I was about to leave the apartments the next morning when a knock sounded at the front door. I opened it to a youth who handed me a telegram. “Please wait,” I ordered. Quickly, I looked over the printed words. It was from Seamus. He had discovered Maureen’s disappearance along with her note and was anxious about her safety. He prayed she was with me and asked if I was returning her on the next scheduled train. He would stay in Hagerstown until he heard.
I wrote a quick reply assuring him that Maureen was safe and since she was here, I had requested her assistance with preparations for my journey to Ireland. She would accompany me on my return to Stonebridge. He could expect a telegram in a few days giving him instructions when to meet us. I returned this information with a generous tip to the telegraph boy and told him it was extremely important to transmit the message at once. The boy acknowledged my order and took off running.
I hailed a hansom cab and within half an hour I stood outside the Metropole, a gentleman’s club. It was an unlikely business housed among factories, commercial buildings, and warehouses. The building stood alone and inside its heavy double doors I knew cleanup was going on as workers removed debris from the previous evening. They were busy setting up gambling tables for the coming night’s entertainment, restocking mirrored shelves with clean glasses, and scrubbing and polishing the long bar.
Astelle Linden ruled the hired help with a firm hand. It was unknown to most people that she was the owner, a fact she kept hidden behind her brother, Rudy. But the staff abided by her standards; they knew who was boss.
Anyone caught gossiping about the club’s affairs was dismissed. This was a place where businessmen and politicians came to informally negotiate business deals and discuss the national agenda over drinks. Professionally-run gaming tables catered to their riskier natures, if they desired to test their luck.
Local residents did not approve of Astelle or her brother. Women, in particular, believed they spurred the damnation of men's souls, tempting them in ways that were sinful. This was the devil’s work; the Lindens had power over men’s weaker senses. They enticed the nation’s strongest leaders through their doors and were the keepers of many confidential secrets.
To avoid curious glances from the staff, I passed the heavy front doors and used my key to unlock a side door that led into a quiet hallway and steps upstairs to the apartments above. I knew I faced a possible rebuttal because Astelle hated to be disturbed before noon.
Even with this knowledge, I didn't hesitate when the lock clicked noiselessly letting me into her apartments. Moving cautiously through the drawing room with its heavy furnishings, its many paintings, and cold fireplace, I drew back long drapes and let in the sunlight. I peered inside the bedroom, accompanied by light from the outer room. Astelle stirred, removed a mask from over her eyes and asked, sleepily, “Who’s there?” She raised up in bed and her frown turned to pleasure when she saw me.
“Ellis, darling, you’re back.” She pushed aside the eiderdown, slipped her feet into silk slippers and padded over to where I stood, her pale colored nightdress clinging to a firmness that defied her age. Her hand moved through my hair and came to rest on my neck while her lips found mine. I struggled to deny her scent, her softness pressing against me through flimsy material.
Firmly, I removed myself from her embrace. “I need a favor, Astelle,” I said. Her lips formed a pout and she moved away slightly.
“You didn’t rush here to see me?”
I pulled her back into my arms. “Of course, I had to see you. But first, I must ask your help.”
She traced my lips with her fingers. “What’s so important?”
I moved to a comfortable chair beside the fireplace that I had sat in many times before. Astelle lounged against the heavily pillowed window-seat facing me while I told her about Maureen. She toyed with a blond curl as I talked, the outline of her body distracting me constantly. I filled in the details quickly because being near her made it difficult to concentrate.
When I finished my story she moved behind me, massaged my neck, and began kissing my ear. “You worry so, Ellis,” she said. “Leave young Maureen to me. Before the day’s over, she’ll look like the Irish cousin you want, and no one’ll be any the wiser.”
I sighed with relief knowing I could trust Maureen to Astelle’s capable genius. With this worry safely resolved, I stood up and Astelle moved into my arms. She pushed my jacket off my shoulders and began unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t resist this time. Instead I picked her up and carried her to the high-poster bed. Arms locked tightly around my neck, she threw back her head and laughed. We tumbled together on the firm mattress amid scented sheets. “I’ve missed you, darling,” Astelle murmured against my ear. I removed her flimsy nightgown, moving my hand slowly over her taut nipples and naked thighs. Passion burned in my groin, and I abandoned myself to the sensual pleasure of her body.
