Storing Up Trouble, стр. 25
“Why would you choose to lecture a young lady about meteorology at a formal dinner engagement?” Mary asked.
“Miss Elks is the one who broached the topic of how charming she thought the clouds had been in the sky that particular day.” Norman shrugged. “I thought she’d be keen to learn more about clouds in general.”
Mary blew out a breath. “I doubt Miss Elks will be willing to risk receiving another lecture from you, so that leaves Miss Dinneen and Miss Ashburn.”
“I’m perfectly capable of asking a lady of my choosing to attend the Palmer affair with me.”
“The last few times you’ve chosen a lady on your own, you’ve chosen Miss Theodosia Robinson.”
“I enjoy her company.”
“She’s not a suitable escort for you.”
Norman frowned. “What’s wrong with Theo?”
Mary returned the frown. “Well, for one, the fact that she seems perfectly content to allow everyone to address her as Theo. Second, she’s currently sporting the shortest hair I’ve ever seen on a woman. And third, she has no sense of fashion and attends society events wearing the drabbest of gowns.”
“Her hair is only short because one of our experiments caught fire, setting fire to her hair as well.”
Mary’s lips thinned. “She’s not an appropriate guest. You’ll need to ask Miss Dinneen or Miss Ashburn, unless you have some other lady in mind. Perhaps that mystery lady I know you were discussing with Constance?”
An image of Beatrix immediately flashed in front of his eyes, and, curiously enough, the thought of asking her to attend the ball with him was oddly appealing. That appeal, however, only lasted a few seconds after he realized his mother was watching him far too closely, which would then, as was her habit, lead to a barrage of questions he didn’t care to answer.
“I’m taking Theo and that’s the end of it,” he said.
Mary released a huff. “Fine, but you’ll need to visit your tailor and get some new formal attire before the Chicago Season begins. You’ll also need to order some everyday clothing as well because that jacket you wore home from New York was ill-fitting and missing most of its buttons.”
“I bought that jacket in a slightly seedy shop in New York after someone tripped into me on the street, depositing the jelly-filled pastry he’d been carrying all over my perfectly fitted jacket.”
Another huff was Mary’s response to that. “If you don’t care to visit your tailor, just say so and I’ll take your measurements and order your clothing for you.”
“I never said I didn’t care to visit my tailor. I was merely explaining why my jacket didn’t fit me well. But since you’ve now broached what you seem to believe is the sad state of my wardrobe, I’ll amend that situation straightaway.” He tilted his head. “Would Marshall Field & Company have everything I need to purchase?”
Mary’s gaze sharpened on him again. “You want to personally go to Marshall Field & Company and shop on your own? Have you ever even been there?”
“Can’t say that I have, but I’ve heard it’s a splendid store. It also has two working elevators I wouldn’t mind seeing, so perhaps I’ll rearrange my schedule and take the afternoon off to do some shopping.”
“Good heavens, there is something wrong with you,” Mary proclaimed, Constance nodding in agreement.
Not caring to be interrogated about what was really an unexpected decision on his part, as well as not caring to dwell on the true reason he’d decided to visit Marshall Field & Company, Norman forced a smile. “For the hundredth time, there’s nothing wrong with me. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s past time I introduced myself to that Pinkerton man. After he and I get a few matters cleared up between us, I’ll be off to Marshall Field & Company, and no, I don’t need either of you to accompany me there.”
Chapter 10
“These gloves are not the ivory I need. Show me another pair, and quickly, if you please. I’m meeting ladies for lunch and time is rapidly getting away from me.”
During the week Beatrix had been employed at Marshall Field & Company, she’d dealt with ladies like Mrs. Hermann Davis on an hourly basis—ladies confident of their superiority over a salesgirl they believed was far beneath them, a notion that left Beatrix holding her tongue time and time again.
Granted, she’d seen more than her fair share of ladies who were members of the New York Four Hundred treat members of the serving class rather deplorably. However, she’d never been reluctant to share her opinion regarding their unacceptable behavior with them, earning her a few disgruntled remarks from the ladies in question. But because she was one of the great American heiresses, what with her father being one of the wealthiest men in the country, those ladies always seemed to be on better behavior the next time she ran across them, which was why it was now so difficult to swallow the reprimands she longed to voice.
“This is no time for dawdling. Do you have other ivory gloves or not?”
Beatrix shook herself back to the situation at hand. “Of course I have more, Mrs. Davis,” she said, not bothering to add that she’d already shown her over twenty pairs of gloves, all of which the lady had found fault with for some reason or another.
In Beatrix’s humble opinion, having to fetch a single pair of gloves from the drawers that were built into a cabinet behind the glove counter was a waste of time. It would have been far more efficient if she could display numerous pairs at once for her customers to peruse. However, Marshall Field & Company had specific rules about such matters. And because she didn’t want to be dismissed from a position she found fascinating, even with all the aggravation she dealt with as a mere salesgirl, having not had the experience needed to be given the more coveted title of saleswoman, she returned the gloves the lady had dismissed with