Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1)

by Jessica Keller

  He shook his head in a slow, sad manner. “I’m sorry, you can’t know. Please believe I’m trying to protect you by not telling you. The more you know, the more danger you’ll be in.”

  “But I’m already in danger. James says there’s a ring of anarchist spies after me.”

  “James will keep you safe. I’d trust him with my own life. Do everything he says, but you must never tell him you saw me.”

  Lewis moved to get up, but Ellen clutched his arm. “I don’t understand anything that’s happening. What is anarchy? How come no one will tell me?”

  He placed his hand over hers. “It’s a complex belief. But someone who stands for the cause would argue that citizens do not have an obligation to obey a government when its laws go against individual independence. An anarchist tears down corrupt leaders and credits the people with enough sense to govern their own persons.”

  “But why are they in America? Our government isn’t corrupt.”

  He stood. “That would depend upon who you asked.”

  Ellen squinted in an attempt to read his expression. “Whose side are you on?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just stay away from it. Go to the dances, make friends, and enjoy life. Do that, Ellen. It’s the only gift I can offer you.” Lewis shrugged. “And if you can … when the time comes, please try to believe the best about me.”

  “I met Mayor Harrison at Cobb’s party yesterday and he seems like a very nice man. If these people believe that government is evil, they should speak to—”

  Lewis tilted his head as if he heard something outside. “I have to go. Take care of yourself.”

  “Lewis!”

  In a swirl of black cape, he vanished out the window before she could say another word. She rushed to the opening and examined the street below. A horse whinnied in the distance as the streetlamps flicked shadows.

  But Lewis was gone.

  ***

  James flinched as the battleax drew blood. That’s what one got when they went poking around in other people’s secret chambers.

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” Hugh closed the door to the private room.

  James yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his finger to stop the bleeding. “A pin-prick. I believe I’ll live. I should have known better. I ought to have walked straight into this room and sat right down. Why do you have all these weapons, anyhow?” James gestured toward the walls on which seemed to hang every manner of sword, dueling pistol, and ax ever created.

  If he didn’t already trust Hugh, James would be worried for his life right about now. The butler had shown him to the end of a hall and left him there with instructions to find a door. No blasted door existed, just oak-paneled walls. After standing like an idiot for a full three minutes James traced his hands over the walls in search for a nodule or clue. When that didn’t work, he lifted paintings off the wall and peeked behind them for a latch or catch or anything. It all had to be some sort of test.

  As a last ditch attempt, he picked up an ugly brown vase off the floor. A loud click sounded behind him, and a heavy door swung open. Gazing from side to side, James examined the small, office-like room. A large desk flanked by two chairs filled the back, and a small sofa took up the middle of the room. No pictures—just weapons—decorated the walls, and not one window. The best police raid wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the room. Hugh had built it with spying in mind.

  Hugh crossed the room and took the seat behind the desk. He steepled his hands together, then pressed his fingers to his lips. “They’re relics, many used to defend people by agents through the last hundred years.”

  “You mean the Cygnus Brotherhood has been around that long?”

  “No, it’s a pompous name I created, but there are many spies in my ancestry. Their tactics have been passed down to me, along with their stories and triumphs. Some of these swords were used to duel French agents while my great-uncle ferried nobles to safety during the French Revolution and The Reign of Terror. My own father assisted with stopping the Chartist Rebellion in England.”

  “I can’t say I’ve heard of that last one.”

  “Chartism wasn’t bad in theory. Much like the labor unions today in our city, the Chartist fought for better working conditions and treatment of laborers. They wanted to set up a system that could root out bad members of Parliament. But their movement turned bloody. They rioted, and their demonstrations became violent. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the rights of citizens, but there are better ways to enact reform.”

  “And you fear the same with the Anarchists?”

  “Of course, so far their methods have been above par, but their organization is more dangerous than the Chartists. They don’t believe in the power of government to begin with. How do you begin to fight against that? They have seized upon the labor movement and warped it for their own purpose. The Unions wanted an eight-hour workday. The Anarchists told them to lobby for an eight-hour day for ten to twelve hour pay.”

