A Promise Given Page 10

  “Smashing, I’d say,” he answered with a grin. “My uncle’s always going on about what a capital fellow Clive is. So much so that I found myself getting a bit envious, actually.”

  “Yes, he … we’re all quite fond of him.” She looked up at the lieutenant now and wondered how anyone’s eyes could be that mysterious. He reminded her of maybe an actor, like Douglas Fairbanks Jr., perhaps.

  “And how about you? Did you enjoy yourself that night? I must say, I can’t remember when I’ve danced so much … and with such a pretty partner.”

  “Oh, yes,” Elsie said again, flustered, and then realized that she seemed to be agreeing that she was indeed a pretty partner. She felt herself dangerously beginning to perspire. In her panic, she glanced over at his fellow bicyclists, who were still apparently waiting for him. “Are … are you in a bicycle club?” she finally succeeding in asking.

  He followed her gaze and laughed. “Yes,” he said ruefully, “as a matter of fact I am. But don’t mind them,” he said, giving his companions a dismissive wave and watched as they remounted their bicycles and rode off, most with amused faces.

  “Oh, don’t stop on account of me!” Elsie said, worried that she had inconvenienced him.

  “I’ll catch up,” he said easily. “Besides, I’d much rather talk with you.”

  At his words, Elsie felt a delight she knew she shouldn’t and looked away. What should she say in response to that? “I … I almost didn’t recognize you without your uniform,” she finally managed.

  He gave her a puzzled look and then laughed. “Oh, that!” he said, looking down at his argyle sweater vest and bicycle trousers, which, Elsie had noticed, fit him very trimly. “I’m stationed at Ft. Sheridan, but sometimes they give me leave on the weekends, so I come stay with my uncle.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  There was silence between them again, though he didn’t seem the slightest bit unnerved by it as he continued to look at her.

  “Is … is he … do you live nearby, then? I didn’t realize.”

  “Not too far,” he said noncommittally.

  “We just moved here. Not long ago, actually. That’s ours,” she said, pointing to a narrow brownstone across the park on Palmer.

  “The old Meyer place? Did you, now?” he asked thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes us practically neighbors. Perhaps I might call on you? Just to welcome you, that is,” he suggested casually.

  She didn’t know what to say in response to this. She couldn’t think!

  “I could bring my uncle along, if it would be more seemly,” he added in an amused tone.

  “No, I … I’m just not used to … yes, of course you can call,” she stumbled. “You don’t have to bring your uncle. I mean … of course you can if you like!” She was growing unbearably warm again. “We’d be happy to meet some new people,” she said, but then suddenly remembered Ma, and her heart sank. “Well, actually, my mother is … well, ill right now, so … perhaps some other time,” she said, looking up at him eagerly.

  “Of course,” he said, laughing again. “I didn’t mean this minute. But I’d very much like to in the future. I look forward to it immensely, Miss Von Harmon,” he said, flashing such a charming smile at her that Elsie felt her stomach clench up. He was so dreadfully handsome that her breath caught in her throat. “You’ve quite made my day,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

  Not knowing exactly what she should do, Elsie awkwardly gave him her hand to shake, but he surprised her by putting it to his lips and kissing it. She blushed uncontrollably and looked away, unable to repress her large smile.

  He released her hand, then, and remounted, riding back toward the path. “Goodbye, Miss Von Harmon!” he said, giving her a last glance before rounding the first corner. “It was an unexpected pleasure!” he called back and then disappeared altogether.

  Much to Elsie’s surprise, Henrietta had found the tale very amusing as she had related it to her over a late-night cup of cocoa when Henrietta had come in from her night out with her friends. Elsie had waited up for her as she had sometimes done back at the old apartment, usually whenever she had something on her mind. A cup of cocoa and a chat was a pleasure Elsie had not enjoyed in a very long time.

  With a smile, Henrietta had asked if the lieutenant had ever really turned up at some point in the ensuing months.

  “Well, no … not yet,” Elsie had admitted. “I assumed he hadn’t had any leave lately. Oh, Hen, do you think he was teasing?” she asked, the idea of it suddenly dawning on her. “I never thought of that! How silly of me. Of course he wouldn’t really want to call on me … us.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all, Els,” Henrietta said gingerly. “It’s just that, well, I’m not sure how trustworthy he really is. I was only teasing before when I said he was coming alone. I didn’t mean that you should …”

  “That I should what?” Elsie asked quickly, feeling an uncharacteristic irritation rising up within her.

