She Walks in Beauty (34 page)

By the time the carriage stopped in front of my house, the three De Vrieses were harmonizing in song as if Lizzie’s accident had never occurred.

I was able, that evening, to see Lizzie since Father was going to check in on her.

She was lying in bed, pale as a specter. “I’ve spoilt everyone’s good time. Did you know about the tea party?”

“The one with the Russians? And the dancing bear?”

“And the Cossack dancers. Yes.” Lizzie said it in the chastised tones of a small child.

I hadn’t known about the dancers. “But it’s not as if you’d planned to spoil it. It’s
you
Franklin should have thought about. Not himself.”

“He’d only meant to amuse me.”

“If he likes the idea so much, then he can do it again. At a later time. Once you’re well.”

Her face brightened at my words. “I would have liked to have seen it.”

“You know you must be his only concern.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.” At least … I hoped so. Because what would it say about his character if she weren’t? I bent to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re right. And you’re going to the Hamiltons’ ball tonight. I wish I could be there.”

“But—you—” It was then that I fully comprehended the consequences of her injury. Lizzie wouldn’t be attending the ball. Or any other ball. Not for a very long time.

“But what am I to do? Without you?”

“You’re to go to all those balls and be fabulously beautiful. Breathtakingly lovely. And you’re to capture the heart of the De Vries heir.”

“No.” I was shaking my head.

She placed her hands on my cheeks. “Yes. If he can’t propose to me, then he must propose to you.”

“But … it’s only a sprain. That’s what Father said. You’ll be back on your feet in … no time! And perhaps sooner if you put twice as many plasters on it and take twice as many tonics!”

Lizzie was shaking her head in such a mournful way.

“But you must be able to … to … go to dinner parties! And the opera?”

She took one of my hands between her own. “No.”

“But I can’t do this without you!”

She squeezed it. “You must. And after, you must endeavor to see me, just like always. And tell me everything that you’ve done.” She pressed back into her pillow. The light had gone out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie. So very sorry.”

“So am I.”

I leaned forward and placed another kiss upon her brow before leaving.

I walked back home with Father. Once our cloaks had been taken, once I had changed for dinner, we met up again with Aunt in the dining room.

Aunt ate with great zeal that evening. “What incredible good fortune. That the Barnes girl would put herself out of contention!”

Good fortune? Poor Lizzie. I’d like to push Aunt down the stairs and give her a chance at “incredible good fortune”!

“Yes. I told them it would be at least two weeks before she will want to test the strength of her ankle. And at least several after that before she can dance.”

Two weeks without her. At least. They stretched before me bleak and desolate. I imagined one ball after another, one dinner after another, with no one to share them with and no one to provide a break from Franklin. I wished I’d sprained my own ankle instead. As I came out of my reverie, it was to find both Father and Aunt staring at me.

“Clara, this your chance. No more waiting. No more dithering about.” Aunt had put down her fork to speak to me.

Father took a sip of wine and then addressed me as well. “You have two weeks to secure the heir. Perhaps a bit more if I can talk the Barneses into keeping Lizzie off her feet.”

They would try to keep her in bed? For my benefit? But didn’t they understand? I couldn’t do this, any of it, none of it without her!

“You must move quickly. And when the time is right—” Aunt looked toward Father.

He nodded.

“When the time is right, then we will act.”

29

THE NEXT DAY I snuck out of the house and over to Lizzie’s just as soon as I could figure out how to do it. Though she had cheered when she’d first seen me, she’d taken to her pillow once more in a sulk.

“Illness becomes you. It’s too bad Franklin can’t see you like this.”

Lizzie scowled.

“Truly. Especially since it’s nearly Valentine’s Day.” She looked rather tragic with her golden curls askew about her head and her high color muted.

“I wish it became me to sleep all day. They won’t let me leave my bed.”

I leaned close. And then closer. “You should really ask for an opinion from a different doctor.”

Lizzie looked at me, confusion dimming her eyes. “But why? Your father treated me as soon as it happened.”

“I know. But … just … please, Lizzie. Ask to see another doctor. Scream and yell. Have a conniption fit. Do whatever you have to, only don’t—” please, don’t leave me alone!—“surrender the season without a fight.”

“Do you think … do you really think I could come back? Before the season’s over?”

I nodded. Rather vigorously.

“Then I’ll do it.”

