In the Company of Secrets (29 page)
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 lies. 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.’’
Olivia removed Charlotte’s gloves from her reticule and slid her hands inside. She fastened the small buttons at the wrist and straightened her shoulders. ‘‘I couldn’t permit you to spend so much. Furthermore, your mother is spending too many hours already caring for Morgan. It would be unfair to ask more of her. After Charlotte returns—’’
‘‘Yes. We’ll come to the city and have supper during the holidays. Chicago is quite festive then. The stores are richly decorated to entice the shoppers, and more of the buildings for the Columbian Exposition will have been completed by then, too. When the Exposition opens, you must promise to attend with me.’’
‘‘Oh, I would very much enjoy that. I’ve been hearing bits and pieces of information from hotel visitors about the plans and expectations. It all sounds so grand and exciting.’’ She placed her hand in the crook of Fred’s arm, and they entered the lobby.
Though the outside of the enormous auditorium was of a simplistic design, Olivia gasped as a formally attired attendant led them into the extravagantly decorated theater and directed them to their seats. Her attention was immediately drawn to the ceiling, where majestic arches, highlighted with gold leaf, and plaster reliefs, inlaid with carbon-filament lamps, gleamed like mellow gold and gave the entire theater a luminescent glow.
‘‘What do you think? This is quite a place, isn’t it?’’
‘‘Oh, Fred. I thought Mr. Pullman’s theater was magnificent. But it pales in comparison.’’ She quickly placed her gloved fingers to her lips. ‘‘I hope nobody heard me say that.’’
Fred laughed. ‘‘I doubt we’ll see anyone we know, and if they dislike our remarks about George Pullman, let them tell him. He won’t suspect they came from us. He wouldn’t believe any of his factory workers could afford such a fine place as this.’’
She patted his arm. ‘‘Do give him credit for providing the town with a wonderful theater, Fred.’’
‘‘I’ll agree the theater is very nice, but we’re not going to discuss work or Mr. Pullman any further this evening. Agreed?’’ He grinned and then pointed out the elliptical arches situated throughout the theater. ‘‘Those arches are beautiful, but would you believe there are ducts concealed inside that carry steam heat in the winter and cool air in the summer so the theater always remains comfortable?’’
Olivia thought he must be teasing her. ‘‘Surely not. How could they possibly cool such a place as this?’’
‘‘It’s true. The ducts carry cooled air that has been passed across blocks of ice that are sprayed with water. Rather ingenious and much more comfortable than sitting in a stifling, overheated building in midsummer.’’
Fred was impressed with the construction and mechanics of the vast building while Olivia marveled at the intricate architectural design. On the back of their programs, Olivia discovered a reprinting of the newspaper article that had been published regarding the opening night at the theater on October 2, 1889.
While fastidiously attired couples made their way into the theater, Olivia pointed to a sentence midway down the page. ‘‘Look at this, Fred. It says that on opening night the sidewalks around the building were carpeted, gaslit, and covered with a canopy for the over five thousand guests in attendance. Even President Harrison was in the audience.’’ She looked about the theater in wonder. ‘‘Just imagine. I’m attending the same theater as did the president of the United States.’’
He chuckled and tapped the program. ‘‘And don’t forget the mayor, the governor, and the vice-president. From the sound of it, this place is nearly fine enough for the two of us.’’
The lights dimmed and voices hushed as the curtain opened and the play began. Even from their seats in the upper gallery, Fred and Olivia could hear the performers’ voices with perfect clarity. The acting was magnificent and the costumes delightful. Olivia was enthralled and sat with rapt attention. Never before had she seen such a brilliant performance.
During the intermission, Fred purchased coffee, and they sat at a small table in the lobby, discussing the first acts of the presentation and watching the many theater attendees milling about and purchasing refreshments.
When the play had ended and the final applause quieted, the crowd slowly migrated toward the exits with murmurs of approval on their lips. As they descended the wide staircase to the lobby, Olivia took Fred’s arm. She considered the evening a complete success in every aspect.
However, her mood altered when they reached the last stair and she saw Mr. Howard waving from across the lobby. He approached with a determined step. ‘‘Why, Olivia, how wonderful to see you. I thought I captured a glimpse of you from my box shortly after the intermission.’’ Formally attired in black tie and tails, Mr. Howard seemed to assess Fred’s dark blue suit before turning his full attention back to Olivia.
‘‘I’d like the two of you to join me for a late evening dessert and coffee at the Grand Pacific Hotel dining room.’’ He tipped his head closer as though he planned to tell them a secret. ‘‘Sometimes the actors come to the hotel dining room after their performances and visit. I believe you’d find it most enjoyable.’’
Before consulting with her, Fred offered regrets and mentioned their need to get home due to Morgan. But Mr. Howard didn’t give up easily. He offered to arrange for their transportation home at his expense, but Fred adamantly refused to hear of it.
Once they were settled on the train, Fred grew quiet.
‘‘Is something amiss, Fred?’’ Olivia asked.
He rubbed his thick, callused fingers across the back of her hand. ‘‘Mr. Howard is a better choice for you, Olivia. He can give you the things you deserve: a life filled with beautiful gowns, the opportunity to meet famous people and attend fine parties, and a better future than I ever could.’’ He studied their entwined fingers.
