Chapter 6
To Beatrix’s surprise, Norman, instead of retreating back to his mathematical equations as they rode through the crowded streets of Chicago in a hansom cab, took to telling her all sorts of tidbits about the city, making the ride downright pleasant instead of uncomfortable.
He started with explaining about the great fire of 1871, which saw a good portion of the city go up in flames, then moved on to telling her about Potter Palmer. That gentleman had evidently been influential with the recovery of State Street, making improvements to that area that would not have been possible if many of the derelict buildings both on and surrounding that street had not been consumed by the fire. He then pointed out stores he thought she’d find interesting on State Street, including Marshall Field & Company, before launching into a list of the churches available throughout the city, as well as parks.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Beatrix finally asked as Norman settled back on the seat next to her.
“Because you accused me of being inept at chitchat, and I’m now determined to prove you wrong.”
“And here I thought you were trying your hand at being charming.”
“Tell me about this Hyde Park where my aunt resides. Is it a fashionable part of town?” Beatrix asked, seeing no point in getting into an argument with Norman yet again, even though she had much to say about his charm, or lack thereof.
“Hyde Park is a perfectly respectable area, and it’s located not far from where I live on Prairie Avenue, which is north of Hyde Park.”
“If Prairie Avenue is closer, perhaps we should have the driver drop you off first and then I’ll continue on to my aunt’s house.”
“I can’t determine if you’ll be safe at your aunt’s house without personally assessing the situation.”
Beatrix waved that aside. “For goodness’ sake, Norman, my mother is hardly likely to send me off to stay with a mad relative, even if she is rather put out with me at the moment.”
Norman arched a brow. “You lent me the impression you enjoy a lovely relationship with your mother. Why is she put out with you?”
“It’s not unusual for mothers to occasionally become put out with their daughters.”
“My mother is never put out with my two sisters. They always seem to be in complete accord with one another, but again, why is your mother put out with you?”
“Aren’t we almost there yet?”
He consulted his pocket watch. “We have approximately twenty-four minutes before we arrive at your aunt’s house.” He tucked his watch away. “That means you have plenty of time for an explanation.”
She blew out a breath. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you the story behind me being banished from New York.”
“You’ve been banished?”
“For lack of a better word, yes. My mother, you see, became exasperated with me after I managed to get myself arrested while marching with hundreds of fellow suffragists through the streets of New York . . . and arrested twice, at that.”
Norman blinked, just once. “You were arrested twice?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He frowned. “You do realize that it’s a futile movement, don’t you? The majority of women enjoy having men take care of them, and men enjoy taking care of their women. Because of that, the movement is doomed to failure, which means you would be better off to find a different, less volatile cause.”
“And to that I would say this—men have all the say in our lives especially after a woman gets married. They have complete control over our finances, unless a woman is fortunate enough to have a father who has some wealth and foresight in setting up a separate account for his daughter, but most women don’t have that luxury. Men also have the final say in where we live, how we deal with children, and . . . well, I could go on and on. Many women want the right to vote because laws affect us, and yet we have no say in what laws are passed.”
“And you were willing to get arrested for pushing the right to vote?”
“It wasn’t as if I planned on getting arrested either time. The first rally was supposed to be a tame affair, but then the police showed up, someone threw something, and the next thing I knew, I was locked behind bars.” She shook her head. “The second time I’d gone to listen to a lecture. After the lecture, some of the women decided to take to the streets, wearing their Votes for Women sashes. I just happened to be trailing after them when yet another ruckus broke out, and before I knew it, I was behind bars again.” She sighed. “After my father posted my bail for the second time, my mother decided I needed a change of scenery.”
“Your mother must be exceedingly put out with you if she’s making you spend time with Miss Huttleston. I also have to imagine you’re put out with her because of the banishing business.”
“I don’t blame my mother. And because I’d almost gotten arrested during a frenzied protest about labor conditions in Five Points a few months before I actually got arrested those two times, my mother had good reason to be concerned.” Beatrix winced. “And then if you add in what happened with Mr. Thomas Hamersley, I really can’t claim to be surprised that my mother bought me a train ticket and sent me west.”
