A Collar of Jewels

by Pamela Pope

  He bent to claim her mouth in an angry kiss which forced her lips against her teeth and bruised them. But after the initial onslaught he became more gentle. Passers-by turned to stare; Ellie didn’t care. She pressed herself close to him, by her response showing agreement with anything he suggested.

  *

  Sibylla Harvey considered the arranged meeting to be one of her best diplomatic victories. She had persuaded her husband to allow Max Berman into the house to speak with him. It had pacified Ellie, satisfied the overbearing young man, and it would bring a swift end to all the unpleasantness of the past weeks, because Conrad would forbid the association once and for all.

  The appointed time was seven-thirty that early August evening. There was no food on offer, and the small ante-room in which she interviewed prospective employees was chosen for the meeting. Sibylla had instructed Ellie and Max to be punctual, but kept a different schedule for herself and Conrad. It was better that the miscreant was kept waiting to stew a little.

  At just after eight, their English butler showed Sibylla and Conrad into the ante-room where the young couple appeared to be quite unconcerned by the delay. They actually looked as if they had welcomed the extra time together, moving apart guiltily as the door opened. There was no time to lose. Sibylla was dressed in a sumptuous gown of emerald silk and she wore impressive jewellery which would highlight the difference in status between the Bermans and the Harveys. She had worked hard at setting the scene. Now it was all up to Conrad.

  She had never met Max Berman. She expected him to be an uncouth man of the labouring class with a veneer of charm which had temporarily turned her daughter’s head. It was a surprise then, to see someone who could pass for one of their own social circle. Max was impeccably dressed in a frockcoat of finest quality serge, his shoes were polished until the toecaps gleamed, and he wore a high collar with a soft, expertly-tied maroon bowtie. There was nothing flashy about him, nothing she could immediately criticise, and she was annoyed with herself for experiencing a hint of excitement at the sight of someone so handsome.

  Sibylla arranged her skirt and sat on a high-backed chair, leaving Conrad to open the proceedings. But the initiative was taken from him.

  ‘Sir, I’m very pleased to meet you again,’ said the forward young man, extending his hand.

  ‘I regret to say the pleasure is not mutual,’ said Conrad, ignoring the gesture. ‘In fact, we are seeing you very reluctantly.’

  ‘Papa!’ cried Ellie at his rudeness.

  ‘I understand from my daughter Elena that you have the audacity to wish for her hand in marriage. I presume you have taken no account of the effect it would have on her, in the unlikely event of permission being given.’

  ‘I have, Mr Harvey. It’s what we both want.’

  ‘He’s right, Papa,’ Ellie said, as eager as a puppy. ‘I’ve never wanted anything more than to be married to Max.’

  ‘My father has built up a good tailoring business in Chicago,’ Max went on. Ah, thought Sibylla, that explains the cut of his clothes. ‘At present, thanks to you, I am working for Mr Pullman making luxury furnishings. I am good at it, the best in the company. One day I intend to have a furnishing company of my own.’

  ‘Which you hope to set up with my money, no doubt.’

  Max Berman raised his eyebrows. ‘Sir, I am a proud man. I will achieve my ambitions by my own merit.’

  Sybilla saw the flicker of admiration in Conrad’s eyes, which was quickly hidden. It was obvious the fellow was not coming over the way he had expected either, but there would be no weakening. Poor Conrad. Was he remembering what he owed to her father? Of course, there the similarity ended. In marrying Conrad Sybilla had bettered herself socially. She had been welcomed into his old colonial family with open arms and introduced proudly as Sir Robert Cromer’s daughter. Fortunately, no one had ever found out that the rich Sir Robert had no breeding and was ostracised in his own country.

  Max Berman had nothing to recommend him except looks and style.

  The two men discussed Max’s prospects for several minutes out of courtesy, and Sibylla’s eyes rested on her daughter who was hanging on every word. For the first time she had a certain amount of sympathy for her. Ellie was clearly in love and it was easy to see why. Max had a direct, penetrating gaze, an intelligent forehead, and a handsomeness guaranteed to melt the heart of any woman. He was tall, his body perfectly proportioned, and his mouth would be firm and irresistible for kissing. Sibylla had always secretly appreciated such things. Without any feeling of guilt she slightly envied Ellie, and even pitied her that the liaison must end.