I had yet to tell her about my mother’s dying wish.
It was late morning when I rode the hansom again, stopping only briefly at Chandler's Moving Company, then continuing on to Emmons Acquisition Agency. Ulrich Waiker was busy poring over accounts when I walked in. He was a bright young man who learned quickly and had been training under my direction for a year. I had left him several tasks to settle in my absence. Without looking up he said, “Glad you’re back, Mr. O’Donovan.”
“How did you know it was me, Ulrich?”
“Footsteps, sir.” He paused from his calculations to look at me.
“There are serious family problems,” I said answering his gaze. “But I want to discuss them with Emmons first. I hope to dine with him this evening; perhaps you’ll join us at the Metropole afterwards, since this matter will certainly concern you.”
Ulrich nodded. “Would you like to see what I’ve accomplished in your absence, sir?” He pulled master ledgers from a shelf and took them to the large table that we used to examine multiple accounts.
We became absorbed in our work for several hours. I hadn't realized how much time had passed until Shanley walked into the office, his hat tucked firmly under his arm. Eyes straight ahead, he handed me a note.
“Mr. Emmons reply, sir,” he said.
I moved to the window, promptly opened the envelope, and shook open the single sheet of paper. It read. Meet me for dinner at 6:30 in the Cambridge Hotel. Clara will accompany me so bring along your cousin who is likely to be closer in age. Clara will find her company a pleasant diversion, especially now that Eloise is feeling under the weather and will not be joining us. Your cousin is invited to attend the opera with Clara afterwards. This will leave us free to go to the Metropole for drinks and discuss this matter you deem so urgent. Shanley is at your disposal. Clara and I will ride to Baltimore with the Travers who will also join us for dinner. It was signed in Emmons’ usual scrawl.
Shanley hadn’t moved a muscle. His face remained impassive, his mouth formed a thin line, and his glasses mirrored expressionless eyes. Ulrich stopped what he was doing long enough to assess my reaction. Satisfied, he returned to work. Shanley broke the silence. “Mr. Emmons won’t need me this evening, sir. Are there any orders?”
“Yes, I shall be leaving here shortly to return to my apartments after which I’d like you to take me to the Cambridge Hotel.” Shanley acknowledged my instruction and retreated to a seat by the door to wait.
Ulrich’s gaze followed him. “Strange man,” he commented, then returned to the books.
I worried about the upcoming evening on my way home from the agency. Emmons request to invite Maureen was unexpected and created problems I hadn’t counted on. It was one thing to introduce her as my cousin, but something else to parade her in public. It was folly to have lied; in hindsight, I realized the difficulties it presented. I chided myself for not being firm, for not dealing with Maureen more directly. I should have insisted she return home immediately to Stonebridge.
My mind was plagued with these thoughts when I entered the apartments. Maureen stood, pen in hand, in the middle of the drawing room making a list of everything I owned. This wasn’t the Maureen of the previous evening. She wore a pretty yellow cotton dress covered by a clean, white apron. Her hair was no longer loose or shaggy, but piled high on her head with soft curls dangling at the nape of her neck. This gave her face length, her neck appearing longer, slimmer. She had added lip-gloss to emphasize her full lips and matched this with polished fingernails.
“What do you think?” she asked, twirling around in delight. “Your friend, Miss Linden, was so wonderful. She came by and took me to shops, the like I've never seen before or even knew existed. She said I could easily pass for your cousin now. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Astelle appears to have done well.” The flatness in my voice caused the joy to freeze on Maureen’s face.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Miss Linden said you’d be pleased. This was what you wanted.”
“Of course,” I added quickly. How could I explain to her that my foolishness to pass her off as my cousin had created an impossible predicament for us both? She was a simple country girl who would stand in wonder of Emmons, be charmed by the glitter and pomp of a privileged society.
In her naiveté she would underestimate him, not recognize him for the man he really was. He would see past her weak subterfuge and discover her true identity. The last thing I wanted was to have Maureen humiliated. Eileen would never forgive me.
Maureen was giving an account of the shops and salons she visited with Astelle. She had never seen so many people strolling along streets, riding about in hansom cabs and in city passenger cars. Children shopped with their parents and nannies pushed perambulators in the park. It was all so civilized.
