A Promise Given Page 31

  And once Harrison had even hinted that perhaps they go see a burlesque show at the Gem, but when she blushed and exclaimed “Oh, no, Harrison!” he had been quick to say that he was merely kidding and didn’t she know a joke when she heard one?

  It was a pleasant sort of relief, then, when, one afternoon, he suggested that they go sailing for the day, though Elsie hesitated at first, not only because she couldn’t swim, but because it seemed too late in the year for such an adventure and, ultimately, because she questioned whether it was wise to spend the whole day alone on the lake with him without a chaperone. The fact that she would never have had pause for concern had Stanley proposed such a plan oddly did not occur to her at the time.

  Apprehensively she voiced her hesitations to Harrison, blushing slightly as she did so, worried that he might take it the wrong way— he was so temperamental at times! She was delighted, then, when he was not only not annoyed, but when he had hurriedly assured her that his uncle would be coming as well, that he must have forgotten to mention it—that is, if she didn’t mind. Relieved, Elsie replied that if this were the case, then, yes, she would be delighted to go. As it happened, she had enjoyed meeting the major at the engagement party and had appreciated his gallant attempts to dance with her at the wedding. Yes, she would look forward to the opportunity of getting to know him better. And surely with the major in attendance, even the austere Mrs. Hutchings would have had no cause for complaint, Elsie convinced herself, had that venerable woman still been in the Exley employ in the role of watching over her.

  It was regrettable, therefore, to find when they reached the Marina where Harrison was borrowing a fellow officer’s vessel, that the major had suddenly taken ill, Harrison explained, and would not be able to attend. The major had apparently just now sent a hurried message to the front desk of the adjoining yacht club with his deepest apologies, though Elsie did not get a chance to see the note or even a messenger departing.

  Harrison appeared utterly cast down by the news, sulking that his plan had been thwarted. It was a blasted shame, he said, having gone through the trouble of securing the boat and buying provisions and all, and now they would surely be wasted. Yes, he said in response to Elsie’s comment about his poor uncle, it was too bad for him as well, stuck in bed, but what a lovely day he had planned and wasn’t it too bad that they couldn’t perhaps go anyway?

  Elsie hated seeing him so distressed, but what was she to do? What would Henrietta do? she tried to think, and she decided that Henrietta would attempt to be brave. Yes, Elsie could envision Henrietta gaily sailing around the world with Clive. Elsie steeled her resolve, then, and suggested, with still more than a little trepidation in her voice, however, that it would probably be just fine for the two of them to go alone … unless, of course, Elsie added quickly, he thought he should go and spend the day with his uncle instead. Brightening considerably, Harrison hastily assured her that the best thing for his uncle would most definitely be undisturbed rest.

  The matter settled between them, Harrison lost no time in untying the boat and getting it ready to sail. Elsie, meanwhile, stepped gingerly down into it on her own, gripping the sides for support as she went and cautiously sitting on the weathered, slightly warped bench in the bow. After all, she asked herself as she watched the lieutenant scurry about, what could happen? Harrison was always the perfect gentleman, though she was in truth sometimes not at her perfect ease around him, as if she never quite knew what he was going to say or do next. He was at times sulky and quick to criticize her, but at other times he bestowed upon her such charming smiles and even occasionally a pinch on her cheek so that she easily forgot his temper and his slights. She thrilled for those times when he was benevolent—they more than made up for his periodic contrariness. He kept her guessing, and though it was at times unsettling, it filled her with a strange excitement such as she had never felt with anyone, even Stanley.

  As it turned out, she had nothing to be concerned about, and they had a lovely day out together, Harrison enjoying showing off his boating skills and telling her, as the boat gently rocked, about his sad childhood—losing his mother at a young age, his estranged father, and having to make his own way in the world. Elsie listened, her tender heart nearly breaking for him as he related all his sad troubles, how his lack of progression in any set profession wasn’t really his fault, that he had been handed a raw deal at every turn. Only his uncle, it seemed, had taken pity on him and had allowed him to live with him if he agreed to enlist in the army. So he had not had much of a choice, he said wistfully, as he looked out at the other boats in the distance. And even now, in the army, he was not progressing as fast as he thought he should. Everyone seemed always against him, he said, dipping his fingers in the water.

