dinner afterward because several influential ladies have requested my presence. I know it is as you said before, that Father is mourning the loss of his wife, but his behavior has become so controlling that it is frightening! Oh, Arthur, tonight at dinner when I tried to insist that I continue Mother’s volunteerism with the GFWC I thought he was going to strike me!” I began to sob in earnest. Finally, Arthur pulled me into his arms.
“Emily, Emily, please don’t cry,” he’d said soothingly as he patted my back.
I’d pressed myself against him, crying softly on his shoulder, becoming increasingly aware that I had nothing on except my thin nightdress and my loosened dressing gown. I am not ashamed to admit that I thought of the beauty and fullness of my body as I clung to him.
His hand had stopped patting me, and had begun traveling up and down my back, warmly, intimately. When his breathing began to deepen and his touch had gone from consolation to caress, I’d realized his body had begun to react to the scant amount of cloth separating his hand and my naked flesh. I’d let instinct guide me. I’d held to him more tightly, shifting my breasts so that they were flattened against his chest, and then I pulled abruptly from his arms. With trembling hands I’d retied my dressing gown and turned away from him.
“What you must think of me! My behavior is so … so—” I’d stuttered, trying to find my mother’s words. “So forward!”
“No, Emily. You must not think that, for I do not think that. You are obviously distraught and not yourself.”
“But that is the trouble, Arthur. I
“But I am here! You are not alone. Emily, give me leave to speak to my mother and my father of your troubles. They are wise. They will know what to do.”
I’d quelled a fluttering of hope and shook my head miserably. “No, there is nothing to be done. Arthur, Father frightens me dreadfully. If your father said anything to him about his treatment of me, it would only make my situation worse.”
“Emily, I cannot promise that my father will not speak to yours. I had wanted more time to move ahead slowly and carefully, but with things as they are, it doesn’t seem we are destined to be afforded time.” He’d drawn a deep breath, and turned to face me on the bench. Gently, chastely, he’d taken my hands in his and continued. “Emily Wheiler, I would like to ask permission to formally court you, with the express purpose of making you my wife. Will you accept me?”
“Yes, Arthur! Oh, yes!” It hadn’t just been relief at the escape that had opened before me that had me laughing and crying and hugging him tightly. I cared for Arthur Simpton, truly.
I might even love him.
He’d hugged me in return and then, laughing with me, drawn back, saying, “I have not stopped thinking of you from the moment I first saw you all those many months ago when you and your friend joined the Hermes Club. I think I have always known you would be mine.”
I’d tilted my head back and looked up at him adoringly. “Arthur Simpton, you have made me the happiest girl in the world.”
Slowly he’d bent and pressed his lips to mine. That first kiss had been an electrical shock to my body. I’d felt myself molding to his body and parted my lips invitingly. Arthur had deepened the kiss, tasting me hesitantly with his tongue. There had been no hesitation in my response. I’d opened to him, and even as I write this my body easily recalls the rush of warmth and wetness that his mouth had caused me to feel. Breathing deeply, he’d broken the kiss. His laugh had been tremulous.
“I-I must speak to your father soon. Tomorrow! I will call on him tomorrow.”
My good sense had returned to me abruptly. “No, Arthur! You mustn’t.”
“But I don’t understand. You are frightened, and time is of the essence.”
I took his hand, pressed it to my breast, over my heart, and dared to say, “Do you trust me, my darling?”
His startled expression had softened instantly. “Of course I do!”
“Then please do as I say and all will be well. You must not speak to Father alone. He is not himself. He will not be reasonable. Arthur, he may even forbid you to see me, and then beat me when I protest.”
“No, Emily! I will not allow that!
I’d breathed a sigh of relief. “I know how you can secure his blessing, my safety, and our happiness, but you must do as I tell you. I know Father far better than you do.”
“Tell me what I must do to keep you safe.”
“Be sure you and your parents attend the dinner at the University Club Monday next after the opening ceremonies on the Midway. At the dinner, in front of his peers and the great ladies of Chicago who have expressly requested that I accompany Father,
“When I pledge my intentions, and my family supports me in my troth, your father will have no rational reason to refuse me.”
I’d squeezed his hand more tightly. “That is true, but only if you do so in public.”
“You are right, sweet Emily. Your father will have to act like himself then.”
“Exactly! You are so wise, Arthur,” was what I’d said. My thoughts, of course, had been much different.
“But will you be safe for a week? And how can I see you without provoking your father?”
My mind had whirred. “Father himself has said I am unwell. I will be a dutiful daughter and insist he is right, that my health is fragile and that I must rest, so as to be invigorated for Monday.” And, I’d added silently,
Arthur had pulled his hand from me and gently tapped me on my nose. “And no more insisting that you volunteer at the GFWC. After we are married there will be years for you to follow your civic spirit, and volunteer as often and wherever you so desire.”
“After we are married!” I’d said the words happily, mentally tossing away the rest of his sentence. “That sounds so wonderful!”
“Mother will be pleased,” he’d said.
That had touched my heart and true tears had come to my eyes. “I’ll have a mother again.”
Arthur had embraced me, and this time I did not offer my lips to him. This time I’d only clung happily to him.
Too soon, he took his arms from around me. “Emily, I do not wish to leave you, but I am worried about the passing time. Father will not entertain long—his health will not allow it.”
I was already standing before he’d finished speaking. Taking his arm I’d guided him to the edge of the shielding darkness of my willow. “You are absolutely right. You must leave before Father returns.” And I had to rush to barricade myself within my bedchamber!
He’d turned to me. “Tell me how I can see you between now and next week. I must know that you are truly safe and well.”
“Here—you may come here, but only at night. If it is safe, and if I am able to escape to the gardens I will pick a lily and place it in the latch of the garden gate. When you see the lily, you will know I’m waiting for you, my love.”
He’d kissed me quickly and said, “Be safe, my dearest one.” And then he’d hurried away into the darkness.
I’d been giddy with happiness and breathless with worry as I ran as swiftly and silently as possible back through the house and up the long flights of stairs. It had only been minutes after I’d pushed the chest of drawers before my door that, watching from within the curtains of my third-floor balcony, I saw Father stumble drunkenly from our carriage.
If he lurked outside my bedchamber, that night I did not know it. That night I slept soundly, door barricaded, content that my escape had been secured and that my future would be safe and happy.