“We’ve been asked to dine with Mr. Emmons, my employer, and his daughter this evening,” I stated cautiously. “You’ve been invited to attend the opera afterwards.” To my dismay, the announcement unnerved Maureen. She crumpled.
“I-I can’t...” she began. “I can’t possibly have dinner with clever, rich people. It’s different with you, Mas—Ellis. I’ve known you my whole life. I haven’t learned the proper manners. I’ll say all the wrong things, Think of the terrible trouble—I’ll let you down. Oh, what shall we do?” She began wringing her hands. “You’ll have to say I’m ill, the Baltimore air. Something—”
I would have liked nothing better than to claim Maureen was ill, but such an excuse could raise Emmons’ curiosity. Cause him to casually stop by my apartments for a drink. Maureen would be scrutinized. Any slip-up would lead him to presume I was passing her off as my cousin to hide the fact I had taken advantage of a simple servant girl, coerced her to be my mistress. Such an assumption would devastate Maureen. There was no way out.
“It’s too late to undo what we’ve done,” I said, feeling trapped, gripped in the vise of misfortune. “We’ll get through the evening somehow. We’ll manage.”
“I’ve put you in a terrible position,” Maureen said. “You and Miss Linden have been so good to me. I never expected anything like this to happen.”
“It’s my fault. I never should have mentioned you to Mr. Emmons. I did it out of courtesy, never thinking he would engage you in a meeting. We’re stuck with the situation.”
“What’ll we do?”
“Is that the only dress Astelle found for you?” I asked
Maureen smiled wanly. “Miss Linden bought me several ready-made gowns. She said her dressmaker could make more flattering garments, but there wasn’t time for that. She picked out three gowns for me, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before. I fretted over the cost, but she said not to worry.”
I praised Astelle silently for her foresight and generosity. “Please consider them a gift and wear one of them to dinner tonight.” I lifted her chin. “If mistakes are made, we’ll deal with them.”
I must have sounded convincing for she nodded her obedience.
A couple of hours later Maureen looked transformed in a rose-colored gown with a plunging neckline that emphasized her smooth young skin and full bosom. Again I was reminded of the miracle Astelle had worked. Maureen looked nothing like the desperate young servant who followed me to Baltimore. Not only did she look different, she seemed assured in her new clothes. She smiled warmly at Shanley when she offered him her gloved hand as she mounted the coach. A faint hint of appreciation entered the coachman’s dull eyes. I began to feel hopeful.
The Cambridge Hotel, a three-story white brick building with long windows, sat close to the harbor. The tastefully decorated upper floors were set aside for hotel residents. On the main floor beyond the marbled lobby, a wide corridor led to a large comfortable restaurant overlooking the waterfront. A concierge at the front entrance held the door open for us, and we walked beneath candlelit chandeliers to the restaurant entrance. The headwaiter bowed and showed us to Mr. Emmons' table that was set for six.
Maureen stiffened when I told her the Travers would also be joining us. Her eyes watered from nervousness, and she twiddled her thumbs in rapid succession. I explained calmly about the Travers, the fortune they derived from making steel tracks for the railroads, and their part ownership in the Union Railroad Company. They had five sons no daughters, all married and settled around the country. My words seemed to make Maureen even more nervous and I worried she would collapse under the strain.
“Evening, Ellis.” I heard Emmons’ voice before I saw him. I stood to shake his hand then kissed Clara on the cheek, her face even with mine. She smiled, displaying prominent front teeth. Mr. Travers' handshake was firm as usual, and Mrs. Travers smiled warmly.
I asked after Emmons’ wife and was about to introduce Maureen when Travers interjected, “Who is this ravishing young woman?”
“This is my cousin, Maureen,” I said, as he seated his wife. “She’s visiting from Ireland.”
“Indeed.” Travers took her gloved hand and touched it to his lips. “Delighted. I’m sure.” He took a seat beside Maureen and engaged her in conversation about railroad construction across the nation and tales of Indians and gunslingers. Maureen was reluctant to respond at first, but Travers captured her imagination, and her natural curiosity came to the fore. Her confidence grew and soon she was commenting shyly.
“Don’t believe everything William tells you, Maureen,” Mrs. Travers said, smiling at her husband. “He’s such an old fool.”
