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Angelina's Resolve

By Cindy Ervin Huff

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Village of Women

Chicago, 1868
Chapter 1
NOOO.
The paneled walls pressed in on Angelina DuBois as she listened to the reading of her father’s will. Her corset prevented her from taking the deep breath necessary to gain control. She patted her perfectly coiffured hair, searching for a stray tendril to occupy her fidgety fingers.
The lawyer’s droning tone hammered into her soul when the words, “I Robert Archibald DuBois leave DuBois Architectural Interests to my nephew, Hiram Oswald DuBois, in accordance with my late brother, John Hiram DuBois’, last will in testament bequeathing the firm to his son after my death.”
Hiram straightened, and a smug smile formed.
Angelina pressed her lips tight to keep from screaming. Father had promised. He promised the company to her. She wrestled her slumping shoulders into submission and straightened her spine.
In the end, Father had not changed his will. He couldn’t retract his promise to his dying brother even if it meant Hiram’s inept leadership would be disastrous for DuBois. She rose to shake the lawyer’s hand.
The balding man with hairy jowls took her hand in his sweaty palm. “My condolences, Miss DuBois. Your father was a fine man.”
“He was. Thank you, Mr. Pruitt.”
Hiram shook Mr. Pruitt’s hand, then hurried to take her arm before she could put distance between them.
His tall gangly frame hovered too close. She pulled her arm free and turned to face him on the street in front of the law firm. “I suppose I shall be your assistant as I was my father’s?” The thought was irksome. Father needed her because his sight had failed, and he could no longer sketch his designs. Hiram used her to cover his mistakes. Surely, now he would get more accolades from her designs.
Hiram pointed to a nearby bench. A gentleman would have wiped off the bench with his handkerchief. Her cousin was no gentleman. She inspected the bench before sitting. He leaned over her. You don’t intimidate me, you dolt. She scowled up at him, placed her reticule in her lap and crossed her arms.
He adjusted his top hat while his leering eyes traveled over her frame. She glared in response.
“Now can we discuss my role in the firm. Am I to be your assistant or do you have another position for me?”
A you- poor-thing pout appeared on his face. “No to both. I think having a woman in that position would be very inappropriate. Uncle Robert may have indulged you, but I will not. The company is mine, and at last I can do things my way. You will clean out your office tomorrow.”
“You’re firing me?” Two children scampered by playing tag as a tug of war of emotions raced through her.
Hiram sat beside her and adjusted his cravat. “Dear Angelina, I have decided your time would be better spent securing a husband.” He touched her face. Angelina shivered and moved away. “Perhaps you might consider marriage to me.” Hiram caressed her hand. She jerked it away.
The horrid cockroach fires me after all I’ve done to insure his designs were flawless. The idea of marriage to her adopted first cousin caused her nose to twitch. Doves cooed in the trees. The urge to throw a rock at the innocent creatures flickered in her mind. And let you get your hands on the DuBois fortune.
“Cousin Hiram, money truly leads your decisions in all aspects of life. You have fired me and that’s that.” She rose and straightened the front of her skirt. “I am long past the age of majority and you have no hold over what I do and do not do with my life. I have a sizable inheritance which I can manage on my own. Father trained me well. So, I can take care of myself comfortably for the rest of my days. I’ll not be seeking a husband anytime soon, if ever. Good day, I shall empty my office this afternoon.”
She glared at him one last time. Her shoes beat a pace of irritation as she walked home. A carriage would reach her destination before her mind had settled to think straight.
Men were such selfish brutes. Even though her father had indulged her wish to get an architecture degree, until his eyesight wavered, he’d never allowed her in the office. His fading eyesight was a secret between the two. Even then, she was there to serve him, all her designs had his name on them.
Never will another man have control over my life.
***
Angelina sat stoic, her chest constricted as her personal maid and friend Bridget O’Malley poured tea. Her best friend, Teresa Shelling plopped two sugar cubes in her cup. Both eyed her with concern. It comforted and annoyed her. Her mind and heart had not settled enough to enjoy her best friend’s weekly visit. She took a deep breath then sipped her tea. Teresa leaned forward. “Why so glum?” She reached for a finger sandwich and nibbled as she focused on Angelina and waited.
“How can you say I’m glum?” Angelina gave a wooden smile, then focused on wiping imagined crumbs from her black satin gown.
