Storing Up Trouble

by Jen Turano

  “You’re a menace,” she told the cat before Edgar stepped in, scooped Phantom up, and strode from the room, the other cats following a second later.

  She shook her head and returned her attention to Norman, who’d yet to say another word and was still staring at her with wide eyes.

  “I forgot you’re sensitive to the cats,” she said, which didn’t earn her so much as a blink from Norman in return.

  “I should have had Edgar close them off in a room before you arrived,” she tried again, earning a single blink from Norman, who continued to remain mute.

  She took a step closer to him. “Are you all right?”

  He lowered the scarf and frowned. “Hard to say.”

  “Are you having a reaction to the cats?”

  He shook his head, then shook it again, quite as if he thought the shaking might resolve the issue. “It’s not the cats,” he finally said. “I’m having a reaction to you.”

  “What type of reaction?”

  “One that has me feeling as if I’ve been struck by one of the electrical currents I’ve been trying to perfect, all due to your incredibly unexpected appearance.”

  Her lips curved. “My appearance has left you feeling as if you’ve been struck by electricity?”

  “Quite. An unusual sensation to be certain.”

  Warmth began spreading through her. “I do believe you’ve just given me the oddest yet nicest compliment I’ve ever received.”

  Norman tilted his head. “That would suggest you’re feeling somewhat agreeable toward me, which means this might finally be an appropriate time to delve into what I said last week about you joining the family.”

  Beatrix’s pulse kicked up just a notch until she thought about what he’d actually said. “Have you purposefully neglected to broach that topic with me?”

  “Of course I have. You’ve proven yourself to be a lady with a, forgive me, slightly questionable temperament, and I knew right after I told my mother you’d be joining the family that you were annoyed by my proclamation. Because of that, I also knew I’d need to approach the topic with you as delicately as possible, while also wanting to do so when you weren’t annoyed with me.”

  “I haven’t been annoyed with you all week.”

  “Your tone right now suggests differently.”

  Beatrix blew out a breath. “I suppose it does at that.”

  Norman took hold of her hand, brought it to his lips, and placed an unexpected kiss on it. “Which means now is hardly the moment to continue on with this particular conversation.” He smiled. “Your aunt mentioned that you enjoy dancing, so perhaps, after I’ve had the opportunity to waltz you around the dance floor a few times, you’ll be in a less annoyed frame of mind and more amiable to the idea of me broaching the matter again.”

  The thought of Norman waltzing her around caused her pulse to pick up again and also had any annoyance she’d been feeling toward him disappearing in a flash.

  Chapter 31

  It was a night that could certainly see his life changing, especially if he could somehow convince Beatrix that she wanted nothing more than to marry him.

  Granted, he’d not offered her an acceptable proposal of marriage yet, nor had he been expecting to all but declare his intentions to his mother the week before, but ever since he’d done that, he’d been contemplating the idea of marriage . . . frequently. That contemplation had convinced him he truly wanted to marry Beatrix, which meant all that was left to do now was formally ask her for her hand.

  He’d been hoping to do that before they left for the ball, but since he’d apparently made an unexpected muddle of matters, he was going to have to try his hardest to avoid annoying Beatrix again. He didn’t really try to annoy her often, though, it simply seemed to happen whenever he was least expecting it.

  Stepping from the carriage after it came to a stop, Norman held out his hand and helped Beatrix to the ground, another jolt of what certainly felt like electricity traveling through him when she took his arm and gave it a bit of a squeeze.

  “The Palmer House is lovely,” she exclaimed, nodding to the building in front of them. “I’m certainly looking forward to seeing the interior as well as seeing how Chicago society turns itself out for a ball. I imagine Chicago society events are not that different from the ones in New York.”

  Something curious began to stir in the furthest recesses of his mind, but before he could contemplate what that something was, another carriage pulled up, and Stanley stepped out, followed by Constance and her husband, William Michelson.

  Thankfully, his mother was nowhere to be seen.

