A Promise Given Read online

  The girl, Elsie, was a different conundrum, he had gone on. At seventeen she should be just coming out, after her sister’s wedding, of course. It was too late now for her education, Mr. Exley feared, and she was too old to have a governess. Better to employ a lady’s companion to subtly educate her on the finer points of being a lady of society, he had decided.

  Clive marveled at how much thought Exley had put into this plan without having even seen his daughter for over twenty years and how he casually assumed his dictations would be unquestioningly followed. As much as he was not overly fond of Mrs. Von Harmon at this point in his courtship with Henrietta, a glimmer of understanding occurred to Clive as to why the young Martha may have run away so many years ago. He quickly realized that there was not much he could do to alter the last twenty years of Exley family history, but, still, he felt he owed it to his future wife to at least try to suggest caution to Mr. Exley, knowing that Henrietta, not to mention Mrs. Von Harmon, would vehemently oppose this plan, at least in the beginning.

  “Do you think it wise, Mr. Exley?” Clive finally put in carefully. “With respect, sir, all of these changes might be too much just at the beginning.”

  “Do you think me a fool, Clive?” Mr. Exley snapped, as if talking to a schoolboy. “I’m well aware of the delicateness of the situation. The move to a decent dwelling must be done as soon as possible, of course, but the rest of the plan can evolve over time. I’m merely outlining the grand scheme so as you can be assured that every aspect of their livelihood will be provided for. I should have done this years ago. It is to my shame that I have so grossly neglected my duty,” he said bitterly. “But Martha was ever a stubborn one, as was Charity,” he said, referring obviously to his late wife, but with no apparent trace of emotion. “However, I will not be thwarted in it this time. I mean to atone for the past whichever way I can.” He paused to take a drink of the scotch Alcott had poured out for all of them when they had first sat down.

  Clive, for his part, however, remained unconvinced.

  “Damned generous, I’d say,” Alcott acknowledged from where he sat opposite Exley, seemingly disquieted by the odd silence that had now crept into the room along with a descending air of gloom. He held up his glass now to Exley. “Damned generous.”

  “Yes, Mr. Exley, it is exceedingly generous,” Clive added, “but, perhaps, as I am marrying into the Von Harmons, they should be my financial responsibility, at least in part, anyway.” He cast a glance at his father, but Mr. Howard kept his face expressionless as he sat carefully eyeing Mr. Exley.

  “Henrietta, yes, but the rest of them, no. Martha is my daughter, and the rest of them are my grandchildren. They are my responsibility from here on out.” He looked at Clive sideways, then. “Unless you’re suggesting you should be granted a dowry.”

  “Certainly not!” Clive exclaimed. “I am offended at the suggestion, sir,” Clive added tightly.

  “I sincerely beg your pardon,” Mr. Exley said with a faint smile. “However, I want all of the cards to be on the table, and I only wish to have this rather awkward conversation once.”

  “I accept your apology, sir … and your arrangements,” Clive said stiffly, “though I cannot speak for the Von Harmons. I would caution you, again, with all due respect, sir, to move slowly in these matters. Mrs. Von Harmon is very …” he paused, trying to think of the right word.

  “Difficult?” Mr. Exley supplied.

  Clive inclined his head in agreement.

  “Understood,” Mr. Exley said gruffly.

  “There is just one thing, however,” Clive added, “which I feel I must relate at this juncture.” He paused, looking at his father. “I’m not sure Philips is the place for Eugene.”

  “And why would that be?” Mr. Exley asked with narrowed eyes, as if already defensive of his new grandson.

  Clive then proceeded to explain Eugene’s mishaps, leaving out, of course, what Eugene had told him at the police station about Fr. Finnegan’s advances and his suspicion of Eugene’s homosexuality, focusing instead on his more overt misdemeanors.

  “I’m sorry, Howard,” Mr. Exley said gravely to Alcott when Clive was finished, looking at the ground briefly as he did so. “A bad egg, it would seem. Must take after the father. I thought there was something a bit shifty about him when I met him last week at the party. I’ll pay for any damages, of course.”

