Chapter Nine
Arthur
One and a half weeks later, Arthur was a wreck.
He hadn’t seen Jesse since that one blissful Saturday they’d spent together.
Between Arthur’s social obligations and Jesse’s work at the print shop, there hadn’t been time for Arthur to even try to see the man he adored.
Arthur supposed that he could have attempted to stop by Putnam Press the previous Saturday, as he had for the one prior, but Emma had requested that he take her to one of the hat shops downtown, and he hadn’t wanted to say no, especially since he’d been so busy over the last few months, thanks to his hobnobbing with the fair’s organizers every chance he’d been given.
Dammit, Arthur hadn’t realized before just how tricky it would be for him and Jesse to see each other on a whim.
And now that he had realized it, he was realizing something else, too: life without Jesse O’Connor was borderline intolerable.
Arthur needed to come up with a reason to visit Jesse at Putnam Press. He couldn’t wait for the weekend, either. He refused to. And Arthur not only wanted to visit Jesse but to spend some real time with him as well. Alone, preferably.
Standing by the front window, Arthur looked out at the street and watched a lone carriage pass by.
He hadn’t seen many carriages over the last few days.
It was so blustery and frigid outside that most people (the people in Arthur’s neighborhood, at least) weren’t venturing out or traveling to other parts of the city unless absolutely necessary.
If only it had been snowing outside rather than merely freezing cold.
At least then Arthur would have had an excuse to take Jesse to work.
Jesse could have told Arthur to be in Bridgeport at four in the morning, and Arthur would have happily braved the ice and snow in the cloak of night for the man.
Recalling how lovely it had been to travel with Jesse through Chicago’s streets in the sleigh, Arthur let out a sigh and leaned his weight against the window frame.
Charlotte came up beside him.
“Oh, Arthur, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Arthur shrugged as she placed a hand on his back.
“You were so happy last weekend. Happier than I’ve seen you in years, in fact,” she said. “But ever since then, your mood has slowly turned more . . . somber.”
Arthur frowned. “Yes, well, I miss Jesse.”
Charlotte smiled a pitying smile. “Ah. I see.”
“I hate that I’ve been too busy to see him,” Arthur explained.
“Go visit him at your shop, then,” Charlotte suggested. “Just be careful when you do.”
Arthur turned his face back toward the window and lifted his eyes to the white-gray sky. “But if I see him, I’ll want to kiss him,” he complained. “Even if we happen to be in the middle of the print shop.”
Charlotte chuckled.
“Jesse is a lucky man to have met someone as passionate as you,” she said sweetly, rubbing his back.
Soon, she stopped to touch a finger to her lips and hummed.
“It’s incredibly cold out there, isn’t it?
” she mused, tapping her lips. “I wonder . . . what if you packed the carriage with extra blankets? It might be a nice place for you two to spend some time together. I’m sure Jesse would be happy to talk with you for a while in there.
Maybe the two of you could even share a lunch as Patrick takes you through the city.
I mean, it’s practically vacant out there.
It’s not as though people from our neighborhood would see you, even if you take the carriage back up here to Prairie Avenue. And Jesse must eat lunch, right?”
Nodding thoughtfully, Arthur turned to her, a tentative, burgeoning hope fluttering in his chest. “That’s true.”
“Just tell Mr. Stevenson or whoever is in charge of the shop that you have some private business to discuss with Mr. O’Connor. Regarding the fair, perhaps.”
Arthur’s face broke into a grin, the hesitant rush of hope he’d been feeling transforming into a swell of excitement, one so intense he thought he might burst.
“Charlotte, you have the cleverest mind!” he exclaimed. “Aside from Jesse, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, her tone carrying a mixture of mockery and fondness.
Gleefully, Arthur rubbed his hands together.
“Alright, then, I shall talk to Gertrude and see what kinds of foods she can pack that I can then take over to Putnam. Will you—”
“I will talk with Patrick. I’ll make sure he knows this is for a very important business matter.”
Arthur kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he said sincerely before rushing off.
