The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow (27 page)

Lathan's words echoed in her head.

Then it worked out nicely that I never had a wife.

No, nothing between us.

The woman had called him her fiancé. Was he really planning to marry her—and was he free to do so?

One by one the cars unloaded and reloaded. At the platform, Lathan and his friends got off and walked across the platform. He never looked back.

Had she been afraid all this time for nothing? Was he ever her husband?

Had she given away her son needlessly?

 28 

W
hen Archie emerged from Cairo Street—kicking himself for once again guessing wrong—he determined he needed a new plan. He would stay on the Midway, visible and vigilant. His livery would make him easy to spot, and he prayed Charlotte would welcome the sight, not turn from his help if she saw him. As urgent as the impulse was to find her, he could not chase after every random swish of gray. Charlotte could be anywhere on the Midway—if she was even there at all—so Archie resolved to walk at a pace that would allow him both to cover ground quickly and to examine the pedestrian traffic thoroughly.

Archie strode past German Village while at the same time scrutinizing the entrances and exits to Turkish Village across the way. He continued on toward the Japanese and Irish exhibits. At the Hagenbeck Animal Show, he remembered Henry's glee at the sight. At the Libby Glass Company display he wished he could take Charlotte inside and buy her whatever she considered most beautiful. He paced the entire length of the Midway until finally he was at the entrance to the grand Court of Honor and the fair itself—and there he halted. If he had not been able to find Charlotte in the one-mile stretch of
the Midway Plaisance, he had little hope of stumbling upon her somewhere in the six hundred acres of the exhibition. Intuitively he did not believe she had entered the fair. The Midway had been the focus of her anxiety when she confessed to him she had seen her husband.

Archie paused to pull out a watch and examine the time. This was Charlotte's day off, but it was not his. No one on Prairie Avenue would be looking for Charlotte for several more hours, but no doubt Mr. Penard was already pacing the kitchen, awaiting his coachman. By now Archie had missed the staff supper, and Mr. Penard would have discovered that Archie dispatched Karl to pick up Richard from school and Mr. Banning from his office rather than making the late afternoon rounds himself. With the slow progress of congested streetcars at this time of day, it seemed doubtful Archie would return to Prairie Avenue in time to help serve the family dinner.

He stood in the middle of the Midway and sighed. The Ferris wheel beckoned, as it always did, but from this distance, the passengers were specks.

Charlotte, where are you? I want to help you.

Archie resumed his slow round of the Midway exhibits, working his way back toward the wheel and the Cottage Grove Avenue entrance. He searched to the point of staring into the face of every young man on the Midway, lamenting that he did not have even a general description of the husband Charlotte might be searching for. He could be walking right past the man and never know it.

By now the electric lights illuminating the fair and the Midway had come on, casting a counterfeit gladness over the scene.

Archie had to admit he had failed in his quest.

Archie slipped into the kitchen, ready to endure Penard's verbal thrashing. Dinner was over, and Sarah was scrubbing pots. The door from the kitchen to the butler's pantry was propped open, and Mr. Penard was carefully washing china and replacing the pieces in the cabinets.

Mr. Penard looked up when he saw Archie and immediately withdrew his hands from the soapy water and dried them. Archie planted himself in the middle of the kitchen and awaited the inevitable barrage.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Archie,” Penard said.

“He went chasing after Charlotte,” Sarah said from the kitchen sink.

“This has nothing to do with you.” In Mr. Penard's chastisement of Sarah, Archie heard the prelude to the stiff scolding no doubt coming his way.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just trying to help.”

“Is what the girl says true?” Mr. Penard probed.

Archie could hardly tell him the whole story. He chose his words carefully. “I was concerned Charlotte might require assistance.”

“Charlotte has the day off. If she requires assistance, she has to find it on her own. Your responsibility was here.” Penard was unmoving.

“Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir.” Archie hoped that appearing contrite would diffuse the tension. He kept his eyes lowered. Penard would rail for a few minutes, then it would be over.

