The American Heiress (20 page)

‘Yes, but that’s what I’m scared of. Suppose we don’t like each other? Suppose everything that happened before was a mistake? Teddy came here this morning and offered to take me away and the awful thing is that for a moment I was tempted. Teddy loves me, I can see it in his face, but when I look at Ivo I don’t know what he feels.’

Bertha knew to say nothing.

‘At Lulworth it was all so easy, we understood each other. But it is all so different here. Everyone thinks he is marrying me for my money, even his mother. But I know he liked me first. I know he did.’

Cora’s voice was not as certain as her words. Bertha again remained silent. She wondered if Cora knew about the row over her marriage settlement.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Cora, every bride has doubts before the wedding. It’s only natural. Why don’t you let me bathe your head in eau de cologne and then you can get dressed and go down for dinner. You don’t want all those English ladies to be asking where you’ve got to.’

‘Oh Lord, Sybil came in while I was with Teddy this morning. I’d better go down and be cheerful, otherwise she might say something in front of Mother. Poor girl, I had to lend her two dinner dresses. I don’t understand why the Duchess doesn’t get her some nice things.’

The lamentable state of the English girl’s wardrobe seemed to cheer Cora. Bertha hustled her into the lilac dress. Once she was downstairs being admired and fussed over, her mistress, she knew, would start to feel much better. To distract her while she did her hair, Bertha told Cora about the English lady’s maids and their superior ways. Cora was laughing as Bertha described their attempts to conceal their amazement at the size and splendour of Cora’s trousseau. They had looked down their noses and wondered aloud if there were any dresses left in Paris.

‘Oh, they was actin’ like it was nothin’ but I saw them put out their hands to touch your furs. They ain’t seen anything so fine. I made out I didn’t notice but I could see ’em swallowin’ their envy. I hope you don’ mind me showing ’em all the clothes and stuff, Miss Cora, but it gave me no end of satisfaction.’

‘I don’t mind, Bertha. I’d like to do the same with the Duchess, except she would think it vulgar.’

The dinner gong rang and Cora went downstairs. Bertha sprayed cologne in Cora’s bedroom to mask the smell of the cigarette. Mrs Cash often came in to say goodnight and she would make an almighty row if she thought Cora had been smoking. Bertha was just about to go to her dinner in the servants’ quarters when Mrs Cash stopped her at the door of Cora’s room.

‘Bertha, a word.’ Mrs Cash was at her most stately.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Bertha curtsied, praying her legs wouldn’t wobble. She could only hope that all the smoke had gone.

‘You don’t need me to remind you how unusual it is for a girl of your type to be working as a lady’s maid. The money you send home must mean a great deal to your mother.’

Bertha looked at the floor. She had not heard from her mother since coming back from England.

‘You have worked hard and I know that Cora has great confidence in you. Indeed, she confides in you in a way that is perhaps not entirely fitting but because we have given you so much, I know you will always be discreet. That is why I chose you instead of a professional lady’s maid. I knew you would soon pick up your duties, but the habit of loyalty cannot be bought.’

Bertha curtsied again. What was the Madam up to?

‘Tell me, did Cora seem distressed today? Does she seem unsettled in any way?’

‘No, ma’am, just nervous about the wedding, as is only natural for a bride.’

‘Yes indeed, her whole life is about to change. By this time on Thursday she will be a duchess.’

And by this time on Thursday you will be the mother of a duchess, thought Bertha. She realised that Mrs Cash was as nervous about the wedding as her daughter.

‘It would be quite dreadful if anything were to happen to prevent that. So, Bertha, I am asking you to be especially vigilant. If any letters come for Cora, I want you to bring them straight to me so I may judge their suitability. I don’t want anyone or anything to upset her at this delicate time in her life. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good. And Bertha, I don’t need to tell you not to speak to Cora about this. I don’t want her to be…distracted.’

Bertha nodded.

When Mrs Cash had left, Bertha went into the bedroom and looked until she found the cigarettes. She lit one, and stood as Cora had done, blowing the smoke into the street below.

Next morning, a note was brought up to Cora’s bedroom by a footman. Bertha put it in her pocket and left it there.

