by Robyn Carr
Patricia was not seen publicly during the opening because of her advanced pregnancy. Lilly did not admit to any member of her family that she was relieved not to have to endure Patricia’s presence among so many prestigious guests.
Patricia delivered a daughter, Katherine Amanda Montaine, on the first of December. Emily moved into the Montaine house for the entire month to try to coax her daughter into becoming a good mother. Emily had a powerful hand when it came to creating a home; she pulled open draperies, lit lamps, and had cozy, welcoming fires blazing in every hearth; she brought out her recipes and covered the table with good food. The Montaine mansion had been a house full of closed doors, each member of the family and staff hiding his or her unhappiness in a study, bedroom, or sitting room. Emily opened doors, made rooms cheerful, and praised all those she met for attributes they hardly knew they possessed.
She re-created the home she had known as a child, a home filled with not only love and laughter, but tolerance and mutual respect. Rather than avoiding the residents, she sought out each one. She ignored Wilson’s terrible table manners and asked him questions he was pleased to answer, about his childhood, his businesses, his travels. She taught Deanna to sew, encouraged Dale to hold his child.
“Despite your many complaints, Patricia, I don’t find this place to be the terrible dungeon you’ve described,” Emily said, contentedly rocking her granddaughter, the hotel far away from her as she mended fences with the Montaines.
“They are on their best behavior,” Patricia sulked.
“But what is wrong with this family? How is Wilson any more trouble than Mrs. Fairchild ever was?”
“Oh, Mother, he’s smelly and arrogant!”
“He’s quite taken with the baby and generous with his money. I suppose he’s proud of what he’s accomplished, which is understandable. He even asked very nicely if he could hold Katherine. And for a man like Wilson, who doesn’t bother much with manners or--”
“When you leave, he’ll act like a mule again. He hasn’t had a single fight with Deanna since you arrived!”
“Dale has been a gentleman, and--”
“Mother, don’t be naive! He is always sober when his father is here. He’s afraid of being disinherited if he creates too much trouble!”
“And Deanna, poor thing, is only lonely. I spent a large part of the afternoon with her and--”
“She is terrible. She tipples all day and all night and--”
It seemed to Emily that Patricia could not be convinced of any virtue among them. While Emily couldn’t say she would choose any of these people for close personal friends, it was obvious Patricia could be more effective in her relations with them if she could only learn to sense their needs, understand each character, as Emily had learned to do when operating a boardinghouse. Wilson blustered, but was civil in her company because Emily’s behavior was not only decorous, but invited decorum. She did not respond to the old devil’s ranting, but faced him calmly and without judgment. She gently disregarded his worst habits. Dale was sullen but polite, and Emily found that he responded to praise as well as any man. She thought he had the potential to be charming and even productive, given the least amount of encouragement and affection from his father and others in his family. Wilson criticized him, Deanna avoided him, but Patricia was the worst--she actually sneered at her husband, the father of her child. And Deanna didn’t tipple at all when she had someone to talk to. Andrew Devon, who happened by once to view the new addition to the family, was as pleasant a young man as Emily had ever met. However unfortunate, there was good reason Wilson favored Andrew over his own son.
Because Patricia was confined and because Emily saw more potential in the Montaine household than anyone else had, Emily had a talk with her mother. Amanda consented to participate in a quiet Christmas in their old family home, an event that would unite the Montaines and Amanda’s family. “This is the last thing I ever thought I would do,” she groused.
“Come now, Mother, like it or not, we’re all family now. It’s time for forgiveness and charity--perhaps something can be salvaged. I’m actually beginning to enjoy some of these people. Why, when you encourage any one of them the least, each one can be quite dear.”
“Humph,” Amanda returned, “each one except our very own.”
Lilly had become even more serious, but it seemed reasonable she would be. The hotel was not a quaint hobby, but an enormous obligation. She behaved like a professional spinster, long before her time. Only her grandmother, mother, and Fletcher knew that she had been more quiet than usual since the sudden appearance of her father. But no one knew that one of the chief reasons she was solemn could be attributed to her anxiety over the prospect of seeing Andrew Devon for the first time in at least a year.
