A Proper Pursuit

by Lynn Austin

  “Of course.”

  “It happens more often than people know …”Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “Behind closed doors.”

  It happens often? Was she talking about women murdering their husbands? I stumbled to find an appropriate response.

  “Y-yes. I-I’m sure that’s … true.”

  “Your father was such an enormous help; bless his soul. I don’t know how many times he traveled to Chicago to the Jolly Roger. He said he wanted to do it for his brother’s sake.”

  The Jolly Roger? For his brother’s sake? Was my uncle a pirate? Blast my secretive family!

  “Y-you mean my father’s brother, Philip?”

  “Yes, I believe that was his name. Still, it was kind of your father to help Maude.” Yikes! My father had helped Maude?

  Fortunately, my hours of practice at school holding an enigmatic smile in place kept my mouth from dropping open in horror and shock. How could my father do such a thing?

  “Now that Lloyd O’Neill is gone, Maude’s life has been blessedly peaceful,” Herman’s mother continued. “And it’s good that the truth was never revealed… . For the children’s sake,” she added in a whisper.

  Ah-ha! She practically had admitted it was murder!

  “Much better to have it ruled an unfortunate accident,” she said, “instead of … well, you know, Miss Hayes.”

  I nodded mutely, realizing that I faced a troublesome dilemma. How could I expose Maude as a murderer if my father had helped her?

  Herman chose that opportune moment to join us on the porch. “Would you care for a game of croquet on the back lawn, Violet? It’s no longer raining, as you can see, and the grass has dried out.”

  “That would be lovely,” I said, struggling to regain my composure. “Would you excuse us, Mrs. Beckett?”

  I was badly shaken by what I had learned, and I used my mallet to vent my emotions. I played cutthroat croquet. It was very unfeminine of me to be so competitive, but I was trying to absorb the fact that my father might be an accomplice to murder. At the same time, I had to be mindful of my plan to discourage Herman from courting me. I was prepared to swing from the trees and howl at the moon to accomplish that goal.

  Herman played croquet very slowly and patiently, helping his two little nieces, who were playing with us. None of them was prepared for my ruthlessness. Priscilla pouted when I whacked her ball into the shrubbery, yards and yards from the nearest wicket. Emily ran into the house, crying, when I sent her ball rolling down the driveway. My bloomers gave me an amazing degree of freedom as I attacked my opponents’ balls.

  “Aren’t you being a little hard on the children?” Herman asked. “After all, it’s only a game.”

  “The world is a cutthroat place, Herman. I don’t believe it is wise to raise one’s children in a sheltered environment.” I sent his ball bouncing behind the tool shed and won the game. Afterward, I decided to shock him further with one of my grisliest questions.

  “If you could choose, Herman, would you rather perish in an appalling cataclysm such as a mine explosion or a train wreck and die amid twisted iron and tons of rock, listening to the screams of trapped and suffering humanity—or would you prefer to linger at home in your bed from a long, agonizing illness, your helpless body growing weaker, your every breath a painful gasp?”

  “It’s quite distasteful to discuss death, Violet.”

  “I know that. But it’s a game, Herman. The point is to think about what you would do if faced with two impossible choices. So which would you choose?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  I sighed and gave up. Herman Beckett was never going to play. But with any luck, I had shocked him right out of my life today.

  Later, under the cover of darkness, we ventured out to the public park to watch the fireworks. Most of the rockets had gotten damp and they fizzled dismally. I couldn’t wait to return home. The day had seemed twenty-four years long, but when it finally ended, Herman stopped me on our front doorstep before bidding me good-night.

  “Violet, there is something I need to say to you.”

  Here it comes. It’s good-bye forever to stuffy Herman Beckett.

  “I believe that you are the wife for me.”

  “W-what? But—”

  “No, let me finish. I understand from your father that you have other suitors, but I want you to know that I intend to continue my courtship in all earnestness and sincerity once you return to Lockport, with the hope of winning you. I wanted you to get a glimpse today of the simple contentment we could share if you married me.”

