27 

Where are you going tonight?”

Mary Catherine’s curiosity more than two weeks later pleased Sarah, but she was not about to satisfy it. She made sure the sash knotted at her waist was secure.

“Ever since we came back from the lake,” Mary Catherine said, “you don’t just dress nice to go out on your day off. You look like you’re going to a society party every time you leave the house.”

Sarah adjusted the tops of her sleeves and examined her appearance in the mirror. “Maybe I am.”

“You’re a parlor maid. Who do you know who gives that kind of party?”

I am not a parlor maid.

“I have friends. Maybe someday I’ll introduce you.” Never.

“You got me in trouble, you know,” Mary Catherine said. “You promised it wouldn’t matter if we traded that Saturday night.”

“It wouldn’t have if you had not opened your big mouth and told Penard ahead of time.”

“I didn’t have a choice! The way he asked the question—I couldn’t lie straight to his face. I promise I didn’t do anything to make him suspect.”

“Never mind,” Sarah said. “We’ll be more careful next time.”

“I’m not sure I want to keep trading with you.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Mary Catherine threw up her hands. “Have a good time, wherever you’re going.”

“I will.”

Sarah opened her top dresser drawer and took out the newspaper clipping. Leo had ripped something out of the bottom of the page Monday morning at breakfast and left the paper open. Sarah picked up the fragment when she cleared the table and scanned it without thinking. When she recognized some of the names mentioned, she paid closer attention. The names were not close neighbors of the Bannings, but they were well known in Chicago.

They were just the sort of people Brad Townsend would know, she had told herself as she tore the half-article out of the paper and tucked it in her skirt pocket. The Bannings themselves were not listed, nor had they given any indication they would attend the party the society page highlighted. Sarah’s plan had taken form in an instant and Mrs. Fletcher’s dinner menu for Wednesday night confirmed it. Flora, Samuel, and Leo would be dining at home, and there was no chance she would run into them.

Brad had not even acknowledged her note of regret. Words of his disappointment that he could not see her had never come. Was there any disappointment? As annoyed as Sarah had been at his making dates and breaking them, she preferred that to silence.

The party tonight could change the balance of their relationship. Serena would arrive at the party. She would meet people, chat with people, smile at people. She would glance over her shoulder at Brad and make him curious and wonder who she was with. He would cross the room to be with her. He would offer to escort her back to the Lexington.

Evenings were cool now, and Sarah was glad. She could wear a long cloak to protect her evening dress on public transportation. Her brown cloak was ordinary and was not a hand-me-down from Flora Banning or Violet Newcomb, but last winter Sarah had sewn in a new lining of sky blue silk. A simple practiced movement would flash elegant color at strategic moments.

Sarah made her way downstairs and into the back hall without acknowledging anyone in the kitchen. Where she was going was none of their business. She paused only long enough to put on the sapphire earrings before she found an elevated train and rode toward downtown Chicago. Two blocks from the hotel serving as the party’s venue, Sarah got off the train and flagged a hansom cab. The driver gave her an odd look and glanced toward her destination, which they could both see easily from where they stood. His expression suggested she ought to just walk. Sarah ignored him. Serena Cuthbert did not arrive at parties by train or on foot.

The hotel was modest—not nearly as lavish as the Palmer House—but the electric lights exuded welcome and anticipation. A doorman stepped to the curb to open the carriage door. Serena handed a coin to the driver and waited as a second doorman held open the door to the marble lobby. An attendant quickly took her cloak and directed her to a room where ladies could freshen up. Sarah took advantage of the amenities to be sure Serena Cuthbert would make a stunning impression. By the time she glided through the wide doors of the ballroom, Serena Cuthbert had arrived.

Sarah held her chin high as she surveyed the room. The silver gown competed well with anything she saw in the room. At the far end was a small stage and a collection of four chairs and music stands, but at the moment the only sounds to fill the room were the buzz of conversation and the rustle of full skirts. Tables were draped with gray jacquard cloths and adorned with pink roses. While the evening did not boast a formal meal, servers milled around the room with trays of appetizers and beverages. A young woman in ubiquitous black dress and white apron meekly offered refreshment to Sarah, who selected a shrimp canapé and held it delicately on a small plate.

She did not see Brad Townsend, but that did not mean he would not appear before the evening was over. Serena Cuthbert, though, would not wait for a man like a wallflower. Holding her canapé, Sarah drifted casually around the room, always seeming to be headed somewhere, toward someone, but without any real destination. She smiled and nodded her way in a wide circuit, occasionally pausing to converse with someone she had met at one of Brad’s political events. She did not see many of that crowd, however, which discouraged her. If few of his friends were at this party, would Brad himself come? Nevertheless, she chatted with his friends about the good news that Florida’s early voting had gone for William McKinley and the threat of William Jennings Bryan as a serious presidential candidate was fading. Bryan had already conceded most of the Eastern seaboard and turned his campaign efforts to the West.

As she sauntered across the far end of the room, Sarah finally ate the canapé and accepted a beverage from a passing waiter. She began to wonder what the musical entertainment would be. A string quartet, certainly, but what group would perform on the stage?

“Sarah!”

Sarah gasped at the voice calling her name and spun around. “Jane! What are you doing here?”

“Singing, of course, with the choir. Well, we’re not really a choir, just some orphans singing a few songs. But Mr. Tewell likes to call us a choir.”

“You’re singing here?”

“Well, yes. Didn’t I just say so? I love your dress, Sarah!”

