The atmosphere seemed thick with unsaid words, and it was Levi’s impression that most of those words were Charity’s. He let a smile turn up his mouth in hopes that it would make the others smile, too.
He was a performer, playing his part. It was his performance that had sold Joice Heth to the world. For the first time that thought heartened him. Barnum would never be able to sell a mermaid to the public without Levi. That meant Levi would always be with Amelia, making sure Barnum treated her well.
And he’d always be with Amelia. That was a reward in itself.
“How are you feeling now? The cook sent this for you,” he said, presenting the tray with a flourish.
Caroline wriggled away from Amelia so the mermaid could take the tray. Amelia set it in her lap and wrinkled her nose at the dish.
Levi laughed at her expression, and all the ladies looked at him in surprise, even little Helen. His laugh cut through the miasma of unspoken things, made it dissipate. Caroline laughed, too—the laughter of a child who doesn’t know why she’s doing it, only that the grown-ups are and she wants to be a part of it, too.
“I don’t like beef tea, either,” Levi confided to Amelia. “Caroline, do you think you could go to the kitchen and have a pot of regular tea made up?”
He cut his eyes to Charity, who nodded.
“And bring lots of sugar,” he added, winking at Amelia.
She gave him a startled look, though he didn’t know if it was because she was surprised he remembered or just because he’d winked at her.
“And can we have some bread and butter also?” Caroline asked, abandoning her new friend for the delights of ordering tea just like a grown-up.
When Caroline left, Levi asked again, “And how are you feeling now, Mrs. Douglas?”
She stared at him with those eyes, those very straightforward eyes, and said, “That is not what you wish to know, Mr. Lyman. You wish to know why I am here after I was so rude about your offer.”
Charity shifted, her petticoats rustling. She was clearly uncomfortable with this degree of frankness.
Levi, though, was already accustomed to the mermaid’s ways. It felt natural to meet her honesty with his own.
“Yes, I wondered that.”
Amelia took a deep breath, and Levi felt she stood on some great precipice. He wished he could tell her that he was there beside her and that he wouldn’t let her fall.
“I wish to accept Mr. Barnum’s offer of employment. And I have some terms of my own as well,” she said.
Of course this was why she came. She wanted something, and Barnum could give it to her. Levi remembered the simple cottage in Maine, the handmade furnishings, the threadbare dress she wore. She needed money. Well, he would make certain that she got it. This would not be like Joice Heth again.
Perhaps if he repeated it to himself enough times it would be true—not like Joice Heth, not like Joice Heth. Barnum wasn’t going to take Amelia and make her perform even if she didn’t want to. He wasn’t going to cheat her of money for his own benefit. Levi would be there to make sure of it. Though the person who needed to hear that this would not be like Joice Heth was Barnum. Barnum’s memory could be dangerously short.
“Should I speak directly to Mr. Barnum, or do you represent him?” the mermaid asked.
Levi did not think it was a good idea to bring Barnum in at this stage. He might scare Amelia off. Not that Barnum wasn’t any good at negotiating deals—he was, exceptionally so—but Levi didn’t think Barnum’s hard tactics would work in this case.
“Mr. Barnum intended for me to represent him all along,” Levi said easily. “And I’m certain we can come to terms that suit everyone. There’s just one small matter we need to resolve before any performance.”
Amelia understood him immediately. “I have to show you that I really am a mermaid.”
Charity gave a little gasp, and Levi and Amelia both turned toward her. Levi had half forgotten Barnum’s wife was in the room. The world had narrowed to just him and Amelia.
Charity’s face reddened. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense, Levi! It’s one thing for this woman to tell stories to Caroline, but you should know better. You’re a grown man.” She turned to Amelia. “And you, Mrs. Douglas—if I had any idea that you were planning to deceive my husband in such a way, I would not have had you in my parlor.”
“It’s not deception, Mrs. Barnum,” Amelia said. “And I can prove it.”
Levi knew it had cost Charity something to say those words, especially when she was usually withdrawn in company. He also knew that anything she said was less about Amelia than it was about Barnum. Charity endured more than anyone, scraping by while Barnum pursued fame, fortune, and the general fanfare of his name. Barnum also wasn’t averse to mocking Charity when with others. It was likely the best thing for her that Barnum wasn’t often in the family apartment.
“It’s not a humbug, Charity,” Levi said, but gently. He didn’t want to dismiss her as he’d seen Barnum do so often.
“Of course it is! It’s just another one of Taylor’s ridiculous schemes, and this woman is a part of it. There are no such things as mermaids,” Charity snapped.
Amelia only shook her head and said, “I’m sorry you think so.”
Levi stood. “Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere. You shouldn’t get so excited in your condition, Charity.”
“Sit down, Levi Lyman,” Charity said. “I know better than you what I can and can’t do in my condition. It’s not appropriate for you to take this woman somewhere else after placing her in my care. Besides, if she’s here to speak to Taylor, then there is no better place than his own parlor.”
Levi could have pointed out that these statements clearly contradicted her earlier feelings, but he sensed that Charity was in uncharted waters. She knew very well that Barnum was a regular old confidence man and that he recruited folks to perpetuate his legends.