  “And what do the Anarchists gain by joining the labor unions’ cause?”

  “Don’t you understand? By convincing the people to strike for extra pay and less hours, they know they offer a proposition the factory owners will not consider fair. They don’t care about the laborers. Instead they are ensuring that they fail.” Hugh tapped his desk. “They are using this opportunity to create unrest and start a movement of citizens against the city leaders.”

  “And the goal in all this?”

  Hugh rubbed his temples.

  James shrugged. “Sorry, I’m a simple country man at heart.”

  “To stop them and effect change in a different manner. I don’t like people getting taken advantage of. Especially people who are hurting to begin with. We use my ancestors’ spying methods and stop them at all costs. Without the anarchists goading the people, the unions and owners can sort out the issues.”

  “Why not just work for the police?”

  Hugh shrugged. “Not my style. I prefer to control a small, loyal, well-trained group. I fancy making the calls. Arrogant of me, I guess.”

  “So, you’re Cygnus?”

  “Of course not. Cygnus is a constellation.” Hugh opened a desk drawer, cupping a small object in his hand. He motioned for James to take it.

  The quarter-sized metal object rested cool in his palm. “A swan?”

  “It’s our call-sign. The lore surrounding the constellation says that Orpheus was transformed into a swan and placed in the sky to keep him safe for all eternity. Or, if you prefer, that Zeus morphed into a swan in order to seduce Leda, who bore him four demi-gods.”

  “Pleasant.”

  “We, too, have to transform and leave the lives we know. You will be expected to put on any disguise given to you and follow all orders. You need to become Cygnus.”

  “If I accept, what’s next?”

  “Are you sure about joining us? Once in, I demand full commitment.”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Hugh stood. “I’m curious, why the change of heart? Two days ago you were telling me you’d never join.”

  “Miss Ingram is in danger. You told me, and then I saw her pushed into the lake. I can never allow something to happen to her again.”

  “Ah, yes. Love and fear have been the greatest motivators throughout human history.”

  Love and fear? James could check both on the list. Love for Ellen, the woman he could never have, and fear for her very life. His life meant nothing. Who would miss a no account banker?

  He dropped into the sofa. “Just tell me what to do next.”

  ***

  “Hurry, dear, you can’t keep Mr. Hurst waiting.” Aunt Louisa grabbed Ellen’s arm and propelled her into the hallway. “It’s a blessed miracle that he’s willing to see you again, let alone show up at my residence to check in on you.”

  Ellen patted her chignon and descended the wide, circular staircase that led to the two-story entrance hall of her aunt’s mansion. What
would it be like to marry a man like Uncle who had enough money to purchase such a splendid home? Back in Wheaton, the Ingrams’ house with the wraparound porch was spacious enough, but certainly not worthy of jaw-dropping awe.

  Carter Hurst waited, smiling, at the bottom of the steps. His dress coat and pants were tailored to perfection. Sunlight poured through the front windows, radiating over his golden-boy looks. Any woman would have been proud to find such a man paying her a call, but Ellen’s heart dropped into her stomach.

  No dizziness. No pounding. No warmth trailing through her chest. Carter inspired none of the influenza-like symptoms of love.

  “Miss Ingram.” He approached. She stretched out her hands, and he gave them a light squeeze. “What an ordeal you went through last night. They whisked you away so quickly. I didn’t get a chance to assess your health. I had a difficult time resting at all last night without knowing if you were well.”

  “I am well, thank you, Mr. Hurst.” Ellen motioned to the parlor.

  Aunt Louisa gave instructions to a serving girl, then padded after them. “Mr. Hurst, we are so honored by your inquiry. Aren’t we, Ellen?”

  “Of course we are.” Ellen sat in a carved walnut arm chair, the floral pattern cushion her favorite in the room.

