She Walks in Beauty (29 page)

“No. Not that. I meant The Bowery. What was it like?”

“It was . . .” How was it? Exactly? “It was nowhere I’d like to find myself again. Ever.”

“They say it’s filled with . . .” She looked at me expectantly.

I looked back with what I hoped was ignorance.

“They say that there are
prostitutes
there.”

Prostitutes! Had there been prostitutes among those wretched people? Lizzie had whispered and so I whispered back. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You didn’t see any?”

“I might have.”

Lizzie’s eyes grew round. “You did?”

I shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “I actually don’t know if I did or didn’t. How do they look?”

“Not quite … nice.”

Then there very well might have been some. But most of the stares we received hadn’t been nice. They had been threatening. And … hostile. “At least Harry was there to rescue us.”

“Harry rescued you?”

I nodded.

“He was the gentleman? Really?”

“Yes. He whisked us from our carriage into his own and back up Fifth Avenue.”

“Just like that?”

“Very much like that.” It hadn’t taken more than a minute to make the shift.

“How romantic!”

“Harry? Romantic?”

“I’ve always thought so.”

She had?

“Franklin wouldn’t have been bothered to get his gloves dirty. So what did he say?”

“Harry?”

Lizzie nodded.

“He said … let me see if I can remember it right. He said, ‘May I offer you a ride?’”

Lizzie sighed. “‘May I offer you a ride . . .’”

“Lizzie! Don’t be such a goose.”

“I can’t help it. The only thing Franklin ever talks to me about is hunting. Or horses. And then I’ll look over to where you’re talking with Harry, and I’ll think to myself, It looks like she’s laughing because he’s actually said something truly funny. And then I’ll wish I were you all over again.”

She wished she were me? That couldn’t be possible. Why would the accomplished, adorable Lizzie Barnes wish she were me? And why did Franklin talk to her about horses? He’d never mentioned horses to me.

Lizzie began to giggle. “But I think I’ve finally discovered the secret: If I ask him about himself, then he’s happy to talk on and on without any help from me! It’s too bad Harry isn’t the heir. I might have had to fight you for him.”

“But he’s not—”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek and left in a flutter of skirts.

“He’s not mine.”

I don’t think she heard me.

25

I WENT INTO the house through the kitchen after Lizzie left. Enveloped by the cozy heat, I snatched up a roll as they were pulled from the oven and cradled it in my hands as I left, its warmth thawing my fingers.

Father was home. I heard him speaking as I passed his study. “He said they will give us the younger son.”

I paused, passing the roll from hand to hand as I stood there.

“The younger?” Aunt’s voice.

“That’s what De Vries said.”

De Vries? The younger? That meant … Harry? That meant Harry. Harry! They were going to give us … give me … Harry. A smile tugged at my lips, and joy filled my heart. Lizzie’s words had been prescient. A heat crept up from my neck to my cheeks.

Harry.

They weren’t going to make me marry Franklin after all!

I was just about to burst into Father’s study and thank him when I remembered that the conversation was meant to be private.

“No. No! We don’t want the younger. We want the elder! I hope you told him no.”

“I did.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said hadn’t they done enough by securing the invitations to the Patriarch’s Ball? Hadn’t they done enough by seeming to welcome Clara’s debut? He wondered why we had our sights set on Franklin when clearly Clara could have anyone she wanted.”

“Anyone but their own eldest son?”

I backed away from the door because I didn’t want to hear any more.

He’d said no? Father had said no.

It was then, as I slunk from the door and hid myself in the coat closet, as I examined my deepest thoughts and secret feelings, that I realized I didn’t want to marry Franklin. And it was there, as the truth of my situation dawned on me, that I discovered I had been placed into a trap. And I knew a great longing for freedom.

I was not entirely myself the next day. It seemed to me disingenuous and false to dance and flirt when the outcome of my debut had already been decided. I was to marry Franklin. Nothing I could do and nothing anyone could say would stop Father and Aunt from securing him for me.

Neither did I fear, anymore, being linked to one of the undesirables. Such company could be nothing other than temporary. I was destined for grander things.

Did Mr. Hamilton wish to dance with me?

I let him.

Did Mr. Porter wish to talk with me?

Why should I try to dodge him?

Did Mr. Hooper wish to stare at me?

What did it matter? I had not the fortitude to avoid his gaze that I usually did.

Only … he seemed to view such access as encouragement.

As he started across the room, I began, too late, to reconsider my indifference. He barely bowed before he spoke. “Miss Carter? I will contain myself no longer. The invitation you sent by your glance … I must speak to you of my dear departed sister.”

“Oh! Don’t … please don’t.”

“I must. I must speak on Minnie’s behalf.”

“I’m sure you must … not … Really, Mr. Hooper, is this truly the time or place to share such memories? I must confess that I never once met her.”

“But your father did. She was so kind. So gay. She looked forward, with such anticipation, to her debut.”

I could think of no reply.

“I have undertaken the study of medicine myself, in hopes of finding a true cure for the illness that plagued my sister.” The light of undying loyalty and the pain of sorrow mingled in his eyes. The poor fellow. He wasn’t mad; he simply missed his sister.

“That’s very commendable, Mr. Hooper.”

“But I will not remain silent: People like your father must be stopped!”

“My—But … my father?”

“Those who practice quackery under the guise of medicine.”