“Who is Mr. Hamersley?”
She rubbed a hand over her face. “I wasn’t intending on telling you about him, but he’s a friend of mine, and not of the romantic sort.”
“Is that because Mr. Hamersley no longer views you in a romantic way after you got arrested? Not that I would blame him for that,” Norman continued before Beatrix could respond. “No gentleman wants to court a woman with progressive ideas and an arrest record.”
Beatrix’s lips thinned before she gave a sharp rap on the ceiling of the cab, which brought the cab to a smart stop a moment later.
“Why did you stop the cab?” Norman asked.
“Because the only way I’m going to be able to resist pulling out my pistol purse again is to remove myself from your company.” She reached for the door. “I imagine now is the perfect time for me to try that running business you mentioned earlier.”
“You can’t run all the way to your aunt’s house,” Norman argued. “You don’t even know where she lives.”
“Given that my aunt seems to have quite the reputation, I’m sure someone will be able to point me in the right direction. And with that, allow me to say good-bye.” Ignoring the protest Norman called after her, Beatrix hopped from the cab, told the driver to take Norman to Prairie Avenue, then set off down the road at a good clip.
“You’re not wearing shoes that are conducive to a brisk excursion. You’re certain to develop numerous blisters,” Norman said, loping up beside her.
She picked up her pace, something that had Norman picking up his pace, as the hansom cab followed them from a few yards behind.
“Normally when a person bids another person good-bye, it’s a cue that their time together has come to an end,” she said, increasing her pace again, which he met with ease.
“I’m not letting you go to your aunt’s house unaccompanied.”
“I’ve traveled all the way from New York unaccompanied. I’m perfectly capable of making the last mile or so of my journey on my own.”
Norman stopped in his tracks, a wonderful opportunity, as far as Beatrix was concerned, to put some distance between herself and the annoying man. Unfortunately, she’d barely made it half a block before he was at her side again.
“You never explained why you were traveling alone. Was I correct in assuming your family did not have the funds to hire a traveling companion to travel with you?”
“Has anyone ever told you that it’s not acceptable to question a person about their finances?”
“I believe every one of my decorum instructors mentioned that at some point in time.”
“And yet you’ve apparently decided to ignore that particular rule even though, clearly, I don’t care to discuss my financial situation with you.” She slowed her pace and ignored that she was already developing a blister on her heel. “But to answer your original question before you take to pestering me, I was traveling alone because the lady who was supposed to accompany me to Chicago came down with a nasty stomach ailment.”
“Was she one of your friends?”
Beatrix decided it would take far too much effort to explain to Norman that Miss Munn was more of a casual acquaintance of Beatrix’s who’d been hired by her mother for the sole purpose of accompanying Beatrix to Chicago. Or that Miss Munn had only agreed to the position because she’d recently experienced a disappointment of the heart. Or that her sudden “stomach ailment” might have been a direct result of a certain gentleman by the name of Mr. James Elliott showing up at the train station with flowers in hand after Beatrix’s parents had made their departure. She settled for a nod instead.
“Do you still consider her a friend?”
“I wouldn’t abandon any friendship simply because of unforeseen circumstances.”
“But she left you to travel alone. I imagine if she hadn’t done so, she also would have cautioned you against pulling out your pistol purse, which would have then spared both of us our dramatic experience today.”
“Miss Munn wouldn’t have been able to dissuade me from threatening that man with my pistol purse, not when I was all but ambushed by that thief and acted instinctively.”
“I would say you acted impulsively, which is a great deal different from acting instinctively.”
She stopped walking. “Impulsively, instinctively, they’re not that different.”
“They are, and before you argue with that, consider that you reacted impulsively when you all but leapt from the hansom cab to dash off to your aunt’s house, when, if you’d acted instinctively, you would have known that it wasn’t a prudent plan because you’re ill equipped to travel such a distance in shoes that have an inappropriate heel on them for strenuous activity.”
Surging into motion again, she forced herself to keep an even gait, even though the blister on her foot was really beginning to make itself known. “Surely I must be closer to Aunt Gladys’s house,” she muttered.
“It’s just another two blocks.”
