Elizabeth lengthened her neck, and her seven or so reflected images turned their chins up contemplatively. “How many trains do you think leave from Grand Central, in the direction of California, every day?”
“Why would you want to know a thing like that?” Penelope replied flatly, without looking up from the hem of her friend’s dress.
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted down to the yards and yards of pale pink satin spilling out around her. “Just that the world is so big now, I suppose. Don’t you think about that sometimes?”
“No,” came Penelope’s quick response. She stood, her arms across her chest, and leaned against one of the mirrors so that she was looking right at Elizabeth. “Outside of New York and Newport, what do you need? Newport was so much fun last summer, by the way. It was truly the best summer of my life.” Then she added, in a purposeful tone: “Henry was there.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Diana put in. “At least, not for all of it. He was in Saratoga for some of the season, too…at least, I remember there being reports of him.” The two older girls were giving Diana a perplexed look, and so she continued in a quieter tone. “Wasn’t he, Aunt Edith? Don’t you remember everyone saying that William Schoonmaker’s son had come to town?”
Aunt Edith, whose head was tipped backward and whose eyes were mostly closed, made a snoring sound. “What?” she said, coming awake for a moment. “Not bustles…” she went on dreamily, even as her eyes returned to resting. “Those were all the rage when I was a girl, but no more, no more…”
There were muted giggles all around the room, quiet enough not to wake Aunt Edith, and then Mr. Carroll brought them back to the business of the day.
“All right, my gorgeous gal, I am done with you,” he singsonged. Elizabeth gave him her old winning smile and allowed him to help her down from the block. Mr. Carroll had long been a favorite of the Holland sisters, and they visited him often at his own shop, as well as at the workroom he kept at Lord & Taylor so that clients like themselves could get the first pick of fabrics. “Penelope, m’lady, you’re up next.”
Elizabeth and Penelope linked arms and moved in the direction of the little room where Elizabeth could take off her new dress and Penelope could put on her new one. Diana was slouching indulgently and she was sorry, she realized—looking at the backs of their heads—that they were leaving even for a minute. Surely there would be talk of Henry she would miss, and Henry talk—no matter how banal—made her breath quicken.
“Oh, excuse me, mademoiselle,” said a salesgirl in a simple black shirt and white skirt. She was carrying a long, thin, white box. “I have a package from Henry Schoonmaker—”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward and turning a little pink in the cheeks.
“—for Miss Diana Holland.”
“Oh!” Penelope exclaimed, turning sharply in Diana’s direction.
The salesgirl advanced toward Diana, who was still lounging on the sofa, and handed her the box. Then she stepped backward, hovering expectantly.
“Why would Henry be sending presents to you?” Penelope’s voice was sharp, and her plush lips were hanging open expectantly.
Diana stared down at the clean lines of the box. She could hardly believe she was holding something from Henry, especially in front of other people. She was almost afraid of what was inside, as though her secret thoughts about Henry were enclosed, ready to be revealed the moment she lifted the top. But Diana was not easily frightened, or so she reminded herself.
“Go on,” Elizabeth said. She had drawn herself up the way their mother might have, and was watching Diana irritably. “Open it up.”
Diana gave a little exhale and lifted open the lid. Inside was a pretty but really very ordinary ribbon of light blue silk, decorated with little ships, sewn in navy and yellow thread. Diana tried not to look disappointed as she held it up for Penelope and Elizabeth to see.
“Oh, a ribbon,” Elizabeth said flatly. “To replace the one on your hat.”
“A little girl’s gift, for our little Di,” Penelope added, smiling in a smug sort of way. “How adorable. You see, Henry is being sweet with you, Elizabeth, by sending trinkets to your little sister.”
Several witty rebuttals clamored in Diana’s brain, but Penelope and Elizabeth had already turned and were heading for the changing room, and the girl who had delivered the ribbon was on her way back to work, looking somewhat let down by what she’d witnessed in the Hollands’ private room.