  Henrietta exhaled. “Listen, Elsie, it’s just that Julia told me he’s a bit of a ‘ladies’ man’—you know, a flirt.”

  “Why should that matter to me?” Elsie exclaimed. “He only said he was going to call—with his uncle, I might add—to welcome us. Nothing more!” This conversation was definitely not going as planned. Of course she wasn’t really interested in Lieutenant Barnes-Smith!

  “Look, Els,” Henrietta said gently. “I’m sure you’re right. No doubt he has the best of intentions, but just be careful.”

  Elsie gave her a muddled look. “What do you mean by that?”

  Henrietta’s brow furrowed momentarily before she seemed to force a smile. “Just that you wouldn’t want Stan to get all upset, would you?” she said, giving her a little wink.

  “No, I suppose not,” Elsie said and could not help but let out a little laugh now as she imagined an annoyed Stanley. Thankfully, whatever small tension that had existed between the two sisters was broken then.

  Of course Elsie didn’t wish to intentionally make Stanley jealous, she had mused several times since that conversation with Henrietta, but, if she were honest, she could not help looking forward to seeing the lieutenant later today at the church in what she hoped would be his dress uniform, complete with charming smile. As she helped Ma on with her coat now, she remembered what a beautiful dancer the lieutenant had been at the party. Surely a dance or two today—if he even asked her, that is—wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  “Elsie, do you have my bag?” Henrietta called from the top of the stairs as she descended now, Mrs. Andrews following behind her, the small smile of pride on the older woman’s face unmistakable. She had completed Henrietta’s hair, sweeping it up elegantly and holding it in place with a net of tiny pearls in the back and three pins with large pearls at the ends toward the front. Mrs. Howard had hinted on more than one occasion over the summer that perhaps Henrietta should adopt a shorter style, as was all the rage right now, something perhaps like Loretta Young. But when Henrietta mentioned it to Clive, he had stopped short of forbidding her to cut her hair and had instead begged her to keep it long, and today, she had to admit, she was glad she had. Later, at the church, Mrs. Andrews would put her long lace veil in place for her. With Henrietta’s permission, she had also applied the faintest of makeup to her eyes and lips as she sat before the mirror in her room, dressed simply in her old blue paisley dress so that she could unbutton and slip out of it easily in the bride’s sanctuary at the church without disturbing her hair. She had gotten rid of all her old clothes except for this one dress, a reminder, she had told Elsie, of where she had come from, and she felt it particularly appropriate to wear today as she fully crossed from her old life to her new.

  “Oh, Hen!” Elsie nearly gasped as Henrietta came down the stairs now. “You look beautiful!” she whispered, even as little tears formed at the corner of her eyes.

  “Thanks, Elsie,” Henrietta said, beaming and radiant, obviously pleased with Mrs. Andrews’s work. “It’s all down
to Mrs. Andrews, of course,” she said, looking back at the woman behind her.

  “I’ll say thank you, Miss, but the truth is that it’s not hard to make you look beautiful,” Mrs. Andrews said with a smile. “It was a pleasure. I’ll just wait in the foyer,” she said, giving Henrietta a last look of approval before she made her way out.

  “She’s right, you know,” Elsie said. “And you don’t even have your dress on yet! I can’t wait to see you in it!”

  Henrietta smiled. “Well, you look lovely, too, Elsie—a perfect bridesmaid!” she said genuinely as she observed Elsie in her floor-length gown of blue organdy with a gauzy sash that draped around her waist and trailed to the floor.

  “Thanks, Henrietta,” Elsie said with a happy smile as she smoothed her skirt down and adjusted her gloves. “I do feel rather elegant today!”

  Henrietta finally dared to look over at Ma, who had remained curiously silent since Henrietta had come down. “You look nice, too, Ma,” she said. “Your hat suits you.”

  Ma did look better in her new clothes and with her hair styled. She was not yet fifty years old, and yet she was gray and wizened. She looked twenty years older than she really was, perhaps because of the twisted look her face always held, as if she was constantly in pain or as if she had forgotten how to smile. She was looking at Henrietta now in an almost haunted way.

