Duke of a Gilded Age

by S. G. Rogers

  As Mr. Darling, Lady Frederic, and Mr. Oakhurst headed toward the elevator, Wesley and Belle fell into step just behind.

  “I wasn’t sure if I should sign the register as Wesley Parker or the Duke of Mansbury,” Wesley whispered. “I finally settled on Wesley Parker, the Duke of Mansbury, but it dribbled out into the margin.”

  “You may style yourself merely ‘Mansbury,’ Your Grace,” Belle replied.

  “I don’t like being called Your Grace,” he whispered. “If you don’t call me Wesley, I won’t answer you.”

  “Then our conversation will be quite one-sided,” Belle replied. “In British society, rank is everything. You’ll be expected to observe it.”

  Wesley attempted to behave as if he checked into first-class hotels and rode on sumptuous vertical railways every day, but in truth he was in mortal fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. Fortunately, Mr. Darling filled the slow steady ride to the top floor with his vivacious conversation.

  “The Prince of Wales stayed with us when he was touring North America,” he said.

  “Did he? How marvelous,” Lady Frederic said.

  “Indeed, the Fifth Avenue Hotel attracts dignitaries and statesmen from all over the globe. We’ve over four hundred employees to serve our guests, you see. Each bedchamber has a private bath and you’ll find a fireplace in every room. Oh, and meals are included during your stay here, except the late supper. For that, there’s a nominal fee.”

  “The Duke of Mansbury and Lady Frederic would like to procure a few items of clothing prior to their voyage,” Mr. Oakhurst said. “Where would you recommend, Mr. Darling?”

  Mr. Darling flicked a brief glance at Wesley’s dusty top hat.

  “The renowned Knox Hat Shop on the ground floor has a marvelous selection of men’s hats. You may have noticed it on the left just before you entered the hotel. Also, a fine collection of emporiums, boutiques, and department stores can be found on Ladies’ Mile, which encompasses part of Sixth Avenue, Fifth Avenue, and Broadway. I recommend Arnold, Constable and Company, 115 Fifth Avenue. The store is nicknamed the Palace of Trade, and you may even see the Vanderbilts, the Carnegies, or the Rockefellers shopping there.”

  The illustrious names didn’t particularly impress Wesley, but he nodded politely. At length, the upward motion of the moving parlor stopped, the doors opened, and the manager led them down the hallway to a suite of three large rooms overlooking Madison Square Park. Miss Oakhurst immediately ran to the windows to admire the view. While his mother inspected the suite, taking everything in with obvious pleasure, Wesley stood in the middle of the sitting room, bemused. He’d never seen such luxury before, nor imagined it. The sitting room alone was more spacious than the flat in Brooklyn. Dentil moldings accentuated the high ceiling, and tapestry-patterned paper covered the walls. Impressive wooden valances sat atop the windows, which were framed by elegant, heavy velvet drapes. An enormous oriental rug covered the polished wooden floor, and a fringed horsehair sofa, an ornate coffee table, and two chairs made up a cozy sitting area. Nearer the windows was a substantial rosewood desk, where letters could be written or business conducted. A crystal vase on the fireplace mantle displayed a profusion of fresh flowers and ferns, and a smaller cut-glass bowl on the coffee table held an arrangement of hothouse roses, lilies, and cockscomb. The floral fragrances combined to perfume the air.

  A basket of fruit on the coffee table made Wesley’s mouth water. Since his father died, he’d grown accustomed to eating the bruised, small fruit sold in Lombardi’s at a discount. He picked up a fresh red apple, marveling at its size, color, and perfection. It almost looked as if it was made out of wax, but the aroma proved otherwise. As he returned the apple to the basket, he noticed a fancy beribboned box marked Maillard’s. Mr. Darling followed his gaze.

  “Chocolates, compliments of the house, of course,” he said. “Maillard’s is located on the ground floor of the hotel. President Abraham Lincoln adored their bonbons. In addition to chocolates, you can buy perfectly marvelous chocolate ice cream there.”

  On the table was also a light green booklet entitled Visitor’s Guide to the City of New York. Mr. Darling gave it a tap. “There’s a great deal of useful information about shops and restaurants inside this pamphlet.”