  ‘Mr Berman,’ said Conrad, ‘would you be prepared to embrace the Catholic faith and renounce Judaism?’ This was the crux of the matter, the argument which would settle it without trouble.

  ‘No, sir, I wouldn’t.’ Max’s voice was firm. Ellie looked at him nervously.

  ‘Then you must know without any doubt that you cannot marry my daughter. I have nothing against the Jewish people, you understand, but Elena is a good Catholic and apart from anything else she will marry someone of the same faith.’

  Conrad went on to express his views strongly. Elena, of course, pleaded the way she had done when she wanted anything as a child, but this time her father adamantly refused to be persuaded.

  ‘I can still be a Catholic, Papa. I’ll always be a Catholic — nothing can change that,’ she insisted. ‘And Max will still go to the synagogue.’

  ‘What of any children? In which religious faith would they be brought up?’ Sibylla ventured to join in the discussion, though she had promised to let Conrad speak for them both.

  ‘Such a matter would be decided in the future,’ said Max.

  ‘There will be no future for you and my daughter. There will be no marriage. The matter is closed,’ said Conrad. ‘Now, Mr Berman, I must ask you to leave and not try to see Elena again.’

  Ellie broke into a storm of weeping. ‘Papa, I shall die.’

  ‘At your age you will recover in no time,’ said her father briskly. ‘This infatuation will soon be forgotten. Lionel will be bringing his friends home for summer vacation next week.’

  To his credit, Max Berman didn’t make a fuss. He behaved with dignity, thanking Conrad for giving him a hearing, then he took both of Ellie’s hands and made her look at him.

  ‘Your father only wants what’s best for you, Ellie, and so do I,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Max!’ Ellie threw herself into his arms and sobbed the louder. ‘I’ll love you forever. And I won’t let them ruin our lives.’

  Max extricated himself after a few damp seconds, but kept eye contact with her. ‘Goodbye, for a little while,’ he said.

  ‘You will never set foot in this house again,’ stormed Conrad.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Max. ‘I never will.’

  ‘Nor will you see Elena again.’

  ‘That, sir, is another matter.’

  Sibylla was relieved when her husband reached for the bell-pull, summoning the butler to show out the unfortunate suitor. But she had an uncomfortable feeling that they were not seeing the last of him.

  *

  When Max had left, Ellie was completely devastated. He hadn’t asked to speak to her alone, nor had he given a hint of his future intentions. She felt bereft, frightened, and so very much alone. He wouldn’t even be able to get a letter to her, for Papa would be more vigilant than ever now, and leaving the house by herself would be quite out of the question.

  There was only one person to whom she could turn, and that was Drew. He was always generous in his support, and he would help her now. She waited until he was alone in the conservatory the following evening and crept in to sit on the stool at his feet.

  ‘I must talk to you, Drew.’

  ‘If it’s about Max there’s nothing I can do.’ He was lighting a cigar and he looked at her over the match flame.

  Ellie wrung her fingers together and tried to summon up some
courage. She swallowed hard. ‘If I tell you something, will you swear never to speak of it to a living soul? Especially not to Papa or Mama.’

  ‘Sounds dramatic.’

  ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Will you swear on oath?’

  ‘I swear on oath,’ he repeated, but there was a teasing tone in his voice. Then he saw her distress and became serious. ‘What is it, Ellie? You know you can trust me.’

  She hesitated, searching for words, and tears glinted in her eyes. ‘I’ve got to marry Max, quickly, whatever Papa says. Do you understand? I’m having a baby. You’ve got to help me.’

  Drew’s reaction was different from anything she had expected. He stubbed out the cigar he had just lit with furious stabbing movements. His face became dark and angry, his lips tightened into a hard line, and the pupils of his eyes dilated.

  ‘I’ll kill him,’ he said, through clenched teeth. ‘He’s taken advantage of your innocence and I’ll kill him.’

  Ellie cried out. ‘No, Drew! He didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘What was it then?’ He got up, took hold of her shoulders and shook her. ‘If you’re pregnant he must have harmed you.’