But Amelia was something else, something different. Even in the conviction of disbelief Charity could sense that, Levi was certain. He’d felt it himself when first in Amelia’s presence.
It was her eyes. Those eyes were not human, and they never would be, no matter how long she lived among them. She hadn’t caught the habit of looking away periodically when talking or demurely casting her eyes downward.
Levi wondered what her husband had been like. Her directness must not have troubled him, else she would have at least tried for his sake. She seemed to have loved him that much.
* * *
• • •
And so Amelia and Levi agreed to their terms of employment under Charity’s disapproving eye. Amelia wanted a certain salary; Levi convinced her to ask for less but take a percentage of the ticket sales. Barnum was sure to make money hand over fist off this woman, and any salary he paid her would be much less than she could take in sales. They agreed to a trial period of six months, after which either party could leave or a new contract could be negotiated.
At this point Levi was glad of Charity’s presence. He wanted a witness in case Barnum decided to ignore the six-month provision and try to force Amelia to stay. There was no fear that Charity would side with Barnum in that case—she was scrupulously honest and didn’t mind contradicting him if the truth required it.
Amelia didn’t know all the terms and phrases used in contracts, but she clearly knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. She told Levi she wanted enough money to travel the world. He forbore from telling her that women didn’t generally travel about on their own—there was no point in discouraging her, it might make her leave—but he knew she’d need a great deal more than she had now. He couldn’t guarantee her enough money to see everything she wanted to see, but he promised to make a good start of it. It made Levi feel better knowing that she wasn’t about to let Barnum take advantage of her, and that he could guide her in that effort.
And he’d be there to make sure of that in any case. He wouldn’t let her sign a contract that wouldn’t benefit her.
Levi said he would have it all written up, and then she and Barnum could sign it so it would be official. He saw a flicker in Amelia’s eyes and wondered if she already had second thoughts.
He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “Now to tell Taylor,” he said, and frowned a little. “We’ll have to make an arrangement for your, er, demonstration as well. At a date and time of your choosing.”
Amelia nodded at this, though Charity scowled.
Caroline, who had returned partway through the proceedings proudly bearing a tea tray, spoke through a mouthful of bread and butter.
“Are you going to show how you turn into a mermaid? Oh, I want to see that!”
“And you will,” Levi said. “Soon everyone in New York City will see the marvelous wonder of Barnum’s mermaid.”
Amelia’s hands clenched suddenly, as if she didn’t like the idea of being “Barnum’s” mermaid.
“It’s not too late,” Levi said softly.
She looked up at him, her gaze hardening. “I won’t change my mind.”
He reached out a hand to her. She stared at it for so long he wondered if she would take it. Finally, she placed her fingers in his. Levi was struck by the sudden desire to hold tight, to never let her go. Only the certain knowledge that she would hate anyone who tried to catch her let him release her once she was standing.
“Where is Mr. Barnum?” she asked.
Levi grinned. “In the museum, of course. He’s an exhibit.”
“Just like me,” Amelia murmured.
No, Levi thought. There’s no one in the world like you, and as soon as Barnum sees you he’ll know it, too.
* * *
• • •
Barnum didn’t seem to belong in his own parlor. That was the first thing Amelia thought when she saw him.
Levi had gone to fetch Barnum from the museum—“It won’t do to have this conversation out in the open with everyone watching,” he’d said—and Amelia had waited in the apartment with a silent Charity and a chattering Caroline. The toddler, Helen, began to fuss just as Levi returned with Barnum, and Charity seized the opportunity to depart, bestowing a cold nod on Amelia as she left.
Amelia was sorry the other woman thought her a trickster, but there was nothing to be done about it. When Amelia was in a tank in the museum and Charity finally saw her there, she would have to believe. In the meantime, there wasn’t any purpose in trying to change Charity’s mind.
Barnum wasn’t especially tall or especially handsome—he had dark curly hair and a squashed potato nose and a dent in his chin and dressed like most of the other men she’d seen in New York. He would have been perfectly ordinary except for his manner, which seemed to suck up all the air in the room. There was more of his personality than could fit inside his body, and she could see how he could trample you with that personality. Amelia was fairly certain he’d already done it to Charity, and she wasn’t about to let him do it to her.
“Mrs. Douglas, Mrs. Douglas,” Barnum said, grasping her hand and shaking it up and down with more force than was strictly necessary. “So my friend Levi here managed to convince you to come and see us, did he? You’ll be our mermaid in the museum?”
“Yes,” Amelia said.
She could tell by his expression that he expected her to say more. To his credit, he didn’t linger or indicate that she was at fault but rolled on with his own conversation.
“Now Levi tells me that the two of you have come to some agreements about terms. He’s a lawyer so he’s going to lay all of this out for us in a contract and then we’ll both sign it and it will be all legal and binding.”
She didn’t really care for the way he said “binding”; it made her think he was imagining something more permanent than she intended.
“Why don’t we have Mr. Lyman review the terms for us now?” she said coolly. “There is one term, in particular, that should be clear before we go on.”
