by Nancy Moser
“You have all been most hospitable.”
Lottie didn’t like being ignored, especially since the purser was holding her box of jewels brought from the safe. “If you don’t mind?” she asked.
He blushed at the sight of her, obviously realizing his faux pas. “Yes. Indeed. Miss Gleason. Here are your belongings, safe and sound.”
She took them, feeling better for having the leather box in her possession.
He turned to leave. “I hope you have a pleasant stay in New York, ladies.”
“Thank you, we—”
“I had a pleasant voyage too,” Lottie said. “If you’re interested.”
His face reddened even more and he touched the tip of his hat and left them.
“Lottie, that was rude.”
“Was it polite for him to ignore me and fawn over you?”
“He knew me. I’d met him. It was not a slight against—”
She was done with it. “Enough. Let’s go on deck to watch the city rise before us.”
“Hello, ladies.” Lottie and Dora turned to see Dr. Greenfield coming up beside them at the rail.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Lottie said.
Dora nodded a greeting, feeling her cheeks grow hot.
He looked directly at her. “I’ve missed spending much time with you these past few days.”
“She’s been busy with the details of our arrival,” Lottie said. “We’ve been busy.”
“How unfortunate. For now we arrive.”
In a few hours this man would be gone, absorbed into the population of America. The thought made Dora incredibly sad.
“What are your plans in New York, Doctor?” Lottie asked. “You have been the physician to royalty. There is no royalty here.”
He laughed. “Although Americans acknowledge titles, in truth they think them a novelty, an endearment of sorts. They consider titles …” He searched for the word. “Amusing.”
“Perhaps they’re jealous,” Lottie said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Yet they did have the chance to create a monarchy. That they chose this other way …”
“They are stuck with it now,” Lottie said.
He chuckled. “But to answer your question, royals or no royals, I’ve been bitten by the American bug. I’m going to join a practice here. My cousin is a doctor and well established. He offered me a position a few months ago, and I … I’m taking the plunge. It’s quite exciting to start over.”
“Yes, quite.” It was the first time Dora had spoken, and her words were full of inner meaning. She gazed over the harbor that stood before them. The buildings of New York City stood shoulder to shoulder like children vying for the best view. And they on the ship followed suit and stood at the railing, awaiting a formal introduction. Or a harsh rejection?
“What is that, on that island?” Lottie asked, pointing ahead.
“That, dear ladies, is Lady Liberty. ’Tis a gift from France, just completed. They built the entire statue in a workroom in Paris, dismantled it, and reassembled it here.”
It seemed odd to have one country give another country such a gift. “But why?” Lottie asked.
“To celebrate the friendship the French and Americans began during their revolution. Their revolution against us,” he said.
“As a British citizen, I feel rather left out,” Lottie said.
He laughed again. “The Americans owe much to the French. Without their help we would be landing in one of our very own colonies.”
Dora leaned forward and looked at the lower decks that were lined with hundreds of people, entire families, coming to America with the highest hopes.
As was she.
“Miss Connors …”
The change in Dr. Greenfield’s tone necessitated that Dora look at him.
“Yes, Doctor?”
“When we land, after you’ve had a chance to settle in, I was wondering if you …” He sighed. “Oh dear, you would think I were a schoolboy in this.”
Dora guessed the direction of their exchange and panicked even as she felt intense satisfaction. He was interested in her! Yet she mustn’t allow him to broach the question of seeing her. Once they landed, Dora Connors would no longer exist. She looked to her other side, hoping for Lottie’s quick answers, but discovered her friend in conversation with another couple.
“Oh, let me just say it,” he said in a rush. “I would enjoy the honor of calling upon you while you are in New York City. Would that be agreeable?”
Actually, a few days ago, or at any other time, in any other situation, it would have pleased her beyond measure. Dr. Greenfield had been her dashing prince who could whisk her away into a happy ending. That she had gained the attention of such a man was beyond her imagining. That she would have to shun him now …
There was no way around it. She and Lottie had made a pact. It was too late to abandon it now. “I’m extremely honored by your offer, Dr. Greenfield, and I’ve fully enjoyed your acquaintance and your kind attention on our journey, but …” She offered her own sigh and found it hard to get the words out. “In truth, I’m to be betrothed.”
He looked aghast. “Betrothed? But you never—”
No, she had never. Doubts assailed her. Who knew what Conrad Tremaine would be like. What his family would be like. Or if she would even be able to carry off the masquerade. Dr. Greenfield liked her—as she liked him.
“I am truly sorry,” she said. “I enjoyed our friendship and cherish the time we had together more than you’ll ever know. That I didn’t give you full disclosure as to my plans upon landing in America … that I may have hurt you in any way …”
He looked upon the busy harbor. “It is unfortunate.”
She didn’t know what else to say. This man had made her feel wanted, desired, and appreciated. He’d given her the gift of confidence when she’d possessed none.
“If the situation were different,” she said, but could say no more.
He looked at her with a gleam in his eyes. “But … you aren’t betrothed yet?” he asked.
