What the Lady Wants (18 page)

1879

O
n a cold January evening Delia and Marsh sat before a crackling fireplace in the drawing room at the Field mansion. The flickering firelight danced off the coffered ceiling squares and the room smelled of hickory and pine. Nannie had taken the children back to Europe with her for the winter. Arthur was in New York for a horse show. But Flossie was there, resting on the floor at Delia's feet.

It had been a year, and the rawest of Delia's pain had finally faded. But she still thought about the baby she'd lost all the time. She supposed she'd never really stop grieving. She knew Marsh would always feel the pain of their loss, too, but his way of dealing with it was to throw himself into his work. The last year had been incredible for him. He'd turned an astounding profit, and had invested in more real estate around town. Among his many conquests was the newly rebuilt Singer Building—the very building that they'd occupied before it burned down two years before.
Marsh had persuaded Levi to go along with the purchase and now Field, Leiter & Company was preparing to move from the exposition building on Michigan Boulevard back to State Street.

“That's where all the shopping is. That's where we've got to be.” Marsh leaned in toward the fire, rubbing his hands, palm against palm.

She studied his face and saw that spark of magic flickering behind his eyes. Her pulse quickened when he got like that because she knew that something grand was in the works. She could almost see the future formulating inside his head, gathering strength like a twister. She fed off his creativity as much as he fed off her enthusiasm.

“We have to stay one step ahead of the competition,” he said. “I have it on good authority that Carson Pirie Scott just sublet a building a few doors down from us. Plus, Lord & Taylor and Arnold Constable are looking for space on State Street, too.”

“All the more reason to do something extraordinary with the new store,” she said.

“Exactly. I want us to offer an experience that ladies in this town can't find anywhere else. I want Field, Leiter & Company to be a sophisticated, elegant place to shop with the finest merchandise—items that can't be found anywhere else. Levi doesn't know this yet, but I'm going to gut the whole interior and rebuild it.”

“You're asking for a fight, you know.”

“And I'll win. I always do.” He smiled.

“But wouldn't it be better if you didn't have to fight with him at all? Honestly, I've never understood this partnership of yours.”

“I feel a sense of loyalty toward Levi.”

“Aw, and to think everyone says you're just a cold, hard-nosed businessman.”

“They do?” He looked at her slightly amused, with genuine surprise, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh come now, Marsh,” she said with a laugh. “Don't tell me you don't know you have a reputation as being a wee bit tough when it comes to business.”

He smiled as if he liked the sound of that. “So I have a reputation, do I? But I do have a heart.”

“Oh, yes. For select people—of which I'm pleased to be included—you have a very big heart.” She rested her head on his shoulder and patted his chest. “And Levi is lucky that you've put him in that circle.”

“It's just that Levi and I have built this company together.”

“And we both know he couldn't have gotten it off the ground without you. If I were you, I would have bought him out years ago.”

Marsh reached over and cupped her face. “You talk about me being hard and callous when it comes to these things. My Lord, you would have made one hell of a shrewd businessman, Dell.”

“Businesswoman,” she corrected him. “And I tell you something else—”

“Oh boy.” Marsh squinted jokingly as if bracing himself for a lecture.

“I'm serious. If you want to keep us women shopping all day, you need lavatories. And feed us, for God's sake.”

He sat up, forcing her to raise her head and look at him. Marsh shook his head. “I'll never get Levi to go along with a tearoom. But lavatories—”

“Oh, and a lounge where the women can relax, maybe read a newspaper or magazine—”

“Now that would be something. I'd like to see Carson Pirie Scott try to match that. I dare any of them to even try. There's going to be one grand store—grander than all the others on State Street and . . .” He looked at the smile on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. “I just love it
when you get so competitive. It's very seductive. Very alluring. New York merchants be damned!”

Marsh grinned, obviously liking the sound of that.

•   •   •

A
ll that winter and into the spring, Delia and Marsh were preoccupied with the new store. Marsh included Delia in all the planning, showing her the blueprints, the inventory for new merchandise, even the fixtures and displays.

