The Pursuit of Lucy Banning (19 page)

“We’d better get the packages,” Will said.

Lucy resumed progress toward the carriage. “Will, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Let’s just make a bunch of children very happy this afternoon.”

Will opened the carriage door and leaned in for a stack of boxes. Lucy swallowed the knot in her throat and wished one of the packages were for Will.

Lucy ate the succulent roast turkey with the savory apple-walnut dressing Mrs. Fletcher only prepared for Christmas Eve. She ate wild rice, sweet potatoes, red beets, and green salad. She even ate pecan pie. But she wondered all the while what Will was eating for dinner, and with whom. And where would he spend Christmas Day? Secretly she hoped Leo would invite Will to the Banning celebration, but the family traditions were rutted deep and never varied. Their only guests from year to year were the Juleses.

Daniel and his parents would arrive for a late Christmas morning breakfast, as they did every year. Flora went to great pains to be sure Lucy understood certain long-standing traditions would not be disrupted for her convenience. The truth was Lucy did not want to disrupt traditions. It was awkward for her to encounter Daniel personally, but she wanted everyone to continue sharing their affections freely. While she was sure to decline an invitation to stroll if Daniel offered, it was imperative they learn to be comfortable with their families around them.

As Lucy sipped her after-dinner coffee, she realized she knew virtually nothing about Will’s family other than their humble station. Why had he not taken a train to New Jersey for Christmas? If Leo knew the details of Will’s family, he never mentioned them.

After the sumptuous meal and the family’s exchange of gifts, it was time for the Bannings to prepare for the late night Christmas Eve service at Second Presbyterian.

“Why don’t you come?” Lucy coaxed Charlotte as the maid fastened the gold chain Richard had given his sister around her neck. “The other maids always go.”

“I’m sure there’s still work to do here for tomorrow.” Mr. Penard always had a list of details to confirm or improve. Charlotte supposed Christmas would be even more taxing than the usual Banning dinner.

“It can wait,” Lucy countered. “Even Mrs. Fletcher goes to church on Christmas Eve. Surely she can’t begrudge you the same opportunity.”

“What would I wear? I haven’t got any church clothes.”

Lucy waved a hand. “There must be something in my closet that would fit you. Choose anything you like—and keep it as a gift.”

Charlotte protested further, but in the end, Lucy wore her down. Now she sat in the balcony at Second Presbyterian between Elsie and Archie and wore Lucy’s gray flannel suit. The skirt was a little big at the waist, but the length of the jacket hid the pins that held the skirt in place.

Second Presbyterian was as far from her grandmother’s small clapboard church as Charlotte could imagine possible. For almost three months Charlotte had considered the towering Gothic structure from the outside, and now she absorbed the experience from the inside. The stained glass windows under the arches were dim in the midnight moonlight, but she could imagine their brilliance with morning sun pouring through them. Hundreds of organ pipes glittered in the light of the candelabras standing in front of them. Just the greenery adorning the sanctuary must have cost a small fortune—by Charlotte’s standards, though a pittance by Prairie Avenue standards, she knew.

She had no voice for the carols, though. Words about a baby boy in his mother’s arms choked in her throat. Looking down from the balcony, she soaked up the families gathered in the pews below, grandchildren visiting for the holiday and three generations sitting together in many pews. Even in the pew behind her, a boy not yet old enough for school wriggled with Christmas delight well past his bedtime. Her own loss stabbed her. All her dreams of what her family might be already were dashed, and she was only twenty. If only her grandmother had lived to meet Henry.

Tomorrow was Sunday, but none of the staff would have the day off because it was Christmas and a day full of feast and extravagance for the Bannings. Charlotte was used to working on Christmas. On the farm, the animals still hungered and gave milk on holidays.

Henry’s first Christmas. It was little comfort to tell herself Henry was too young to know his mother was not with him on Christmas, or even that it was Christmas. Charlotte sniffed and blinked back tears she had not expected.

Beside her, Archie offered to share his hymnal and quietly took her hand. Charlotte knew she should not allow Archie to hold her hand. It wasn’t fair to him. He was a thoughtful enough young man, but nothing could ever come of his attentions. Just for that moment, though, just for a few seconds, Charlotte yearned for the kindness of a man’s touch.