  I almost blurted “You still want me—in bloomers?” But I didn’t. His speech reminded me of my Uncle Gilbert’s touching pursuit of Aunt Birdie, except that Herman hadn’t mentioned love.

  “To be honest, Violet, I have worried in the past that you were out of my reach. You attended such a fancy school, where you learned proper manners and how to speak French and all the rest. My mother didn’t think you could be content with an ordinary family like ours. But today I saw a different side of you. You aren’t pretentious or high-class at all. Now I’m more certain than ever that we could be happy together.”

  “Your mother approves of me?”

  “She thinks you’re vivacious. She said you would be a good balance for me in that regard. And I must say I believe she is right. You’re an unusual woman, Violet. I find you … exciting!” His eyes met mine, and even in the dark I could see an uncharacteristic gleam in them. “The way you whacked those croquet balls! My word! And you looked so attractive in those … in your … in that attire!”

  Now I was the one who was mute. My plan had backfired! Why hadn’t these stupid bloomers come with a warning? Caution: Stodgy men may find this garment attractive. Bloomers have been known to precipitate a proposal of marriage!

  “You don’t need to answer me tonight, Violet. I know that you’ll be coming home in less than two weeks’ time. It will seem like an eternity to me, but I’ll wait. Until then …” He gripped both of my hands in his and gave them a determined squeeze. “Good night.”

  Good grief!

  I fled up the steps and into the house. Grandmother met me in the foyer as if she had been standing there since I’d left. She heaved a weighty sigh.

  “Violet Rose. I have been sick at heart all day, just knowing that you’ve been running around in public dressed that way.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—” “Believe me, if I had been strong enough to bar your way I would have. Your father—” “My father wants me to marry Herman Beckett, and I don’t want to. Wearing bloomers was part of my plan to discourage him—but it backfired! It seems I’ve enflamed his passions. He thinks I’m exciting.”

  “I shouldn’t wonder. You could awaken a dead man in that outfit with your backside so … so … prominent. If your father hears that I allowed you out of this house in bloomers, he’ll never speak to me again.”

  “I’ll tell him it wasn’t your fault. You tried to stop me, but—” “Oh, Violet! Thank goodness you’re home!” She pulled me into her arms for a fervent hug. I hugged her in return.

  “Do you think there is really such a thing as true love?” I asked.

  She drew back to gaze at me. She seemed taken aback by my question. “Of course there is.”

  “Do you know anyone besides Aunt Birdie who has ever found it?”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “You are more than I can handle, Violet Rose. No wonder your father wants to see you safely married.”

  Chapter

  25

  Wednesday, July 5, 1893

  When a deliveryman brought a dozen red roses to our door the next morning, I feared they were from Herman.Why hadn’t Madame Beauchamps ever taught us that bloomers unlocked the door to romance? I would at least have expected True Romance Stories to have mentioned it. I tore open the attached card with dread.

  Roses for my Violet—

  Will you attend a gala dinner with me at the fairgro
unds tonight? I promise to woo you with a romantic gondola ride in the moonlight.

  Yours,

  Nelson

  I sighed with relief.

  “From your beau?” Aunt Birdie asked. I could only nod. I felt as though I had stepped onto the pages of one of Ruth’s romance novels. A proposal of marriage one day, roses and moonlit boat rides the next.

  “Gilbert charmed his way into my heart with flowers too,” Aunt Birdie said.

  “Nelson Kent is going to take me on a gondola ride in the moonlight,” I said, showing her the card.

  “Oh, how nice. Will you be going out in your underwear again?”

  My smile vanished. “No. That turned out to be a huge mistake.”

  “Well, then. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

  As I carried the flowers into the kitchen to look for a vase, I suddenly remembered Katya and the impassioned kiss I had witnessed. How could he kiss her that way, then turn around and woo me? Nelson Kent obviously was deceiving one of us. I had the sinking feeling that it was me.

