The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1) (6 page)

Freddie sighed. “I’m not suggesting your father was a robber baron,
Engie
. I think he was a good man, too. I’m just pointing out that, carried to an extreme, your plans for social reform may require you to sacrifice this ivy-covered, red-brick mansion of yours, not to mention your townhouse in the city, and move down to
Polk Street
with the immigrant factory workers.”

Evangeline looked away, somewhat abashed by the turn the conversation had taken. “I do what I can to help at Mast House, Freddie. You know I do. It’s not so much I mind that fortunes are built, or that inequities exist. I’m fatalistic enough to believe they always will. I just wish there was less
pretence
in all of it. I just wish the ‘whited sepulchers’ of this city stopped believing that by covering plaster facades with spray paint, they’re also covering a multitude of sins.”

She paused a moment, pensively looking off into space. A vague smile began to form as she refocused her attention on the young man seated across from her. “As for selling everything I have and giving it all to the poor... well, everybody knows I’m eccentric, but I’m certainly not that crazy.”

Apparently satisfied that the verbal storm had spent itself,
Blackthorne
ventured to speak at last. “Given your feelings on the subject of the World’s Fair,
Engie
, I withdraw my request. At least promise me the first dance at the Hunt Club Ball next Saturday.”

Realizing that her strong opinion about the exposition might have been interpreted as a graceless refusal of his invitation, Evangeline tried to soothe what she presumed were
Blackthorne’s
injured feelings. “Why, of course. How could I say no? Especially since you’ve asked so charmingly. You may rest assured that yours will be the first name written on my dance card.” Freddie was disgusted by her uncharacteristic display of graciousness.

Blackthorne
laughed and placed his hand over his heart. “Now my life is complete.”

To Freddie’s continued discomfort, Evangeline further tried to make amends. “But where are my manners? I’ve ignored you shamefully. Why don’t you come and sit by me?” She patted the seat next to her invitingly. “Can I offer you another cup of tea?”

Seemingly overcome with pleasure by the honor thus conferred,
Blackthorne
wasted no time in seating himself on the loveseat beside Evangeline and helping himself to some walnut mayonnaise sandwiches.

The little party remained silent a few seconds before the new arrival tentatively started the conversation in a different direction. “You’ve been well, then?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” Evangeline offered
Blackthorne
a plate of seed cake.

“Oh, I thought perhaps with Simpson being here, that you might have been in need of some sort of assistance...”

“No.” Evangeline smiled engagingly. “It was nothing like that. I only wanted to thank him for attending a funeral with me.”

“A funeral! Good God! No more of your family, I hope!”

“No, no, nothing like that...” Evangeline hesitated. “It was just... just someone I rather considered a friend.”

“Please allow me to offer my condolences,
Engie
. Was it anyone I know?”

“I hardly think so.” Freddie cut in from the other side of the tea table. “It was one of Evangeline’s students at Mast House. Not the sort of person you’d be likely to meet. It was the girl who was found dead last weekend at the Templar House.”

“Really! The one who was murdered?”

“Do you know of any young girls found dead there last weekend of natural causes?”

Blackthorne
ignored the comment. “I had no idea you were on close terms with any of your students,
Engie
. How well did you know her?”

Freddie cut in again. “She was a particular favorite. Great things were expected of her.”

“Great things?”
Blackthorne
echoed.

“I’m perfectly able to answer questions for myself, Freddie,” Evangeline shot back irritably. Freddie knew the danger of antagonizing her when her voice reached that particular pitch, and so he remained still.

“She showed special promise, and I had some hope of moving her into better employment in time.”

“I see...”
Blackthorne
digested that fact for a full minute. “But surely, given the circumstances in which she was found, I would hardly consider her a worthy object for your charity.”

Evangeline’s temper flared. “And what right have you to judge a girl you’ve never met? A murdered person is generally considered the victim, not the perpetrator, of a crime.”

Looking flustered,
Blackthorne
tried to repair the damage his words had caused. “
Engie
, you must forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

She cut in recklessly, “And no one has a right to say anything until after we’ve positively identified the murderer!”

Freddie rolled his eyes and said
sotto voce
, “Well, that’s done it, old girl. The cat’s completely out of the bag now.”

Blackthorne’s
dark complexion became pallid with shock. He stared at her speechless for several seconds. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Someone’s already been arrested for the crime. Her own brother, in fact.”

“I’m not convinced that he’s the only possible suspect. I went to speak to him to hear his side of things.”

