Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow, The

  © 2013 by Olivia Newport

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-4061-3

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  “Newport’s latest novel, The Dilemma of Charlotte Farrow, provides an enthralling examination of the complex class and gender barriers in nineteenth-century Chicago. Second in the Avenue of Dreams series, this book will find swarms of devoted fans rooting for Charlotte Farrow, a mother forced to make excruciating choices in a world where women have limited options. The storyline is not only unique but also framed by a delicately designed backdrop of both luxury and longing. With timeless themes, Newport gives voice to women across the ages who have found themselves fighting for what matters most, and in the end, readers will join the battle cry.”

  —Julie Cantrell, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Into the Free

  “In the character of Charlotte Farrow, Olivia Newport gives voice to the countless thousands of women in domestic service who were seen but rarely heard. Set with exacting detail in Chicago during the World’s Columbian Exposition, Charlotte’s tale of courage and struggle will keep you on the edge of your seat from the first page to the last.”

  —William Tyre, executive director and curator, Glessner House Museum

  Praise for The Pursuit of Lucy Banning

  “Hats off to Olivia Newport and the debut novel The Pursuit of Lucy Banning. The characters are compelling, and Chicago’s history comes alive on each page. Readers will feel like they’ve been transported back to 1892.”

  —Andrea Boeshaar, author of Seasons of Redemption series

  “Lucy Banning is my kind of heroine, pushing against the strictures of her times of the 1890s. Her love and caring wraps around your heart as it does those who need her and even to those who wish her harm. A fine read from this first-time author.”

  —Lauraine Snelling, author of the Red River of the North series and the Wild West Wind series

  “With attention to historical detail and an artful sense of place, Olivia Newport gives readers a fascinating glimpse into the way the wealthy interpreted the 1893 World’s Fair—and the roles of women in the world. The Pursuit of Lucy Banning is a compassionate coming-of-age romance with a spunky, determined heroine and a Happily Ever After that’s satisfyingly sweet.”

  —USA Today, Happily Ever After blog

  “In a new historical series, Avenue of Dreams, readers head to the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893 where they will be treated to the grandeur and charm of the wealthy and the not-so-wealthy. In this story thick with secrets and lies, Newport’s characters are by turn charming, conniving, or trying to be true to themselves in spite of what society expects of them.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Remembering my dad,

  who loved me and wanted me

  to be happy.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Endorsements

  Dedication

  1 2 3 4 5

  6 7 8 9 10

  11 12 13 14 15

  16 17 18 19 20

  21 22 23 24 25

  26 27 28 29 30

  31 32 33 34 35

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Books by Olivia Newport

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  1

  K iss Henry for me.”

  Momentarily startled by hearing the words aloud, Charlotte Farrow glanced around, seeking assurance the moment was private.

  “Don’t worry.” Lucy’s green eyes glowed above her amber broadcloth traveling suit. “No one is listening to us.”

  At the back of the large carriage along the curb in front of the Banning mansion, the cab driver strapped the last trunk in place. Will Edwards slapped it in approval. In the other direction, Mr. Penard, the household butler, disappeared around the side of the house.

  Charlotte reached for the hand of Lucy Banning Edwards and gripped fingers of friendship. “I’m going to miss you so much. Two months married and already off on an adventure.”

  Lucy laughed. “I never wanted a big fussy wedding, but Will promised my parents a proper honeymoon if they would let us get married quickly in June. But I couldn’t very well leave the women’s exhibit at the world’s fair in the lurch, could I?”

  Charlotte nodded. “You promised your services through July.”

  “This was our first opportunity. Two whole months alone with Will—I can’t wait.”

  “It’s not the honeymoon that bothers me, Miss Lucy.” Shyness washed over the maid. “But then three months in New Jersey—that’s so far away!”

  “Will could hardly refuse the assignment. His firm was gracious to offer it and allow him to be near his mother through the holidays.”

  “Of course, it’s perfect for Will. Still, I can’t imagine being here without you.” With one hand Charlotte fiddled with a strand of hair the color of damp hay. It had worked its way loose from the knot at the back of her neck, as it did most days.

  “You’ll be fine,” Lucy assured her. “Be patient with Sarah. I’ve spoken to Penard and Mrs. Fletcher about her, but she’s sure to make them think I’ve gone round the bend. I know she lacks polish, but she just needs some time.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “We’ll be moving around France at impulse, but after I get back from Europe, it will be simple enough to exchange letters. I’ll let you know the address in New Jersey as soon as Will arranges accommodations.”

  “I’ve never had a proper letter.”

  Lucy leaned her head in close. “Charlotte, I know you have your reasons for keeping quiet about your life before you arrived on Prairie Avenue. I can only imagine what great sacrifices you’ve made for Henry. But this is your home now. I’ll be back, and I expect to find you right here.”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “On Thursday my family will return from the lake house,” Lucy continued, “and the routine will go back to normal. Leo will bring people home to dinner, and Richard will be back in school in a few weeks. I suspect Oliver and Pamela may make an announcement soon. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

  “I know I’ll be busy.”