Chapter 13

The Coiled Serpent

‘R
EALLY, I DON’T UNDERSTAND ALL THIS
excitement.’ Duchess Fanny tapped the wooden pew for emphasis. ‘I’ve had two weddings and never felt any need to rehearse. All you have to remember is not to gallop up the aisle, so people have time to admire your dress, and to speak your vows clearly. Hardly taxing for a girl of your intelligence, Cora. And as for your bridesmaids, Sybil has done this many times before, she can lead the way. If you really want to practise, why don’t you walk up and down a few times now, to get the timing of the thing. But not too much, you don’t want to appear drilled.’ The Duchess smiled at the assembled company, her pale blue eyes candid with the air of someone who has found the missing key that the whole household has been searching for. Her audience, however, did not share her conviction. When Mrs Cash at last found her voice, it was tight with suppressed emotion.

‘I have not had the experience of an English wedding, Duchess, perhaps they are simpler affairs. Here it is customary to rehearse with all the members of the wedding, including the groom.’ Mrs Cash was trying to control her irritation but without much success. She looked up at the great stained-glass window over the altar for inspiration. She had gazed at this window at so many society weddings in the past, imagining the moment when it would be Cora at the altar, that she knew every detail. There had never been any question about which church to use. All the smartest weddings were here at Trinity. There were airier, more spacious churches further uptown, but Mrs Cash had never even considered them. Trinity was the church used by the Astors, the Rhinebackers, the Schoonmakers and the rest of Old New York. Although Mrs Cash was pleased to think that none of them had ever seen the church looking so splendid.

Built of native granite, the building could be a little gloomy but the great arches of ivy and jasmine that hung over the congregation, echoing the stone vaulting above, made the stern church feel almost boudoir-like. She was particularly pleased with the cloth-of-gold carpet that she had had laid from the altar all the way down the nave. It was embroidered here and there with the bridal couple’s monograms in silver. Even the Duchess, who had deemed the church quite ‘forbidding’ from the outside, had gasped at that. Mrs Cash glanced over to where the Duchess was seated under an enormous floral representation of the Maltravers coat of arms on the groom’s side of the church, looking completely unconcerned by her son’s absence, and felt the scar tissue on the left side of her face begin to ache.

When the Duke and his party had arrived in the country, she had given them itineraries that had made it absolutely clear that the rehearsal was a formal event. It was bad enough that he had missed nearly all of the dinners she had arranged to introduce him to New York society, but for the groom and the best man to miss the rehearsal, that really was too much. The bishop was there, the bridesmaids and ushers, even the editor of
Vogue
; only the groom was missing. And the Duchess, who really should know better, was acting as if this was some tiresome piece of American nonsense. Duchess Fanny took no notice of the stiffness in Mrs Cash’s reply and continued regardless. ‘Ivo would be mortified to think that you were all here waiting for him.’ She lingered on the word mortified, somehow implying that Ivo would be quite the opposite. ‘I’m sure he had no idea that this was such an event. He probably thought it was a women’s affair.’

Nobody spoke.

The Duchess looked up at her future daughter-in-law, who was standing at the altar steps next to her father. ‘Don’t worry, Cora. I’m sure he will remember to turn up tomorrow.’ She gave her most adorable smile.

Cora tried to smile back. Her cheeks ached as she tried to match the Duchess’s breeziness, even though she could feel her eyes stinging. Suppose Ivo really had changed his mind? But she forced herself to sound as if, like the Duchess, she found his absence simply amusing.

‘Oh, I hope so, Duchess. It would be so tiresome to return all the wedding gifts, and to waste all these flowers would be criminal.’ She gestured at the banks of orchids, the tuberose garlands and the columns of myrtle and jasmine. The air inside the church was so thick with floral scent that Cora felt as if she could fall back and be supported by the fragrant undercurrents.

The Duchess looked at her with something like approval. If only the mother would stop making such a fuss. She decided to bring the proceedings to a close.

‘When I see Ivo I will scold him roundly for being so inconsiderate, but for my part I am delighted to have had the chance to admire this church and the magnificent floral arrangements at my leisure. I don’t think I have ever seen such a profusion of flowers or such tasteful arrangements. Reassure me, Mrs Cash, that this is an exceptional display even by New York standards. Our poor London posies feel quite primitive by comparison.’