“Not so old,” William Travers reminded his wife and all three laughed.
I was grateful to Travers. He screened Maureen from Emmons. She fell into ease with him, answering questions about Ireland and that country’s difficulties. Mostly, she repeated what Eileen and Seamus discussed from the news they received from Ireland. Travers listened intently, stroked his white beard, and smoothed his thin white mustache.
His wife added to the conversation, talking about their sons and their sons’ families and how she wished they lived in Baltimore instead of being scattered all across the country. Her youngest son, John, was closest. He lived in Hagerstown.
Maureen avoided direct questions about the O'Donovan family, admitting only that she had a brother. I intervened at critical moments, deflecting such questions away from her without drawing notice.
Emmons was visibly relaxed. If his demeanor was any indication of how well things had gone in Louisiana and the potential for business there, then everything seemed favorable. He was enjoying the light conversation, interjecting comments now and then. I was grateful for this easy pace. He hardly paid any attention to Maureen since the Travers monopolized her company.
At first glance, Emmons was not the sort of man who attracted attention except that he was impeccably dressed. He employed only the best tailors to make his clothes. He was short and round with a balding head, chubby face and sagging jowls that sat almost on his neck. His main aptitude was a mind that could calculate columns of numbers at a glance and he could analyze economical and political trends with absolute certainty. Tonight, with no obvious business debates to come between him and excellent dining, he concentrated solely on his food and filled his round stomach with gusto. With each bite of lobster, gasps escaped him that sounded like murmurs of contentment, like a cat purring in its owner’s lap.
Clara sat beside me, her head moving from side to side so nothing escaped her. Small eyes darted round the table hardly missing an expression or a morsel of food. She was unfortunate in her looks. She did not inherit her father’s features, but took after her mother, which was no better fortune. Eloise was a tall, birdlike woman with brown wispy hair. A hairdresser had been employed to devote her talents to correct this problem. Emmons growled unceasingly about how much money his wife and daughter spent caring for their looks. He was disappointed that Eloise had produced only one child, and it had been a girl.
He confided on different occasions to Ulrich and me that finding a compatible suitor for Clara was an impossible task. With none forthcoming to seek his daughter’s hand, he looked hopefully to us for explanation. When we remained silent, he retreated grumbling.
Clara turned her eyes on me. “Ellis, you remember my birthday’s on Sunday? You’ll be at my party? And you must bring Maureen.”
“Sunday? I wouldn't miss it.” With Mother on my mind, I had forgotten all about Clara’s birthday party. I glanced helplessly at Maureen who returned a spirited grin.
Clara smiled enthusiastically at Maureen. “Say you’ll accompany us to the opera, Maureen. You’ll adore it. You can’t possibly miss it.”
“What do you think, Ma—er—Ellis?” Maureen turned crimson at the near blunder.
“You’ve had a rather long day—” I began.
“Nonsense,” William Travers broke in. “Mrs. Travers and I are attending the opera ourselves, and we insist that Clara and Maureen join us in our box.”
“Of course, they must,” Mrs. Travers agreed.
“We accept your invitation,” Clara said, before Maureen or I could protest.
“It’s settled then,” Travers announced. “I’ll escort the ladies to the opera.” He patted Maureen’s hand. “I’ll be the envy of every man with three beautiful women on my arm.” Clara gave a high-pitched giggle that took Maureen by surprise and she laughed. “No need to worry about this young lady, Ellis,” Travers said to me. “We’ll deliver her safely to your apartments afterwards.”
When we left the restaurant, Travers ushered the women toward his carriage like a shepherd herding his flock. Maureen tried to look reassuring as she gave me a parting peck on the cheek. I uttered a hurried warning to take care what she said. She nodded meekly.
There were few patrons at the Metropole when Emmons and I arrived. The stage was empty, too early yet for the girls and their routines. Some regulars were already established at the gaming tables, receiving individualized attention from the dealers. We claimed a table in a quiet corner and talked about minor matters throughout our first drink. When the second drink arrived, Emmons put his glass aside and leaned forward.
“You’ve been looking glum all evening, Ellis,” he said. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s Mother,” I said, pushing aside thoughts of Maureen and preparing myself for Emmons reaction. “She’s seriously ill. She wants me to take her back to Ireland—to die.”
