The American Heiress (19 page)

‘Certainly I will come and see you in Europe. If nothing else I must deliver your wedding gift. I thought perhaps a bicycle? I know how fond you are of cycling.’ Cora caught his gaze and he knew that she, too, was thinking of that day in Newport when she had fallen off her bicycle. They were both thinking of what might have been. He walked to the door and turned.

‘If you ever need an old friend, I will be there.’ Teddy could not say more. He bowed to Sybil and shook Cora’s outstretched hand and left.

Out in the sunshine he felt foolish. He had wanted to rescue Cora from a ducal cage but it seemed that she was entering it willingly. He had handled things so badly. What Cora wanted, he now realised, was love, and all he had offered her was protection. And now it was too late, the wedding was in less than a week. He must write to her. At least then she would know how he really felt: that he didn’t want to rescue her, he wanted to tear her away.

He walked down Fifth Avenue, his hands in the pockets of his ulster, framing the letter in his head.

He was so preoccupied that he did not notice Mrs Cash’s carriage as it returned to the house. She noticed him, though. She hoped she had not been too confident. Perhaps it would be as well to monitor Cora’s visitors and correspondence until the girl was safely married. Cora was so impulsive and the Duke could be so prickly. If they were to have some ridiculous tiff and Cora were to seek solace with Teddy Van Der Leyden…Mrs Cash shivered. If only the Duke had stayed in New York instead of going on that absurd hunting expedition. It was very strange behaviour so close to the wedding, especially after all the unpleasantness over the marriage settlement. Winthrop had not wanted to tell her all the details but apparently the Duke had been quite put out by the fact that the money had been settled directly on Cora. He said he found the presumption behind it insulting. How could there be separation of property between husband and wife? But Winthrop had been firm, Cora was his only child and he had to protect her interests. Immediately after this conversation, the Duke had announced that he was going hunting. Mrs Cash had expected Cora to object, but her daughter had made no protest. Only the Duchess had remonstrated with her son but without success. Wareham had gone off upstate with his best man Reggie, and his valet, to shoot canvasback duck. It had made the numbers at dinner quite uneven. What a good thing she had seen Teddy leaving the house, she had almost made up her mind to ask him to dinner to amuse poor Lady Sybil. Smiling as she always did at the sight of her tall footmen waiting to hand her out of her carriage – really, they were quite the finest specimens in New York – she began to review her list of amusing bachelors who could be summoned to dinner that night.

Chapter 12

Two Cigarettes

I
N THE SERVANTS’ HALL OF 660 FIFTH, THE
departure of the Duke and the visit of Teddy Van Der Leyden was the subject of much speculation. The butler, who was English, held that the Duke was a sporting gentleman who preferred duck shooting to being put on display in Mrs Cash’s drawing room, but the housekeeper was convinced that he had left in a huff because he wasn’t getting his hands on all of Miss Cora’s money – every detail of the row between the Duke and Mr Cash in Mr Cash’s study having been overheard by the footman. A full report of the row was even now being turned into a spiky little column in
Town Topics
– Colonel Mann the editor had let it be known that he was prepared to pay handsomely for anything to do with the Cash wedding. Indeed, Colonel Mann was probably better informed about the disagreement between Cora’s father and her future husband than Cora herself. Winthrop Cash had no desire to upset his daughter and the Duke did not talk about such things with anyone. He had told her he wanted to get away from ‘all the people gawking at him’ and she, having read that morning’s
Town Topics
which contained a list of all the paintings and fine furniture that the Duke had sold in the past year, could only agree. If she was insulted, she could only imagine how he felt.