  “Not to worry, old boy,” Alcott said gingerly. “Schoolboy pranks, let’s put it down to, shall we? Anyway, Clive assures me he can recover the eggs. No harm done.”

  “But there was some harm done, Father,” Clive put in. “Or could have been, anyway. Something has to be done with this boy.”

  “Agreed, Clive,” put in Mr. Exley before Alcott could answer. “He’ll have to go to Fishburne or maybe Valley Forge. They’ll straighten him out or break him in the process.”

  “By Jove, that’s a bit drastic, wouldn’t you say?” Alcott sputtered. “What do you think, Clive?”

  Clive quickly ran the suggestion through his mind and actually thought it a good idea, all things considered. A military academy would go far in keeping him in line more than Philips. Maybe all Eugene needed was discipline; he had, after all, lost his father at a young age. Perhaps it would be the making of him. The army had certainly cleansed himself of any of the spoiled selfishness he had once had as the only son of Highbury. Perhaps it would be good for Eugene as well. Henrietta, he knew, would be upset by this course of action, not to mention Mrs. Von Harmon, but the alternative would be jail. Clive had seen this type before. He had given him a chance after the candlestick affair because he was Henrietta’s brother, but he did not appreciate being taken advantage of a second time and had quietly decided to turn him over to the authorities. Otherwise, there might never be an end to Eugene’s grasping attempts to get more, especially now that his sister was to soon marry into the Howard wealth. Mr. Exley’s proposal was not a bad one, and, frankly, Clive was relieved to be rid of this responsibility.

  “It’s not an unreasonable suggestion,” Clive countered, filling up his glass with more scotch, “given the circumstances.” He surreptitiously looked over at his father, who subtly responded with the quick rise of his right eyebrow.

  “What do you think of Mr. Exley’s plans as a whole, Father? Do you object to any of it?” Clive asked, looking directly at Alcott now for any hint of hesitation. He assumed there wouldn’t be, as Mr. Exley’s various arrangements relieved the Howards of not only the problem of Eugene, but also the looming financial burden of providing for the Von Harmons, which Clive and his father had not yet had a chance to discuss. As jarring as Mr. Exley’s designs might be to the Von Harmons, Clive was relatively certain that they would raise no objections from his father.

  “Yes, Howard, any objections?” Mr. Exley reiterated.

  “None at all, Exley, if you’re determined,” Alcott said agreeably.

  “Fine. I’ll have the papers drawn up,” Mr. Exley said, clearly gratified with the way things were proceeding.

  “When do you plan to tell them all?” Clive asked Mr. Exley, worriedly rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.

  “I shall write to Martha directly to request a meeting with her, long overdue, I might add, during which I will inform them of their future,” Mr. Exley said, standing up now with the aid of his cane, apparently seeing no reason to extend the visit now that he had gotten what he came for. “I shan’t take up any more of your time. Thank you for seeing me,” he said stiffly. “I’ll keep you abreast of any developments,” he muttered, as Alcott walked with him to the main hall, leaving Clive alone to muse over the proposal.

  —

  Clive knew that Mr. Exley assumed that he would keep silent regarding his designs for the Von Harmons. He also knew that Mr. Exley’s expectation was that if Clive did choose to confide in someone at some point, that someone would most certainly not be his betrothed. Men of that generation, Clive knew, frowned upon discussing business matters, even ones of
a personal nature—depending upon how compromising they were—with the opposite sex. Clive took seriously, however, his promise given to Henrietta, after the whole wretched Jack Fletcher affair, to be forthright in all things, and, therefore, not long after Mr. Exley’s visit, he accordingly sought her company on the terrace at Highbury. It had become something of a routine for them when Clive was at home at Highbury to retreat there in the evenings after Alcott and Antonia had gone to bed. The terrace was now an oasis of sorts in which they often caught a cool breeze coming in off the lake after the blistering heat of the day and during which they delighted in discovering each other more. For his part, Clive was beginning to enjoy having someone to talk intimately with at the end of a long day, something he had not done in many years. And there was something a bit thrilling to talk in the cover of darkness lit only by the dazzling array of summer stars overhead and the ancient lanterns attached to the back of the house, prompting confidences more than any of the beautifully ornate rooms inside the house itself ever could have done, and lending itself as well to lingering kisses and soft caresses.

