The Test of Gold

by Renee Yancy

  A silver tray with a molded baba au rhum made its entrance, but Lindy barely tasted it. Her mother had suddenly agreed to allow her to go to college. It was a miracle. And all due to Aunt Gertrude.

  Across the table, her mother oohed and aahed over the baba, smiling widely. But instead of smiling, Aunt Gertrude wouldn’t meet Lindy’s gaze. Why was that?

  Chapter 17

  Jack leaned against the lamp post across the street from 660 Fifth Avenue, as carriage after carriage drove up and discharged gorgeously gowned and top-hatted inhabitants at the glittering entrance to the Lindenmayer mansion. Hoping for a glimpse of Miss Lindenmayer, he searched every window again and again, without success.

  “Here, boyo, what are you about, loitering here?”

  Jack turned. A policeman regarded him with a rather jaundiced eye. Jack nodded toward the mansion. “I stopped to listen.” Laughter and music drifted out the open windows, and he recognized the beginning of a waltz. “It’s such a lovely evening for a stroll.” No need to mention he’d been standing here for the last two hours.

  The policeman gave him the once over, his narrowed eyes not missing a detail of Jack’s plain frockcoat. “You live in this neighborhood?”

  “On the Upper East Side. With my uncle, Joseph Winthrop.”

  “Do you now?” The policeman tucked beefy fingers into the belt girding his ample waist. “And would that be the pastor of St. Thomas Episcopal?”

  Jack glanced at the brass name badge on the officer’s wool coat. “Yes, Officer McConnell.”

  “And you might be?”

  “Jack Winthrop.” He repressed an impatient sigh and glanced sideways toward the house. Wait! There—was it her? A young woman in a sparkling white gown, her dark hair swept up on her head, in conversation with a man in white tie and tails. He clenched his fists and peered closer, not caring what the policeman might think.

  “Ah.” McConnell’s gaze followed Jack’s. “Quite the party, isn’t it? But not for the likes of us, hey?”

  Jack didn’t answer, straining to determine if the girl was Miss Lindenmayer.

  “There’s fifty of us coppers here tonight, hired special for the ball. To keep the riffraff away, mind.”

  Jack continued to scan the windows. Maybe if he ignored the officer, he’d go away. Then he gasped. There she was!

  “Hmm.” McConnell followed Jack’s startled gaze. “Oh, boyo, I understand now. In love with the colleen, are you, laddie?”

  Jack exhaled hard. “Is it that obvious, Officer?”

  “It is, lad. That it is.” McConnell gazed toward the Lindenmayer mansion. “Love’s grand, isn’t it?” He tapped Jack gently on the chest with his baton. “Right, then. I’ll be off now on my rounds. I trust you’ll not be here when I come through again.”

  “Yes, Officer. Thank you.”

  Officer McConnell crossed the street and headed off down the sidewalk.

  Jack looked at his coat and plain boots. How he’d love to march into the mansion, announce himself as a friend of the debutante, and steal her away for a dance. What a commotion that would cause. He supposed he’d be unceremoniously thrown out. Perhaps arrested. How would he explain that to his uncle?

  He kicked a stone and sent it skittering into the street, and slowly walked away. At the corner, he turned and gazed at the Lindenmayer mansion. Every window blazed with light. Miss Lindenmayer lived and breathed only a few hundred feet from him, but she might as well be on the moon for all the good it did him.

  Chapter 18

  The night of the debut had arrived, after years of Mama’s dreaming and planning.

  Lindy stood in the second-floor musician’s gallery while the orchestra tuned their instruments behind her. Since the disastrous first evening of Aunt Gertrude’s visit, her mother had kept Lindy busy with social calls and luncheons every day. And at dinner each evening, her mother determinedly kept the conversation light. No serious topics allowed.

  Now her mother flitted about the ballroom below like a moving jewel shop, the pale green satin of her evening gown barely discernable under the diamonds adorning the front of her capacious bosom. On top of her brown curls, she wore a diamond tiara tipped with pearls the size of hummingbird eggs, the former possession of Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia. Mama gleamed with scintillating light every time she moved.