“Look at me.” Teresa, a widow several years her senior had a tone that captured people’s attention. Her taffeta gown ruffled as she moved to capture Angelina’s chin in her hand.
“Angelina Elizabeth DuBois, you know you can’t keep secrets from me.”
Angelina moved her chin, sighed, and stirred her tea absentmindedly. “I don’t wish to cast aspersions…”
“Talking about my troubles always makes me feel better.” Teresa smiled and nodded encouragement.
“Tell her, ma’am.” Bridget rarely spoke without being addressed in the presence of Angelina’s guests. “You’ve had a grave injustice thrust upon ye. Don’t let it press ya down.”
“Hear, hear.” Teresa clapped her approval.
Angelina shook her head in surrender. She motioned for Bridget to sit next to her. Surrounded by her two dearest friends, she cried bitter tears as she recounted the events of the previous day. Heaviness left her shoulders as she ended her tale. “Hiram is a greedy scarecrow trying to wear the DuBois name like a King’s crown.”
“I’m relieved you did not agree to marry the braggart.” Bridget patted Angelina’s hand.
“The thought of it gives me shivers.” Teresa shook away the imagined discomfort.
“I have no need for a man, particularly one of his ilk.” Angelina wiped her eyes with her lace hankie. “What will I do? I love designing buildings. No one will hire me.”
“What about the buildings all over town you designed.” Teresa sat up straight and took up her tea cup.
“My father or Hiram’s names appeared on my designs. I’ve no portfolio to share with a potential client.”
“Why not start your own firm? You could show ‘em all.” Bridget rose and retrieved the tea pot. “I’ll warm this, ma’am.”
“I said I have no portfolio.”
“Then buy some land and build something.” Teresa spread her hands wide and cocked her head to the side and smiled. Her enthusiasm spread to Angelina. “I’ve been reading in the paper the many editorials by Horace Greeley regarding utopian experiments.”
“You mean the communes?” Bridget entered and freshened their tea. “Don’t look so surprised. I may be a maid, but I read the paper.”
“I have no interest in a commune run by controlling idealist men.” Angelina scoffed as she reached for a sandwich, her appetite returning with the free flow of ideas.
“So, build one run by women. We both know how difficult it is for educated women to make their way. Greeley is a great example of male hypocrisy. He supported antislavery legislation before the war but does not support women’s suffrage. “Teresa sipped her tea.
“We women need to vote to show the men what’s what.” Bridget heralded from her position by the door.
“That sounds interesting. But I don’t want to build a commune.”
The clock chimed three and three male figurines slid to the clock face and sawed wood then slid back inside when the chime completed. Angelina stared at the clock face as an idea formed. “What about a town? I could design the lay out of the streets and parks, the building designs.”
Teresa began to pace. “A town where women own the businesses and run the city government. “I’ve always wanted to run for mayor.”
“Twould be quite an undertaking ma’am, but yer up to the task.” Bridget cleared away the empty plate.
“How would we persuade people to move to this town?” Angelina’s mind began to fill with creative designs. “I don’t want to create a utopia, just a nice place for families and a legacy for DuBois Architecture that is still standing after Hiram destroys what Father built. I do like the idea of women owning businesses and running things.” Hiram’s sour expression entered her musing, making her smile. “Yes, I like it a lot.”
“While you’re planning this, ma’am, can me and my friends find opportunity in your town. I always wanted to open a bakery.”
“Yes, you’ve told me you feel you were born to be a baker. I’ve the only personal maid who makes cookies for my guests.” Angelina stood and hugged her friend. “Of course, in the spirit of women’s suffrage we should contrive a way to make it easy for even women with less education to succeed.”
“Ay, ma’am. I am sure if we put our heads together, we shall.” Bridget fisted her hand, cocked her elbow and punch the air a satisfied smile appeared on her face.
Angelina hugged her friend and led her to the settee.
“There is so much to be done. I’ll need help with the legal end. Teresa, don’t you have a law degree?”
“Indeed, I do. I wrote all my late husband’s legal and business contracts. I even litigated a suit defending my husband’s manufacturing plant against a disgruntled employee. We won, of course.” Teresa bowed and slumped in her chair. “Then I never had another chance to do anything with my degree but defend my right to inherit my husband’s estate after he died.”
“Well, Attorney Shelling, now is your chance. We’ve a lot to do before we can even offer people a lovely town to move to.”

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