Storing Up Trouble

by Jen Turano

  “Thank you again for your assistance, Miss Waterbury,” Agent Mahoney began. “I’ll have that hansom cab waiting for you right outside.” With that, Agent Mahoney strode from the room, the remaining men in the room following after him.

  “Why do I get the distinct impression I’m not going to like what you have to say about my aunt?” Beatrix asked, resuming her seat.

  Norman settled into the chair Agent Mahoney had recently occupied. “Because no one enjoys hearing less-than-pleasant tidbits about their relatives, but before I disclose anything, how well do you know your aunt?”

  “I’ve only met her a few times, so not well.”

  “And do you not have any other family you might be able to call on in what I’ve only recently determined must be your time of need?”

  Beatrix wrinkled her nose. “Why would you think I’m in a time of need?”

  “That’s the only reasonable explanation I could draw, given that Miss Gladys Huttleston is not a lady I believe anyone, not even a niece, would willingly travel to visit unless that was the only option available.”

  “I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. My mother wanted me to spend time with her older sister, so that’s why I’m in Chicago.”

  Norman tilted his head. “So you’ve not recently lost your parents?”

  “Both of my parents are alive and well.”

  “Does your mother not care for you, then?”

  “I’m sure my mother loves me very much.”

  Norman frowned. “An idea you might want to revisit because I wouldn’t think a mother who loves her daughter would send her off to stay with a woman as terrifying as Miss Huttleston, something I assure you everyone in and around Chicago believes, whether they are society or not.”

  “Aunt Gladys is a bit querulous from what I recall, but not terrifying.”

  Norman leaned toward her. “When I was younger, my sister told me all about your aunt. She lurks about the city in the company of a hulking brute of a man, searching for orphans she then takes home with her—and those orphans are never seen again.”

  A snort escaped Beatrix’s lips right before she began to laugh.

  “Abducting the orphans of the city is no laughing matter,” Norman said.

  She released a hiccup of amusement. “May I assume this sister of yours is older than you?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything, because older siblings are known to torment their younger siblings, and clearly that’s what your sister was doing with you.” She released another hiccup. “I have two older brothers who enjoyed tormenting me endlessly in my youth with farfetched stories that I certainly did believe at the time. However, when I reached the age of eight, I realized my brothers were jesting with me, which put a rapid end to their stories.” She shook her head. “You’re evidently a literal sort—so literal, in fact, that you apparently never realized your sister was telling you some very tall tales.”

  “My sister is not one to tell fibs.”

  “While I hate to disillusion you about your sister, I fear she was amusing herself at your expense. However, because you’re hardly going to listen to my argument, allow me to appeal to what I’ve concluded is a very logical mind. Don’t you think that if orphans had truly begun disappearing, and my aunt’s house was the last place they were seen, that the authorities would have stepped in by now and carted my aunt off to jail?”

  Norman opened his mouth, then closed it again as the logic of what she’d said registered. Rising to his feet, he helped Beatrix to hers, then took her arm.

  “You’ve just presented me with a most valid point,” he said, steering her for the door. “And one that I’ll be broaching with my sister the next time I’m in her company.”

  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.”

  “I’m sure you would enjoy it immensely, but enough about that. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to escort you to your aunt’s house.”

  She raised a hand to her chest. “Be still my heart. Here I thought you’d had just about enough of me today, and yet you’re now suggesting you desire to spend additional time in my company, even though there’s really no need.”

  “Of course there is,” he countered. “I need to see for myself that you won’t be in danger. And once I’m satisfied that I won’t be leaving you to the machinations of a madwoman, then and only then will I bid you good-bye.”

  Chapter 6

  To Beatrix’s surprise, Norman, instead of retreating back to his mathematical equations as they rode through the crowded streets of Chicago in a hansom cab, took to telling her all sorts of tidbits about the city, making the ride downright pleasant instead of uncomfortable.

  He started with explaining about the great fire of 1871, which saw a good portion of the city go up in flames, then moved on to telling her about Potter Palmer. That gentleman had evidently been influential with the recovery of State Street, making improvements to that area that would not have been possible if many of the derelict buildings both on and surrounding that street had not been consumed by the fire. He then pointed out stores he thought she’d find interesting on State Street, including Marshall Field & Company, before launching into a list of the churches available throughout the city, as well as parks.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Beatrix finally asked as Norman settled back on the seat next to her.

  “Because you accused me of being inept at chitchat, and I’m now determined to prove you wrong.”

  “And here I thought you were trying your hand at being charming.”

  “I can be charming.”

  “Tell me about this Hyde Park where my aunt resides. Is it a fashionable part of town?” Beatrix asked, seeing no point in getting into an argument with Norman yet again, even though she had much to say about his charm, or lack thereof.

  “Hyde Park is a perfectly respectable area, and it’s located not far from where I live on Prairie Avenue, which is north of Hyde Park.”

  “If Prairie Avenue is closer, perhaps we should have the driver drop you off first and then I’ll continue on to my aunt’s house.”