Blackthorne’s
pallor became a shade chalkier. “Did I understand you correctly? You went to visit a man in prison? A man very likely to be indicted for murder?”

“Not to worry, old man. I’m always nearby to protect her from getting into some really awful scrape.”

Blackthorne
contemplated Freddie as if he were a particularly loathsome insect. “You have no idea how much comfort that thought gives me.” He made scant attempt to conceal the sarcasm in his voice. Standing up decisively, he towered over Evangeline. “Forgive me for being so blunt, my dear, but this was an ill-considered thing to do. You gave no thought to what sort of danger you might have been facing by pursuing this mad scheme of yours!”

“On the contrary,” Freddie retorted, “you haven’t known her as long as I have. You have no idea what she’s capable of when she’s decided on a really mad scheme. This was one of her tamer plans.”

Apparently having ventured into deeper waters than she intended, Evangeline retreated from the topic. “Oh, Jonathan, you mustn’t carry on so. No harm was done. I merely needed to satisfy my curiosity.” She affected a brittle laugh.

The expression on
Blackthorne’s
face didn’t change. “And on the basis of your discussion with this man, you believe him to be innocent?”

Evangeline fell back a bit more. “Well, I’m not sure of that either, but it seems someone ought to look into the matter further.”

Blackthorne
persisted. “I take it that this ‘someone’ would be you and Simpson?”

Evangeline’s shrug was a calculated gesture of nonchalance. “Well, that is the plan, yes. But at this point the likelihood of success appears about as promising as finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Indeed.”
Blackthorne
never took his eyes away from her face. His own face had become a mask. “You must keep me posted of your progress.”

She laughed to break the tension. “This conversation has become entirely too morbid, not at all fit matter for a parlor at tea time. Do sit down here beside me and tell me all the gossip from town instead.” She reached up, inviting him to take her hand.

Blackthorne
made no move to touch her. “No, I am obliged to you, but I mustn’t stay any longer.” He turned abruptly toward the door. “It’s time I paid my respects at home, anyway.” With that, he made a hasty departure and left his rival in possession of the field.

Freddie yawned lazily. “If you keep on at this rate,
Engie
, the only ones who won’t know our plan are the police and your imaginary murderer.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks, Freddie! I managed to salvage things just in time, didn’t I? Besides, Jonathan is harmless.”

Chapter 5—The Caged Sparrow

The factory whistle shrieked promptly at noon on Saturday. Unlike every other day of the week, on Saturday, noon meant quitting time. The gates of the Van
Ryn
garment factory opened to disgorge an assortment of women and girls all fluttering away like pigeons released from a coop. Evangeline observed them from a carriage across the street. The flock dispersed quickly, unwilling to spend a minute longer than the requisite fifty-five hours per week on company grounds. As the crowd thinned, Evangeline searched the remaining faces for Patsy. She had nearly given up hope of finding her when she noticed one small figure straggling last through the gate.

Unlike her coworkers, Patsy seemed to be dawdling as if she were waiting to meet someone. Evangeline motioned to her driver to walk across the street and collect the girl. Patsy stood near the gate, shifting her weight uncertainly from one leg to the other. She stepped back a few paces when she saw the strange man approaching her.

Evangeline watched the pantomime as it unfolded—Patsy backing away, the man raising his hand, motioning her to wait. When he got closer to her, he bent down to whisper something, probably Evangeline’s name because Patsy immediately smiled and nodded. The two walked across the street to the carriage where Evangeline sat.

“Forgive me for not meeting you personally, my dear,” Evangeline said as Patsy climbed in and sat opposite her. “But I wanted to be as discreet as possible. That’s why I had Jack bring me around in the carriage. In case you haven’t been formally introduced, Patsy, the disreputable fellow who just accosted you is Jack. Today he’s playing the role of driver, but he’s usually the caretaker of my townhouse. Jack, say hello to the young lady.”

“Hello, little miss. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Jack tipped his hat to Patsy and flashed a smile that revealed a gold front tooth before he shut the door of the brougham and climbed back up into the driver’s seat. Without any further instruction, he turned the horse about in a northerly direction and proceeded up the street.

Evangeline smiled in secret amusement at Patsy’s sense of awe. The girl was no doubt agog at the wonder of being seated in a fine carriage with soft leather seats and at having been called “Miss” by someone who was an official caretaker of a townhouse.