Before we stepped outside the next night to join the waiting carriage, Aunt took one of my hands into hers and then presented me with a nosegay of red roses. “For Valentine’s Day. And good luck.”

Apparently, every other debutante’s mother had been struck by the same idea. All of us stood around the room with red roses clasped between our hands. Until the dancing began. Then we thrust them into the hands of our chaperones.

Franklin had come equipped for the evening. He was walking around with a red rose in his lapel and a gilded bow and arrow between his hands. As he aimed it at various girls in the room, they shrieked and pretended to scamper for cover.

Eventually, he made his way to me, where I stood talking with Katherine and Harry.

Franklin closed an eye, crouched, and aimed his arrow at Harry.

Harry only frowned and pushed at him.

Franklin straightened. “Nah. Only works when Cupid has promising material to work with. Can’t shoot the thing anyway.” He tossed it onto a table and took up a glass of champagne instead. He sipped from it as he looked about the dance floor. His face brightened. He touched my arm. “Wait here. For just a minute.”

And where was I going to go? By myself? Without an escort?

True to his word, he returned a minute later. And then, with a bow and a flourish, he pulled a card from his coat.

A Valentine’s Day card. Overly large, it glistened with jewels and dripped with pearls. I could do nothing but hold it up in front of me, displaying it as a badge of honor or a prize of war.

He laughed as I exclaimed over it. Over the abundance of gems and the number of pearls. Then he took it from me and handed it to Katherine for safekeeping, offering to escort me outside. To take some air.

The two of us? Alone? Reputations had been ruined for lesser transgressions. I demurred, staying with Katherine instead.

“So he gave it to you.” Katherine studied the card. “You know, he spent over one hundred dollars on them.”

“Them?”

“Each one. He ordered one for Lizzie too.”

I could tell by her tone that she considered the sum misspent. And so did I. “I can’t accept it.”

Her eyes softened in color as her glance turned from the card to me. “And why not? What does it really mean, except some foolish spendthrift has paid more for an ostentatious display of his affections than he ought to have?”

“But one hundred dollars!”

“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

The nights seemed so very long without Lizzie, managing Franklin on my own. Thank heaven I had remembered her advice. When all else failed, I asked him about himself. He seemed to have ready answers. That went on and on and on.

“The celebrated and feted Miss Carter.” He twirled me through the steps of a waltz. “You look good with me. You lend me a touch of elegance. And grace.”

Maybe he did read the papers after all.

I danced with Mr. Lorillard and Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Vandermere.

And Harry.

As he appeared to claim me for his dance, he withdrew a small cluster of pansies from his coat. The petals were crushed and the stems bent, but they were charming in their humility.

“The French call them
pensées
. For thoughts.”

“Then thank you for thinking of me. They’re my favorites.”

The tops of his cheeks colored unaccountably. “That gentian blue … it matches your eyes nearly exactly.”

It was my turn to blush.

Over the sounds of the crowds, the orchestra could plainly be heard, tuning their instruments. This dance was to be the highlight of the evening. The cotillion for which everyone had practiced. Harry offered me his hand.

I took it up, and between our palms we clasped the bouquet together.

After the dance, favors were offered up to the participants. A glittering heart carved from crystal for the girls. And a gleaming silver flask for the men.

There were only several dances left after that one. And at the end of the ball, in the rush to the cloakroom, I forgot to reclaim my card from Katherine. But she caught me in the crowd and gave it to me. And so I left that night, holding on to a hundreddollar card, a heart made from crystal, and a fast-fading cluster of flowers.

When I reached the sanctity of my room, I put the card away in the drawer of my desk. I was exhausted. Franklin, Franklin, and more Franklin. Aunt was ecstatic, Father was pleased. I was miserable. And if I thought ahead to year after year of unalleviated, unrelieved exposure to Franklin … it made me want to run away.

I tossed the crystal heart onto my chest of drawers and then I took that spent bouquet of pansies and pressed them between the leaves of my Byron.

Father was absorbed by his newspaper Monday morning at breakfast. We heard nothing from him until he emerged, red-faced, from behind the broadsheet. “He’s decided to take on Tammany Hall!”

Aunt started, dropping her piece of toast. “Who? What?”

“The fool reverend at Madison Square Presbyterian. Preached a whole sermon about corruption and politics. And then a reporter had to go and write it up. As if no one knew anything at all about how the city operates! You give a little to get … quite a lot.”

“Please, Brother. Not at the table.”