“You blatantly abandoned your post without permission and without justification,” Penard continued.

“Yes, sir.”

“Your recent absences have not gone unnoticed, Archie.
You have developed a pattern of being away from the house for lengths of time for which you cannot account, and this is the last straw.”

“Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir.”

“No, it won't, because you are no longer in the employ of the Bannings.”

Archie's eyes widened and he looked the butler full in the face. “Has Mr. Banning dismissed me?”

“
I
am dismissing you,” Penard bellowed. “Your anarchist associations are a threat to the order of the household.”

“I have no anarchist associations—”

Penard waved him off. “Do not try to justify your actions. I had hoped that promoting you to coachman would make you more serious about your service in this household, but it's clear I was mistaken. Instead you have chosen to associate yourself with the likes of men who threw a bomb into Haymarket Square.”

“I have done no such thing!” Archie protested. “Besides, nothing was ever proven. The governor himself pardoned those men.”

“The governor has anarchist leanings as well,” Penard countered. “I will not have anyone in my employ perpetuating these misconceptions and influencing the rest of the staff.”

“Mr. Penard, I assure you—”

“Pack your things and go, Archie. You will leave the Banning house tonight. Your final wages are on the table.”

Archie pulled the heavy coach house door closed behind him and put the latch down. Karl sprang from the stool where he sat polishing his boots, his eyebrows lifted in question.

“I'm out,” Archie said, “immediately.”

“What possessed you to—”

Archie lifted one hand, palm out. “Don't, Karl. I can't explain it to you, but I would do the same thing again.”

“Where will you go?” Karl asked.

Archie shrugged. “I don't know, but he's determined that I go tonight. I wouldn't put it past him to come out here and make sure I'm gone.” He shuffled toward the tightly spiraled iron stairs that rose to the loft where the coachmen slept. “I have to gather my things.”

He did not have much. Three years of service at the Banning residence had yielded a secure place to sleep, regular nourishment, uniforms he would have to leave behind, and little else. Archie owned one pair of thin-soled boots that were not part of a uniform, one set of clothes, and a jacket that might be passed off as a suit coat in poor light. He had a handful of books that bore witness to how he was inclined to spend what little extra cash he acquired. The coins that jingled in his pocket would not take him far.

From the loft, as he gathered his things into a gunnysack, Archie looked down at the gleaming carriages he had driven for the last three years. For part of that time, his duties as footman included general maintenance tasks inside the house, but for the last year, the coach house had been his domain. The Bannings had two enclosed four-wheel carriages, one larger than the other. Archie had spent countless hours shivering in an exposed driver's seat as the family sat under the warmth of rugs inside the carriages. Two open carriages were used only in the summer. The comings and goings of the family required careful coordination to ensure a carriage was available at every appointed hour. Archie and Karl spent evenings
polishing carriages and oiling reins so that equipment was ready at any moment of the day or night. Since he had become head coachman, Archie also inspected the stable of horses every night to be sure at least one pair was always ready for service, and scrutinized reins and harnesses to ensure safety at all times.

He would not miss this. He would get a real job, one that gave him something to show for himself.

But he would miss seeing Charlotte every day. And now he would not even have a chance to say good-bye. He hated to consider what she would think when she found him gone.

Sarah hovered at the female servants' entrance, knowing Archie would have to emerge from the coach house eventually. She almost did not recognize him out of uniform. Instead of the blue and yellow livery he wore for driving or the white formal wear he donned for dinner service, he moved in the shadows, wearing brown trousers, a shirt of indistinguishable color—perhaps once white—and a brown jacket. He carried a gunnysack over his shoulder, but the bulge was small.

She stepped into his path. He slowed his steps and looked at her but did not speak.

“Archie,” Sarah said. “I . . . well, I . . .”

“You what?” Archie said harshly. “I heard you tell Mr. Penard I went chasing after Charlotte. That was none of your business.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“You're always sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong without thought to the consequences.”

Sarah straightened her shoulders. “I was going to say I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate your tone.”