Quackery? Father was right: Grief
had
altered his mind. But madness did not preclude tact. “I’ll have you know that my father is the best doctor in this city!”

“No doctor worth his license would ever prescribe strychnine in the dose that he did.”

“I know nothing of medicine, Mr. Hooper.”

“And neither does your father.”

“I will not stay here and listen to your insults.” Though, as a matter of fact, I had to. Aunt had left me for the punch bowl. Until someone passed by that I recognized, I had no other means of escape.

“How is it that you get to debut and my sister does not? How is that just?”

I shrunk from his accusation. If his sister had appeared at that instant, in the flesh or in spectral form, I would have glady given her my own debut.

People were starting to turn in our direction and the look in their eyes was one of curiosity. I didn’t want to give them something to gossip about. I threaded my arm through Mr. Hooper’s as though he had made the valiant gesture of offering it to me himself. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Mr. Hooper, that your sister died.”

“Sorry? Sorry—!”

I bent my head in toward his in an effort to make him reduce his volume. “But I cannot see how I can be of any help to you.”

“Help to me? You disgust me! You and your father both. That he should squire you around New York City’s finest ballrooms when he peddles such—such—!” His face was growing red, and a vein was pulsing beneath his neck. “It’s an injustice that I hope to find some way to right.”

I pulled my arm from his. “I think, sir, that our acquaintance has come to an end.”

He shook his head, then began to smile in a most malicious way. “Our acquaintance shall never come to an end. Not until you renounce the debut that Minnie ought to have had.”

Renounce a debut? I might have credited the impossibility of his demand to grief, but he seemed, in that instant, quite sane. His eyes quite lucid. Would no one help me? I looked desperately around the room for Aunt, but for once she was nowhere to be found.

Mr. Hooper put his hand to my forearm.

I recoiled at his touch.

“Come now, Miss Carter. I would like—”

“There you are!”

It was with great relief and not a little loosening in my knees that I perceived those words to be Harry’s. At just the right time. “Mr. De Vries!”

“Isn’t … ? I thought this next one was my dance.”

“It is. You’re quite right. Please excuse us, Mr. Hooper.” I turned from him and then immediately attached myself to Harry’s forearm.

He swung me away and walked me across the ballroom floor. “I didn’t mean to interrupt if I shouldn’t have. Did … I assumed … ?”

I glanced at Harry, then gazed down at the floor. That Harry, of all people, should be the one to rescue me. Again. “I don’t think he’s in his right mind. He said I issued him an invitation. Through the glances I had given him.”

“Glances! Only a fool relies on an invitation from a glance.”

I smiled at his indignation. “And what would you rely upon?”

“A simple request. If I wanted a kiss, for instance, I would say, ‘Miss Carter, may I have the pleasure of your kiss?’ And you would say … ?”

If only he knew what I wanted to say. But no. I couldn’t. “Miss Carter would respond firmly in the negative.”

The sparkle went out of his eyes.

I couldn’t let him think I cared nothing for him. “But
Clara
might be persuaded to say yes.”

His lips crept up at one corner. “Really. Well. I must keep that in mind.”

My cheeks flamed at the implication. Perhaps my relief at being saved had overcome my discretion. But Harry, thankfully, did not take advantage of my lapse in prudence. He returned me to my aunt.

And as he did so, Franklin came to claim me. He bowed to my aunt before casting a look from me to Harry and then back to me. “He hasn’t embarrassed himself, has he? He’s been known to step on quite a few feet in his time. Remember the count’s daughter, Harry? In France?”

Harry smiled, but it contained no pleasure.

“She practically had to be carried from the dance floor. I shall never forget the stream of curses she cast after you. I learned some I had not known!” Franklin laughed as if he expected Harry and me to join him.

Harry excused himself.

Franklin took up my hand.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Old Harry’s up to it. He’s not so adept at the social graces. The best of intentions, but the worst of executions, you could say.”

“You’ve made him feel bad.”

“He’ll get over it. In fact, he is right now. Look.”

I looked in the direction Franklin had spun us, and indeed, Harry was leaning against a colonnade, speaking to Lizzie. As we watched, she smiled at him and placed a hand on his forearm.

He reached across and covered it with his own.

“Really, Franklin, for a gentleman you’re quite rude!”

He twirled us away from Harry and Lizzie and then pushed me back a step and looked into my face. “That truly bothered you?”

“It did.” And I wasn’t sure what bothered me most: Franklin’s disparagement of his brother or the possibility that Harry and Lizzie were … sociable. Why did Franklin always have to insinuate?

“Then I apologize. Forgiven?” He flashed a smile that had no more remorse in it than did a cat with a mouse caught up between its teeth.

But since it was a ball and since I would be marrying him, I simply smiled back. “Of course.” But Lizzie’s words continued to haunt me.
“It’s too bad Harry isn’t the heir. I might have had to fight you for him.”

My reward was a tightening of Franklin’s fingers at my back, which pulled me closer to his chest. “You’re quite fascinating, you know. I never know what you’re going to do or what you’re going to say.”

The problem was, I didn’t either.

“Every event is an adventure. Every dance is rife with possibilities.” The possibilities of which he spoke sparked a gleam in his eyes.

My gaze faltered before that look.

He laughed, then danced me forward and back with a force that cast me against his chest again. And for a brief moment, he clasped me to himself. “Such intriguing possibilities.”