  ‘Oh Drew, please hush! I love him, you know I do.’

  ‘The bastard — he defiled you. I’ll make him pay if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘Drew …’ Her brother wouldn’t listen. She hardly recognised him as he strode out of the conservatory like a warrior about to do battle, anger apparent in every line of his body. ‘Where are you going? Drew, don’t hurt him. Drew —’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want Father to know anything,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘The whole house’ll hear you.’

  She ran after him, her skirt gathered up above her ankles. ‘Wait for me. You can’t go without me.’

  Drew didn’t look back. He snatched his gloves from the vestibule table and swept out through the back entrance to the stables. The air was sultry and stormclouds were gathering in heavy thunderheads over the lake. Ellie was close on his heels. She climbed into the gig while the groom was still harnessing it, and when Drew tried to lift her down she kicked his shins.

  ‘I won’t let you go without me!’

  ‘You’re mad, Ellie. Get back indoors.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  He rubbed the fronts of his legs. ‘All right then, come with me and see the bastard get a thrashing.’

  ‘He’s your friend, Drew.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  A stable-boy opened the gates and Drew drove the gig out into the avenue at frenzied speed. Ellie clung to the seat to keep her balance as they swerved round a corner.

  ‘How do you know where to find him?’ she cried.

  ‘I’ll try every bar in Kensington.’

  ‘He’s staying with his parents in the city.’

  ‘At this time of the evening Max Berman will be in some shady bar-room talking workers’ rights. He’s a troublemaker.’

  ‘And so are you,’ she countered. Her face was flushed, her hands clammy with fear and the heat of the August evening. ‘You’ve no right to judge him.’

  Flying hoofs pounded the streets and scattered pedestrians as Drew urged the horse on. They travelled along Cottage Grove Avenue, crossed 103rd Street and 111th Street at the southern part of Pullman to reach Kensington, a shabby district which straddled the Illinois Central line a mile west of Lake Calumet. It was known as ‘bumtown’ for very good reason. The tenements were slums, the streets smelt of decaying vegetation, and grog shops abounded. Saloon-keepers had grown rich on the men from Pullman who had no bars of their own to frequent, George Pullman only allowing the sale of alcohol in the Florence Hotel.

  Drew threw Ellie a tartan cover and she put it round her shoulders to hide her gown.

  ‘Drape it over your head and try not to look conspicuous,’ he warned, as they slowed to walking pace beside the long row of saloons on 115th Street. ‘Men come here through alleys so as not to be seen.’

  ‘I’m scared,’ she said.

  ‘Too late for that.’ He stopped at a place called Downey’s. ‘This is where he’ll be.’ Drew climbed down and hitched the horse to a post. Ellie scrambled down after him but he forced her back against the gig. ‘Women don’t go in these places. Stay here.’

  She was terrified. There was very little light in the street and men were starting to take an unhealthy interest in the smart vehicle foreign to the area. Shaking, she cried: ‘You can’t leave me.’

  Drew looked around and saw the danger, and at last he was contrite. ‘You’re right. I can’t.’

  In his frockcoat and silk cravat he was equally conspicuous, and she was afraid of him being jumped on at any moment by thieves. Drew was no weakling, but against a gang he would be overpowered.

  The door of the saloon opened and a group of men spilt out, laughing and singing as if they were celebrating. Ellie shrank against her brother in consternation, fearing they were drunks who might see sport in the gentry trespassing on their territory, but they were too intent on ribald jokes directed at the tallest of them whose head was bent to ward off slaps and friendly punches.

  ‘Never thought I’d see the day when a woman caught you,’ one was saying.

  ‘How’ll you like being married like the rest of us?’

  ‘Tamed at last, Max Berman.’

  Ellie shrieked. Max raised his head, and their eyes met. She wanted to run to him but Drew anticipated the move and restrained her.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he commanded.

  The mood of the men changed and they became dangerously quiet, staring at the newcomers. One tied his scarf round his knuckles as though expecting trouble. Then Max strode forward and faced Drew angrily.

  ‘What the hell do you mean by bringing Ellie here? Are you out of your mind? Have you any idea of the danger you put her in?’

