Jesse’s stomach continued to churn from unease as they made their way through the crowd. And he prayed to God that Arthur knew what he was doing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Arthur
Standing in the print shop next to the Gordon Jobber, Arthur’s chest swelled with pride as he watched Jesse explain how it worked to Emma. First, Jesse explained the basic mechanics of it, and then he took the previously used forme out of its position so that he could show her how the letters were fixed together. When Jesse then let Emma hold it, she began to beam. Eyes filled with wonderment, she ran her fingertips over the letters. Subtly, Jesse flashed Arthur a small smile. Arthur smiled back. Jesse really was a magnificent teacher.
“Do you want to try to print something?” Jesse offered, taking the forme back from Emma.
“Could I really?” Emma asked, and Jesse nodded. “Well, if it’s nottoomuch trouble...” Emma walked over to the wall where she’d hung her silk reticule and began rummaging for something. After a moment, she pulled out a piece of paper, one that had been folded into a neat little square. “I brought the latest story for my newspaper. Will that work?”
Arthur couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes. While he supported Emma in theory, he still had trouble embracing her writing stories about the people in their social circle. He snatchedthe paper from her when she came close enough for him to reach it.
“Father!” Emma said in such a petulant tone that Arthur half expected her to stamp her foot like a small child.
“Before I let you print this in arealprint shop, I have to see what it is that you wrote about.”
Emma let out a huff as Arthur unfolded the paper. His eyes scanned the text.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s about the fair.”
“Of course it’s about the fair. Going to the fair was the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in months.”
“Hm...” He frowned when he reached the middle of the page. Emma had included a single sentence about the injuries that workers had sustained during the fair’s construction. Something she had learned from Giuseppe, most likely. “I’m not comfortable with you including the bit about people being hurt while working on the exhibits.”
“It’s only Lizzie who will read it,” Emma reasoned.
“Yes, well, even so,” Arthur said before returning his eyes to the page. Despite not liking the bit about the injuries, Emma had included an interesting observation after it. One that he couldn’t be certain he agreed with, though he found it impressively evocative nonetheless. “‘Fairgoers only see the beauty and richness of the World’s Columbian Exposition, not the miseries and flaws that lie beneath.’ Good Lord, Emma, that is...” He shook his head and looked up at her through his lashes. “Didyouwrite that?”
Emma slunk into herself, raising her shoulders and lowering her head.
“Am I to be punished?” she asked.
“Punished?! No!” Arthur exclaimed. “It’s a very astute observation, is all. Powerful as well. I’m impressed.”
Emma’s face brightened. “Impressed? Really?”
Arthur chuckled as he handed the paper back to her. “Yes.”
Emma rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and turned the paper in her hands.
“So, must I remove that part? I’d really like to keep it.”
“You want to keep it because you believe in it. You believe in its truth,” Arthur said, and Emma nodded.
Arthur pursed his lips, thinking it over. Emma’s statement wasn’t incorrect, neither had it been written in such a way as to shame people who were enjoying the fair and its offerings. In fact, the rest of what she’d written portrayed the Columbian Exposition very favorably. It only seemed reasonable to point out the event’s imperfections, not only its merits, especially since some peoplehadsuffered to create something so extravagant. And the fair certainly had its share of shortcomings otherwise, too. Perhaps the World’s Fair, though magical in some (or many) respects, was not as perfect as it was purported to be.
“Do I have to leave it out?” Emma asked again.
“No, no,” Arthur said through a sigh. “You may keep it.”
“Oh, thank you, Father!” Emma exclaimed with a small hop. She turned to Jesse and extended her hand with the paper. “Here’s what I’d like to print!”
Quirking a curious eyebrow, Jesse took it from her. He looked at Arthur skeptically, his expression silently requesting Arthur for further confirmation that Emma could keep her story as it currently was. Arthur replied with a nod.
Over the next half hour, Jesse and Emma created the forme together while Arthur stood back, watching with interest. Emma struggled a bit with the mirror lettering, the same as Arthur had, but once they worked through half of the page, she began to move faster. Arthur looked on, paternal pride swelling in his chest. Skimming those paragraphs that she’d written on the fair had been the exact thing he’d needed to not only respect Emma’s choice to pursue this sort of work, but to truly believe in her potential as a future journalist. It was clear to Arthur now that Emma’s interest in working for a newspaper wasn’t solely because she liked to write, neither was it because of boredom, but instead, based on those sentences she’d written revealing the fair’s imperfections and shortcomings, it seemed as though Emma had a thirst for truth and rightfulness. That wasn’t a trait that Arthur himself possessed. Arthur’s long-standing battle with his name (the wealth and status he had been born into as well as every expectation that came with being a Hughes) hadn’t stemmed from a selfless sense of compassion or a place of morality and righteousness, but merely a selfish wish to be his messy, overly excitable, often silly self. For Emma, however, her rebelliousness seemed to have other, more altruistic roots.
Watching Emma learn how to create a forme, seeing the mixture of concentration and excitement on her face, was as special a moment for Arthur as the one when he had witnessed his offspring take her first steps. Perhaps this, too, was a first step of sorts, toward a promising future.