  It occurred to Lindy that this might be the only ball she attended where her own preferred mode of dressing meshed with her mother’s wishes. As a rule, a debutante wore a dress all of white, with simple jewels, so the virginal beauty of the girl herself received all the attention.

  Her mother glanced up. “Evangeline, your father wants to see you in his study.”

  Lindy nodded and took the marble staircase to the cozy oak-paneled room. She knocked on the door and entered.

  Papa stood next to his desk, resplendent in white tie and tails, his mop of unruly silver hair combed into submission and even his mustache waxed. “Sweetheart, you look absolutely beautiful!” He grinned. “It doesn’t seem all that long ago I dandled you on my knee. And now here you are, ready for high society.”

  “You look quite handsome yourself, Papa.” She straightened his silk tie and gave his striped waistcoat a pat. “I suppose you’ll be dressing like this quite a bit in the future if Mama has her way.”

  Her father groaned and rolled his eyes.

  “Papa.” Did she dare voice her doubts to her father? “I wanted to talk to you about some—”

  Mama swept into the room on a cloud of jasmine scent and beamed at Lindy. “It’s finally here—the night we’ve waited so long for! The first step in our plan, Evangeline. Soon we’ll be off to London for the season and then,”—her smile grew wider— “we’ll find you the earl or duke we’ve been dreaming of!”

  Lindy smiled automatically. Her mother had worked tirelessly to ensure Lindy’s debut was a success. The invitations for the ball had gone out last week on heavy cream vellum with elegant copperplate printing.

  Mr. & Mrs. Otto Lindenmayer

  Request the pleasure of your company

  On Friday evening, September 25, at 9 o’clock.

  The chateau had endured a frenzy of cleaning under the gimlet eye of her mother. Nearly every room on the first floor of the mansion had been pressed into service. Adjacent to the ballroom, the drawing room had been set up as a refuge for the gentlemen—since no gentleman could smoke in the presence of a lady. Her mother’s régence salon would contain refreshments throughout the evening—small canapés and tiny sandwiches, cream puffs and the like, plus coffee and iced lemonade.

  Mama turned. “Do you have the gift, Otto?”

  Papa smiled and retrieved a silver box from his desk. “I hope you like it, sweetheart. We chose it especially for you.”

  A diamond and aquamarine necklace lay inside on white velvet. Three strands of perfect pearls hung from the jeweled clasp, joined to a cabochon aquamarine in a platinum setting of diamonds.

  “It’s breathtaking.” Lindy turned to her mother. “Mama, help me?”

  Instead, her mother glared at Papa and scowled. “That isn’t what I chose, Otto. The color’s wrong.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He took the necklace and turned Lindy around to fasten the jeweled clasp. “You’re wrong. It’s perfect. Look.”

  Instead of the usual bright blue color, the aquamarines in the necklace remained in their natural state—a gorgeous, translucent sea green with just a hint of blue.

  “They match her eyes exactly.”

  “Humph.” Mama sniffed. “No one will even know what they are.” She swept out of the room. “I can’t leave you to do anything right!”

  Papa shrugged. “I guess I know what color my daughter’s eyes are.”

  “You’re so thoughtful, Papa. Thank you.”

  She kissed her father’s cheek, and a shy smile lit his face. “You like it?”

  “I love it. It will always be my favorite jewel.”

  He grinned at her compliment and t
ucked her hand into his arm. “I suppose it’s time to face the lions. Er... I mean, the ladies.”

  “Oh, Papa.” She squeezed his arm, and off they went.

  The crystal chandeliers sparkled over a fairyland of potted orange trees, ferns, and palm trees, interspersed with tiny electric lights that transformed the ballroom. The flowers were white and cream, in honor of the debutante. Roses, lilies, orchids, chrysanthemums, jasmine, and orange blossoms, all were giving off their exotic fragrances in a heady mélange, sure to make some of the ladies swoon.

  Lindy stood between her mother and father to greet the guests. Dressed in the latest fashions from Paris, the ladies of New York society sparkled in satin and silks in every hue of the rainbow, and like Mama, seemed to be wearing the entire contents of their jewelry box all at once.