  Nevertheless, the roses were beautiful. I bent to inhale their rich, velvety scent, and the aroma brought another memory to mind. My mother had smelled like roses. I closed my eyes and inhaled again, remembering how she would give me her handkerchief, sweetened with her scent, to sleep with at night.

  Where was she? How could I find her? If only there was something I could do instead of waiting for Silas McClure and his unsavory friends to locate her.

  I debated all day whether or not I should accompany Nelson to the gala dinner. In the end I decided to go. But I made up my mind to learn the truth about Katya before I allowed him to pursue me any further.

  Nelson and I sailed to the fair by steamship once again. It was crowded with all of the regular members of his social circle, including his grandmother and my Aunt Agnes. I saw the two ladies whispering like thieves as Nelson and I stood side by side at the ship’s rail, gazing at the distant silhouette of Chicago. Tonight the harbor resembled an overstuffed pincushion with dozens of ships’ masts poking into the sky. They brought to mind the intriguing clue that Herman’s mother had let slip yesterday: My father traveled to Chicago … to the Jolly Roger … for his brother’s sake.

  “Have you ever heard of a ship named the Jolly Roger?” I asked Nelson.

  “Is this one of your amusing questions?” he asked, smiling. “I think we already discussed the fact that I’d rather be the captain of a warship than a pirate ship, didn’t we?”

  “No, I’m serious. Someone mentioned that my father used to come to Chicago to the Jolly Roger. I thought it sounded like a pirate ship.”

  “Or a saloon. There aren’t many pirate ships in Chicago these days, but there are plenty of saloons—” He must have noticed the surprise on my face because he quickly added, “But I’m sure your father wouldn’t frequent a saloon. Perhaps it’s a restaurant?”

  Little did Nelson know that my father had indeed frequented saloons when he’d worked with Mr. Moody’s Yokefellows. Maybe I had found another important piece of the puzzle.

  “How would one go about finding an establishment by that name?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure the city must keep records of all the businesses and so forth. Maybe in the city administration building?”

  I gazed into the distance, trying to add up all the clues—and trying not to think about the fact that my mild-mannered father may have been an accomplice to murder. Nelson took my chin in his fingers and turned my head to face him.

  “You’re a million miles away, sweet Violet.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m trying to romance you. Aren’t you the lady who craves romance?”

  “Yes, I know. And I forgot to thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful, Nelson.”

  “I sent them to remind you of the first day we met. Remember our stroll through my grandmother’s flower garden?”

  “Of course. How could I forget?”

  What game was he playing, making sweet talk and gazing into my eyes? I needed to find out if he was still in love with Katya before I succumbed to his considerable charms. Though she no longer worked for the Kents, it didn’t mean that Nelson no longer loved her. Maybe he had hidden her away somewhere as his mistress, like my Uncle Henry hid his mistresses. I had to figure out a way to bring Katya into our conversation.

  “I remember our first meeting very well,” I said. “Your grandmother sent that beautiful young serving girl to fetch you, and I had no idea what to expect or what you would look like. I was very pleasantly surprised, by the way, when I met you.” I smiled flirtatiously.

  Nelson glowed at my compliment. “I was surprised too.”

  “I also recall how lovely that little serving girl was. What was her name? … Katy? … No, it was foreign sounding … Katya! That was it. Katya always serves the tea when I come to visit with my Aunt Agnes, and I love watching her. Such natural grace and poise. But come to think of it, I didn’t see her the last time I called. Some clumsy oaf of a girl served us instead. She dripped tea all over my shoes.”

  “I’ll have her fired.”

  “No, don’t do that. Just make sure Katya serves us the next time.”

  His smile vanished. “She no longer works for us.” I found it very revealing that Nelson knew exactly who I was talking about. And that she was gone.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Servants come and go all the time, Violet.” He waved as if dismissing the topic, but his cool, blasé facade had slipped from its usual place. “It’s the housekeeper’s job to keep track of them, not mine.”

