The Gray Chamber

  PRAISE FOR GRACE HITCHCOCK

  “With beautiful description and shiver-worthy scenes, Grace Hitchcock has penned an incredible fiction story based on true history. The Gray Chamber is a fascinating and chilling read. Edyth’s story had me glued to the pages. But as I journeyed with the heiress and her eccentricities, the greed of her family which saw her locked up in an asylum against her will made me grateful for the freedoms I have today. And made me pray that my voice would never be silenced. The nightmare was brought to life so vividly that I found myself holding my breath and then cheering on Bane as he never gave up on Edyth. This is a story that will stick with me for a long time. Well done, Ms. Hitchcock. Well done.”

  –Kimberley Woodhouse, Carol-Award winning and bestselling author of more than twenty books, including MissTaken Identity, The Express Bride, The Golden Bride, The Patriot Bride, and The Mayflower Bride

  “In 1893 Chicago, the World’s Fair brings excitement to residents and visitors, and danger to a group of young ladies in this rousing solo debut novel […] Hitchcock keeps the pace quick and tension high as the characters face dangers both physical and emotional. Readers will enjoy the snappy dialogue, vivid depictions of the famous World’s Fair, and the surprising historical details.”

  –Publishers Weekly

  “A delightful debut! Bursting with intrigue, romance, and historical tidbits that bring Chicago during the Gilded Age to vivid life, The White City is a story that’s certainly destined for the keeper shelf.”

  –Jen Turano, USA Today bestselling author

  “From the first sentence until the last, Hitchcock has crafted a tale that weaves in and out and all around, keeping me guessing until the final page was turned. The White City is a story I won’t soon forget!”

  –Kathleen Y’Barbo, author of The Alamo Bride and The Pirate Bride

  ©2020 by Grace Hitchcock

  Print ISBN 978-1-64352-235-7

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-64352-237-1

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-64352-236-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Dedication

  To Daddy, my kindred story-weaver.

  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.

  PSALM 23:4

  Chapter One

  When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.

  ~ Leonardo da Vinci

  New York City, Fall 1887

  Edyth Foster’s limbs burned as she pedaled down Fifth Avenue, her white skirts whipping in the wind while she wove around pedestrians and carriages, ignoring their shouts of protest. Rounding the corner, she slowed her velocipede and overheard two women gasp and comment on her lack of chapeau and corset. Biting her lip, Edyth lifted her hand to her curls, realizing that she had once again forgotten her hat. Oh well. That is the least peculiar thing about me. She giggled at the thought and parked her bicycle at the side of the building before hurrying up the steps to the fencers’ club, her heart pounding with anticipation of seeing Raoul Banebridge.

  Pausing in the small women’s dressing chamber, a room which was seldom used by any other woman than herself, she fitted her padded buckskin plastron over her chest before donning a matching buckskin gauntlet to protect herself from the thrust of a blade. Adjusting the burgundy sash over her skirt, she grabbed her wire mask, exited the dressing chamber, and stepped into the fencing area, scanning the room for her handsome instructor. The familiar scent of leather and sweat greeted her, but the men continued their exercises, no longer turning in shock at her presence as they had a decade ago when her father first brought her as a girl of fourteen. She had been a rather plump child, but the years of fencing had turned her muscles lean and strong.

  Tucking an ebony wisp of hair behind her ear, she swung her arms across her body, stretching her muscles, and met the dark gaze of Bane. The clanging of steel against steel dulled as he strode across the room.

  “You’re late again, Edyth.” Bane tossed her a foil sword, which she caught with ease. “When are you going to surrender your velocipede and take your perfectly respectable carriage to class?”

  Whipping her blade into position, she grinned. “Never. Besides, cycling warms my muscles to save me from stretching forever. Now, if you will be so kind, en garde!”

  He shook his head and, with a laugh, assumed a defensive stance and gave her the signal that he was ready. “Pret.”

  “Let’s fence. Allez,” she responded, and lunged.

  Bane parried, his eyes twinkling. “Come now, Edyth, is that the best you’ve got? Were you up past the wee hours painting again? Perhaps you should heed your instructor and warm up before jumping into a bout with him.”

  Ignoring him, Edyth stepped forward on the narrow piste as Bane darted backward on the marked-off area, once again blocking her attack that was aimed between his shoulder and blade. He made his counterattack, which she parried, proud that she could hold her own against New York’s finest fencing master. But of course the moment she had such a thought, the tip of his blade met her waist as the timekeeper called the three-minute mark of their first round.

  Grabbing a towel, she dabbed at the light sheen on her forehead, the weight of her request pressing down on her. “So, what did you decide about coming to the dinner party tonight? Uncle Boris has informed me on multiple occasions how rude it is of you to keep us waiting so long for your answer to our invitation.”