  The bellhops arrived with the luggage just then. Wesley was struck by how worn and battered the old trunks looked, especially in contrast with the luxurious splendor of the room. While Mr. Darling spoke to Mr. Oakhurst and Lady Frederic about arranging transportation for their shopping excursion, Wesley joined Miss Oakhurst at the window.

  A tremendous view greeted him. Metal tracks for horse-drawn trolley cars cut through the granite Belgian block pavement on Fifth Avenue, several floors below. Across the street, a long line of hansom cabs was parked alongside Madison Square Park. The large rectangular park was a very pretty sight with its looping pathways and historic monuments nestled amongst large sycamore, oak, and elm trees.

  Wesley blew out a long, slow breath. “I’m completely out of my element here.”

  Miss Oakhurst cleared her throat. “Not at all. Your clothes are a vast improvement from yesterday.”

  He inserted a finger in between his collar and his neck in a futile attempt to loosen the fit. “They’re my father’s things and I feel silly in them.”

  “You don’t look silly. I think your suit is rather handsome, even if it’s borrowed.”

  “Thank you.” He paused a moment. “I can tell you don’t altogether approve of me.”

  “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove of you.” She studied him a moment. “I spoke out of turn yesterday. I should’ve been more courteous.”

  “I apologize for my comments as well. Perhaps we got off to a bad beginning.”

  “Definitely so. I agree.”

  “I could really use a friend, Miss Oakhurst.”

  “All right. As a friend, I must inform you that you need new shoes and a haircut.”

  Wesley roared with laughter. His mirth was contagious, and Miss Oakhurst began to giggle. Mr. Oakhurst, Lady Frederic, and Mr. Darling glanced over.

  “I’m glad to see you two getting along,” Mr. Oakhurst said.

  Chapter Three

  Fifth Avenue

  “MR. DARLING, WE NEED TO SETTLE IN,” Wesley said. “May we have lunch for four sent up?”

  “I’ll attend to it personally.”

  “Excellent. And after lunch, will you let me know when our carriage is ready to take us shopping?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Wesley smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Darling. I’m in your debt.”

  As the manager left, Wesley discovered Miss Oakhurst, Mr. Oakhurst, and his mother staring at him in shock. He stared back, perplexed.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, dear,” Lady Frederic said. “I’ve just never seen you give orders before. Well done.”

  “Perhaps Miss Oakhurst has lent me her considerable courage,” Wesley said.

  Unable to resist any longer, he picked up the apple and bit into it. As he did so, he savored its abundant juice, firm texture, and sweet taste. He brought the fruit with him as he explored the bedchamber that was to be his for the next few days. The four-poster, king-sized bed was covered with a patterned silk coverlet that coordinated with the curtains. As Mr. Darling had promised, the room possessed a handsome fireplace, framed by carved wooden trim pieces and a mantel. The adjoining bath was sparkling clean and elegant, with a marble pedestal sink, scented shell-shaped soaps, electric lighting, and gold-plated fixtures. Wesley cast a longing glance toward the claw-foot bathtub, but a good long soak would have to wait until the evening.

  He tossed his apple core into the artfully painted tin wastebasket and washed his face and hands in the lavatory basin. As Wesley dried himself off with one of the fluffy white towels hanging from a rack, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. In these clothes, I really do look a lot like Father. A sudden pang of loneliness was followed close
ly by a surge of anger toward his uncle. My father should be here to enjoy these luxuries. If only Uncle Septimus had made up with him years earlier, my father’s death could have been averted.

  His mother’s voice carried from the sitting room. “Wesley, a waiter has arrived to take our lunch order.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he called out.

  Before he rejoined his mother and the Oakhursts in the sitting room, Wesley wiped the frown from his face. Despite his surge of melancholy, he was determined to do nothing to upset his mother.

  As the cab carried Mr. Oakhurst, Belle, Lady Frederic, and Wesley down Fifth Avenue, Belle marveled at the impressive office buildings and fashionable shops lining both sides of the boulevard. The sidewalks were crowded with well-dressed people either out for a stroll or transacting business. City workers swept the street with push brooms, taking care to avoid the horses trotting past. Belle exchanged an excited glance with Lady Frederic.

  “Now I understand what Mr. Darling meant earlier,” Belle said. “You can buy anything you want here!”

