Page 24 of More Than This (The Davenports #2)

Chapter 24

Helen

Helen ran lightly between the other patrons on the promenade of Garfield Park. Situated five miles west of her sister’s popular haunts, it was over a hundred acres of beautifully manicured lawns and winding paths along a placid lagoon. She’d missed the twenty-minute carriage ride over with the others, but John’s willingness to drive her in his motorcar made up the lost time. Plus, it was far more fun!

Her nerves practically vibrated with adrenaline—and not just at her tardiness. The Davenport Carriage Company’s first automobile was complete. But not perfect . Still, not even John’s pointed questions about how close she and Mr.Swift had grown this past week could dampen her spirits. It was agonizing to leave the car behind for its final checks and touches.

But her nervous energy served her well now—she ran on tiptoes, glancing over her shoulder at the shrinking figure of her brother.

If Mrs.Milford could see me now—running in public? Helen wouldn’t be allowed outdoors until her party. With the race just over a week away and only days before her big debut, she’d had to be on her best behavior in front of her chaperone. Or at least seem that way. At the entrance of the Garfield Park Conservatory, Olivia stood in a cool blue dress with a matching hat and parasol. Helen hoped this wasn’t their destination. The greenhouse? The weather was marginally tolerable—she had no desire to enter a humid glass box to walk among the ferns.

Olivia pulled a face. “Where’s John?”

“Back at the automobile,” said Helen, her breathing labored.

“He was supposed to walk you here,” said Olivia. She gave Helen quick once-over and must have found her suitable. “You’re lucky Mama went ahead with Mrs.Johnson.” Olivia looked like the paper dolls cut from a magazine, all perfect and glossy. The most unladylike thing about her sister was the way she tapped her foot right now.

“Sorry I’m late! I don’t see the point in promenading . There are better ways to pass the time.” Helen was ready to burst from her excitement.

Olivia studied Helen suspiciously. “Socializing is the way ladies of our station build relationships with each other.”

“Parties to find husbands. Promenades to makes friends. All this performance.” Helen gestured at the park. “So much time and energy spent to get other people to accept or propose to you. How do you know if it’s genuine?” Helen thought about Bertha and Agatha, who had been out in society as long as Olivia, and about Odette who was new to town. It was so hard to make real connections.

“You’ll know it’s real when you let your true nature shine and it’s embraced,” Olivia said simply. “Or,” she added, looking at the tree-lined paths, “you can be friends from birth as Ruby and I have and know nothing else. Helen, any young man would be lucky to have you.” Olivia bumped her with her hip and smiled. “He may just need more patience than most.”

Because you are beautiful and wealthy, because you are a Davenport, Olivia did not have to add. Helen knew her sister was trying to reassure her, to encourage her. It all just seemed unfair—this social hierarchy, this scrabbling for happiness. “Do you think it’s this difficult for gentleman?”

“I suppose for some, yes.” Olivia looked at her closely. “It’s not as frivolous as you seem to think. It’s important to find good friends, good matches. And it can be fun.”

“Socializing can’t be the solution to every woman’s problem.”

“You’re right, but right now, it’s yours.” Olivia leaned in, sniffed. “At least you don’t smell like you were under an engine.”

“I wasn’t.” Helen huffed, putting her doubt aside in favor of her earlier excitement. “I watched them place the trim.” She shook her head. Isaac and Henry were putting on the final touches. They came over early this morning to see that the fuel and exhaust systems were installed and functioning, that the steering mechanisms were calibrated. They’d followed Helen’s instructions to the letter. John had said they needed to convince Daddy, and what better way than to use their father’s own design aesthetic to win him over?

Helen sank onto the first bench she saw, still mesmerized by the chrome and high gloss of the Davenport stock car. She was about to burst with glee.

Olivia noticed. “All right,” said her sister. “Go on, but keep your voice down if you want to keep it a secret.”

“Oh, Livy! You should see it! It’s absolutely gorgeous. The twins did a fantastic job. They painted the body last week and they brought the pieces to the factory. The ovens helped speed up the drying, though I would suggest not letting your skirts brush too close.” She paused for a breath. “It looks like a real automobile. It doesn’t have the Davenport emblem yet, but when it does…” Helen stomped her feet.

Her sister squeezed her hand. “I cannot wait to see it.” She paused. “But please sit up straight.”