  Henrietta was unsettled by the way Ma was staring at her as if she were a stranger. “Well, what do you think?” Henrietta finally asked awkwardly, gesturing at her hair and face. “It’s just a little makeup, Ma. Mrs. Andrews insisted.”

  Ma sighed. “You look nice, Henrietta. Of course you do. I don’t often say it, but you do.”

  “Thanks, Ma,” Henrietta said quietly and hoped she wouldn’t cry.

  “You don’t have to go through with this, though, you know,” Ma said abruptly, instantly breaking whatever beginnings of harmony that might have been forming between them. “There’s still time.”

  Henrietta felt an angry retort spring to mind, but she held it in, predicting she would need a lot of patience today, and she didn’t want to start off cross. How could Ma, even now, not realize that she loved Clive? “Yes, Ma, I know, but I really do want to marry Clive.”

  “Well, suit yourself. I knew you’d be stubborn.”

  “Ma, I know marrying Clive will be … difficult in some ways, but isn’t every marriage?” she said gingerly, not wanting an argument to erupt today of all days. She wanted the day to be perfect, and its perfection was already being challenged by, of course, Ma, the one person who should be her closest friend today, but who sadly was not.

  “Well, I’ve already said all I’m going to say,” Ma wheezed, hobbling over to the sofa and pretending to rummage through her handbag for some imaginary item.

  “Ma,” Elsie said, cautiously intervening, “surely today is not a day for Henrietta to have second thoughts. Today should be a happy day, shouldn’t it?”

  Ma looked like she was going to speak but stopped when Odelia suddenly burst into the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Madam!” Odelia said breathlessly, “but the cars are here, and ain’t they gorgeous!”

  There was a general scuffle, then, as they all made ready to leave. Herbie, Eddie, and Jimmy clamored down the stairs, dressed smartly in navy wool suits, it being Jimmy’s first time in long pants, and he was looking quite grown up. Doris and Donny had been put in matching navy blue velvet sailor outfits, Doris’s, of course, being a dress, while Donny’s consisted of short pants. It had been arranged that Henrietta, Ma, and Elsie would be driven by a chauffeur hired for the occasion in the Howards’ Rolls Royce and that Eddie, Herb, and Jimmy would go in the Exleys’ Packard with Karl at the helm. A third car had to be hired to carry Mrs. Andrews, Mrs. Kuntz, and Doris and Donnie, while Alcott and Antonia would be driven by Fritz in the Bentley. Finally, Clive and the major would arrive in Alcott’s prize possession, the Isotta Fraschini Tipo.

  Mr. Exley Sr. had tried again on several occasions to sway Henrietta in her decision to allow him to walk her down the aisle, but she had refused each time. She knew she was angering him, but it couldn’t be helped. Instead, it had been decided that he would escort Ma to her seat. He had resignedly accepted this role, of course, but he did not seem to relish the prospect of finally walking down the aisle with his daughter twenty years too late. He would much rather have been escorting his stunning granddaughter who had snagged a Howard. Ma had also resentfully agreed to this arrangement, though she insisted that she sit with the children in her own pew behind Henrietta, separate from the Exleys.

  Henrietta would have liked to instruct the chauffer to drive past their two old apartments, the company apartment they had lived in while her father had been an employee of Schwinn and the shabbier one on Armitage, but she was afraid there wasn’t time, and, besides, she did not wish to expose her sentimentality to Ma, who would surely have made several derogatory comments, no doubt most of them aimed at her father, whom Henrietta was trying hard not to think about today. Instead she spent the drive north attempting to instruct and remind Ma and Elsie what their special roles were for the day—where they were to sit, when they were supposed to dance, what the photographer would want of them, where to stand, what to do … Elsie concentrated hard on her many instructions, but Ma merely looked out the window, seemingly ignoring Henrietta, all the while fitfully clutching and unclutching her handkerchief.

  The drive to Winnetka seemed to go faster than it ever had before, and Henrietta soon found herself outside of Sacred Heart before she even had time to contemplate the momentous action she was about to take. The driver had delivered her to a back door, close to the rectory, so that she could slip out, being not yet fully arrayed in her gown, without being seen by any guests. The little assemblage had nothing to fret about, it turned out, however, as they were more than early enough to have arrived before anyone else.