  Carter took the cherry wood sofa with the three crested hand-carved waves. The olive green, velveteen fabric made his skin appear paler. “I believe Mr. McCormick’s efforts were fruitful last night.”

  Aunt Louisa fanned herself. “What a relief. I didn’t sleep a moment last night, so worried that Ellen’s unfortunate event distracted from the great cause. You do know, Mr. Hurst, Ellen is not given to falling from boats. I’m sure she’ll promise you that this occasion will never happen again.” Aunt gave her a pointed look.

  Which Ellen ignored. “Indeed, I’m happy to hear that the Art Institute will be able to move into a bigger building.”

  “Yes.” Her aunt grinned. “We do love art. So much.”

  Uncle Garrett leaned a head into the room. “Please excuse me, but I must borrow Mrs. Danby for a moment.”

  Despite Aunt Louisa’s moans about the rudeness of leaving an honored guest, Uncle Garret ushered her away. He turned at the last moment to wink at Ellen.

  Who knew Cupid’s agents traveled in fifty-year-old pudgy bodies?

  The moment they left the room, Carter scooted to the edge of the couch and reached for her hand. His touch failed to inspire the blood rush that James’s arms had last evening in the carriage. But maybe a kiss would? Ellen saved that thought for later pondering.

  “Miss Ingram—Ellen—I’m glad your relations and that glowering friend of your brother’s aren’t around. Might we speak plain? Forget normal social rules?”

  With a squeeze to his hand, she smiled. “I’d like that. The rules here are much tighter than we keep in Wheaton.”

  “Do you plan to go back to Wheaton at the end of the month?”

  “That depends. I can’t stay with the Danby’s, but I hope to find another situation.”

  Whereas James gave tight-lipped smiles, Carter broke into a goofy, full-toothed grin. The sun rose in his face. “Another situation? I like the sound of that. In fact, I like you a lot, Ellen. You aren’t stuffy like the girls who grew up here. Your intentions are plain as day, nothing coy.”

  He moved closer.

  “My … my intentions?”

  “Clear like water, well, not that the water in this city is clear, but you get the general idea.” He pulled her to her feet and pressed a hard kiss on her mouth. He didn’t cradle her head or wrap her in his arms. His movement was all power and force. When he stepped back, her lips hurt.

  “Carter, I … I don’t know what to say.” Ellen fought the urge to wipe her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Handsome and rich described Carter perfectly, but that’s all she knew about him. At least she now had an answer. Not all kisses were magical.

  James’s voice floated into her mind. You shouldn’t flaunt yourself in a man’s direction.

  Slow down with Carter. What if he’s not the man for you?

  Oh! Stupid Ellen.

  Carter gave another sunshine grin as he caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs. “Say you’ll accompany me two nights from today to the Chicago Opera House. Pirates of Penzance is showing.”

  “I do like pirates.” With a light tug, she removed her hands from his and paced to the large window that overlooked the street. Carriages clomped by and sunlight dripped over the homes across the divide. A cool draft seeped in through the windowpane and Ellen rubbed her arms. “I’d have to ask my aunt if she can spare me that night.”

  “Spare you?” Aunt Louisa burst through the door. “Of course I can spare you. I can spare you anytime that Mr. Hurst desires your company.”

  “Anytime?” The left side of Carter’s lip twitched as he eyed Ellen.

  “Well, besides this very moment, because I require Ellen’s assistance selecting hat designs.”

  Ellen spun to face her aunt. “We’re leaving? But where is James? He wasn’t at breakfast. Shouldn’t we wait for him to return?”

  “You concern yourself far too much with that banker’s business.” Aunt Louisa extended a hand to Carter. “Mr. Hurst will attest to the fact that young men should be allowed time alone to do whatever they wish.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Danby, boys must be boys.” He inclined his head and bid his farewell.

  ***

  Travel to the shopping district took longer than expected. The carriage wheels sank in the deep mud that slathered the streets. Aunt Louisa harrumphed.