The argument swirled on with all parties taking sides. Only Bertha said nothing. This was not unusual. As the only coloured upper servant, her position was a strange one; no one would ask her opinion directly but as Cora’s maid she was privy to all the information they craved. But Bertha was not silent from loyalty to Cora, she simply did not hear the hubbub around her. She was still replaying the scene of the day before yesterday at the New York Customs. Cora had wanted to meet the Duke’s party at the docks and had taken Bertha as companion. Mrs Cash had thought the whole expedition unseemly but she had been unable to deflect her daughter. It had been cold standing in the Customs Hall and Bertha wished that she had a fur stole and muff like her mistress. At last the ducal party could be seen at the far end (the
Berengaria
disembarked its passengers in order of precedence). Cora gave a cry of excitement and started towards the tall figure of the Duke. Bertha knew she should restrain her but she was frozen by the sight of another figure standing a little to the right of the party, carrying a valise. The height and the blond hair reminded her of Jim, he had that same catlike way of walking – and then the man drew closer and his face was lit by a shaft of light from a hole in the roof above. It was Jim. Somehow he was here and he was smiling at her. She wanted to run to him as Cora had done, but of course she had to stand modestly behind her mistress. All she could do was raise one gloved hand in greeting and see Jim wink in return. No one else saw this exchange as everyone was looking at Cora launching herself at the Duke. As she did so, there was a flash and the sharp, dry smell of magnesium in the damp air of the Customs Hall. The photographer for the
Herald
, who was sent to cover all boats arriving from Europe, had got the picture of his career: Miss Cora Cash, radiant in fur, arms outstretched, and the Duke of Wareham standing to attention, his arms raised as if to ward off a blow. It was a trick of the camera, of course; the Duke had raised his arms to embrace Cora by her enormously exaggerated shoulders, but the camera only saw the defensive arms and the look of surprise on the Duke’s face.

To Bertha’s relief, her face was masked by Cora’s furs in the published photograph. Only the raised gloved hand was visible in the corner.

After the commotion in the Customs Hall subsided, Cora leant on the Duke’s arm and shepherded him to her carriage, with the Double Duchess, Reggie and Sybil following in her wake. Bertha hung back to supervise the loading of the luggage on to the wagon. Cora, she knew, would not miss her for hours and there was so much she had to say to Jim. He found her and caught her by the wrist. But she moved away from him, conscious of the witnesses all around them.

‘Pleased to see me?’

Bertha nodded, she could not find the words to describe her feelings. Instead she said, ‘How did you get here?’

‘The Duke needed a valet and when I heard, I left Sir Odious right away and asked him for the job. I told him that I had always wanted to go to America. Course he didn’t know why.’ He looked at Bertha and she knew he wanted to kiss her, but she kept her distance. She was overwhelmed by his presence and what it meant. Jim felt her silence and carried on.

‘Turned out his old valet suffered from seasickness and didn’t want to go abroad, so he took me on right away. Oh Bertha, you should have seen your face when I came through that door. Your mouth was hanging open so wide.’ He smiled at her, gleeful. But Bertha could not smile yet. There was so much to understand.

‘I can’t really believe you’re here.’

‘Didn’t you get my letter?’

‘Why yes, I have it here.’ She patted the bodice of her dress. ‘And the pearl, that’s where I keep precious things. But you never said you were coming over.’ She was half angry with him for not warning her.

‘It was all decided at the last minute. I thought of writing to you but then I knew I was going to be seeing you, so I thought I would surprise you.’ Jim put his hand on hers, right over the spot where the pearl was sewn into her dress. ‘Did I do right then to come?’

Bertha heard the tremor in his voice and realised then that none of this had been easy for him. When she spoke she found herself talking in Cora’s voice.

‘Why, Jim, I couldn’t be happier.’

He looked at her for a moment and then laughed. This was safer territory.

‘The Duke could hardly believe it when she flew at him like that,’ he said.

‘Oh, he’ll have to get used to it. Miss Cora don’t hang back when she wants something.’

After they had gathered together the numerous trunks, hatboxes and valises and had them loaded on to the wagon, Bertha decided to call a hansom. Normally she would have taken a tram, but Jim and she would have to sit separately. This way she would be able to explain what was what before they got back to the house. She was pretty sure that Jim did not understand the way things worked over here.

She was right. As they left the Customs Hall together, Jim’s arm around her waist, there were shouts and catcalls from the porters on the docks. Jim looked puzzled and put out, he was about to respond when Bertha stopped him.

‘Don’t pay them any mind, Jim, they just don’t see many white folks walking around with people like me. They don’t know you’re not American.’

Jim subsided grumbling. This was new territory.