“I see.” Emmons leaned back in his chair and digested this information. After a moment lost in thought, he bent forward. “It’s a foolhardy idea. You’ve refused, of course.”
“Yes, but she’s determined. She won’t budge in her decision.”
“And your brothers?”
“Not happy about it, but at a loss.”
“I see,” Emmons said again, and I wondered if he did. He had a practical outlook. Sentimentality had no place in his life.
“She expects you to oblige her request?”
“My brothers can’t leave their families, or the farm, for so long.”
“Tell her she can't go. You say she’s a sick woman. She's hardly in her right mind, after all.”
“I wish I knew how to stop her.”
“Insist, man. Demand it. You have commitments to your career.”
“The doctor says it’s the only thing keeping her alive. It’s hard to deny her—”
Emmons frowned. “Women are irrational most of the time. You must tell them what to do.”
“That won't work with Mother. When she makes a decision, it’s impossible to get her to change her mind.”
“Your father is to blame for letting her have her way too much. You’re considering this notion then?”
“Yes, but I’m still hoping to change her mind.”
Emmons stared ahead, his eyes cold. His opinion was obvious. I lacked control of the situation, the courage to forbid something as desperate as a dying request. “I expect you’ll be gone awhile if she persists,” he said, not too kindly.
“Just long enough to deposit her into my aunt’s care in Ireland.”
He gestured, waving his hand as if to brush Mother aside. “Do what’s necessary if you can’t overcome her resistance. Personally, I think you should tell her, no. But if you say you have no choice— Normally, I would find a temporary replacement in your absence, but since this is short term I think Ulrich can carry on minimally with a little extra coaching. How soon must you leave?”
“Right away.”
“Stay a week to instruct Ulrich and to bring me up to date.”
“That’s reasonable.”
Emmons went on to talk about his trip to Louisiana and all the great possibilities that awaited there. He was well into this topic when Ulrich arrived. Soon afterward Emmons excused himself briefly, and I informed Ulrich of my mother’s condition and her plea. He nodded sympathetically. It was easy to see he viewed the situation differently than Emmons. He was devoted to his family and would honor their wishes above all else. When Emmons rejoined us, the conversation turned to capital and revenue expenditures once more.
Toward the end of the discussion, Emmons announced he would curtail his visits to the South and spend more time at the agency during my absence. Even though this last trip had opened up new developments and opportunities, the business partners weren’t totally convinced of the invaluable cash benefit he had presented to them. His presence would give him ample opportunity to persuade them and much needed time to reassess business investments. With this decided upon, and other problems associated with my sabbatical resolved to his satisfaction, Emmons took his leave.
After Emmons left, I caught sight of Astelle talking to customers. She moved easily and gracefully, and men admired her openly. She had a gracious smile for each of them. They didn’t know her well enough to notice the little lines around her eyes, the thickening of her waistline, or how her full face hinted a double chin. They believed she was still a relatively young woman. But, in truth, she approached middle age.
She saw Emmons leave and came over. I introduced her to Ulrich. He took her outstretched hand and kissed it. Smiling, she led him to the cashier cage and offered him complimentary chips for the tables. Ulrich, who had never gambled before, looked to me for advice. “It’s a game of numbers just like finance,” I said. “Calculate the odds and you can’t lose.”
“Don’t break the House the way Ellis did on his first visit,” Astelle said. “He almost ruined my profits.” She laughed and linked her arms with Ulrich’s and mine as we strolled toward the gaming tables.
Astelle introduced Ulrich to the dealer at the craps table. While he concentrated on shooting dice, I told Astelle about Emmons’ invitation to dinner. “Maureen is so impressionable,” I said. “Emmons would have her for dessert if he knew her true identity. Luckily for us both, the Travers were there to save the day. They have my undying gratitude.”
Astelle placed her hand over mine. “Relax. Maureen is a courageous and engaging young woman. Besides, she’s been a keen observer of O’Donovan etiquette since she was a child. She’s clever enough to survive a casual dinner with Emmons. You’re behaving like an over-protective older brother.”
