She Walks in Beauty (32 page)

Franklin came to call later that afternoon. Inexplicably, Aunt rose and walked from the room, leaving me alone with him. But then a dog toddled into the parlor.

I glanced at the door through which Aunt had just disappeared. If the dogs were about, she must have kept herself near. I endeavored to ignore it, but the dog did not return the favor. It came straight over, stood in front of Franklin, and began to bark.

Franklin held out a hand toward it. “Nice dog.”

The beast curled back its lips and grinned. And then, contrary to everything I knew to be true about it, the dog sat on its haunches, extended its neck, and whined as it pawed at Franklin’s hand.

“Er . . .”

“They’re my aunt’s.”

“They? There are more?”

“There are three.”

As if responding to some unseen signal, the dog suddenly turned and sped toward the hall.

“Well.”

I smiled at him. “Well.” What was it that Lizzie said she’d spoken to him about? It was something he’d never mentioned to me. And I’d kept it in my thoughts for a moment exactly like this one. A moment in which I could think of nothing to say. If only I could remember what it was!

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“I . . .” I would have loved to, but I couldn’t. Shouldn’t. “I can’t. It’s my at-home day.”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed for just a moment, but then he smiled. “Perhaps I’ll ask Lizzie then.”

The clock tolled the hour.

I stood.

He stood. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure was entirely mine. Thank you for coming.”

And then he was out the door and off to Lizzie’s.

It wasn’t a second later that Aunt appeared. “Well?”

“He asked me to go for a walk.”

“And?”

“I said that I couldn’t. It’s Tuesday.” What other choice did I have?

“He asked you to go for a walk and you declined?” Her voice had risen with each word.

“Tuesdays are my at-home day.”

“There’s at-home and there’s at home. I wouldn’t expect you to be at-home on a day when the heir asked you to go out.”

“But then … visitors wouldn’t find me at home.” And wasn’t that the point of having an at-home day?

“Must you be so literal? Is it too late to recall him?”

Probably. “He’s on his way to Lizzie’s.”

“To Lizzie’s? You sent him to the arms of your rival?”

I put a hand to my head, where the throbbing had grown more insistent. “There are too many rules. And I don’t understand any of them!”

“Then let me make it clear: There is only one true rule. And that is to catch the De Vries heir at any cost. At the expense of any rule. Of every rule. Do you understand now?”

I had some time between my at-home hours and dinner, so I returned to my room and took my scrapbook from its box. I had been clipping the articles from
The New York Journal
and
The Tattler
along with some pieces from
Ladies’ Home Journal
. I’d saved the menus from all of my balls and dinners. So I set about pasting them into my book, beside the colorful scrap images that Mama and Lizzie had given me over the years.

As I pasted the articles, I reread them.

I paused when I came to
The Tattler
article commemorating our carriage’s mad flight into The Bowery. Mr. Hooper must have kept a closer watch on my movements than I had realized. And he seemed to think my father had business in that part of the city. Though he had been given to delusions, his sister had been my father’s patient.

As I thought about it, about my conversation with Father, I discovered a very great wish to know what business Mr. Hooper thought my father had in The Bowery.

I couldn’t very well ask the coachman to take me back the way his horses had run. I didn’t want to interrogate my father; and I couldn’t drag Harry, the brother of the man I was to marry, into a place so disreputable. So I decided to ask the only other person I knew to associate with the incident.

“You want to what?” Mr. Douglas had leaned close in order to hear me over the strains of the orchestra, and his eyes had grown to the size of bread plates as I had explained my plan. But now they were staring at me through narrow slits.

“I want to go back to that part of the city where you helped my aunt and me. That day when our carriage ran away with us.”

“Why?”

“Because
The Tattler
implied that my father had some sort of dealings in that area.”

“I know.”

“You … do?”

He blinked. Straightened. “Of course. I keep up with all of the columns. Professional interest.”

I wondered if he had known Mr. Hooper. “So will you take me?”

“To The Bowery? I’d as soon escort you to hell.”

“Then I’ll just have to go by myself. Thank you ever so much for your concern.”

“Listen here.” Mr. Douglas took me by the arm and pulled me further from the ballroom.

“Let go of me.”

“No. You stop. Right now. And don’t give another thought to going there. Ever.”

“But I just told you: If you won’t help me, then I’ll go alone.” My voice sounded much more confident than I was. Go alone? A debutante in New York City? The one sacrosanct rule in my life, besides
Secure Franklin at All Costs
, was that I must never, ever go anywhere alone. I was never to be left unescorted.

“Don’t you know about those people?”

“Of course I do! I’ve read the book.”

“The book.”

“Riis’s book. I’ve read about those people. And I . . .” I pitied them.