“Thank goodness for that.” As she strode down the remaining two blocks, she noticed that the lots were getting larger and larger, and she stopped when she caught sight of a tall, wrought-iron fence that seemed to go on for an entire block.
“That fence surrounds the entirety of Miss Huttleston’s house,” Norman said, stopping beside her. “It’s like a fortress.”
“A comforting thought since I won’t have to worry about anyone breaking into the house.”
“Or a worrisome thought because the fence could be there to keep people from escaping.”
Beatrix glanced to the fence again. “There is that.” She bent down and began unlacing her shoe, tugging it off a second later. Straightening, she handed it to Norman before unlacing her other shoe.
“Why are you taking your shoes off?”
“Because I’m getting a blister, and I’ve decided I’ll only get more blisters if I keep my shoes on.”
“But we’re almost to your aunt’s house.”
“Which means I won’t have to walk far without my shoes, nor will I aggravate the blister I already have on my foot.”
Norman took her other shoe from her. “Why didn’t you take your shoes off when your foot first started hurting?”
“I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing you were right.”
She wasn’t certain, but it almost seemed as if Norman’s lips twitched. “I see.”
“I’m sure you do.” With that, she strode forward, enjoying the feel of the cool cobblestones under her feet, which helped to diminish the pain in her heel.
As she traveled alongside the wrought-iron fence, she got a glimpse of an imposing house sitting back from the road, one that was almost completely obscured by the many trees scattered about the front lawn. Coming to a stop when she reached an iron gate that wouldn’t have been out of place guarding a fortress, she gave the gate a rattle. “How do you suppose we get in?”
Norman nodded to a plaque Beatrix hadn’t notice. “It says Pull the bell string.”
“So it does.” Beatrix moved to a black rope that was attached to an iron post, gave it a yank, then smiled when a resounding gong sounded from the vicinity of the house. “How clever.”
“It is clever,” Norman said, eyeing the bell string. “It must run across the yard, and look, the gate is opening.”
Directing her attention to the gate, she shuddered a bit when the wind took that moment to whip up, sending branches on a nearby tree scratching against the iron fence. It was an eerie sound and sent a sense of foreboding swirling through her.
Blowing out a breath, she nodded to Norman. “You really don’t need to come with me. I’m sure I’ll be . . . fine.”
“I’m not leaving you now,” Norman said, taking her arm and then walking with her through the gate and down a gravel path, the gravel causing her to wince with every step.
“You should put these back on,” he said, handing over her shoes.
“I’m not putting them on. They were killing my feet,” Beatrix said, coming to a stop before she reached the covered porch to look the house over.
It was an imposing structure almost completely covered in ivy. Three stories high, it sported two turrets on either side of the house, as well as intricately paned windows, light pouring from many of them. Shifting her attention to the covered porch, she watched as the front door slowly opened, revealing the large form of a man.
“That’s Lurch,” Norman said, tightening his hold on her arm. “He’s the butler.”
“His name is Lurch?”
“According to my sister Alice, yes.”
“The same sister who fed you the story about disappearing orphans?”
“Are you suggesting my sister made up a name for your aunt’s butler?”
“I am, unless that man now gesturing for us to enter the house tells us his name is Lurch, which I highly doubt he’s going to do.”
“Ah, Miss Beatrix, you’re exactly as your aunt described,” the man said in a booming voice that caused Beatrix to jump.
“We’ve been expecting you, but allow me to say that I find myself relieved to discover that your aunt was quite right about your possessing an independent nature. You’ve found your way to us after all. We were expecting you to be in the company of a female traveling companion, though, but I’m sure there must be a story about where she is and what you’re doing with a gentleman, who, if I’m not mistaken, is Mr. Norman Nesbit.”
“He knows who I am?” Norman asked in a hushed tone even as his hand further tightened on her arm.
Sending him what she hoped was an encouraging smile, Beatrix stepped forward, even though Norman was trying to hold her back. Tugging Norman beside her, she walked through the door of her aunt’s large and somewhat unnerving house, turning her smile on the man holding the door for her.
“I lost my traveling companion, Miss Munn, before I even got out of New York, and then acquired the company of Mr. Nesbit when we ran afoul of some train robbers.”
