Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1) (11 page)

Lewis’s shoulders relaxed. “And he’s correct. I want you to do whatever James tells you. Do you hear me? He knows what’s best for you and he’s the perfect one to make decisions right now since I’m not around.”

“You’re here now.”

“Not for long. I can’t.”

“Why can’t you be around?” She grabbed his sleeve. “Stay.”

“It’s not possible. I wish things were different, truly. I just wanted to make certain that you were in good health. You weren’t injured today when you fell in the water, were you? This was never supposed to involve anyone but me. If someone hurt you I’ll—”

She pressed her fingers onto his arm. “I’m fine. James fished me out in time.”

Lewis cradled his forehead, and his hair spilled forward. “Thank God he was there.”

“Where were you?”

His eyebrows knit together. “You can’t know. It’ll be best for you if you pretend I don’t exist. Live like you don’t have a brother. Tell no one in Chicago about me. Understand? Not even James.”

Why did Lewis hate her? Why had he only loved their sister Grace? How could he leave her with no family?

Tears filled her eyes. “Are you so ashamed of me that you don’t want to claim me as family any longer? Am I such a burden? You don’t even want to be around me.”

He squeezed her hand. “Quite the opposite. I’m a blight to you.”

“But you aren’t.” She sat up, throwing her arms around him. “Tell me what’s going on. I want to help you. How come you’re hiding?”

He shook his head in a slow, sad manner. “I’m sorry, you can’t know. Please believe I’m trying to protect you by not telling you. The more you know, the more danger you’ll be in.”

“But I’m already in danger. James says there’s a ring of anarchist spies after me.”

“James will keep you safe. I’d trust him with my own life. Do everything he says, but you must never tell him you saw me.”

Lewis moved to get up, but Ellen clutched his arm. “I don’t understand anything that’s happening. What is anarchy? How come no one will tell me?”

He placed his hand over hers. “It’s a complex belief. But someone who stands for the cause would argue that citizens do not have an obligation to obey a government when its laws go against individual independence. An anarchist tears down corrupt leaders and credits the people with enough sense to govern their own persons.”

“But why are they in America? Our government isn’t corrupt.”

He stood. “That would depend upon who you asked.”

Ellen squinted in an attempt to read his expression. “Whose side are you on?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just stay away from it. Go to the dances, make friends, and enjoy
life
. Do that, Ellen. It’s the only gift I can offer you.” Lewis shrugged. “And if you can … when the time comes, please try to believe the best about me.”

“I met Mayor Harrison at Cobb’s party yesterday and he seems like a very nice man. If these people believe that government is evil, they should speak to—”

Lewis tilted his head as if he heard something outside. “I have to go. Take care of yourself.”

“Lewis!”

In a swirl of black cape, he vanished out the window before she could say another word. She rushed to the opening and examined the street below. A horse whinnied in the distance as the streetlamps flicked shadows.

But Lewis was gone.

James flinched as the battleax drew blood. That’s what one got when they went poking around in other people’s secret chambers.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” Hugh closed the door to the private room.

James yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped his finger to stop the bleeding. “A pin-prick. I believe I’ll live. I should have known better. I ought to have walked straight into this room and sat right down. Why do you have all these weapons, anyhow?” James gestured toward the walls on which seemed to hang every manner of sword, dueling pistol, and ax ever created.

If he didn’t already trust Hugh, James would be worried for his life right about now. The butler had shown him to the end of a hall and left him there with instructions to find a door. No blasted door existed, just oak-paneled walls. After standing like an idiot for a full three minutes James traced his hands over the walls in search for a nodule or clue. When that didn’t work, he lifted paintings off the wall and peeked behind them for a latch or catch or anything. It all had to be some sort of test.

As a last ditch attempt, he picked up an ugly brown vase off the floor. A loud click sounded behind him, and a heavy door swung open. Gazing from side to side, James examined the small, office-like room. A large desk flanked by two chairs filled the back, and a small sofa took up the middle of the room. No pictures—just weapons—decorated the walls, and not one window. The best police raid wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the room. Hugh had built it with spying in mind.