At the start of the next stanza, she withdrew her hand.

 20 

I
s it a month in spring?”

“No, it is not ‘May.’”

“Does it come after the night?”

“No, it is not ‘day.’”

“Will I get somewhere if I take it?”

“No, it is not ‘way.’”

“Will I spend some coins?”

“No, it is not ‘pay.’”

“Is it the color of your Aunt Violet’s mare?” Will was getting desperate.

Lucy laughed. “No, it is not ‘gray.’”

“Will I find some in a barn?”

“No, it is not ‘hay.’”

“Do we do this in church?”

“No, it is not ‘pray.’”

“Mmm.” He thought harder. “Can I ride it through the snow?”

“No, it is not ‘sleigh.’ But that’s clever!”

Will shrugged. “I give up. I’m sure you’re sorry you asked me to play.”

“That’s it!” Lucy fell back in the settee in laughter.

“‘Play’? That’s the word?” Will asked.

Leo clapped him on the back. “You’re better at Crambo than you confessed.”

“I assure you, I truly was ready to admit defeat,” Will insisted. “My mind just doesn’t make the right connections for some of these parlor games.”

“You did very well,” Lucy said. “Your clue was ‘ray,’ and you came up with a lot of rhyming words.”

“Until I stumbled on the right one quite by accident.”

Leo stood up. “Who needs a fresh glass of holiday punch?”

While Leo carried glasses to the crystal punch bowl on the round table in the foyer, Will assessed the group. When Leo invited him to spend New Year’s Eve at the Bannings’, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he had thought it would be more formal than a group of Leo’s friends usurping the use of the parlor. He supposed both Leo and Lucy would have been invited to balls, and in fact some of the guests seemed as if they were dressed with the intention of going to a ball later. George Glessner was there with a young woman named Phyllida whom neither Leo nor Lucy had met before, but George wore a tuxedo complete with cummerbund, and Phyllida wore an ivory satin gown with generous drapes in the skirt. A colleague from Leo’s department at the university was there with his bride, married only two weeks so not yet disengaged from the unattached band of friends who had gone through school together. They were dressed nicely, but not for the ballroom circuit. Harry, David, Amelia, and Cynthia came as a group without particular pairings. Will met all these friends of Leo’s for the first time that night.

The rest of the Bannings had dispersed around the neighborhood to various parties. Even Richard had an invitation and was going to be allowed to stay out until midnight before a coachman would go fetch him.

Will picked up his empty glass and sauntered out to the foyer to the table encumbered with platters of food that seemed to rotate periodically but never disappear. Charlotte stood by attentively refilling punch glasses and offering delectable finger foods on small plates.

“Ah, Will, my good friend.” Leo spoke with holiday satisfaction. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening so far.”

“It’s a nice party, Leo. Not too stuffy.”

“You couldn’t seriously think I would invite you to a stuffy party.” Leo took Will’s glass and handed it to Charlotte to refill.

“Thank you, Charlotte.” Will took the glass back. The maid dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment of being spoken to but showed no further reaction. Will could read no emotion in her flat expression. Was it the result of unrelenting training about what it meant to be in service, or did she really feel no hint of excitement even on New Year’s Eve? The image of her ashen face the day he had encountered Lucy and Charlotte in the street in mid-October hung before his eyes now.

“Will, I hope you’ll take advantage of this opportunity to chat with Cynthia Sterling,” Leo suggested. “I’ve known her for years, and I’m certain you’d enjoy her company. As a matter of fact, she went to school with Lucy.”

“Which one is she?” Will’s eyes followed Lucy’s movement across the foyer and into the dining room and the way she glanced back toward Charlotte in a gracious sweep.

Leo playfully punched his arm. “Pay attention! In the green dress.”

Will looked across the foyer into the parlor. “Oh yes.” Cynthia was a striking woman, but nothing compared to Lucy. His eyes moved back to Lucy.

