The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (27 page)

But Eve had to get in touch with John Allister.  She had to tell him where Evelyn was and that she did not have tuberculosis.  She was sure he’d want to know, and Eve wanted Evelyn to see John.  It might help her fight off the illness and survive.

Eve had recalled a conversation she and Dr. Eckland had had while she was still living in Helen Price’s brownstone, while he was examining her.  He’d mentioned the Harringshaws’ costume ball.  “
The Harringshaws are having another one of those costume balls on December 4
^th,”
he’d said. 
“I suppose I will have to go… Unfortunately, my daughter will not be in town to accompany me.  I shall have to find someone else
.
”

Eve also recalled something else he’d said to her,
“I will see what I can do for you, Miss Kennedy.  I can’t promise anything, but I will see what I can do.”
 She hadn’t called upon him to help her find a job, but he had willingly written her a reference for the boarding house. 

Eve used the heavy knocker to knock on Dr. Eckland’s front door.  The door was opened by a frosty-haired man, complete with a frosty mustache.  He was in his 60s, dressed classily in white tie and tails, and he stood looking back at her blankly, as if he were a living, breathing manikin staring out blankly from a department store display window.

Eve cleared her throat.  “Is Dr. Eckland available?” she asked meekly.

His eyes didn’t move.  Was he breathing?  “Who may I ask is calling, please?”

His voice was deep and greatly affected, like a butler in an old 1930s movie.

“Eve Kennedy.  I am a former patient of his.”

His right, white eyebrow lifted, like Spock’s in
Star Trek
.  “Former, did you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he expecting you, madam?”

“No.”

“If you are not expected, Dr. Eckland will not be available.  You are welcome to make an appointment.”

“If you announce me, sir, I believe he will see me.”  Then Eve decided to drop
the
name that she was sure would get her in.  “Tell him it’s about Mr. Harringshaw.”

The butler blinked twice and finally focused on her.  She saw that he really was alive and not frozen.  He stepped aside.

“Please come in, madam.”

Eve stepped into the white marble foyer, framed in cherry wood.  The butler took her coat, hat and gloves and then led the way to a parlor off to the left.  He opened the heavy oak door and indicated into the room. 

“Please be seated, Miss Kennedy, and I will see if Dr. Eckland is available.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eve said, as formally as he had addressed her.

He closed the door and left Eve alone in a glorious room decorated in gold, with gothic furniture.  It had heavy proportions, dark finishes, elaborate carvings and ornamentation.  A fire was crackling in the fireplace.

She sat in an upholstered chair near the fireplace and waited, smelling wood smoke, leather and furniture polish.  Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Patrick Gantly.  She had not seen him since Sunday and she missed him.  Before he left her in the hospital corridor, he had looked at her oddly when she handed him a ten-dollar bill and thanked him for the loan. 

“You are an independent woman, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve gave a little nod, waiting for more.  He didn’t offer more and he didn’t take the money.

“Please take it and thank you,” Eve had said.  “It was a very thoughtful and generous thing to do.”

“It was a gift, Miss Kennedy.  I will not take it back, and it is in bad taste to ask me to take it back.”

Eve shrugged and stuffed it into her apron. “Okay.  Fine.  Thank you.”

“Yes, quite independent, Miss Kennedy, and you will always be thus, I think.”

“Thus?” Eve said.  “Always be thus?”

“I will be clearer then.  You will always be occupied with your work, won’t you, Miss Kennedy?”

Now Eve understood.  She had an independent spirit at a time when most women could never be independent.  They couldn’t own property; they couldn’t vote; they couldn’t go to saloons and drink alone without being thought a prostitute.  If a woman lived alone she was called a spinster, a derogatory name.  A woman couldn’t work on Wall Street or run a corporation or certainly, never, ever even think about running for political office. 

“Do you have a problem with that, Detective Sergeant Gantly?”

“A problem?” he asked, a bit taken back by her slang. 

“Yes, do you have a problem with the fact that I’ll always be occupied with my work?  Recently, I have even thought about becoming a doctor.  Would that be a problem, Mr. Detective?”

“You have a defensive tone, Miss Kennedy.”

“Yes, I guess I do because I am feeling defensive.”

“And you are flushed.  We have both had a long, challenging day, Miss Kennedy.  I should go.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” she pressed.

The overcoat Patrick had used to wrap Evelyn in was hanging across his arm.  He shouldered into it. 