  Elsie earnestly asked what he might have liked to do, had he not been forced into the army, that is, and he answered, tentatively—after first extracting a promise from her not to laugh—that he might have quite liked to be a poet or maybe even a sculptor. Elsie’s heart quickened. A poet! Might he not share some of his work with her? she practically begged. She would dearly love to hear any that he might wish to share with her, she pressed, immediately mourning his talent, wasted now as a mere foot soldier.

  Harrison sighed and said that of course he would be more than happy to share some of his work with her—if she was serious, that is. Elsie assured him that she was indeed quite serious, that she was a great reader, actually. Upon hearing that, however, Harrison abruptly changed the subject. Noticing a decided shift in his tone, Elsie put it down to a poet’s natural sensitivity. No wonder he seemed over-wrought and moody at times. So much made sense now.

  By the time they eventually tied up back at the Marina, the day’s light was fading quickly. Having secured the boat tightly, Harrison helped Elsie out, who was grateful to be no worse for wear besides having procured a slightly wet and now torn hem on her dress. Once they were both on the dock, Harrison turned to her awkwardly, as if he were perhaps embarrassed that he had possibly shared too much about his past and his woes. Elsie could read his discomfort and longed to dispel it, to thank him for, well, talking so much with her, but she couldn’t think of any words. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Most probably he was worried about his uncle, she reasoned, which prompted her to suggest that she make her own way home so that he could get back to him faster. Harrison hurriedly exclaimed, then, that he was hoping—seeing as they lived so close to each other—that it would not be too much of an imposition for her to come back to his uncle’s with him—if only for a few minutes—to accompany him in his duties as “nurse” so that he might not be alone in them. And his uncle, he went on quickly, would dearly appreciate a look-in from Miss Von Harmon. Elsie was touched in a way she couldn’t explain and said that of course she would accompany him and sit with his uncle for a time.

  Thus they made their way to the elevated train, Harrison apologizing that he did not have the money for a taxi and Elsie not daring to offer the fare herself from her grandfather’s exorbitant allowance, a generous portion of which was tucked away even now in her handbag. Fortunately they did not have long to wait before a train screeched into position along the platform, where Elsie stood shivering. The warmth of the car as they stepped inside was a welcome relief after the day spent on the chilly lake and the ever-dropping temperature she had felt on the walk to the station. Seated now, Elsie felt an odd sort of contentment as they jostled along, Harrison sitting very close to her, his hand just grazing hers.

  She was a bit startled, then, when with a fast, swift movement, he moved his hand on top of hers and lightly squeezed it. She tried hard not to gasp.

  “Thank you for today, Elsie,” he said in a throaty voice.

  Her stomach clenched again at his words and the feel of his hand in hers, and she prayed that her own would not become clammy as a result. Where were her gloves? Shyly, she looked over at him, and he flashed her such a charming smile that she almost laughed out loud. He was so
… what was the word? … so debonair! What could he possibly see in a girl like her? she thought for the hundredth time. She was nothing special; she knew that. Besides, she was not free, she reminded herself, as she delicately pulled her hand away now and looked out the window, trying to call up images of Stanley, but, try as she might, they wouldn’t stay. It was true that she loved Stanley—in a certain way—but not, she had to admit, in the way Harrison made her feel. He made her feel extravagant and giddy, nervous and trembling. She knew that she was smiling too much in front of him and that her eyes were giving away her growing attraction (Henrietta was always warning her of this), but she couldn’t help it. She liked him. Very much.

