The White City

by Grace Hitchcock

  He took a seat next to her, allowing his arm to drape around her shoulders, and pulled her close in an attempt to calm her. Winnifred rested her head against his chest, her hair brushing his chin. Waiting until her breathing slowed, he said, “Baxter wasn’t watching you?”

  “No. He escorted me to work this morning, but then disappeared. I came outside on account of a headache, and I couldn’t find him. I thought I’d be safer in the park than in the building without reinforcements.” Her voice dithered. “I haven’t felt safe since you’ve been sick.” She rubbed her hand over her eyes, wiping away her tears. “I apologize for barging in on you at home, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You did the right thing.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a fresh handkerchief. “I’m so sorry. I felt well enough to come today, but then there was a plumbing emergency, and I figured since I had the day off already, I’d fix it first, but one thing led to another and my sister and mother came over—” He raked his hand through his hair, berating himself for leaving her unattended.

  She blinked as if aware for the first time of her surroundings, her hands fluttering to life over her hair and gown. “Your mother and sister are here? Oh my goodness. You best help me to my feet or else they will think me a mess to find me sprawled against your front door.”

  “They came by to drop off some more soup before they picked up Georgie from school. But don’t worry. I told them to stay put in the kitchen.” He stood and offered her his hand. She placed her small hand in his and he fairly hoisted her to her feet, unprepared for how light she was. “Will you join us at the kitchen table for a moment while you catch your breath?”

  She nodded, grabbing onto his shirtsleeve and swaying slightly. He moved to pick her up, but she whispered, “No, you can’t carry me, not with your mother in the next room.”

  “You’ll have to at least allow me to assist you. I can’t have you passing out.” He wrapped his arm about her waist and, with slow strides, assisted her into the kitchen. “Mother, Mary, and Detective Holt, this is Miss Wylde.”

  His sister and mother rose along with the detective, their chairs grating against the hardwood floor. “Is she quite all right?” his mother asked as Mary moved to help Winnifred into a chair.

  “She’s had a fright, but is physically unharmed.” He set her down, reluctant to remove his hand for fear she would faint.

  “Poor dear. Shall we talk of something to take your mind off your ordeal while Jude fetches you something hot to drink and a bite of something?” his mother asked, patting her hand.

  Winnifred offered them a feeble smile. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll put on the kettle for tea,” Jude murmured, his heart pounding out of his chest as he attempted to maintain a calm façade. He kept an ear out for anything happening in the hallway as he filled the kettle. His mind hummed with scenarios of how bad it could have been, all the while the terror in her eyes haunting him. He was going to tear into Baxter for leaving his post. He slammed the kettle onto the stove with unnecessary force.

  The women jumped, his mother shooting him a scowl. “Really, Jude.” She pressed her hand against her chest.

  He gave them an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Don’t know my own strength sometimes.” With the women returning to their discussion of Georgie’s first trip to the fair and Holt sitting silently with his newspaper, Jude’s mind wandered to the street below. If Holmes is still outside, we will need to lose him before I take her home. He leaned against the countertop, crossing his arms as he racked his mind for the best course of action.

  “Are you going to keep scowling at the kettle or are you going to take it off the stove?” his mother called.

  Jude blinked as he registered the piercing whistle of the steaming kettle. Grabbing a kitchen towel and removing it from the stove, he reached for the tin of tea leaves and carefully measured out three tablespoons, sprinkling them into the pot along with a dash of cool water before adding the boiling water.

  “Did you add the cool water first to the leaves so they wouldn’t singe?” His mother lifted her gaze to his tea making.

  “Of course. I’m not a complete novice.” He carried the pot to the table before retrieving five mismatched cups that he had collected over the years from wives of friends who took pity on his lack of dishware.

  “Jude, I’m surprised you are so domestic,” Winnifred said with a teasing lilt in her voice as he set the tea strainer over a yellow cup with a slightly chipped base.

  “I lived on my own for a long time in New York after these two abandoned me for Chicago,” he replied, pouring the tea from a daring height to make the ladies laugh and distill the tension he still detected in Winnifred’s shoulders. With a flourish, he presented each guest with their cup. “I have also prepared for you a plate of the finest oatmeal cookies in the land.” Jude whipped the checkered napkin off the single china plate he owned.

  “Did you really bake these?” Winnifred asked, her eyes widening at the taste.

  Detective Holt clamped his lips together to no doubt keep a snort contained and lifted his cookie. “Tea is about the extent of our detective’s domestic talents. These are from the bakery down the street. And if his mother and sister didn’t bring him a casserole twice a week, I am sure he would starve.”

  “Being someone who has never touched a stove, I appreciate the existence of bakeries when in a pinch,” Winnifred replied, a reassuring smile on her lips for Jude before turning to Detective Holt. “Are you visiting Detective Thorpe as well? Or does business bring you here?”

  Holt looked to Jude, and at his nod, Holt replied, “I’m on duty, Miss Wylde. There’s been a threat, and I’m here to protect Detective Thorpe’s family.”

  Winnifred blanched, looking to the women. “I’m so sorry. After all you have been through this year, this is the last thing your family needs.”

