Masquerade

by Nancy Moser

  And yet … she was very glad to have crossed it.

  Making her way toward her stateroom, she noticed the moon once more. The same moon that shone for her shone for the O’Gradys and their travel mates.

  One moon.

  One ship.

  One goal. To start over, to start fresh, to risk everything for something better.

  Suddenly Lottie stopped and turned directly toward the moon. “I can’t marry Conrad. I can’t settle on a life set for me by others.”

  The simple statement grew large in her mind, overshadowing the doubt and questions that had lingered for weeks. And as it gained strength and clarity, Lottie realized marrying Conrad would be settling for a lesser goal. Like Mr. O’Grady had said, “Better to risk and fail than never try.”

  Lottie felt a breeze pick up and was mentally transported back to her walk on the grounds of Dornby Manor after she’d accepted that she was going to America. She’d thought about running off on her own even then. It was her secret plan. She could be free.

  Her mind skipped to an earlier memory, a handful of words said by Dora. “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

  Conrad. They’d been talking about marrying Conrad.

  Dora had passed it off as a joke, but …

  Could it be something more? Could it be the solution to everything?

  Could Dora take Lottie’s place at the Tremaines’, pretending to be Charlotte Gleason? She’d successfully come this far in playing the part of a lady; why not go one step further?

  If Dora took Lottie’s place, that would leave Lottie free to … to what?

  On impulse Lottie removed her shawl and held its corners with either hand, lifting it into the air. It billowed above her like a sail, taking her to—

  To?

  A new life.

  Could it be that simple?

  She’d risk it. She had to.

  Dora heard the door of the stateroom and opened one eye. Lottie entered, but didn’t just enter—she burst into the room.

  Dora sat up in bed. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at dinner?”

  “Forget dinner. But yes, something happened that will change our lives. Forever.”

  Her mind was hazy. What is Lottie talking about now?

  Dora tried to stand and Lottie came to her aid. “Are you feeling better?”

  She gauged her answer. “I believe I am. The ship … it’s not rocking?”

  “Not since early afternoon. The sea is calm.”

  Dora couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at a clock. “I’ve slept away the day?”

  “As you should have.”

  Dora was horrified she’d slept so long. It was disconcerting to lose track of time. Plus, she was disappointed to have missed a day of her trip and time with Dr. Greenfield. To have experienced such a success at the ball, only to disappear …

  Her disappointment faded to resignation. She’d enjoyed playing the part of the princess for one night. Most women never got that chance. “Here. Let me help with your dress,” she told Lottie.

  “Forget the dress, Dora! Didn’t you hear me? Our lives are about to change forever.”

  She might as well listen. There would be no rest until Lottie had her say. “Go ahead, then. Tell me.”

  Lottie paced as she told some farfetched story of finding a lost Irish boy, going down to a lower deck to seek out his parents, and sitting on a crate by a fire. It was too fantastic to be true.

  “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “You, who wouldn’t even let me look at the people on the lower decks, went among them? Alone? At night?”

  “A little boy needed help.”

  “Since when have you cared for children?”

  “I care for children. Just because I haven’t been around them doesn’t mean I don’t care—” Lottie stopped pacing and glared at Dora, her hands on her hips. “Let me finish. I haven’t even reached the good part.”

  Dora gave her a by-your-leave wave.

  “I told you all that to tell you this: I am not going to marry Conrad. You are. As me. Pretending to be me.”

  Dora stopped breathing for just a moment. Then she laughed. “Me? Marry Conrad Tremaine? Heir to one of the richest families in America? Certainly. Why not? Or perhaps I should marry one of Queen Victoria’s grandsons and really have a good go of it.”

  Lottie perched on the edge of the vanity bench, her hand to her mouth, her eyes racing. Dora had seen that look before. A scheme was being hatched, and considering the failure rate of past plans, Dora was hesitant to hear more.