  He groaned and raked a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair that boasted the most delightful curl at the ends. “You know how much I hate those social gatherings, Edyth. Mothers never fail to present their daughters as a marriageable option, and I’m too busy with the fencing club to be distracted with taking care of a female’s tender emotions.”

  “But you understand that I must attend, and as it is hosted by my uncle’s new wife in honor of her daughter’s return from living in Paris for the past four years, I won’t know any of Mrs. Foster’s society friends and it will be excruciatingly dull if you aren’t there,” she said all in one breath. “Please? If you do, I’ll have the cook bake that lemon poppy seed bread that you enjoy so much and send i
t home with you tonight.”

  His lips curled in a grimace. “Fine. But this is the last time, Edyth, and I want two loaves.”

  She dipped her torso down, flipping her arms behind her in an exaggerated bow. “Done. Thank you, kind sir, for your gracious acceptance of my invitation.”

  “What are friends for except for attending boring parties in exchange for food? Minute break is up.” He motioned her back onto the piste.

  Friends. She gritted her teeth. He had been a friend to her since she had started coming to this club when he, at eighteen, was a champion, a man poised to purchase the club, while she was still an awkward girl. Their families knew of one another from society’s intimate circle, and with Edyth’s lessons, dinner invitations soon became a common occurrence between the two families and the pair found they enjoyed one another’s company. And when her parents died the following year, he had become her closest friend, but Edyth couldn’t help but feel that he still saw her as that pudgy girl of fourteen, not a woman of nearly five and twenty. She shook her arms to free herself of her morose thoughts and loosen her muscles. She sent him what she hoped was a brilliant smile and bowed with her foil before stepping onto the piste once again to finish their bout. As usual, Bane won, but closing the gap between the scores always made Edyth feel like it was a success no matter how many points he bested her by.

  After an hour-long lesson, she slipped out of the fencing area and spied her wild hair in the looking glass of the women’s area. Edyth cringed and ran her hands over her braid that had tumbled from her coiffure before smoothing her white fencing gown, its loose structure feeling more natural to her than any day gown. Maybe that’s part of the problem of why we are only friends. But even if she did relinquish her comfortable gowns for the more stylish ones, Bane still might not see her as a woman. With a dismissive shrug, she decided not to change her clothes or adjust her hair, as she was certain cycling would undo whatever she managed to fix.

  Leaving her gear on her designated shelf, Edyth hopped onto her velocipede and pedaled home, reveling in the crisp air, her long braid whipping behind her back. When the snow fell, she would have no other choice but to take her carriage to and from the fencing club, but as soon as it melted, she would be back on her two wheels. She was used to the wide-eyed stares from women as she passed by, the shocked expressions of men, and the gleeful pointing of the children as she cycled around them. She didn’t necessarily care whether or not she fit into society’s idea of the perfect gentlewoman. She was one of the fortunate ones, one of the few women who had her future secured without needing to put on a facade to secure a husband’s pocketbook. And she was aware enough by now that any man who did attempt to woo her was, in fact, after the significant inheritance left to her by her parents.

  Not a day went by that she did not long to be in her father’s and mother’s embrace or think of that horrific accident. She was supposed to have gone ice skating with them that day. But she had caught a cold and stayed at home. Shaking her dark thoughts, she focused on the fiery foliage of the sugar maples and scarlet oaks and the purple and golds of the green ash trees, attempting to enjoy the fall months while she could, when something gray stirring in the bushes to her left caught her eye. Catching her foot on the sidewalk, Edyth slowed her velocipede and hopped off, wheeling her bike beside her.

  Passersby complained when she parked her bicycle against the tree and stooped down to the bush on her knees to find a bedraggled, mewing kitten. “Oh, you poor little dear.” She scooped the kitten into her arms and cuddled it to her neck, offering the little one warmth as its frantic mewing increased. She looked about for a mother or siblings, but seeing none, she held the kitten in one hand and wheeled her bicycle home with the other.

  Slipping through the side iron gate that was left open for the staff and deliveries, Edyth parked her velocipede and used the service entrance. Waving to the staff who, by now were quite used to her strange comings and goings, did not even blink at the sight of her below stairs.

  “Miss Foster, what is this? Another stray?” The butler’s graying wiry brows stooped along with his deep voice.

  “Harrison, how could I not take him in?” She lifted the kitten up to her cheek and nuzzled him, her nose crinkling at the putrid smell clinging to his fur.

  “Because you have already taken in two strays this year and one last. I do not know how these kittens keep finding you, but this has to stop at some point, miss. Four felines are simply too many for one household. Where are we going to keep them all? They will destroy the furnishings.”

  “Well, I suppose we can adjust one of the guest rooms to suit them, don’t you think? Perhaps we could pull some old items from the servants’ quarters to furnish it and replace the worn things with new ones that are more to the servants’ liking?”

  He sighed and rubbed his brows with his thumb and forefinger, causing the wild hairs to stick out every which way. “We wondered when you would get to the point of giving your cats a room, but we had hoped you would be fifty and have a few gray hairs before it happened.”

