by Maya Rodale
The landlord found this suitable reason to terminate the lease.
And so Daisy and Theo stood before the empty storefront where their shop used to be. The contents had been confiscated. Heaven forbid such dangerous and lethal products as ladies’ toilet preparations be available for purchase.
Dr. Swan’s Apothecary was gone. And with it, their sole means of supporting themselves.
“It’s not too late for you to join your mother in Europe, Daisy. I’m sure you could launch the business in Paris without any troubles.”
“I could go this evening,” Daisy agreed.
“Paris is lovely this time of year,” Theo remarked.
“But it’s not New York.” Daisy sighed. The truth of this merited a moment of silence. She and Theo and Dr. Swan belonged in New York City, a place for schemers and dreamers. Once one fell under the thrall of New York, no other city would do. Not even Paris.
Daisy was prepared to do battle for her right to stay—on her terms.
“Daisy, I’m so sorry. This has to be my father’s doing.” Theo paused before continuing. “He swore that he wouldn’t let me embarrass the Prescott name with a business like ours. If I had just quit and gone to Prescott Steel . . . or if I hadn’t taunted him . . . It’s my father’s doing, but it’s my fault.”
“No, Theo. One might say it’s all my fault. I brought you into this mad scheme. I’m just sorry that he can’t appreciate your talent. And my genius. And what we achieved together.”
Right there on the busy street, Theo clasped her hand and squeezed. Right where anyone could see. There were definitely perks to having one’s reputation being in tatters; one could hold hands in public with a handsome man and just enjoy it.
As much as one could enjoy a romantic moment while standing before the wreckage of one’s destroyed hopes and dreams.
“You stayed for me. For us. For this.” Theo gestured at the empty storefront. Their sign had been hastily boarded over. It hurt to look at. She glanced up at him and Theo turned to face her. He gazed deeply into her eyes.
“Daisy, I promise to you that I am going to make this a success so that when I propose marriage, you have a choice.” Her lips parted. She hadn’t expected this. “I love you. And I will marry you in an instant for protection or reputation if you just say the word. But I have some notion of you saying yes with your whole heart and being able to afford to say no. And I will do everything in my power to make sure you truly have a choice.”
Her heart was thundering even though she was standing still.
Theodore Prescott the Third was somewhat proposing and it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. And all she could think of to say was . . .
“Oh, Theo . . .” She sighed. “And just to be clear, that’s oh, Theo in a good way. You’ve left me speechless.”
Right there on the busy street, in the shadow of their former shop, he laughed. Because it was him and her and they were in love. Not even Theodore Prescott the Second and the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice could stop it.
“Paris is lovely this time of year,” Theo said.
“You sound like you have an idea.”
“We go to Paris. Reopen a shop as Madame Swan’s. The Parisians are so much more . . . open. It won’t be long before we’re more successful than we’ve ever imagined.”
Daisy didn’t answer right away because she was giving the matter serious consideration. As much as one could amidst the bustle of Union Square. Paris was beautiful. The French would certainly embrace Madame Swan. Her scandalous reputation wouldn’t follow them. She and Theo would be together. Who knew what kind of happiness they could make?
But . . .
“You’re not going to let him win, are you?” Daisy burst out. “We can’t let him win.”
“It’s not like that . . .”
“It’s one hundred percent like that,” she said. “You have threatened his dominance so he must reassert it. You have challenged his pride and so he has to crush yours. Well, I won’t tolerate it and neither should you.”
“Think practically, Daisy. He is wealthy and powerful—so much so that even your father’s fraud can’t bring him down completely. He just said a word and our business is gone. He can still afford to stop at nothing to make sure I don’t embarrass the family name. He has all the power to get what he wishes.”
“Except he doesn’t,” Daisy said impatiently. She felt a grin tugging at her lips because she had an idea. She would not relinquish her dream, her lover, or her city. “What he refuses to see will be how we succeed.”
“What are you talking about?” Theo, bless him, was so good-looking even when he was so clearly confused.
“What is your father oblivious to? What is beneath his notice? Who will he refuse to do business with? What is our secret weapon that your father can’t control?”
Theo stared at her blankly and she thought maybe he was just a pretty face. Except she knew better. And she had an idea. And he trusted her.
“Women, Theo. Women!”
Moments later
25 West Tenth Street
Theo had no more urgent and pressing business at that moment besides following Daisy on an errand she refused to explain. She led the way to an unremarkable town house a few blocks south of their shop. After a brief knock, the butler opened the door, took one look at the two of them, and said, “I’ll see if Miss Burnett is at home.”
“Thank you, Hollis. I appreciate it.”
Theo deduced that this was the home of Miss Harriet Burnett, one of Daisy’s friends who had joined them at the theater to give the appearance of chaperoning them. He racked his brain trying to think of what he knew of her, which was very little. She was one of the women who never sought out his attentions and so he hadn’t paid much attention to her.