  The night Clive chose to tell Henrietta about her grandfather’s scheme, it was a particularly fine evening, with an exceptionally cool breeze playing about them and gently lifting Henrietta’s skirt hem just a bit, as she leaned against the wrought iron running along the top of the stone wall and tried to make sense of what Clive was saying.

  “Oh, Clive!” she had said morosely. “Ma will never agree to any of this! I can’t imagine what she’s going to say,” she groaned. “How dare he think he has the right to dictate what will happen to all the kids and where Ma should live!” she said.

  “It’s not as if he’s sending them to the workhouse, darling,” Clive said, trying to play it lightly. “Don’t you think it’s a good thing for them to have a decent place to live? To not have to work so hard? It’s what I would have liked to have provided as well,” he said, caressing her cheek. “Out of love for you.”

  “But that’s not his motivation,” Henrietta said petulantly.

  “That we don’t know, but, you are right, I suspect it does have rather more to do with pride.”

  “And why send the kids away? It’s cruel. It will kill her, Clive!”

  Clive deliberated. “It does seem hard,” he said, slowly. “I’m grateful my parents did not see the benefit of boarding school. But Philips is probably the best school in the country—and the most expensive. Surely you can see the advantage for them.”

  Clive watched as Henrietta looked up at the massive house looming behind them, presumably pondering his words.

  “I’ve been giving this some careful thought, Henrietta,” Clive continued, “and I think that perhaps your mother is suffering from a bad case of nerves. Depression, if you will. Perhaps a respite from the children is just what she needs. From what you’ve told me, she hasn’t exactly been … well, engaged, shall we say … with them for quite some time. Since you’re father, really. It’s been on you and Elsie for far too long …”

  “But to send them away? It seems so harsh. Even if it would somehow benefit her, how are the children to feel? It’s not their fault, and yet they’re the ones who will pay the dearest price.”

  “You can’t be certain of that,” Clive said quietly. “It can’t be very nice for them as it is. You know that, don’t you?”

  A flicker of what might have been guilt crossed Henrietta’s face. “At least they have Elsie,” she countered.

  “But for how long?”

  Henrietta sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “But they’ve never even been away from home before,” she persisted. “Why can’t they go to a good school here?”

  Clive put his strong, warm arm around her and was surprised to find that she was shivering. “The Exleys are a very proud family, Henrietta. All Exley men go to Philips. I’m afraid it will be very difficult to sway your grandfather once his mind’s made up.”

  “Well, it’s difficult to sway Ma, too. And, anyway, they’re Von Harmons, not Exleys,” she said with what sounded like a hint of bitterness.

  “Listen, darling,” Clive said gently. “Perhaps it’s not so bleak. I advised Exley to proceed slowly with this. His plan is not to send them away until after Christmas so that they will begin with the spring term. Perhaps in that time we can persuade him otherwise.”

  “Oh, Clive! Do you promise?” she asked, looking up at him now, hopeful.

  “I promise to try,” he emphasized. “Except where Eugene is concerned, of course. That must be done immediately. Even if Father didn’t press charges, I would have advised him to. I want you to know that,” he said slowly, looking at her steadily so that she clearly understood. “I’m fairly certain Eugene would do it again somewhere else, and then he won’t get off so easily. He’s been lucky so far, but I see it ending rather badly for him if his current course is not drastically altered in some way. Military school may be the making of him. All may not yet be lost.”

  Henrietta sighed again, knowing there was no rebuttal for this; he was right. In truth, she had become a bit frightened of Eugene’s apparent amorality. If he dared to steal from the Howards, even after Clive had given them money and promised Eugene a job, what would he do next? His sense of entitlement was abhorrent to her, and his unpredictability unnerved her. She felt she was walking a tenuous line as it was in this new world, and she didn’t need Eugene acting as an unknown variable. She knew Ma would fume and fret something terrible—she winced now at the thought of what Ma would say when she found out—but Henrietta had to admit the wisdom of Clive’s words. She felt guilty that a part of her would be glad to have Eugene out of the way. It was a fair solution, she reasoned, all things taken into account, and she hoped, truly, that Eugene might still make something of himself. “I suppose you’re right,” she said reluctantly.