“Perhaps we’ll pair you with Cynthia for the next game,” Leo suggested. His eyes twinkled. “If you’re lucky, you’ll be next to her at the stroke of midnight.”

Will had no intention of kissing anyone at the stroke of midnight. Already he had decided to step outside for some air to clear his head shortly before, conveniently “forgetting” what time it was.

Charlotte carried an empty tray into the kitchen and prepared to refill it with tiny sausages wrapped in pastry, which she removed from the oven. Penard had given Mrs. Fletcher the evening off, while he himself stayed to supervise service at the party. Most of the work was left to Charlotte and Archie, the footman and assistant coachman who would be sent to fetch Richard at twelve-thirty. However, Mrs. Fletcher had prepared for two days and left an assortment of finger foods, desserts, and beverages that would see the parlor group into the New Year. Charlotte simply had to warm some of them periodically and make sure the supply was never-ending.

Charlotte glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. She was already dead on her feet. How would she last another three hours—or more?

Archie came in from the coach house, stomping snow off his feet. “Even the horses are restless tonight. They know it’s time for a party.”

“It’s all the lights, I suppose,” Charlotte said. “Everything lit and everyone dressed up.”

“How about you?”

Charlotte looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you the least bit in a party mood?” Archie asked.

Charlotte moved to the icebox for the cucumber sandwiches she had made that afternoon. “I hadn’t much thought of it,” she answered. “I’m serving and cleaning up, just like any other evening.”

“But it’s New Year’s Eve! Are you at least looking forward to the new year?”

Charlotte sighed. “I guess I am.”

The new year could hardly be worse than the one it replaced. Last year at this time she hadn’t even known she would have a baby and could not have imagined that experience would transfigure her existence. Last year there had been no Henry. This year he was all she thought about. Last year she had never lived anywhere but the farm, her life an open book to everyone who knew her. This year a crowded city was her safety. No, the coming year could not be worse than this one.

Archie winked. “I hope you’ll find yourself in the kitchen at the stroke of midnight.”

Ignoring him, Charlotte picked up the trays of sausages and sandwiches and headed for the foyer.

He brooded outside. With a party inside, no one thought to close the drapes, and he could sit comfortably in his carriage and observe everything that happened in the parlor’s glow. Two people. They were the only ones who mattered, and each time they shifted toward each other, his heart pitched anew.

He was the reason she had done it. Daniel could see that now. She had thrown him off for this architect from New Jersey who offered her nothing.

She was across the room from Will, but Daniel saw how her eyes lifted in the direction of his laugh.

How his glance returned to her as predictably as a ticking clock.

How she smiled across the room to him.

How he made space for her on the settee.

The way she didn’t want to move from that spot until he offered his hand to assist her.

The cards they took up together at the game table.

Daniel saw.

She was his. What was she doing in there? She was his!

Lucy almost stayed upstairs in her suite for the evening. She certainly had not wanted to go to a ball, and she doubted she would be missed at any of the extravaganzas to which she had been invited. Leo was the life of any party, and even though the group was small, it was sure to be the best gathering in the neighborhood. She just hadn’t felt like a party of any sort. She knew Charlotte was on duty and she could have rung for food if she wanted any, but mostly she would have been grateful for a quiet evening with a couple of books. Then Leo pleaded. He offered Harry and David for her amusement, and even tried to induce guilt by claiming to have goaded his friends into coming with the promise of her presence—as if anyone had to be goaded into coming to a party Leo Banning was hosting. However, when he revealed he had invited her old schoolmate Cynthia for Will, Lucy changed her mind and thought seriously about what to wear. The ribbon-striped fabric was lined with red silk, and a diaphanous chiffon frill cascaded around her neck and shoulders.

Lucy laid her last card facedown on the game pile and called out, “Seven.”

Harry responded by saying, “Cheat!”

Lucy smiled and revealed the card she had played. “I know the rules of ‘Cheat,’” she said. “I can claim my card is anything I like unless I’m challenged. In this case, though, it really was a seven.”

“And you really are out of cards,” Will said. “Congratulations. You win!”

Harry groaned. “I only had two cards left to get rid of.”