Hugh crossed the room and took the seat behind the desk. He steepled his hands together, then pressed his fingers to his lips. “They’re relics, many used to defend people by agents through the last hundred years.”

“You mean the Cygnus Brotherhood has been around that long?”

“No, it’s a pompous name I created, but there are many spies in my ancestry. Their tactics have been passed down to me, along with their stories and triumphs. Some of these swords were used to duel French agents while my great-uncle ferried nobles to safety during the French Revolution and The Reign of Terror. My own father assisted with stopping the Chartist Rebellion in England.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of that last one.”

“Chartism wasn’t bad in theory. Much like the labor unions today in our city, the Chartist fought for better working conditions and treatment of laborers. They wanted to set up a system that could root out bad members of Parliament. But their movement turned bloody. They rioted, and their demonstrations became violent. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the rights of citizens, but there are better ways to enact reform.”

“And you fear the same with the Anarchists?”

“Of course, so far their methods have been above par, but their organization is more dangerous than the Chartists. They don’t believe in the power of government to begin with. How do you begin to fight against that? They have seized upon the labor movement and warped it for their own purpose. The Unions wanted an eight-hour workday. The Anarchists told them to lobby for an eight-hour day for ten to twelve hour pay.”

“And what do the Anarchists gain by joining the labor unions’ cause?”

“Don’t you understand? By convincing the people to strike for extra pay and less hours, they know they offer a proposition the factory owners will not consider fair. They don’t care about the laborers. Instead they are ensuring that they fail.” Hugh tapped his desk. “They are using this opportunity to create unrest and start a movement of citizens against the city leaders.”

“And the goal in all this?”

Hugh rubbed his temples.

James shrugged. “Sorry, I’m a simple country man at heart.”

“To stop them and effect change in a different manner. I don’t like people getting taken advantage of. Especially people who are hurting to begin with. We use my ancestors’ spying methods and stop them at all costs. Without the anarchists goading the people, the unions and owners can sort out the issues.”

“Why not just work for the police?”

Hugh shrugged. “Not my style. I prefer to control a small, loyal, well-trained group. I fancy making the calls. Arrogant of me, I guess.”

“So, you’re Cygnus?”

“Of course not. Cygnus is a constellation.” Hugh opened a desk drawer, cupping a small object in his hand. He motioned for James to take it.

The quarter-sized metal object rested cool in his palm. “A swan?”

“It’s our call-sign. The lore surrounding the constellation says that Orpheus was transformed into a swan and placed in the sky to keep him safe for all eternity. Or, if you prefer, that Zeus morphed into a swan in order to seduce Leda, who bore him four demi-gods.”

“Pleasant.”

“We, too, have to transform and leave the lives we know. You will be expected to put on any disguise given to you and follow all orders. You need to become Cygnus.”

“If I accept, what’s next?”

“Are you sure about joining us? Once in, I demand full commitment.”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Hugh stood. “I’m curious, why the change of heart? Two days ago you were telling me you’d never join.”

“Miss Ingram is in danger. You told me, and then I saw her pushed into the lake. I can never allow something to happen to her again.”

“Ah, yes. Love and fear have been the greatest motivators throughout human history.”

Love and fear? James could check both on the list. Love for Ellen, the woman he could never have, and fear for her very life. His life meant nothing. Who would miss a no account banker?

He dropped into the sofa. “Just tell me what to do next.”

“Hurry, dear, you can’t keep Mr. Hurst waiting.” Aunt Louisa grabbed Ellen’s arm and propelled her into the hallway. “It’s a blessed miracle that he’s willing to see you again, let alone show up at my residence to check in on you.”

Ellen patted her chignon and descended the wide, circular staircase that led to the two-story entrance hall of her aunt’s mansion. What would it be like to marry a man like Uncle who had enough money to purchase such a splendid home? Back in Wheaton, the Ingrams’ house with the wraparound porch was spacious enough, but certainly not worthy of jaw-dropping awe.

Carter Hurst waited, smiling, at the bottom of the steps. His dress coat and pants were tailored to perfection. Sunlight poured through the front windows, radiating over his golden-boy looks. Any woman would have been proud to find such a man paying her a call, but Ellen’s heart dropped into her stomach.