One afternoon in April Delia went down to State Street with Flossie scampering alongside her, her diamond leash swinging back and forth like a jump rope. The city had grown so much in recent years she hardly recognized it. New stone buildings had appeared on every corner, and they spread farther west along streets that Delia had never ventured down. She still couldn't believe the fire had been less than a decade before.

It had stormed earlier that day and the sidewalks were still damp, peppered with puddles here and there. The sun was coming out now and so were the shoppers who had ducked inside during the rain. Delia paused before a display window and caught a reflection of the new Field, Leiter & Company across the way. It was preparing to open in less than a week.

Delia knew that other merchants were moving to town soon, but up until then there wasn't a store on State Street that even came close to Field & Leiter. By comparison, they were downright shoddy. The Ed Ahlswede Company had dragged half their merchandise onto the sidewalk. Some of it had gotten soaked in the rain, but that didn't seem to matter. Their clerks sat on the front stoop while women sorted through the bins of damp fabrics, knitting needles, thimbles, pincushions and other notions, searching for what they needed. A few doors down was Hinckley & Brothers. It was another mishmash of merchandise. The lace was mixed in with the silks, the wools in with the linens. The
aisles were cluttered with boxes and litter and a film of dust covered the counters, clinging to items that you'd have to shake out and clean once you got them home. Even her father's store, over on Lake Street, was cramped with overcrowded shelves. It was a treasure hunt even for the clerks to find items. Though her father had been a dry goods pioneer, Hibbard & Spencer was from another place in time. They couldn't begin to match the kind of luxury service and quality that shoppers had come to expect from Field & Leiter.

“Hello, Delia.” A shrill voice from behind called to her.

Delia turned around and her jaw dropped. “Nannie—” She was so startled, so caught off guard, she didn't know what to say.

“You look pale.”

“Just surprised is all. I didn't know you were back in town.”

“I had to come back for the store opening.”

Delia nodded. Of course Nannie wouldn't miss an opportunity to wear her crown as Mrs. Marshall Field.

Flossie jumped up on Nannie, leaving damp paw prints on the bottom of her dress. “Flossie,” Delia said, tugging on her leash. “Down. Flossie, get down.”

A series of carriages rambled down the street, the horses' bridles and harnesses jangling as they passed. The noise made the silence between the two women almost eerie.

Nannie smiled as if struck by some great revelation. “I don't love him anymore,” she said. “I don't love Marshall.”

Delia was taken aback by her words, blurted out and in the middle of the busy downtown street where anyone passing by could overhear them.

“So you see,” said Nannie, “you're not
taking
anything away from me that I haven't already willingly given up.”

Suddenly Delia found the smug look on Nannie's face more than she could bear. The hate she'd worked so hard to control and
bury came raging back. It was all she could do to remain calm enough to say, “If that's the case, then why not divorce him?”

“Because I have children,” she snapped. “That's something you will never understand. You couldn't even hold on to the child you had.”

That cut deeply. Delia lost her power to control herself. “No thanks to you.”

“I beg your pardon.” Nannie shot her an indignant look.

“You think I don't remember? You think I don't know you pushed me down those stairs?”

“That's absurd. You're not in your right mind. You must have fallen on your head—you don't know what you're talking about.” Before she turned to walk away, Nannie stepped closer to Delia and said, “Just so you know, I will never give Marshall a divorce. I will be the one and only Mrs. Marshall Field until the day I die.”

Nannie brushed past her, leaving Delia standing alone on the sidewalk, shaking.

•   •   •

E
ver since her run-in with Nannie, Delia had talked herself in and out of going to the grand opening party at least a dozen times. Now it was the night of the party and at Marsh's insistence and Arthur's encouragement, she was going.

Therese helped dress Delia in a royal blue velvet gown with rhinestone detailing and a silk ribbon at the waist. A diamond choker graced her long neck and her hair was done up, held in place with sapphire combs. The pale blue gloves she wore came up past her elbows.

