by Renee Yancy
Claudine entered the dressing room. “Chérie? You rang for me?”
“Yes. I’m going to walk with Aunt Gertrude, so I need to change.”
“Certainly.” Claudine moved into the second part of the dressing room. “Which one do you prefer?” She held up two choices.
Lindy considered them. Which one would be more comfortable? “The green, I think.”
A few moments later, she stood before the cheval mirror and examined the walking suit. Soft green wool, with a long tunic-like jacket, belted smartly around her waist and buttoned with two large jet buttons. Long sleeves turned at the cuff to reveal black-and-white striped lining. A smaller bustle, with a shorter and wider skirt allowed for stepping off curbs and getting into carriages.
“It’s quite comfortable, actually.”
A hat of black straw matched the outfit, wired in a flowerpot shape, with a hatband of iridescent green silk adorned with a peacock feather.
Claudine unpinned Lindy’s hair and twisted it into a higher coil to fit under the hat and secured it with several hatpins. “Voilà! Très charmant.”
The west wing of the mansion held the Michelangelo suite and the other guest bedrooms. As she turned down the corridor, Percy and another manservant hustled a painting at least eight feet long and as tall as they were along the hallway. The butler’s normally smooth features were flushed, and he had removed his jacket, revealing large wet spots in the armpits of his immaculate white shirt.
She’d never seen him without his formal frockcoat. “Percy, what on earth?”
“Madame Gertrude’s wishes,” Percy gasped, without slowing down. “Careful, Edward! Don’t push.”
Grunting, the men continued down the hallway, followed by two grooms lugging a rolled tapestry on their shoulders. A parade of kitchen maids came after, all loaded with various impedimenta from the Michelangelo room.
“What’s happening, Molly?”
Molly shrugged and grappled for a tighter hold on the marble statuette of Venus in her arms. “I don’t rightly know, Miss Evangeline. Madame said something about too much... ornamentation in the room?”
Oh my. Mama will be furious.
“We’re taking all this to the storeroom,” said Mary Ann, her arms filled with folds of burgundy damask.
Lindy squeezed against the wall, avoiding two menservants hoisting an overstuffed chair between them. Her mother had taken special care with the Michelangelo room, personally choosing all the tapestries, painting, and statuary on a trip to Italy.
Aunt Gertrude appeared at the door of her room as the final servant departed carrying a hefty pair of putti, plump Italian angels designed to sit on a shelf and stare benevolently onto the room’s inhabitant. Lindy stifled a giggle.
Aunt Gertrude waved at her. “There you are, my girl. Ready for our walk?
Lindy stepped into the Michelangelo room, now nearly as plain as her own bedroom. Without the heavy damask drapes and the valances normally swagged across the window, sunlight streamed into the room from the tall casement windows, now wide open.
“I do hope your mother won’t mind that I’ve reordered the room.” Gertrude surveyed the nearly bare chamber. “I simply can’t think with that much fuss and feathers around me.”
Lindy smiled. “Don’t tell her. It’s much more spacious and brighter now. I see you’ve kept one painting.”
“A Bellini landscape,” said Aunt Gertrude, noting her interest. “One of the few Renaissance painters I actually admire.”
“I’d mention that particular painting if Mama asks how you like your room.”
Gertrude nodded. “Indeed, I will.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Dear me, let us be going. Teatime will be here before you know it, and I must have my walk before your dear mother presses cake and pastries upon me!”
***
The southern end of Central Park lay three blocks from the Lindenmayer mansion. Aunt Gertrude walked rapidly, swinging her arms, and before long, she had marched ten and then twenty steps ahead of Lindy.
Lindy increased her stride, but her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. “Aunt Gertrude,” she called breathless, “wait, please.” She stopped, a stitch in her side. Aunt Gertrude whirled about and marched toward her. “What is it, dear?”
“I can’t walk that fast.” Lindy tried to massage the stitch in her side through the corset. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh. Of course.” She took Lindy’s arm and steered her toward a park bench near the pond. Lindy sank onto it and groaned.