Looking at the ribbon, Diana couldn’t help feeling foolish. Penelope was right—that was what stung. It was the kind of gift you gave a child to shut her up. And maybe that was what Henry was trying to do. She pulled at the ribbon angrily, its whole length unfolding from the box, and as she did, a small, intricately folded piece of paper fell to the ground.
Diana raised her eyes and checked the activity of the others in the room. Aunt Edith was still snoring lightly, and Mr. Carroll was moving busily about, mumbling to himself and oblivious. Diana reached down and picked up the paper.
It’s the craziest thing, but I cannot stop thinking about you.
—HS
Her heart paused its relentless thumping as she read, and a thrill crept through the whole of her body. It was almost as good as a real and sudden kiss.
Twenty Three
A society lady’s personal maid is usually paid in a month what a shopgirl makes in a week, and is expected to react with glee when offered hand-me-down frocks and other once-costly items that her mistress no longer cares for. It is outrageous that, on the eve of the twentieth century, such disparities should still exist.
––FROM THE EDITORIAL PAGE OF THE NEW YORK IMPERIAL, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1899
LINA HOVERED IN THE FOYER OF THE HOLLAND house, hoping for something to happen. Maybe Will would sneak up behind her and whisper in her ear how much he appreciated the gentle nursing of his wounds. But if she’d put away her hopes for a moment, she might have admitted to herself that Will wasn’t paying her very much attention at all these days. Since that Sunday afternoon when she’d bandaged his hand, he had seemed completely absorbed in his own private thoughts. His mind was still stuck on Elizabeth, she knew, and Lina was beginning to get the sinking feeling that she should have told him how she felt that day in the carriage house when she’d had her chance.
Outside, the whole city had been thrown into the activity of the parade. Of course, she herself was stuck behind the oak door of her employer’s home, looking out through the beveled glass. She wished she could be there in the crowd, eating freshly popped corn at Will’s side. Or better yet, on one of those big yachts that the fancy types went all over the world on. What a thing that would be, to feel the ocean air against her face, to be able to go anywhere and see anything.
Supposedly there were soldiers all over the city. She had read in Harper’s Weekly that tomorrow, thirty thousand of them would march through the city, from Grant’s Tomb to the Battery, as part of the parade. She tried to glimpse some of those hordes of uniformed men through the glass, but all she saw was her sister hurrying up the sidewalk. She was with one of the lithe Lord & Taylor boys—they hired only attractive salesmen, the better to lure soft-headed female shoppers—and they were carrying two gigantic, unwieldy dress boxes.
Lina opened the door and decided that the salesman, though certainly worth looking at, wasn’t nearly so handsome as Will. “Do you need help?” she called.
Her sister’s face was red with exertion, but the Lord & Taylor boy gave her an effortless smile. He couldn’t have been much older than Claire, and his face had fair stubble scattered across it.
“We’ve almost got it,” Claire said as she puffed up the stairs, onto the iron filigreed porte cochere. They managed to get the oblong boxes in through the door, and placed them on the polished oak table by the entryway. Claire sighed and smiled at the salesman who had helped her. “Well, thank you…”
He shrugged indifferently, and stared at the red-haired maid with lazy confidence. His eye
s were hazel and unflinching. It was clear that he thought his profession put him several rungs above the Broud sisters. Lina noticed her sister blushing and was embarrassed for her. It was perfectly obvious that the boy’s stalling had nothing to do with his interest in them. When the awkwardness had become excruciating, he said, “The payment…?”
“Oh!” Claire gasped, her cheeks turning an unflattering eggplant color. She looked at Lina helplessly. “Well, we don’t…but I’m sure if you…”
He nodded carelessly, then reached into his pocket and removed a bill of sale. “If you could give this to Mrs. Holland, then. And Mr. Carroll told me to remind her that there are a number of unpaid bills.”
“I see,” Claire said softly as she took the paper. “I will tell her.”