  So Katya really was gone. Maybe the affair between them had fizzled. Maybe that was why he had decided to pursue me in earnest.

  We arrived at the fair and rode the moving sidewalk once again to the Peristyle. I fell into step with all of the other partygoers when I got off, but Nelson drew me to a halt.

  “Wait. You need to stop and look at this magnificent view. Can you even imagine a more perfect spot for romance?” Once again, sparkling lights lit up the lagoon and water splashed from the fountains. Electric lights twinkled from the whitewashed pavilions and reflected off the water like diamonds.

  “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale,” I murmured.

  “And it’s just the beginning.”

  We dined on quail and truffles in the garden restaurant on the rooftop of the Woman’s Pavilion. Our hosts had rented the entire dining room, along with a thirty-piece orchestra so we could dance afterward. The scent of flowers filled the air and stars shone in the night sky as I waltzed in Nelson’s arms. The evening was designed to make any woman fall in love.

  “Do you have any idea how fortunate you are?” Aunt Agnes whispered when Nelson left to replenish my punch cup. “There isn’t a woman in this city who wouldn’t give her right arm to marry a young man like him.”

  “Yes. I know.” But I wasn’t in love.

  The moon had risen above the horizon when Nelson took me for a gondola ride on the lagoon. Colored searchlights and fireworks blazed above our heads as we glided gently across the water. Nelson pulled me close on the seat beside him.

  “A beautiful night … for a beautiful woman,” he murmured. “Who could ask for more?”

  He bent his face toward mine, and I was certain he was going to kiss me. Instead, he pressed his warm cheek against mine and said, “If you marry me, you can have this life from now on.”

  I pulled away and looked up at him in surprise. “Are you proposing?”

  “Isn’t this the most romantic place in all of Chicago for a marriage proposal? Must I do something more? I was certain you told me that romance was the way to win your heart.”

  “It is, but … it’s just that we haven’t known each other very long.”

  “That’s what engagements are for. Listen, I understand that your father is coming back to Chicago for you soon, and I plan to ask him for your hand to make it official. We can be engaged for as long as you li
ke—but I hope it isn’t for too long. I’m dying to kiss you, Violet.”

  I couldn’t seem to reply. But I wasn’t considering his proposal; I was analyzing my symptoms. My pulse seemed disappointingly normal, my palms were dry, I could draw great, hearty breaths, and I didn’t feel the least bit shivery or feverish. A handsome, charming, wealthy man had just proposed to me and … nothing! Even with my corset tightly laced! Maybe there was something wrong with me.

  “I’ll give you anything your heart desires,” Nelson said. “Beautiful gowns, jewels, the finest home, dozens of servants …”

  Servants. Katya suddenly materialized in the boat with us. Nelson hadn’t hesitated to kiss her before their engagement. If I hadn’t spied on them that night, I might be accepting his proposal this very minute.

  “And I promise to give you independence as well,” he said.

  “Independence? What do you mean?”

  “What you do with your free time will be entirely up to you, Violet. For instance, Potter Palmer’s wife is the director of the Woman’s Pavilion. Mrs. McCormick works for several charities. You could do whatever you wish.”

  “Suppose I decided to march with the women’s suffrage movement— in bloomers?”

  “Well …” His smile wavered slightly before returning to its place. “As long as you don’t disgrace me by getting arrested, I suppose that would be okay.”

  He hadn’t declared his love. Should I ask him if he loved me? Would I believe him if he said that he did? He had dismissed love as unnecessary when I’d mentioned it before. But if he didn’t love me, why was he working so hard to woo me? Was it for money and a position in his father’s business?

  I shook myself. What was wrong with me that I was questioning Nelson’s motives? The heroine of every romance novel I’d ever read would have gladly lived happily ever after with someone like him— especially if he wooed her with roses and moonlit gondola rides.

  Our gondolier returned us to the dock, and Nelson and I returned to the party. I wondered if he’d noticed that I hadn’t answered his proposal.