Still smiling at Arthur I lowered my own voice, hoping that it would carry to Camille and the others behind her, and said with perfectly unemotional coldness, “I’ve become a woman and not a silly girl. As you and your friends are still silly girls, I can understand that you could not possibly find my changes are for the better.”

“You have become a woman—one who doesn’t care who she has to use or what she has to do to get what she wants,” she’d whispered back. I heard murmurs of agreement from the other girls.

The coldness within me had expanded. What did this simpering child, or any of those other empty-headed, spoiled girls know of the changes I’d had to make to survive?

Without turning my smiling face from Arthur I said slowly, distinctly, and loudly enough for the entire spiteful group to hear me, “You are absolutely right, Camille. So it is best if you all stay out of my way. I would say that I would hate to see any of you hurt, but I would be lying, and I’d rather not do that.”

Then I’d hurried to meet Father, who had been so overtaken by the anticipated trill of the Ferris wheel that he’d agreed to us sitting in the same cart box as the Simptons. As we soared two hundred and seventy-five feet in the air Arthur’s mother held tightly to me with one hand, and her son with her other. She’d squeezed her eyes shut and trembled so violently her teeth had chattered.

I’d thought her a fool, though a kindhearted one. Her fear had made her miss the most spectacular view in the world. The blue waters of Lake Michigan stretched as far as one horizon, while before us was revealed an entire city that seemed to be built of white marble. As the sun sank behind the elegant structures, the powerful electric lights that surrounded the lagoon and the brilliant spotlight before the Electricity Building were turned on, making the Court of Honor and the sixty-five-foot-tall Statue of the Republic in the center of the lagoon blaze with magnificent white light that rivaled that of the fullest, brightest of moons. The light had been so bright, it had been quite uncomfortable for me to look at directly, though look I did.

Mrs. Simpton missed all of it, and her son missed quite a bit of the scenery, too, as he’d been so focused on soothing his mother’s fear.

I’d vowed to myself that I would never, ever allow fear to make me miss magnificence.

* * *

Father insisted Mr. and Mrs. Burnham share our carriage to the University Club, which gave me a much needed and unexpected reprieve. Mrs. Burnham had been so excited by the Ferris wheel and the triumph of the electrical lighting, which only served to showcase her husband’s talent, that I hadn’t needed to engage in conversation with her at all. I’d simply appeared to mimic her expression as she’d listened attentively to her husband and Father blathering on and on about every miniscule detail of the fair’s architecture.

Now that we weren’t walking about, and my nerves had settled, I was finding it easier to control the terrible cough that had come so suddenly upon me. I was reluctant to admit it, even to myself, but I was feeling dreadfully weak and lightheaded—and there was a heat within my body that was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I believed I may truly be ill, and had been considering whether it would be wise for me to ask if Arthur could escort me home early. I must wait until after he declared his honorable intentions to Father, and Father accepted, but by the time the carriage reached the University Club, I was having a difficult time keeping my vision from blurring. Even the flickering gaslights in the club caused a tremendous pain to spike through my temples.

As I write this, I do so wish that I had understood the warning signs I was being given—my cough, my fever, my lightheaded sickness … and most of all, my aversion to light.

But how could I have known? As the night began I had been such an innocent about so many things.

My innocence would soon be irrevocably shattered.

We’d exited the carriages, and I’d been pleased to note that none of the other unmarried girls had been allowed to accompany their parents to the dinner. Their envious, condemning looks were, at least, an annoyance I didn’t have to tolerate.

Our entire group arrived in a long line of carriages together and we had entered the ornate foyer of the University Club as one. I’d been relieved to notice that his father had joined Arthur and his mother. I’d only seen Arthur’s father just a couple of times, and that was easily six or seven months ago when the family had first moved into their mansion not far from Wheiler House, but I was shocked to see how bloated and pale the old man looked. He leaned heavily on a cane and walked with a noticeable limp. I saw when Arthur and his mother caught sight of Father and me, and they steered Mr. Simpton our way.

Bloated and ill though he may be, Arthur’s father had his same brilliant blue eyes as well as his charming smile. After he greeted Father and turned both on me, he said, “Miss Wheiler, it is a pleasure to see you again.” I’d felt a great warmth for the old man and realized that though Arthur, too, may run to fat and poor health as he grew old, there would always be a spark left of the young man I’d married.

I’d curtseyed and returned his smile. “Mr. Simpton, I’m so glad you’re feeling well enough to attend the dinner tonight.”

“Young lady, the Grim Reaper himself could not have made me miss this evening,” he’d said, eyes sparkling with our shared secret.

“Too bad you missed the Ferris wheel, Simpton. It was magnificent—simply magnificent!” Father had said.

“Magnificently terrifying!” Mrs. Simpton had exclaimed, fanning herself with her gloved hand.

I’d wanted to smile and perhaps say something clever to Mrs. Simpton about overcoming her fears, but a cough had caught me unaware, and I’d had to press the handkerchief against my lips and try to control my breathing. When the cough had finally spent itself and allowed me to breathe again, Father and the Simptons were all studying me with varying degrees of embarrassment and concern.

Thankfully, Mrs. Simpton’s concern had voiced itself before Father’s embarrassment. “Emily, perhaps you would accompany me to the ladies’ lounge. I must splash some water on my face and collect my nerves before dinner, and while I’m doing that you could rest yourself on one of the settees.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Simpton,” I’d said gratefully. “I think I overexerted myself at the fair today.”

“You must be careful of your health, Miss Wheiler,” Mr. Simpton said kindly.

“Yes, I know. Father has been telling me the same thing recently.”

“Indeed! Indeed! A woman’s constitution is a fragile thing,” Father added, nodding sagely.

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more with you, Mr. Wheiler. Be certain I will take care of Emily.” She’d turned to her husband then. “Franklin, do be a dear and be certain we are seated at the same table as Mr. Wheiler and Emily so that the two of us will have an easy time finding the both of you when we join you for dinner.”

“Of course, my dear,” Mr. Simpton had said.

Arthur hadn’t said one word, but his eyes had lingered on mine and he’d winked when Father hadn’t been looking.

“Father, I’ll be back soon,” I’d said, and Arthur’s mother and I had made a hasty escape.

Once in the lounge Mrs. Simpton drew me to a quiet corner. She pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. “I knew you would be warm! Your face is ever so flushed. How long have you had that cough?”

“Just since this morning,” I’d assured her.

“Perhaps you should take your carriage home and rest. Arthur can choose another evening to speak to your father.”

Panic had turned my stomach and I’d gripped her hands. “No, please no! It must be tonight. Father is getting worse and worse. Mrs. Simpton, look at me. Look at this gown.”

Her eyes had flicked downward and then back to mine. “Yes, dear. I noticed it when first I saw you.”

“Father forced the dressmaker to remake one of Mother’s favorite gowns into this. I tried to reason with him, and tell him the style, the cut, were wholly inappropriate, but he would not listen. Mrs. Simpton, I pity Father and I know he is grieving for Mother even more than I am, but his grief is changing him. He must control everything about me.”

“Yes, Arthur has told me he will not even allow you your volunteer work.”

“Mrs. Simpton, Father won’t allow me to leave the house at all unless he is with me. And his temper has become so frightening, so violent. I-I don’t know how much longer I can bear it!” My shoulders had heaved and my body trembled as another coughing spell engulfed me.

“There, there. I can see that this is all very hard on your health. You are right. Arthur’s intentions must be made public tonight, and soon tonight at that. Then I will escort you home myself so that you may rest and recover.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Simpton! You cannot know what this means to me,” I’d sobbed.

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