I followed Astelle upstairs soon after Ulrich admitted defeat at the gaming tables and departed. The business of customers was turned over to Rudy’s capable hands. As we lay in each other’s arms in the afterglow of lovemaking, I told her about my mother’s request. She looked sad when I talked about leaving and agreed with me that I had no choice but to oblige Mother's dying wish.
I slipped back into my apartments around dawn, tiptoeing carefully past Maureen's door on the way to my bedroom. I was awakened sometime later by the sound of singing. I stumbled to the kitchen to find Maureen none the worse for wear from the previous evening. She removed eggs and bacon from the hot stove onto a plate, then picked up another plate of freshly baked bread and followed me to the dining table. I looked groggily at the food she placed before me. I was in no mood for food but ate automatically. How could anyone have so much energy this early in the morning I wondered as she fussed around me, jabbering like a blue jay.
“You should have seen them, Mas—Ellis,” She said. “The costumes, so rich and colorful, and the stage so grand. And I’ve never heard voices so beautiful, so powerful yet so sad. It brought tears to my eyes. Mr. Travers said not everyone truly understands Le Nozze di Figaro. But if you get caught up in the sentiment and the singing, even though you don’t know the language, then you’ve learned to appreciate the art. I do, I did.
“People were marvelously dressed. Looked like kings and queens, they did. And Clara is not so bad really. She ponders too much about why God gave some women perfect features and others none. I told her it wasn’t perfect features that counted in the end. Clara said that's easy for me to say because I’m beautiful.” Maureen paused to see the effect of her last words.
I smiled my approval. “Haven’t I said so all along? Suitors will come galloping from all over to beg for your hand.” Maureen laughed a happy little laugh. She was radiant from the excitement of the previous evening. I wondered if, unwittingly, I had been cruel. If I had made a terrible mistake by allowing this simple country girl to taste the kind of world she could never be part of.
“Clara has a funny sense of humor at times,” Maureen continued. “And she’s not at all anxious to marry. But her parents are disappointed a beau hasn’t come forward and asked for her hand.”
She sighed. “Why must parents be so interfering?” Then dismissing the question, she picked up a notebook and became businesslike. “I’ve made several lists. One, of items you’ll absolutely need in Ireland, another, of items that should be stored in boxes so they don’t collect mold and dust while you’re away. A third list of how many dust covers you’ll need for furnishings, and lastly, a list of items you may want to take or leave behind.”
I took the notebook from Maureen and offered to study it. I told her that Astelle had invited her for afternoon tea at the Cambridge Hotel. Astelle had said there was no harm in spoiling the poor girl a little, particularly since she came to the city to escape the glum at Stonebridge House. I had agreed with her at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Maureen was delighted by the request and said that people in Baltimore were very kind. “Mrs. Travers asked me to accompany her on morning walks in the park. I told her it depended on your agenda. She is sending a driver around and if I’m unable to go, I am to let him know.”
“The movers won’t be here for two or three days.” I tried to think of a suitable excuse to keep Maureen occupied. Unable to come up with anything reasonable, I said. “If you’re really careful...”
She smiled. “Mrs. Travers can go on for ages about her children. She’ll never notice if I don’t say anything. She was so kind last night. I feel I should repay her.”
For all her defiance, it was easy to like Maureen. She had the same soft nature that reminded me of Eileen. Despite her fussiness when we were children, Eileen was ready with a hug or a word of encouragement when it was most needed. She made everything we said seem important, even managed to look serious when we went to her with our childish problems. Maureen had that same capacity. It was easy to see why people took to her.
Ulrich was already at the office when I arrived. His usual calm manner began to waver when I described some of the questions he would encounter when dealing with the business partners.
“It’s a huge responsibility explaining fiscal matters,” he said. “What if I answer incorrectly? I’m nervous just thinking about it.”
“Don’t worry. Their questions are standard, I’ll prepare you. Mr. Emmons can easily deal with the more difficult issues.” Ulrich smiled stiffly and ran his hand through straight blond hair. “After you study the facts you’ll feel better,” I said.
The day passed quickly and we worked well into the evening. When we parted ways, Ulrich’s confidence had begun to grow. At one point in the afternoon a telegraph boy delivered a telegram from Mother. The doctor had arrived at Stonebridge and was tending to her until her departure. She expected her affairs to be in order within a few days and asked how soon I was likely to return. She wanted me to be present with Dan and Mark when the terms of her will were announced in the presence of the lawyer. The decisiveness of her words made me realize the finality of recent events, leaving me overwhelmed. I replied that I must remain in Baltimore about a week.