“Please do,” he said. There was an unpleasant irony in his voice. Then he lifted the brim of his hat and began a slow swagger down the stairs and back toward Broadway. Just before she turned and followed her sister back inside, she saw the Lord & Taylor boy turn and shoot her a wide grin.
“He was handsome,” Claire whispered excitedly as they lifted the oversize boxes and carried them up the back stairs. Lina tried to make an affirmative noise, but she only felt bad for her sister for being attracted to men like that. They were hired for their ability to flirt with ladies on shopping trips, not with ladies’ maids running errands. But Claire was always more or less living in a fantasy world, and Lina supposed it was better not to disturb it.
“I can’t wait to see them,” Claire said as they came into Elizabeth’s room. They laid the dress boxes on Elizabeth’s broad sleigh bed, and Claire removed the top. She pushed aside the tissue paper and unfolded the ornamented, pale pink gown from its resting place. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, almost to herself. The light of the dress seemed to reflect back on her face, illuminating it.
“Yes,” Lina admitted grudgingly. It was beautiful, and though she was loath to be interested in such things, she could not help picturing herself in it, just for a moment.
“She’s going to wear it tonight, when she’s in public with Schoonmaker for the first time. She’ll look perfect, don’t you think?”
Lina grunted. The thought of Elizabeth’s perfect appearance gave her no pleasure. It caused her pain, in fact, reminding her as it did that she would never be done up in jewels and silks, that all the tricks with which Elizabeth caught Will’s attention were off-limits to her.
“Did you see Miss Liz’s ring, Lina? What a thing it is.” Claire laid the dress down across the bed. She examined its clusters of gold and pearl embellishments.
“I saw it.” Lina looked away from the intricate folds and ruffles and wondered what Will’s face would be like if he saw her in that dress. She’d always thought that pink silk would be lovely against her skin, but she had never had the chance to find out. “It’s enormous.”
“The papers say it cost one thousand dollars. Can you imagine? One thousand dollars!”
Lina shook her head disgustedly. “No, I can’t. It’s immoral is what it is. I mean, just think how long it would take us to make that kind of money.”
“Well, we each make twelve dollars a month, so that’s…” Claire rolled her eyes up to the coved ceiling and seemed to be calculating it. She shrugged when she lost count and said, “I don’t know, but a long time, that’s for sure.”
“We’d get there in something under a decade, you ninny. Think what we could do with that kind of money, where we could go. Anywhere, really. We could make our own decisions, and get out of these groveling, mind-numbing jobs.” By we Lina had meant Will and her, and she could feel a smile creeping onto her face at the very idea. “I mean, if we had that ring, and we sold it—”
“Don’t talk that way!” Claire’s dreamy voice had been replaced by a sharp, slightly frightened one. “It’s wrong to be gossiping like this.”
Lina couldn’t help an affectionate laugh. “But you love gossip.”
“Not about the Hollands,” Claire said in a final tone. She drew her hand across the dress, smoothing out its wrinkles. Then she picked it up and hung it from the black-and-gold paneled screen that Elizabeth dressed behind. She lingered by the dress, staring at it affectionately.
Lina gave her a moment, and then said, “That was odd downstairs, don’t you think?”
“What was?” Claire turned innocently to look at her sister.
“The bit about the unpaid bills.”
Claire’s eyes darted toward the door nervously and then settled on her sister. She gave her a worried look and said,
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” Lina said in a low, confidential voice.
“I think they’re having some money…trouble.”
“Who?” Lina asked, taking a step closer to her sister across the deeply shaded oriental carpet.
“The Hollands.” Claire looked around her, as though she might suddenly find one of their mistresses in the room. “It’s just that, I’ve seen that man, Mr. Broussard…the one who sold off some of Mr. Holland’s collection when he died? He’s been here, I’ve seen him several times, and he’s left with…things.” Claire bit her lip, as though she was coming to the most painful part. “And not just the out-of-fashion things.”