  Henrietta began to feel nervous now as they made their way into the bride’s room. Edna was already there, having been entrusted with the dress as a result of being elevated to the position of personal lady’s maid now to Henrietta. When Mrs. Howard had originally suggested Edna’s advancement, Henrietta had intended to protest, saying that she did not want or need a personal maid, but had then realized it would be an easier life for Edna, not having to scrub floors and make beds anymore, so she had acquiesced. She still couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing, however, and intended to use Edna’s skills in a different way—make her her assistant, or secretary maybe—but that would have to wait.

  Everything seemed to happen at once now. A chair was found in the corner for Ma, which she heavily sank down into, while Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Kuntz took the children through to the church and helped them find their assigned pew. Meanwhile, Elsie, and then Julia, who had somehow appeared and been hastily and without incident introduced to Ma, helped Henrietta out of her old dress and carefully arrayed her in her wedding gown.

  It was positively beautiful, a work of art. It had been ordered from Paris and had arrived just a few weeks ago. Mrs. Howard had been beside herself with worry that it wouldn’t arrive on time and had actually purchased another dress from Flemings on Michigan Avenue as a backup. But the dress had arrived from Paris as scheduled, and besides needing a few alterations, which Mrs. Howard’s seamstress had quickly seen to, it fit her perfectly. Elsie had not yet seen it, however, and she stood in awe of Henrietta as Edna continued to fasten the last of the buttons and Julia attempted to straighten the long train. Mrs. Andrews had reappeared as well and had delicately pinned the veil in place, stepping back now to assess that all was perfect.

  “Oh, Hen!” Elsie said. “It’s beautiful!”

  It was a Chanel gown of long, close-fitting silk with an enormous train. It had been modeled, Antonia had told her during one of the fittings, on the dress Chanel had produced for Princess Dmitri of Russia, though this meant little to Henrietta. The dress had one hundred and twenty buttons runn
ing down the back and a rounded neck lined with a beaded roping that exposed just enough of Henrietta’s neck to display a gorgeous diamond-and-pearl necklace that Mr. and Mrs. Howard had given her as a wedding gift.

  “You do look beautiful,” Julia said proudly. “Are you nervous?” she asked of Henrietta’s reflection in the mirror as she stood beside her.

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” Henrietta said with a fleeting smile.

  “Well, if it helps at all, so is the groom,” Julia confided, turning to look at the real Henrietta, instead of her image in the mirror, and gave her hand a squeeze as she did so.

  “Is he here already?” Henrietta asked.

  “He is indeed, pacing at the front,” Julia said, smiling. “He resembles a large schoolboy. I’ll just pop out and check on him, shall I?” Not waiting for an answer, she disappeared.

  The thought of Clive being in any way anxious was new to Henrietta. He was normally so confident, so strong, so sure of his actions. Only once, on that night on the terrace just after the Jack incident, had he come close to breaking down in front of her, revealing a deeper, more tender side, and she had loved him all the more for it.

  Since she had returned to Palmer Square just this week, she had written to him daily, telling him of each day’s events and always of her love for him, but she had not received any communication back. She had hoped for a note or a letter of some sort in return, but she had been disappointed and put it down to Clive’s sometimes-aloof manner even still. She knew that a part of him, not just his shoulder, had been damaged in the war and that he could be quite old-fashioned at times, not liking to always show his emotions. He was indeed from a different generation, closer, actually, to her mother’s age than hers, but she did not like to think about it, and, anyway, she didn’t care. So he wasn’t the romantic type, she had told herself; what did it matter? She didn’t need romance necessarily. She only needed him, and today she would become his wife.

  Henrietta smiled at the image of Clive being nervous, however. It somehow made her feel better that she was not alone in feeling jittery. She turned now to see her profile in the mirror. The dress really was stunning, she observed, and she was feeling an unusual wave of gratitude toward Mrs. Howard when oddly there was a little knock at the bride’s door and none other than Mrs. Howard herself stepped through. Edna curtsied out of habit, though as a lady’s maid she was not required to do so, but the anxiety of the day, not to mention her recent quick shift in duties as of late, had her confused. She quickly exited now, along with Mrs. Andrews, to whom Mrs. Howard gave a grateful pat on the arm as she passed. Elsie seemed to recognize her cue as well and gave Henrietta a reluctant smile before she excused herself to see if the florist had arrived yet with the bouquets.