Chapter Seven

The gathering at the Meadows Club proved far different than anything Tessa expected. She’d thought it would be a rather fashionable affair, a tea at which those engaged in philanthropy—mostly ladies—discussed their efforts and exchanged fundraising ideas.

Indeed, some such ladies did prove to be in attendance, matrons clad in expensive clothes who gathered in clutches like hens; younger women, pale and elegant, who put Tessa’s attire to shame.

But another element attended also, a well-represented, rougher form of Buffalo’s society—women in shabby shawls and men with scuffed work boots and keen eyes.

Tessa, who’d never before done anything like this on her own, felt intimidated even before the whispers started.

Well, she told herself as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, they probably all know one another and they’re catching up on news. Normal enough, yet a certain furtive quality in the low-voiced discussions and the way all eyes turned to her told Tessa the truth.

They whispered about her.

It started among the hens on one side and spread quickly, catching the attention of Mrs. Wright, the hostess, who quickly headed over with her hands outstretched.

“Welcome! Welcome to The Meadows.”

Tessa focused on her gratefully. Mrs. Wright had well-coifed white hair and kind eyes. The hue of her peach-colored gown picked up the color in her cheeks.

“You must be Mrs. Carter, yes?”

Ah, so that was it; they knew who she was: Mitch Carter’s wife. Word had got around. He, and not she, was infamous.

Indeed, her ears—sharper at the moment than she liked—caught a whisper from the side, “King of Prospect Avenue.”

And another, “Certainly no better than she should be.”

She flushed in mortification. She wanted to flee, walk right back out of there away from all the staring eyes. But her hands lay trapped between Mrs. Wright’s, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a scene.

“Yes,” she admitted unhappily. “I’m Tessa Carter. I thought I’d attend the meeting today and…well, I’ve been thinking of taking up some good works and wasn’t sure what will suit.”

Compassion flooded Mrs. Wright’s eyes. “This is an excellent place to start, and we’re very glad to have you.”

She tucked Tessa’s arm beneath hers. “Let me introduce you to a few people.” She began towing Tessa away from the center of the floor, adding in a whisper of her own, “And don’t pay any attention, my dear, to those loose tongues. They think charity is a social event and exercise their small minds accordingly.”

“It isn’t? A social event, I mean.”

“Oh, my goodness, no. It’s hard work.”

Tessa nodded. All too aware she—and Mrs. Wright—remained the center of all eyes, she let herself be led.

“In what sort of endeavor are you interested, Mrs. Carter?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. It’s why I came. I thought…”

“Very wise. There are so many worthy causes. Topaz Gideon—the woman there in the red gown—helps get girls of the night off the streets and into a better life.”

Mrs. Gideon, who stood with a number of other people, took Tessa’s breath away. Not a small woman by any means, she carried her height and extra weight with a bold confidence that declared her stature. Black hair, dangling earrings, and a pair of amber-colored eyes all added to her exotic air.

She stood next to a couple; the man—tall and strapping—wore the uniform of a Buffalo police officer; the woman, almost nondescript and with soft brown hair, clung to his side.

All three of them smiled when Mrs. Wright led Tessa up and made introductions.

“Glad to meet you,” said Topaz Gideon, with a fierce stare.

The police officer held out his hand. “Patrick Kelly. And this is my wife, Rose.”

Her fingers engulfed in his large ones, Tessa managed to murmur, “Pleased.” Kelly had eyes as green as her own.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kelly are engaged in the fight for automaton rights.”

“Oh? How—how interesting.”

“We always welcome new members,” said Mrs. Kelly, also kindly.

Mr. Kelly inclined his head. “And do not worry about the gossip. People always talk about us, do they not, my love?” He clasped his wife’s hand. “You see,” he confided to Tessa, “I am a hybrid automaton. My wife is human.”

“Truly?” Tessa couldn’t help but stare. “I’d never have been able to tell.” Though now that he’d identified himself, she could hear something a bit odd about his voice.

“It’s true,” Kelly assured her. He thumped his barrel chest and emitted a soft, grinding sound. “Steam powered.”

“Uh—”

“You must meet the Michaels,” said Mrs. Kelly. “Lily Michaels is also a hybrid automaton—there, that’s her in the aqua-colored dress.”

Tessa, who’d just begun to relax marginally, turned her gaze where indicated and caught her breath. Mrs. Michaels stood speaking with a burly, brown-haired man; she looked exquisite and utterly human.

“My goodness,” Tessa breathed.