  When they finally arrived at the major’s home, Harrison let himself in with a key, sheepishly admitting that they only hired servants when they entertained, except for a cleaning woman that came in in the mornings. It was an old brownstone, not quite on the Square as he had at other times led her to believe, but rather several streets over, which unfortunately cast a mild flavor of shabbiness on it. It was big and drafty and not at all a home, Elsie observed sadly. Oddly, as she looked around, nowhere could she see any evidence of the major’s hat or coat, or any of his belongings.

  “But what do you do for a cook?” Elsie asked, concerned, as he took her own hat and coat, his apparent, noble sort of poverty endearing him all the more to her.

  “Oh, we make do, Uncle and I,” Harrison said with a shrug. “I try my best,” he said with a smile.

  Elsie felt her heart go out to the two of them and couldn’t help but think of how dreadful it would be if her own brothers had no one to look after them. They would be just as lost, she knew.

  Harrison clapped his hands together now and pointed to the front room. “Why don’t I start a fire for us? It’s damned cold in the evenings these days,” he said, pushing past her. “Isn’t it?” There was a change in him now which Elsie couldn’t quite put words to. He seemed more relaxed in some way, more like a regular joe than the dashing, elegant lieutenant he normally presented, and Elsie, though she barely perceived the difference, wasn’t sure which persona she preferred.

  “That would be nice, thank you,” Elsie said, not knowing what else to say. “But don’t go through any trouble on my account. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Oh, you’re not intruding, not by any stretch,” Harrison said, smiling as he bent to light the kindling already laid. Elsie gingerly sat down on the long day bed that passed for a sofa as she watched him work, pleased to be able to observe him unawares. His dark hair was growing out and becoming almost unruly, more so than she would have thought the army would allow. Bent over the fireplace now, he seemed thinner and smaller than she had first envisioned him, though she knew him to be her own height or even a little taller. She thought him desperately handsome. Despite being in the army, he wasn’t a bit practical, as Stanley always was. Harrison, by contrast, had an almost boyish whimsy to him that she found irresistible. He had a way of talking her into doing things that she almost always felt guilty for later, like jumping onto the back of the trolley without paying and jumping off again before the conductor could stop them. She had never done something so daring, but she didn’t regret it in the slightest. It was just a way he had about him that kept her from saying no to him. And when she did try to stand up to him, he pouted and sulked until she gave in. It should have bothered her, she supposed, but instead it made her laugh, as though it were a little game they were playing— she the indulgent mother and he the naughty little boy.

  As the fire finally caught now, sputtering and crackling to life, he stood to the side and held out his hands to it, warming them.

  “Aren’t you going to check on your uncle?” Elsie finally asked.

  Harrison started. “My uncle? Oh, yes! Of course,” he said, rubbing his hands together again. “I’ll just pop up. Won’t take a minute.”

  “Oh, don’t rush! Sit with him. I’ll be fine down here. Unless you think I should go up as well?” she said, beginning to stand up. “You said he might enjoy my company.”

  “No!” Harrison said, rather forcefully. “No,” he said again, this time with a hasty smile. “He … he might be asleep. Let me just check. And, anyway, now that I think about it, he might not like you to see him when he’s not feeling so well.”

  “Oh, but … yes … of course,” she stammered, puzzled at how contradictory this was from what he had said at the Marina. “I … I was just … I just thought he might want to see me, you said … But that’s all right. You’ll … you’ll give him my regards, though, won’t you?” she faltered.

  Without answering, the lieutenant hurried from the room, then, and up the stairs.

  In his absence, Elsie sat back down again and took the opportunity to make a study of the room’s décor. In this room, anyway, she thought she could see the major’s influence. It was very different from anything she had seen before, and she thought how odd it was to be sitting in a man’s front parlor other than Stanley’s, though that was actually his mother’s, and which, in contrast, had always exuded an air of modest proportions and decoration. Only a few cherished possessions, some of them incidentally won at the St. Sylvester bingo over the years, were allowed to be displayed in the Dubowski home, as well as a few books—the Bible, of course, being one of them.

