done, Jonathan. Freddie always teased me that I have reflexes as quick as any cat. Fortunately for both of us, that proved to be true. You mustn’t carry on so.”

  Blackthorne looked at her worriedly. “It’s kind of you to make light of this, but I can’t.”

  Evangeline inclined her head. “Take it as you wish. For my part, I don’t want to waste another minute of this glorious scenery that I so nearly became a part of.” She walked back to the window and stood resolutely contemplating the view. In part, it was to hide the fact that her hands were still shaking, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling with the aftereffects of shock.

  The wheel began to spin again ever so slowly, like the earth, so that the couple was unaware of the motion as it occurred. Neither one spoke again until the final jolt of gravity signaled that the ride was at an end. They escaped from the platform before the operators of the Ferris wheel were alerted to the fact that one of their riders had found a new and more thrilling vantage point for viewing the fairgrounds.

  At a loss for any other strategy, Evangeline allowed herself to be led back to more seemly amusements, but her brush with disaster ended any possibility of savoring the rest of the sights of the Fair. Mirroring her distress, Blackthorne didn’t press her to wait for the sun to set in order to see the Fair ablaze with its 120,000 incandescent bulbs. Instead, by four o’clock the couple made their way back to the entrance where they started and found Jack waiting to take them home.

  After climbing into the carriage, they sat in silence for some time. As they neared downtown, Evangeline steeled herself for one final maneuver.

  “Jonathan, your mother has hinted that you have a particular inclination toward me.”

  Blackthorne gave her a searching look and then began to smile sardonically. He took her hand between his own. “You’ve heard the same hint from my own lips. I can only attribute your statement to feminine delicacy if you’re suggesting that it required my mother’s intervention to clarify my intentions toward you, Engie.”

  Evangeline offered no response. She merely gazed out the carriage window.

  “Have you had time to consider matters since our last conversation on the subject?” He toyed with the needlepoint rosettes embroidered on her glove.

  “To what specifically are you referring?”

  “You are far too clever a woman to mistake my meaning. Therefore I must assume you wish to make this as difficult as possible for me.” He took a deep breath. “To be blunt, I'm referring to my proposal of marriage.”

  “Oh, I see. You never actually came out and asked me, you know.”

  “It didn’t occur to me that you could fail to recognize the implied question. I stand corrected. I’ll speak more plainly now, ma chérie. Will you marry me?”

  Evangeline closed her eyes briefly. She felt an odd sense of triumph adulterated with dread. He had taken the bait. Summoning her most gracious smile, she said, “I hadn’t expected quite so direct a statement of your intentions when I broached the topic, Jonathan.”

  Blackthorne laughed ruefully. “I see. I’m to be abused no matter what course of action I try.”

  “Not exactly. I merely meant that such an important question requires serious consideration before a reply is given.” Evangeline began to fidget. “I... I don’t know what to say just now.”

  Blackthorne pressed his hands more closely around hers to quiet her restlessness. “You’ll have to say something. Believe me, it would be far kinder to hear an honest ‘no’ than more equivocation.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with my equivocation a bit longer. It’s just too much to ask of me during a mid-afternoon carriage ride. As I said, this decision requires forethought.”

  “How much forethought?”

  “You may expect my answer a week from today. Will that do?”

  “I’m afraid it will have to.” Blackthorne was silent for several minutes. In an unexpected move, he leaned over toward her and brushed her lips with his own. His voice was so quiet that she felt, rather than heard, his words. “Engie, don’t you realize how alike we are? Who else could ever match you as well?”

  She turned her face away from him to look out the window. She could hardly tell him the truth—that only days before she might have agreed with him. Perhaps it was a distortion in the glass, but her vision had become unaccountably blurred.

  Blackthorne was about to speak again when the carriage stopped abruptly. They had arrived at the Kinzie Street train station where he was to catch the commuter line back to Lake Arbor. As he got out of the carriage, he said quietly, “Deny it if you must, Engie. I believe you love me, at least a little.”

  He took her hand and bent down to kiss it. Evangeline allowed him to do so without remark but she found herself wondering what it was, if anything, that Jonathan Blackthorne really loved.

  Chapter 23—Of Swan Boats And Vice

  “Freddie, I’m glad you called. We can talk about your trip when you get here. I must see you today!” The voice on the other end of the line sounded urgent. “Meet me at the brownstone as soon as you can.” Then she hung up.

  Freddie, valise in tow from his trip to Iowa, walked out of the train station to find a cab. Once he saw the congestion of the midday crowd, he decided to forgo the cab and travel on foot. When he rang the doorbell of the Astor Street palace that Evangeline offhandedly called the “townhouse,” she met him herself at the door. She had on her hat and coat as if she were about to leave.

  “Where have you been!” She was clearly upset about something. “You called over an hour ago.”

  “Engie, don’t be a shrew. I called less than twenty minutes ago and had to walk.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Let’s go. I have something to show you.”

  Freddie opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air before he could formulate a proper question. “Wha... wha... Why? What’s wrong with right here?”

  “Because I can’t think properly! So much has happened! I need some air to clear my head. I’ve had Jack pack us a picnic lunch.”

  “But I’ll never get the train back to Shore Cliff in time! My mother is sure to send out a search party for me, and I’ll have to dream up some new excuse to explain where I’ve been...” Freddie rambled on for several more minutes but eventually allowed himself to be led around the back of the house where Jack sat in the driver’s seat of the carriage.

  “Good day, Mister Freddie.” The coachman touched the brim of his hat in greeting.

  “Same to you, Jack. Do you know where she’s dragging us to?”

  “Where else but Lincoln Park? It’s a fine day for a drive.”

  “You’re in much better humor about it than I am.” Freddie remained surly. “I still don’t see why we can’t talk right here and now!” Evangeline poked his arm as an indication to help her into the carriage. He complied grudging
ly and they were off.

  Jack was able to move the horses up Lake Shore Drive at a steady trot, and they reached their destination just as the sun touched the top branches of the trees along the western boundary of the park. The two alighted and walked across the broad expanse of green lawn toward the lagoon. Evangeline maintained a taut silence until they reached the water. Because it was so late in the season, there were few people about. A knot of fishermen and a solitary cyclist were their only company. Wanting to ease Evangeline’s tension, if only with small talk, Freddie pointed to the swan-shaped gondolas that could be rented if one was inclined to paddle about the inlets. Most of them had been removed from the water in anticipation of winter, which might claim Chicago any day.

  “You’ll never believe the story Bill told me about those boats.”

  “What?” Evangeline apparently had decided to humor him.

  “Well, it seems the City Council wanted to subsidize the cost of six more of them for the park. An alderman, who shall remain nameless for the purposes of this conversation, in a burst of civic duty felt it was an unnecessary waste of taxpayers’ money. I was told he said, ‘Why not purchase two swan boats and just let nature take its course.’”

  Evangeline burst out laughing and shook her head. “I’m surprised that there weren’t at least ten other men on the council ready to second his motion.”

  “Oh twenty, at least.” Freddie chuckled. “That one will never make the papers, so I tell you knowing I can rely on your discretion...”

  “... to repeat it at every social gathering I attend for the rest of the season.”

  “I knew I could depend on you. Now let’s get down to business. Just wait till I tell you what I discovered in Iowa!”

  “A great deal of corn, I should think.” Evangeline looked about her distractedly. “Wait, let’s get one of those.” She gestured toward the small rowboats still anchored in the lagoon. A rheumatic attendant in a derby sat on duty lest anyone try to make off with any of his charges.