“But the Hollands couldn’t be…” Lina paused to consider the possibility that the Hollands, with all their fancy things and ridiculous rules and uppity attitudes, could want for money. Although she had come, in the last few days, to entertain many bad thoughts about her mistress, the idea that her employers might not be rich was shocking. It turned her whole world on its head. It meant that the ways she spent her hours, and the subservience with which her sister carried herself, were absurd.
“And the other day,” Claire whispered, “I think I heard something. It was when Mr. Cutting was here, and Miss Diana said—”
They were both startled from their hushed conversation by the scraping of the door against the floor, and the sight of Elizabeth coming into the room. “Oh!” she said, clearly surprised by the sight of her two maids in her bedroom.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Claire gasped. She moved away from her sister and tried to put on a big smile. “I just brought the dresses back from Lord and Taylor, and we were making sure everything was all right with them.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said slowly. She looked back and forth at the two Broud girls. Perhaps she was wondering why both of them needed to be there, Lina thought as she shifted under Elizabeth’s suspicious gaze. For a moment, Lina felt something like pity for her mistress—she was probably poor, and it would be especially hard for her to get used to a life without gowns, because she was accustomed to it. But then Lina reminded herself of all that Elizabeth had taken from her, and she subtly squared her shoulders.
“And I must say, your dress is exquisite,” Claire went on in a high, silly, overly enthusiastic voice that made her younger sister wince. “You will look truly, unbelievably beautiful in it.”
This seemed to satisfy Elizabeth. “Thank you, Claire, that is very sweet of you to say.”
She turned her gaze back on Lina, and for a long moment they stared at each other. Lina tried to give her a smile, but her mistress did not return the expression. Once upon a time she had looked up to Elizabeth, but that time felt very far away. Now it seemed like every day she was learning dirty little secrets about her former friend. That perfect image she tried so hard to maintain was cracked all over.
Lina let the smile fade from her face, but she did not budge from the spot in the middle of her mistress’s room. She knew what society girls did with dirty little secrets. They collected them and used them to their own social advantage. Well, Lina had ambitions, too, and she could play that game just as well. Sitting around feeling sorry for herself and bemoaning the injustice of her life as a ladies’ maid wasn’t going to get her anything; she could see that now.
Lina would play her game, and sooner or later, Will would realize how duplicitous Elizabeth
was. Then he would be able to see Lina with new eyes—not as a maid—but as a lady worthy of his affections.
Twenty Four
Elizabeth,
I apologize, for the water-parade festivities have turned out to be somewhat more time-consuming than I had anticipated. I’m afraid I cannot escort you to the party, but I will meet you in the lobby, at eight thirty, and we will make our entrance then.
Regards,
H. Schoonmaker
“SO TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT?”
Elizabeth gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror over her dressing table and considered the question. Her face was white with powder, except for her cheekbones, which were colored with blush, and her mouth, which was full red. Her hair was done up in elaborate curls and laced through with little freshwater pearls. These were among the few words Lina had said to her all day, or maybe even all week. She pursed her lips, considering her answer. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, with the young Mr. Schoonmaker, of course,” Lina said, with a familiarity that struck Elizabeth as out of character—at least in recent times. “The first night you are a couple,” she added, with another wrenching pull of Elizabeth’s corset strings.
“Henry?” she asked as her maid yanked her waist even narrower. The mention of Henry was surprising, because all she had been thinking about for days was Will’s threat to leave. For her, tonight had hardly a thing to do with Henry. It was the night that Will was leaving. “What time is it, Lina?” she asked, thinking again of the trains and whether Will was already aboard.
“Eight o’clock, Miss Holland,” Lina answered quickly.
She could feel her heart sinking. Will had told her clearly what he was going to do, and now he was gone. Of course he was gone. It was eight o’clock, and surely the last train from Grand Central had already departed.
Lina pulled at Elizabeth’s corset again, and Elizabeth gasped for breath.