  Lady Frederic gave a girlish giggle. “I confess, it feels like Christmas day.”

  “Don’t buy too much, Mother,” Wesley said. “You might sink the ship.”

  “Oh, don’t tease me, Wesley,” Lady Frederic said. “Mr. Oakhurst, when are we leaving, and how many days will we be at sea?”

  “The concierge has confirmed your first class accommodations on the SS City of New York leaving this Saturday at one o’clock. I’d plan for a crossing of six days, milady.”

  “As quick as that? When Frederic and I crossed over twenty years ago, the voyage took two weeks. The voyage was extremely unpleasant, rather dull, and it didn’t help that I was enceinte with Wesley.”

  “Passenger liners have made great strides in improving crossing speeds,” Mr. Oakhurst replied. “And you’ll find the vessels themselves quite comfortable and luxurious.”

  A very short while later, they arrived at their destination. The building that housed Arnold, Constable & Co. possessed a beautiful marble façade designed in a Second Empire style of architecture. Many expensive carriages were parked outside, hitched to glossy, well-tended horses. Uniformed drivers loitered in a group on the sidewalk, smoking and chatting while they awaited the return of their employers.

  Belle decided Mr. Darling must have sent a message ahead, because almost as soon as they entered the department store, managers and salespeople were there to greet them. A team of well-dressed saleswomen whisked Lady Frederic and Belle off in one direction, while a set of salesmen escorted Mr. Oakhurst and Wesley to a broad staircase leading upward. Belle stole a glance at Wesley as he was led off; he had the same somewhat bewildered expression as he’d had in the hotel lobby. Again, she felt an inexplicable twinge of sympathy. Papa was right to say I’ve been too hard on him. I likely wouldn’t know how to behave if I were thrown into his circumstances.

  For the duration of the afternoon, Belle and Lady Frederic were pampered in a private fashion show. Pretty ladies modeled the finest clothes from Europe, including couture gowns from the house of Worth. Wide-eyed, Belle drank in all the sumptuous fabrics, elaborate trimmings, beautiful embroidery, beading, lace, and ribbons. Her head swam at the vast array of accessories, such as hats, day and evening gloves, parasols, muffs, shoes, hosiery, and all manner of nightgowns and undergarments. One particular pink chiffon parasol made Belle ache with longing. Perhaps I can save my pocket money and buy something less expensive when I’m next in London. It would make a marvelous addition to my trousseau.

  While Lady Frederic was fitted for her new wardrobe, the staff offered Belle refreshments. To her delight, she was catered to almost as much as Lady Frederic. Belle gaped at the growing rack of selections accruing nearby. Fortunately, Lady Frederic declined to view riding habits or sports costumes, which would have taken even longer.

  “I must stop buying things, otherwise Wesley will never let me hear the end of it,” she confided to Belle. “But it’s been so long since I’ve had anything new to wear. I just can’t help myself.”

  “You may need a few more trunks.”

  “Oh, dear, you’re right.”

  Lady Frederic donned one of her new, elegant walking dresses to wear back to the hotel.

  “Do you suppose you could donate my old dress to charity for me?” she asked the head saleslady, Mrs. Moore.

  “Absolutely,” the woman replied. “You’d be surprised at how many castoffs we get here, and they fill a need.”

  “Good. My dear Miss Oakhurst, I’ve a gift for you, if I can find it.” Lady Frederic surveyed the purchases already packed for delivery. “Ah, here it is!” Out of a long, thin box she lifted a puffy chiffon parasol in a dainty shade of pink. “I saw how you’d admired it.”

  Astounded by Lady Frederic’s generosity, Belle reached for the wooden handled parasol as if it would blow away at the slightest touch.

  “Oh milady, it’s so beautiful! Thank you ever so much!”

  “Your advice to me while I was shopping was invaluable, Miss Oakhurst. It’s my way of saying thank you.”

  “I’ll treasure it.”

  Mrs. Moore then ushered Belle and Lady Frederic to the luggage department. Lady Frederic chose an array of handsome tapestry bags, as well as imported Louis Vuitton leather cases and travel trunks for herself and Wesley.

  Finally she gave Belle a tired smile. “Although I’ve had a marvelous day, I’ve done quite enough shopping.”

  “I enjoyed myself too,” Belle said. “I’ve rarely seen such beautiful things before. You’ll truly light up any room, milady.”