Christmas dinner came and went without him; no place had been set. She could hardly contain her disappointment, but the fuss around little Katherine kept the worst of it under control. Patricia was in her element because she was being indulged and praised in her new status of motherhood. But a wet nurse had to be found; Patricia was unable or unwilling to nurse her own child.
The sun was going down in the sky on Christmas day when Andrew arrived, carrying packages for every member of the extended family. For Amanda, he had a broach from India, carved from the finest ivory; for Emily, a silver tea service; for Wilson, a terrible looking pipe that made everyone laugh; for Dale, a watch chain; for Lilly, a gold-plated fountain pen; for Katherine, an engraved silver cup.
There were gifts for Andrew and Brenda, but Brenda had been unable to join him. Lilly noticed that Andrew had become haggard, thinner. She tried to hide the fact that she saw this, but the urge to reach out to him was strong. She was afraid he had become ill.
After sharing a late evening libation with everyone, he excused himself. When the question was on Lilly’s lips, Amanda preempted her. “Wilson, what is the matter with that young man? He looks dreadful!”
“You hadn’t heard? His wife is ill.”
“My goodness, no! We’ll have to call on her,” Emily said.
“That’s not a good idea, Mrs. Armstrong,” Dale cut in. “She’s not exactly sick, but rather off her rocker.”
“What?” Lilly asked.
“Mad as a hoot, Lilly,” Dale said. “Her mother died last year, and Brenda hasn’t recovered.”
“Oh, Wilson,” Emily said, concern for everyone and everything ever being her focus. “How terrible for him. What can be done?”
“As long as he is unwilling to have her confined, not much. It’s going to kill him before long. He hasn’t confided a thing to me except that Brenda is indisposed, the servants can tell a tale or two that’s interesting. Word is that unless she’s given a goodly supply of laudanum, she’s up stomping around creating disturbances all through the night--seeing her mother and hearing voices. You can see the boy hasn’t had much sleep lately.”
“He isn’t a boy, Father,” Dale said, jealous and miffed.
“He ought to do something with her, that’s what,” Wilson went on. “But he’s so damned private in his affairs--won’t open up about her. I’ve had to find out on my own. Had to know what was starting to keep him from working. Never known the boy to neglect work before.”
“Oh no,” Dale said sarcastically, “Lord knows Andy loves work as much as you, Father.”
“Ahem, yes, well, as I wish you did, son.”
“Dale loves gin,” Patricia muttered under her breath so that only Dale and Emily heard. He shot her an angry glare, which she returned in kind. Emily sighed wearily. The battle between them raged on and could be attributed in equal parts to each.
“Wilson, what if I called on them?” Emily offered. “What if Deanna and I went together to their home, visited, and tried to convince Andrew to get some special help for her?”
Despite the fact that Lilly was consumed with sudden worry for Andrew’s well-being, she could not help but notice the effect her mother had on this household. It could be her old boardin
ghouse, filled with people who had special needs that Emily could sense, reach. Deanna’s face brightened hopefully, as if she could be useful to someone at long last. Wilson’s harsh, wild appearance softened into a dear, St. Nicholas face as he smiled and nodded toward Emily, thanking her softly and kindly for her concern. Even Dale, comfortable sitting beside Emily, the only person who found redeeming qualities in him, reached across a short distance to stick his finger in his baby daughter’s fist. Emily passed the infant to her father, saying, “Be useful, Dale, and rock her for a while. She loves it so when you hold her.”
When Lilly and Amanda rode together back to the Armstrong Arms, Lilly had a great deal on her mind. She wouldn’t be discussing Andrew with anyone, of course. But what she had seen her mother do intrigued and fascinated her.
“Do you see what she does, Grandmother? Mother heals people with kindness. Before your very eyes.”
Amanda smiled kindly, wistfully. “She has Richard’s caring, generosity, and charity. Good Lord! Don’t give her any extra money! She’ll scatter it well!”
“Was my grandfather like that?”
“What a tender heart, Lilly! He could not be convinced to stop. His only reason for trying to preserve our money was so that he could be charitable!”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Gran,” Lilly said. “Mother has a line of hungry, jobless men forming at the back of the Nesbitt House.”