“An interesting development to your day, I’m sure.” The man inclined his head and smiled. “I’m Edgar, Miss Beatrix. Edgar Bosworth, butler to Miss Huttleston.”
Beatrix turned to Norman and lowered her voice to the merest whisper. “You really might want to consider having a bit of a chat with that sister of yours. Lurch indeed.”
“Edgar’s not much better, nor is Bosworth,” Norman whispered back.
Ignoring that, she smiled at Mr. Bosworth. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bosworth.”
Mr. Bosworth’s smile widened. “I can also see your aunt was right about you being a charming sort, but there’s no need to call me Mr. Bosworth. Edgar is fine, and it’s what everyone calls me, except for some of the mischievous children who live in these parts.” He sent her a wink. “They enjoy calling me Lurch, and I must say I find that amusing and have been known to take a turn around the street, hunching my shoulders as I go, which does keep those children in a state of high anticipation.”
Beatrix grinned as some of the anxiety she hadn’t realized she’d been holding about coming to stay with an aunt she barely knew disappeared. “I imagine it does indeed.”
Edgar inclined his head, his rheumy blue eyes twinkling. “And with that settled, allow me to welcome you to Hyde Hall.” He gestured around the hallway. “It’s a lovely house, filled with the treasures your aunt has collected on her many journeys, and I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. Your aunt has been looking forward to your visit and hasn’t stopped talking about the plans she has for you since it was decided you were coming to Chicago.”
“She does, but I’ll leave it to her to explain.”
Realizing that Norman was being far too silent, Beatrix glanced his way, finding his eyes narrowed on something behind Edgar. Craning her neck, she peered around the butler and found at least twenty cats sitting in a perfectly straight line against the wall, their heads turned her way, staring at her with unblinking eyes.
“Your mother must be incredibly put out with you,” Norman said, nodding toward the cats. A second later, he sneezed, sneezed again, and again, then began digging into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, which he promptly sneezed into.
“God bless you,” Beatrix told him when he finally stopped sneezing and turned watery eyes her way.
“It would be a greater blessing if God would take away my sensitivity to cats, as well as pollen, smog, and numerous other things, but thank you for that.”
“You’re sensitive to cats?”
“Why do you think I’m sneezing?”
“I thought you were recovering from a cold. I noticed on the train that your nose was red.”
“You noticed that?”
“You’re not the only one capable of being observant.”
Norman dabbed at his nose again. “Apparently not, but my symptoms on the train were a direct result of the cloying perfume the woman wearing the purple hat had on, which is why I abandoned that seat and moved closer to you, even though I was hesitant to do so because you’d proven yourself to be a chatty sort. You, however, weren’t wearing a cloying perfume but a more pleasant scent, one I got a better whiff of later when you . . .”
“When I what?” Beatrix prodded when Norman stopped talking right as a cat came streaking past them with what looked to be a dead mouse in its mouth. The cat stopped, turned, then trotted back toward them, depositing the mouse at Norman’s feet and releasing a purr before slinking off down a dim hallway and disappearing from sight.
“How unusual,” Edgar said. “Phantom never shares his mice, but it seems he’s taken to you, Mr. Nesbit, something I’ve never seen that cat do before.”
Norman dabbed at his nose and nodded. “Cats seem to sense that I’m sensitive to them, and being rather interesting creatures, they also seem to enjoy tormenting me by leaving dead birds and mice at my feet. Once I even had one climb a tree to slip through my open window.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t breathe for a good few days after that surprise.”
“Is that a dead mouse lying on the floor?”
Recognizing the voice as belonging to her aunt Gladys, Beatrix turned, but her greeting got stuck in her throat the moment her gaze settled on her aunt.
Dressed in trousers that had been cut off at the knee, and wearing striped stockings and a large, billowing shirt that looked as if it might belong to a pirate, Aunt Gladys was an unexpected sight, especially since her face was covered in something that looked, unfortunately, like blood.
Before Beatrix could process that sight, or determine why her aunt might be covered in blood in the first place, Norman appeared directly in front of her. To her utter astonishment, he then picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all and strode for the door.