The Luxe (17 page)

“S
O 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.

“Will Mr. Schoonmaker be escorting you this evening?” Lina asked as she threaded Elizabeth’s corset strings through its last grommet holes.

“We are meeting at the hotel, as Henry has been caught up on the
Elysian,
” Elizabeth answered automatically. The sloppily written note had arrived an hour ago, delivered by a servant who had had to row to shore on a dinghy, through the chaos currently thronging the East River. Although she had known from her mother’s face that she was supposed to be upset by this setback, she had had trouble having any feeling about it at all. “That’s what the Schoonmaker yacht is called,” she added, in the same bland tone. “It was in the water parade for Admiral Dewey.”

“Oh.” Lina gave a final, cinching pull, which caused a sharp pain in Elizabeth’s torso. As she stood in front of the
mirror, waiting for Lina to begin putting on her dress, a cheer went up from the street. Even in the usually quiet blocks around the park, the sounds of a city in mass celebration were rising up with the evening air. There were the distant fireworks and shouts from revelers on nearby Broadway, the clopping of horse-drawn traffic, and everywhere the footfalls of soldiers in large groups. To Elizabeth, every disturbance sounded like the departure of a train.

“Just the soldiers, miss,” Lina said as she returned with the dress. There was something about Lina’s prying kindness that irked Elizabeth.

“When did you get so chatty?” she muttered.

“Pardon, I just—”

“I’m sorry, Lina,” Elizabeth said quickly. She tried to smile a little bit at her maid, and reminded herself that Lina had once been close with Will, too. She must still feel some affection for him now. Elizabeth recalled the awkward, adoring way that Lina had always acted around Will, back when they were all friends, a little trio, in the days before everything became complicated, in the days before Elizabeth realized how deep her feelings for Will went. It occurred to her suddenly that Lina might already know that he was gone—that she, too, might be saddened by his absence. “That was a cruel thing for me to say, and I didn’t mean it. I guess I must be a little nervous about coming out with Henry.”

Lina made a little bowing motion with her head, and then returned to her usual surly silence as she helped Elizabeth into the dress. It fit perfectly, the dramatic pearl-embellished neckline highlighting her small waist. As Lina secured it on her, Elizabeth couldn’t help but think that if she had been braver, if she had done what Will asked her to, she would never have worn dresses like this again. For a moment she hated silk and pearls and gold detail, and even herself, for being bought so easily. Of course, the reasons for accepting Henry’s proposal were many and varied, but at that self-loathing moment it seemed to her that she had allowed herself to be bought for the price of one custom-made gown. She would have burst into tears, but she couldn’t in front of Lina, who was slipping on Elizabeth’s high-heeled slippers.

“Are you ready?” Diana stepped through the mahogany doorframe. She was wearing a simpler dress than Elizabeth’s, with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline and a big lavender skirt that swayed behind her. A wide black sash marked her little waist, and it made her look much less sloppy than usual. Elizabeth knew that it had been remade from an old dress—the Holland family could barely afford one new frock—but she looked bright and pretty, and Elizabeth found some small amount of joy in this. At least one of them might yet be happy.

“Yes, almost.” Elizabeth managed to stand despite her
body being so heavy with regret. She checked her bangs in the mirror and then tried to smile as she took her little sister’s arm and accompanied her through the halls to the first floor. She would have thanked Lina, or acknowledged her in some way, but her thoughts were so focused on Will’s leaving that she could not think of the words.

When the sisters arrived in the foyer, they saw their mother waiting for them. She was wearing her widow’s black, and she looked relieved by the handsome appearance of her two daughters. Even Diana’s warm cheeks were full of some kind of happy anticipation, and Elizabeth wondered at herself for being so miserable when she was doing something that brought her family such relief. She managed a nod, doing her best to seem in a normal state of mind as well, and then Mrs. Faber appeared to help them into their evening wraps.

When they were properly attired for the evening, they turned and made their slow way out the great oak door. Elizabeth’s throat was tight and she looked out at the street, with all its commotion, and felt overwhelmed and scattered. Then her eyes fell on the Holland brougham, hitched to the Hollands’ four black horses. She saw the figure in the driver’s seat and blinked twice to be sure.

There was Will, right there before her. He did not look happy—how could he be?—but neither did he look sad or anxious. He looked calm, and his pale blue eyes were fixed on
Elizabeth in so casual a way that she was sure she began to blush. She thought she might float away with joy.

