by Jen Turano
At the moment, that fabric was tied to the bedposts with multicolored cords because Beatrix had wanted to avoid the temptation of lingering in a cozy cocoon of silk, her filled-to-the-brim schedule not allowing her that particular luxury at the moment.
“Good morning, dear,” Aunt Gladys said, strolling through the door, the lime green turban on her head paired with a lime green dressing gown. “I saw the cats wandering from your room, and I’m just tickled to death they’ve taken to you.”
“They haven’t taken to me, Aunt Gladys. Frankly, I’m somewhat confused as to how they got into my room because I distinctly remember shutting my door last night after we returned from the Christian Woman’s Temperance meeting. If you ask me, they’re unusually crafty creatures, and I’m almost convinced they’ve somehow learned to open doors.”
“They don’t know how to open doors. I open your door just a crack when I wake up in the morning so that the cats will know it’s time to wake you up for the day.”
“As I told Phantom, I’m perfectly capable of waking up on my own. I’ve always been an early riser, even before I took up a position, and I am now going to beg you to discontinue opening my door in the morning because I have the strangest feeling your cats are in the process of plotting my demise.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re delightfully dramatic?”
“I’m not dramatic in the least. I’ll have you know that yesterday when I woke up and discovered Phantom sitting on my chest, he licked his lips in a most telling fashion and then he went about the troubling business of stretching out a paw, probably so I would be certain to take note of his sharp little claws.”
Aunt Gladys sat down in the nearest chair, readjusting her turban when it listed to the left. “How curious. I imagine Phantom and the rest of the cats are taking your measure and then will decide if you’re worthy of their affections.”
“Who said I want their affections?”
“Shh, they might hear you, and cats understand more than we think.”
“A concerning idea,” Beatrix said right as a quiet knock sounded on her door, and Edgar stuck his head into the room.
“I’ve brought you a breakfast tray, Miss Beatrix. Everyone decent?”
“Of course we’re decent,” Aunt Gladys returned with a warm smile. “And how thoughtful of you to make certain dear Beatrix eats a good breakfast before she goes off to join the workforce.”
Edgar let out a grunt as he wheeled a tiered cart into the room that had a silver coffeepot on it, as well as a few different plates covered with silver domes. Stopping the cart beside a small table stamped with Egyptian figures, Edgar turned to Beatrix with a smile.
“Wasn’t certain what you’d care to eat today, so I had Roberta make you an assortment of dishes.” He lifted a dome from one of the plates, revealing fluffy eggs, potatoes, and toast, which he placed on the table before gesturing her forward. “Best get to it, Miss Beatrix. Starting a day with a good meal is imperative to keeping up your stamina, and yesterday you only made it through half your meal, stating you were running late and needed to get dressed.”
Beatrix’s stomach took that moment to rumble, which had Edgar sending her a pointed look, one that had her moving to the table and taking a seat. “While it is a lovely treat to be served in my room every morning,” she began, placing a well-ironed linen napkin on her lap, “I’m relatively certain it’s not an occurrence most working women enjoy.”
“You are not most working women,” Edgar countered, sending a disgruntled look to Aunt Gladys, who’d taken a seat opposite Beatrix and was already sipping the coffee Edgar had poured for her.
Edgar returned his attention to Beatrix. “Your aunt and I are currently in disagreement about your employment at Marshall Field & Company. She is still of the belief that having you work at the store will lend you an improved sense of empathy for working women. I, on the other hand, believe that after careful observation of how you’ve comported yourself since you joined us in Chicago, you already possess a great deal of empathy for women.”
“Honestly, Edgar, you make it sound as if I’m unaware of just how exceptional my niece is, when that’s not true in the least,” Aunt Gladys grumbled before she nodded to Beatrix. “With that said, I still believe your stint at Marshall Field & Company will encourage you to throw yourself firmly into the suffrage movement, much more so than you already have. You’ve already had your eyes opened regarding the obstacles working women face on a day-to-day basis, what with your suffering a demotion before you’d been employed at the store for even a week. That experience alone has left you understanding the plight of the working poor far better than if you’d merely read about it in a newspaper.”
Edgar inclined his head at Aunt Gladys. “While I agree that Miss Beatrix has gleaned some valuable experience through taking up a position, I’m not comfortable sending off an American heiress day after day to the mean environment Miss Beatrix now finds herself in.”
Aunt Gladys narrowed her eyes on Edgar, picked up a piece of toast, and nibbled on it, apparently unwilling to continue a conversation Beatrix suspected she and Edgar had had often as of late.
“You’ve not mentioned much about Norman the past few days,” Aunt Gladys said after she polished off her toast. “Has he come around to the store to see you?”
Edgar released a huff. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t delve into any matchmaking in regard to Miss Beatrix because you’ve been known to create disasters when you try your hand at that.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Edgar turned to Beatrix. “Last year, your aunt decided that Miss Georgia Lancaster, a lovely young lady with no prospects, would be the perfect bride for Sir Julian Newcastle, an aristocrat from England who’d come to Chicago to find a bride.”
“I would have thought he’d go to New York City to do that,” Beatrix said.
