The Test of Gold

by Renee Yancy

  “Ça alors, chérie!” Claudine’s eyes were as round as marbles. “What was all that about?”

  Lindy shook her head slowly. “He was asking me not to marry the earl.”

  Claudine regarded Lindy. “Is there any danger of that?”

  Lindy thought of the earl’s pink scalp and scabby eyelashes. “Absolutely not.”

  Chapter 25

  December 1897, New York City

  Two weeks had passed since their return to New York from London, and the Christmas season was already in full swing in the city. Mama kept her so busy with balls, dinner parties, and musicales there hadn’t been any free time to steal away to the library. Lindy hadn’t seen Mr. Winthrop in two months.

  But she had thought about him every day.

  Claudine hung the yellow silk gown with the tassel design on the skirt and hung it on the tall brass stand in the corner of the bedroom. “Your mother chose this one, chérie.”

  Lindy wrinkled her nose. “I absolutely detest that gown. Put it away, please. I’m not wearing it tonight.”

  Claudine raised her eyebrows. “Then what is ma petite belle going to wear to the ball?”

  Lindy walked into the closet. One entire wall held shelves of shoes and slippers, another displayed hats, toques, and picture hats with lace frills and osprey feathers. A wall of built-in drawers contained dozens of pairs of gloves in doeskin, chamois, and suede. At the end of this closet, another door opened onto a room with fragrant cedar walls, kept solely for the ball gowns. Enshrouded in muslin bags with sweet-smelling sachets tucked into their folds, and padded with tissue to retain the shapes of sleeves and bodices, they were lined up according to color on wide shelves.

  “This one.” Lindy pointed to a muslin bag at the far end of the shelf. Claudine picked it up and carried it into the bedroom, where she laid it on the bed. Carefully she removed the muslin bag, and the folds of celadon silk rustled out. “Oh là là! C’est belle!”

  “Mother had palpitations when I chose this gown in Paris.”

  “But what will Madame say if you go to the ball in this, chérie? She will not be pleased.”

  Lindy smiled. “She won’t arrive until later in the evening. And by then it will be too late.”

  Claudine proceeded with the rest of Lindy’s toilette, arranging her hair in an elaborate updo, and lacing her into her corset. When she finished, she spanned Lindy’s waist with her hands. “Oh là là! Eighteen inches.”

  She slipped the gown over Lindy’s shoulders and fastened the diamante clasps that held the slim shoulder straps. Lindy stood in front of the cheval mirror while Claudine clapped her hands. “You look like a goddess, chérie, like one of the women in Madame’s paintings.”

  The sweep of celadon silk emphasized her slender figure and brought out the sheen in her dark hair. The neckline had deep décolleté, only proper in an evening gown.

  Claudine tipped her head to one side. “Which jewels will you wear tonight?” She brought the leather cases and set them on the dressing table, unlocking them with a silver key she kept on a chain around her neck.

  The aquamarine and diamond necklace set her father had given her on her debut would be perfect. Claudine fastened the necklace around her throat and slipped diamond pendant earrings into her ears. Long white gloves and beaded silver slippers with low heels completed the ensemble. Claudine brought out the black velvet evening cape, and Lindy was ready for the ball.

  “Have a wonderful evening, chérie.” She kissed Lindy on the cheek and winked. “Without Madame!”

  ***

  The Dancing Academy was hosting the Patriarch Ball tonight. Papa would escort her, as Mama had another function to attend.

  Scores of potted palms transformed the ballroom into an enchanted forest. Exotic plants bloomed from every corner, and banks of imported jasmine plants along the walls perfumed the air. Tiny electric lights strung through the garlands of smilax and ivy twinkled overhead.

  Her father appeared at her side and handed her an iced lemonade. “I’m off to the smoking room, Lindy. I’m leaving you in Mrs. Pettigrew’s capable hands.”

  “Enjoy yourself, Papa.” She kissed her father’s cheek, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. He despised these functions almost as much as she did.

