Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1)

by Jessica Keller

Ellen rose from her dressing table.

  Aunt Louisa gasped. “Oh! My dear child, you are radiant today. With you on his arm, Mr. Hurst will become the envy of every man in town.” Her aunt stood behind Ellen, her hands on Ellen’s bare shoulders.

  The loden iridescent taffeta created a pleasing contrast against Ellen’s pale skin. A square neckline and capped sleeves would force her to wear a coat in this early spring weather.

  Her aunt slipped her fingers over the black, beaded trim dangling from the sleeves. “I believe I have just the necklace for you to wear tonight.”

  “No, you and Uncle have already done so much. This dress must have cost a great deal for you to have made.”

  “Nonsense. What’s the use of having money and not being able to spend it?” Aunt Louisa left the room in search of her jewels.

  At least her aunt seemed to be feeling better. Perhaps the enticement of a wedding to the Hurst family cheered her. Gain a Hurst for the loss of Louisa’s sister—more than likely a fair trade in her mind.

  While Ellen waited, she readjusted the black lace overskirt and made certain her bustle was straight. She stifled a laugh when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. James had been right about the effect of a bustle. With a well-aimed twist, she could send a vase crashing to the ground if she wanted.

  She fanned her face.

  Ellen had to stop letting her mind wander to James, but he had so infiltrated every aspect of her life, such a feat proved impossible. If she thought about the outdoors, soon a memory of James launching a snowball at her face splashed across her mind. If she tried to think about trains to banish her James-thoughts, she’d soon picture James in his gig waiting at the Wheaton Depot to pick her up from her breaks from Madame De Molineus’s school. And when that didn’t work, she thought about the chicken dinner she might enjoy with Carter today, which only made her think of the time the Ingram’s rooster attacked James when he was trying to help Ellen collect eggs.

  Oh. That intolerable man! How had he so effectively weaseled into every thought?

  Well, because she loved him, and probably always had. If only she’d discovered that sooner, maybe things would have worked out differently.

  She stomped her foot.

  Aunt Louisa hurried into the room. “Do you have a bug on you? I would hate if you ruined that dress with too much movement.” She laid a black necklace around Ellen’s throat. It hung close to her neck, spilling into a triangle of shimmering gemstones.

  Ellen shuddered as the cold stones rubbed against her skin.

  “A bug of sorts,” Ellen muttered. Then she rested her gloved hand on the necklace. “Aunt Louisa, I don’t think I should wear something this nice.”

  “Of course you should. You must prove to all the bluebloods today that you deserve the young Hurst’s hand. It would be terrible to marry him, then for all the socialites in the city to hold you in contempt.”

  The Danby’s maid peeked into Ellen’s bedchamber. “Excuse me, Miss, Mr. Hurst has arrived.”

  Aunt Louisa shooed the tiny maid away. “Good, good. Now you wait up here for six more minutes and I’ll entertain Hurst.”

  Ellen shrugged. “But I am ready. Why keep him waiting?”

  Her aunt patted her cheek. “Let a man wait for you. They like to think you are trying to become more beautiful for them. And when you come down, make no excuse for taking longer than required.”

  Even though she didn’t agree, Ellen followed her aunt’s instructions. Tapping her toe, she counted to sixty, six times, and then descended the stairs.

  Carter got to his feet when she entered the room. “Why, Miss Ingram, I didn’t know it was possible for you to be more beautiful than you already were. You’ve proven me wrong today.”

  Aunt Louisa giggled. She at least had the good sense to look embarrassed afterwards.

  Carter offered his forearm, and Ellen placed her hand on top of it. “Mrs. Danby, as I said earlier, there may be a possibility that I will have Miss Ingram out later than expected. With all the traffic and such, I cannot estimate how long our ride home will take.”

  “It’s no matter,” Aunt Louisa fawned. “I know she is safe with you. Mr. Danby and I won’t have a worry about her all evening.”