  Here, the atmosphere was very different, the major obviously having collected various exotic pieces from his many campaigns in foreign parts, and Elsie marveled at a particularly large display of what she assumed were some sort of African tribal masks. They filled her with a certain sense of fear or dread, and she crossed herself, hoping they weren’t evil. She tried to avert her eyes to other parts of the room, which was sparsely furnished and seemed overall a bit forlorn. In the corner of the day bed, she spied a ratty, greasy quilt, hastily tossed aside, and she resisted the urge to fold it. She was glad, then, when Harrison suddenly reappeared back in the room.

  “How is he?” Elsie said, twisting so that she could see him better.

  “Sleeping. He seems to be a bit better,” he said, not meeting her eye. “But I thought it best not to wake him.”

  Despite this favorable report, however, Harrison still seemed anxious, Elsie thought, observing him closely, as if he were disturbed about something. Perhaps she should go after all. She rose.

  “I should be going then, Harrison. I’m sure you’re very tired. You’ve been such a peach to put up with me when I’m sure you’ve been eaten up with worry. I’ll be going now.”

  “No, Elsie! Please,” he said, stepping forward a bit. “Don’t go just yet, will you? I … I have so few visitors. I … I’d be so glad of the company … of your company.” He smiled at her. “The truth is that my uncle is always dashing off somewhere, so I’m often here on my own, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m sometimes, well … lonely.”

  Elsie drew in a breath as she listened to his plea, able to relate so very much to his declaration of loneliness, having felt it herself nearly every day, cut off as she was now from almost anyone except the servants. And even the servants were not very obliging toward her attempts to socialize with them. She had tried on more than one occasion to befriend Odelia, but Odelia, in actuality, was painfully dull and did not seem to appreciate conversation of any sort, especially with those she considered her betters. Indeed, Odelia had almost seemed to resent her efforts, despite Elsie’s attempts to convince her that she was very much not her superior. Her timid suggestions had fallen on deaf ears, however. Mrs. Kuntz and Mrs. Schmidt were no better, even when she offered to help them with their tasks, which they did not seem to be grateful for, nor which they had ever taken her up on. She had lost Mr. Dubala and the stream of customers she had gotten to know over the years, not to mention, of course, Henrietta, Eugene (not that he had been a great companion), Ma, and now even Stanley. The truth was that she had begun a slow steady slide into despair herself, and it took her breath away that here was a person—an utterly handsome, charming person, no l
ess— before her who found himself, at his own admittance, in exactly the same position as she. It was almost too much to contemplate!

  “Of … of course I’ll stay.” Elsie’s voice was tight. “If you wish it,” she said with a shy smile.

  “Please, sit down … I’ll get us something to drink,” he said happily now, his face lit up, like a little boy that had gotten his way.

  A disturbing thought, however, regarding Harrison’s sad situation suddenly occurred to Elsie as she looked over at him. “But aren’t you usually at the barracks?” she asked, confused. “I would think you’re never lonely there.”

  “Oh … I … yes, well, I’m on leave just at the moment,” he said, not looking at her. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he dipped out of the room, leaving Elsie to ponder his answer.

  “Don’t go to any trouble … tea or coffee is fine.”

  He returned quickly with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Is whiskey all right?” he asked apprehensively. “I’m afraid we’re all out of coffee, and Uncle never drinks tea.”

  Elsie had never had whiskey, though Stanley was always trying to get her to taste it, but she didn’t want to disappoint Harrison or to appear too high and mighty.

  “Yes, I suppose that would be fine,” she said, taking the empty, proffered glass and smiling hesitantly.

  At her acceptance, Harrison quickly removed the bottle’s cap and poured a large portion for her, though she tried to indicate with her free hand to only give her a little. He poured himself an equally large portion and, putting the bottle down, then, looked at her expectantly.

  Elsie brought it to her nose to smell it, which didn’t help the prospect of drinking it, as it smelled strong and slightly medicinal. Tentatively, she took a sip and grimaced as it burned its way down.