She felt the faintest flutter. “No, I’m not, but—”
“Then permit me to be bold. Permit me to let my prayers and the decision of God finish our story.”
Our story?
“Would you agree to giving me that much hope, Miss Connors?”
Give him hope? His words gave her hope, blessed hope. “I … I suppose.”
A traveling companion of Dr. Greenfield joined them. “Excuse me, Doctor, but Mr. Bram Stoker wishes to speak with you before we land.”
He turned to Dora and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Until fate allows,” he said.
Dora watched him walk away and felt an awful panic. Come back! Don’t leave! He was a wonderful, kind, appealing man and made her feel wonderful, kind, and appealing in return. That he would soon disappear amid the buildings that marked New York …
What have I done?
Lottie returned to her side. “Did you chase him off?” she asked, nodding toward Dr. Greenfield.
“He asked to call on me in New York.”
Lottie’s eyebrows rose. “But he can’t.”
“I know. But—”
“There are no buts,” Lottie said.
But there were. “What if I don’t go through with the masquerade? What if I remain myself?”
“And what of me, then?” Lottie asked. “When the Tremaines find no one at the dock, they’ll contact my family and the alarm will sound. They’ll come looking for me. Do you really want to cause such turmoil?”
And there would be turmoil. “But I like the doctor and—”
“We’ve been through this, Dora. If you remain Dora Connors, what will you do to make a living?”
“I suppose I’ll be a maid.”
Lottie snickered. “Do you actually think Dr. Greenfield will be interested in Miss Connors, the maid?”
Dora felt the breath go out of her. There was no way for their friendship to succeed.
“Pus
h him out of your mind, Dora. He is not for you and you are not for him. Conrad is your future—is the future of Charlotte Gleason.”
A phrase her mother taught her stepped forward, demanding her attention. What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. The image of a huge, hideous web spread across her mind. Dora prayed she wouldn’t get caught in it. And eaten alive.
As the ship dropped anchor, everyone on board seemed to hold their breath. It was time. They had arrived.
Or had they?
“We’re still in the harbor,” Dora said. “How do we get to shore?”
They were anchored a good distance from land, nearer the island that held the Statue of Liberty than to the island named Manhattan. Their destination was a rounded fortlike structure that jutted into the water at the tip of Manhattan. It had a large, windowed cupola on top that sported an American flag waving in the wind. This was Castle Garden, where all immigrants started their American journey. She could see why they called it a castle, but could not see any gardens.
Lottie didn’t know how they would get from the Etruria to shore but upon seeing smaller boats encircle the ship pretended she did. “There. They’ll pick us up and take us to Castle Garden.”
Dora nodded, accepting the guess as truth. The girl was visibly nervous and had nearly shredded a handkerchief. “But how will we get our luggage? There’s an enormous amount of it. I don’t want to lose all my beautiful clothes before I even get to wear them.”
My beautiful clothes.
“It will be a long process, that’s for certain,” Lottie said. “With nearly fifteen hundred people on board—”
Dora looked aghast. “That many?”
“All told.” Lottie liked knowing things Dora did not. “Five hundred first class, one hundred sixty in second, and eight hundred in steerage.”
“How do you know that?”
She had always been good with numbers. “I made friends with the crew too, Dora. The first mate was quite attentive.” Too attentive. He’d cornered Lottie on one of her strolls and had rattled off far too much information about the ship. She’d had to feign another engagement to be rid of him.
Dora’s forehead continued to be furrowed with worry. “We telegraphed the Tremaines from the ship, but what if they come to the dock and it takes too long and they leave and—”
“They will not leave.”
“Maybe they’ll send a servant to fetch me. I would feel better if they’re not put out, if only a servant is forced to wait.”
Dora seemed to have little concept regarding her newfound position. “Firstly, you are not being fetched, Dora. You are not a spaniel or a cow in a pasture. Conrad telegraphed that he’ll be there to meet you with his sister, Beatrice.”
“At least it won’t be his parents. I fear them the most.”
“With good reason.”
The panic in Dora’s eyes caused Lottie to suffer a twinge of guilt. She should calm her friend’s fears, not add to them. And yet, in these final hours, she couldn’t help herself. The full implication of their plan was settling upon her shoulders and proved to be a heavy burden. “The Tremaines didn’t gain their vast wealth by being stupid or ignorant, Dora. I expect them to be very savvy about people and situations.”
“But I’m not savvy! They’ll know something is amiss. They won’t believe I’m you. I can’t do this! Besides, it’s not fair to them. They’re expecting a real lady.”
Dora was making a scene, talking far too loudly, causing the other first-class passengers to cast odd glances in their direction.
Lottie put a hand upon her back. “Shh. Do you wish to ruin your chances right here and now, before we’ve even assumed our new identities?”
Dora looked at the other passengers assembled close by. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just want it to be over. I won’t be able to relax until I’m safely ensconced at the Tremaines’.”
Merely being in the Tremaine household would only be the beginning of Dora’s trials. But Lottie was merciful and didn’t mention it.