“As you wish,” she sighed, resigned to the afternoon ahead.

“Better yet, stand up.”

“What?”

Olivia stood, grinning. “You have far too much energy.”

Her sister was right. Maybe a walk around the lagoon was just what Helen needed. Definitely not the greenhouse.

Their father hadn’t been to the factory yet, still holed up in Freeport’s library recovering from his journey and reviewing the ledgers. She wondered what plans he had—if any beyond pouring more money into the buggies—to address the declining revenue.

Olivia linked her arm through Helen’s. They walked the public gardens where the air was lighter than in the city and the sun warm on their skin. They nodded to passersby, mostly white, a few Black, as they traveled around the lagoon. The water lapping in the breeze was calming, cooling. Just what Helen needed.

“John is worried about you and the young Mr.Swift spending so much time together.”

Helen tried to pull away but Olivia held fast. “Livy,” she complained. It didn’t work. Her sister’s gaze bore into the side of her face.

“You rarely talk about what’s going on in your head. Only what takes place in that garage.”

“We’re building a car! Working together isn’t the same as ‘spending time’ together. There are always other people around, and it’s nearly as impossible to distract him from a motorcar as it is me.”

“Good,” said Olivia. “I told John as much, but I wanted to be sure. Besides, for all the rumors and adoring fans surrounding Mr.Swift, no one seems to know if he’s courting anyone. Who knows how he spends his time off the track.”

Helen frowned. Mr.Swift claimed his gambling and drinking days were behind him. “Well, however he spends his time is fine by me as long as the work gets done. I like him. He’s fun and playful. And very nice to look at,” she said, smiling. “Mr.Swift is a bit rough-and-tumble, sure. He’s not preoccupied with what other people think. We have much in common. There’s no harm in flirting, Olivia. I don’t need John, or you, spoiling my good time. In the garage, I know exactly what I’m doing—even when I don’t.” The expression on Olivia’s face urged her on. “I’m comfortable there, it’s predictable, and I work well with the other mechanics.”

“Who’s to say a relationship can’t be like that?”

“Certainly you seem to be! You’re caving to Mama and Daddy’s choice like your secret spring romance with the young activist never happened.”

Olivia winced, and Helen felt immediately chastened.

“I’m just trying to see you to a match with someone who appreciates your uniqueness,” Olivia said. “It’s entirely different.”

“How?” Helen asked more gently. She watched her sister, waiting for an answer. She knew she was being stubborn, but she couldn’t help it.

“Mr.Stone is their choice. And I’m giving him a chance.” She paused. “I’m also giving Mr.DeWight a chance.”

Helen was shocked. Then delighted. “Olivia Elise! I cannot believe you!”

“Hush now,” said Olivia. “It’s nothing so scandalous as that. I’m just…undecided.”

Helen smiled. Olivia, who was always so sure of her path, seemed to be struggling with what to do next. It made Helen feel a little less troubled by her doubt. As much as she enjoyed her time working on the motorcar, and the amusing tension between her and Mr.Swift, she couldn’t help the sharp tug she felt at any thought of Jacob Lawrence. The image of him in the Greenfields’ back garden rose to her mind often in the past week. Once, he had given her hope that she wouldn’t have to choose between love and involvement in her family’s business. Now—

She shook the thought away. “You and John don’t have to trouble yourselves with Mr.Swift. Once his career is back on track, and Daddy approves the transition in the company, I’m sure he’ll be on to the next big thing. Speaking of which, how was dinner with Mr.DeWight? I’d expected you to break things off officially. But now this .” Helen smiled delightedly.

They’d arrived back at the Fern House. The humid air inside was thick with the fragrances of soil and thousands of cycads, mosses, and ferns. Their fronds stretched toward the glass enclosure and gave one the feeling of walking through a prehistoric jungle.

“Dinner was lovely,” said Olivia. “I thought his interest waning. He’s made clear that isn’t the case.”

“But?” asked Helen, sensing there was something keeping her sister’s feelings in check.

“Mr.Stone.” Olivia looked at her. “I really like him, Helen.”

“Based on past experience, I’d say Mama and Daddy mean well, but their choices haven’t made you happy.”

“How right you are,” said Olivia, coming to a sudden halt.

Helen turned.