  “I can’t determine if you’ll be safe at your aunt’s house without personally assessing the situation.”

  Beatrix waved that aside. “For goodness’ sake, Norman, my mother is hardly likely to send me off to stay with a mad relative, even if she is rather put out with me at the moment.”

  Norman arched a brow. “You lent me the impression you enjoy a lovely relationship with your mother. Why is she put out with you?”

  “It’s not unusual for mothers to occasionally become put out with their daughters.”

  “My mother is never put out with my two sisters. They always seem to be in complete accord with one another, but again, why is your mother put out with you?”

  “Aren’t we almost there yet?”

  He consulted his pocket watch. “We have approximately twenty-four minutes before we arrive at your aunt’s house.” He tucked his watch away. “That means you have plenty of time for an explanation.”

  She blew out a breath. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you the story behind me being banished from New York.”

  “You’ve been banished?”

  “For lack of a better word, yes. My mother, you see, became exasperated with me after I managed to get myself arrested while marching with hundreds of fellow suffragists through the streets of New York . . . and arrested twice, at that.”

  Norman blinked, just once. “You were arrested twice?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He frowned. “You do realize that it’s a futile movement, don’t you? The majority of women enjoy having men take care of them, and men enjoy taking care of their women. Because of that, the movement is doomed to failure, which means you would be better off to find a different, less volatile cause.”

  “And to that I would say this—men have all the say in our lives especially after a woman g
ets married. They have complete control over our finances, unless a woman is fortunate enough to have a father who has some wealth and foresight in setting up a separate account for his daughter, but most women don’t have that luxury. Men also have the final say in where we live, how we deal with children, and . . . well, I could go on and on. Many women want the right to vote because laws affect us, and yet we have no say in what laws are passed.”

  “And you were willing to get arrested for pushing the right to vote?”

  “It wasn’t as if I planned on getting arrested either time. The first rally was supposed to be a tame affair, but then the police showed up, someone threw something, and the next thing I knew, I was locked behind bars.” She shook her head. “The second time I’d gone to listen to a lecture. After the lecture, some of the women decided to take to the streets, wearing their Votes for Women sashes. I just happened to be trailing after them when yet another ruckus broke out, and before I knew it, I was behind bars again.” She sighed. “After my father posted my bail for the second time, my mother decided I needed a change of scenery.”

  “Your mother must be exceedingly put out with you if she’s making you spend time with Miss Huttleston. I also have to imagine you’re put out with her because of the banishing business.”

  “I don’t blame my mother. And because I’d almost gotten arrested during a frenzied protest about labor conditions in Five Points a few months before I actually got arrested those two times, my mother had good reason to be concerned.” Beatrix winced. “And then if you add in what happened with Mr. Thomas Hamersley, I really can’t claim to be surprised that my mother bought me a train ticket and sent me west.”

  “Who is Mr. Hamersley?”

  She rubbed a hand over her face. “I wasn’t intending on telling you about him, but he’s a friend of mine, and not of the romantic sort.”

  “Is that because Mr. Hamersley no longer views you in a romantic way after you got arrested? Not that I would blame him for that,” Norman continued before Beatrix could respond. “No gentleman wants to court a woman with progressive ideas and an arrest record.”

  Beatrix’s lips thinned before she gave a sharp rap on the ceiling of the cab, which brought the cab to a smart stop a moment later.

  “Why did you stop the cab?” Norman asked.

  “Because the only way I’m going to be able to resist pulling out my pistol purse again is to remove myself from your company.” She reached for the door. “I imagine now is the perfect time for me to try that running business you mentioned earlier.”

  “You can’t run all the way to your aunt’s house,” Norman argued. “You don’t even know where she lives.”

  “Given that my aunt seems to have quite the reputation, I’m sure someone will be able to point me in the right direction. And with that, allow me to say good-bye.” Ignoring the protest Norman called after her, Beatrix hopped from the cab, told the driver to take Norman to Prairie Avenue, then set off down the road at a good clip.

  “You’re not wearing shoes that are conducive to a brisk excursion. You’re certain to develop numerous blisters,” Norman said, loping up beside her.

  She picked up her pace, something that had Norman picking up his pace, as the hansom cab followed them from a few yards behind.

  “Normally when a person bids another person good-bye, it’s a cue that their time together has come to an end,” she said, increasing her pace again, which he met with ease.

  “I’m not letting you go to your aunt’s house unaccompanied.”

  “I’ve traveled all the way from New York unaccompanied. I’m perfectly capable of making the last mile or so of my journey on my own.”

  Norman stopped in his tracks, a wonderful opportunity, as far as Beatrix was concerned, to put some distance between herself and the annoying man. Unfortunately, she’d barely made it half a block before he was at her side again.

  “You never explained why you were traveling alone. Was I correct in assuming your family did not have the funds to hire a traveling companion to travel with you?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that it’s not acceptable to question a person about their finances?”