Aunt Gertrude sighed. “Drat those corsets. We have to get women out of them, that’s all there is to it.”
Lindy burst out laughing and then grabbed her side. “Oh, don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m perfectly serious, dear girl.” She leaned closer. “I never wear one myself.”
“I’m sure I wish I didn’t have to.” Lindy sighed. “But, you know Mama.”
Aunt Gertrude’s lips twitched. “I do indeed know your mother.” She pressed her lips together as if to stop herself from saying more, and pointed to several small boats coasting slowly around the pond. “Now there’s something I’d dearly love to try.”
A pontoon boat in the shape of a magnificent white swan sailed across the pond, powered by a man turning the paddle wheel with his feet.
“Oh, the swan boats? Yes, they’re popular with visitors to the park. Would you like to go on one?” That would certainly be easier than trying to walk in this corset.
“I’d like to drive one.”
Lindy gasped. “Oh, I don’t think that would be wise. Someone might see.” If her mother heard she or Aunt Gertrude had been paddling a swan boat, she would have a conniption.
Aunt Gertrude turned toward her, an amused smile on her face. “Really, dear? Who might that be? And why should I care?”
“Well...” sputtered Lindy. “I don’t know who, specifically.”
Gertrude smiled. “You’ll have to pardon me, Lindy. I haven’t cared much about what other people think for a very long time.”
Imagine not caring what people thought of you! Lindy could hardly fathom it. The public’s perception of the Lindenmayer family mattered greatly to her mother. “How did you learn not to care about others’ opinions of you, Aunt Gertrude?”
Her aunt gazed out over the pond. “It was an evolution, I suppose.” She adjusted a fold of her skirt and shifted on the bench. “I certainly didn’t plan it.”
Lindy sighed. “How lovely it must be not to care what other people think of you. To do what you like.”
“I can’t always do what I like, my dear.” Gertrude smiled. “And it wasn’t lovely, in the beginning.”
“Would you tell me about it?”
Gertrude patted Lindy’s sleeve. “Your mother would never forgive me for putting ideas in your head. She’s already worried I’ve induced you to take a walk with me.”
“She’d be surprised to know I have a few ideas of my own, Aunt Gertrude. But she doesn’t listen to me.”
Gertrude scrutinized Lindy. “There’s more going on inside that pretty head than you’ve let on.” She folded her arms, a glint of amusement in her eye. “Well then, what do you want to know?”
“The part about not caring about what people think of you.”
Gertrude crossed her arms across her chest and stared across the pond. “I suppose it started in 1863 when my fiancé died on Cemetery Ridge. He had survived the first two days at Gettysburg, only to perish on the third day of the battle.” She sighed. “My dream of marriage and children died with him. I was twenty years old.”
Only two years older than Lindy. Over the years, she’d heard her parents speak of Aunt Gertrude losing her fiancé during the Civil War, but as a child, it hadn’t touched her as it did now. She squeezed her aunt’s gloved hand gently. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Gertrude. How terrible for you.”
Gertrude smiled. “He was such a handsome man. Full of life! And so sweet to me. He was my first and last love. I could never look at another
man after that.” She smiled wryly. “Not that there were many marriageable men left after the war.” She reached under her collar and pulled out a gold locket on a fine golden chain. Inside a painted miniature of a young man with a sunny smile and a dashing mustache gazed out. A lock of blond hair lay under glass on the opposite side. “This is all I have of Stephen now.”
She closed the locket. “My father died shortly after the war ended. He didn’t see well, and I used to read the financial papers to him. That’s how I learned about banks and bonds and stocks. He left me a small inheritance, and against the advice of my brothers—” She winked at Lindy. “I began to invest my money. Cautiously, of course.” She laughed. “It amazed Otto to learn I’d actually made a profit on a smart investment. My real independence began then.”
“When you didn’t care any anymore about what people thought?”
“That took longer.” Gertrude smiled ruefully. “People whispered behind my back at dinners and parties. I was the odd one, you see, being interested in ‘manly’ things. It bothered me at first. Then I grew used to it. I had no use for parties anyway. Or fancy clothes, or most of the things society women are interested in these days.” She kissed the locket and slipped it under her collar. “But enough about me. Are you excited about your debut?”