“Oh dear God!”
“You didn’t know? She has given Sophia the strictest orders that if there’s anything to spare, they will be given food.”
“Lilly! The guests won’t tolerate it!”
“Never mind that. Can Mother help them? Is it possible that just by being in the Montaine household for a while, things might change for the better?”
“Well, love, I--”
“She can! Don’t tell me otherwise. She can. It’s what she is. Oh, it’s all so evident, suddenly! Who we are! Why, Mother’s naturally so good and generous, so tolerant of people’s quirks and so understanding of what they need! Why, she’ll be perfect in the Arms. She’s always been perfect at taking care of people. Small wonder she spent so many years trying to get Patricia and me to understand hard work, propriety, and generosity! They worked for her. And you--”
“Be careful, Lilly--”
Lilly laughed. “Well, you are a bit bossy, but easy enough to tolerate when you have your grip on fortune. As long as you never have to answer to anyone, you’re quite tractable. And what about Patricia? What is her special force?”
“Would that I knew, dear…”
“It seems to me that if we could get her a position as a princess…She played princess all the while we were growing up. All she has ever really wanted is to sit on a throne and be worshiped. If I could think of what would make her finally, completely content, I would get it for her, no matter what the cost. How simple it all becomes! You are happy with power and control. Mama is made happy by good works. Patricia is made happy by being indulged and admired!”
Amanda chuckled in spite of herself. “And you, darling?”
“Oh,” she said quietly, “there’s a lot I have left to do. And plenty of time to do it in, I suppose.”
“You might give another look to the gents, dear.”
“I have you and Mama and the Arms. That should keep me busy and content for some time to come.”
Amanda reached across the coach and grasped Lilly’s hand. “Lilly, work is good and important, but life must be filled with many things. You’re too determined to be alone. I don’t think you’ve left any room for pleasure.”
“But I have great pleasure in my--”
“You won’t have us forever, your mother and me. In a way difficult to express, we’re all different from you, Lilly. We were created by men. For some reason you were not. My father and husbands formed my character, my mother taught me that a woman’s life had to do with a man. I was raised to please men and be pleased by them. My greatest rebellion was to attempt to be in control of my own money--quite late, I admit.
“And your mother, bless her heart, is Richard’s daughter indeed…and the part of her that added hard work and fierce independence to that generous spirit was contributed by that beast, Ned. Patricia can’t seem to help being as selfish as her father was, and the moment a young man noticed her, she decided her womanhood was only useful as far as it could get from men what would serve her selfish whims. But you--”
“I am no different from the rest of you…in one way or another…”
“You are different, Lilly. I don’t know how it happened, where you got your will, your spirit. Not from me--I was never around to influence you. Not from Emily, she worked to be a good mother and keep you fed. If you have anything of hers, it’s that determination you don’t need a man for anything. There was never a man in your life to create you. You’re the only young woman I have ever met who won’t compromise. Sometimes that worries me, Lilly. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“Grandmother,” Lilly began, her mind elsewhere, “I have a very important question.”
Amanda made a face. Lilly had not been paying attention. “What is it? And make sure it’s not as expensive as your last important question.”
“Will you please approve Fletcher telling me whatever is found out about my father?”
“Oh, Lilly, we’ve been over all that--”
“Grandmother, please? There are certain things a woman must feel she’s actually finished. Do you understand?”
Amanda grimaced unpleasantly. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “No promises.”
“Oh thank you, Grandmother!”
“Stop thanking me before I’ve consented to anything!” Amanda virtually shouted, stamping her cane on the floor of the coach for emphasis. “I’m tired of being understood so well!”