“The problem is, Miss Kennedy, I happen to very much admire your conviction and your spirit.  It is rare to witness such strength and dedication, even in a man.”  He held up a hand to stop her before she could speak.  “And I mean no disrespect, Miss Kennedy.”

He turned and started for the exit door.  Eve called after him and he turned.  She closed the distance between them.

Her eyes traveled over his face, his wonderful, handsome, masculine face, and his full waiting lips.  “I’m sorry, Patrick.  I guess I’m tired, stressed and edgy.”

He was dead still.  “Patrick?”

“Do we have to be so formal?  Can’t we just call each other Patrick and Eve?  I mean, is it so awful?  Would anybody fall over dead?”

“You are constantly surprising me, Miss Kennedy.”  He took in a little breath.  “You do surprise me and I find that I am always delighted by the surprise.”

He moved closer to her and she felt that wonderful rush of excitement.  If this were the 21st century, she’d stand up on tip toes and kiss him.  She would ask him out for a drink.  She might even ask him back to her place.  But this was the Gilded Age and there were conventions and strict morals, at least in public, and women could not be so bold without being thought a hussy.

“Patrick, thank you for what you did today.  Thank you for saving Evelyn.  It was a very kind and generous thing to do.”

“Is that what I did?  Did I save Evelyn or did I want to spend my entire day with you because I wanted to be with you?  I wonder.”

They stood, their eyes exploring, wanting.

“Good evening, Miss Kennedy.”

He turned, started walking away, and then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.  “I will drop by in the next few days to see how Miss Sharland is doing.  Will that be all right, Miss Kennedy?”

Eve smiled.  “Still so formal, Patrick?  Do we always have to be so formal?”

“You have not told me the truth about yourself, Miss Kennedy.  You are still holding a large part of yourself in shadow.  Perhaps someday, when you trust me completely, we can be less formal.”

He smiled, tipped his hat and left.

The door opened and Dr. Eckland appeared, dressed in a blue velvet smoking jacket, looking surprised and worried.  As Eve stood, he came over to her.

“Miss Kennedy.  What brings you here?  Haynes, my butler, said you mentioned the Harringshaws.  Are you in any distress?” 

She waited until the gilded mantel clock dinged seven times, and even then she wasn’t sure how direct or indirect she should be.  She spoke in a low tone. 

“Dr. Eckland, please forgive me if I am too direct.  Are you still planning to attend the Harringshaw costume ball Friday next, on December 4
^th
?”

He looked at her with interest, his lips pursed slightly.  “Why yes, of course.”

“Are you escorting anyone, I mean a lady?”

He unbuttoned the top button of his jacket and then buttoned it again.  “I was, Miss Kennedy.  I was to escort Miss Emmaline Fish, but I received a note from her only yesterday stating that her brother had passed away from complications of a gunshot wound.  It seems the poor man shot himself.  Bad business, Miss Kennedy.  Unfortunately, he was a troubled young man who often took to drink and immoral living.  As a friend to Miss Fish, I tried to counsel the poor man about such things, but I fear he was not inclined to take anyone’s advice.”

“I am sorry to hear of his death, Dr. Eckland.”

“I treated the young man for fevers when he was a boy.  It is a sad thing, really.  Terribly sad.”

Eve took a breath and gathered all her courage.  “Dr. Eckland, would you consider letting me accompany you to the ball?”

He was gently surprised.  He tilted his head in analysis. 

“Have you been invited?”

“No, Doctor, I have not.”

“Ah, so you want me to invite you to the Harringshaw costume ball, Miss Kennedy?”

“Yes.  I would so love to attend, if you would consider it appropriate for me to accompany you.”

Dr. Eckland unbuttoned and buttoned his jacket again as he glanced over at the shining fireplace.

“Would you like a glass of port wine, Miss Kennedy?”

This was the first time since she’d arrived that anyone had offered her an alcoholic beverage.  She’d had to ask for the beer at Dorlan’s restaurant.

“Yes, Dr. Eckland, I would love a glass of port.”

He walked over to a tall, gargoyled cabinet with a glass front, opened it and took out a decorative canister and two crystal port glasses.  He poured the 20-year tawny port, turned and handed a glass to Eve.  They touched glasses, which tinged like a little bell.

“To Thanksgiving,” he said.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Eve said.

He smiled, warmly.  “Yes, a happy Thanksgiving, and why not?”