“My friend Miss Burnett has graciously offered me a place to stay while I am still in between residences,” Daisy said. He had wondered, but she had assured him her accommodations were secured.
“She is a good friend to you,” he said.
“She is an excellent friend to me and many women.”
The butler returned. “The ladies will see you now.”
And just like that the doors to the drawing room were opened to reveal a smattering of women, some of whom he recognized and many whom he did not. They all sat in a circle while some sipped tea, or sewed things, or leafed through Bibles open on their laps.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt like this,” Daisy said.
“It’s just a little gathering of the Charitable Ladies’ Auxiliary Club,” Harriet said with a smile. “Is everything all right?”
Daisy sat right down and poured herself a cup of tea. Theo stood uncertainly behind her and all the ladies.
“No. We need help. Allow me to explain.”
Daisy told them about her father’s scandal, which everyone already knew all about. She apologized for it. Then she told them about his father’s underhanded, behind-the-scenes scheme to ruin their prospects together by ruining their business.
Daisy commanded their rapt attention. They all spared him the occasional glance. He felt . . . ornamental. Superfluous.
But also very curious.
Because Daisy said she had a plan and thus far her plans had been good ones. If they needed to enlist the Charitable Ladies’ Auxiliary Club, that was fine with him. Whatever it took for him to be able to propose to her.
“Prescott Senior has the whole town under his thumb, as we can surmise,” Daisy continued. “What he doesn’t have is us. If we can rally the women . . . If we can promote it in places he won’t think to look . . . If we can operate beneath his notice, literally and figuratively . . .”
“Then we have a chance,” Theo said as he realized what she was plotting. “A fighting chance.”
“I like that,” one woman said. “Taking the town by storm, right under his nose.”
“I would take some delight in that.”
“Excuse me,” Miss Ava Lu
mley interrupted. “Are we going to talk about the fact that Theodore Prescott the Third is here?”
“He is my business partner,” Daisy said. “That’s the only reason I brought him.”
“The only reason?” Miss Lumley persisted.
“And . . . possibly more than just her business partner,” Theo added. It seemed like what they wanted to hear and it was the truth.
“I thought the wedding was off,” Miss Burnett said.
“Allegedly,” Daisy answered.
“Rumor has it,” Theo said.
“People are saying.”
“I see.” Harriet glanced from Daisy to Theo and back again.
“It is just Theo and me now,” Daisy said to the group at large. “I declined to join my mother on her great husband-hunting expedition in Europe. I’m not ready to give up on my dreams. Or New York.” She glanced up at him and said, “Or Theo.”
That elicited a tremor of murmurs from the women.
“What do you need to make this work?” Miss Burnett asked.
“We’ll need a place to make the Midnight Miracle Cream and other preparations. The process is not complicated. We already have the ladies we need to do it. They only need space to work,” Daisy said. “And we’ll need a store, as well.”
“We don’t need a store,” Theo cut in. “It’s too easy to target—either by going straight to the landlords again or by staging protests. We only need a way to connect with our potential customers, especially those who might be interested in our products but wary of being seen purchasing them.”
“I have what you need,” Harriet said. “I have a kitchen table and an address.”
“And we can assist,” one of the other women said.
“But,” a woman started, “it is cosmetics. And the risk to our reputation and the work we do—the charitable ladies’ auxiliary work—wouldn’t that all be threatened if we did this?”
“We don’t all have to do it.”
“But it reflects on all of us.”
And just like that, the Charitable Ladies’ Auxiliary Club descended in a fierce—but polite—debate. Then voices started rising. Politely, of course. They were ladies after all. But the pitch was high and getting higher. These women had dearly held opinions and weren’t afraid to share them or to clash with their friends and fellow club women.
Until finally, finally, Miss Burnett put a stop to it.
“Oh, it’s just lip paint!” Harriet cried out and the women fell silent. “To be honest, I don’t like the way it feels on my lips or the way the rouge feels on my skin. I don’t care if everyone wears it or no one wears it. But I will fight to the death for a woman’s right to have the choice.”
There was a long moment of thoughtful silence.
“If you wish to participate in this mad dream of mine, please do,” Daisy said. “But if you do not wish to, then you don’t have to and there will be no hard feelings.”
And with that, the meeting came to a conclusion. Bibles and sewing things, whatever they were called, were put away.
“We will name our firstborn Harriet,” Theo said solemnly.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Daisy said. “One day at a time.”
“Should you be so blessed, I would cherish my namesake.”
“We should get started.”
“But first there is one last order of business to take care of,” Ava said. She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. Somehow they all knew to swarm around him, a cloud of taffeta and wool serge and brooches that could double as weapons. Their gazes were narrowed and sharp. Everything about them somehow communicated a lethal threat to his well-being.
They were just ladies but . . . they weren’t. They were more.
Harriet stepped right up to him, toe to toe, nose to nose. She was rather tall, so she could look straight into his eyes and deliver quite a threat.