The Armstrong Arms received its guests in a style unique and exclusive. Lady Nesbitt, the best hostess in Philadelphia, was seen in the large, marble foyer of the hotel every afternoon at four. There she would hold court in a manner only she could effect. The fine old families began to regard her as a noble dowager rich and refined; this business of a hotel was simply a means for her to occupy her days and allow her to entertain her guests more lavishly. At a time when working women were thought to be either sadly reduced to employment or of questionable character for actually seeking work, Amanda became known as clever enough to do something unusual with her time in her declining years. Goodwill followed Amanda; she was not thought foolish for refusing to discriminate among new money, old money, or lucky money but was regarded as gracious. She had had ups and downs; through the loss of her husband and family fortune she had kept her dignity and remained within the aristocracy through her subsequent marriages. She did nothing to invite envy and everything to provide elegance. She was not associated with anything so base as earning money. The Armstrong Arms, named for her granddaughter, made her appear sentimental and was regarded as Amanda’s new home. No one ever suspected it was not her idea from the first.
Lady Nesbitt knew how to please each guest; her social training was of the highest order. She knew when a wealthy patron required some special treatment, ranging from exclusive privacy and catering to a formal gathering in one of her dining rooms, ballrooms, parlors, galleries, or, in the warmer months, the parks and gazebos. She held receptions for artists, teas for poets, dinners for politicians. She could bring couturieres with their designs from as far away as New York and supply fittings for fussy ladies. She could sense the time for a concert and whether it should be a formal evening affair or an outdoor soiree. The Arms could manage anything from fox hunts to nuptial suites. And since Amanda didn’t dirty her hands but simply snapped her fingers to bring an eager-to-please staff of chasseurs in gold braid and brass buttons to heel, it appeared that she was only doing what she’d always done so well--entertaining guests. In no time at all, if a guest couldn’t gain the notice of Lady Nesbitt and have her hotel scampering to pleas
e, that guest was no one. The whole operation was considered a mere extension of society--society being a chiefly feminine achievement.
Emily Armstrong was much more a working woman, but in a special way that was Emily’s alone and had nothing to do with society. The unspoken needs of guests could be answered with her warmth. She knew by instinct when the wife of a resident was lonely and needed diversion while her husband was working or riding. She could select the right personal maid to help dress hair or press gowns before a woman thought to ask. She could supply old matrons with a surprise visit and catered tea, admired children of all ages, and knew exactly when some sweet pastry would perk a lolling spirit. Emily knew whom to introduce to whom so that friendships would form, just as she knew when furniture should be moved around to provide some special form of comfort like a wider or lower bed. Although Emily had a fine Parisian chef at her disposal and a large kitchen staff, it was her face in the dining room and sometimes in the halls that gave guests a sense of comfort, home, and security. They came to the Arms looking for luxurious accommodations, but it was Emily’s patience and sincerity that left them feeling nurtured at their departure.
Lilly’s sharp mind might have been the seed from which the building and opening of the hotel grew, her uncanny insight the impetus that placed the older women in their most suitable roles, but she was taking on an identity new, different, and somewhat distant from what was understood by the people of her era. Lilly, twenty-two years old in the spring of ‘81, was not credited for her brilliance or hard work. She was, however, greatly admired.
Never one to worry over how others viewed her, Lilly did not hurry to correct assumptions or explain herself to anyone. She could frequently be seen descending the wide, open staircase into the foyer of the hotel to stand beside her grandmother while guests were arriving or leaving. She was often found walking with her mother through the wide hotel halls or offering good evening or good morning in the dining room. She was available to preside over parties, receptions, or formal dinners with her family. Aloof and self-assured, her preference for clothing that provided a slim silhouette, all bearing the labels of famous designers like Worth and far more elegant than fluffs and ruffles, began to set a standard for fashion. The wide, flouncy skirts and large bustles were never pleasant to Lilly, and she eagerly opted for the sleek lines, clean designs of the Aesthetes and dress reformers. Her posture was always excellent, and she was not self-conscious because of her height. Her eyes were clear and decisive, and she never fluttered her lashes. She was not shy, but not showy. There appeared to be a kind of serenity and control about her that presented the image of a new kind of woman to society. Failing to understand her type, most of the visitors to the Arms thought of her as a serious and responsible heiress to the vast and prestigious hotel. No one ever considered that she preferred work to play; rather all believed that she was a loyal granddaughter who took grave interest in her legacy. Lilly developed a reputation as a young woman who could defy tradition in style. And the men who passed through her doors were not blind to her many assets.