“He could have you arrested for trespassing.”
“I’m on a public sidewalk.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. She seemed unable to rile him tonight. “I still want to know what you’re doing here. You can’t possibly have any business on Prairie Avenue, especially at this time of night.”
“My business is my business,” Archie said, “and I’ll thank you not to presume you know anything about it.”
Sarah decided to change tactics. “Where are you staying now?” She smiled. “I hope you’ve found a warm place to sleep and perhaps a new position already.”
“I need to see Charlotte,” Archie said.
“I’m sure she’ll ask you the same questions. Besides, she’s busy. The Bannings have dinner guests.”
“I can see that. The Troutmans. No doubt Oliver has finally decided to marry.”
Sarah smiled quite deliberately again. “Both families are excited. It’s sure to be the social event of the year.”
“I know Charlotte is busy,” Archie said, “but I need you to tell her I’m out here.”
“Mr. Penard won’t let her come see you.”
“It’s Charlotte’s decision,” Archie responded. “All I’m asking you to do is tell her I’m out here. I’ll wait for her around the corner, outside the Glessners’ coach house.”
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, you’ll be out of sight from the Bannings’ house there.”
“So you’ll tell her?”
“What if she can’t get away?” Sarah’s lips twisted to one side. “She would want me to tell her everything I know, so perhaps you should tell me how you’re situated.”
“I’ll wait as long as it takes.” His tone did not waver. “Please just tell her I’ll be there.”
Sarah sighed. He was impossible. What he saw in Charlotte she would never know.
“All right. But you could be out there all night, you know. The dinner party will go late, and Mr. Penard will lock up the house.”
Charlotte had cleared away the vegetable dishes, and Mr. Penard was serving the salad now. After this final course, only dessert and coffee remained. Charlotte heard movement in the servants’ hall and looked up to see Sarah coming through the back door with a strange look on her face.
“Is everything all right?” Charlotte could barely stand to look at Sarah, and every time she did, she thought of Lucy’s letter. But something about Sarah’s expression seemed suspicious. What had the girl done now?
“Everything’s fine,” Sarah answered. “I suppose I should start washing up.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Fletcher would appreciate it if you did.”
“Where is she?”
“Her gout is giving her trouble tonight. The meal is almost over. There was no need for her to stay down here in pain.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Sarah said.
Charlotte tossed a dishrag on the butcher block. “Sarah, if you have something to say, just say it.”
The girl pressed her lips together as if to consider her options. Charlotte sighed and turned to begin cleaning up the butcher block.
“I spoke with Archie,” Sarah said casually.
Charlotte spun around. “Archie is here?”
Sarah nodded nonchalantly as she moved toward the sink. “He said he would wait for you around the corner outside the Glessners’ coach house.”
Charlotte wanted to run out of the house and find Archie that instant, but of course Mr. Penard would be looking for her at any moment to come and clear the salad plates.
Everyone seemed to dawdle interminably over the salad. When at last the dishes were cleared and the coffee served, Charlotte had seen every tick of the clock’s hand for the last hour. The Bannings and their guests moved to the parlor for the rest of the evening. Mr. Penard would attend them.
Charlotte’s opportunity came at last, and she found Archie right where he said he would be. Glancing around to be sure none of the neighborhood servants who might recognize her were in view, she let him squeeze her hand.
“I found a boardinghouse,” he said before she even voiced the question. “The woman who runs it used to be a friend of my mother’s, so she’s not asking for the rent in advance.”
“I’m so glad to hear you found a place,” Charlotte said. “I have a few coins saved—”
He was shaking his head. “I can’t take your money.”
“But I want you to have it. You lost your position because of me, after all.”
“You’re going to need it,” Archie said. “We’re going to figure out how to get Henry back, and you’ll be glad for every penny you’ve saved.”
“Henry is gone, Archie,” Charlotte said. “I have to believe he’s happy and will have a good life. Even if I got him back, a few coins would not make any difference. I’ll still lose my position, and then what?”
“Maybe you won’t,” Archie said. “Lucy’s letter shows that she has an idea what’s going on. She wouldn’t want you to let your son grow up in New Hampshire never knowing his real mother.”
“But what can I do? I can’t go to New Hampshire and demand Emmaline return my child. No one even knows he’s mine. How can I prove it? I never even got a birth certificate for him.”
“Lucy could prove it.”
“Lucy’s not here.”
Archie’s brown eyes pierced her moonlit gaze. “You can decide to trust someone, Charlotte. You can trust me. And I think you can trust the Bannings.”
“After what happened to you? How can you say that?”
“What happened was between me and Mr. Penard. The Bannings had nothing to do with that. Show them Lucy’s letter, and they might understand.”
“Might. It’s so risky.”
“You’ve been afraid for so long,” Archie said. “It’s time for that to change. You don’t have to worry about your husband anymore. If you can’t trust me or the Bannings, then what about the God your grandmother believed in?”
“She always said God had his way with everything.”
“But you’re not sure.”
Charlotte shook her head. She could not claim to believe if she did not.