  Papa nodded to their hostess, who approached with a beaming smile, her bosom and wrists sparkling with diamonds and rubies. “I’ll look after her, Mr. Lindenmayer. The smoking room is behind the musician dais.”

  Men weren’t allowed to smoke in the presence of ladies, and a generous hostess always provided a special room for this purpose. Papa bowed and took his leave.

  “What an unusual gown, Miss Lindenmayer,” said Mrs. Pettigrew.

  Lindy glanced at the celadon silk. “Thank you.”

  “It’s a bit different than the ball dresses you usually wear, I think.”

  “Yes, it is.” Because I chose it.

  “There you are, Miss Lindenmayer, looking entrancing as usual.” Charles Goulet took her gloved hand and pressed an air kiss on it. “Will you dance with me tonight? I hope your card isn’t filled already.”

  Here we go. Let the vacuous conversation begin. Lindy touched the vellum card attached to her wrist with a white ribbon. “I have a few spaces left, Mr. Goulet. Shall I pencil you in?” She took the tiny gold pencil attached to the card.

  “Yes, please.”

  “The mazurka? Or would you prefer the quadrille?”

  “The mazurka, by all means. I shall conserve my strength in order to keep up with you.”

  “Monopolizing Miss Lindenmayer, are you, Charlie? Left any room for me?” Walter Rockefeller bowed to her.

  Lindy consulted her card. “The waltz?”

  “Perfect.”

  The two men walked away, and Mrs. Pettigrew nodded approvingly. “Don’t fill all your spots, Miss Lindenmayer. You never know who might arrive later.”

  Lindy smiled. The quadrille was forming. Her father appeared, smelling of aromatic pipe tobacco. “Shall we, my dear?” He held out his arm to her. They joined the long line of couples that formed a stately procession down the center of the ballroom to officially open the ball.

  The orchestra swept into the “Waltz of the Flowers” from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite. Charles Goulet tapped Papa’s shoulder, and he graciously handed her over to him. With other glittering couples, they swirled about the dance floor in three-quarter time. Normally the weight of beading and embroidery and the heavy bustle on the skirt all combined to make dancing difficult. But the fluidity and lightness of the simple silk gown gave wings to her feet. The waltz finished too soon.

  Charles Goulet smiled and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re different tonight. Miss Lindenmayer. What are you up to?”

  Lindy smiled demurely. “Nothing, Mr. Goulet. Enjoying the ball.”

  Someone tapped her shoulder. “Good evening, Miss Lindenmayer,” said a deep voice.

  The familiar deep voice sent a shiver through her as she turned to find Jack Winthrop bowing to her, in evening dress of black tails and white tie.

  “Why, Mr. Winthrop!” The phrase from the opera H.M.S. Pinafore popped into her head. Be still, my beating heart!

  “You are surprised to see me?”

  Oh, surprised and happy. “Indeed, I am.” In the space of a moment, her heartbeat doubled.

  “I don’t normally come to these affairs, as I’m sure you know.”

  He smiled down at her, and suddenly the room seemed quite warm. Lindy opened her fan to cool her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” Can he see my heart beating out of my chest?

  “I wangled an invitation.” He smiled at her, and the dimple in his cheek appeared. “I hoped you were going to be here tonight.”

  Her fan waved harder, keeping tempo with her rising pulse.

  “And I hope this won’t be unwelcome, but—I must tell you that you are so beautiful tonight it quite takes my breath away.”

  Darts of silvery happiness streamed through her.
She bowed her head, her cheeks flushing. This wasn’t the first time she had heard such a compliment.

  But it’s the first time I’ve cared about who was saying it.

  “Forgive me, have I offended you?” He swallowed and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so forward.” He ran a finger around his collar. “I’m no good at this sort of thing.”

  You’re doing just fine. She smiled at him. “You haven’t offended me. Actually, I—” Dare I say it? “I’m happy to see you, Mr. Winthrop.” I’ve missed you.

  “It seems ages since we’ve had our discussions in the library.”

