Page 30 of The Midnight Carousel
Maisie turns on her heel and strides away from James.
It was bad enough having to endure him staring across the table at last night’s dinner, but he’s been following her around the park ever since he started working here this morning.
Mindful of Sir Malcom’s request for her to be pleasant to James, Maisie did try hard to ignore him, her patience snapping only when he started bragging about how lucky Chicago is to have him here.
She meets Laurent coming the other way.
‘I thought you might need assistance,’ he tells her.
They watch James heading towards a cluster of sour-cherry trees, a pair of shears in hand.
‘I think I’ve got through to him now,’ she replies, hoping she’s right. She notices Laurent’s briefcase. ‘Are you here to do some investigating?’
He looks self-conscious. ‘I was, but first I need more casual clothing in order to blend in. Since I packed in a rush, nothing I brought with me is suitable.’ He indicates the black suit, black tie and black fedora that he’s wearing. ‘Could you please tell me where I might purchase such items?’
Maisie has a better idea. At Silver Kingdom she can never escape from the reminders that those two small children could have met with a nasty end. Maisie hears the workforce share their opinions, is regularly asked for updates by the visitors– and she’s desperate to get away.
‘Why don’t I accompany you? The maid tells me there’s a wonderful department store in the city.’
He breaks into a smile, and Maisie is struck by how perfectly straight his teeth are.
*
With no friends to speak of, Maisie has only ever accompanied Sir Malcolm on visits to the city, and those occasions have been few and far between.
She also isn’t brave enough to venture there alone, nor does she need to when all their tradespeople, from Mrs Papadopoulos to the fish-seller to the coalman to the seamstress, come to the house.
She is, therefore, tingling with a mixture of nerves and excitement as Laurent holds open the door of the department store just a short while later.
Marshall Field’s is every bit as wonderful as Maisie has heard from Clara.
The great hall is a marvel of layered columns surrounding an atrium that rises to a domed ceiling, filled with exotic perfume as if a royal palace has been constructed in the centre of the city.
The glamorous Money Girls were sales assistants here before they were lured to Silver Kingdom, and Maisie can imagine them fitting right in.
Though she tries not to stare in wonder like a newcomer to Chicago, even someone who isn’t a detective would guess she is captivated.
‘It reminds me of the Galeries Lafayette in Paris,’ Laurent comments. ‘You have heard of it?’
Maisie laughs. ‘No! I’ve heard of nothing in Paris except the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps if I’d stayed in England, I might know more, since it’s so close to France. But I’ve been in America since I was a child.’
She stops for a second to examine a pair of brown leather gloves.
‘Was it not disconcerting to find yourself in a strange country? I am quite astonished by the differences between America and Europe.’
She considers the question. ‘Less disconcerting than what I left behind in Essex.’
‘Then I am glad you are here.’
He sounds like he means it, and it leaves Maisie with the impression that the detective is genuinely caring. As she is drawn to an assortment of colourful silk scarves next, he stands near the display without complaint.
‘It looks like you’re quite used to waiting around for a woman,’ she remarks. Deciding against buying anything for herself today, she moves on with Laurent by her side. He looks surprised by the comment, then his face falls serious.
‘My mother always insisted that it was rude to keep a lady waiting, and even ruder for a gentleman to chivvy her along.’
They have arrived at the sweeping staircase, and he ushers Maisie upstairs to the second floor.
There is an overwhelming choice of garments in the men’s department, more than Maisie could ever have imagined any gentleman would need– morning suits, evening suits, cravats, handkerchiefs, belts and suspenders, sweaters, bowler hats and bow ties, formal shoes, walking boots, blazers, flannel pants.
She runs her fingers over a cashmere cardigan, then a row of neatly folded shirts while Laurent follows, his hands behind his back as though he intends to defer to her opinion.
‘How about this?’
She pulls a button-down shirt in light yellow from the stack, and holds it up. The collar is floppy and round, not stiff and starchy and crisp white like Laurent’s. He looks so dubious that she can’t help laughing. ‘Or that’s even better…’
She points to a wax mannequin adorned in a soft-silhouetted, light grey lounge jacket and coordinating pants without a vest, complemented by a pale blue button-down shirt, and navy-and-red-striped tie. ‘That’s how you need to dress if you want to fit in with our other gentlemen visitors.’
‘It will do no harm to try it on, I suppose,’ he acquiesces.
Before he changes his mind, Maisie calls over the sales assistant and instructs him to find the entire ensemble in Laurent’s size.
When the detective emerges from the dressing room, he stands on the spot, fidgeting with the limp collar.
The grey jacket brings out the colour of his eyes, the cut of cloth accentuates his athletic torso.
‘It feels not quite right,’ he comments.
‘Well, it all looks perfect.’
His cheeks redden. ‘I know little of American fashion, so perhaps it would be as well to listen to you and buy the entire outfit.’
On the way to the cash register, she grabs a straw boater from a table display. ‘And a new hat to complete the look.’
As they breeze past the perfumes on their way out, Maisie catches the stares of every woman in the store directed at them. After getting to know him a little better last night, she feels a rush of pleasure at being seen with this attractive man.
Returning home in a taxi with him, Maisie glows. The unusual turn of events this afternoon has chased away the awful experience of the lock-up, her frightening ride on the strange horse, James’s unexpected arrival– and opened her eyes to a dazzling world of possibilities.