Read Online A Proper Pursuit by Lynn Austin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynn Austin
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sell your innocent granddaughter into servitude!”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Matt. You make it sound as if Agnes wants Violet to be an indentured servant instead of a wife.”
“There is very little difference,” Matt said with a sniff.
“Are we all out of silver polish?” Aunt Birdie asked from inside the pantry. “I can’t find it.”
“Look on the shelf behind the ammonia,” Grandmother called to her. She turned back to Aunt Matt. “Besides, it’s up to Violet and her father to decide whether or not she marries, not us.”
“Well! We shall see about that.” Aunt Matt dropped her parcels on the kitchen table and stomped off.
I worried that I had made her angry, and I couldn’t afford to do that. I needed Aunt Matt to talk Maude out of marrying my father. But at the same time, I wanted to go visiting with Aunt Agnes. How could I turn down the opportunity to hobnob with Chicago’s high society—not to mention, find a husband?
“I think I’d like to go calling with Aunt Agnes tomorrow,” I told my grandmother. “Would you mind?”
“That’s entirely up to you. Just watch out or she’ll quickly take over your life with her nonsense.”
“Here it is!” Aunt Birdie announced. She emerged from the pantry looking disheveled but triumphant, waving a very tarnished silver tray and the container of silver polish. “Now we’ll be prepared when callers arrive at our door!”
And if Aunt Agnes had her way, one of those callers just might be my future husband.
Chapter
6
Wednesday, June 7, 1893
I tried on three dresses before deciding which one I would wear to make social calls with Aunt Agnes. I finally chose one that accentuated my small waist, even though I couldn’t cinch myself very tightly without my friend Ruth’s help. She had been able to make me quite svelte—and quite breathless.
Ruth Schultz had been an expert on what a girl could do to improve her figure, and everyone at school had come to her for help. When it came to nipping, tucking, and reshaping, Ruth’s knowledge of corsets was second to none. She also recommended daily doses of an Egyptian elixir that promised to provide “a graceful plumpness” to poorly endowed girls if taken regularly. It tasted like bile. Fortunately, my endowments didn’t need plumping.
“Small-waisted girls who are too top-heavy always look as though they’re in danger of falling over,” Ruth had counseled me. “Especially if they have tiny feet.”
I took a long time pinning up my hair, unable to get it just right. I felt absurdly nervous, as if I were about to take an examination at school and all of the skills and lessons Madame B. had taught me would be put to a final test. What if I tripped over a rug and fell flat on my face in front of everyone? What if I dropped my teacup and it turned out to be a priceless heirloom that had been rescued from the Great Fire, the only surviving item of a precious family inheritance, absolutely irreplaceable and—
I stopped, took a deep breath, and told myself to think of all the good things that might happen today instead of the bad. What if I met a man who was everything I’ve ever dreamed of: handsome, charming, rich … but most of all, daring, adventuresome, imaginative? What if he fell in love with me at first sight, the way Aunt Birdie’s husband had fallen in love with her? My dream man would set out to win my heart, courting me in all of the most romantic ways, just like the heroes in Ruth’s True Romance Stories . Our story would be so touchingly beautiful that it would become a classic, read by millions of envious girls for decades to come. In fact, we would—
“Violet?” Aunt Birdie interrupted my flight of fancy, calling to me from the front foyer. “Agnes is here. Her carriage just arrived.”
“Coming.” I quickly pinned on my hat, gathered my gloves and calling cards, and hurried downstairs.
I couldn’t recall ever riding in a carriage as fine as my aunt’s, but a lesser
“Don’t be melodramatic, Matt. You make it sound as if Agnes wants Violet to be an indentured servant instead of a wife.”
“There is very little difference,” Matt said with a sniff.
“Are we all out of silver polish?” Aunt Birdie asked from inside the pantry. “I can’t find it.”
“Look on the shelf behind the ammonia,” Grandmother called to her. She turned back to Aunt Matt. “Besides, it’s up to Violet and her father to decide whether or not she marries, not us.”
“Well! We shall see about that.” Aunt Matt dropped her parcels on the kitchen table and stomped off.
I worried that I had made her angry, and I couldn’t afford to do that. I needed Aunt Matt to talk Maude out of marrying my father. But at the same time, I wanted to go visiting with Aunt Agnes. How could I turn down the opportunity to hobnob with Chicago’s high society—not to mention, find a husband?
“I think I’d like to go calling with Aunt Agnes tomorrow,” I told my grandmother. “Would you mind?”
“That’s entirely up to you. Just watch out or she’ll quickly take over your life with her nonsense.”
“Here it is!” Aunt Birdie announced. She emerged from the pantry looking disheveled but triumphant, waving a very tarnished silver tray and the container of silver polish. “Now we’ll be prepared when callers arrive at our door!”
And if Aunt Agnes had her way, one of those callers just might be my future husband.
Chapter
6
Wednesday, June 7, 1893
I tried on three dresses before deciding which one I would wear to make social calls with Aunt Agnes. I finally chose one that accentuated my small waist, even though I couldn’t cinch myself very tightly without my friend Ruth’s help. She had been able to make me quite svelte—and quite breathless.
Ruth Schultz had been an expert on what a girl could do to improve her figure, and everyone at school had come to her for help. When it came to nipping, tucking, and reshaping, Ruth’s knowledge of corsets was second to none. She also recommended daily doses of an Egyptian elixir that promised to provide “a graceful plumpness” to poorly endowed girls if taken regularly. It tasted like bile. Fortunately, my endowments didn’t need plumping.
“Small-waisted girls who are too top-heavy always look as though they’re in danger of falling over,” Ruth had counseled me. “Especially if they have tiny feet.”
I took a long time pinning up my hair, unable to get it just right. I felt absurdly nervous, as if I were about to take an examination at school and all of the skills and lessons Madame B. had taught me would be put to a final test. What if I tripped over a rug and fell flat on my face in front of everyone? What if I dropped my teacup and it turned out to be a priceless heirloom that had been rescued from the Great Fire, the only surviving item of a precious family inheritance, absolutely irreplaceable and—
I stopped, took a deep breath, and told myself to think of all the good things that might happen today instead of the bad. What if I met a man who was everything I’ve ever dreamed of: handsome, charming, rich … but most of all, daring, adventuresome, imaginative? What if he fell in love with me at first sight, the way Aunt Birdie’s husband had fallen in love with her? My dream man would set out to win my heart, courting me in all of the most romantic ways, just like the heroes in Ruth’s True Romance Stories . Our story would be so touchingly beautiful that it would become a classic, read by millions of envious girls for decades to come. In fact, we would—
“Violet?” Aunt Birdie interrupted my flight of fancy, calling to me from the front foyer. “Agnes is here. Her carriage just arrived.”
“Coming.” I quickly pinned on my hat, gathered my gloves and calling cards, and hurried downstairs.
I couldn’t recall ever riding in a carriage as fine as my aunt’s, but a lesser
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