  Mama’s pinch on her arm brought Lindy out of her reverie. Mamie Oelrichs approached in the receiving line. Next to Caroline Astor, Mrs. Oelrichs was one of the most important hostesses and leaders of society. Mama straightened her already impeccable posture as Mamie swept up to them in a gown of peach silk crepe overlaid with gold tulle. A diamond dog collar encircled her wrinkled neck, ropes of pearls and diamonds decorated her deep décolletage, and a tiara, of course, accentuated with peacock feathers, graced the coils of her graying coiffure.

  Mamie nodded to Papa and exchanged kisses with Mama in the European fashion, one on each cheek.

  Then she turned to Lindy. Lynx-eyed, she scrutinized Lindy’s appearance for several long moments, from the crown of her head to her white silk dancing slippers. Mamie tipped her head to one side and pursed her lips. Then she smiled and waved her jeweled fan. “Exquisite! You’ve outdone yourself, Vera.”

  Mama smiled and favored Lindy with an approving glance. Lindy bit her lip. She was a commodity to be traded to the highest bidder. At least that’s what it felt like. What’s wrong with me? Most girls would be over the moon to have a debut ball like this.

  Aunt Gertrude stood at the back of the ballroom in a simple gown of silver lamé, a head taller than the rest of the ladies. Instead of a tiara, white orchids adorned her coiffure, looking suspiciously like the same orchids decorating the ballroom walls. In a sea of fussy gowns and opulent jewels, Gertrude stood sleek and unadorned, a cool star amidst a galaxy of overheated suns. Between the sheer number of bodies and the burning candles, the heat in the ballroom had risen uncomfortably. A long line of guests stretched to the French doors from the hall. Though she longed for the peaceful silence of her bedroom, Lindy greeted the guests, outwardly calm, while a question thrummed through her brain like the endless bubbles in a glass of champagne.

  How can I tell Mama I don’t want any part of high society?

  After what seemed like hours, the interminable line of guests had been received and formally introduced. The official ceremony of the debut ended, and the dancing could begin. The orchestra struck up a lively waltz, and a posse of young men in tie and tails besieged her, clamoring for a dance. Her mother-of-pearl and silver filigree dance card filled within moments.

  Maddie’s brother, Charles Goulet, claimed her for the waltz already in progress. With excellent skill, he swept her into the flowing rise and fall of the dance.

  “You’re looking especially beautiful tonight, Miss Lindenmayer.” He gazed at her with admiring eyes.

  “Thank you, Mr. Goulet.”

  “Are you enjoying your evening?”

  “Very much so.”

  “I hope I shall be able to have another dance with you this evening. Your beauty is ravishing.”

  Lindy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Is this what I have to look forward to? Fatuous comments from slick young men? “So is yours.”

  He blinked, considering her comment. Lindy had been instructed by her mother to reply to these sorts of statements with a modest thank-you and downcast eyes. What tosh. She smiled to herself. Her father’s word quite accurately described the situation.

  “Mr. Goulet, would you mind if we didn’t speak? I’d like to enjoy the dance.”

  He shrugged and fixed his gaze somewhere over her right shoulder. At the conclusion of the waltz, he bowed to her and hurried off.

  Walter Rockefeller claimed her next, and the same insipid line of conversation ensued. “How lovely you are tonight, Miss Lindenmayer. I’ve been waiting a long time to have this dance with you.”

  “A blue moon, I’m sure.” Immediately the identical look of ruffled incomprehension slid over Mr. Rockefeller’s smooth features. She wasn’t playing the game correctly. “Let’s dance, shall we, Mr. Rockefeller?”

  He gulped and nodded. Lindy did the same thing with the rest of the young society gentlemen who asked for a dance. And as a result, she enjoyed the dancing. Having escaped the need to make banal conversation, she could lose herself in the dips of the waltz and the fast steps of the mazurkas. And her mother was none the wiser.

  Her father claimed her for the last dance before the orchestra stopped playing at midnight, when the elegant supper would be served. He beamed at her. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, sweetheart. I wasn’t at all sure you would.”

  A pang went through Lindy at the hopeful expression on her father’s face. Of course, she couldn’t tell him what she had done to ensure an enjoyable evening. “It’s been a lovely evening, Papa. Thank you.”