Waiting. Life was waiting. It was not one of Lottie’s strong suits.
The first-class passengers had been allowed onto the first boats to shore, and once on land had been subjected to a very brief medical exam. A woman with a bad cough was told to step aside and her husband accompanied her. Lottie was extremely glad she was in good health. What were they going to do with the woman? Send her home? Were only the healthy allowed to enter America?
They may have been first on the transfer boats and first through the medical exam, but once they entered the building called Castle Garden, they were first in nothing. The building was circular in shape with arched columns rising two stories. The center was open to the sun, letting a beam of God-light access to the floor. The floor had divisions built upon it, looking like animal runs and pens. A wide balcony rimmed with windows encircled the room, which was teeming with thousands of people. There was no first class here. All were equal upon coming to America. All were new, all were confused, and all were tired.
“We’ll never get through this,” Dora said.
Lottie had not expected the crowds. These weren’t merely passengers from their own ship but also from ships that had anchored before them. Many ships, from the looks of it.
“Come on, now,” a constable said. “Move it along.”
“Sir? Where is our luggage?” Lottie asked.
He glanced at the leather box she held to her chest. She hoped he wouldn’t ask to see inside.
“You’ll get it soon enough,” he said. “You have to register first. Then you change your money to dollars, arrange for transportation, and then you get your luggage.” He pointed to the right. “English-speaking line’s over there.”
Thankfully, their line was far shorter than the other lines that accommodated foreign languages. Lottie couldn’t imagine coming to a country and not speaking the language. The deficit would make a nerve-wracking experience nerve-shattering.
Lottie looked ahead to the men seated behind a long counter. Each had a large book spread open before them. She pulled Dora to the line on the left because the man looked nicer than the others. But as they neared their turn, Lottie wondered about her box of jewels. She didn’t know if the registrar would ask about it, or even notice it. She didn’t want her jewelry displayed for all to see, nor did she want to risk the chance that the registrar would see fit to help himself to a bauble as a form of toll. She held the box down, within the folds of her skirt.
Dora was first to step up to the man.
“Name?”
Dora cleared her throat. “Charlotte Regina Gleason.” She glanced 130 back at Lottie.
And that was that. Lottie was no longer Charlotte Gleason. Her name was gone. Forever.
“Spell the last name, please,” the man asked.
Dora spelled it out, and each letter pronounced was like a clock ticking down the final moment when all that was Lottie was finished.
Step up and tell them you’re Charlotte Gleason. It’s your last chance.Don’t throw your life away!
But it was too late. The registrant was on to the next question. “Age?”
“Nineteen.”
He smiled at Dora. “And a pretty nineteen it is too, miss.”
“Thank you.”
He cleared his throat and went back to the listing. “Nationality?”
“British. I’m from Dornby Manor in Wiltshire.”
He wrote it down.
“Ship name?”
“Etruria.”
“And your final destination?”
“Here,” Dora said. “New York City.”
What is my final destination? Dora knew where she was going, but Lottie …
“Thank you, miss.” He winked. “Next.”
Lottie stepped forward.
“Name?”
And there it was. The moment when she would finalize the bargain. She drew in a fresh breath. “Lottie Hathaway,” she said. Of all the names in the worl
d to choose from, Lottie had decided upon a surname that had personal meaning. Eliza Hathaway had been her beloved nanny throughout her early childhood. She’d lost track of her these last few years, but using her surname now made the transition from Lottie’s old life to this new one less painful. If she could become a woman as kind and good as her nanny, she would consider herself well done.
She answered the rest of the questions without incident. And then they were through.
Dora slipped her hand through Lottie’s arm. “There,” she said. “It is finished.”
Lottie forced herself to take a deep breath, a new breath in a new country with a new name and a new life. Did she feel different?
She did. For here, now, there was no history to rest upon, no family name to signal her position and status, no relations or friends to offer a constant assurance of who she was in the scheme of living, and no timetable of what to do when, and how, and with whom.
All the familiar constraints and restraints she had accepted, tolerated, and complained about fell from her being like dust particles being swiped from a coat, only to dissipate into the air, invisible until they accumulated on the floor and were trod upon by a thousand footfalls.
Lottie should have felt free and renewed. Yet without the familiar structure of the known, she felt complete and utter panic.
What have I done?
“Block the view,” Lottie said.
Dora was confused.
Lottie made a spin-around motion with a hand. “I want to put my new dollars and cents in with my jewelry and don’t want the entire world to watch me do it.”
Ah. Dora turned around so Lottie could fiddle with her jewelry box behind her. She’d let Lottie have all the money Mr. Gleason had given them. Surely the Tremaines would provide for Dora’s needs. The transaction in Castle Garden had gone smoothly, yet almost too much so. With swift motions the money changers had taken Lottie’s pounds and shillings and had handed her American money in return. Dora was pretty certain Lottie had been cheated, yet they were in no position to argue.
“There,” Lottie said when she was finished with the transfer. “You can’t be too careful. Now let’s go claim our luggage.”