Eve felt the sweet, velvety port slide down her throat and soothe her chest.  It was by far the best port she had ever tasted, not that she was any authority, but her ex, Blake, had known about wine and port.  She’d tasted a few.

“This is very good,” Eve said.

“I am glad you like it, my dear.  Now, Miss Kennedy, I want to explain something to you about this Harringshaw costume ball.  It will be a grand social affair.  All of New York society will be attending.”

Eve suspected where he was going with this.  “I understand, Dr. Eckland.  I know I’m just a nurse with no name or title.”

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.  “No, it is not that, Miss Kennedy.  My grandfather was Theodore Eckland, who came to the New World to fight with George Washington at Brandywine, Pennsylvania, and then again at Yorktown.  He was an officer and a gentleman, Miss Kennedy, who held high office during the time that George Washington lived in New York, and afterwards.  Although the Eckland name is not as well-known as Astor or Vanderbilt, I am proud to say that it is a revered and respected name.  Whom I choose to accompany me to any social occasion is of my own choosing, Miss Kennedy.  No, I am speaking about an entirely different matter.”

He leaned toward her, suddenly flush with excitement.  “We have to come up with a costume for you.”

Eve’s eyes flashed with new life.  “Then you will allow me to accompany you, Dr. Eckland?”

He gave a little courtly bow.  “It will be my honor, Miss Kennedy.  I shall be the envy of every man, and most especially, if I may add in all candor and with all due respect, of Albert Harringshaw.”

Eve feigned calm, but her pulse sped up.  She couldn’t care less about Albert Harringshaw.  It was John Allister she needed for a few private moments.

Dr. Eckland drained his port glass and set it aside.  “But there is still the matter of your costume.  We have precious little time, my dear.  Have you given it any thought?”

“What will you be wearing?” Eve asked.

Dr. Eckland puffed his chest out proudly.  “I will be costumed as Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon, from Shakespeare’s,
Much Ado About Nothing
.  In my view, he is one of the most thought-provoking characters in the play.  I shall wear a large feathered hat, a blue velvet jacket with golden buttons, tights, and the most pointed shoes you can imagine.  My costume will be the stuff of great and glorious gossip, Miss Kennedy.  In short, I am going to enjoy myself immensely.”

His attention sharpened on her, his enthusiasm growing.  Eve had never seen him so animated.  He appeared 10 years younger.  “But enough of that.  What costume shall we create for you, my dear?  I know the best seamstress in New York and I will see that she works on it night and day.”

“What will it cost, Dr. Eckland?”

“The cost!?” he snorted.  He waved the question away.  “Damn the cost!  Excuse my language, Miss Kennedy, but the cost is irrelevant.  Completely irrelevant.”

“But I must pay for it,” Eve said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear Miss Kennedy.  It will be in the hundreds of dollars.  Perhaps a good one thousand or more.”

Eve’s eyes widened.  “What?  No, Dr. Eckland.  That’s too much.”

He ignored her words as he circled her, hands locked behind his back, speculating and calculating.  “We’ll hear no more of it, Miss Kennedy.  Now we must concentrate.  We must think.  We must plan.”

He brought a finger to his lips, narrowing his eyes on her.  An idea struck and he jolted awake with excitement.

“I have it, Miss Kennedy!  Yes, of course.  You will be Rosalind!”

Eve’s eyes shifted.  She was embarrassed to tell Dr. Eckland that she didn’t know who Rosalind was.  He noticed her lack of response.

“You don’t like Rosalind, Miss Kennedy?  Rosalind from
As You Like It
?”

Eve knew
As You Like It
was a Shakespeare play.  She’d seen a production some years ago at Shakespeare in the Park in New York.

She blurted out, “Yes.  Yes, of course I know Rosalind.”

Dr. Eckland clasped his hands together.  “Yes, it will be fine.  You are a bit like Rosalind, Miss Kennedy.  She is one of Shakespeare’s women with a very strong character and a profound message.  Being of a high class, she fights and overcomes the limitations placed on women in the society of the time.  She is strong, charming, and knowledgeable.  Yes, Miss Kennedy, you will be Rosalind.  Now let’s see, as to the dress.  First of all, you will not be corseted.  Not in Rosalind’s time.  The dress will be a cream, satin and beaded gown, with a velvet over-gown.  Yes, I can see that quite clearly.  Okay, well, maybe we don’t have to be so decisive just yet.  But, at any rate, we will lower the neckline so that we can capture the lurid eyes of the men and the jealous stares of the women.  Yes?”