  When the waltz ended, they were near the tall windows overlooking Fifth Avenue. The servants had been quietly opening the casements to relieve the stifling heat in the ballroom, and a delicious stream of fresh air washed over her. “Let’s stay here a moment, Papa.” She pressed closer to the open window and sighed as the breeze cooled her hot cheeks.

  “Only until the gong sounds, sweetheart.” He checked his pocket watch. “It’s nearly midnight. Only three infernal hours to go.”

  “Oh, Papa.” She laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’re not cut out for this any more than I am.”

  The dinner gong sounded then, three times, its wavelike notes swelling over the ballroom.

  Papa bowed to Lindy and held out his arm. “Shall we then?”

  Lindy curtsied. “Yes, Papa.”

  Arm in arm, they went together to find Mama and lead the way into supper, where Mamie Oelrichs commandeered her mother, and Papa ended up in conversation with Caroline Astor.

  Aunt Gertrude popped up at Lindy’s elbow. “Sit with me for a bit. How is your evening progressing?” They retreated to a settee in a cozy corner of the salon with their plates.

  Lindy smiled at her aunt. “Do you truly want to know?”

  Gertrude smiled conspiratorially. “I do.”

  “I’ve had much instruction from my mother as to how a lady converses with gentlemen at a ball like this.” She took a bite of roast pheasant. “But I never imagined how boring it would be.” All those discussions with Jack have spoiled me.

  Aunt Gertrude laughed. “Oh my, yes, I do remember how it could be. Even now, for a woman my age, the same rules apply. I choose to ignore them.”

  “Yes. And so did I.” She recounted for her aunt how she had stopped the dialogues cold with her request for no conversation.

  “Be careful. You’ll make a name for yourself as a difficult girl.” Gertrude’s knowing smile betrayed her approval.

  Across the crowded salon, her mother spotted them and began to thread her way through the throng. Aunt Gertrude had seen her too. “Lindy,” her aunt said quickly, “I want you to know if you ever decide to go a different way, my home will always be open to you.”

  Then her mother stood in front of them, imperious in her jewels and green satin. “Come along, Lindy, you mustn’t allow yourself to be monopolized now.”

  “Soldier on, darling,” said Aunt Gertrude under her breath as Lindy’s mother led her away.

  Chapter 19

  October 1897

  “Good morning, chérie.”

  Lindy rolled over and opened her eyes at Claudine’s voice. A faint gray light showed at her bedroom window. She hadn’t awakened
this early since her sleepless night waiting for Santa Claus when she was five years old. But sailing for London meant rising early. Thank goodness there had been no ball last night.

  Heavy fog pressed in at the windows, and Lindy couldn’t see anything beyond a few feet outside. After a hurried breakfast, she went upstairs to change into her traveling suit. When she came downstairs again, she found Mama supervising the loading of the hand luggage. The trunks had gone on ahead yesterday. As soon as Lindy and her mother had dressed, Claudine and Hortense had left to properly attend their mistress’ clothing and belongings on the ocean liner.

  Mama stamped her foot. “Do hurry. We’re going to be late.” She glared at the footman, who fumbled the hatbox and nearly dropped it. “Yes, madame. I apologize for the delay.”

  Sputtering, Mama allowed the footman to hand her into the carriage. Lindy stepped in after her. “Really, Mama, must you terrorize the staff?”

  Mama sniffed. “In time you’ll discover, Evangeline, if you want something done right, you must do it yourself.”

  Lindy bit back a retort. “Calm down, Mama. We have plenty of time.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t you know the chauffeur would fall ill with influenza at the most inconvenient time.”

  Lindy rolled her eyes. “Really, Mama, is there a correct time to contract an illness?”

  “Oh dear, dear, dear. We simply cannot be late.”

  Lindy patted her mother’s arm. “Please don’t worry. I’m sure James can get us there in time.”

  Fog lay heavy over the city, occasionally lifting to reveal a glimpse of the streets of Manhattan before again dropping its ghostly fingers over the carriage. Mama had her notebook and gold pencil out, muttering to herself.

  While her mother fretted, Lindy remembered the hasty way she had told Mr. Winthrop goodbye. Could she have said it any differently? Would she ever see him again? She closed her eyes and let her head lean against the cushions. She didn’t want to think of it right now.