With the same kind of pity I saw in Mr. Douglas’s eyes when he looked at me. But just then it was colored with something near … affection. “It makes a person start to think, doesn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Listen.” He said it much more gently this time. “There’s nothing good to be found in The Bowery. And quite a bit of bad. The best thing you can do is just stay away.”

“But—”

“There’s lots of work to be done in The Bowery, but none of it can be accomplished by you.”

“How can you say that?”

“What are you going do? March down there with your good intentions and sprinkle some money on them? They’d slit your throat before you were done. And no one would blame them.” He threaded my arm through his and clasped his hand over mine with such a firm grip that when he turned to walk back toward the ballroom, I could do nothing but follow.

“Then why does my father go there?”

“Who says he does?”

“
The Tattler
.”

“Well,
The Tattler
doesn’t know … much of anything!” He pressed his lips into a straight flat line.

“But why did he think my father—”

“There are some things you don’t need to know.” He was almost yelling.

“But—”

“And there are some things I’m not going to tell you. Just stay away from there.”

“But why does he go there?”

“I don’t know.” But it was quite clear that in fact he did.

“But you’re a newspaperman. You’re supposed to know everything!”

“Tell that to my editor.”

He wasn’t willing to be persuaded. Maybe if I had been Lizzie, I could have batted my eyelashes and simpered. But I was only Clara. With a mouth that was too large and hands that were too big. And I was never going to find out anything. A tear slipped down my cheek.

“Aw. Don’t—you can’t—don’t cry!”

“It’s just that
The Tattler
. . . every time you wrote something nice about me, every time you flattered me in
Society
, he wrote something … terrible. And not just rude, but venomous. He truly hated me.” And now Mr. Douglas hated me too. Hadn’t he just been yelling at me?

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so. And I’m just so … tired . . .” I lifted my hand to swipe at a tear. “And now you won’t help me—”

He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Because I don’t want to hurt you. Please . . .” He had fished a handkerchief from his pocket and now he offered it to me. “Please let this be the end of it.”

“But—”

“No good can come from knowing.”

“What
is
The Bowery, Mr. Douglas?”

“It’s a place where . . .” He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. “Where … women who are not … nice … meet men who are not … nice.”

“For heaven’s sake, just tell me the truth!”

“The truth? It’s a place of prostitutes and extortionists and abortionists. Where women die too young and men live too long! Now do you understand?”

A place of prostitutes and extortionists and abortionists? Then why did my father go there? If indeed he did. And more important, why had Mr. Douglas been there that day too?

Mr. Vandermere claimed me for a dance, and then Mr. Hamilton. Harry hadn’t signed for a dance with me, though he danced a waltz with Lizzie. They looked good together. They complemented each other. She short and fair; he tall and dark. Perhaps … was Aunt right? About the two of them?

As I walked with Aunt during intermission, I asked her to escort me to Katherine. She was standing by herself. One of the benefits of marriage. Once a girl was permanently attached to a man, she could go almost wherever she wanted by herself. I followed her gaze. She was looking at her husband. He was drinking in the corner. Also by himself.

“Is the baron … quite all right?”

She looked over at me. “He’s fine. He doesn’t like it here in the city. I had thought that I missed it. So he came. For me. I owe him … everything.”

She must have seen my skepticism written on my brow.

“I do. I know it may not seem it, but he is a very kind man. Especially in Germany, where I don’t speak the language.”

“You don’t speak German?”

“My son does. But I never have. I’m trying. I have a tutor. But languages have always been so difficult for me.” She spoke the words with no little regret.

“Then how do you speak to him? How did you come to know him?”

“I was not … able to remain here. In New York. So it was decided that I was to take a tour of the Continent.”

“And it was there you met him?”

“Yes.”

That one word seemed to preclude any other questions. It would not have been polite to press for more information, not when she had shared so much already, and so I remained silent.

But she was not finished. “It was discovered that I had something the baron needed. And it’s not a bad marriage. The bond only truly chafes when I come home. When I’m confronted with what it is that I have lost.” It was then I realized she wasn’t really looking at me. She was looking beyond me to the far side of the room as she spoke.

I turned to see what it was that had gained her attention.

It was Mr. Douglas.

28

LIZZIE HAPENED BY at that moment, with Franklin. He dropped her with us and then went in search of some refreshment. She greeted Katherine and then leaned close to speak of me. “I had a most delightful walk with Franklin.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, it was. But … how did you know?”

“It was me he left before he went to you. Tuesdays are my athome day.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “I hate having to be at home.”

“Where did you walk?”

“With Franklin? Up to Central Park. With Mama. He bought me some chestnuts. And promised to take me skating on Friday!”