Mrs. Bates came into the bedroom, being very careful not to open the connecting door too wide and give the gentlemen a glimpse of the girls. “How are you two feeling this morning?” she asked.
“Not as well as you,” Elizabeth said. Mrs. Bates was dressed and had been taking her meals with David and her son.
“I never thought being a bit plump would be an advantage in life,” Mrs. Bates said, “but if you’re going to participate in a hunger strike, I highly recommend it.” She stopped beside the table and looked at their plates with a critical eye. “Can’t you eat just a little more, Anna?”
“No, she can’t,” Elizabeth said, earning a grateful glance from Anna. “I already nagged her.”
“All right, then,” Mrs. Bates said with false enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t believe any of us will recover completely until we’re home. If you feel up to it, I’d like to take the afternoon train, Anna. The sooner we get you back to your mother’s loving arms, the better.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Anna said. “But what about Elizabeth? Surely, you aren’t going to send her all the way to South Dakota by herself.”
“I really don’t think it would be a good idea,” Mrs. Bates said. “I think it’s too soon for her to make a trip like that, and I’m hoping she’ll come home with us for a while, but that’s Elizabeth’s decision.”
“No, it isn’t,” Anna said, surprising both of her companions. “She’s coming home with me until she’s completely recovered. Mother can take care of both of us.”
“Are you sure your mother wouldn’t mind?” Elizabeth didn’t really care if the mother minded or not. Sticking with Anna was the safest course for her right now. Besides, she wanted to stay with Anna and she certainly needed to get to New York.
“If it makes her daughter happy, she won’t mind a bit,” Mrs. Bates said. “So that’s settled. All we need to do now is get your luggage from your other hotel, Elizabeth, and we can be on our way.”
She said something else, about how she’d had the maid freshen up the clothes Elizabeth had worn to the workhouse, but Elizabeth was no longer listening. How was she going to go to some hotel where she’d never stayed and retrieve luggage they didn’t have?
• • •
“I’m glad to see you looking so much better, Miss Miles,” Gideon Bates said while they waited on the sidewalk for the Willard Hotel doorman to summon a cab.
“Are you saying I looked terrible before, Mr. Bates?” Elizabeth replied.
But instead of being chastened, he said, “Yes, I am. I’ve hardly ever seen a woman look worse. You were practically at death’s door.”
“Oh, please have mercy, Mr. Bates. Your charm is overwhelming me.”
“Which, of course, was my intent all along,” he assured her with his overwhelmingly charming smile.
Somehow Elizabeth managed to remain unmoved by it.
A cab had pulled up and the doorman opened the door for them. When they were settled inside, Elizabeth gave the driver the name of the hotel she’d gotten from one of the bellmen when she’d asked him to suggest a respectable hotel where a single woman alone might stay.
The cab chugged off, leaving her nothing to do now but talk to Gideon Bates. If only he wasn’t quite so handsome and quite so appealing. She’d wanted David Vanderslice to accompany her. She could have told him any kind of tale, and he wouldn’t have dreamed of questioning her. But Mrs. Bates had insisted that Gideon go with her.
“Do you really think they’ll still have my luggage?” she asked, laying the groundwork for the misfortune that was going to befall her.
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t know. It just seems . . . Well, it might have been stolen or something. I’ve been gone a long time.”
“I suppose that’s possible, but not likely in a hotel like that.”
Elizabeth frowned, hoping she looked like a helpless young woman with little experience of the world. “Does that happen often?”
“What?”
“That someone staying in a hotel disappears and leaves their luggage behind.”
“I doubt it.”
Which just proved how much he knew. It happened all the time. Grifters always carried a cheap suitcase stuffed with newspapers that they could leave behind when they ran out on the bill so the hotel staff wouldn’t know they were gone until it was too late. “Then they might not realize they should keep the luggage until the person returns.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with that wonderful smile that made her really want to believe everything was going to be all right. “I’ll make sure they find your things.”
Which was the last thing she wanted. She could have groaned. “Mr. Bates, would you mind . . . ? I mean . . .” She frowned her helpless frown again.
“I’ll do whatever you wish, Miss Miles,” he said, and she was sure he would at least try.
She rewarded him with a smile of her own. “I’d like to go in alone, if you don’t mind. No, wait. Hear me out. You see, it’s very . . . embarrassing to admit one has been in jail, even for the best of causes.”
“Which is why I’m happy to do it for you,” he argued.
“No, please. If there’s any hope at all, a young woman alone is much more likely to win their pity than her overbearing escort.”
“Overbearing?” He seemed genuinely offended.
“As I’m sure you would become on my behalf if you felt I wasn’t receiving the right treatment.”
He couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t try, but she didn’t like the way he was looking at her now, as if he’d seen something disturbing. What had she done to earn that look? She really needed to be more than careful with him.
Finally, he said, “So you want to go into the hotel alone to request your luggage, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind too terribly much. And rest assured, if I have any trouble at all, I’ll summon you immediately.”