  “Norman,” Constance called out, taking William’s arm and hurrying up to meet them. “Don’t you look dashing.” She moved closer to Beatrix and grinned. “Beatrix, how lovely you look, and I’m sure you’ll be relieved to learn that my mother has been delayed, something to do with a Pinkerton report that was just delivered to her, which means you’ll be able to enjoy yourself, at least until she arrives.”

  Beatrix returned the grin. “I don’t get the impression your mother is one who’d enjoy a public spectacle, so I’ve not been all that concerned she and I will find ourselves engaged in another spat this evening.” She nodded to William. “And with that out of the way, may I assume this is your husband?”

  “Good heavens, I’m completely neglecting my manners.” Constance turned to her husband. “Beatrix, this is my husband, Mr. William Michelson. William, this is Miss Beatrix Waterbury.”

  After exchanging pleasantries with William, Beatrix turned to Stanley, who immediately took her hand, complimented her, then launched into what seemed to be an interrogation about when Theo was going to be arriving and if Beatrix felt Theo was looking forward to the night ahead with Harvey Cabot.

  Beatrix, who had spoken with Stanley a bit at the lake after his mother stormed off, had very quickly realized Stanley was interested in Theo, and not in a strictly friends sort of way. She nodded to something over Stanley’s shoulder. “Theodosia’s just over there, and yes, she’s with Harvey.”

  “But how does she feel about coming with Harvey?”

  “I can’t disclose what I may know about that to you. Theodosia and I are friends, and friends do not disclose confidences in such a willy-nilly fashion.”

  “Not even a hint?” Stanley pressed.

  “No.”

  Stanley nodded to Norman. “She appears to be very loyal to her friends, a trait I’ll make certain to point out to Mother when she finally arrives.”

  “I appreciate that, Stanley,” Norman returned before he frowned. “Constance mentioned that Mother’s been delayed because of a Pinkerton report. Should I be concerned about that?”

  “I wouldn’t imagine there’s anything to be concerned about, given that Mother has demanded the Pinkertons deliver her reports often,” Stanley said, turning his head ever so discreetly in Theo’s direction before he sucked in a sharp breath. “On my word, she looks like an angel.”

  Norman settled his gaze on Theo. And while he wasn’t certain she resembled an angel, she was looking quite unlike herself.

  Dressed in the gown he’d selected for her with the help of five saleswomen at Marshall Field & Company, Theo was looking very well turned out indeed.

  The ivory silk shimmered under the gas lamps, a direct result of the beads that one of the saleswomen insisted would have Theo standing out from many of the other ladies who would be in attendance at the ball. That the gown seemed to fit her to perfection suggested Theo had taken his advice and allowed Gladys and her many friends to alter the fit instead of Theo taking a knife to it.

  Her hair, while still short, was arranged in a very feminine, very un-Theo-like style with curls all over her head and a tiara nestled amidst them.

  “Harvey seems to be paying Theodosia far too much attention,” Stanley said, and even though Beatrix tried to snag his arm, she missed, allowing Stanley to stride away, Theo in his sights.

  “We should join them,” Beatrix sa
id firmly, taking Norman’s arm and tugging him after his brother.

  By the time they reached Theo, Stanley had a hold of Theo’s gloved hand, raising it to his lips as her face turned pink. Norman shot a look to Harvey and found him looking rather disgruntled. But Miss Amelia Burden, who was on the arm of Mr. Clement Moore, was not paying Mr. Moore, Theo, or Harvey the least little mind because her attention was firmly settled on Beatrix.

  “Miss Waterbury,” Miss Burden exclaimed, releasing Mr. Moore’s arm as she stepped forward, her gaze running over Beatrix’s gown. “What a delightful frock you’re wearing. Did you purchase that at Marshall Field & Company, using the discount I’ve heard employees are given?”

  Beatrix smiled even as a storm brewed in her eyes, something that should have terrified Miss Burden if she’d actually seen it, but her attention was still on Beatrix’s gown. “While I certainly would have used my discount if I’d been in need of a gown, I didn’t purchase it there.”

