Honor (13 page)

Honor tried to hide her anger and failed. “Are you saying that you don’t have faith in my abilities, Robert?”

“I have every faith in you, my darling, but I am also more realistic than you are.” He smiled indulgently. “You’re a dreamer, Honor, not a realist like me. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

She tugged on her locket. “This revelation quite stuns me. I never knew you considered me an unrealistic dreamer.”

“You are level-headed about the law. But I think you won’t face the realities of being able to practice it. You’ve been so sheltered you think you can do anything.”

“That’s not true!”

He came over to her and put a placating hand on her shoulder. “If you want something to do, you can do legal research for me.”

“I don’t want ‘something to do.’ I want to practice law.”

His hand fell away. “I was only trying to help.” He returned to the sofa and his newspaper. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I’m giving you my honest opinion. Husbands and wives should be honest with each other.”

She thought of Priscilla Shanks, but held her tongue. “Are you forbidding me to open my own practice?”

Robert looked up at her over his newspaper. “Of course not. I’m merely asking you to be prudent.”

Honor turned and walked away, feeling for the first time in her marriage that she was truly alone.

We’ve had our first marital spat, Honor thought.

She took her cup of tea that Tilly, their live-in maid-cook, had made for her and sought refuge in the apartment’s library, a small room about half the size of the one in Aunt Theo’s house, with a wall of empty shelves waiting to be filled with books when they could afford them. She closed the door behind her with a dismal sigh and sat down in the room’s most comfortable chair, but her anger followed her like a dark, malevolent specter.

Robert’s betrayal gnawed at her. She especially resented his depiction of her as a spoiled, sheltered little rich girl.

But aren’t you? a little voice whispered.

Her aunt had sheltered her with love, money, and influence. No matter who put ink on her chair, no matter how many men closed ranks and doors against her, she knew she could always return to the loving, sheltering embrace of her aunt.

Yet Robert’s assumption that her private practice would fail still rankled. She knew she could be just as good a lawyer as any man in this city. All she needed was a chance to prove herself.

“Are you still angry with me?” Robert asked softly from the doorway of their bedroom.

Honor, seated at her dressing table and searching for premature white hairs, didn’t know the answer. She had avoided him for the rest of the afternoon, until he finally went out somewhere and left her and Tilly alone. When he returned for supper, they had sat at opposite ends of the long oak table and eaten in an icy silence that settled between them like a thick, impenetrable fog. Neither of them had spoken for the duration of the meal. Honor had returned to the library to read, then decided to retire early.

She turned and faced him. “I don’t want to be angry, but you said some very hurtful things to me this afternoon.”

“I was only being honest.” He looked at her. “All husbands and wives get angry with each other now and then. But it passes. If you’re going to hold this against me forever, I’ll sleep in the library.”

Suddenly the coldness, the silence, the awkwardness between them seemed so pointless. “No, I’m not angry with you anymore.”

“I knew you couldn’t be.” He crossed the room to her dressing table, drew her to her feet, and took her in his arms.

The touch of his lips against hers melted away the last vestiges of anger and hurt, and she slid her arms around his waist to draw him into her forgiving embrace.

When they parted, he murmured, “I want to make love to you.” That was as close to an apology as such a proud man would ever come.

Honor kissed him again. “Then why don’t you undress while I get ready?” She went to the bathroom to take her usual precautions, and when she returned, she turned off the gaslight and slipped into bed beside her waiting husband. When she tried to touch him, he stayed her hand, as always.

Why should she complain that he never allowed her to love him in return? He always satisfied her, and he derived great pleasure from her ecstasy. So she let him burn away her anger in the fires of passion.

Late that night the dream came to her.

As always she stood in the prison yard with the scaffold in the center and black chessmen scattered in the snow. Again she watched her father walk inexorably to his doom. Again she placed the noose around his neck. Again she awoke gasping and bathed in cold sweat.

Sitting up in the darkness with her knees drawn up to her chest while her husband slept on, blissfully unaware, Honor knew what she had to do. Hadn’t Aunt Theo said all wives kept secrets from their husbands?

The next day Honor told Robert that she was going to down to the Criminal Courts Building to observe. In reality she went in search of an office.

Robert was unimpressed with the office Honor rented three weeks later, two small rooms above a photography studio on bustling Broadway, but when she stood in the outer office where her stenographer would one day work and looked into her own larger room with its desk, and with her diploma hanging on the wall, she swelled with satisfaction and pride.

Now all she needed was a client.

She was still waiting for them a month later.

Standing at her office window and watching scurrying pedestrians bob and weave in the cold, steady October rain, she heard a familiar, British-accented voice say, “Are you in your lair, you lovely creature?”

“Waiting to lure unsuspecting photographers to their doom, John,” she replied, turning around to find her downstairs neighbor standing in the doorway of her office. “What can I do for you on this dreary day?”

He grinned. “I think I’ve found you your first client.”

Honor’s eyes widened. “You have? Who?”

John Townsend’s august clientele consisted of society women and theater people, and he had promised Honor that he would recommend her legal services.

“Come downstairs to my studio with me.”

All Honor saw in John’s studio was a tall, swarthy man with a muscular barrel chest, and arms and thighs as thick as tree trunks, clad only in a leopard-skin tunic that barely covered his privates. Honor turned red with embarrassment.

“Honor Davis,” John said with a flourish, “may I present Man Mountain Mountford, the Strongest Man in the World, the current attraction at the Hippodrome.”

Honor extended her hand. “How do you do, Mr., er, Mountford. I’ve seen your playbills. They don’t do you justice.”

