The Dressmaker (42 page)

“I said, I don’t know.”

“Then I will be thinking of alternatives myself.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s my Lucy. I like your instinct to fight back, always have.”

“Then you surely aren’t serious?”

“Yes, I am. Never more serious about anything in my life.” He nodded toward Lucile’s bedroom door. “Elinor is in your room, waiting for you.”

She turned, white-faced, and walked unsteadily through the parlor to the bedroom door. It opened as she reached out to turn the handle. Elinor, her eyes pitying, stood there, holding out her arms.

The day’s light was fading when Pinky heard a sharp knock on the apartment door. Probably a neighbor complaining about the smell of her burned brisket again. Why did she keep overcooking the bloody roast? Too much on her mind, that was why. Braced, she opened the door and found herself staring at Jim Bonney.

“Got some soap and water and a mop?” he said.

“I’m sorry about the smell, I’m just so lazy—”

“Just get me the bucket of soap and water and throw in some bleach.” He patted her on the shoulder, reached behind her, and pulled out a mop leaning against the wall.

“I keep it there because I’m always just about to clean the hall.” Stop apologizing, she told herself as she hurried into the kitchen for Fels-Naptha and water. Within a few minutes, Jim was scrubbing the stairs with ferocious energy.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she protested.

“What do you think I did on that ship? I’m better at it than you are, I’d say.”

“Not better, just faster.” She bit her lip. There she was, firing off again.

“Suit yourself. Smell anything?”

He was at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the mop and grinning up at her.

She sniffed. “No,” she said delightedly. “Well, just the bleach.”

“Then my job is done.”

She reached out for the bucket and mop and stood aside for him to come in. “Now you have to stay for dinner,” she said. “That’s my thank-you.”

This time it was Jim who sniffed the air. “Burned meat, right? Smells delicious. I accept.”

Now, close up, she saw how worn his face looked. This was no social call, much as she wished it was. “Come join me in the kitchen,” she said.

He sat down heavily, rubbing hands turned red with laundry soap. “You haven’t written anything about this indictment?”

She put a pot of water on to boil and began peeling potatoes. “I want to see if Mrs. Brown can turn it around. I told Tess.”

“You did? What did she say?”

“She quit. Denounced Lady Duff and walked out.”

Jim went still. “She quit?”

Pinky glanced at him, long enough to see the astonishment in his eyes. “She did it for you, nobody else. She has nothing to gain, and that’s the truth.”

He dropped his head, then lifted it quickly. “She shouldn’t have done that. I don’t need empty gestures.”

“Gestures?” Pinky turned fully to him, astonished. “That’s no
gesture
, that’s a genuine
protest
, and you should know it better than anyone.”

“I’m grateful. But Tess is giving up what she loves; I don’t want her to do that. And it isn’t going to change anything. That’s done, over with.”

“I’m sorry, but you don’t sound as if you believe a word you’re saying.”

“I have to make it true,” he said quietly.

“Just get this straight. She sacrificed hugely for you today.”

“She’s in love with someone else. That’s the fact of it.”

Why was she working so hard at this? It was her big mouth again. “Maybe you think that, but you don’t know for sure.”

He lifted his head. “What an optimist,” he said with the shadow of a grin.

“I fake it pretty well. Are you braced for Lady Duff’s testimony tomorrow?”

“She’ll say what she wants to believe.”

“With plenty of theater thrown in.”

He laughed, then looked around the kitchen. “Look, can I help? Put together a plate for your father? Better get that brisket out of the oven.”

“Oh, yes, I’m forgetting it again.” She opened the oven door and pulled out the roasting pan, her face flushing from the heat. He wasn’t asking her to be his advocate with Tess. No hints about carrying messages. Had he really given up? She didn’t believe it.

Dinner this time was in a restaurant with walls that glowed like a fine glass of Burgundy. Tess could only pick at her food—richly marbled roast beef, currants whipped into a soft cheese soufflé—unable to muster the energy to eat, not even such fare as was before her. She listened distractedly to Jack, barely hearing him.

He threw down his napkin. “You’ve got only one thing on your mind right now,” he said, and then fell silent.

Tess barely heard him. “I kept defending her. What was wrong with me? I should have realized that everything had to be done her way. I did what I had said I would never do again. I kept my head down, tried to please—” She put her fork down; it was no use. Again, she could hear her father’s voice. Yes, she had been a foolish girl, but not by doing what he warned against. She had been foolish
not
to speak up,
not
to step forward.