  She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Harrison’s withered cheek. “I am a spinster, so four cats in total really isn’t all that much, now is it?”

  “Will you ever reach a number that is too many?” He smirked, making him look far younger than his sixty years.

  “I think perhaps nine would be too many. Please see to it that Katie gives Michelangelo a bath.” She deposited the kitten into his hands. “Thank you, Harrison,” she called over her shoulder, and darted up the tight, winding staircase to her bedroom on the second floor, nodding and smiling to any maid in passing.

  Her leather fencing shoes padded on the lush carpet of the hall leading to her chambers, but before she reached her suite, a shrill voice came from the library that could only be her new aunt expressing herself as she was known to do on occasion. Was wedding a beautiful woman worth enduring such antics, Uncle?

  “What do you mean? You have put up with this nonsense for years and the answer was right here in front of you this whole time and you did not even see it?” Mrs. Foster’s high-pitched shriek pierced Edyth’s ears from behind the mahogany door.

  She sucked in her breath, tempted to continue on to her rooms when another stream began. But while she and Uncle Boris had never been as close as she would wish, Edyth didn’t feel right about leaving him to fend for himself if she could distract his new bride from unbridling her wrath. With a soft knock, she opened the door to her father’s dark study that she rarely used. Father had kept it well stocked with books from generations of collectors, but she couldn’t afford the fascination. Books were too quiet a pastime. She needed to be in motion or fiercely concentrating on something, else her thoughts would come knocking.

  “Uncle Boris? Is everything well?” The man who looked so much like her father rose from a leather wingback chair facing the crackling fireplace with a stack of official-looking documents gripped in his fist.

  “Everything is fine, Edyth.” His gaze traveled over her wild hair and fencing ensemble, his thin lips pressing into a firm line.

  Edyth shifted uncomfortably. He had never looked at her like this before he brought Mrs. Foster home last summer. And now for the protest in three, two, one—

  Mrs. Foster gestured to Edyth’s attire and heaved a sigh. “Really, Boris, is this not all the proof you need? Your niece is cycling about the city dressed in this outlandish gown for all the world to see when she could have the latest of fashions shipped in from Paris and be driven in one of her many carriages like a proper lady.”

  Uncle Boris lifted his finger to his lips and quirked a brow at his bride. “Too much, dear. All in good time.”

  Edyth surveyed the room to see if a half-empty crystal decanter was near at hand to make sense of why they were both behaving so oddly.

  “But your aunt is correct, Edyth. It is hardly appropriate for people to see you in such attire. Upon your velocipede, your ankles are certainly in danger of bei
ng exposed with every turn of the wheel.”

  Mrs. Foster pursed her lips. “It is bad enough you wear that ensemble at the fencing club, or that you are a member at a fencing club for that matter, but you flaunt your lack of regard of fashion and etiquette to the entire city.”

  Edyth swallowed back a reminder to her new aunt that she and Uncle Boris were only living on Fifth Avenue because they were residing in Edyth’s mansion, not her uncle’s. She had never begrudged her uncle a generous allowance from her trust, but his bride was making it rather a burden to house them. Four more months and I will have the right to my fortune and the ability to set Uncle up in his own apartment and be free from his so-called guardianship. She ran her fingertips over the calluses on her palm and drew a deep breath. Lord, give me strength to be kind. “I apologize if I have caused you embarrassment.”

  Her aunt gave a short laugh and was about to say something when Uncle Boris placed his hand on her shoulder, halting her onslaught. Mrs. Foster pinched the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about it being all Boris’s fault for not doing his due diligence. She lifted her palms up and twitched her lips into a sharp smile. “Well, I’m hoping Lavinia’s influence will smooth out your many rough edges, Edyth. Your cousin is to arrive within the hour, so I suggest you leave us to our own business and change into something appropriate. Your uncle and I have too much to discuss to stop and address your many faults.”

  Edyth clenched and unclenched her fists, swallowing her smoldering response. As Mother used to quote, a gentle answer turns away wrath. She dipped into the lowest curtsy she could manage and answered dutifully, “Your wish is my command, oh my queen.”

  Raoul Banebridge adjusted his worn inverness coat, his focus on the floor-length windows ablaze with candlelight, and braced himself against a gust that whipped his umbrella nearly inside out. If Edyth wasn’t such a good family friend … He cleared his throat and pushed aside the discomfiture of not knowing many in attendance for the chance of a fancy meal. Having spent all his hours and small inheritance on his fencing club, he had little time to spare for dinner parties. In the beginning days when he was building his number of students, Bane attended every party—those he was invited to and those he wasn’t. He had managed to procure invitations through Edyth until she had sworn off high society events and could not be persuaded to change her mind. But now that the fencing club had grown in popularity with the elite set, it required all his attention, and parties had become things of the past.