  But Lottie had more to tell. “The idea just came to me like a bolt. Why don’t you marry him? What if you took my place at the Tremaines’?”

  “Me. Be you.” It was absurd.

  Lottie rose and resumed her pacing. “We look alike; people have always mentioned as much. And the only photograph Conrad has of me is very small, in a frame no larger than a compact. And not a very good one either. I wanted a new one taken, but Father …” Her eyes cleared. “He probably couldn’t afford it.”

  Dora caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror along with the reflection of Lottie pacing the room. There was a strong resemblance. Although her own hair was more strawberry than champagne, the distinction would not be apparent in a photograph. Nor would her extra inch in height be measurable. Nor her green eyes to Lottie’s blue.

  Stop it! It’s a ridiculous idea. It could never work. “How did one stroll on the deck, finding one little boy, ever bring you to this idea?”

  “It doesn’t matter how; it only matters that it happened. And when I thought of it, I realized what a relief it was to set myself free of all that.”

  Dora wasn’t about to give in to Lottie’s fantasies so easily. “Then don’t marry him. But why do you think I should do it?”

  “Because you can. You, who’ve grown up with nothing, can now have everything. And if you’d like, you could even share that wealth— with your mother perhaps?”

  Dora’s thoughts raced. “Ma always wanted to get out of service and open her own little sweet shop.”

  “There you have it. With Conrad’s money your mother can have a large sweet shop, packed full of clerks selling chocolates and pretty cakes.”

  Dora looked at her bed, assuring herself that she was fully awake. “Marrying a man like Conrad Tremaine would be a fairy tale. What girl wouldn’t want to marry a rich heir?”

  “Me,” Lottie said.

  Dora was skeptical. “You say that now, but once you get to New York you’ll change your mind.” And once Lottie did that, there would be pain involved. If Dora let herself accept this incredible dream even a little …

  Lottie shook her head vehemently. “I won’t change my mind. And where’s your courage, Dora? If these people of lesser means can risk everything, so can we.”

  “They have less to risk.”

  “Do they?” She knew it was a complicated question, for surely the emigrants had fewer material possessions at risk. But then again, because they had no cushion to fall back on, perhaps their risk was even greater than her own. Or Dora’s. “I want to find my own happiness, Dora. I want true love.”

  “So do I.”

  Lottie’s eyebrows rose. “If you’re thinking of Dr. Greenfield …”

  Dora hadn’t admitted as much to herself, but what Lottie said was true. “What if I am?”

  “He’s the physician to the queen.”

  “Was the physician. He’s starting over in America, just as we are.”

  “Just because he’s shown interest in you here …”

  Dora was hurt. No, she was not entering America as a member of the social elite, but she was entering as Lottie’s companion. Surely such distinctions could be blurred if she acted like a lady and earned the approval of society. What she’d accomplished on the ship could be continued on land.

  Lottie persisted with her argument. “If things stay as they are and you’re my companion at the Tremaines’, Dr. Gre
enfield will have nothing to do with you.”

  “But I won’t be your maid. I’ll—”

  “Forgive me for being blunt, Dora, but as Dora Connors you are not one of us.”

  And there it was. The truth that could never be denied no matter what fancy dress Dora put on. Back in England, high society was a closely knit group who linked arms at any attempt to breach their bastions. She had no reason to believe New York society was any different.

  “There, there, Dora,” Lottie said with a pat to Dora’s arm. “You may not be able to have Dr. Greenfield, but I am giving you the chance at someone far more important.”

  Dora shook her head, incredulous. “So now Conrad Tremaine is a catch? A man worth marrying?”

  “He was always worth marrying, Dora. I just didn’t want to do it.”

  Once again it came down to the stalwart fact that Lottie never did what she didn’t want to do.

  Lottie handily set Dora’s objections aside. “Don’t you see? Since I’ve been virtually kicked out of my old life in England, once in America, with this new chance … I want adventure. I want to explore new worlds.”

  “You’ve never been anywhere alone.”