  “I believe every one of my decorum instructors mentioned that at some point in time.”

  “And yet you’ve apparently decided to ignore that particular rule even though, clearly, I don’t care to discuss my financial situation with you.” She slowed her pace and ignored that she was already developing a blister on her heel. “But to answer your original question before you take to pestering me, I was traveling alone because the lady who was supposed to accompany me to Chicago came down with a nasty stomach ailment.”

  “Was she one of your friends?”

  Beatrix decided it would take far too much effort to explain to Norman that Miss Munn was more of a casual acquaintance of Beatrix’s who’d been hired by her mother for the sole purpose of accompanying Beatrix to Chicago. Or that Miss Munn had only agreed to the position because she’d recently experienced a disappointment of the heart. Or that her sudden “stomach ailment” might have been a direct result of a certain gentleman by the name of Mr. James Elliott showing up at the train station with flowers in hand after Beatrix’s parents had made their departure. She settled for a nod instead.

  “Do you still consider her a friend?”

  “I wouldn’t abandon any friendship simply because of unforeseen circumstances.”

  “But she left you to travel alone. I imagine if she hadn’t done so, she also would have cautioned you against pulling out your pistol purse, which would have then spared both of us our dramatic experience today.”

  “Miss Munn wouldn’t have been able to dissuade me from threatening that man with my pistol purse, not when I was all but ambushed by that thief and acted instinctively.”

  “I would say you acted impulsively, which is a great deal different from acting instinctively.”

  She stopped walking. “Impulsively, instinctively, they’re not that different.”

  “They are, and before you argue with that, consider that you reacted impulsively when you all but leapt from the hansom cab to dash off to your aunt’s house, when, if you’d acted instinctively, you would have known that it wasn’t a prudent plan because you’re ill equipped to travel such a distance in shoes that have an inappropriate heel on them for strenuous activity.”

  Surging into motion again, she forced herself to keep an even gait, even though the blister on her foot was really beginning to make itself known. “Surely I must be closer to Aunt Gladys’s house,” she muttered.

  “It’s just another two blocks.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” As she strode down the remaining two blocks, she noticed that the lots were getting larger and larger, and she stopped when she caught sight of a tall, wrought-iron fence that seemed to go on for an entire block.

  “That fence surrounds the entirety of Miss Huttleston’s house,” Norman said, stopping beside her. “It’s like a fortress.”

  “A comforting thought since I won’t have to worry about anyone breaking into the house.”

  “Or a worrisome thought because the fence could be there to keep people from escaping.”

  Beatrix glanced to the fence again. “There is that.” She bent down and began unlacing her shoe, tugging it off a second later. Straightening, she handed it to Norman before unlacing her other shoe.

  “Why are you taking your shoes off?”

  “Because I’m getting a blister, and I’ve decided I’ll only get more blisters if I keep my shoes on.”

  “But we’re almost to your aunt’s house.”

  “Which means I won’t have to walk far without my shoes, nor will I aggravate the blister I already have on my foot.”

  Norman took her other shoe from her. “Why didn’t you take your shoes off when your foot first started hurting?”

  “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing you were right.”

  She wasn’t certain, but i
t almost seemed as if Norman’s lips twitched. “I see.”

  “I’m sure you do.” With that, she strode forward, enjoying the feel of the cool cobblestones under her feet, which helped to diminish the pain in her heel.

  As she traveled alongside the wrought-iron fence, she got a glimpse of an imposing house sitting back from the road, one that was almost completely obscured by the many trees scattered about the front lawn. Coming to a stop when she reached an iron gate that wouldn’t have been out of place guarding a fortress, she gave the gate a rattle. “How do you suppose we get in?”

  Norman nodded to a plaque Beatrix hadn’t notice. “It says Pull the bell string.”

  “So it does.” Beatrix moved to a black rope that was attached to an iron post, gave it a yank, then smiled when a resounding gong sounded from the vicinity of the house. “How clever.”

  “It is clever,” Norman said, eyeing the bell string. “It must run across the yard, and look, the gate is opening.”

  Directing her attention to the gate, she shuddered a bit when the wind took that moment to whip up, sending branches on a nearby tree scratching against the iron fence. It was an eerie sound and sent a sense of foreboding swirling through her.

  Blowing out a breath, she nodded to Norman. “You really don’t need to come with me. I’m sure I’ll be . . . fine.”

  “I’m not leaving you now,” Norman said, taking her arm and then walking with her through the gate and down a gravel path, the gravel causing her to wince with every step.

  “You should put these back on,” he said, handing over her shoes.

  “I’m not putting them on. They were killing my feet,” Beatrix said, coming to a stop before she reached the covered porch to look the house over.

  It was an imposing structure almost completely covered in ivy. Three stories high, it sported two turrets on either side of the house, as well as intricately paned windows, light pouring from many of them. Shifting her attention to the covered porch, she watched as the front door slowly opened, revealing the large form of a man.