With a drink in hand—his second, she suspected—Arthur stepped into the doorway of her bedroom in a new well-tailored suit. His diamond stickpin sparkled in the flickering glow of the lamp on her dressing table. She noticed also that Arthur had
gotten a shave earlier that day and that his muttonchops had been trimmed, cut quite close to his jowls.

“No Flossie tonight?” he asked, looking at the puppy, who was up on her hind legs and dancing about his feet.

“Not tonight.” Delia told the dog to stay put. It was one of the few times she'd left her behind and neither one was happy about it. Flossie lay flat on the floor, whimpering and covering her nose with her paws. A pang of guilt shot through Delia and she scooped up the dog, cuddling her, planting kisses on her head.

“When I die,” said Arthur, “I want to come back as Flossie.”

With regret Delia set Flossie down and they were on their way.

The carriages were lined up on State Street as men and women dressed in all their finery entered the Field, Leiter & Company store. The new building, now six stories high, had an impressive mansard roof accented by a series of small domes. Delia was nervous for Marsh, wanting everything to go perfectly. The whole idea of having a society party to open a dry goods store had never been done before, just as a store as elegant and beautiful as Field & Leiter had never existed before, either. Marsh was creating something completely new. Her pulse raced and she wrung her sweating hands together.

Inside, the store was magnificent. Delia couldn't get over the transformation. It was hard to believe this was the same space that had been devoured by flames just two years before. The well light overhead let the moonlight shine down. Beautiful plush carpets ran the length of the aisles. Rich mahogany counters and glassed-in shelves lined the exterior of the room. Large mirrors were stationed around the elaborate displays. Delia's eyes landed on everything from Alexandre kid gloves to front-fastening Machree corsets to bustle pads. The gentlemen's department, she noted, was filled with collars, suspenders and smoking caps.

She remembered how Marsh fretted over the expense of the
renovation. But in the end, he had decided that the store needed to be equipped with all the latest amenities, including electric lights. That feature alone amazed the guests as they made their way through the aisles.

A twenty-piece orchestra played while people filtered throughout the store, taking in the latest merchandise from Europe and the Orient. Champagne was served along with platters of oysters, caviar and other seafood delicacies. Uniformed security guards stood watch from various points around the room, on the lookout for pickpockets and shoplifters who had managed to obtain a coveted invitation to the event.

Every newspaper reporter in town clustered around Marsh and Levi, taking turns asking questions. That's when Marsh spotted Delia. With just a glance they both acknowledged that this was a shared victory. The rest of the party blurred into the backdrop for Delia as she savored the moment, the fruit of all their hard work. She was reveling in this when she spotted Nannie's hand reaching over, resting on Marsh's forearm. The moment had been ruined. Just thinking about the things Nannie said to her on the street, that Nannie's push caused her to lose her baby, filled Delia with rage. She couldn't look at her anymore. She had to turn away.

“Let's go see the rest of the store,” suggested Arthur, tugging at Delia's arm. She knew he could tell how upset she was. It wasn't until he had fetched her a second glass of champagne that she began to calm down.

“Go easy with that, my pet,” he said, watching her take two large sips.

For most of the evening, Delia stayed off to the side, insulated by Arthur, Abby and Augustus, Bertha and Potter. Some people, like Frances and Annie, were cordial, but they still let Delia know they disapproved of her being there. Delia had
expected a cool reception and tried not to let it spoil her evening. After all, this was a celebration. But still, it stung that she was slighted, especially when she had contributed so much to the design of the store. She deserved to be there more than they could have imagined.

At one point Delia excused herself and went upstairs to see the new lavatory on the second floor. After months of looking at sketches, she found it a thrill to view the finished product, including the marble she'd help select along with the gilt-trimmed mirror. She especially liked the Blaise and Millet vanity table accessorized with dusting powder, a silver paddle brush and a tray of French perfumes. A uniformed attendant rose from a gold velvet stool in the corner. Delia was taking it all in when the lavatory door swung open and in walked Nannie.