His words pierced her. ‘‘Is
that
what you think of me? That I’m no more than a shallow woman interested only in pretty dresses and parties?’’
Intensity darkened his blue eyes, and he released her hand. ‘‘I never said you were shallow. But it makes sense that most any woman would be interested in making a better marriage than what a Pullman factory worker can offer.’’
‘‘Well, I’m not ‘most any woman,’ Fred. If and when I marry, it will be a marriage based upon love and respect, not upon how much finery my husband can heap upon me throughout my life.’’
He bowed his head for a moment. ‘‘I like that—love and respect. And truthfulness. That’s important, too, don’t you agree?’’
Truth
. Couldn’t love and respect have been enough? Why did he have to add truth? It was almost as though he knew she was hiding something. Or was it her guilt that caused her to question his motives?
She agreed. ‘‘Yes. Truth is very important.’’ She understood that fact more than most. After all, her lies were constantly popping up to wreak havoc in her life. What would Fred do if he knew her truth? If she told him all her secrets, would he consider her a fraud and never want to see her again?
Tell him.
Better sooner than later
. But the tiny voice of encouragement wasn’t quite loud enough. She didn’t want to lose Fred. Should he declare his love for her, she’d tell him then. But doing so now would only complicate matters. It might terminate their relationship completely. A
most
disturbing thought.
Nearly a week had passed since Fred escorted her to the theater, but the images were still vivid in Olivia’s memory as she locked the front door on Friday morning and stood near the railing watching for Martha’s familiar face in the predawn light. The rustling of leaves drew her attention and a trickle of fear inched through her belly. She scanned the nearby foliage but couldn’t see anyone there. Most likely just the wind, she told herself.
She peered down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of Martha. There was no one in sight, yet Martha hadn’t mentioned any change in her work schedule. If she waited any longer, she would be late for work.
The snap of a branch captured her attention, and then a squirrel scampered nearby, as if to ease her fears. After gulping a quick breath, she descended the porch steps and crossed the street. She’d taken only a few strides when fallen leaves and twigs crackled behind her. Before she could turn, an arm wrapped around her body and a hand grabbed for her purse. She clung to the handle, unwilling to turn loose of the handbag or its contents. Only yesterday she’d withdrawn five dollars from the bank to make several purchases at the market after work. She would not easily hand over her hard-earned money.
In a swift, jarring move, she tilted sideways and screamed while fighting to wrest herself from the bruising hold. After several more yelps, she heard the clopping of heavy footsteps and a loud shout. Before she could catch her breath, both she and her assailant toppled to the ground. When she looked over her shoulder, her neighbor Mr. Rice held the fellow in a chokehold.
Olivia scooted away from the two men and squinted. Even in early morning shadows, she could make out the thatch of red hair. ‘‘Eddie!’’
Mr. Rice pulled the young man to his feet. ‘‘What do you think you’re doing, young man? I think I best take you over to the stationhouse in Kensington.’’
Eddie twisted around. ‘‘No, please don’t do that. I’m sorry, Miss Mott. Truly I am. I was just trying to get back at you for losing my job.’’
Olivia detected the fear and anguish in his plea. ‘‘Let me have a few minutes alone with him, Mr. Rice.’’
‘‘Are ya sure?’’
Olivia bobbed her head.
‘‘I’ll watch from across the street, but you holler out if he makes one move toward you.’’
Olivia waited until Mr. Rice was out of earshot. ‘‘You nearly scared me to death, Eddie. And if Mr. Rice hadn’t come out when he did, you would have run off with my purse. Isn’t that the truth?’’
His hair waved in wild abandon as he readily agreed. ‘‘Yes. But I don’t have a job because of you.’’
‘‘
I
wasn’t the reason you were fired, Eddie. You’re the one who stole the liquor.’’
‘‘I know.’’ He bowed his head. ‘‘And I’m paying for what I did. I know I shouldn’t be mad at you. Trouble is, when I apply for a job, they always ask where I worked before. Then they want a recommendation. Of course I don’t have one, since I was fired.’’
Eddie’s need for a recommendation struck a chord that reminded Olivia of the forged letter she’d used to gain employment. God had forgiven her, yet a renewed guilt washed over her. ‘‘I can’t help you in that regard, Eddie, but I’ll agree to let you go if you promise you’ll quit stalking me. Give me your word that you’ll stay away from me and out of Pullman.’’
‘‘You’ve got my word, Miss Mott. You won’t see me around town again.’’ He scratched his head. ‘‘I know I got to suffer the consequences of my wrongdoing. I’m lucky I ain’t in jail.’’
Olivia didn’t know if it was his comment about consequences, the sadness in his eyes, or her own guilty conscience, but she opened her reticule and handed him a dollar. ‘‘It’s not much, but it’s the most I can spare.’’
‘‘Thank you, Miss Mott.’’ He appeared embarrassed, but he tucked the money into his frayed pocket and then glanced across the street. ‘‘I’ll be on my way, if it’s all right.’’
‘‘You go on. I’ll explain to Mr. Rice.’’