  “You’re a very sweet girl, Miss Oakhurst.”

  Wesley and Mr. Oakhurst joined them just then. Like his mother, Wesley had discarded his old clothes in favor of a new three-piece suit that fit him beautifully. A floppy bow tie and a black bowler hat gave him a dapper look, and his feet were encased in a pair of shiny leather shoes. His slow smile caused Belle’s mouth to go dry.

  “Hullo, Miss Oakhurst,” he said. “Hullo, Mother! If it weren’t for the fact you’re with Miss Oakhurst, I might not have recognized you. You look splendid.”

  “As do you, Wesley,” Lady Frederic replied. “I approve of your suit.”

  Wesley’s brown eyes focused once more on Belle. “I hope you approve, Miss Oakhurst?”

  “Oh, um, yes. Of course.”

  “The people here are quite helpful,” Wesley said. “They even tailored this suit while we waited. The rest of my things will be delivered to the hotel.”

  “As will mine.” Lady Frederic sighed. “I must admit I’m fatigued.”

  “The cab is waiting outside,” Mr. Oakhurst said.

  “If no one objects, I’d like to walk back,” Wesley said. “Would you join me, Miss Oakhurst?”

  So desperate was Belle for some exercise, she silenced the small voice inside her head telling her an unchaperoned walk with him was improper.

  “What a wonderful suggestion! It’s only four blocks,” she said. “Do you mind, Papa?”

  “All right, but don’t be overlong, or I’ll start to worry.”

  Mr. Oakhurst escorted Lady Frederic to the cab, and Wesley and Belle left the department store together. Although there was a spring in her step as she strolled up Fifth Avenue, Belle felt a slight twinge of guilt. I’ll most certainly not be including this excursion in my next letter to Errol! She happily unfurled her new parasol as she and Wesley crossed 19th Street.

  “This parasol was a gift from your mother,” she said. “She’s so kind.”

  “I’ve not seen my mother this contented in a long while,” Wesley said. “I daresay she was glad to do it.”

  Fashionable matrons and their gentleman escorts sauntered along the granite and bluestone sidewalk, pausing every so often to look at window displays or greet friends. Many of the women carried umbrellas or parasols to shield them from the sun’s rays, although nothing could block the August heat. Belle was pleased, nevertheless, tha
t none of the women had a parasol as beautiful as hers.

  “I’m so grateful for the chance to see the city up close,” Belle said. “Manhattan is so vibrant and new!”

  “There are parts of the city that are neither.”

  “It’s the same in London, of course. There’s tremendous poverty alongside fabulous wealth.”

  “Are New York and London very similar then?”

  “No, but they’re both very exciting cities. You own a townhouse in Belgravia, did my father tell you?”

  “I do?” Wesley paused. “Is Belgravia in London?”

  Belle laughed. “Indeed, it’s one of the more fashionable neighborhoods. I don’t think Septimus Parker used the townhouse very often because of his health, but I’m sure it’s grand.”

  “Mother will be thrilled to hear it,” Wesley said. “I can’t get over how different she looks in her new clothes.”

  “Oh, yes! Your mama has been quite transformed.” Belle gave Wesley a sidelong glance. “She’s not the only one who has been changed. As Shakespeare wrote, ‘the apparel oft proclaims the man.’”

  “That’s from Hamlet, I believe.”

  Belle’s pace slowed momentarily. “I’m impressed.”

  “I do read, Miss Oakhurst. In fact, that’s partly why I fell out of favor with my former friends in Brooklyn. They mistook my interest in learning for snobbery.”

  “Will you miss Brooklyn?”

  “I’ll miss baseball. The Brooklyn Bridegrooms may win the World’s Championship Series this year, and I won’t be around to see it.”

  “I really don’t know anything about baseball, but I’m willing to learn.”

  “From what my father told me about rounders, baseball is like that.”

  They walked together in companionable silence for a while.

  “If it’s not too personal a question, may I inquire how your father died?” she asked finally.

  “It’s a horrible story. My father had a job teaching literature at New York University, but he wasn’t satisfied with his wages. Over my mother’s objections, he began to work weekends down at the rail-marine terminal, Palmer’s Dock.” Wesley swallowed hard. “There was an accident.”