  Lucy straightened her simple beige hat with one brown feather. “And when the family gets back, Archie Shepard will be back as well. If you ask me, he’ll be glad to see you.”

  Charlotte shook her head at the thought of the young coachman. “No, Miss Lucy, there’s nothing between us.”

  A carriage slowed at the corner of Eighteenth Street and Prairie Avenue in front of the Glessners’ Chicago home, three lots to the north and across the street from the Bannings. Bride and maid lifted their glances together at the visitors, craning their necks for a view down the block. The driver dropped out of his seat and opened the door to allow the tourists to roam for a few minutes.

  “More gawkers.” Lucy sighed. “They come from all over the country to see the world’s fair, a
nd then stop by Prairie Avenue to stare at us as if we’re a sideshow on the Midway.”

  Charlotte did not respond. While the gapers who paraded through the neighborhood on a daily basis made her smooth her apron and adjust her cap if she happened to be outside, she understood their fascination. Her reaction had not been so different when she first arrived nearly a year ago. Life on Prairie Avenue was like nothing she had ever imagined.

  “The Glessners must be getting tired of these cab drivers treating their address like a bus stop.” Lucy tugged at her white gloves. “I suppose I’ve seen my last gawker, though! The fair will be over weeks before I come home.”

  “Mrs. Edwards, I believe we have a train to catch.” Will Edwards grinned. “If we miss the boat out of New York to France, we may have to go to England instead.”

  “I’m coming.” Lucy squeezed Charlotte’s hand one last time.

  Charlotte waved as the carriage pulled away, then walked around the side of the Banning house to the female servants’ entrance. With the family finishing a month in Lake Forest, away from the blistering August temperatures in Chicago, she slipped into a serene house.

  Tall and clean-shaven, Mr. Penard looked up from the wide-planked table where he had spread his papers. “The family will be home the day after tomorrow,” he said, as if Charlotte were not well aware. “I have a number of items to go over with you tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. I thought we would have a cold supper, if that meets your approval. The day is so warm still.”

  “Yes, that will be fine. You’ll be back to helping Mrs. Fletcher with full meals soon enough.”

  Charlotte moved to the icebox for a liberal leftover portion of beef she had roasted the day before to serve to Will and Lucy Edwards. With bread, cheese, apples, and cucumber slices, the three servants sharing a meal tonight would be more than satisfied.

  “Where is Sarah?” Penard looked up and scanned the room.

  “The last I saw her, she was headed to the courtyard to bring the sheets in off the line.” Charlotte lifted the sharpest knife in the kitchen from a drawer and laid it beside the roast on the butcher block. “They weren’t dry before the laundress left. We’ll make the beds tomorrow.”

  “Satisfactory.” Penard laid his fountain pen down and laced his fingers together behind his head. “I must admit, Charlotte, that when you arrived here last October, I had my doubts about you. But you have learned well, and you’ve been quite trustworthy this summer to keep the house in order while the family is gone.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Penard.” Charlotte glanced at the butler, who had already turned his attention back to his lists. She had Lucy to thank for arranging to leave Charlotte in Chicago while the family went to the lake. No one else had any notion why it was imperative she remain in the city.

  “Along with the beds, the parlor must have a final dusting.” Penard pressed his lips together in thought. “And you can show Sarah how to polish the silver satisfactorily.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  “I do wish we had arranged for Sarah to join the staff a little sooner. I’m uncertain how quickly she is going to learn the way things must be done here. The assistant director at St. Andrew’s assures me she’s bright and capable.”

  Charlotte set three apples in a row on the counter. “Perhaps she needs time to adjust.”

  “Mrs. Edwards felt it would do her good to have some work experience, and I accepted the girl on her behalf.”

  “She has recommended other girls to families nearby, and I haven’t heard of any who didn’t work out.”

  Penard gave a half grunt. “If Sarah is grateful for her position, it is not evident. I wonder if Mrs. Edwards was fully aware of her temperament.”

  “It’s just different from the orphanage, sir.” Charlotte turned to take the cloth off a chunk of Wisconsin cheese on the counter. “She’s used to helping with chores. Miss Lucy . . . I mean, Mrs. Edwards says all the orphans at St. Andrew’s have their responsibilities, and Sarah’s been there six years.”

  “Yes, I understand they all must do for themselves in their setting, but does Sarah understand what it means to do for a family such as the Bannings? The work requires a distinctive demeanor.”

  “Mrs. Edwards says Sarah will sort herself out with a little patience.” Charlotte drew the knife through the meat, slicing the beef as thinly as she could manage. One of the first things she had learned in the Banning kitchen was that Mr. Penard was a stickler about the thickness of his meat cuts.

