“Still,” Charlotte began, her eyes teary, “she shouldn’t be off on her own in the city. It isn’t right. She’s young, and she’s vulnerable. Goodness, Arthur, she’s only sixteen.” Her right hand found the pendant on her necklace, and she began fiddling with it. “Someone we know might see her. Oh, and then they’ll think you let her roam through Chicago by herself. Heaven only knows what they’ll think of her and of you and of our entire household. Everyone on our street remembers the way you were when you were a boy. Everyone knows that you and Ella...” She trailed off and shook her head, unable to even make herself say it aloud. “Everyone knows, too, that I went against my father’s wishes to become Emma’s tutor. Everyone knows my parents aren’t in my life anymore. In fact, I’m surprised that the two of us haven’t received more ire than we have for how unconventional—”
“Let people think what they want,” Arthur clipped.
There was no reason to panic, was there? After all, Emma was a smart girl. Arthur had kept close watch on her over the years. Well, Charlotte had. And Arthur was fairly certain that Emma hadn’t become entangled with one of the boys that they knew. Yes, Emma had stepped out on her own, but that was becoming more common for women of her stature nowadays, though perhaps not so much so amongst their peers on Prairie Avenue.
Frowning, Arthur began chewing on his fingernails.
All of a sudden, the sound of the back door opening brought Arthur out of his thoughts.
“It might be Emma!” Charlotte exclaimed, whirling toward the sound.
Arthur and Charlotte walked briskly toward the kitchen and found Emma brushing snow off of her coat. All of Arthur’s barely contained worries—the fears he had been trying his best to rationalize away—fell out of him with one long exhale.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, there you are,” he said.
“Where on earth have you been? It’s freezing outside!” Charlotte exclaimed, her face becoming red.
Arthur found himself a little taken aback by the sight of it. Charlotte was rarely, if ever,really, truly angry. She might have been stern sometimes, but overall, she was excellent at tempering her inner flame.
“I was only visiting a friend,” Emma said.
“Without me?” Charlotte said. “I would have taken you had you asked.”
Emma leveled a look, one whose meaning Arthur couldn’t quite place.
“You were busy,” Emma said, her words heavy and purposeful.
Charlotte’s eyes widened. Arthur wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her look so stunned. Emma’s statement hung between the two ladies until Charlotte finally cleared her throat.
“Yes, well, that’s no excuse for traipsing through the city on your own, especially with it being well below zero outside.”
“I wasn’ttraipsing.”
“Call it whatever you want, but it isn’t proper to be exploring the city by yourself.”
Emma scoffed. “Agnes only lives on 20thStreet. It was barely even a walk.”
Alright, that was enough. Arthur needed to end this.
“Emma,” he said, making his voice as harsh as he could manage while still maintaining composure. “I willnothave you behaving like this. I schedule plenty of opportunities for you to socialize. Every Sunday morning, we have church.Every—”
“NoteverySunday. Not today.”
Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. “No, not today. But everyotherSunday, save for afewhere and there, we have attended church. Every Wednesday, several other girls come over so that you can practice your sewing with them. Every Thursday, Lizzie comes by so that you two can converse about the books you’ve been reading.” Arthur’s heart quickened from a flash of irritation. “Goodness, Emma, I provideso manyopportunities for you! Educational opportunities! Social opportunities! Opportunities to try new things, meet new people!” Arthur let out a sigh. “But somehow, it isn’t enough for you. You justhadto sneak off so that you could see your friend, hm?”
“Why is it a problem for me to visit a friend for a few hours? Or—or what if Ihadwanted to explore the city? Why would that have been a problem? I can take care of myself.”
“It’s aproblembecause of what people might think.”
Doubly so because of Arthur’s own Goddamned past.
Defiant, Emma lifted her chin and met her father’s eyes. “You know,somegirls my age work.”
Arthur threw his head back and let out a very loud “Ha!” But then he immediately realized that his father had sometimes reacted the same way to somethinghehad said at fourteen or sixteen or even thirty, and he made an effort to rein it in.
“Yes,” he began in a much more measured tone, “but they work out of necessity, oftentimes in terrible conditions, like in the mills or the Union Stock Yard. It’s not something that I want for you,and it’s not something that you would want foryourselfif you fully understood what it entailed.”
Rather than reply, Emma stormed off, pushing past Charlotte and heading through the reception hall toward the stairs. Charlotte took a step to rush after her, but Arthur caught her wrist.