Jacob Lawrence stood on the path before them, Etta Lawrence to his left, a picnic basket dangling between them. He wore a beige suit and a straw hat with a feather at the brim. He stilled, as if shocked by the faulty light switch he once joked would electrocute him.

“Miss Davenport,” he said to Olivia. “Miss Davenport,” he said to Helen. His address of her sounded more like a question. “I’d like to introduce you both to Etta James Lawrence. My cousin.” He watched Helen, closely, his expression unreadable.

“Cousin?” Helen asked.

The woman beamed. “Lovely to meet the young women of whom Jacob speaks so highly. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would.” She threw him a glare not unlike the ones Helen sent John’s way. “My family’s just moved to America to expand our business. We ran into Jacob in New York City, ticket in hand for London. Can you believe the coincidence!”

“You didn’t get on the ship?” asked Olivia.

Helen’s ears rang with Miss Lawrence’s words. He’d been in New York this whole time?

“No, we talked him out of that,” said Miss Lawrence. “He stayed with us in Albany while my brother got settled. Roger, my brother, will be in charge of the operation out there. The rest of us left for Chicago. My parents are recovering from illness, otherwise they’d be here too. Lucky for us, Jacob already knows this city so well.”

Olivia beamed. “Lucky indeed. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lawrence, and we’ll be happy to make your acquaintance here in the city.” She pinched Helen’s arm beneath hers until she offered a greeting as well. Helen could hear her sister asking questions about their journey and suggesting attractions that the city had to offer. Miss Etta Lawrence appeared to relax as she and Olivia spoke. Her sister had a way of doing that, putting people at ease. All Helen wanted to do was sink into the ground, and reappear in the garage, where her life made sense. She thought about the unopened letters. The gentle nudge from Amy-Rose. And yet at the edge of her confusion and embarrassment, Helen felt a relief that left her unsteady.

Jacob Lawrence was not married.

Now, what to do with that information?

He looked at Helen. “I’m happy to be back and for the warm welcome I received”—he raised an eyebrow as he spoke these words—“though I learned recently that Etta has been mistaken for my wife.”

A nervous laugh escaped Helen. “Funny that,” she managed to say.

Amusement crept into Jacob’s features. “Could I have a word?” he said to her. Olivia paused only a moment before inviting Etta to follow along the walking path.

Helen nodded and attempted to keep her cool. A challenge, given the situation, and especially hard inside a greenhouse.

“Your cousin seems friendly,” she said, sounding stiff.

“She is,” he replied. “We’ve been close since we could crawl. Our relationship has been difficult with her father, my uncle, in control of what was once our family’s business. She and I are pushing for reconciliation. Her trip here is meant to help it along.”

“Right,” said Helen.

“I explained this all in my letters, which I realized, after the Greenfields’, must have gone unread based on your reaction.”

“That’s hardly fair considering what transpired between us.” But Helen knew that, in her pain and anger, she had missed a vital piece of information.

His expression turned serious. “I’ve wounded you, I know. I will forever regret that.” He smoothed his hand over his mustache and met her level stare.

Helen felt the lump in her throat swell.

He went on. “I would spend the rest of forever showing you that we—that I—deserve another chance. Can you not see how you injure us both now?” He stood there, waiting for her response.

What was she doing? Besides being every bit stubborn as her siblings accused her of being. “So she is your cousin? Not your…wife?”

Mr.Lawrence laughed. Her memories of his laugh paled in comparison to the real thing.

Helen looked to where Olivia and Etta had wandered. “I’d heard that she was your new bride.”

“Helen Davenport, am I to understand you have taken part in a rumor mill?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “I have adopted many ladylike pastimes. Gossip isn’t one of them.”

Jacob Lawrence smiled. It contained all the admiration he professed, and the strength of it made Helen feel light-headed. She wanted desperately to return to the bliss they’d shared before it all fell apart. But she was wiser now, having watched her sister and their friends navigate their own heartbreak. Olivia’s reputation was still susceptible to scandal too. As far as their set—and their father—knew, Olivia and Jacob Lawrence were once betrothed. The situation was delicate. But still, Helen could see herself with Jacob Lawrence.

“I’ll have an invitation to my party sent to the address you left with Edward. You may bring your cousin and see that she is introduced to all the young gentleman and ladies.” She looked to where Olivia and Etta waited for them. “Perhaps, Mr.Lawrence, I’ll save you a dance.”