“I speak for all of us women when I say that you were never here, this meeting never happened, nothing was ever discussed. If we are ever introduced you will pretend you don’t even know us. If you ever speak of this, we will see that every door in this town is closed to you. Forever.”
Theo glanced at Daisy, who just shrugged and replied, “What she said.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ladies and gentlemen of New York, the infamous Annabelle Jones has arrived.
—The New York Post
Days later
The Fifth Avenue Hotel
Women. That was the secret to success according to Daisy. When it came to putting their plan into action, Theo would be starting with one woman in particular.
The infamous Annabelle Jones. She was an actress of some renown for both her talents on stage and backstage. She was most recently famous for her role in the Saratoga Scandal, in which she played the part of Scandalous Woman and Terrible Influence upon one of Manhattan’s most beloved bachelors.
She had been lying low after the uproar, only somewhat by choice.
Now this infamous actress arrived in the city to some fanfare. The newspapers greatly anticipated her arrival and she did know how to create a scene to ensure that all eyes and obsessions were focused on her. She and her retinue—and her many, many trunks—proceeded directly from the train station to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where anyone who was anyone booked a suite on the top floor. She had two.
The spectacle of her arrival in the city was widely reported and well attended—people paused on the sidewalk to watch her go by. There was an audience outside the hotel. So many people desperately wanted a glimpse of her while also feeling some need to snub her because she was an actress and everyone knew about actresses.
Inside the lobby she stopped to take tea with her longtime friend and partner in crime, Theodore Prescott the Third. They sat in full view of, well, everyone. The greatest performance of their lives was pretending not to be the slightest bit aware of how many people were watching them and talking about them.
“Hello, Annabelle.”
“Theo.” She smiled at him and extended her hand for a kiss. “The last time I saw you, the police were dragging you away after our wild escapade. And now here you are. More handsome and more scandalous than ever before.”
She poured him a cup of tea with the grace of any debutante.
“You look well, Annabelle. Much better than when I saw you last.”
“Well, I’m not on death’s door anymore. Thank God.” She paused to lift her eyes to his. “Thanks to you.”
He remembered that night. He and his fellow Rogues had arrived at her residence with some intention of seeking their pleasure with a woman who was renowned for providing all sorts of entertainments. But it was not to be an evening of making merry, no matter what the papers had said. She was in bed, feverish and ill from an operation gone awry, and left on her own by the man who had gotten her in such a condition.
She knew it. He knew it. They were the only ones.
“Anyone would have done it.”
“We both know that’s not true,” she said. “Because not anyone did. That doctor, the housekeeper, those idiots you call your friends. They all left. Not one of them cared about my life. Except for you.”
Theo lifted his eyes to hers, finding them bright and brimming with feeling. He saw not an accomplished and scandalous actress, but the young girl who had run away from the family farm out west and the woman just trying to get by in the world by whatever means available. He did not judge her for this. If anything, he had admired her gumption and determination. Even then, he had envied it.
“You didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.” Some idle rogue—not unlike Theo—had gotten her with child. And some idle rogue—not Theo—demanded that she do something about it. The impossibility of her position meant she had agreed. A doctor had been willing to help her—but not once the fever set in.
Penance, the physician had said. It had been up to Theo to save her by whatever means necessary. He stole a horse and carriage—the first he could find, Cavana
ugh’s open two-seater, so all the world could see them. He wrapped her in a blanket and set off with her to find another doctor by the most direct route possible—which was directly through town. She didn’t die. But they both sacrificed something of their reputations so she could live.
“No woman deserves to suffer as you did.”
“And that is what makes you worth it, Theo. It’s not your pretty face or your turns of phrase. It’s that you don’t turn your back on women. You don’t leave them to fend for themselves.”
Like some men do. The words did not need to be said.
“How are you doing, Annabelle?”
“I’m fully recovered, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m ready to take the theater world by storm. I have the lead role in The Importance of Being Earnest. It’s the most anticipated production in the city. We’ll play on stage at the new Olympia Theater. All the newspapers are desperate to feature me.”
“Of course they are. You’re a beautiful, talented, and scandalous woman. You’ll be the toast of town. You won’t be invited to the high society parties, but they won’t miss your performances. They certainly won’t miss reports of your goings-on in the papers.”
“Nevertheless, I’m surprised you asked to see me. And so publicly, too. I thought I heard word of a fiancée.”
“It’s complicated. But Daisy and I . . . we have an understanding. I am here with her full knowledge and support.”
“Well, now I’m intrigued,” Annabelle murmured and sipped her tea.
“I admit, I’ve come to ask a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Wait until you hear it.”
“So tell me.”
“Daisy and I have gone into business.” He explained about the Midnight Miracle Cream, of which Annabelle was already a dedicated user—and she hadn’t even known of his involvement. He also explained about Daisy’s ambitions to launch cosmetics and his father’s determination to thwart them.
“And I’m wondering if you’d be so kind as to wear our lip paint and perhaps mention it in an interview or—”