There was a long moment when she forgot what she was supposed to do that night. Her mother and sister did not seem to have noticed that Elizabeth had stopped in her tracks. They were moving forward, descending the seven brownstone steps and waiting for Will to help them up into the carriage. She took a step toward the carriage, wishing she could touch him, just to be sure she wasn’t imagining his presence.

He was wearing a short wool jacket with the collar turned up, black trousers over the usual scuffed brown boots, and a derby, which was something he only ever did at night. Although he didn’t look at her as he helped her up, she could feel his hands on her waist, and was comforted by his familiar touch. Then she was inside the carriage and the horses were pulling them in the direction of the Waldorf.

“There’s a smile,” her mother said.

“Oh.” Elizabeth instinctively put her fingers to her cheeks. “I’m just relieved is all. Relieved we’re on our way.”

“Yes. It’s a shame, of course, that Henry is meeting you there, and not at our house—”

Elizabeth could not help but continue smiling dumbly, no matter what her mother was saying. She felt as light as air, flying forward through the city, with just a touch of the frenzy reaching her through the windows of the carriage.

“But it is just as well, I suppose. The important thing is that you enter the ballroom together.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said brightly. She would have replied brightly to almost anything her mother said right then. Will had not left her. He would come to understand that she was doing what she had to for her family. They could never be together exactly, but they would never be so very far apart, either. She would find a way to see him whenever she could, and maybe he could learn to love her even when she was a Mrs. Schoonmaker.

Despite the heavy traffic of the evening, they soon arrived at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-fourth. Elizabeth continued smiling, and waited for Will to come around and open the door. Outside, all of New York seemed to be on the streets, clamoring in the direction of the Waldorf-Astoria. The hotel rose fifteen or so stories into the sky and winked from every turret and gable, from each of the countless windows ablaze in the night. Carriages crowded the street down the whole block.

After her mother and sister had alighted, Elizabeth took Will’s hand and let him help her down. When her feet touched the ground, she loosened her grip, but he did not. He held on tight, and as she turned, she saw him bend and kiss her hand. The warmth of his lips spread through her whole body. Will raised his eyes to hers. She looked into them, that light, de
termined color, at his beautifully crooked nose, and below that at the full lips that she had kissed so many times. They were mouthing something, she realized. Will was silently telling her, in front of the Waldorf-Astoria and everybody, that he loved her.

“Will,” Mrs. Holland barked. Elizabeth, petrified, drew back her hand. Then she heard with relief her mother’s run-of-the-mill instructions—Will was to bring the horses back now, as the Schoonmakers were providing their return transportation—and knew that his dangerous gesture had not been seen. She felt emboldened enough to give him a shy smile, to tell him in her own subtle way how relieved she was that he had stayed. Then she turned and followed her family into the hotel.

“Isn’t the weather perfection?” Elizabeth turned to see a corpulent woman in a dress of heavy gold brocade. She didn’t recognize her, and decided she must have been one of those mining millionaires from out West who seemed to arrive in New York in greater numbers every day. “Dewey weather, that’s what I call it,” the woman added with an apple-cheeked smile.

“Yes, it is very nice.” Elizabeth realized only after she had spoken how pleasant the air really was—moist and just cool enough. For the first time all week, she felt like she was going to be all right. “Have a good evening!” she called to the
woman as Diana took her hand and pulled her into the grand and glittering lobby.

They were moving quickly down a long corridor with walls covered by amber marble and mirrors and a mosaic floor. Party-hoppers lounged on the plush velvet chairs that lined the walls, laughing and shouting and people-watching. The place was full of movement, and Elizabeth began to see why the papers referred to it as Peacock Alley.

“He’s not here,” Mrs. Holland announced hotly.

“Who?” Elizabeth said. She could see that her mother was irritated, but she could not stop smiling yet. She was still too caught up in happy thoughts about Will.

“Well, Henry, of course. They are all saying he is still on the yacht.” Elizabeth watched as her mother crossed her arms. She seemed almost to be huffing, so distraught was she by the loss of this public demonstration of her daughter’s engagement.

Penelope came up behind her, then, looking beautiful in her persimmon-colored dress with the low neck and shimmering beaded detail. The dress hugged her hips and fishtailed at the back, and her skin glowed in a very particular way. “Yes, some of the guests from the
Elysian
have already returned to shore,” she reported. “And it seems Henry got caught up.”

“Oh well,” Elizabeth said gaily. “He will be here soon enough. It’s no reason not to enjoy the party.” She reached
for Penelope’s hand and gave her friend a warm kiss on either cheek. It was good to have Penelope back—she had the kind of spirit that would not suffer when there was a party to go to.