  “The first thing will be getting them moved. We’ll worry about the rest of it later.”

  “Ah, yes, the house.” Henrietta smiled at this part of Mr. Exley’s preposterous plan. “On Palmer Square? Really, Clive! That’s a bit excessive, don’t you agree?” Palmer Square proper was a long oval-shaped park that was surrounded by the summer mansions of Chicago’s wealthy. Potter Palmer himself as well as the Fields, the Schwinns, and the Adlers, among others, owned houses there. “Couldn’t you have done something? Explained?”

  “Oldrich Exley seems a man not to be trifled with, Henrietta. There are limits to what even I—or Father, for that matter—can do, you know. He seems as stubborn as her.” The exasperated look he gave her then somehow made her laugh despite the seriousness of the situation.

  Clive smiled, then, too. “I’m led to believe it’s very modest, actually—for Palmer Square,” he said, gesturing with his pipe.

  “Oh, Clive, I’m not sure,” Henrietta said, sobering suddenly.

  “Come on, let’s go in. It’s late,” Clive said tenderly, kissing the top of her head. “It will look brighter in the morning. It always does, somehow.”

  As disturbing as Clive’s revelation had been, Henrietta was grateful that he had shared it with her and had decided that the best course of action would be to not tell any of them at home about their proposed future until Mr. Exley himself appeared. She had briefly considered telling Elsie, but Elsie wore her heart on her sleeve, and Henrietta knew she would have a hard time hiding her feelings around Ma if she knew what was coming. Clive had generously offered to be in attendance when Mr. Exley descended upon them, and, as much as Henrietta would have welcomed his strong presence, she had declined, knowing it would make it worse with Ma.

  Henrietta had eventually got Ma to unlock the bedroom door that morning and had removed her Sunday dress, a plain black affair with a belted waist, out of the armoire for her. She had offered to do her hair, then, trying not to glance nervously at the clock, but Ma had only glared at her in response. Her face looked blotchy, as if she may have been crying.

  “Why have you done this, Henrietta?”

  �
�I haven’t done anything, Ma,” Henrietta said tiredly, as if they had had this argument too many times before.

  “Why couldn’t you have found someone from the neighborhood? Why’d you have to go sniffing for something better than you?” Ma said as she obediently put on the dress over her dingy slip. She turned then for Henrietta to fasten her buttons up the back, and it took all of Henrietta’s resolve not to retort, not blurt out that she was every bit as good as Clive, that they were indeed equals.

  “You could have had any man around here,” Ma said, turning back around slowly with a scowl that resembled one of Eugene’s best. She sat heavily on the bed now, the springs creaking, and reached underneath for her scuffed black oxfords while Henrietta wearily folded her arms in front of her and sighed. “Why couldn’t you have gone for Ludmilla’s son, Jacek?” Ma continued. “He was always keen enough. Or even that Tommy Coghlin? I’ve seen him hangin’ about in the street more than he had reason to. Then of course there was Stan, a perfectly decent boy, but oh, no! You won’t have him, will you? Luckily he’s latched on to Elsie now. He hasn’t completely gotten away! You’ll regret that one, girl,” she said scornfully, shaking her finger at her now.

  Henrietta resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As if Stan were a better catch than Clive! “I didn’t plan it this way, Ma. It just happened. Just like it did for you and Pa.”

  Ma’s eyes blazed at her at the mention of her father. “Don’t speak of him!” she hissed.

  “It’s not my fault that you haven’t spoken to your family in almost twenty years!” Henrietta said, unable to hold in her anger any longer. “That was all your own doing! If it wasn’t for your stupid pride, we wouldn’t have had to live like this all these years,” she said, gesturing widely.

  “How dare you!” Ma shouted, standing up now and slapping Henrietta briskly across the face.