  He led Ellen to a red carriage. The doors bore the Hurst family crest, painted in gold. A matching pair of black horses and two uniformed coachmen waited for them.

  Ellen schooled herself not to let her mouth hang open.

  The inside of the carriage boasted furs and richly embroidered pillows. If the Hursts had this much money, then she would indeed be able to help the poor. She hooked her arm through his when he sat down. He smiled down at her.

  Her plan would work perfectly.

  Carter removed his hat. “So, what have you been doing to occupy your time during your visit to Chicago? Have you taken in any of the sites?”

  The sites? Well, she’d been to The Rat Palace, Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, the bubbly branch of the Chicago River, and Behind the Yards. None of those seemed like good places to admit to Carter. Knowing the girl he stepped out with had only last night been covered to her knees in mire would do nothing to encourage affection.

  Ellen wound the strap on her reticule. “I’ve been with my aunt. We left to go hat shopping the other day.”

  Which wasn’t a lie. She had gone. She just never made it into the shop.

  “That’s a shame. I’m convinced this is the best city in the world. I’ll have the driver take us by the Home Insurance Building. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen it.”

  “Is that the new steel building? They say it’s the tallest ever built.”

  His lips pulled to reveal a toothy smile. “I’m pleased you are up to date on these things.”

  “You don’t mind a girl who reads the paper—who stays informed?”

  “Not at all. Times are changing and we must change with them. A woman should be able to speak about local news and hold knowledgeable conversation. Believe me—no man wants to hear about dancing, novels, and stitching all day. It’s a blessed relief that you read the paper.”

  What a boon! If Carter was forward-thinking, he’d be on board when she wanted to use her station as his wife to fundraise for the poor. “Have you read about the labor uprisings?”

  “Yes.” He tugged at this sleeves. “They are radicals who only have themselves to blame for their troubles.”

  Not quite the answer she hoped for, but she could work on him.

  Carter launched into a long monologue about his family’s real estate business. She really should listen if she planned to someday bear the name, but hearing how much plots in the good parts of town were selling for didn’t interest her.

  “Can you believe he paid $2,250,000 to build it?”

  Ellen snapped to attention. “Build what?”

  “Palmer House. I’m taking you to eat there before the opera.” His eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you been listening?”

  The carriage slowed, and Ellen leaned to look out of the window. She craned her neck to see the top of the building in front of them. Her breath caught in her throat.

  A footman opened the door and ushered them onto the walkway.

  Carter’s chest puffed with Chicago pride. “Here we have it, the world’s tallest steel-framed building.”

  “My word, it reaches all the way to the sky. I thought they said it was made out of metal?” She marveled at the stone walls.

  His animation took on childlike enthusiasm. He spoke with his hands. “The skeleton of the structure has steel beams, but the exterior is covered in stone.”

  She walked closer and touched the wall. “It’s a wonder that the beams can hold all that weight.” Looking up, Ellen counted the rows of windows. “Ten stories. Could it really be that tall?”

  “I advised my father to invest when they were building, but he refused. He’s stuck on the old ways of doing things. He can’t comprehend that we’re moving into a new age and that he needs to take risks
with his investments.” He took her elbow and guided her back into the carriage. “When I have control of the money, I’ll do things differently.”

  She sat, fixing her skirt so it fanned out correctly. “What would you do with it?”

  “I’d invest in new technology, every chance I got.” He turned to face her, seizing her hands in the process. “See, that’s why we have to have a quick engagement. My father promised to grant me access to half my inheritance once I’m wed. I know we only met recently but once the check on your background goes through, I think we should pick a wedding date.”

  “The check on my background?” She withdrew her hands and clasped them together in her lap. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “My father hired a Tabor private detective to look into your family. You can’t believe we’d make a blind merger.”

  ***

  James’s hand froze before he knocked on the ornate door.

  He didn’t want to do this—didn’t have to. He turned to leave.