“The need for discretion continues, Patsy. That’s why I am whisking you away in a covered vehicle to a place where we can talk without fear of discovery.”

Patsy looked breathless with excitement at the prospect of a ride to some mysterious destination. She seemed to have momentarily forgotten the consequences of her mother’s wrath if her escapade were ever discovered.

“That was very clever of you to come out of the factory last. I had instructed Jack to intercept you if you came out early and to pretend to detain you by asking for directions until all your companions had left. That would have prevented anyone from taking too much notice of your movements.”

Patsy smiled broadly. “I told my friends that the forelady wanted to talk to me about overtime, and I sent them on ahead. That way, if ma hunts one of them down and asks where I’m at, they’ll tell her I’m still at work.”

“I’m sure your mama would be pleased at the prospect of your working longer hours since she, herself, doesn’t contribute to the family income.” Evangeline tried to keep an edge of irony out of her voice, but her emphasis on the second syllable of “mama” had become pronounced.

The irony was lost on Patsy whose reply was solemn, “Oh, yes. With Elsa and Franz gone, ma is really worried about money now. It’s just me and pa and...,” Patsy hesitated. “And he doesn’t work regular hours much. Just yesterday ma was wringing her hands and saying she doesn’t know what will become of us without those extra paychecks. She said she would be willing to make... to make... ,” Patsy knit her brows trying to recall her mother’s exact words, “‘the ultimate sacrifice.’ That was it. The ‘ultimate sacrifice’ was how she put it. She said she’d be willing to go to work herself, but with her being so busy running the affairs of the household and all, she doesn’t see how she could do it.”

“The affairs to be ordered in your little home must be time-consuming indeed.”

Again, the irony of the statement was lost on Patsy. “It must be if ma says so. Anyway, I tried to think of something to help. I asked her why didn’t she just take in washing like Mrs. O’Neal down the street? That way she could stay home and keep an eye on the boys and still bring in some money for the family.”

“What a practical suggestion. And what did your mama say to that?”

Patsy’s lips drew downward as if she were trying to fathom an extremely complicated puzzle. “Well, at first she couldn’t say anything because she lost her breath and she had to keep taking big gulps of air. Then she boxed me on the ear and told me to keep such outlandish notions to myself.”

“I see.” Evangeline struggled to keep from laughing outright. After she had subdued her rebellious facial muscles, she changed the subject. “Can you guess where we’re going, Patsy?”

“Why, no. Indeed I can’t, miss.”

“Look out the window.”

By now, the scenery had shifted from the feudal strongholds of the factory district to something less grim but equally commercial. The street they were traveling was
aswarm
with carriages, pedestrians, streetcars, delivery wagons, and the cries of newsboys on every corner.

“Do you know where you are now?” Evangeline prompted.

Patsy’s eyes were round with wonder. “No, I surely don’t, Miss
Engie
. I’ve never seen a place like this before.”

“Have you never heard of
State Street
?”

“Oh!” Patsy gasped. “Is that what this place is? I’ve heard about it, but I never saw it before. It’s like a fairy tale!”

Evangeline was amused at Patsy’s lyrical description of a place that was less than two miles from the slum where she lived. “Well, it’s not the
Champs Elysees
, but it will do very well for a start.”

Patsy was leaning halfway out the carriage, intent on absorbing every passing sight.

Evangeline thought to herself that anyone traveling downtown at midday on a Saturday must either be a fool or have a serious purpose in mind. The congestion of the traffic on the city’s busiest street made the carriage’s progress painfully slow. Even though the day was sunny, the air was murky from the smoke of the city’s coal-burning furnaces. Everyone on the sidewalk, however, seemed to take the noise, smoke, and elbowing as a matter of course. Pedestrians bustled along from store to store, all the while dodging streetcars, horses, and each other.

Patsy’s eyes grew even rounder. She bounced from one side of the carriage to the other like an eager spaniel puppy, apparently afraid that if she confined herself to a single side she might miss something significant on the other. She pointed out mothers with perambulators inching along the overcrowded sidewalk, businessmen nattily dressed in gray flannel and bowler hats, tradesman in shirt sleeves, and the ever-present street sweepers in white uniforms and caps.

“Oh, look at that lady, Miss
Engie
! Have you ever seen a hat like that before!” The girl gestured toward a woman wearing a creation topped by a monstrous ostrich plume.

Evangeline laughed. “Unfortunately I have, my dear, and too frequently to suit my taste.”