“My thought as well,” Edgar said. “But after Gladys convinced Sir Julian that Georgia was a lovely young lady, he proposed to her within two weeks of meeting her. Then it came out that Sir Julian was under the mistaken belief that Georgia was Gladys’s ward and, as such, would be given a large dowry once she married.” Edgar shook his head. “Sir Julian all but fled Chicago when he discovered the truth, and last I heard, he married a mining heiress from Nebraska and is now living high on the hog back in England.”
“I was perfectly agreeable to settle a dowry on Georgia. Sir Julian just never gave me an opportunity to announce that,” Aunt Gladys complained.
“Because the bounder ran off into the night, leaving poor Georgia embarrassed and dejected.”
“True, but Georgia is now happily married to Mr. Marcus Thurman, so all’s well that ends well.”
“Whom she found without any interference from you.”
As Aunt Gladys and Edgar continued to squabble, Beatrix began shoveling forkfuls of eggs into her mouth, wishing she were anywhere except in the middle of the squabbling. Washing the eggs down with a glass of juice, she pretended she didn’t notice that Aunt Gladys was now glaring at Edgar, who was glaring right back at her aunt, an unusual action for a butler to take with his employer, which left Beatrix wondering if . . .
“I have matters to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me,” Edgar said, turning on his heel and stalking from the room.
“He’s such a delightful man,” Aunt Gladys exclaimed right as Phantom slipped back into the room and immediately sidled up to Beatrix, rubbing up against her leg quite as if he wanted to make certain she knew he was back.
She elected to ignore the cat, turning her attention to her aunt. “How long has Edgar worked for you?”
“Thirty years, give or take.” She released a sigh. “I always thought I’d eventually marry the man, but as the years pass by and he doesn’t broach the matter with me, I’m becoming resigned to the fact that I’ll always be a spinster, surrounded by more and more cats.”
“I thought you never wanted to marry.”
“Oh, I didn’t,” Aunt Gladys returned. “But that started to change probably after Edgar had been with me for fifteen years or so. That’s when I realized he’d become quite essential to my life, but he doesn’t seem willing to move past the fact that he’s the butler and I’m, well, me.” She took a sip of coffee, set aside her cup, then smiled. “But my disappointment aside, let us return to the subject of another delightful man. You’ve not mentioned much about Norman since I joined you at Kinsley’s, what was it, seven days ago now?”
“I haven’t seen Norman since then.”
“He’s not been to the store to visit you?”
“Not since last week, which was, again, seven days ago.”
Aunt Gladys sat back in her chair. “Ah, so you’ve been counting the days since you last saw him. Interesting.”
“I haven’t been counting the days. You just mentioned it was seven.”
“And you’re disappointed that he’s not been by the store to see you?”
“Only because I told him to keep me abreast of any news the Pinkerton man may have discovered about that accident we suffered. I’ve been waiting on tenterhooks to learn if anything’s been uncovered, but Norman has neglected to give me a report on the matter.”
“He is known about town as an absent-minded sort.”
“He’s not absent-minded in the least,” Beatrix argued. “Granted, he does occasionally become distracted with unusual mathematical equations, but if you ask me, Norman takes advantage of his unusual mind by using it as an excuse to keep people at a distance.”
“Hmm . . .” was all Aunt Gladys said to that.
“Should I even ask what you meant by hmm?”
“I would think it’s obvious.”
“Not to me.”
Aunt Gladys poured herself another cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, took a sip, then smiled. “You understand him, and you’ve done so in a remarkably short period of time. It’s telling.”
“It isn’t.”
“It is because I don’t believe many people take the time to try to understand Norman Nesbit, but you’ve evidently done exactly that, which means you’re interested in him.”
“He’s an interesting man.”
“That’s not what I said. You’re fond of him.”
“I never claimed differently.”
“Perhaps I should have said you’re overly fond of him.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate the direction this conversation is traveling,” Beatrix said, taking another bite of eggs. She swallowed and frowned. “And because of what happened with Miss Georgia, I’m now going to recommend you cease all thoughts of matchmaking because, as Edgar pointed out, you’re apparently not very good at it.”
“Do you recall what verse the sermon was centered around last Sunday?” Aunt Gladys asked.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Humor me.”
“Well, it was a verse from Isaiah, and I mentioned to you at the time it seemed appropriate because it centered around looking to the right or to the left, and then hearing a voice in your ear, saying ‘this is the way, walk in it.’ If you’ll recall, I thought it was timely because I’d just been pondering the path I was supposed to take when I was facing dismissal from the store and felt compelled to take the path that would keep me employed.”
Aunt Gladys beamed at her. “Exactly. That then had me pondering the verse as well, and I came to the conclusion that the path you’re meant to take may include something to do with Norman.”
“An odd conclusion to be sure.”
“It’s not when you consider the unusual circumstances that brought Norman into your life.” Aunt Gladys nodded. “He’s already very protective of you, and didn’t hesitate to try to whisk you away when he thought I was a madwoman. Why, I’d not be surprised to learn his action left you a bit weak in the knees.”