Mrs. Holland turned sharply and headed toward the enormous ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria. Elizabeth looked at the bright faces of her friend and sister, and shrugged. “Somebody should tell Mother that
she’s
not marrying Henry Schoonmaker.”

Penelope laughed, and Diana giggled, and then the three girls linked arms and walked into that glittering grand fete, as happy together as they would ever be.

S
ITTING IN THE BALLROOM OF THE WALDORF-ASTORIA
hotel felt to Diana like being buried in the most heavily ornamented mausoleum ever constructed. The walls and ceilings and even the floors seemed to glow a divine shade of yellow, as the profusion of mirrors reflected every bright thing in the room. Light blazed down from the forty-foot ceilings, casting the faces of the guests in warm, sparkling light. There were all the usual people—the sons and daughters of old New York families mixing with the new millionaires, in black tails and skirts of tulle and spangled satin—and the naval men, with their epaulettes and swords, too. With every passing day, Diana thought, she was seeing more of the world.

“Did you see Agnes?” Penelope was saying to Elizabeth now. The three girls were sitting on one of the plush sofas that lined the walls, fanning themselves with real lace fans and resting between dance partners. Their skirts—lavender, pink, and red—spilled across the floor. Every time the door opened from the hall, they looked to see if it was Henry who was com
ing in, but none of them seemed particularly bothered that it never was. Diana had been able to think of nothing else since receiving his note yesterday afternoon, of course, but Henry’s arrival would only mean watching him dance with her sister for hours on end.

“Agnes really is in dire need of a new dress,” Elizabeth replied in a low voice, bringing Diana back from her thoughts of Henry.

“And dancing with a soldier! She would make a good soldier’s wife, I suppose.”

“Oh, hush…let’s not be mean.” Elizabeth’s voice fell to a whisper. She was embarrassed, but Diana could hear the amusement in her voice, too. Sometimes it seemed like her sister had two personalities, warring with each other over whether to be cunning or good.

“I would marry a soldier,” Diana put in merrily. The words immediately produced an image in her mind of Henry in uniform, looking very straight and clean and handsome.

“Then I could go anywhere in the world.”

“But Di, you already
can
go anywhere in the world,” Penelope said.

Diana remembered her comment of the other day, about Newport and New York and not needing anyplace else, and decided that Penelope’s idea of what constituted the world was very far from her own. She kept her mouth shut and
leaned back into the overstuffed velvet cushions of the sofa. In front of them couples moved across the shiny floor, keeping one eye on their partners and the other on the constant ebb and flow of guests.

“Did you see your neighbor Brody Fish?” Penelope went on, above the din. “He’s gotten better-looking, I think.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “There’s something broader about the shoulders with him, isn’t there?”

“Well, someday, when you’re a matron and very bored by everything, perhaps you can have a little fling on the side with him.”

Elizabeth put her gloved hands over her pink cheeks. This was the response Diana would have expected of her sister, of course—prudish and proudly shocked—but she couldn’t help but pity her for the deepening red shade of her face. Diana reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “Liz, we all know how very, very moral you are, and we don’t think any less of you because you think Brody Parker Fish has nice shoulders.” She paused and looked out at all the men, young and old, in their tailored suits, and thought how merely adequate they all looked compared to the boy in her thoughts. “
I
think so, too,” Diana offered.

“It’s just that I would never…” Elizabeth trailed off, before changing the subject. “What do you think our mothers are talking about?”

The three girls turned and saw the dour faces of Mrs. Holland and Mrs. Hayes. They were seated across the room, on a golden crushed-velvet couch of their own, watching the crowd and leaning back occasionally to whisper to each other. Diana could remember a time when her mother wouldn’t so much as call on Mrs. Hayes, despite her husband’s entirely neutral feelings for Penelope’s father, but those days were past, apparently. Even their mother could not afford to be snotty anymore, Diana thought happily, as a group of dancers waltzed in front of the older women.

“The Misses Holland, Miss Hayes…” Diana looked up to see Teddy Cutting, in black pants and tails, making a little bow. His blond hair was slicked to the side, and there was a touch of sunburn on his nose.

“Teddy,” Elizabeth said warmly.

“Hello, Mr. Cutting.” Penelope gave him a remote smile.

Teddy went down the line kissing each of the girls’ hands. Diana looked past him, through the scrum of bodies. Her mother had bade farewell to Mrs. Hayes and was moving along the wall with her chin raised. Diana was watching to see whom she was walking toward when she heard their male visitor say, “I’ll be wanting to dance with all of you, of course. But perhaps tonight, if you’ll allow me, I will begin with the youngest. Diana, may I?”