He considered this for a long moment before he said, “All right, but don’t let them fob you off.”
“Oh, I won’t,” she lied, and rewarded him with another smile.
She left him waiting with the cab and walked into the quiet elegance of the hotel lobby. This place was tiny compared to the Willard, and no political hacks sat in the lobby waiting for someone important to walk by. Instead, a few well-dressed gentlemen read newspapers in the comfortable chairs, and bellmen moved soundlessly over the carpeted floors, carrying things here and there.
She walked up to the desk, in case Bates was watching her, and asked the clerk for the time. Then she mentioned she was meeting some other ladies and went over to an empty chair and sat down. A lone female wouldn’t sit long in a hotel lobby, but Elizabeth needed a moment to think. She could lie to Gideon and tell him her things had been stolen, but then he’d insist on seeing the manager and making a fuss. She thought of several other versions of the same lie, but they all ended with no luggage and Bates making a fuss. She could always tell him the truth, of course, that she was a grifter on the run who had never stayed at this hotel at all, but that didn’t seem like a very good idea, either. The only other alternative was for her to find a back door, sneak out and disappear. She had money in her purse and more in her corset. She could go to the station and take a train for New York. She’d be safe from Thornton and she wouldn’t have to lie to Gideon. It was the only sensible thing to do, after all. That’s what the Old Man would say, she was sure.
So why was she still sitting here?
Because she could imagine how frantic Gideon Bates would be and how upset Mrs. Bates would be and how devastated Anna would be if she just disappeared. How they would have the hotel searched and summon the authorities. And how very, very frightened they would be for her. She tried to tell herself they were nothing to her, so what did she care? They’d forget all abo
ut her in a week.
Except that wasn’t true. They would never forget her, just as she would never forget them.
Which was why she was still sitting there when the elevator opened and a heavily laden luggage cart rolled out. One of the Negro bellmen was taking great care that the enormous stack of matched luggage on it didn’t tip.
A young woman and an older man came out behind him. “Be careful with that,” she snapped at the bellman. “Do you have any idea how expensive those cases are?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the bellman murmured.
“Honestly, where do they find these creatures?” she asked her companion. “He’s so stupid and clumsy. An ape could do this job better.”
“It’s all right, my dear,” the man soothed.
She heaved a dramatic sigh and sashayed around the luggage cart, stepping right in front of it so the bellman had to jerk it back to avoid running her over. The sudden stop upset the delicate balance of the luggage, and the smaller cases on top of the pile crashed to the floor before he could catch them. He only just managed to keep the entire load from falling over.
“You stupid idiot!” she screamed. “What’s the matter with you? I should have your job for that.”
“Now, darling, there’s no harm done,” the older man said.
“No harm?” she screeched. “Those cases are ruined. I want them replaced!”
The man continued to soothe her while she continued to heap abuse on the poor bellman, although Elizabeth had stopped listening. She watched them closely as the bellman picked up the cases and reloaded the cart. The woman was about her size. And the bellman—who was at least thirty—was moving the way someone moves when they’re furious but don’t dare let anyone know. And he wouldn’t dare, either, not if he wanted to keep his job. A man like that, a colored man serving rich white people, had silently taken a lifetime of abuse with no hope of any retribution. This time the white woman had caused the accident herself and berated him in front of everyone in the lobby. She might well try to get him fired, too, and after all that, the man probably wouldn’t even give him a tip.
But Elizabeth would.
She waited until the couple went to the front desk. They were still arguing, and it would take a few minutes for them to check out. More than a few, because the woman was making a complaint. The bellman had finished reloading the luggage, so Elizabeth strolled over to him. She slipped a five-dollar bill into his hand, which was probably more than he made in a week, and said, “These are my things. My cab is right outside.”
His eyes widened, and he glanced over to where the couple was still arguing at the desk. She saw him silently weighing his options. Anger flared in his eyes, and then he smiled grimly. “Yes, ma’am.” He pushed the cart a little faster.
Elizabeth followed, giving no indication she was with him. Outside, she saw Gideon pacing beside the cab, which had pulled down to the far end of the driveway. “Here we are,” she called and strolled down to where he waited. The bellman followed with the cart.
Gideon’s expression was priceless. “Is that all yours?”
Elizabeth had no idea. She turned to the bellman, who grinned. “Oh no, sir. Only the green cases is the lady’s.” The rest, Elizabeth supposed, belonged to the man who was with her.
The cab driver opened his trunk, and they managed to get most of the green cases into it. The rest went into the front seat.
“Will you get into trouble?” she asked the bellman when the driver and Gideon were busy trying to squeeze the last of the cases into the cab.
“Oh no, ma’am. They won’t remember which one of us took their luggage. We all look alike to folks like them. When my boss gets around to asking me, I’ll say the cart was just sitting in the lobby and a young lady told me it was hers and would I take it out for her.”