  “Perhaps we could steal away somewhere here?”

  His face brightened. “Could you?”

  “Let’s get an ice and find somewhere to sit where we won’t be noticed.”

  He offered her his arm. “Allow me?”

  After a quick inspection of the ballroom, she took his arm. No sign of Mama yet. Did he notice how Mrs. Rockefeller’s head whipped around as they walked past her? Standing with some other society matriarchs, Mrs. Pettigrew smiled at Lindy and then frowned as her gaze slid over to Mr. Winthrop.

  Lindy sighed. “We seem to be attracting some attention.”

  Mr. Winthrop nodded. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  He secured two silver cups of pink ice and handed one to her, then glanced at the potted orange trees which decorated the salon and raised an eyebrow. “Where on earth do they get strawberries and orange trees in the middle of winter?”

  She laughed. “Brought in by railroad or ship. From Florida or California. Would you like to sit down?” Lindy nodded at two chairs recently vacated in a nearby alcove, shaded by palm trees.

  “Is that allowed?”

  Not if my mother was here. “Just for a bit.”

  Lindy pushed her chair further into the screen of palms. “How are your studies coming?”

  “Grueling. But I enjoy it.”

  “Do you hope to take the pastorate at St. Thomas’s eventually?”

  “It’s a possibility. But what I’d like to do is take a poorer parish, somewhere in the city. There is so much to be done and not enough people to do it. But what about you? I haven’t seen you in the library for the longest time. I’ve missed our book discussions.” He cleared his throat. “What are you reading now?”

  That troublesome lock of blond hair had fallen across his forehead, and the unexplainable desire to brush it off his forehead came over her. How handsome he was, and oh my, the intent way he gazed at her as if she were the most fascinating creature alive. He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Lindenmayer?”

  She stared at him like a lovestruck cow. “Um... what am I reading?” Her mind went blank while she frantically tried to recall the last book she had started. “Oh yes, Around the World in Eighty Days,” she said hurriedly. “Jules Verne.”

  “And are you enjoying it?”

  “It’s fabulous. What adventures Mr. Phileas Fogg and his valet are having.” She bit her lip. “I envy them.”

  Mr. Winthrop fixed his serious, brown gaze on her. Of all the people in her life, why did she have the impression that only he truly listened to her?

  He leaned forward. “You’d like to have some adventures of your own, wouldn’t you?”

  She sighed. “Living vicariously through others’ adventures is the only way I’m likely to have them.”

  “And yet,” Mr. Winthrop said slowly, “there are many who would give everything they have to be in your position.”

  “Because my family is wealthy, you mean?”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He smiled. “Now, I’m going to play devil’s advocate.”

  Lindy raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

  “I’m going to ask you a question I dare say no one else has ever asked you before.”

  “Very intriguing. But I may not answer.”

  “I hope you do.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Just imagine, if you can, Miss Lindenmayer, that money, time, education, and the expectations of society have no bearing on you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That’s difficult.” Where was he going with this?

  “Just try. Now. The question. If you could do anything in the world, if you had the freedom to choose what you could do with your life, what would it be?”

  He was correct. No one had ever asked her what she would like to do with her life. The Lindenmayer household always assumed she would do exactly what her mother wanted.

  “Miss Lindenmayer?”

  With a start, she realized she had been staring into the distance, turning the question around in her mind like an intriguing new specimen while he waited for her answer. Waiting as if there truly could be an answer to such a question. “I believe you are trifling with me.”

  “Never.” He laid his hand on her gloved arm. “I could never treat you that way. I hope you know by now that I regard you with the utmost respect.”

  A tiny gasp escaped her lips, and he quickly removed his hand. But the warmth of it lingered through her glove, and her cheeks grew hot.

  “Forgive me. I don’t mean to disconcert you. But I truly want to know.”

  “I’d be an archaeologist.” The words shot out before she could think.

  He grinned. “I knew it would be something fascinating.” He looked into her eyes, and his grin faded to a wistful smile.