In the hansom, Jim held her hand in his and she found it hard to concentrate on the unpleasant realities they faced. But as the cab crossed Broadway, she pulled herself up and looked at Jim strictly.

‘I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you because I am but things are different here. No one is going to take kindly to us being together. They don’t think it’s right for white and coloured folk to keep company. That’s the way it is. And if the Madam gets to know, I’ll lose my place. She won’t stand for any goings-on in her house.’

Jim smiled at her stern manner. ‘I promise to behave, Miss Bertha.’

She wondered if he really understood. In England they would face dismissal without references if their relationship was discovered. Here in New York a white man could not have a respectable relationship with a coloured woman. It wasn’t illegal to marry as it was in South Carolina, but it never happened. And Bertha was determined to have a respectable relationship.

It had almost been a relief when Jim came to tell her he was leaving town. He said that the Duke had come back to the hotel in a foul temper and had thrown a brush at him when he had put out the wrong waistcoat. He had been surprised, he hadn’t thought the Duke was that kind of gentleman. Then Mr Greatorex had come in and the Duke had started playing the piano, ‘Angry music,’ said Jim. An hour later the Duke had sent for him and told him they were going on a hunting trip, returning the day before the wedding.

Now he was gone Bertha could collect her thoughts. It had been exhausting trying not to look at Jim, even worse showing no reaction when he touched her as he passed her on the stairs or in the corridors. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up. It was lucky that the household was all over the place trying to keep the Madam happy. Bertha’s biggest worry was the maids who had come with the Duchess and Lady Sybil; they had been quite put out when Jim had stayed behind with her at the Customs Hall. On the voyage over they had waited to see which one of them he preferred, so they could not help but notice his interest in her. Now they were constantly running after her, demanding curling papers, pincushions, the best place to procure carmine, all the while trying to find out how exactly she had come to know Mr Harness, the Duke’s valet.

They were looking at her now. One of them was mending a petticoat that Bertha would have discarded long ago as beyond saving. She knew they were talking about her and she felt uncomfortable under their pale stares. She decided to leave them to their gossiping and get on with sorting out Miss Cora’s trousseau.

As she pushed open the door to Cora’s room, she was struck by a blast of cold air. Who had left the windows open? She walked through the sitting room to the bedroom to close the window when she noticed Cora sitting in the twilight, smoking a cigarette. She didn’t know what was more surprising, Cora smoking or that she was alone.

‘Sorry, Miss Cora, I didn’t know you were in here. Shall I close the window? It’s getting pretty cold now. What do you want to wear for dinner tonight? Shall I put out the lilac silk? You haven’t worn that one yet.’

But even the promise of a new dress did not rouse Cora. She inhaled on her cigarette (where had she got them from? wondered Bertha) and blew the smoke out of the window.

Bertha went to the closet to fetch the lilac dress, which smelt of lavender and cedarwood. Every Worth dress had its own pomander, which gave the dresses their own individual perfumes.

‘Oh, leave it, Bertha, I don’t think I will go down tonight. I have a headache.’

‘The Madam won’t like it.’

‘I know, but I can’t face them all tonight.’ She tossed her cigarette out of the window where it fell in a rainbow of tiny sparks. And then she began to speak, looking out of the window, anywhere but at Bertha.

‘I was so sure before…about Ivo. I’ve wanted him to be here so much but since he came to America…he isn’t the same. He used to touch me all the time, I mean he couldn’t stand next to me without putting his hand on my arm or my waist, and if we were ever alone he would kiss me – so much sometimes that I had to make him stop. But since he came he hasn’t touched me once, not properly, not unless it’s expected of him. I’ve tried to get him alone but he is always with somebody, and now he’s been gone for a whole week. Oh Bertha, do you think he’s coming back?’

Bertha looked at Cora’s frowning face and felt a little sorry for her. She was so used to getting her own way and yet she could not control the Duke. But it was not Bertha’s role to sympathise with her – she had her own reasons for wanting Cora married and back in England. ‘I do, Miss Cora. And as for the rest of it, you’ll be on your honeymoon soon and you can be alone all you want.’