Patsy bounced back to the other window. She presented a running commentary to Evangeline, prefacing every sentence by “Oh, just look at that!”

At the corner of State and
Madison
, a tangle of traffic stopped Evangeline’s carriage. She poked her head out of the window to assess the problem. A policeman was blowing his whistle and trying to redirect traffic around a streetcar that had stalled right in the middle of the intersection.

Evangeline called up to Jack, “Let us out here. We’ll walk the rest of the way. Meet us at the back entrance to Campion’s at two o’clock sharp.”

“Yes, miss,” the coachman answered wryly. “Though with this mess, it could take me just that long to make the corner of Wabash and
Washington
.”

“I rely on your resourcefulness.” Evangeline smiled encouragingly as he helped the two alight.

Jack tipped his hat in a gesture that was half respectful and half playful before climbing back up to his seat.

It was only an additional block to the imposing edifice that was the Campion and Leiter Department Store, known as Campion’s for short. The store took up a full city block and reached a height of six stories. Evangeline frequently shopped at the emporium, since it contained everything from a meat market to a beauty parlor with all manner of merchandise in-between. While the store had originally catered to the well-to-do, Messrs. Campion and Leiter had wisely established a wholesale market so that the store could lure customers from every class to buy its wares. With the additional attraction of the World’s Fair to spur business, Campion’s had become a landmark that foreign visitors had to see before they could consider their tour of
Chicago
complete.

Evangeline and Patsy finally arrived at their destination, though Evangeline had to keep a close watch over her young charge to be sure they weren’t separated by the press of the crowd gawking at the display windows. With Patsy in tow, Evangeline opened the door to Campion’s main floor and entered the palace of mercantile delights. Patsy stood dumbly at her side. The effect of so much splendor had rendered her speechless. Evangeline took her by the arm to steer her down to the lower level where the restaurant was located.

Patsy followed along, but her head was turned over her shoulder to absorb the endless aisles of ladies’ dresses and hats and jewelry on display.

“Mind the stairs,” Evangeline cautioned, fearful that in the girl’s rapture she might tumble headlong down to the basement.

Patsy focused her attention on the feat of navigation before her. When they had descended without mishap, she exclaimed, “My heavens, Miss
Engie
, I didn’t think there were so many fine things in all the world, much less all collected in one store!”

“I think you’ll find, Patsy, that this is just a small sample of what the stores in this city have to offer. Multiply that by the stores of all the cities in this country and in the world, and the quantity becomes more immense that the imagination can fully encompass.”

“
Ohhhh
!” was Patsy’s awestruck reply.

The two proceeded into the store dining room. They were offered menus by a solicitous waiter dressed in black with a napkin slung over his arm. “And what would the ladies have?”

Evangeline was scanning the menu when she looked up and noticed Patsy blushing furiously. The girl stammered, “Miss... Miss
Engie
...”

Evangeline said to the waiter, “Give us a few more minutes, please.”

“Certainly,
madame
.” He bowed and scurried off to wait on another table.

“What is it, Patsy?”

The girl refused to look up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t read.” Her voice was filled with embarrassment.

“Ah, I see. It’s no great matter.
Reading
is a skill that can easily be acquired, and for the present moment... ,” she reached across the table to tilt the girl’s chin upward so their eyes met, “I’ll order for you.”

Patsy smiled shyly, apparently trying to overcome her discomfort.

When the waiter returned, Evangeline took command of the situation. “I’ll have the chicken pot pie. The young lady will have a roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy. Isn’t that what you wanted, Patsy?”

“Roast beef... ,” the girl exhaled the words reverently. Catching herself, she added, “Oh yes, that’s right. I’ll have that.”

“Very good,” said the waiter, “and to drink?”

“I’ll have tea, preferably
Darjeeling
, and the young lady will have a glass of milk.”

The waiter hastened back to the kitchen to place the order.

After he left, Evangeline asked in a low voice, “Why didn’t you learn to read, Patsy? I’m sure Elsa would have taught you. I know that she taught herself with a little help from Mast House.”

“She tried to teach me once.” The girl seemed disturbed after she let the words escape. “Ma caught us one night working over the alphabet, and she threw the copybook into the stove. She said she didn’t want me ruining my eyes over letters like Elsa had done. She said I should save them for the sewing work because I get paid for that.”

“I see.” Evangeline sighed dejectedly. “And just how long have you been working in a factory, Patsy?”