  Sure, he’d promised Ellen he’d ask Hattie Prisimon’s forgiveness, but now Ellen was out of the picture. It’s not like she would know.

  Ellen was out of his life forever.

  If he could have been sure that no one would catch him, he would have banged his head against the door. Even if she never knew it, he’d keep his word to her.

  James spun around again and rapped on the door. A curly-haired servant showed him into the sitting room.

  Moments later, Hattie shuffled in. Her drab brown dress swished as she walked. When James met her gaze, his heart squeezed with compassion for the unfortunate girl.

  Ellen had been right.

  Hattie’s swollen eyes and red-patched skin spoke of tears—ones his careless words had no doubt caused. He might not have any desire to form a romantic attachment to her, but he could be a friend. Besides, she couldn’t help her appearances and clothing. They were her mother’s fault. And with the right man, her conversation skills would improve. James knew that better than most. He usually failed at small talk with everyone but Ellen and Lewis.

  He stood and bowed his head. “Miss Prisimon, I’ve come this morning to ask your forgiveness. I spoke unkindly to you the other night during McCormick’s boat ride.”

  She hugged her stomach. “It’s all right. I should know … I’m not very good at all this. I don’t like going to those things, but she always makes me.”

  “Your mother?” James took a step closer.

  “Yes. She can’t understand that I’m not made for this life.” Hattie dropped into the nearest chair and hid her face in her hands.

  James took the seat beside hers and kept his voice low. “If you don’t mind my saying, I believe you can do whatever you want with your life. Whether it be to find a man and settle here in town, or join a traveling show. Whatever you wish.”

  Hattie burst out laughing. “A traveling show? That’s worse than my real dream. It makes what I want almost sound plausible.”

  “And what is that?”

  She shook her head so vigorously he feared for her brain.

  James reached over and held her hand. He prayed she wouldn’t read more into the gesture than friendship. “Please share. I promise not to tell anyone.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hattie released his hand and stood. “A few months ago I heard a talk given by the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society. The keynote speaker had such passion when she spoke of the people all over the world who don’t know about the Lord. She’s looking for volunteers to send to Madagascar.”

  “And you wish to support them?”

  “No. I want to go. I went to the library and read what I could about the island. Did you know they have no snow there?” As she spoke, Hattie’s eyes brightened and her hands grew animated. “I hate snow.”

  James shifted in his seat. “You want to leave your life here and become a missionary?”

  Hattie stopped pacing, and her shoulders sagged. “You believe I’m foolish.”

  “No, on the contrary. I respect you and I think you’re courageous. If you go, think of all the adventures you’ll have. We’ll all be back here living sedate lives while you’re off in the wilds taming tigers.”

  “I don’t believe there are tigers in Madagascar.”

  James shrugged.

  “Thank you for coming today, Mr. Kent. You’ve done a world of good.” Hattie offered her hands, and he took them. An uncharacteristic smile lit her face, and she looked pretty.

  “My pleasure.” He reached into his pocket. “Allow me to leave my card as a pledge. If you become a missionary, I’d like to do what I could to support your endeavors.”

  She walked him to the front door and, right before he left, touched his elbow. “And Mr. Kent, don’t let Miss Ingram get away. It’s plain to everyone that you two are meant for each other.”

  James blinked, and his stomach knotted. Not trusting his voice to say good-bye, he tipped his hat, and left to find Hugh.

  ***

  Ellen released Carter’s arm and gazed at the ceiling in awe. For all the gold trim, crystal chandeliers, and exquisite murals, the Palmer House Hotel might as well have been a palace. She first thought the exterior, with its front cylindrical tower, could not hold up to the luxuriousness it promised. But she’d been wrong.

  Her shoes clipped along the marble entryway as she took in the large golden statues flanking the grand staircase and the two-story lobby. People milled on the second level, leaning on the railing. A banner proclaiming The World’s Only Fire Proof Hotel hung near the check-in desk.