  Miss Burden’s head snapped up. “Wherever did you purchase it, then?”

  Beatrix ignored her and turned her attention to Theo, who was still standing remarkably close to Stanley. “Theodosia, you look stunning this evening.” She nodded to Harvey. “Good evening, Mr. Cabot.”

  Harvey inclined his head. “Miss Waterbury.”

  Beatrix then sent a pointed look to Mr. Clement Moore, which Harvey missed because he was now frowning at Stanley, who was still holding Theo’s hand.

  Stepping forward, Norman performed the introductions, relieved when Gladys and Edgar joined them. Edgar’s appearance earned a quirk of a brow from Harvey before he all but pulled Theo away from Stanley, telling her it was past time they made their way through the receiving line.

  “This is going to be such a delightful evening,” Gladys proclaimed as everyone began making their way into the Palmer House. Miss Burden all but left Mr. Moore behind as she fell into step beside Beatrix, her less-than-subtle attempts to discover where Beatrix had gotten her dress, or more important, how Beatrix had been able to afford such a lovely dress, causing the tempest in Beatrix’s eyes to increase.

  As soon as they joined the receiving line, Norman couldn’t help but notice the whispers behind gloved hands, all of which were directed at Beatrix, who didn’t seem concerned she was the object of speculation. She merely began inclining her head at all the whisperers, earning scandalized looks in return, which left her grinning.

  “Aunt Gladys was right,” she said, turning her grin on him. “This is going to be a delightful evening.”

  Moving through the grand hall and rotunda, Beatrix peppered him with questions about the hotel, which he tried to answer to the best of his abilities, but other than knowing that the hotel they were in was the second Palmer House, the first having burned to the ground during the great Chicago Fire of ’71, Norman didn’t have much more to tell her.

  “One would think that since you grew up in Chicago, you’d know more about this place,” Beatrix complained after he admitted he had no idea how many people claimed Palmer House as their permanent residence, something Beatrix had apparently read about in a newspaper.

  “Oh, look,” she exclaimed, nodding up ahead as they joined the throng of guests in the receiving line. “There’s the ballroom, although it’s officially called the dining hall, something I’m sure you didn’t know.”

  He smiled. “But I’ve now committed that tidbit to memory and will never forget again.”

  She returned the smile. “You can pull it out if you’re ever in need of a topic for idle chitchat, although . . .” Her smile dimmed. “You seem to be becoming most adept at idle chitchat, even with you claiming when you first met me that you don’t care for that particular activity.”

  He gave her arm a squeeze. “I’ve had a change of heart about that. I’ve discovered that chatting is not the trial I imagined it to be and actually find it to be most enjoyable.”

  Beatrix blinked. “Do you really?”

  “Indeed,” Norman said before he pulled her forward to greet Mr. Potter Palmer and his wife, Bertha.

  Bertha Palmer considered Beatrix very closely as Norman performed the introductions, and then surprised him when she leaned closer to Beatrix and whispered into her ear.

  To his relief, Beatrix exchanged smiles with Bertha before she began tugging him toward the ballroom.

  “What did Mrs. Palmer say to you?” he asked.

  “She wanted to know if we’d met before, and I told her we had, and then told her where.”

  Norman slowed to a stop. “Where could you have possibly met Mrs. Palmer?”

  “New York, during a performance at the Metropolitan Opera House.” Beatrix pulled him back into motion again, not slowing her pace until she swept through the door leading to the ballroom. Coming to a stop, she glanced around. “I had no idea it would be so lavishly decorated.” She nodded to a nearby table draped in fine linen and set with china. “That’s Mrs. Palmer’s prized French Haviland bone china, which she acquired on one of her European trips.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because all the large plates are engraved with a gilded P in the center. I read about the plates in a series the Chicago Tribune has been running about the Palmers.”

  “Interesting, but if we could return to you, Mrs. Palmer, and the opera, under what circumstances were you presented to each other, and—”

  Whatever else Norman wanted to ask got lost when a lady suddenly began waving enthusiastically to Beatrix from halfway across the ballroom.