When I returned to my apartments, I opened the door to the smell of delicious cooking. Maureen took my overcoat, and I laid my attaché case on the desk in the library. I made sniffing noises causing Maureen to giggle. “There’s potatoes and a ham on slow roast in a sweet sauce in the oven,” she said. “I bought fresh parsnips at the market, and there’s custard and rhubarb for dessert.”
“You’re amazing,” I said. Maureen beamed with pleasure.
“Mams says it’s important to eat well. The menu is one of Miss Linden’s favorites.”
“Miss Linden?”
“I asked her to join you for dinner. It’s all right, isn’t it?” Maureen looked suddenly alarmed.
“Yes, I’m just surprised she agreed.”
“Said she’d be delighted,” Maureen confirmed, happily.
I wondered why Astelle was breaking her number one rule which was never to visit a gentleman’s apartments. It started gossip, she said, and she wanted no part of that. She claimed it was more sensible to slip away to her apartments at the club; these were comfortable enough for any gentleman caller. In reality, Astelle feared becoming intimate enough with anyone to risk vulnerability. She had made an exception when she gave me a private key to her residence along with careful instructions for its use. To go against her wishes would mean an end to our friendship.
Maureen looked around the apartments for something to fluff or smooth. She straightened the candles on the dining room table, sighing at the lack of softness in this masculine existence.
“Did you know Miss Linden grew up in the country—in Ohio? On a farm?” she said, following me into the library. “She’s so cultured and has such grand manners. I wish I was like her.” She looked thoughtful. “You will stick to our agreement and find me a position?”
“Yes,” I said, deliberately picking up the newspaper and opening it.
Maureen retreated to the kitchen and I watched her leave over top of the printed headlines. This was the first time she had mentioned our arrangement since we arrived. I hoped that being away from Stonebridge, she would begin to miss it. If anything she seemed more determined to live in the city. I wondered how Seamus and Eileen would react to the news when we returned.
My mind drifted to Astelle and the facts she withheld from Maureen about herself. Like running away at an early age from a strict father turned abusive. He had been too lazy or drunk most of the time to cultivate what land her family owned. She had found her way to Cleveland, where she met Maurice Linden, the owner of a dancing hall and gambling club. Maurice recognized her talent and turned her into the best attraction the club ever had. He was thirty years her senior and saw a jewel in the making, so he married her. Astelle told me about his passing away years later, and how she missed him desperately. He was everything to her; family, friend, and lover.
After her grief subsided, she sold the business and looked to make a fresh start somewhere else. She chose to settle in Baltimore.
Astelle arrived looking beautiful as ever in a mauve dress that made her eyes seem the same color. Maureen greeted her, accepted her wrap, then tactfully left us alone. We sat in the drawing room sipping drinks while Maureen attended to dinner. When it was ready, she summoned us to the dining room and served us.
I sat across from Astelle, candlelight softening her skin so I could almost imagine her as a young girl.
“How are Dan and Mark?” she asked. “Their wives and children are well?”
“Yes. Your club seems busier than usual,” I said, not wanting to discuss my family or Stonebridge.
“It is,” she agreed. “Rudy thinks now would be a good time to sell it. He says we can take the proceeds and buy a farm, go back to small town living, and be respectable again.”
“You agree?”
“No! I’ll never go back to the country or anything that resembles that place I came from.”
“Is Rudy willing to stay?”
“I don’t know.” Astelle’s voice turned concerned. “He needs a wife. He’s been ready for a family for a long time. The years are passing. If he doesn’t marry soon, it’ll be too late.”
Privately, I wondered if Rudy thought the same about her; that she should remarry. She’d be more likely to find a suitor in a stable community instead of the owner of The Metropole. But Rudy was a man of few words who would never verbalize his concern.
Maureen’s pleasure showed when she appeared unsummoned to remove our plates and to serve dessert and coffee. We had managed to eat everything she set before us. She smiled broadly when Astelle complimented her and said few cooks compared to her.