  “Then it’s time for a change.”

  Lottie’s quick answers were exasperating. “If you don’t want to marry Conrad, then why don’t you and I go off together and explore new worlds?”

  Lottie hesitated a little at this one. “Because we would need money, and …”

  “And?”

  Lottie answered in a burst. “I do have my family’s jewels to sell. I can survive on that, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get enough to support two of us.”

  Money was an issue. Money was always an issue.

  “There is another reason we can’t go off together. I don’t want my parents to worry,” Lottie said. “If you take my place, they’ll believe all is well, that I’m taken care of. Charlotte Gleason will be where she’s supposed to be. If I tell them I’m heading off on my own, they’ll be mad with worry. I don’t want to do that to Mother. She has enough to deal with at home. Once I’m established and the need for worry is gone, I’ll contact them.”

  There was a large flaw in her plan. “But once your parents know what’s been done, won’t they contact the Tremaines and tell them the truth—that I’m not you?”

  “And create another scandal?” Lottie shook her head. “I think not. Besides, when I asked Father if the Tremaines knew about our family’s problems, he said, ‘What the Tremaines don’t know won’t hurt them.’ ”

  “He said that?”

  “He did. So you see, he’s not beyond fudging the truth to suit his needs. If it becomes an issue, I might even write Father a letter stating that if he tattles, I will tell the Tremaines he misrepresented our financial strength as well as the precariousness of our social position.”

  It made sense—in a Lottie sort of way. And yet … “Isn’t that blackmail?”

  Lottie shrugged. “We are here, on this ship, because of my father. I am fleeing everything I know because of him. He owes me.”

  It still didn’t seem quite right, but Dora had other questions. To begin with, “What if I don’t like Conrad? What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “Then don’t marry him. You and I will be in touch, and if the worst happens, you can come live with me.” With a snap of her fingers, Lottie expected to make everything work.

  “But then what of your parents?”

  With a quick shake of her head the question was dismissed. “We’ll deal with that when or if the time comes.” She took Dora’s hands in hers. “Come on, Dora. This is perfect. We’ll each gain our own adventures and find happiness.”

  “Or not.”

  Lottie tossed Dora’s hands away. “You will think about it.”

  It was not a question. “Yes, of course, but—”

  Lottie showed Dora her back. “Help me off with this. I want to get to bed. We have a lot to do in the few days before we land. A lot to plan.”

  Oh dear.

  Sleep eluded her.

  It was hard for Dora to comprehend the journey she’d taken. It had nothing to do with miles of ocean, but with the distance she’d traveled between being a lowly maid to having the chance to marry one of the wealthiest men in America. Along the way she’d dipped her toe into a refreshing pool of romance with Dr. Greenfield… .

  Was Lottie correct in stating that she had no future with the good doctor? Unfortunately, Lottie’s reasoning made sense. Once they reached New York, Dora would not be Lottie’s equal, but her companion—her lesser companion. As the former physician to the queen, Dr. Greenfield would have nothing to do with her—whether he wished to or not. Society would not allow it.

  An old hymn started playing in Dora’s head. The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate, God made them, high or lowly, and ordered their estate… .

  There was an order to things. If she wasn’t good enough for Dr. Greenfield, how could she ever be good enough for Conrad Tremaine?

  But I wouldn’t be Dora Connors. I’d be Charlotte Gleason.

  Her head ached from the clash of what could never be with what could, perhaps, maybe … She could never be Mrs. Edmund Greenfield, but she might be able to be Mrs. Conrad Tremaine.

  If she could pull it off. If the moon and the stars aligned—and if God approved.

  What did the Almighty think of this plan?

  Thou shalt not lie.

  The string of lies that had brought them this far was crooked and unwieldy and had started with Lottie’s father. As Lottie had stated, his actions were the cause of their current situation. Would it be so horrible for Lottie to find her happiness beyond the scope of her father’s plan, and for Dora to grab hold of this chance in her stead?