Which, of course, was almost exactly what had happened.
When all the luggage was loaded, Elizabeth made a show of reaching into her purse for a tip, but Gideon waved her away and produced a silver dollar for the helpful bellman.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, beaming with pleasure at the exceptionally large tip. Combined with Elizabeth’s fiver, he’d had a very good morning. “You have a nice day now, miss.”
“I’m sure I will,” she replied.
• • •
Gideon watched Elizabeth Miles from the corner of his eye as the cab carried them and her enormous pile of luggage back to the Willard. He would have been surprised to see any female carrying that amount of luggage, but somehow he hadn’t thought Miss Miles to be the kind of woman to require that much. Or to be wealthy enough to own enough clothing to fill it all. He considered himself a good judge of people, and seldom had he been so very wrong about someone.
“Did they give you any trouble at the hotel?” he asked.
“Oh no. After I settled my bill, they were more than happy to return my things. They didn’t even charge me for the days I was in jail.”
“They must’ve been surprised to hear where you’d been,” he said, watching her face.
She didn’t even blink. “They were actually very sympathetic. It seems the manager supports women’s rights.”
“That’s fortunate,” he said, thinking it was more than fortunate. So much for her concerns that her luggage might have somehow disappeared. He should be pleased, and he was, he supposed. He hadn’t expected any real trouble, but he had expected his own services to be needed. And appreciated. Maybe that was why he felt something wasn’t quite right with this situation. Maybe he was just suffering from wounded pride. Every other female of his acquaintance would have not only allowed but expected him to take charge.
But maybe Miss Miles was completely different from every other female of his acquaintance.
His mother had hinted at that very thing, hadn’t she? “Mother told us what you went through at the workhouse.”
She didn’t seem pleased by the change of subject. “Did she?”
“Yes. She said you were very brave.”
“All the women were brave.”
“Mother said you saved Anna that first night.”
She shook her head. “Hardly. I just picked her up off the floor when the guards threw her down.”
“And you tried to talk Anna out of participating in the hunger strike.”
“Anyone with sense would’ve done the same thing.”
“And you endured force-feeding instead of giving up the hunger strike.”
“I told you that myself.”
“Then you do remember,” he teased.
She almost smiled at that. “Only vaguely.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t let me compliment your courage.”
“And I don’t understand why you want to.”
Why did he want to? Because he wanted her to know that he admired her, and not just because she was so lovely. “You’re a very unusual woman, Miss Miles.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, sounding oddly defensive. “I’m just like every other woman.”
“Every other woman would’ve waited in the cab and sent me in to fetch her luggage.”
She turned to him in surprise and studied his face for a long moment, giving him the opportunity to admire her amazing eyes. Were they the color of periwinkles or the sky on a cloudless day?
“Did I insult your manhood, Mr. Bates?”
“Thoroughly, Miss Miles. I may never recover.”
She almost smiled again. “Then I apologize most humbly.”
He pretended to consider her offer. “I’m afraid that’s not enough.”
“Then what more can I do to make amends?”
Gideon could think of many things he’d like her to do, but she wasn’t likely to do any of them, and she was very likely to be outraged if he suggested any of them, so he said, “You can tell me how you became a suffragist an
d why you decided to make the trip to Washington.”
He’d expected her to really smile at that and to happily tell him all about the amazing women who had influenced her awakening. Every suffragist he’d ever met was only too happy to speak of her conversion, and they all did so with great enthusiasm. To his surprise, however, Elizabeth Miles merely looked dismayed. Or at least he thought dismay was the emotion that flickered across her face before she said, “I can’t believe that story is of interest to anyone but me, and I refuse to bore you with it. You’ll have to think of something else.”
“All right, then, tell me why you’ve decided to go back to the city with us.”
“You should be able to guess that. Your mother willed it.”
“Ah, of course. And Anna, too, I’m sure.”
“And I was powerless to resist them.”
“Oh, Miss Miles, I don’t imagine you’ve ever been powerless.”
Once again that strange emotion flickered across her beautiful face. Why had his compliment disturbed her?
“Women are by our very nature powerless in so many ways, Mr. Bates. As the son of a suffragist, you should know that only too well.”
And he did, of course, but still . . . “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad you’ve decided to go with us.”
He’d half expected her to coyly ask him why, the way the society girls he knew would have, but instead she said, “And I’m sure after all you’ve been through, you’ll be glad to get back home.”
“I’m glad this ordeal with my mother is over, at least.”
“And we’re very grateful for your help. I’m sure the rest of the ladies will be, too, when they learn what you did.”
Gideon’s pride finally started to feel a little better. “That’s what attorneys do, Miss Miles. We keep our clients out of jail.”
“Your profession must give you a great deal of satisfaction, then.”
Gideon had never considered whether it did or not. He was an attorney because young men like him who needed a profession often became attorneys. And because his father had been one.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
City of Lies Page 14