After dinner we retired to the drawing room where Astelle commented casually, “These apartments are like you, Ellis, strong, masculine, and admirable. I’ll miss you...”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
She fidgeted with her dress. “Will you stay for Clara’s birthday party?”
“Yes, she insisted on it at dinner last night. I’d never hear the end of it from Emmons if I didn’t attend.”
“Jim Armstrong asked me to accompany him to the party.” She looked at me directly, her eyes holding mine.
“How’s Jim these days? Is he still in the steamship business?”
“Yes, expanding all the time.”
“Have you accepted his invitation?”
“Never. You know how the social class loathe me.” She smiled wryly. “I can imagine the gossip now.”
“They’re all wrong about you.”
“That doesn’t change who I am or what I do.”
She put her arms around my neck and brushed her lips softly against mine. “Ellis, tell me honestly, would you marry the likes of me?”
Taken aback, I didn't answer immediately.
“Jim Armstrong would,” she said.
The intensity in her voice caused me to stare hard at her. I saw longing in her eyes that I had never seen there before.
“Has he asked you to marry him?”
“No, but he’s very attentive, and lonely, ever since his wife died.”
“What are you saying, Astelle?”
“If you’re asking if I’m interested in him, I’m not. But it started me thinking. That’s all.”
“You know how much I treasure our friendship.”
“Enough to declare it openly?”
“You made the rules.”
“And they suit you perfectly.”
“Whatever is bothering you, now is the worst time for a serious conversation,” I said.
She withdrew her arms and stood back. In a calm voice she said, “The truth is often difficult to admit, Ellis.”
I pulled her back into my arms and brushed her forehead with my lips. “Wait until I return before pressing me about such promises.” She looked up at me and smiled sadly.
She departed soon afterward amid thanks and compliments. I helped her into the carriage, whispering in her ear that I would meet her at the club later. She nodded. Then the driver cracked the whip and guided the horses away from the curb. Maureen and I stood on the sidewalk waving until the carriage disappeared round the corner. Back inside the apartment we separated to our individual rooms after talking over the next day’s plan.
When I thought Maureen was asleep, I slipped out quietly and joined Astelle at the club. I had expected her to bring up our earlier conversation, but instead she ignored it like it had never occurred. When we retired to her apartments, the mood surrounding our lovemaking became nostalgic; our embraces more intense. As we lay in each other’s arms, I mused how our affair had deepened over time. Admittedly, I had admired her the first moment we met, but soon afterward I discovered her strong character and found it liberating. As our acquaintance grew, our mutual need fueled by our strong attraction for each other, demanded satisfaction. On my first visit to her apartments, she insisted that I respect her wishes, that our arrangement should never be mentioned in public. It was strictly between us. She maintained we should enjoy each other’s company for as long as we both favored it, but not to expect permanence. Now, I wondered if she had broken her cardinal rule and had grown attached. I decided to probe what lay beneath her insecurity.
“Astelle, have you ever considered remarrying?” I asked, pulling her closer.
She laughed, and touched my cheek. “No—never.”
I stared at her uncomprehending. Her gaze never wavered. “I mean it. I don’t know what came over me earlier this evening. I suspect it was a twitch of self-pity prompted by the realization that no matter how wealthy I am, I’ll never be accepted in certain social circles. It’s tiresome being treated like you’re inferior.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong. People admire you, even if they don’t understand your world any more than you understand theirs. You’ve said numerous times that supercilious socialites bore you. Have you changed your mind?”
“No, of course not.” She smiled up at me. “I shouldn’t have been so direct. It was unfair to our arrangement.”
“You know, I’d never dishonor you.”
She got out of bed, pulled on her robe, walked to the window, and stared outside. “I know,” she said, her back to me. “I was hitched once—had the devotion of a very special man. But I favor my own person now. I’ve wanted it that way ever since Maurice died.”
I suppressed a long sigh of relief.
The next four days followed a set pattern. I found I really did need Maureen’s help. She organized the movers and made sure boxes were labeled correctly. They were to be transported to a depot in New York where they would remain until I boarded ship. As Clara’s party approached, the apartments took on a deserted look, as if I had already left. I telegraphed Stonebridge and told Mother to have Seamus meet us at the railway station in Hagerstown early Tuesday afternoon.