“You are here with me now. You’ve left Lucile. Isn’t that enough?”

With effort, she shifted attention. “No, not while Jim is in trouble.”

“He isn’t caught in their trap yet. Who’s working on it?”

“Mrs. Brown, from the ship; she spotted his talent in carving and is starting him in business here.”

“Ah yes, Mrs. Brown. The indomitable, unsinkable Margaret.” He smiled. “We’ve had some business dealings over the years. Quite a formidible woman, and she knows how to pull strings. So you’ve quit in protest. Now what?”

She could hear the clock ticking behind her. “I don’t know. I know what you’re asking me, but I just don’t know yet.”

“A sensible response. In many ways, I’m a stranger to you.” He sat back in his chair, gazing at her thoughtfully. “I’m asking too much, I’m afraid.”

She straightened up in her chair. “Then tell me who you are.”

“The product of a fairly predictable life with more privileges than most, but I earned them myself. A slow learner, which probably explains two divorces.” A silence fell between them. “Not enough?” Ruefully, he touched his sideburns. “Turning gray,” he said. “I’m sensitive about that. Does that help?”

“A little.”

“Well, you don’t seem to have as much hesitation over your bond to that sailor. And how long have you known
him
?”

“That’s different,” she said, startled.

His face clouded. “Maybe you love him, Tess. Maybe that’s what’s holding you back.”

He looked so profoundly sad, she couldn’t sit still. Silently, she pushed the table aside and moved close, her arms encircling him. He had a right to know where he stood.

“Please give me time,” she whispered. He cradled her head with one hand, and they both held on.

I
’m ready.” Lucile stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed all in black, surveying her face in the boudoir mirror. “Do I need more powder?”

“You’re fine,” Elinor replied. “Cosmo said to make sure you review those briefing papers before we go downstairs.”

“I don’t need them,” Lucile said with a faint echo of her usual haughty manner. “And why isn’t Cosmo here to tell me that himself? He’s a coward, that’s what he is—”

“Stop it, Lucy, he’s not a coward. This is going to ruin him, and you know it. They’re already making ‘doing a Duff-Gordon’ slang for bribery back home.” Elinor’s face was almost as pale as her sister’s.

Lucile said nothing at first, pulling a white lace handkerchief from her glove and dabbing her eyes. “We’ve both been maligned, and I’ll not let them get away with it. And Cosmo won’t leave me; it would only deepen the scandal.” She looked directly at her sister. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Elinor forced a smile. “I hope so.”

Again, a silence.

“We need to go downstairs soon.”

Lucile sighed. “Is the white handkerchief against the black dramatic enough? Or should I wear a white lace collar, too?”

“Save the collar for London.”

“I can handle this just fine, Elinor, stop looking at me that way.”

Elinor, for once, was neither jaunty nor flippant. “Of course. And I will do my best to pick up the pieces.”

The East Room was filling rapidly. Pinky stood near the back of the room, scanning faces so intently that she didn’t see Jim making his way toward her through the crowd until he touched her shoulder. His cheeks were high with color and he was smiling.

“What are you doing here?” she said, drawing him to a corner. “You’ll be swarmed by reporters, if they see you.”

“I had to take that chance. I have news,” he said. “That indictment? Withdrawn this morning. Don’t know why, don’t know how, but it’s dead.”

Pinky slapped her pencil against her notebook triumphantly. “I knew it! I knew Mrs. Brown would find a way to set this right. How did she do it?”

“She didn’t. She told me this morning neither she nor Senator Smith could get any help from the British government.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know. Neither does she. A mystery—how about that? But now I don’t have to go back to England and prove I’m not a criminal. That might not be what most people think is good news, but it sure is mine. I probably won’t even be subpoenaed now for the inquiry, since I’ve got a job here.”

A man, mopping his brow vigorously in the intensifying heat of the crowded room, shouldered past them, mumbling something about the impossibility of finding a seat. Angry shouts were coming from the doorway; once again, people who wanted in were having trouble pushing into the room.

“Thanks for the brisket,” he said soberly. “And for being on my side.”

And then he was gone, leaving her to stand there wondering what had happened to her journalistic objectivity. Because he was right.

No, he wasn’t gone. He had stopped still as a woman approached
him, and now they were facing each other, inches apart. It was Tess, and Pinky drew in her breath. What was
she
doing here, after quitting yesterday? Were they both crazy?