  “Izzie!” Beatrix exclaimed before she surged into motion, leaving Norman behind.

  A moment later, Beatrix was being hugged by the lady she’d called Izzie before a large gentleman took Izzie’s place, scooping Beatrix into a hug and earning a laugh from her in return.

  “Beatrix knows Ian and Isadora MacKenzie?” Stanley asked, stepping directly beside Norman.

  “Who?” Norman asked.

  “Ian and Isadora MacKenzie,” Stanley repeated. “Ian MacKenzie is an attorney who practices in Pittsburgh, but he’s recently come to Chicago at the request of the union men to help with negotiations that may see the union men abandoning their determination to strike.”

  “Ian MacKenzie is a lawyer for union men?”

  Stanley nodded. “Father and I are actually meeting with him on Monday, and you’re more than welcome to join us. He used to be an attorney for the steel owners and investors, but he had a change of heart months ago and now only represents the interests of the laborers who work in the Pittsburgh factories. He’s acquiring the reputation of being a man capable of successfully negotiated terms between the two sides. After I learned he was coming to town to speak with the union men, I reached out and invited him to a meeting.” Stanley shook his head. “I’m curious, though, how Beatrix knows them. Ian MacKenzie, from all accounts, is a self-made man, which is why more than a few eyebrows were raised when he married Isadora. She’s an American heiress and a member of the New York Four Hundred. Given that she’s holding Beatrix’s hand, I have to assume they’re some manner of friends.” Stanley frowned. “How do you imagine it came to be that Beatrix is friends with a member of the New York Four Hundred?”

  Norman returned the frown. “I have no idea, although—”

  “What in the world are you doing here, girl?” a voice boomed through the crowd as a path opened amidst the guests, revealing a society matron, her face mottled with outrage as she, unfortunately, advanced on Beatrix.

  Any thought of the New York Four Hundred or why Beatrix seemed to be friends with one of its members disappeared in a flash as Norman strode into motion, determined to intervene on Beatrix’s behalf, no matter if he was going to end up insulting a Chicago matron in the process.

  Chapter 32

  Beatrix noticed a distinct increase in the number of people whispering around her, but she didn’t pay them any mind, not when she’d been given the unexpected delight of being reunited with her very best friend, the former Mis
s Isadora Delafield, now Mrs. Ian MacKenzie.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “And where are the children, and how did I not know you’d be coming to Chicago?”

  Isadora grinned. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” She turned to Ian, her grin replaced with a fond smile. “Ian’s reputation as an advocate for laborers and unions has increased significantly over the past few months. That’s why, when he received a letter from a Chicago union, asking if he’d be willing to travel here to help them resolve some issues that might spare this city a strike of significant proportions, he didn’t hesitate to accept.”

  Beatrix smiled at Ian. “Seems to me as if you’ve certainly found your proper calling in life, Ian. May I assume you’re enjoying representing the workers over representing the interests of the owners and investors of the steel mills and iron foundries?”

  Ian returned the smile. “Indeed you may, and Isadora’s been enjoying her work with the new orphanage we built in Canonsburg.” He shook his head. “She was somewhat reluctant to set aside that work to travel with me to Chicago, until I reminded her that you were visiting your aunt here.”

  “I couldn’t very well ignore an opportunity to see my best friend,” Isadora said, turning to Beatrix. “Before I forget, the children wanted me to tell you that they’re awfully sad they couldn’t come to Chicago with us to see you. They’re also awfully put out with Ian and me because we didn’t believe it would be responsible to let them miss school, which is why they’re back in Pittsburgh under the watchful eye of Aunt Birdie, the indulgent eye of Uncle Amos, and the soon-to-be-leaving eye of their governess, Miss Olive.” Isadora blew out a breath. “I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear that she is soon to marry Ian’s man of affairs, Mr. Jonathon Downing.”

  “How delightful,” Beatrix said. “But I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty finding another governess for the children. Prim, Henry, Violet, and Daisy are adorable, and any governess would be lucky to have them as her charges.”