Lindy shrugged. “Mama is more excited about it than I am, unfortunately.”
“Oh? Why?”
Lindy hesitated. “I know I should be, but actually, I’m rather dreading it.”
Aunt Gertrude nodded. “Go on.”
“Mama has so many plans for me. And I don’t seem to have a say in any of it.”
“Your mother does have a rather forceful personality.” Aunt Gertrude laughed. “I’ve been the target of it at times. So, I can only imagine what it’s like for you.”
“Yes, well,”—Lindy broke off— “she means well.” Doesn’t she? Does Mama truly have my best interests at heart? “She wants me to marry a duke.”
She regretted the words as soon as they slipped out.
But Aunt Gertrude simply nodded. “And what do you want?”
Jack.
“Someone I can’t have.”
“You have a beau? Does your mother know?”
“Oh my goodness, no. I didn’t mean that.” She wiggled her toes on the path. “Someone I met this past year. But Mama would never approve.” The image of Jack’s merry brown eyes made her wince, and a harsh wave of longing for him washed over her.
“Is it truly impossible?”
“I’ve recently said goodbye to him.” Lindy stood abruptly. She couldn’t start thinking about Jack now. Each day she somehow managed to push him to the farthest reaches of her mind, but thoughts of him still popped up unexpectedly. When she saw dimples on a face or a man with a blond forelock falling over his forehead.
“I can’t speak about it, Aunt Gertrude.”
Beyond the pond, children ran through the fallen leaves on the park path, shouting to one another. The tang of wood smoke filled the air. The end of the year fast approached, and there was no help for it. Life marched on.
“Mama will be wondering where we are. She’s probably about to dispatch one of the grooms to look for us.”
Aunt Gertrude stood and linked her arm through Lindy’s. “Don’t lose heart, darling. Sometimes life has a way of working things out.”
***
Claudine helped Lindy dress for dinner. Mama would be going all out with a guest in the house. Had she discovered yet that Aunt Gertrude had stripped the Michelangelo room? Lindy hoped not.
She chose a dinner dress of bronze brocade silk with gigot sleeves and rust velvet trim. Not really her color, although it did make her eyes seem green rather than gray. But Mama would be pleased to see her in it.
Percy had seated her mother when Lindy walked into the dining room. The chandelier and the candelabras on the sideboard infused the room with a golden glow. Her mother’s best china, Royal Copenhagen’s Flora Danica, adorned the table, with Tiffany sterling in the Audubon pattern to compliment it. A massive silver cache-pot filled with blue hydrangea and purple phlox graced the center of the table, with green Amaranthus trailing over its sides.
“The flowers are lovely, Mama. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Her mother beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, darling.”
“I agree. Most charming,” said Aunt Gertrude. “But wherever do you find hydrangeas in October?”
“Otto procures them.” Her mother bestowed a queenly smile on her husband. “Every week he ships them in for me.” She nodded at Percy to begin serving. “I know you’d prefer something simple for supper, Gertrude. I hope roast chicken is agreeable.”
“Perfect. One of my favorites.”
“And your room? I trust it’s comfortable?”
“Oh, quite.” Aunt Gertrude looked sideways at Lindy. “I love the Bellini landscape.”
Mama nodded. “I chose the Bellini myself.”
“Yes, Lindy told me.”
“And how was your walk this afternoon?”
“Very illuminating. I quite enjoyed Lindy’s company.”
The conversation continued in this vein, and Lindy stopped listening. Until Aunt Gertrude mentioned women’s voting rights while waving away the rich sauce that accompanied the roast chicken.
“Come, come, Gertrude.” Papa frowned. “You don’t mean to say you advocate the vote be given to women? It’s an inane idea.”
“Inane to you, perhaps, Otto.” Aunt Gertrude set her fork down. “Don’t you think I’m capable of forming my own judgments?” She stared down her long nose at her brother.