Mrs. Gideon gave her another smile, this one rueful. “Not all the company here consists of chattering magpies. There’s a lot of work to be done in this city, Mrs. Carter, and some of us don’t care where you—or your husband—started life. We’ll fight among ourselves for your time and your dollars, even though we’re all friends.”

“Well,” Tessa said, “I’m not at all sure…that is, I only came to test the waters, so to speak. I understand there are a lot of worthy causes in which to invest.”

“That is true,” Kelly agreed. “My friend over there, James Kilter—you see him, with the tiny woman who’s expecting a child—founded the Buffalo Animal Sanctuary and is affiliated with the Anti-Cruelty League.”

Tessa once more looked where indicated, then tried not to stare; James Kilter had in essence only half a face, if a handsome half—the other side of his countenance, constructed of what looked like scar tissue, might well appear in a nightmare. The heavily pregnant woman on his arm didn’t seem to notice.

“The Michaels,” Kelly went on, “while understandably interested in automaton rights, are also concerned with the plight of the city’s orphans. Or you might choose to help the elderly. Come, allow me to introduce you.”

Tessa moved off, escorted by the automaton whose arm felt disconcertingly natural beneath her fingers.

She liked the Michaels immediately, felt reassured by Rey’s level brown stare and utterly charmed by Lily’s open guilelessness. She found herself thinking she could be friends with such a woman.

Only she wasn’t a woman.

“Don’t let yourself be thrown off stride by that lot,” Rey advised, nodding at the gossipers on the other side of the room. “They’ll talk about anyone. They talk about us, don’t they, Lil?”

“Yes, Rey.” Lily Michaels sent her husband an adoring glance. “I am assured it goes with the territory.” She laid her hand on Tessa’s arm and leaned closer. “Do you think I look human?”

“Very much so.”

“Thank you, but I am not. Like my good friend Patrick, I run on coal and steam. Oh, Mrs. Carter, you must sit with us. The lectures are about to begin.”

“Lectures?”

Rey Michaels made a face. “Folks get up and spout off about their latest projects, hoping to win supporters.”

“I see. I would like very much to sit with you.”

“Good. Rey, let us find seats together before they are all taken.”

The afternoon went much as Rey Michaels predicted. First Mrs. Wright spoke, and one by one various others rose and outlined their programs.

The man with the scarred face spoke about getting cart horses off the streets, saying the city had lost no fewer than five in the heat last summer and many others suffered gross mistreatment. “No need for them anymore, given the rise in steamcabs,” he concluded. “And no animal should be a slave.”

Mrs. Gideon went next, describing with frank speech the plight of prostitutes, especially in the poorer districts. Tessa learned she ran a home called the Haven for Disadvantaged Women, where girls could go for help, leaving the life and instead training for other jobs.

Lily Michaels squeezed Tessa’s hand and gave her a look from wide blue eyes.

“I stayed there once,” she confided softly.

“Oh?”

“I was a prostitute back then. At the Crystal Palace.”

“Of course.” Pieces clicked into place in Tessa’s mind. “You must have been one of the—”

“Mechanical whores. Now I am Rey’s wife.” She stated it proudly, as if she could conceive of no higher place in life. Some wives, it seemed, were more fortunate than others.

The briefings went on.

At last, Lily rose and walked to the front. Rey leaned over and said, “She does all the speeches—I’m not good at public things. But she’s very good.”

So she was—direct, earnest, and sweet. As Tessa listened, her heart responded. Lily spoke of the children in the city, the orphans who, through no fault of their own, found themselves without a single relative to care for them.

“As many of you know, my husband Rey and I are in the process of trying to adopt. I believe anyone who can, should. But many of these children will never be adopted. There simply are not enough families. We must improve conditions at the orphanages and children’s homes. No one should live the way these little ones do. I suggest we introduce legislation to improve the institutions. Meanwhile we must make our presences felt—let the administrators of these hell holes know we are watching them and that we see the atrocities.”

Tessa glanced at Rey, who glowed with pride. “Are conditions in those places really so bad?” she whispered.

“Yes, Mrs. Carter. As part of my job, I’ve been inside. It would break your heart.”

“And you’re adopting?”

“If they’ll let us.” He hesitated. “You see, with my wife not being human…”

“Seems like she’s more human than most people I’ve met.”

His brown eyes warmed. “You should come on a tour with us sometime.”

Tessa nodded. Lily returned, slipped into her seat, and put her hand into Rey’s.

“Did I do well, husband?”

“You were wonderful.” He raised her hand to his lips.

A gesture of love. Tessa started, remembering her husband performing the same gesture earlier.

Love, or possession?