A New York Christmas (2 page)

T
wo days later the ship arrived in New York. From the deck of the liner, the city did not look so very different from London. But as soon as Jemima was ashore she heard the medley of different languages and saw Oriental faces and a good number of black ones, and others that were very fair, as if they were Scandinavian. Everyone was busy. There was an excitement, a tingle in the air, and she fully realized that she had come to a new place, even a new world, and, at least for the moment, alone.

It was overwhelming.

Phinnie clung to Jemima’s arm as people eddied around them. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going.

Jemima felt a moment’s panic. Then a slender brown-haired man was standing in front of them.

“Miss Cardew, Miss Pitt? My name is Farrell. I have come to take you home.”

He gave orders that their luggage should be brought and conveyed to the carriage that was waiting for them. Discreetly he passed coins to the porters, and their obedience was immediate.

“If you will accompany me,” he invited, “we shall go and take our places in the carriage so we may return home, where Mr. Brent is eager to see you.”

Phinnie’s eyes were bright with anticipation, and her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “That would be very nice. It …” She took a deep breath. “It seems like ages since we last met.”

“Much too long,” Mr. Farrell agreed. “But then the Atlantic is very wide, as I am sure you are acutely aware at this moment. However, you are most welcome.” He turned to Jemima. “And you also, Miss Pitt. You will find New York a marvelous city, full of life and adventure, a meeting place for the world.” He followed the porter across the open space of the wharf toward the way out, and the road.

“Mr. Albright made sure that all the necessary paperwork was attended to,” Farrell told them. “You will have nothing to do but show it to the officials as we leave.”

Phinnie smiled. “I shall thank him. He is so very … thoughtful.”

“That would be Mr. Rothwell Albright,” Farrell corrected her gently. “He is a man of great influence here in New York. But there is no doubt you are already aware of that.”

“Oh, yes.” Phinnie nodded, covering her error easily. “My father speaks of him often, and with the greatest regard.”

Farrell took her arm to help her up the steps, but he did not reply.

Jemima followed after them. Farrell did turn a couple of times to make certain she was not struggling, but the way was easy enough.

The ride from the dockside to the center of Manhattan, where the Albrights had their residence, was so fascinating that Jemima felt no wish to speak at all. Once they were off the main thoroughfare, she saw lots of shop signs not only in foreign languages but in lettering she did not recognize: Russian, perhaps? Or Hebrew? Some were undoubtedly Chinese.

But it was the people who held her attention. At a glance they were much like those of London. She was interested and somewhat comforted to observe the same
fashions. At least she would not look as much a foreigner as she felt.

On the narrow pavements groups of young men walked with a little swagger, an air of confidence. They looked around them, surveying their territory, as it were. Was it out of nervousness, or was it the arrogance of those who feel they have destiny in their grasp?

It was too late in the year for open carriages, but there were plenty of horse-drawn vehicles about, especially the wagons of tradesmen. But she also saw more motor vehicles than she could remember having seen in London. Sputtering loudly, they moved at what she judged to be no more than ten miles an hour, not as fast as a good carriage horse.

“It is your first time to New York, Miss Pitt?” Farrell asked her.

Reluctantly she turned to reply. “Yes. I have been to Paris once, but never to America before.”

He smiled. “And how do we compare with Paris?”

She smiled back at him. “I think my American will be better than my French,” she replied.

He laughed outright. “I have never been outside America, but I hear Paris is marvelous.”

“I think this will be marvelous too,” she said warmly.

They were passing through a more affluent area now. The buildings were large and handsome, but newer than those she was used to at home, and taller. She counted one on Fifth Avenue that was at least twelve stories high. How odd that such fine streets should have numbers and not names!

They soon arrived at the Albright mansion. Jemima and Phinnie alighted from the carriage, staring for a moment at the gorgeous façade before following Farrell up the steps and into the entrance hall. The chandelier hanging from the high, arched ceiling was the largest Jemima had ever seen. She made an instant decision to be charming, complimentary, and unimpressed. She owed it to her national honor not to gawk as if such things were not common at home.

They were met by Miss Celia Albright, a rather thin lady of uncertain age, who was to be their hostess.

“Welcome, my dear Phinnie,” Miss Albright said sweetly. “And to you, Miss Pitt. I hope you will be comfortable here. Mr. Cardew wrote to us to say how kind you had been in offering to accompany Phinnie so she would not have to travel alone.” Her face was a trifle too bony to be handsome, and certainly neither her gaunt
figure nor her rather ordinary clothes were those of a comely woman. Yet her thick, wavy hair was truly beautiful, and she moved her hands with grace. “I do hope you will enjoy your visit with us.”

“I am sure I will,” Jemima replied. Phinnie had told her little of Celia Albright, only that she was Mr. Rothwell Albright’s unmarried sister. Meeting her, Jemima thought she seemed to lack the confidence that belonging to such a prominent family would confer.

Miss Albright turned again to Phinnie. “May I show you to your rooms? The footman will bring up your cases later. I hope you will find all that you need has been provided.”

Phinnie followed Miss Albright up the wide, sweeping staircase. She looked very small behind the older, far taller woman. Jemima, a few steps behind, had the sudden impression that Phinnie was a lost child, far from home, seeking a new safety. It was ridiculous. Phinnie was going to marry a young man who loved her and was offering her a new and wonderful life, filled with every comfort she could wish. It was not as if she were among strangers. The Albrights and the Cardews had been in highly successful business together since long before
Phinnie was born. It was almost like a dynastic marriage within an extended family, aristocrats of the financial world.

Jemima was the stranger here, the daughter of a senior policeman but the granddaughter of a gamekeeper, for all that. Her mother was wellborn, but of gentry, certainly not either old wealth or nobility.