“Thank you.” Sarah glanced beyond Jane and saw a handful of children milling around the side of the stage. Through the doorway behind them, she saw even more children in a hallway.

And she recognized them all. Every single one. Why was a group of children from St. Andrew’s Orphanage preparing to sing at a society party?

“Sarah, do you think I’ll ever be able to make a dress as pretty as yours?” Jane asked.

Sarah stifled the urge to simply tell the girl to be quiet. Jane had managed to say “Sarah” three times already—loudly.

Jane prattled on. “I suppose I’ll have to practice on a few more skirts and blouses, and maybe I should learn to use the machine. But someday I’ll make an evening dress.”

“I’m sure you can if you put your mind to it.” Sarah craned to look over her shoulder.

Mr. Curtis, Brad’s friend, was headed directly toward her.

“It’s lovely to see you, Miss Cuthbert,” he said.

“Good evening, Mr. Curtis,” Sarah answered.

“Did Mr. Townsend know you were going to be here?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” Sarah was counting on Jane’s polite silence. Though the girl had become more at ease with Sarah, she was still shy by nature. At the moment her eyes were wide and fixed on Mr. Curtis’s formal wear with silk lapels.

“I’m sure had he known,” Mr. Curtis said, “he would have made more of an effort to attend this charity event.”

Charity event? It did not sound as if Brad were coming, but at least now Sarah could be fairly sure he would learn Serena had been there. The evening was not an entire waste. But the presence of the children from St. Andrew’s and the description “charity event” made Sarah nervous.

After another moment of small talk, Mr. Curtis moved on.

Jane looked puzzled. “Why did he call you Miss Cuthbert?”

Sarah took a deep breath. “Because to him I am Miss Cuthbert.”

“Does he think you’re Sarah Cuthbert instead of Sarah Cummings?”

“Let’s talk about this over here.” Sarah put an arm on Jane’s shoulder and nudged her toward the wall. “Miss Cuthbert’s name is Serena.”

Jane’s eyes flashed. “You’re pretending to be this Miss Cuthbert, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly. I am Serena Cuthbert.”

“But you’re Sarah Cummings.”

“Jane, you write your dreams down in your journal, right?”

Jane nodded. “I used to. Before.”

“Well, I’m old enough that I don’t have to just write them down. I can make them happen.”

“That’s why you told me it’s okay to imagine.”

Now Sarah nodded. “You understand, right?”

“I’m not sure.” Jane creased her forehead. “Aren’t you lying?”

“Are you lying when you write in your journal?” Sarah countered.

“Well . . . no . . . I guess not. I’m imagining. Just like you said.”

“So am I. How can a dream come true without imagining?”

Alonzo thumped toward them. “Come on, Jane. We have to get ready to sing. Then the people will give their money.”

“I have to go now,” Jane said, and Sarah was alone again.

She let out her breath. She had exchanged political fund-raisers for an orphanage fund-raiser. The scrap of newspaper that had steered her here had not mentioned that detail. If only she had seen the headline.

She had to get out of there. Sarah set her drink down on the nearest table and maintained a stately composure as she took a more direct route across the room.

She was almost to the door when Emma Pearce grabbed her arm. “There you are, Serena! I heard you were here.”

“Hello, Emma!” Sarah offered Serena’s dazzling smile.

“I think it was a darling idea to have the orphans come tonight, don’t you? It’s lovely to think that someone is teaching them music.”

“I was not aware they had a choir,” Sarah said truthfully. In the background a string quartet began to tune.

“Of course, I hope they’re also learning some more practical skills,” Emma continued. “I doubt we’ll find a Franz Liszt or Johann Strauss among them. But they’ll be able to comfort themselves with a ditty now and then.”

“Comfort themselves?” Sarah echoed.

“They have such difficult lives and so little to look forward to.”

Emma stated this sentiment as if it were proven fact.

“If they aspire, they might achieve their goals,” Sarah said, a smile still plastered on her face.

Emma suddenly waved a hand. “Oh, there’s the orphanage director now! Mr. Tewell!”

To Sarah’s horror, Simon responded to his name and approached them. “Good evening, Mrs. Pearce.”

“Miss Cuthbert, I’d like you to meet Mr. Simon Tewell. Mr. Tewell, this is Miss Serena Cuthbert.”

Simon extended a hand. “It’s delightful to meet you, Miss Cuthbert.”

His words were even and polite. But he held her hand a fraction of a second too long. Its warmth lingered when she broke the clasp and squirmed under his gaze.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tewell,” Sarah said.

“I was just telling Serena it’s a darling idea to have the children here,” Emma said.

“They seem excited to sing,” Simon said pleasantly. “I hope you and Miss Cuthbert both will enjoy the music.”

“Serena, those earrings are absolutely stunning!” Emma said.

“Thank you.” Sarah surrendered to the blush as she felt Simon’s eyes on her.

“They are most becoming.” Simon tilted his head and gave a small smile.

“I’ll leave you two to get to know one another,” Emma said. “I seem to have misplaced my husband.”

When Emma was gone, Sarah swallowed hard. “Thank you, Simon.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes pained.

Sarah could not stand to look at his face. “I was just leaving,” she answered. “I think it’s best under the circumstances, don’t you agree?”

“You’re here, whatever the circumstances. Why don’t you stay and hear what the children can do. It would mean something to them.”

Sarah eyed the door. “You’re most gracious, Simon, but I’m certain it’s best if I go.”

She snatched her cloak from the attendant and ran for the nearest elevated train station. Only once it was in motion did Sarah allow herself to exhale.