He beamed and held her hand with surprising gentleness for so large and muscular a man. “How do you do, Mrs. Davis? Call me Fred.” His voice was soft, and his speech was polished. “Townsend here tells me that you’re a lawyer.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m due to sign a new contract, but there are some things management wants me to do that I don’t. I need a lawyer to read it for me and make sure I’m not cheated.” He looked at her out of shrewd eyes. “Townsend says you’re good.”

“One of the best,” Honor replied. In law school, she amended silently and crossed her fingers.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re too damn pretty to be a lawyer.”

“That gives me an advantage, Fred. My opponents tend to underestimate me. By the time they discover how tough I really am, it’s too late.”

Fred grinned. “We circus folks don’t care what you are as long as you can do the job. Townsend here says you don’t charge much.”

Honor sensed that the price of her services was a prime consideration. “No, I don’t.”

He grinned. “Good. I’ll bring my contract over tomorrow morning.”

Honor shook his hand again and left him flexing his muscles for Townsend’s camera.

When she went back upstairs and entered her outer office, she was startled to see a woman standing at the window, her back to the door. “May I help you?”

The woman turned around. “I hope so, sweet Portia.”

“Aunt Theo!” Honor shrieked, flinging herself into her smiling aunt’s outstretched arms and hugging her. “It’s so good to see you!” She stepped back. “Whatever are you doing here in New York? How did you find my office?”

Theo paced around the room, as restless as ever. “I stopped at your apartment, and your maid gave me the address.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I just arrived yesterday, and I’m staying at the Waldorf.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She stopped her energetic pacing. “My main reasons for coming are to go shopping and to tell you that I am going to Italy for the winter.”

Honor rocked back on her heels. “Italy? Why for the entire winter?”

Her aunt’s black eyes became unnaturally bright. “I can’t bear Boston and have to get away for a while.” She looked away. “You see, I’ve ended my affair with Wes.”

Honor grew very still, and she moistened her dry lips. “Oh, Aunt Theo… I—I don’t know what to say.”

Theo managed a brave smile and began pacing the office again like a caged lioness. “It’s for the best. Marriage between us would have been a disaster. He’s so young and has his whole life ahead of him. If he stayed with me, he’d be living my life instead of his own. It just wouldn’t be fair.”

“He’s never cared about that. He loves you. He must be devastated.”

Unwitting tears sprang to Theo’s eyes. “We had such a frightful argument.” She sighed. “In any case, he’s going to marry Selena Cabot in the spring, and you and I have happier things to talk about.” She dried her eyes. “How is married life?”

“Just wonderful,” Honor replied. As badly as she wanted to discuss Robert’s sudden lack of faith in her professional abilities, Honor couldn’t send her aunt off to Italy with another burden on her shoulders. Though Theo tried to pretend that she didn’t care about breaking off with her young lover, Honor could almost see the gash in her aunt’s heart.

Theo smiled wanly. “I’m delighted to hear it.”

“You’ll have to come to dinner every night while you’re here. I’m sure Robert will want to see you, though he often works late.”

“I’d like that.”

Honor said, “If you don’t mind braving the rain, there’s a delightful little shop called Maillard’s where we can have tea and ice cream.”

“I do adore ice cream.” Her strained voice belied her enthusiasm, and her eyes had lost their sparkle.

Honor decided she would put it back. Drawing her aunt’s arm through her own and leading her out of the office, she said, “Let me tell you all about my first client, Aunt Theo. His name is Man Mountain Mountford, the Strongest Man in the World…”

Robert laughed when Honor told him about Man Mountain Mountford, but not in Theo’s presence, so she enjoyed her stay in New York City and left for Italy under the illusion that her niece’s marriage was perfect.

Laugh as Robert might at the circus strongman, Mountford became a satisfied client who paid his bills on time and recommended Honor to his fellow performers, and throughout the winter her reputation as a tough contract negotiator grew throughout the Broadway theater district.

Then, in April of 1896, Honor met a woman who was to change her life.

Chapter Eight

“He broke my heart.”

Honor looked up at the dejected, weeping young woman seated across from her desk. With her golden hair, desolate green eyes, and a lovely, malleable face quick to reveal soulful despair, Lillie Troy would have a judge and jury eating out of her hand when she told them her heart-wrenching tale of true love betrayed. After all, she was an actress destined for greatness if only some enterprising theater manager could see beyond her series of minor roles on the Broadway stage and give her a break.

Honor said, “Mr. LaRouche also violated an unwritten contract, Miss Troy. He once promised to marry you, and now he has reneged on that promise. He’s broken the law and caused you much mental anguish. You are entitled to receive monetary compensation for alienation of affection.”

Lillie dabbed at the corner of her right eye with her monogrammed handkerchief. “No amount of money can repay me for the loss of my Nevada.”

“Nevada…what an unusual name.”

“He was born there. He used to be a cowboy.”

Honor raised a skeptical brow at this bit of information.

“He seldom spoke to me of his youth out west, but that was before he came to New York with his friend and business partner, Damon Delancy. Have you heard what happened to the Delancys?” When Honor shook her head, Lillie leaned forward and lowered her voice as if she feared being overheard. “It was quite a scandal. Damon Delancy was married to this lady doctor who was arrested. Rather than risk having her go to prison, he spirited her and their baby boy away to England.” Lillie sighed. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“Breaking the law is not romantic, Miss Troy,” Honor said, for she had no patience with lawbreakers. “It catches up with you sooner or later.”