  Dora wouldn’t be the only one to benefit. If all went well, her mother could put an end to her life of servitude and find happiness running her own shop. Her mother had lost a husband and three children and had worked eighteen hours a day her entire life. Didn’t she deserve a chance to be happy?

  Wasn’t it Dora’s duty to try to provide her with that chance?

  What about Conrad? What about the Tremaines? What have they ever done to be the recipients of such deceit?

  Lottie’s voice interrupted the darkness, and her thoughts. “Are you awake?”

  “Of course.”

  “You can do this, you know.”

  Dora had said the very same words in the dark just a few days previous. She answered now as Lottie had answered then. “I know.”

  And with those two words, Dora shut away her doubts, her fears, and her conscience.

  I can do this.

  She had to try.

  Chapter Eight

  Lottie closed the lid on the last trunk. “There,” she said. “I hereby bequeath to you these lovely clothes. May you wear them well.” In spite of her bravado, she felt a stitch in her stomach. To leave these gowns with someone else …

  Dora glanced at the much smaller trunk. “Are you sure you only want to take a few?”

  No. Lottie was not sure. But she felt ill at ease presuming upon the hospitality of Dora’s cousin with a bevy of luggage. Yet to make sure they did connect, Lottie had sent a telegram announcing her upcoming arrival. She prayed everything would fall into place.

  In their final days on board, as Lottie expected, Dora had relinquished her impossible dream of pursuing a relationship with Dr. Greenfield and had agreed to become Charlotte Gleason. Once the decision was made, Lottie inundated her with the finer points of being a lady while coming up with her own plan. Once in New York, Lottie’s first task would be to sell her jewels. With that accomplished, she would have money to live on.

  As if reading her thoughts, Dora said, “I’m sad you’re going to sell your good jewelry. You could also have these costume sets we’ve been wearing. I don’t need to wear jewels of any sort.”

  “You most certainly do,” Lottie said. “You can’t wear my gowns without them or t
he Tremaines will think less of you. Until Conrad gives you presents of your own, you must wear the lesser jewels proudly. Remember, what they don’t know, you don’t have to tell.” She stood erect, her chin held high. “It’s all a matter of carriage, Dora. Act regal and people will perceive you as such.”

  Dora mirrored Lottie’s posture but soon wavered into her normal unassuming stance. “I’ll be on pins and needles the entire time. In spite of your patient teaching, I don’t know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to work.”

  “It will work.” Lottie was not as confident as she portrayed. “Take heart, Dora. Your path is more certain than my own. You have a vocation to fall back on. I have no skills other than how to do needlework, play the piano, sing in a manner so as not to make listeners cringe, and read aloud with a certain flair. These menial talents are of little use to the world beyond the drawing room.”

  Yet Lottie felt good about making this decision. It was her one big chance. In her parents’ house her opinions had counted for little. Although she’d spent a lifetime with every material whim met, her opinion on matters of the heart, mind, and soul had either been ignored, discarded, or cut off like a bothersome smoking wick. Once she landed in America, she would have to rely upon herself alone.

  Sink or swim.

  Amid all Lottie’s bravado came the undeniable knowledge that her own worth had never been measured by anything she thought or achieved, but was mired in who she was according to society—a society that had proved to be dishearteningly fickle. What worth would she have in New York—away from the upper-crust life?

  Dora put on a hat, securing it with a long pin. “I suppose I have little to lose. If I don’t do this, I will always wonder what might have been.”

  “Precisely,” Lottie said.

  “And if we’re totally wrong … I suppose God will forgive us and set us right again.”

  Lottie didn’t like the sound of that.

  There was a knock on the cabin door. The porters had come for the luggage. Lottie took charge. “Here they are. The trunks are ready to go.”

  As the porters left, a ship’s officer knocked on the opened door. As soon as he saw Dora, he nodded a greeting. “Miss Connors. I trust your voyage was enjoyable?”