The Dressmaker (41 page)

“What? You are
what
?” Lucile almost shrieked the words.

Tess felt as if she had lifted a knife and plunged it through a crowd. Why would her leaving matter? But heads were turning, eyes wide. A hush fueled by quick whispers flew through the loft.

Tess pointed at her dress. She couldn’t trust herself to pick it up.

“Letting me make this was a bribe, pure and simple. You were buying my loyalty.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucile said.

“You knew money would be too blatant. Money was for those sailors, so they would lie about Jim Bonney at the hearings. But a bribe it was.”

Lucile’s face turned gray. She clutched at her heart, and James came running out of the office to hold her up.

“I didn’t need a bribe. I would have stayed because I wanted to. But not now, not for anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Lucile, please stop pretending. You’re plotting to paint Jim Bonney as a common criminal in England—that’s what I’m talking about. To actually get him arrested on a false charge. Why? Was he that much of a threat to you?”

“I couldn’t care less about that sailor.”

“What happened in your boat?”

Lucile stared at her, features frozen. She turned away. “You’re hysterical. I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s easy to deny, I guess. But I can’t believe how easily you would try to ruin a man.” Tess’s voice was cracking now.

Lucile stood braced against a cutting table, her eyes dark as brackish water. “I have nothing to do with any absurd scheme to send your sailor to jail. Do you understand?”

Of course she would deny it, that was her nature. This woman in front of her, her mentor, the woman who had so casually plucked her from a life of service and opened up the world to her, was perfectly ready to bluff this one through. She no more cared what happened to Jim than she cared what happened to the people who could have—who
should
have—been in her lifeboat. All this, all this around her—the fabrics, the clothes, the dreams—everything was built on selfishness. The only thing built on anything admirable was Jim’s behavior after the ship sank.

“I would respect you more if you admitted the truth. But it doesn’t matter; I can’t work for you anymore.”

“That’s just simply not possible, Tess. I want you here, and I know nothing about any plot to destroy that sailor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lucile thrust out her chin, her lips pulled thin. “Then you are breaking your promise to me.”

“Goodbye.” Tess turned to leave.

“Just what do you think you’re going to do, Tess? Make beds and clean toilets again?” Lucile said defiantly.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

“What about your dress? Don’t you want it in the show?” It was the last arrow in her quiver.

Tess turned back, aware that all eyes were on her, caught by this unprecedented act of self-immolation. “I don’t care,” she said slowly. “Call it your own, if you wish. Or throw it away.”

“Perhaps I’ll get some pillowcases out of it—is that what you want?” Lucile was playing to her audience now, desperately.

“That would be fine.” Tess turned toward the paralyzed workers in the room and smiled. “Thank you all, you were wonderful to me,” she said, and then marched out of the loft, leaving only silence in her wake.

SENATE OFFICE BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.

William Alden Smith greeted the visitor to his Washington office in the Senate Office Building with weary courtesy.

“My goodness, Senator, you look very down in the mouth,” his visitor said as she walked into the room, filling it with her girth and her hearty voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Brown,” he said. If she was here to once again push her case for going on the stand, he would have to discourage her firmly this time.

“Not having much fun, are you?”

“Of course not, this is a serious matter.”

“You’ve not had a great run in the British papers, I see.”

“Being called ‘a born fool’ because of my lack of nautical expertise is a weary experience,” he snapped.

Mrs. Brown laughed. “Oh, come now, Senator. When you asked Officer Lowe if he knew what an iceberg was made of—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Did she have to repeat it?

“And he said, with a straight face, ‘Ice,’ can’t you smile a bit at yourself?”

“I am more concerned with serious issues. Do you realize the man who told us there were no binoculars on the ship is being ostracized by all the surviving officers? Nobody will talk to poor Fleet, which
is outrageous. He won’t come out of his room at the boarding house, not even to eat. I’m worried about him.”

“Quite properly, of course. But you’re doing a good job,” Mrs. Brown said, settling herself cheerfully into a chair, not appearing a bit in awe of his quite imposing office. “It’s a thankless one, and you haven’t pretended to knowledge of ships or the sea. I like an honest man.”

Mollified, Smith allowed himself a smile. “I do have trouble remembering which end is the bow and which is the stern,” he admitted. “But when my investigation is complete there will be a strong, comprehensive body of information for the public to digest.”

“With no one admitting to anything, of course. Isn’t that the way of the world?”

“Indeed it is.”

She wiped her forehead with a wrinkled handkerchief. “My, it’s hot in here, I would think politicians wouldn’t like the heat too much,” she said absentmindedly. “You’re wondering why I’m here, right? Well I’m not here to persuade you to put me on the stand, if that’s worrying you. But I sure could use some help.”

“What about?” he asked, caught off guard.

“That obnoxious couple, the Duff Gordons. Not a very nice pair, I’d say. I think they’re out to crush that sailor who testified about their behavior on the lifeboat. You know who I mean, right?”

Smith remembered the sight of Jim Bonney’s long legs striding away from the Senate Office Building. “Yes, I do,” he said.