Beatrix blinked. Truth be told, she had felt a tad unsteady after Norman had set her down, but in all likelihood, that was simply a result of having lost the feeling in her feet after having them dangle over his arm for such an extended period of time.
“He suits you,” Aunt Gladys proclaimed.
“He does not suit me.”
“He does because he’s your exact opposite and you know what everyone says about opposites—they attract.”
“Or try to kill each other.”
“There is that, but I believe Norman needs you. He’s always been rumored to live for his work, but a man can’t live on work alone. You’re a lady who embraces life to the fullest and enjoys living from one adventure to the next. And”—she held up a hand when Beatrix opened her mouth—“you need him because he’s different, and he’ll never bore you.” Aunt Gladys leaned forward. “Your mother has lent me the impression that you have no interest in society men, having used a nonexistent relationship with a Mr. Thomas Hamersley as a way to dissuade society men from pursuing you. That suggests to me that you’re not interested in gentlemen most ladies would be keen to become better acquainted with. Norman might be perfect for you because he’s not your typical gentleman.”
“He’s the most annoying man I know.”
“Which is exactly my point, dear. Can you recall any other gentleman who elicits that type of emotion from you?”
“Well, no, but with that said, Norman’s given me no indication he’s romantically interested in me.”
“He went shopping at Marshall Field & Company. If that’s not an indication that he’s at least curious about you, well, I don’t know what is.”
“He was at Marshall Field & Company to purchase gloves for Theodosia.”
“Or so he told you,” Aunt Gladys said right as Phantom jumped straight up into Beatrix’s lap, then took to watching her as she tried to finish up a piece of bacon.
“I’m not giving you any of this,” she told the cat.
“He might stop planning your demise if you share with him. Phantom loves bacon.”
“An excellent point,” Beatrix said, breaking off a piece of the bacon and holding it out to Phantom, who immediately devoured it. A second later, she found herself surrounded by cats, all of them mewing up a storm, their meows turning to contented purrs after she dispensed the rest of her bacon.
Shooing Phantom from her lap, Beatrix rose to her feet. “While I certainly hate to end this most unusual conversation, I need to get ready for work, so . . .”
“Fine, I’ll leave you in peace . . . for now,” Aunt Gladys said as she got up from the table and sailed out of the room, the cats trailing after her.
Shaking her head, Beatrix headed for the bathing chamber. After finishing up in there, she hurried to her wardrobe, choosing another plain white blouse paired with a black skirt. As she buckled her shoes, thoughts of Norman drifted to mind, ones she couldn’t seem to banish with any success.
He was the most annoying man she’d ever known, but there was something about him that appealed to her. In all honesty, her knees had gone just a touch weak when Norman and Theodosia had shown up at the store the previous week, which could very well mean that her aunt was on to something and that she was, surprisingly enough, becoming more than fond of a man she’d originally thought she’d never hold in any affection.
Chapter 19
As the barber at the Palmer House Hotel went to fetch a sharper pair of scissors, Norman smiled at Gemma and Oscar, who were huddled together on a bench with their heads bent over a pad of paper, making a list of supplies needed to build a peddle-boat.
He’d not had any intention of bringing them along to the barber’s this morning. However, Constance had shown up while he’d been enjoying breakfast, needing their mother to watch Gemma and Oscar while she attended a scheduled engagement because the children’s tutor had fallen ill. Norman had offered to watch them instead, earning Gemma and Oscar’s undying gratitude after his mother mentioned something about hosting a tea party complete with dolls for the two of them.
“How’s it coming?”
Norman asked.
Gemma lifted her head, eyes shining with excitement. “I think we have almost everything listed, but are you certain we can get all these parts? I don’t have much pin money left this week because I spent mine on . . .” She stopped speaking, sent Norman a guilty look, then bent back over her notes.
Norman resisted a grin. “Might your pin money have gone to those roller-skis you and Oscar were determined to make?”
Oscar began nodding before Gemma elbowed him, which had him stopping mid-nod as he sent Gemma a grimace, crossed his arms over his chest, and presented her with his back.
Gemma heaved a sigh. “Sorry, Oscar. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Oscar, clearly a boy who couldn’t hold a grudge long, turned around. “Apology accepted, but you might as well tell your uncle Norman about the roller-skis. I bet he could help us make them work so that we wouldn’t go crashing into things, like that vase you haven’t told your mother you broke.”
“Dare I hope it wasn’t an expensive vase?” Norman asked.
Gemma shook her head. “Afraid not, and I won’t have enough pin money for the next five years to pay for it. It was from France—a present to Mother from Aunt Alice.” She scratched her nose. “Maybe I should send a telegram to Aunt Alice since she’s in Paris right now and see if she could find another one of those vases.”
Norman frowned. “Alice is in Paris?”
“She’s been there for months. She’s taking an extended tour of the continent with Uncle Wallis.”
“Is she really?”
“How could you not know that your other sister is in Paris?”
It was a worthy question, and one that, regrettably, he knew the answer to far too well.
He’d not known his oldest sister was in Paris because he rarely bothered to take the time to know anything about his siblings.