Diana looked up, startled. Though Teddy was one of her sister’s friends, and so generally around, he had always seemed too taken with Elizabeth to notice her existence. It felt somehow odd that he was smiling at her now and offering his hand. She took it, noting out of the corner of her eye that her mother was now speaking with a large, familiar-looking man.

“No sign of Henry?” Teddy asked as they moved onto the dance floor. Diana tried not to smile at the mere mention of the name, but then she noticed that Teddy was looking back in the direction of Elizabeth and Penelope, anyway. She suddenly wondered if there wasn’t a reason he was asking her in particular. Perhaps Henry had even mentioned her name. Everyone knew that he had been friends with Teddy since forever, after all, and it seemed likely that if he were going to talk about her with anybody, it would be with the man she was dancing with right now.

“Not a one.”

Teddy’s hands were barely touching her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he might somehow think of her as Henry’s girl. Teddy might even like that—then he might still have a chance with Elizabeth, whom he had always obviously desired.

Diana tried to concentrate on her steps—she was not so polished a dancer as her sister, but she seemed to be following along well enough. As they moved, she got a better view of her mother and realized that it was William Schoonmaker
to whom she was talking. He was bowing his head in a confidential way, but his face had taken on a hue that suggested some sort of rage. She was wondering what it must be like for Henry, to have a father like that, when Teddy spoke again.

“Elizabeth seems all right, though.”

“Oh.” Diana paused and tried not to give Teddy a pitying look, though it was sort of pathetic how enamored of her sister he remained. They turned and then Diana could see, over Teddy’s shoulder, that Elizabeth’s face was lit up with laughter. She and Penelope were holding hands and shielding their open mouths with their lace fans. “Yes, actually,” she said. “She seems entirely happier not to have Henry around.”

She had meant it as a joke, and Teddy laughed. But as soon as the words escaped her mouth, she realized they were true. How curious, she thought, peeking back at her sister, that the perfect girl with the perfect-catch fiancé was relieved not to be with him.

“We were on the yacht together this afternoon. I should have made him come with me,” Teddy was saying. “When I left, Henry was still there with that Buck fellow—who is apparently now one of the groomsmen.” Teddy shook his head in disbelief. “And Buck assured me he would see to it that Henry arrived here on time. But now I see he hasn’t.”

Diana looked at her partner, whose concerned features were flattered by the golden light, and wondered why he was
so worried about his friend, anyway. Certainly Henry could take care of himself. They had done a turn around the floor, and she could again see Henry’s father over the black coat-covered shoulders of the men and the elaborate hairpieces of the ladies.

“Well, I see someone who isn’t so pleased with his not being here on time,” she said, jutting her chin in the direction of her mother and Mr. Schoonmaker, who was still speaking into her mother’s ear and gesticulating with his hands. He seemed to be demonstrating some plan with the movements of his broad fists. Teddy looked and shook his head sadly.

“I wouldn’t want to say anything bad about Buck, but he seemed intent on making us all have
too
good a time.” Teddy exhaled audibly, and as they stepped lightly around, he looked out of the corner of his eye at Elizabeth again. “And by us, I mean Henry.”

Diana found herself involuntarily smiling again at the mention of Henry’s name. Teddy was saying it an awful lot, which seemed like more evidence that he might know of their flirtation. The music swelled and then all of a sudden stopped. She and Teddy came to a halt and turned toward the door along with the rest of the guests in the crowded room. Loud cheers of “Bravo!” suddenly erupted into the cavernous space.

Diana stood on her toes and peeked around the bodies in front of her until she got a glimpse of the man who had just
entered. He was of average height and had a drooping gray mustache, and wore a handsome dark blue uniform with tassels and gigantic brass buttons, and a long, slender sword attached to his belt. He raised his hand and smiled at the shouts of “Admiral” and “Hooray!”

“So that is the hero of the Pacific?” Teddy said as he joined in the clapping. Several of the guests in front of them had taken out small American flags and were waving them about in the air.

Diana began to clap, too. The whole crowd was on its feet, applauding the admiral of the Navy. William Schoonmaker nodded to her mother and then moved to a spot just behind and to the right of the admiral. The color of his face had not mellowed, but he did smile as he began waving at the crowd, as though he, too, were some sort of military hero.

Diana smiled as well, but not because she was in the presence of military greatness. She smiled because the man who had just arrived was not Henry. He might have come and danced all night with her sister, but she felt sure, as she threw her hands together and called out in celebration, that he was out in the dark somewhere, thinking of her instead.