But none of that was supposed to matter, here in the New World where all men were equal, where it was the future that was important, not the past.

She drew in a deep breath and followed Phinnie and Miss Albright onto the landing and to the first bedroom, which was to be Phinnie’s until the wedding.

When Phinnie was settled, Miss Albright took Jemima to another, smaller room farther along the passage. She opened the door and allowed Jemima to walk in past her.

The room was a surprise. It was dominated not by the charming dressing table but by a window that looked out to the branches of a bare tree. She imagined in the summer it would be gorgeous, but even in the winter its fretwork of dark limbs against the sky was of great beauty.

“I love it!” Jemima said in delight. “It’s full of life!” She swung around to face Miss Albright, and was startled to see the emotion in the woman’s face. “I know that’s silly to say of a leafless tree,” she went on, to cover what she thought was a moment of strange, deep sentiment in the other. “But I love bare branches. It is as if the tree is revealing its true self.” She tried to think of further explanation, and saw in Miss Albright’s face that it was unnecessary.

“I don’t know Phinnie very well,” Jemima, continued, picking her words carefully, “but I am very close to my own mother, and I cannot imagine how lonely I would be if I were to come to a new country, no matter that they spoke my language, without at least one person I could confide in.” She smiled. “Even if it were only to tell them how happy I am, and for them to tell me when I don’t look my best, or need advice. This is both a privilege and an adventure for me.”

Miss Albright smiled with genuine affection. “I hope it will be both. If you wish to take a short rest before, dinner will be at eight o’clock. Betsy will unpack your cases for you. She is the lady’s maid who will be looking after Miss Cardew. We dress formally for dinner, but
Betsy will advise you which of your gowns will be the most suitable. I daresay you would like a cup of tea?”

Jemima accepted with gratitude.

T
he dinner was, as Miss Albright had said, very formal for a meal that involved no one outside the family except Jemima. She had accepted the advice of Betsy, who proved to be both efficient and knowledgeable, and had suggested a warm gown of dark green silk velvet with a wide skirt and a most flattering cut at the waist. Jemima was concerned that she might outshine Phinnie, but she need not have been. Phinnie came down the stairs in a gown of apricot silk, which murmured seductively as she walked, the warmth of its shading reflected on her skin, making her seem to glow with happiness.

Or perhaps she really did?

Brent Albright stood at the bottom of the wide staircase, watching her. A little farther back, his older brother, Harley, also waited as suited the occasion.

Harley was slightly taller than Brent, with thick fair
hair and a strong face that was not well-enough proportioned to be handsome. Brent, on the other hand, was almost as good-looking as Phinnie had claimed. His hair was darker than Harley’s, his eyes a deeper blue. But it was his smile that was most engaging. He held out his hand to Phinnie and she took his arm as she reached the last step, brushing close to him for a moment. Then she lifted her chin and sailed on to be presented to Mr. Rothwell Albright, who stood underneath the magnificent chandelier, the light of it making his silver hair into a kind of halo.

“Welcome to New York, my dear,” he said to Phinnie. “I wish your father could be here to join our celebrations, but I understand his reasons for remaining at home. I hope he recovers fully and soon.”

“Thank you, sir,” Phinnie said modestly. “I am sure he will. The doctors are hopeful.”

Mr. Albright turned to Jemima and regarded her with quite open interest. “And you are Miss Jemima Pitt, I believe. I am told by Edward that your father is a policeman of some considerable distinction. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” Jemima said, and was about to add
more, but realized that it was not appropriate at the moment. This evening was in honor of Brent and Phinnie. “I am glad Mr. Cardew spoke so well of him,” she added.

“Indeed. I have known Edward for more years than I care to recall. I trust him completely.” He offered his arm. “Would you care to accompany me in to dinner, Miss Pitt?”

She accepted his offer and rested her hand on the fine wool cloth of his sleeve as he led the way into the richly decorated dining room.

Miss Celia Albright followed on Harley’s arm, and Phinnie on Brent’s.

Though Jemima was determined not to be impressed, she was unable to help it. The room was beautiful, in a way that far surpassed mere showiness. The silver on the table was old and had an elaborate “A” engraved on all the handles. The condiment sets matched. Nothing had the look of being new or unused. Contrary to her preconception, the Albrights clearly had generations of being elite behind them.

“I hope you had a pleasant voyage?” Miss Albright said to Phinnie. “The Atlantic can be a little rough at this time of year.”

“Not enough to be uncomfortable, thank you,” Phinnie replied.

It had been unpleasant at times, but of course Phinnie knew better than to say so. Jemima wondered if all their conversation was going to be so polite, and generally meaningless. She had a fear that some people’s lives were like that: words skimming across the surface of reality, like birds over the waves, without ever getting wet.

“Our voyage to the Bahamas will be quite different,” Brent promised with a smile at Phinnie. “We shall bask in the sun, as soon as we are far enough south. Have you ever seen a flying fish?”

Phinnie’s eyes opened wide in amazement yet total belief. She would have accepted anything he said. “No, I haven’t.” She blushed. “I look forward to that.”

Jemima thought for a moment how marvelous it would feel to be so much in love with someone. Then she wondered if she could ever feel that overwhelmed with emotion. Perhaps she was already too old for it, a little too realistic. Or too cynical? That was an ugly thought. After all, how could you find magic if you did not believe in it? She knew people who could look at the most amazing and beautiful things and not see them.
She must not turn into someone like that. In a way, such people were the walking dead, passing through life untouched by its joy.

She suddenly realized that Celia Albright was talking to her, and she had not heard what had been said.