Archie pulled her into an embrace, and Charlotte gratefully soaked up the strength of his arms around her. Suddenly, she felt they were not alone. But she buried her head in his chest and when they separated, she saw no one else on the sidewalk.
Archie was right. She was too afraid of every little thing.
Sarah had heard enough. She did not have to stay and watch them slobber over each other. She hurried back down Prairie Avenue to the Banning kitchen and the pots waiting to be scrubbed.
It all made sense now.
Why Charlotte cared so much about that baby that she would run herself ragged taking care of him on top of her other duties.
Why she seemed so secretive, so aloof.
Why the other servants said they did not know what she did on her days off.
Why she had become so “ill” when the baby went away.
What Miss Lucy had to do with it—clearly she knew the truth and had kept the secret from her own parents.
The only mystery was why Archie Shepard cared so much for Charlotte Farrow. But even their affection for each other could be useful, considering the way they were carrying on.
I could have her dismissed ten times over, Sarah thought.
31
A rchie slapped the rump of one of the blackest horses he’d ever seen. “A fine animal.”
“He’ll do to pull a small brougham,” Archie’s friend Finn affirmed. “He might not have the breeding of your Prairie Avenue horses, but he’ll do for Ashland Avenue. Our claim to fame is the mayor—right across the street.”
The coach house door stood wide open, giving a view of the street. Across the street, in front of the home of Mayor Carter Harrison, a gas streetlight glowed.
“He’s a good man. He believes in the eight-hour workday,” Archie said. “But never mind Prairie Avenue. I’m through with that.”
>
“You’re not going back?” Finn asked.
“Not even if they’d take me—which they wouldn’t.”
Finn took hold of the horse’s muzzle and began to lead him toward a stall. “The Chalmers might take you on here. We could run the coach house together.”
“I suspect Mr. Penard will do his best to make sure I never find another position in service anywhere in Chicago.”
“He can’t know everyone. The Chalmers have never been to dinner on Prairie Avenue.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Archie said. “I’m looking for a different line of work.” And then he would get Charlotte out of service too.
“You could be a lamp lighter. The fellow who lights them on this street is getting too old to go up and down the ladder. He can hardly lift it.”
Archie shook his head. “These gas streetlights won’t be here much longer. The city will change to electric lights soon enough.”
“Who’s that chap at the mayor’s house?” Finn asked. He let go of the muzzle and patted the horse’s face before stepping over to the open coach house door, leather reins in his hands.
“A dinner guest?” Archie speculated. “It’s ten minutes to eight. The Bannings always eat at eight.”
“You can’t get them off your mind!” Finn laughed, then shook his head. “No, he doesn’t look like a dinner guest to me.”
Archie strolled to the edge of the Chalmerses’ lot and let the streetlight bring clarity to what he saw.
The doorbell rang at ten minutes to eight. Wearing her best black dress and crispest white apron, Charlotte stepped across the foyer to welcome the Bannings’ Saturday night dinner guests. Elsie was right behind her to take the ladies’ wraps and inquire whether they needed any assistance with their gowns or hair. At the parlor’s arched double doors, Charlotte announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. George Moulton and Mr. and Mrs. John Walsh of Calumet Avenue.
“Is dinner on time?” Flora Banning asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlotte answered. “I’ll just see if Mrs. Fletcher needs anything.”
With a slight curtsy, Charlotte backed out of the room.
“What did everyone think of the mayor’s speech today on the fairgrounds?” Leo Banning was already plunging into conversation.
“He always gives a good speech,” John Walsh said.
“I can hardly believe the fair is ending in two days,” Flora Banning said. “One more round of parades and bands and fireworks on Monday, and it will all be over.”
Charlotte turned to stride across the foyer and through the dining room.
At the mayor’s house, the front door opened, and light framed the maid.
“That’s Mary.” Finn joined Archie under the streetlight. “She pretends she doesn’t like me, but I know she does.”
Archie elbowed Finn. “That man—he looks in worse straits than I do. What can he want at the mayor’s door?”
The two of them stood watching the Harrison home, where the maid had left the door ajar. The visitor stepped across the threshold.
“Why is she letting him in?” Archie asked.
“That’s the mayor’s policy.” Finn fingered the reins he still held in his hands. “Anyone can come to his house, and the staff is instructed to admit all visitors.”
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Archie said. He stepped into the street.
A moment later, Mayor Carter Harrison came into view in the hall that ran through the center of the house. At the sound of a shot, the mayor doubled over, and the caller bolted across the lawn.
“He shot the mayor!” Archie started sprinting across the mayor’s lawn. Finn was on his heels.
Two more shots sounded before Archie and Finn bounded up the walk toward the Harrison front entry. The commotion instantly unbolted doors around the neighborhood. The Chalmerses themselves sprang out the front door of their home and dashed across the street behind their coachman and Archie.
The mayor’s son met them on the sidewalk. “He shot my father!” Preston Harrison said. “I’m not going to let him get away.”
Mr. Chalmers was already tearing off his overcoat and rolling it into a pillow. “Go, Preston. Finn, you go with him. I’ll look after Carter.”