  “If I live to be a hundred and three, I don’t believe I’ll ever see anything more lavish than this.” She turned back to Carter with a sunshine smile. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  He took her hand. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  They ascended the stairs and walked past red velvet chairs and Corinthian columns. Mirrors covered the walls, making the hotel feel even grander.

  Carter ushered her into the main dining room which boasted the largest light fixture Ellen had ever seen. And electricity! Stuffed heads of game animals were mounted on the walls of the huge room. Despite it being dreary outside, the large windows flanking the dining area brought in enough light to give a cheery atmosphere. Her feet sank into the rich carpeting as she glided to the table. A waiter appeared immediately. Carter didn’t even look at the fancy, colored menu before he ordered them both the filet special.

  “This place is amazing. It feels like a dream.” Ellen sipped her water from her crystal goblet.

  He leaned forward. “They have a tropical garden with statues on the roof, and the floor of the barber’s shop is tiled with silver dollars.”

  “You’re lying!”

  Carter smirked. “I’ll show you on our way out. You know, after we’re married, we can eat here once a week if you’d like. We could even honeymoon here if you love it so much.”

  Heat crept up the back of Ellen’s neck.

  Their food arrived, and Carter continued talking, “Everyone famous has stayed here. Mark Twain, Ulysses S. Grant, Grover Cleveland, and William McKinley. Someday I’m going to build a place to rival this.”

  She swallowed her mashed potatoes then dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “After your wedding, will you be able to? With the inheritance, I mean.”

  He slouched back into his seat. “No, not for a long while. Palmer’s a multimillionaire. It’ll take a couple very lucky investments before I reach his league, but don’t doubt me. With a girl like you by my side, I’m going to be successful. I can feel it.”

  “I don’t doubt you’ll achieve your dreams.” She offered a smile. Carter was in such a good mood, now was her chance to see if he’d support her dreams one day. “Do you plan on being a philanthropist as well?”

  “In our circles that’s part of the game, whether you want to support the endeavors or not.” He shrugged. “If I want someone to back me, I’d better donate to their cause and vice versa. It’s the way t
hese men work.”

  “Don’t some of them care about the organizations they support? What about McCormick’s efforts to raise funds for the Art Institute?”

  Carter looked out the window. “I don’t know. Perhaps he does care. I don’t know the man well. My guess would be his wife is passionate about the cause, so he does it to please her.”

  “Would you do such a thing for your wife?”

  He turned back to meet her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Do you have such a project in mind?”

  Ellen straightened her silverware. “Not a specific one, but I want to be of some good in this life. I’d hope a future spouse would support that.”

  When they left the dining room, Carter showed her the rest of the hotel. She nodded and ooohed at all the right moments, but her appreciation for the opulence began to wane. So much money was focused on one building when miles away people were skipping meals and going without shoes to make ends meet.

  When they climbed back into the carriage, Ellen sighed. “It seems like too much to experience the Palmer House and the Chicago Opera House both in the same day.”

  “The opera house is nice, but not so grand as the hotel. And the clientele is not all as agreeable, either.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “The manager of the opera wants to make the theatre affordable for all—meaning some of the seats go to the middle and working class. But don’t be anxious about it.” He patted her hand. “I have a box reserved for us, so we won’t even be on the same level.”

  Ellen shifted to put distance between them. “You don’t believe the working class should be allowed entertainment?”

  The carriage slowed to almost a stop.

  “They can have all the entertainment they wish for, but I shouldn’t have to share mine with them. Let the poor go to the circus acts and wild west expositions. Not our theatres.” He lurched forward to peer out the window. “Why have we halted?”

  Ellen squinted. A large crowd of people on foot clogged the intersection. Some hoisted signs, but from the distance, she couldn’t read them. Men from other stopped carriages got out and started yelling at the hoard of marchers.