Papa raised an eyebrow and applied himself studiously to his dinner. “You, yes. You’ve always had your own opinions. But my own dear wife and daughter have been more gently raised.”
“By gently raised, I assume you mean heads filled with flowery nonsense?”
Papa exhaled hard through his nose. “Now, Gertrude...”
Gertrude removed her pince-nez and looked at Vera. “Certainly, there have been occasions when you would have liked to vote, Vera.”
Mama pressed her lips together, then smiled wryly. “Much as I hate to admit it to you, yes, I’ve thought about it.”
Papa bristled and thumped his wineglass on the table, leaving a large purple spot on the damask cloth. “What?” He turned to his wife. “You want women to have the vote?”
“Yes, Otto.” Her mother smiled smugly. “Haven’t I always said a woman’s intellect is equal to that of men?”
“You can’t be serious.” Papa waved Percy away as he approached with a napkin to mop up the wine.
“Calm yourself, Otto.” Aunt Gertrude smiled. “It isn’t likely to happen in New York State anytime soon, even though we collected 600,000 signatures in ’94, which the state legislature ignored. But I think it will happen by the turn of the century. An appropriate time, don’t you think, Vera?”
Her mother nodded. “A new century. And a new age for women.”
“Tosh,” muttered her father under his breath.
“What was that, Otto?” Mama smiled sweetly.
“Nothing.” Papa signaled Percy for more chicken. “What other outlandish thoughts do you have, Gertrude? Or perhaps I shouldn’t ask.”
Aunt Gertrude shook her fork at her brother. “Well, since you did ask, I do have something else on my mind this evening.” She glanced at Lindy and then addressed Mama. “Since you believe a woman’s intellect is equal to a man’s, what do you think about young women being able to choose their own husbands?”
Mama choked, her face turning red. She took a sip of water and regarded Aunt Gertrude with the same basilisk glare she often favored Lindy with. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, Gertrude?”
Oh no. A terrible premonition crept over Lindy. Oh no, no, no, please don’t say anything.
“Lindy told me of the plan to marry her to a duke.” Aunt Gertrude smiled pleasantly. “Don’t you think it possible she could choose he
r own husband?”
Mama turned to Lindy, her gaze pure, hard steel, and her eyes flattened at the corners. “What have you done?”
Lindy clenched her hands together under the table. “I wasn’t aware it was a secret, Mama.”
“It’s private family business. Not to be discussed with outsiders.” Mama tossed her head and transferred her malignant gaze to Aunt Gertrude, who continued calmly eating.
“Vera,” her father said. “Come now, Gertrude isn’t an outsider.”
Mama reddened and flicked a finger at Percy, who immediately left the dining room, followed by the footmen.
Aunt Gertrude placed her fork on her plate. “I apologize for asking the question. I hoped we could discuss it, that’s all. No doubt, you have the best of intentions toward your daughter.”
“But I would like to discuss it.” Lindy couldn’t believe she’d spoken the words aloud.
Her father’s eyes widened. “I don’t think this is the time or place, sweetheart.” His eyes pleaded with her.
Her mother had gone dangerously silent across the table. Lindy pressed her shaking hands on the table to stop the trembling. “I have reservations, Mama. About my debut. I do want to please you, but I’m growing up. I’m no longer a child. I have thoughts and opinions of my own.”
Mama sniffed. “And where did you get them, I wonder?”
“I read the newspapers. I read books. I have some knowledge of what is going on in the world.”
“And a little learning has gone to your head?”
“No. But it’s made me think. And as you said, it will be a new century soon. A new age for women. I’m going to be part of that new century.” She swallowed. “I must make some decisions for myself.”
“I suppose you’re speaking of college?”
“That’s part of it.”
Mama smiled. “Well, darling, that’s not so hard. Let us make a deal, as your father would say. You make your debut and go abroad with me. And then, when we come home, you can make your plans to go to college.”
Lindy blinked. “Truly?”
Her mother nodded. “Certainly. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mama rang the little bell to summon Percy. “You may serve dessert now.”