Archie could see nothing from the street but the empty hall. The mayor apparently had stumbled back into one of the main rooms. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes, but just barely,” Preston answered. “Let’s go.”
Mr. Penard was serving the soup himself these days, not bothering to enlist the assistance of the footman or another male servant. Charlotte lingered in the butler’s pantry as usual, waiting for his subtle signal that it was time to clear the soup bowls and bring out the baked trout and seasoned oysters. When the time came, Charlotte carried the tray of fish to the sideboard in the dining room, then moved deftly among the diners to remove their soup bowls and spoons. Mr. Penard began to serve the fish.
The telephone jangled in the foyer, and Mr. Penard’s eyes told Charlotte she should answer it. It was understood she would tell the caller the Bannings were at dinner and would return the call at the earliest convenience.
A moment later, though, Charlotte stood between the open pocket doors of the dining room. Penard, still holding the fish tray, flashed her a look of appalled exasperation.
“Mr. Banning, sir,” Charlotte finally said.
Movement around the table stopped.
“Charlotte, what is it?” Flora asked. “You know we don’t take telephone calls during dinner.”
“It’s an urgent matter,” Charlotte said. “I rather think Mr. Banning will want to take this one.”
“You’d better be right.” Samuel Banning sighed, threw his napkin on the table, and stood up.
Charlotte waited between the pocket doors and watched as Samuel Banning picked up the telephone in the foyer. A moment later he turned back to his dinner guests.
“The mayor has been shot,” he announced somberly. “He died ten minutes ago, at 8:27. The news is all over the city.”
The three young men pursued the shooter north along Ashland Avenue until he turned onto Monroe and moved east.
“He’s heading toward downtown,” Archie said.
“He’s fast!” Finn was running out of breath.
“We’re gaining on him,” Archie insisted.
A police officer and several other individuals had joined in the chase. The band passed Racine and Aberdeen and a collection of smaller streets. Archie was close enough to see the man’s features whenever he glanced over his shoulder at the crowd pursuing him.
He can’t hope to escape, Archie thought and pushed to run faster. They crossed Halsted, dodging and darting between the carriages and streetcars whose riders were oblivious to the event that had just changed Chicago’s history. Finn got new wind and surged to the front of the pursuers.
When the man turned again, this time left on Desplaines Avenue, Archie realized his intention.
“He’s heading to the police station,” he called out to his fellow pursuers.
The pursuers burst through the doors of the Desplaines Street Police Station right behind the shooter, who had approached the sergeant at the desk.
“Lock that man up,” Finn said. “He shot Mayor Harrison.”
In an instant, the sergeant was out from behind the desk to grab the shooter and pull him into a wire enclosure. The crowd around Archie thickened by the moment.
“My name is Eugene Patrick Prendergast,” the prisoner said.
“Do you know that you have killed Mayor Harrison?” the sergeant asked.
“Yes, and I am glad of it. He promised to give me the corporation counselship, and he has not kept his word.”
Archie turned to Finn. “He shot the mayor over a job?”
Finn turned his palms up and shook his head.
“Get these people out of here,” the sergeant barked.
Officers began insisting that onlookers clear the station and wait outside. In a matter of mi
nutes, hundreds of people had gathered, looking for information on the fate of the man who had murdered the mayor of Chicago.
Around the Banning table, forks clinked to plates and fell silent. Charlotte shuffled slowly to her position at the sideboard, where Mr. Penard had calmly set the tray of fish.
“Do you have any details, Father?” Leo asked.
“Very few. It happened at his home. He was shot three times at point-blank range with a .38-caliber revolver, wounded in the abdomen and the heart.”
“Did they see who the shooter was?” Flora asked.
Samuel nodded. “He was some ragged character demanding a city job for which he was not qualified.”
“Does this have something to do with all the anarchist nonsense?” George Moulton speculated.
Samuel shook his head thoughtfully. “No, Mayor Harrison was known to have sympathies with the labor groups. This just seems to be a man who was disturbed.”
“But the anarchists encourage crime as the way to right what they perceive as wrongs,” John Walsh argued. “Perhaps the shooter thought he was getting justice he was entitled to.”
“Either way, this is going to shake up the city,” Leo observed. “Chicago governance has no clear plan for succession in a situation like this.”
“Surely the city council will appoint a mayor pro tem,” George Moulton suggested, “probably first thing Monday.”
Samuel shook his head. “Any decisions such a person makes will have no legal standing. Leo’s right. We could be in for some chaos until a special election is held.”
Charlotte glanced from Samuel Banning to his wife and back again, wondering if they were even going to want the roasted wild turkey and trimmings.
Every muscle in Charlotte’s body ached by the time the guests had left—much of the dinner untouched—and the kitchen had been put back in order, but she knew she would not be able to sleep yet. At the end of October, the nights carried a threat of frost, so she took her cloak with her when she slipped into the courtyard to raise her face to the stars and ponder the distance of the night sky and its maker. She hoisted herself up on a ledge, gathered the edges of her cloak in her fists, and wrapped herself in warmth.
Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow, The Page 22