No dizziness. No pounding. No warmth trailing through her chest. Carter inspired none of the influenza-like symptoms of love.

“Miss Ingram.” He approached. She stretched out her hands, and he gave them a light squeeze. “What an ordeal you went through last night. They whisked you away so quickly. I didn’t get a chance to assess your health. I had a difficult time resting at all last night without knowing if you were well.”

“I am well, thank you, Mr. Hurst.” Ellen motioned to the parlor.

Aunt Louisa gave instructions to a serving girl, then padded after them. “Mr. Hurst, we are so honored by your inquiry. Aren’t we, Ellen?”

“Of course we are.” Ellen sat in a carved walnut arm chair, the floral pattern cushion her favorite in the room.

Carter took the cherry wood sofa with the three crested hand-carved waves. The olive green, velveteen fabric made his skin appear paler. “I believe Mr. McCormick’s efforts were fruitful last night.”

Aunt Louisa fanned herself. “What a relief. I didn’t sleep a moment last night, so worried that Ellen’s unfortunate event distracted from the great cause. You do know, Mr. Hurst, Ellen is not given to falling from boats. I’m sure she’ll promise you that this occasion will never happen again.” Aunt gave her a pointed look.

Which Ellen ignored. “Indeed, I’m happy to hear that the Art Institute will be able to move into a bigger building.”

“Yes.” Her aunt grinned. “We do love art. So much.”

Uncle Garrett leaned a head into the room. “Please excuse me, but I must borrow Mrs. Danby for a moment.”

Despite Aunt Louisa’s moans about the rudeness of leaving an honored guest, Uncle Garret ushered her away. He turned at the last moment to wink at Ellen.

Who knew Cupid’s agents traveled in fifty-year-old pudgy bodies?

The moment they left the room, Carter scooted to the edge of the couch and reached for her hand. His touch failed to inspire the blood rush that James’s arms had last evening in the carriage. But maybe a kiss would? Ellen saved that thought for later pondering.

“Miss Ingram—Ellen—I’m glad your relations and that glowering friend of your brother’s aren’t around. Might we speak plain? Forget normal social rules?”

With a squeeze to his hand, she smiled. “I’d like that. The rules here are much tighter than we keep in Wheaton.”

“Do you plan to go back to Wheaton at the end of the month?”

“That depends. I can’t stay with the Danby’s, but I hope to find another situation.”

Whereas James gave tight-lipped smiles, Carter broke into a goofy, full-toothed grin. The sun rose in his face. “Another situation? I like the sound of that. In fact, I like you a lot, Ellen. You aren’t stuffy like the girls who grew up here. Your intentions are plain as day, nothing coy.”

He moved closer.

“My … my intentions?”

“Clear like water, well, not that the water in this city is clear, but you get the general idea.” He pulled her to her feet and pressed a hard kiss on her mouth. He didn’t cradle her head or wrap her in his arms. His movement was all power and force. When he stepped back, her lips hurt.

“Carter, I … I don’t know what to say.” Ellen fought the urge to wipe her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Handsome and rich described Carter perfectly, but that’s all she knew about him. At least she now had an answer. Not all kisses were magical.

James’s voice floated into her mind.
You shouldn’t flaunt yourself in a man’s direction.

Slow down with Carter. What if he’s not the man for you?

Oh! Stupid Ellen.

Carter gave another sunshine grin as he caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs. “Say you’ll accompany me two nights from today to the Chicago Opera House.
Pirates of Penzance
is showing.”

“I do like pirates.” With a light tug, she removed her hands from his and paced to the large window that overlooked the street. Carriages clomped by and sunlight dripped over the homes across the divide. A cool draft seeped in through the windowpane and Ellen rubbed her arms. “I’d have to ask my aunt if she can spare me that night.”

“Spare you?” Aunt Louisa burst through the door. “Of course I can spare you. I can spare you anytime that Mr. Hurst desires your company.”

“Anytime?” The left side of Carter’s lip twitched as he eyed Ellen.

“Well, besides this very moment, because I require Ellen’s assistance selecting hat designs.”