“I’m certain that any financial arrangement—” Barnum began, but Amelia interrupted him. She felt a flash of satisfaction when she saw irritation cross his face.
“It’s not about finances. It’s about my magic,” she said. “As part of the terms I need to demonstrate to you that I am, in fact, a mermaid. You can likely tell me where is the best place for this demonstration, but I will tell you that I need both privacy and the cover of darkness. As well as salt water, of course. There is no change without salt water.”
This time she had managed to silence him. A number of feelings marched in succession—surprise, disbelief, and finally indulgence.
Ah. He’s going to go along with me because he thinks I’m touched in the head.
“Yes, of course,” he said smoothly. “Whatever you like, my dear.”
He won’t be “my dear”-ing me later, Amelia thought. He won’t be able to believe his eyes.
It was the first time she’d ever truly acknowledged to herself that she was something unique among humans, that her ability made her special. Just thinking it made her realize something she’d not thought about properly before.
Barnum needed her. Oh, he could certainly fake up a mermaid with a girl and a costume, but it wouldn’t be like her. It wouldn’t be a real mermaid.
He needed her, though he might not know how much yet.
She gave a little smile and nodded to Levi. “Let’s discuss our terms, then, Mr. Barnum.”
* * *
• • •
The boy had done it. He’d done it.
Barnum had thought when Levi returned from Maine empty-handed that he’d be stuck showing that old mummy Moses brought him. Lord knew it would have been a slog to sell that shriveled thing—though he could have done it, he was sure; he could sell anything to anybody, and anyone who knew him could tell the truth of that.
But this girl! Never mind her claim that she was a real mermaid—a thing Barnum could hardly countenance—she looked like a real mermaid. All that black hair flowing everywhere and her eyes . . . Barnum had never seen eyes like that.
He knew now why there were so many rumors about her. And of course, the woman seemed to believe it herself. She was addled, no doubt, but her belief would help sell the mermaid notion to the public.
He’d have to keep her contact with newspapermen at a minimum, at least at first. The girl was a little too honest. Those remarks about the “dead things” in the museum wouldn’t do. Levi could do all the talking for the time being. He was good at that.
Barnum would think up a spectacular costume for her. It would be tricky, because as Levi said there were always the church ladies to consider, and church ladies would not approve of a bare-chested nymph frolicking in the water.
Barnum remembered those grim-faced women at the Congregational Church in Bethel, and Sundays spent on hard wooden pews being told that man was by nature depraved, that God had selected a chosen few to enter heaven and that everyone else was destined for hell no matter what they did in life.
He’d decided pretty young that if it didn’t matter what he did, he might as well have fun. As a showman, he downright relied on humankind’s essentially depraved nature.
Barnum hoped that the girl—Amelia, her name was—wouldn’t object to the type of costume he wanted. Which reminded him that he would have to get her to eat more. She was as thin as a washboard. Men liked to see a nice, round, healthy-looking woman—round in all the right places, that is. He’d speak to Charity about it, make sure his wife knew the girl was to eat and to have Cook make plenty of fattening foods.
Charity hadn’t liked the notion of the woman staying with them in their apartment, but Barnum had stood firm. It was his apartment and his museum, and he wouldn’t have his mermaid walking to and from a boardinghouse like some common serving ma
id.
At least he wouldn’t have her doing that until she’d made her debut to the world. The first glimpse anyone would have of that girl would be onstage in the museum.
After that, any public appearances (including walking to and from appropriate lodgings) would be in the interests of publicity.
Barnum frowned, thinking of the plain wool dress and ugly shoes Amelia wore. He’d have to buy her a new wardrobe. She needed both fashionable day wear and some exotic and glamorous things, something that would befit a mermaid.
While he was at it, he’d have to come up with a better name for her. “Amelia Douglas from the Middle of Nowhere, Maine” didn’t have a ring to it. Everyone knew mermaids were from warm places, anyhow, not some ice-encrusted northern town.
The Caribbean Mermaid? The Bermuda Mermaid? No. He’d think of something, though. His mermaid was going to be a wonder such that the world had never seen.
There were other problems to consider. He’d need a tank big enough to show the girl—though she was skinny, she wasn’t the size of a goldfish, and she would need room to swim around. That would cost a fair bit; he’d have to find someone to make a tank especially for him.
Then there was the trick of showing the mermaid’s “change.” There would have to be some illusion involved there. No one, not even the most gullible audience members, would buy that the girl was a mermaid if they didn’t see her walking on two legs first.
He knew a bit about magician’s illusions. There had been a magician in Barnum’s Grand Scientific and Musical Theater traveling show. He had seen Joe Pentland practicing his tricks plenty of times, and Barnum knew about things like holes in the floor to pass new objects into a hat or the sleight of hand that disguised the disappearance and reappearance of a coin.
Once Barnum had actually stood in as an assistant when the original man ran off right before a show. His mind tried to slide away from what happened next—how was he to know that squirrel would bite? Pentland had pulled that creature out of his hat dozens of times without incident.
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