“Well, I found out from the
Times
reporter, Pinky Wade, that he’s about to be caught in a nice little trap they’ve set up.” She swiftly filled Smith in on the details, then sat back, folding her hands over her ample stomach. “Can you pull some strings? Get somebody paying attention to what they’re trying to do?”

“I don’t have much leverage with British officials,” Smith said dryly. “They seem to think I’m some kind of comic figure.”

“I know that—Lord’s sake, the same is true for me. Don’t let it get you down. But you have contacts over there; I know you do. A couple of old classmates, I hear? In the House of Commons?”

He wondered how she happened to know this, and peered at her more closely. She must be more keenly intelligent than she appeared.

“All it would take is for somebody to check the records and block any attempt to reactivate a dead charge. Just a little fresh air on what’s going on, you know?”

“I will make some inquiries,” he said carefully. “All I can do is raise interest among the right people and see if they’re willing to follow up.”

“Good enough.” She beamed. “Bonney is a very talented man, you know. An artist. He’ll do well here, if he can shake the
Titanic
off his back.”

“I believe that may be true for many of us,” Smith said, feeling his weariness descend again.

“Well, Senator, my feeling is, none of us ever will get free of it all the way.”

“Indeed,” he said with a sigh. “We go back to New York this afternoon to hear more testimony tomorrow.”

“So I hear. With Lady Duff Gordon as a star witness. Do you think we will learn anything more of the truth in Lifeboat One?”

“I will at least have this beleagured woman on the record, whatever she says.”

“A modest goal, Senator.”

“Mrs. Brown, you may be surprised.”

Lucile threw open the door of the hotel suite just as Cosmo, standing in front of the sideboard, was pouring a glass of bourbon from a crystal flask.

“I’ll take one of those,” she said, tossing her handbag onto the sofa. “I’ve had a terrible day. That ungrateful girl has quit on me, accusing me of all sorts of things. I never should have brought her here, I can see that now.”

Cosmo poured a second glass and turned, holding it out to her.
His gaze was calm and steady. “For you, dear. You are going to need it.”

“What does that mean?” she said, walking forward and taking the glass.

“I’ve had the report on what happened today. I thought Tess might make a little noise, but she acted quite rashly. Too bad.”

“What are you saying?” She was holding the glass now, staring at him.

“Can we pass on the indignant part of the scene? You wouldn’t have wanted to know, and I’m quite weary of hysterics.”

“Wanted to know
what
?”

“You already know, I think.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Cosmo, what did you do to me?” Her voice had an authentic quaver.

“I have done nothing
to
you. I have done something
for
you. That sailor will no longer be a threat. I do hope you still understand the difference.” He drained his glass with a quick toss.

“Tess denounced me and quit. I don’t quite see how that was beneficial to me.”

“For God’s sake, you can do without her. If my plan goes through properly, the British press will have reason to treat us much more kindly. We can’t stop what Bonney might say, but we can change how reporters react to him. Think of it as a chess maneuver, Lucy.”

“And he goes to jail?”

“Briefly. Just long enough for public opinion to exonerate us for being victims of a deceitful rabble-rouser.”

“But I have lost Tess.”

“Your substitute daughter, of course. For the one you actually lost.”

In the silence that followed, the mantel clock seemed to tick louder than usual.

“You were not happy about the pregnancy, as I recall.”

“I would have adjusted.”

“Nonsense. A child would have drastically complicated our lives.”

“Let’s see. What was it? Respectability and money for you and—let’s see, what was there for me? I’ve forgotten.”

“Don’t sneer at me.”

“I’ll tell you what I got. The woman I loved. Or so I thought.”

“This is such a tiresome story,” she said, taking off her jacket, turning her face away. “As for this sailor, you must find another way, Cosmo. I can’t tolerate this. Several more clients canceled this afternoon, and I think it’s because Tess’s tirade is making its way around town. I don’t know who will come now.”

“That’s a price you may have to pay to stave off a worse disaster back home.”

“Is that all the sympathy I get from you?”

Cosmo slowly poured himself a second shot of bourbon and stood holding it, staring at the glass. “I’m afraid there’s more. I will be with you for your testimony, Lucy. But I’m going back to London tomorrow night.”

She felt her first jolt of fear. “You’re leaving me here alone? Not staying for my show? Whatever is so important that it takes you away at this crucial time?”

“I’ll stand by you for the inquiries, here and at home. But that’s all I can promise.”

“My God, Cosmo, what are you saying?”

“I believe things have changed for us—quite significantly, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed over the years being the quiet supporter who could make things work for you. But not anymore. It isn’t just this caterwauling American press tearing my reputation apart. It’s the fact that you see me far more as a servant than as a husband. Just one more obedient follower doing the bidding of the great Lucile.” He looked at her fully for the first time in a long while. “I’ve made the mistake of letting you get away with it for too long.”

Lucile swayed, the bourbon sloshing to the rim of her glass, spilling onto the carpet.

“Hold yourself up, dear. I’m not going to grab you.” Once again, he drained his glass. “You will have to fend for yourself here, I’m afraid. As I said, I will stay by your side through the inquiries. After that, I don’t know.”

“You would leave me?
Abandon
me?”

In the long silence that followed, she looked as if she might truly faint.