One and half hours later, shortly before noon, Arthur hopped out of his carriage, exuberance bubbling in his chest. He was feeling so very excited about finally seeing Jesse again that he was finding it difficult not to ruin his charade by letting out a euphoric shriek as he strode toward the building.
Arthur walked into the print shop with what he hoped was only a moderately large smile and slight pep in his step.
Jesse’s eyes found him immediately, and he slowed the Gordon Jobber to a stop.
“Mr. O’Connor!” Arthur called out, raising his hand. “Have you taken your break yet? Because I was hoping that the two of us could find some time to talk about the World’s Columbian Exposition.”
Jesse crooked an eyebrow, a tentative-looking smiling pulling at the corners of his lips. “Uhm . . . no, I haven’t.”
Mr. Stevenson rushed over, and Jesse’s forehead wrinkled with worry.
“Ah, Mr. Stevenson,” Arthur said, smiling harder. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hughes. I hadn’t expected you to come by today.”
“I hadn’t planned on it. But I received some .
. . news recently.” Arthur cleared his throat.
“About the fair. And I was hoping that Mr. O’Connor here could come with me to my other shop for a while.
I need to talk with him about the exhibits.
He may be helping me present on the, ehm, the presses we have here, as well as the ones I have over at Hughes.
Now, I know he must have plenty of work, but I promise not to keep him too long. ”
“I can stay late to finish up as well,” Jesse blurted out. “If I need to, that is.”
“Oh. Well, uhm, yes, then, that would be fine.” Mr. Stevenson checked the clock. “It’s nearly lunchtime anyway.”
Arthur clasped his hands together and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Stevenson.”
Had Arthur needed to remind the man who owned the press, he would have, but thankfully, it hadn’t come to that.
As Mr. Stevenson walked away, Jesse shot Arthur a puzzled look. Arthur merely grinned. With a shake of his head, Jesse headed over to the coat and hat racks to put on his winter wear. Once Jesse was ready, the two stepped outside into the frigid cold.
“Do you really have something to tell me about the fair?” Jesse asked through a shiver.
“No. But I needed to see you,” Arthur said. “I missed you, Jesse.”
Jesse’s face reddened as the wind whipped past, and Arthur wondered if it was mostly from the compliment or from the cold. Arthur pointed ahead to his waiting carriage.
“I brought us some lunch. I thought that we could eat together while Patrick takes us through the city, preferably through my neighborhood since it’s fairly empty right now.”
“It’s empty because it’s freezing out here,” Jesse said as his teeth began to chatter.
“I’ll warm you up. I promise. I packed an absurd number of blankets in the carriage.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.”
After a few more paces, they reached the carriage, and Patrick opened the door for them.
“Thank you, Patrick,” Arthur said kindly as he stepped inside.
“Anytime, Mr. Hughes,” Patrick replied with a smile, his cheeks and nose both rosy red.
As soon as Jesse climbed in, Patrick shut the door. Arthur began piling blankets on their laps and then threw the thickest one over Jesse’s shoulders.
“I won’t kiss you, but oh God, Jesse, I want to,” he said, tugging the edges of the blanket toward the center of Jesse’s chest so that he would hopefully be warm.
Jesse smiled a little—the tiniest, sweetest smile that made Arthur’s heart soar.
“I missed you so much,” Arthur said as he tucked his hands underneath his own blanket.
“I know I already told you that, but I needed to say it one more time. Or maybe ten more times. Because I really, truly missed you. Honestly, I think I still miss you. Even though you’re right here.
Even though our legs are touching. Because I can’t kiss you or hold you or—”
Jesse’s hand found Arthur’s beneath the blankets and he interlaced their fingers together.
“I missed you, too, Arthur,” he said softly as the carriage began to roll forward. Arthur’s eyes prickled with tears, and Jesse shook his head. “Silly man. Why’d you stay away for so long if you miss me so much?”
“I couldn’t figure out a way to see you without anyone around,” Arthur said, barely holding back tears.
“Sorry. I’m not sure why I’m becoming so emotional.