  Mary dipped her head, and Jude’s mother again patted Winnifred on the arm before sipping her tea as the clock on the mantel chimed one o’clock.

  Jude was grateful to his mother and sister for distracting Winnifred for a quarter of an hour, but if he were to lose Holmes and get Winnifred home at a reasonable hour, they would need to leave now. “Winnifred, I’m afraid we don’t have time for you to finish your tea.”

  “Finish? She’s taken maybe three sips,” Mother interjected.

  Jude shrugged. “I’m sorry, but we need time to lose Holmes. If she’s not home well before dinner to change, I’m sure her father will begin to worry.”

  Winnifred smoothed her skirts and rose. “Good point. Aunt Lillian would sound the alarm if I’m not back in time for dinner with Mr. Covington.” She curtsied to his guests, who rose and returned her farewell. She gave them a wobbly smile. “Good day, Detective Holt and ladies, it was lovely meeting you all, and I hope we shall see one another soon.”

  Ignoring the part about dinner being with Covington, Jude shrugged on his coat and retrieved his hat. “Your Aunt Lillian is back? I thought you said she’d be gone all summer.”

  “She was supposed to be.” Winnifred sighed, twisting the pearl ring on her finger and betraying her nerves.

  He would have to remind her not to wear jewelry while working undercover, but he couldn’t scold her now, not when she was so worked up. “Well then, we shall be sure to get you home as soon as possible.” Jude held his arm out to her and, with a trembling hand, she slipped her arm through his as they stepped into the shared hallway.

  “Shall I drop my glove so you can look for Holmes?” she whispered, turning her wide blue-green eyes up to him.

  He nodded, pleased with her cleverness. He bent and retrieved her soft cream glove, scanning the area, but thankfully, he did not see anyone lurking.

  “I tried to use the techniques that you taught me, but they didn’t seem to work for me this time. I think I might have been a little too rattled to execute them properly.” She slipped her gloves on, blushing. “I’m sorry for my dramatic entrance earlier,” she whi
spered as she fitted her hat.

  He reached for her hand, ashamed of himself for allowing this to happen. If he had been there, she wouldn’t be so frightened “We will lose him together this time.” He stroked her palm with his thumb before tugging on his hat and leading them to the stairs. He could tell from her breathing that her panic from earlier was returning, and he could hardly keep his anger in check at Baxter’s actions that led to her being in such a state.

  Jude paused at the second-floor landing, took Winnifred by the shoulders, and turned her to him. “Holmes will most likely be waiting just outside the building. I think that you and I should act as if we are courting and are off to enjoy an afternoon at the fair. The crowds will provide the perfect place to lose him.”

  She swallowed and nodded, her eyes wide. “Whatever you think best.”

  He squeezed her hand once again as they descended the steps. It would not be difficult for him to pretend that she was his girl. Once this was over, maybe he could summon the courage to speak with her father even though he knew what the inspector would say. It was well known about the office that the inspector did not wish for his daughter to marry an officer of the law.

  Jude poked his head through the front door before holding it open for her to pass beneath his arm. On the sidewalk, he tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear, his eyes searching behind her for a form waiting in the shadows. There he was, waiting for Winnifred. Jude slipped her arm through his and whispered, “He’s here. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you, not for one second.”

  She clutched his upper arm, her voice low and trembling. “What do we do?”

  He reached across his chest to her hand and squeezed it. “We will stick to our plan.” Then, he added a bit louder for Holmes’s benefit, “Miss Swan, I’m sorry you had such a bad headache, but I’m glad the medicine is working now. Hopefully the fresh air will complete your healing.” To her credit, she let nothing in her countenance betray her fear as he hailed a carriage and helped her inside, quietly giving the cabby instructions to drop them at the Stoney Island Avenue entrance to the fair before settling in the seat beside Winnifred, his arm around her shoulders.

  With a sigh, she leaned into his side, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Jude.”

  “No one is forcing you to, Winnie.” He grasped her hand in his to bring her some small measure of comfort. “After we lose him at the fair today, you don’t have to interact with him ever again. However, as much as I want to tell you not to return, I think it is only right to admit to you that I feel as if you’re very close to uncovering something. Holmes has been careful, but he’s beginning to show more interest in you, and I think that his attraction will cause him to make a mistake.”

  She tilted her gaze up to him and nodded. “I’ll have to agree with you there. Owens is growing more comfortable too. He usually keeps Holmes’s papers under lock and key, but one of these days, he is going to leave them unattended in plain view or forget to lock the desk. I’m certain I will find enough in one of those papers to bring Holmes in for an investigation and enough for us to get a search warrant.” She pressed her handkerchief to her temple and laughed. “At least my headache really is going away. But if I’m honest, I think that might have more to do with you being here with me and Baxter, not.”

  He clenched his fists on top of his thighs. “When I get my hands on that officer, he will regret the day he ever—”

  She held her hand up. “Please don’t tell Father. I’m sure Baxter didn’t mean any harm. And I really don’t wish for him to get fired. However, he does need to be reprimanded, so if you could get on to him rather than having Father find out and fire him, I’m sure it would benefit everyone.”