  Penard ordered his papers carefully. “I think I’ll take these upstairs to my rooms to review the household accounts. If you need me, you know where to find me. You may notify me when the meal is ready.” He tucked his chair under the table, then left the room, going up the stairs off the kitchen.

  It seemed to Charlotte that Sarah ought to be back with the sheets by now. The linens would have to be ironed tonight if the maids were going to prepare the bedrooms tomorrow. Putting the knife down, Charlotte crossed the kitchen to the servants’ hall that led to several interconnected workrooms as well as a door opening onto the courtyard. The Banning house jutted out at angles that surrounded three sides, and the row house next door closed in the fourth side except for a passage accommodating delivery carts. Clearly the brick used on this view of the house was less expensive than the stone walls facing Prairie Avenue, but Charlotte savored the enclosure. Something about it felt safe. The family spent little time outside. The winters were too cold, and in the summer they escaped to the lake house. Certain the Bannings would not step into the rear courtyard, Penard allowed the staff to set out pots of flowers and enjoy the lush patch of grass. Charlotte often lingered outside in the evening to inhale the night air before retiring to her stifling third-floor room.

  Charlotte exhaled. Despite her defense of Sarah’s abilities to Penard, she had her own doubts. In the day and a half since she had come from St. Andrew’s Orphanage to the Bannings’, sixteen-year-old Sarah Cummings had not completed a single task as requested. Charlotte already was aggravated at perpetually checking up on her and finding work half done. But she had promised Lucy to do her best with Sarah.

  Sheets flapped in the wind above an empty basket, and Sarah was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, Charlotte reached for the first clothespin and began to pull the sheets off the line.

  “Charlotte!”

  Charlotte stilled her hands. Had she actually heard the hoarse whisper? That voice should not be on Banning property. She spun around, a sheet draped over her shoulder. Out of the shadows against the courtyard wall stepped a middle-aged woman holding a baby.

  “Mrs. Given! What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been waiting for almost thirty minutes, hoping you would come out. He was sleeping, but now he’s awake and I don’t think I can keep him quiet. I was about to give up and knock at the back door.”

  Shock swelled through Charlotte as the little boy’s hands reached for her eagerly. Swiftly she wrestled out of the sheet across her shoulders, dumping it in the basket, and took the baby in her own arms. She cooed in a low voice to keep him quiet. Looking up again, she whispered, “Mrs. Given, what’s going on?”

  “I have to leave town.” The older woman stuffed the baby’s quilt and a small bundle in Charlotte’s arms. “I’m on my way to the train now.”

  “But what about Henry? I can’t keep him here. You know that.”

  Mrs. Given covered her eyes with one hand as her shoulders heaved once. “I have a family emergency. I truly have no choice. I can’t take him, and I have to go. You’ll have to work something out. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring more of his things, but it was too much to manage on the streetcar.”

  Charlotte held the child tightly, wrapping him in the quilt he loved—her grandmother’s quilt. He snuggled happily against her chest, tucking his head under her chin in his favorite way.

  “You know I can’t have him here!” Charlotte’s eyes moved from left to right, scanning the courtyard. “Mr. Penard will
dismiss me if he discovers I have a child.” Without Lucy, Charlotte had no advocate. “What about your neighbor? Doesn’t she sometimes help you watch him?”

  “For an hour or two,” Mrs. Given answered, “but I can’t ask her to take on the care of a child when I don’t know when I’ll be back—or even if I’ll be able to return.”

  “Please, Mrs. Given—”

  The woman was resolute. “I’ve had two telegrams saying that I must come now. My sister wired the fare this morning. I’m sure St. Andrew’s will take the boy, but I don’t have time to see to that for you.”

  “You know I don’t want him at St. Andrew’s. That’s why he’s with you.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to be on the next train to Omaha.” Brushing a strand of gray hair out of her face, Mary Given softened. “He’s a lovely child, Charlotte, and you’re a devoted mother. You’ll always do what’s best for him.”

  Within a few seconds, Charlotte was left standing in the courtyard with a laundry basket at her feet and an eleven-month-old boy squirming in her arms. Suddenly feeling weak, she set her son in the basket and watched absently as he pulled a corner of the sheet over his head and giggled. Her knees trembled. Uncertain they would support her slight weight, Charlotte crouched next to the basket and laid her hand on the child’s feathery brown hair.

  A shadow crossed her vision. Sarah.

  “Where did that baby come from?” the girl demanded to know.

  2

  C harlotte sprang to her feet, startling the baby, who wailed in reflex.

  “Charlotte, where did that baby come from?” Sarah paced swiftly around the yard in several directions, peering into every angle of the courtyard. “Did someone leave him in the laundry basket?”

  “I came out to see what was taking you so long with the sheets,” Charlotte mumbled.