31 

Archie 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 minutes, 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.

A better warmth spilled through her as she turned to see Archie moving toward her in the shadows.

He kissed her cheek. “I suppose you heard about the mayor.”

“Everyone in Chicago must know by now.” Charlotte examined him more closely. “Archie, you look like you’ve been in a train wreck.”

“Something close to that.” He leaned against the wall supporting her ledge. “As it happens, I was in the mayor’s neighborhood when the shots were fired.”

Charlotte gasped. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “I’m fine. We chased the shooter.”

“We?”

“My friend Finn and I. He’s a coachman on Ashland Avenue. We almost caught him too, but it turned out he was turning himself in to the police. By the time they booked him, five hundred people were there.”

Charlotte laid her head on Archie’s shoulder. “He might have decided to shoot at you. I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to you. I’ve already lost . . .”

Archie stood up straight and turned to face her. “We’re going to get him back, and we’re going to figure out a way to be together. I promise you.”

Charlotte tore herself away from his brown eyes. “I want to believe that.”

“Have you said anything to the Bannings yet?”

She shook her head. “I just can’t. If Lucy didn’t think it was safe to tell them the truth when she was here, why would it be safe now?”

“Nothing is ever 100 percent safe,” Archie said softly. “Sometimes you have to take a risk you’re not sure of because it’s the right thing.”

“My grandmother would call that faith.”

“She’d be right. She’d want you to have faith, wouldn’t she?”

Charlotte sighed and nodded. “She would have approved of you and the influence you have on me.”

Another shadow moved toward them, and Charlotte instinctively jumped down off the ledge.

“Sarah, what do you want?” Archie asked.

“I want to talk to you. Both of you.”

Archie sighed. “We’re listening.”

“I don’t know how to say this.” Sarah spoke so softly that Charlotte could barely hear her. “I know about the baby.”

“What do you know about the baby?” Archie asked cautiously.

Sarah choked on her words. “I know he’s Charlotte’s baby. I heard you talking the last time.”

“You eavesdropped on a private conversation,” Archie said, his jaw set.

“You were right there on the public sidewalk,” Sarah said in her own defense. “Anyone could have come by.”

“But you were the only one who knew we would be there. We trusted you.”

“Sarah,” Charlotte said, “if you tell anyone, I’ll lose my position.”

Sarah put her head in her hands. “Please. None of that matters. I know you don’t like me, and I know I’ve given you plenty of reason to feel that way. But this is different.” A sob escaped.

“Sarah, why are you crying?” Charlotte had never seen Sarah show an emotion not fed by arrogance.

“It was different when I thought he was an orphan and we didn’t know who his mother was. We couldn’t do anything about that, and I thought he would be better off with someone like Mrs. Banning’s Cousin Louisa. But now I know who his mother is, and I’ve been thinking about this for days.”

“Sarah, what is it you want to say?” Charlotte’s chest squeezed in on her breath.

Sarah swallowed hard. “You probably think I’m going to tattle to the Bannings. I’ve thought about it, I assure you.”

“Sarah, please . . .” I can’t believe I have to beg Sarah, of all people, Charlotte thought, panic welling.

Sarah shook her head. “No. I’m not going to say anything. But I think you should.”

Archie crossed his arms. “I can’t believe that Sarah and I agree on something.”

“I lost my parents,” Sarah said. “I was a lot older than your son, but I don’t think that matters. They abandoned me.”

“I thought your parents were killed in an accident,” Archie said.

“They were. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel they abandoned me. They were gone and I was all alone in that place and could never go home again.” She turned and looked Charlotte in the eye. “I don’t want your little boy to feel that way someday. Miss Emmaline isn’t even married. Everyone in New Hampshire will know she’s not really his mother. He’s going to wonder someday who his mother is and why she abandoned him. I don’t think that should happen. I think you have to stop it from happening.”

Archie put an arm around Charlotte’s shaking shoulders as Sarah retreated into the house.