the Caton familyâs country estate, a Queen Anneâstyle mansion that was unquestionably the focal point of the countryside. Its many chimneys could be seen from every direction.
âOr on second thought,â said Arthur, âmaybe Iâll go to the Chicago Club instead. Pick up a hand of cards and visit with the fellows down there.â
The Chicago Club was exclusive: men only, and only very wealthy men at that. Marshall belonged there, as did Potter, Cyrus McCormick, George Pullman and even her father. Delia didnât say a word, but she desperately wanted to point out that heâd been to the club nearly every day that week. Instead he could have gone through the household expenses and seen to it that the servants were paid on time that week rather than having them come to her with their hands out. Arthur could have met withAugustus, who had been asking for legal advice on a business matter. He could have been doing much more than spending his days drinking and playing cards at the Chicago Club.
Sometimes she wished heâd go back to work at the law firm, but she knew he never would. Between his windfall from Western Union coupled with his trust fund, Arthur Caton didnât have to work. He didnât want to work, either. And this bothered Delia. She was accustomed to men like her father who worked twelve-and fourteen-hour days and not just for the money. Hardly. Her father was wealthy enough to have retired when he was young. But he loved his work, and as far as she was concerned, hard work was what made a man a man. After all, Marshall Field didnât need to work, either.
Delia stopped herself. It wasnât fair to compare Arthur with men like her father and Marshall. Arthur had grown up in a family of privilege, whereas her father and Marshall had started with nothing. They had no choice but to work and work hard unless they wanted to starve in the streets. It was a way of life for them.
She remembered the stories her father told her about arriving in Chicago with just fifteen dollars in his pocket. And then there was Potter, who had opened his first Chicago business with a small loan heâd obtained from his father. Nannie had told Delia about Marshall growing up as a poor farm boy in Massachusetts and coming to town to make a name for himself. Delia found it all so inspiring. To think that these men had achieved so much, and out of nothing but their own determination to succeed. What she wouldnât give for the opportunities that men had, and yet her own husband wasnât even interested in trying to achieve something of his own. It bewildered her.
âWell,â she said, âI for one have a very busy day ahead of me. Iâm heading down to State Street for a bit of shopping and thenIâm meeting your mother here later to walk her through the house.â
âJust as well then that I disappear for the day, isnât it?â He chuckled.
Delia patted the cushion next to her on the davenport. âCome. Sit next to me.â
After he sat down she rested her head on his shoulder and said, âI think last night may have been the night.â
His eyes opened wide. âCan you tell so soon?â
âOh, I know Iâm being silly, but Iâm just so hopeful.â She looped her arm through his and repeated, âIâm just so very, very hopeful.â
CHAPTER TEN
L ater that afternoon, Arthur and his coachman drove Delia downtown in his four-horse tallyho, which drew attention from nearly everyone they passed. Arthur was known about town for his four black stallions and black carriage with gold trim. He loved to ride up on the box with his coachman just so he could see all the admirers.
After being let off at Washington and State, Delia had to wait several minutes for a break in the trail of omnibuses, wagons and hacks barreling past before she could cross the street. And even then, she had to rush before the next cavalcade raced through.
âOr on second thought,â said Arthur, âmaybe Iâll go to the Chicago Club instead. Pick up a hand of cards and visit with the fellows down there.â
The Chicago Club was exclusive: men only, and only very wealthy men at that. Marshall belonged there, as did Potter, Cyrus McCormick, George Pullman and even her father. Delia didnât say a word, but she desperately wanted to point out that heâd been to the club nearly every day that week. Instead he could have gone through the household expenses and seen to it that the servants were paid on time that week rather than having them come to her with their hands out. Arthur could have met withAugustus, who had been asking for legal advice on a business matter. He could have been doing much more than spending his days drinking and playing cards at the Chicago Club.
Sometimes she wished heâd go back to work at the law firm, but she knew he never would. Between his windfall from Western Union coupled with his trust fund, Arthur Caton didnât have to work. He didnât want to work, either. And this bothered Delia. She was accustomed to men like her father who worked twelve-and fourteen-hour days and not just for the money. Hardly. Her father was wealthy enough to have retired when he was young. But he loved his work, and as far as she was concerned, hard work was what made a man a man. After all, Marshall Field didnât need to work, either.
Delia stopped herself. It wasnât fair to compare Arthur with men like her father and Marshall. Arthur had grown up in a family of privilege, whereas her father and Marshall had started with nothing. They had no choice but to work and work hard unless they wanted to starve in the streets. It was a way of life for them.
She remembered the stories her father told her about arriving in Chicago with just fifteen dollars in his pocket. And then there was Potter, who had opened his first Chicago business with a small loan heâd obtained from his father. Nannie had told Delia about Marshall growing up as a poor farm boy in Massachusetts and coming to town to make a name for himself. Delia found it all so inspiring. To think that these men had achieved so much, and out of nothing but their own determination to succeed. What she wouldnât give for the opportunities that men had, and yet her own husband wasnât even interested in trying to achieve something of his own. It bewildered her.
âWell,â she said, âI for one have a very busy day ahead of me. Iâm heading down to State Street for a bit of shopping and thenIâm meeting your mother here later to walk her through the house.â
âJust as well then that I disappear for the day, isnât it?â He chuckled.
Delia patted the cushion next to her on the davenport. âCome. Sit next to me.â
After he sat down she rested her head on his shoulder and said, âI think last night may have been the night.â
His eyes opened wide. âCan you tell so soon?â
âOh, I know Iâm being silly, but Iâm just so hopeful.â She looped her arm through his and repeated, âIâm just so very, very hopeful.â
CHAPTER TEN
L ater that afternoon, Arthur and his coachman drove Delia downtown in his four-horse tallyho, which drew attention from nearly everyone they passed. Arthur was known about town for his four black stallions and black carriage with gold trim. He loved to ride up on the box with his coachman just so he could see all the admirers.
After being let off at Washington and State, Delia had to wait several minutes for a break in the trail of omnibuses, wagons and hacks barreling past before she could cross the street. And even then, she had to rush before the next cavalcade raced through.
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