Read Online A Proper Pursuit by Lynn Austin - Free Book Online

circles, peering beneath the hall table and into the coat closet while Aunt Agnes waited and Aunt Birdie stared dreamily into space.
    “Never mind,” Agnes finally decided. The card fluttered from her fingertips and landed on the hall table. “Come here and let me look at you, Violet.”
    She held me at arm’s length, studying me with a keen, critical eye. I feared she would find fault with my dark eyebrows and dusky complexion, but my great-aunt’s round, regal face broke into a genial smile.
    “Why, you’re quite lovely. You should do very well—very well indeed. I’ll introduce you straightaway.”
    “Oh, how nice,” Aunt Birdie said.
    “Introduce me to whom, Aunt Agnes?”
    “Why, to Chicago society, of course. You do have calling cards, don’t you? Properly engraved?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Madame B. had made certain of that.
    “And suitable apparel, I presume? A proper hat? Gloves? Well, I can remedy that easily enough, if you don’t. I hope you speak French. I understand that you attended that boarding school in Rockford? What was it called?”
    “Madame Beauchamps’ School for Young Ladies.”
    “That’s the one. You may not be aware, but I was the one who recommended it to your father. I assume they taught you French there?”
    “ Oui, Tante Agnes. Je parle treés bien francçais . Madame wouldn’t have allowed me to graduate unless I’d mastered French along with the rules of etiquette and other social necessities.”
    “Wonderful.”
    “Madame also insisted that we learn a smattering of Italian in case the need ever arose to converse with a Venetian count; that we played the piano and sang; that we knew how to find her French homeland and other important countries on a map; and that we had a passing knowledge of poetry and literature.”
    “ Très bon , Violet,” Aunt Agnes said. “You seem very well prepared. It’s about time that your father decided to do right by you and send you to Chicago to find a proper husband.”
    I stopped breathing.
    “A-a husband?”
    “Yes, certainly. Why do you think you were sent to Chicago? To see the fair?” She laughed at her own joke. “Mind you, I told your father it was almost too late, that you were almost too old. But I shall endeavor to make up for lost time.”
    Was this really the reason my father had agreed to let me come? I was so astounded by Aunt Agnes’ news that I had no idea what I was supposed to say. Fortunately, Madame Beauchamps had taught us that expressions of profuse gratitude were suitable for nearly every occasion.
    “Thank you, Aunt Agnes. Merci . I’m so very grateful.” But in truth, the idea of shopping for a husband made my heart pound— though whether from fear or excitement I couldn’t have said. Perhaps a bit of each.
    “I’ll call for you tomorrow at two o’clock,” Agnes said. “Make sure you tell your grandmother that I’m coming. Bertha won’t even remember that I’ve called, the poor dear. And wear a hat. And gloves.”
    She turned toward the door in a swirl of swishing taffeta, calling “ Au revoir , Bertha,” as if poor Aunt Birdie were deaf as well as simple. To me she said sotto voce , “Don’t forget your calling cards. Au revoir .”
    I must have looked like Aunt Birdie as I stood staring dumbly into space, completely flabbergasted by Aunt Agnes’ visit. The scent of her perfume lingered long after she left, along with her tantalizing words.
    A husband ! I could well imagine what Aunt Matt would have to say about that.
    I was still standing in the hallway in shock when I heard someone coming through the kitchen door. I quickly raced into the parlor and stuffed the drawer full of photos back into the desk. Now that I knew where Aunt Birdie kept them, I could browse through them on my own another day. I picked up the feather duster and pretended to dust—just as my grandmother walked in from the kitchen to hang her hat on the hall tree.
    “Did you mail my letter to Gilbert?” Aunt Birdie