  Ellen toyed with the strap of her reticule. “We should have taken a cable car.”

  “I think not. A cable car? I’d never.” Aunt yanked her gloves higher up her arms.

  “But I read that Chicago boasts the largest cable car system in the world. Don’t you think that’s exciting? Why not make use of it?”

  Aunt Louis tisked. “My dear girl. Your pride in Chicago’s accomplishments is admirable, but your desire for common transport is not. My husband is not who he is because he enjoys middle-class finery. Not everyone can afford to keep a carriage and team in town. It would simply disgrace him if we used the cable car.”

  “But I am middle class, Aunt.”

  Reaching across the space of the bench, Aunt Louisa patted Ellen’s hand in an uncharacteristic show of affection. “Sadly, yes you are, but you will not always be. The young Hurst seems taken with you, and he wants to escort you to the opera. That’s promising. Continue to bat your eyes at that one, dear.”

  James’s caution echoed in her head. “But I don’t know him. Perhaps I should slow down.”

  “Slow down? Goodness, no. Absolutely not.” Aunt Louis jiggled her head back and forth. “Anything but that. You have his attention, now keep it and secure him.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “He’s the firstborn to a wealthy man. That’s all you need to know about him.”

  “Perhaps … I think I want more than that. I want love.”

  “Hush on that account.”

  “But don’t you love Uncle Garrett?”

  “Love?” Aunt Louisa looked out the window. “He provides a lavish life for me. I’ve never been in want. I have no complaints.” She shifted in her seat. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not blind to his intimacies with other women. But that’s the way these things are. And when all is said and done, his fortune is left to me in the will, not them.”

  Ellen gasped. “Uncle Garrett is an adulterer?” She would never be able to look at her joking uncle the same ever again.

  “That’s such a harsh word, my dear.” Aunt Louisa hugged herself and turned to face the window, but not before Ellen caught sight of the tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s not so bad. You’ll see when you’re married.”

  But Ellen didn’t like the idea of sharing a husband. Would Carter want to stay close to other women? What about James with Prissy? After he wed, would he still seek out
the company of the gypsy-eyed beauty? Ellen shivered.

  Perhaps returning home to a stepfather who didn’t want her would be better than a husband who vowed to love her and didn’t.

  The carriage wobbled to a stop and the uniformed footman opened the door. Aunt Louisa dabbed at her eye. “The dust around here,” she mumbled.

  But how could there be dust when everything lay covered in inches of mud?

  Ellen climbed out and moved to follow her aunt into the store when a man across the street caught her eye. The garish plaid pants, oversized coat, and bowler hat couldn’t hide James’s lazy stride. She knew that lanky gait better than her own.

  Peeking over her shoulder, Ellen watched her aunt disappear behind racks of fabric. Ellen twisted her purse string in her hand as James continued away from her.

  Last night, Lewis told her to follow James’s instructions. James told her to stay with Aunt Louisa. But what could James be up to? Not knowing made a fire burn in her chest.

  Ellen balled her fists.

  The two of them could shove their advice in their pipes and smoke it.

  Men shouldn’t be allowed to abandoned women so easily.

  She reached for the footman. “Please tell my aunt I can’t continue on with her. Let her know James Kent will bring me home.”

  The footman stammered as she rushed forward against the flow of pedestrians. James turned the corner, and Ellen darted down an alley. She could cut him off if she ran fast enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chicago, April 29, 1886

  “Psst. Pssst!”

  James stopped in his tracks. A man following at close proximity slammed into him, making James drop his suitcase. The letters he’d painted across the front—Dr. Swan’s Miracle Elixir—faced the world. Utter frustration. Not that the lurid plaid pants and drummer get-up Hugh forced him to don didn’t already announce the inane plot of this mission.

  “Psst!”

  A fraction of a moment later, Ellen leapt out of the shadowed ally and looped her arm through his. “Did you hear me pssting to you?”