” He paused to blink a few times and then took a breath.
“Anyway, I’ve been busy in the evenings.
On Sundays, my parents come for dinner. On Mondays and Thursdays, I meet with a man named Mr. Bishop who helps me with some of my other investments and businesses.
On Tuesdays and Fridays, we host friends for a while.
Evenings, I try to be home for Emma. Last Saturday, I had to take Emma to shop for a new hat.
There are so many little obligations I have.
Events I’m expected to attend. Balls and parties and charity events.
And, of course, I knew you would be working every weekday so I thought it best not to bother you.
Except, well, I had to bother you this morning, obviously, but only because I couldn’t restrain myself anymore.
I began worrying that it could be weeks before we found another opportunity to see each other.
Actually, it was Charlotte—Emma’s tutor and my, ehm, my friend—who suggested that I come here now so that we could have lunch together.
I think she was tired of seeing me mope. ”
“We’ll figure out a way to see each other more often,” Jesse promised. “Can you come to my place some evenings? After you spend time with your family? Or on Saturday afternoons?”
“Saturday afternoons, yes. Thursday nights, too. I have prior engagements on a lot of the other nights or have otherwise promised Emma that I’d be around.”
Arthur shifted to face Jesse. He found Jesse’s other hand beneath the blanket and began to rub both of them with his own.
“Did you warm up a little?” he asked.
Jesse nodded.
“Good,” Arthur said through an exhale.
Arthur began to pull away so that he could unpack their lunch, but Jesse stopped him, reseizing both of Arthur’s hands the moment he let go.
“On second thought, I believe I need a few more minutes.”
“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Arthur said.
Once again, tears sprang to Arthur’s eyes. He closed them, feeling like a fool.
“Sorry. But this is . . . Jesse, it’s been sixteen years since I’ve felt anything even close to this. And I’m enamored with you. Completely, wonderfully enamored.”
“Enamored,” Jesse said through a playful-sounding scoff. “We’ve only spent, what, seven hours together?”
“Oh, it must be more than that. Eight, perhaps. Or even nine,” Arthur teased, and Jesse shook his head. “I know it’s fast, but once I knew that you liked me, I couldn’t stand the thought of not being with you. God, the moment you let out that breathy obscenity—”
“Excuse me?”
Arthur began to laugh. “I’m referring to the sound that you made when I had you pinned to the Grasshopper press,” he said, matter-of-factly. Jesse’s eyes widened. “You hadn’t meant to make it, had you? Did you even realize that you had?”
“I-it was as though everything went white for a few seconds when you . . . when you came close to me like that,” Jesse said, obviously reeling from this information.
Arthur shrugged. “Well, I knew that you must have liked me pressing against you like that. Or liked me overall. Of course, I hadn’t known for certain whether you’d want to be with me, seeing how things are in the world and therefore, how risky a relationship like ours would be, but I knew that I had to try to woo you somehow, regardless of the potential consequences. ”
“It was bold of you to be so blatantly charming like that.”
“Yes, well, that’s me. Bold to the point of being foolish.”
Jesse’s lovely smile returned. “I’m really happy you came to see me today.” He huffed an uneasy laugh, and his eyes flitted forward to the front of the carriage. “I feel bad for your coachman, though.”
“I promised him a substantial increase in pay for the week,” Arthur said. “If that makes you feel better.”
Wind rattled the carriage windows, and both of them winced.
“Perhaps you ought to throw in another one of those sofas as well,” Jesse suggested.
“Smart thinking.”
Jesse finally released Arthur’s hands.
“Did you really bring lunch?” he asked.
“Salted meats, cheeses, and fresh bread,” Arthur confirmed. “Oh! Pickled vegetables, too.”
Jesse’s eyes began to sparkle with a fondness that seemed to match Arthur’s own.
“Beautiful,” Jesse said simply.
Arthur asked, “Are you referring to me? Or the menu?”
Jesse pursed his lips for a moment. “Both. I think. Mostly the menu, though.”
Arthur threw his head back and laughed.