  Drew retaliated. ‘What do you care? You’ve harmed her enough already.’

  ‘Who will you be marrying, Max?’ asked Ellie, her voice stronger than she was feeling. She would faint right away if he had taken Papa’s word as final and settled for some other girl.

  He was instantly reassuring. ‘Why you, of course. Who else? Our child must be born in wedlock.’

  ‘Oh, Max! And Drew was coming to kill you.’

  Ellie broke free and threw herself on him, as if to protect him with her body, yet Drew had made no belligerent move or gesture. The men moved forward and surrounded him, full of menace, but they underestimated him if they thought he would be intimidated. He had worked with rougher than these.

  ‘Is this the truth, Berman?’ he asked, his jaw jutting. No one touched him.

  ‘I’d planned to marry her tomorrow,’ Max said. ‘I didn’t know how to get her here, but you’ve solved the problem, my friend. Now we can get married tonight instead.’ His arms came round her and the strength in his body brought renewed vitality to her own.

  ‘Father’s forbidden it,’ shouted Drew. ‘I forbid it.’

  ‘You can’t,’ cried Ellie. ‘It’s my life. I’m going to marry him.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be glad I’m doing the honourable thing?’ ‘This is no place to be discussing rights and wrongs. We must go somewhere private.’

  Ellie was no longer afraid. She heard her brother and her lover arguing heatedly, but she was too excited to pay heed. Max’s protective arm gave her courage. The men had been joined by others drawn to investigate the commotion and he turned to face them.

  ‘Wish us well, my friends. This is my bride. We’re going back to Pullman to get married.’

  Drew dragged Ellie to the gig, out of earshot. ‘Is this really what you want, Ellie? You know Father will never speak to you again.’

  ‘He’ll understand.’

  ‘Never.’ He handed her up into the carriage. ‘I can drive you straight home.’

  ‘My home’s going to be with Max from now on.’

  Max escaped from his jost
ling friends and sprang up into the seat beside her just as Drew pulled on the reins and guided the horse round to face the way they had come. There was hardly room for three in the gig but Ellie didn’t mind the squash. It helped to quell her wild joy which made her want to stand up in the moving vehicle and shout to all the world that she was going to be Max Berman’s wife.

  But there was still plenty of argument in Drew. ‘If you think you’re going to get your hands on some money by marrying my sister, you’re wrong,’ he said, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the wheels on the cobbled road. ‘Father will cut Ellie off without a cent.’

  ‘I’d never accept his money.’

  ‘Have you thought what it’ll mean to you, Ellie, living without any luxuries?’ Drew persisted.

  ‘I don’t need them.’

  ‘I can support a wife without help,’ said Max scornfully. ‘Ellie must get used to my way of living, that’s all. And had I really been mercenary, I could have made you persuade your father to take me into the family.’

  ‘Impossible!’

  ‘I think not. You wouldn’t like him to know about the letters you wrote inciting men to strike, would you, Drew?’ Max reached forward and touched the hand on the reins. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to blackmail you. You’re my friend.’

  Drew was not won over and his disapproval was still evident as he urged the horse to greater speed and turned towards Pullman. ‘I guess if you’re the one Ellie’s set her heart on I’ll have to put up with it,’ he said finally, but without enthusiasm. ‘I could probably do worse for a brother-in-law.’

  ‘Drew, I love you,’ cried Ellie, hugging his arm.

  An hour later Elena Harvey became Max’s wife at a ceremony performed by a Justice of the Peace in the main lounge of the Florence Hotel. The witnesses were her brother Drew and a stranger who happened to be staying there.

  *

  Hedda Berman looked at the beautiful creature in her living room and wished she could howl like the wolves which had prowled near her home when she’d been a girl. So gracious and poised was the young woman her son had brought home. So young, yet so worldly. At first glance she could have been Jewish with her glossy black hair, but her skin was like pale porcelain, her eyes the blue of a summer sky, and her nose small and straight. Hedda knew instinctively that she was not a child of Zion. Her clothes were of fine quality, even though she was dressed plainly, but such things were not important. She had expected that when Max chose a young lady, she would be homely like Laban’s Elizabeth.