Mrs Cash was somewhat mollified by this overture. It was the first time that the Duchess had admitted that anything in America was superior to its British equivalent. She was about to speak when her husband forestalled her. Standing at Cora’s side, he had noticed the tears in his daughter’s eyes.

‘Well, as we have now been here for the best part of two hours, I think the ladies should conserve their strength for tomorrow. I expect Wareham to come back with a mountain lion at the very least. Duchess, would you allow me to escort you to the carriage?’

The Duchess lowered her eyelashes at him. Really, Cora’s father was quite gentlemanly for an American. She placed her kid-gloved hand on his proffered arm with a look of complicity that made Winthrop stroke the ends of his mustache.

As they walked up the aisle of the church to the entrance, Duchess Fanny could not resist saying, ‘Really, this makes me feel a little emotional, Mr Cash, walking up the aisle on the arm of a man. I feel as if I were the bride myself,’ and she gave him a sideways look that made it clear that she considered him quite a suitable partner.

‘Well, anybody could be forgiven for mistaking you for a blushing bride, Duchess. Why, I could scarcely credit that you were old enough to have a grown son. When I first saw you I thought you must be your stepdaughter.’

‘Oh Mr Cash, you are teasing me, but I shan’t pretend I don’t like it. I hope you will come to England soon, I think you would enjoy it. If you come to Conyers, I promise to entertain you.’

Winthrop Cash wondered if the Duchess was really flirting with him. The little squeeze she gave his arm as she invited him to England held the promise of greater intimacy. He was not used to such signals from women of his own social class; his tastes ran to rather simpler transactions. But the Duchess was a beautiful woman and it tickled his vanity to have her look up at him with such invitation in her eyes. He found the Duchess altogether more to his taste than her son. The disagreement they had had over Cora’s settlement still rankled. The Duke had expected Cora’s fortune to be handed over to him; he had been astonished when Cash had explained that the money he would settle on Cora would be hers to control. ‘Do you mean to say that you expect me to ask Cora for money?’ Ivo had said loudly and slowly, as if speaking to someone with an imperfect command of English. Winthrop had replied that in America women retained control of their fortune when they married, he saw no reason to change things because his only child was marrying an Englishman, even such a distinguished one (the last remark made with a stiff little bow to the Duke). The implication was not lost on Wareham, who went silent. The pause lasted for some minutes until the Duke managed a smile of sorts and tried to speak with some degree of warmth.

‘You must excuse me, Mr Cash, I had no idea that our ways of doing things were so very different. I should probably have brought some adviser with me but I did not foresee the need. I am not a fortune-hunter, Mr Cash, I am merely an Englishman who shrinks from burdening his future wife with the cares of running an estate. I won’t pretend that my affairs are unencumbered. The depression in prices has affected me greatly. I don’t want to marry Cora for her money but there is no doubt that money will be needed. We English don’t mind so much being shabby but Cora has been brought up to all this…’ he gestured round the library in the Cash mansion. In its decoration and furnishings, the American library was in every way similar to its English equivalent on which it had been closely modelled; the difference was not in the furnishings but in the absence of damp and the general air of comfort that lay across the room like a cashmere stole.

Winthrop looked at the younger man with a degree of scepticism. He knew that dukes did not marry American heiresses for love alone; moreover, this union was a transaction on both sides, even if Cora would never admit it. He could protect her fortune but he wondered if by doing so he would condemn their marriage; he thought of how much he would dislike having to ask his wife for money. He decided to make a concession to the Duke’s pride – his father the Golden Miller had taught him that it was bad business not to let the defeated party walk away with honour. He would make a settlement on the Duke as a wedding gift, but he would make his gesture on the day of the wedding. He had not quite forgiven the Duke for his assumption that Cora was getting the best part of the bargain.

But thoughts of the son evaporated as the mother cooed in his ear about the splendours of Conyers and how much she would like to introduce him to the Prince of Wales. As he handed her into the carriage, Winthrop noticed that on the sliver of skin visible between the Duchess’s sleeve and her glove there was a blue marking. If it had been anyone else, he would have sworn it was a tattoo.