  He nodded as the carriage stopped at the fair entrance. “If your father found out, I have no doubt he would fire him, so I will reluctantly keep it from the inspector.” He hopped out and held the door for her. “I’m famished. The other day when I was here with Mary viewing the various state buildings, I discovered that the Louisiana building has a café with Creole cuisine. I tried some of their étouffée and found it positively delectable. If we perchance have not lost Holmes on the drive, then maybe we could show him that we are on a regular outing and that nothing underhanded is going on by sitting down for a late lunch?”

  “That sounds lovely, but I don’t have my season pass with me.” She lifted her hands up, helpless. “I don’t have enough to pay for a ticket, much less dinner.”

  He laughed, taking a place in line. “What kind of gentleman caller would I be if I did not treat you?” He checked his pocket watch, casually glancing down the street for Holmes possibly following in a hired carriage. While Jude didn’t see Holmes, his gut told him not to underestimate the man. “But, after we eat, I think we may need to weave through the crowds a bit more. Any suggestions for somewhere we could lose him?”

  She tapped her lip in her father’s fashion before snapping her fingers. “I think I have just the place. In the horticultural building, under the central dome, there is an exhibit called the Mammoth Crystal Cave that we can explore for an extra fee. I don’t know if Holmes is aware of it. He might be … but he might not, and it would be a good place to hide away.”

  Paying for their tickets, he took her arm in his, loving how perfectly natural it felt. “Perfect,” he murmured.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You don’t need scores of suitors.

  You need only one … if he’s the right one.”

  ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

  Jude held the door of the Louisiana plantation-style building as Winnifred stepped inside to discover various artifacts from the state along with notable agricultural products. But all she could focus on was the mouthwatering aroma wafting out of the Creole café that Jude had been praising on the walk over. She pressed a hand against her corset stays to quiet her rumbling stomach. It had been far too long since her lunch, which she only nibbled on because of her splitting headache. She dabbed her handkerchief to her perspiring temples, praying that the sweltering afternoon sun would not cause the throbbing to return.

  Jude led her to one of the vacant tables in the corner of the restaurant, concern etched between his brows. He waved one of the waiters over and ordered them each a glass of iced tea, french bread, and some oysters on ice to begin.

  “Oysters?” she questioned, having never tried the delicacy. “Shall we get something a little less ambitious?”

  “I was thinking of something cool to get for you, but perhaps we could try gumbo? It’s a sort of soup.” He called to the waiter’s retreating back. “Please change that to two bowls of gumbo.”

  The front door slammed shut, causing her to jump and turn toward the entrance before catching herself and whipping back to face Jude. “Sorry. So, um, when are you going to tell me why someone is guarding your family? Does it have anything to do with those men accosting you that day?”

  Jude pressed his lips into a firm line and nodded, whispering, “If I tell you, you cannot breathe a word to anyone, not even your father.”

  Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward to pick up his words. “Of course.”

  “The beating was a warning.” Jude bowed his head. “I’ve told you about my brother-in-law’s passing, but Victor’s death was not an accident. I picked up the case that he had been working on before the fair began and asked one too many questions to the wrong person. The man threatened my family if I didn’t stop my investigation.”

  Winnifred gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh Jude. And you couldn’t tell anyone, because Victor’s case was originally ruled as an accident.” She leaned back in the chair, scowling. “I am so sorry. Here I’ve been so consumed with my own problems, I never once thought to ask if you were dealing with something other than our case.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s all right. I hadn’t confided in a single soul until today. And just the telling makes my
burden lighter for being shared.”

  At the strength his hands lent her, she gained the courage to whisper, “You know that I’ll always be here for you should you ever have need.” And for a moment, she thought she could see her longing mirrored in his gaze before it flickered away. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Do you see Holmes?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. If he is lurking about where we can’t see him, we best keep playacting that we’re on an outing.”

  “I almost wish we could confront him, now that you are here,” she admitted, all the while knowing it to be a foolish notion.

  He gave her a sympathetic smile. “If we acknowledge him now, it would destroy your cover. It’s not about the immediate danger at this point.” He leaned toward her as if he were about to whisper into her ear, but the waiter reappeared with their iced sweet tea, his presence pulling them apart. When he left, Jude whispered, “You are safe with me, Winnifred. Please don’t be frightened. I won’t allow anything to happen to you.”

  At his words, her tumultuous spirit calmed a bit, and she met his gaze, feeling as if he could peer into her very soul, and confusion washed over her anew. I must control my feelings. My heart cannot rule.

  The waiter placed a bowl of brown goop in front of her and, once he left, she leaned in and whispered, “It smells delicious, but truly, it looks like we were served a puddle of mud with bits of dried leaves and … are those legs in my bowl?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Now, I know it doesn’t look like much, but I’ve heard it’s amazing. And yes, those are crab legs.”

  She swirled her spoon around in the bowl, discovering rice hidden under the gumbo. “This is bizarre.” She tasted it and gave a disbelieving laugh. “And surprisingly delicious.” Settling back in her chair, Winnifred found she really was relaxing under Jude’s watch.

  “So, I’ve been meaning to ask how things are going with Mr. Covington.” He scooped up a bite, the steam curling above his spoon.