  Her breathing quickened, and her heart resumed its double-time cadence. She turned her face aside. Can he see the effect he has on me?

  “There I go again. Forgive me. What if we only discuss safe subjects?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Only that I won’t say anything to make you uncomfortable. Let’s see... I could ask you where you’ve been these last two months?”

  I should go. Mama might arrive at any moment. But her body didn’t seem inclined to obey. “I made my debut two months ago. It’s been a whirlwind of balls, luncheons, and social calls since then. My mother and I spent a month in London for the season there.” She wrinkled her nose. “Truth be told, I’d much rather be in the library.”

  “You seem to be enjoying yourself tonight.” He gave her a little smile.

  “Perhaps it’s the company.”

  He swallowed then and didn’t speak, only gave her an intense glance. The notes of a slow waltz drifted into the room.

  “Is your dance card filled, Miss Lindenmayer?”

  She didn’t need to look, but she drew the card on the ribbon and pretended to peruse it. “I do have an opening.”

  “When?”

  She took a deep breath. “Now.”

  He stood up and held out his gloved hand. “Shall we?”

  They reached the edge of the parquet dance floor, and he took her into his arms. “Ready?”

  Another rapid survey of the ballroom. Her mother was nowhere in sight. “Yes.”

  They moved smoothly into the whirl of dancers as he swept her through the rise and fall of the steps. The other couples dancing around them blurred and receded into the background until she was only aware of him, the warmth of his hand at her waist, her fingers captured in his, his eyes gazing down at her as if she were the only woman in the universe.

  “You’re an incredible dancer, Mr. Winthrop.” Did she imagine it, or did he pull her ever so slightly closer?

  “Thank you. But I’ve never enjoyed it as much as I am this evening.”

  I never want this dance to end.

  She opened her mouth to answer when Mama entered and scanned the ballroom. Oh no. “Mr. Winthrop, do forgive me, my mother has arrived. I must go and greet her.”

  At once, he brought her to a graceful stop. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Lindenmayer.”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Winthrop.”

  Hopefully, her mother hadn’t spotted Lindy’s dance partner.

  “Mama. You’re here.”

  Vera frowned and made a tsk sound with her tongue. “In the nick of time, it seems. Mrs. Rockefeller said you were dancing with a completely una
cceptable man.”

  Lindy put on a demure face. “Unacceptable? What did she mean?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me, Evangeline. She didn’t know the man. Probably someone who shouldn’t be here at all. What was his name?”

  “Umm... I don’t remember.”

  “Fiddlesticks. What was his name?” Mama glared at her, her heaving bosom shooting sparks from the diamonds on her breast.

  Lindy didn’t want to say, and her mother definitely didn’t need to know. “I don’t remember, Mama. He said he was visiting from Philadelphia. That’s why Mrs. Rockefeller didn’t know him, I’m sure.”

  “Philadelphia?” Vera sniffed. “No wonder. Those Philly people have no class.”

  “Really, Mama. He was perfectly polite. Charming, actually. And doesn’t your sister live in Philadelphia?”

  “I won’t have you wasting your time with someone like that.”

  Lindy sighed, trying to repress her irritation. “For pity’s sake, Mama, there aren’t any dukes here tonight. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  Mama frowned. “Watch your tongue, Miss.” Her mother’s gaze dropped to Lindy’s gown. “That’s not what I chose for you, Evangeline. I told Claudine to lay out the yellow silk.”

  “I’m ready to go home now, so it doesn’t matter. I’ve a slight headache. I’m going to go and cool my face.”

  She hurried away before her mother could say she needed a chaperone to accompany her. The French doors to the terrace were open, and the air cooled as she walked through them and found a seat.

  “Lindy!” Madeleine appeared in a shimmering gown of ice blue silk satin with silver beadwork embroidery on the bodice. She flipped her lace fan at Lindy and sat next to her. “Who was that delicious young man you were dancing with, hmm? I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Maddie! You make him sound like he’s something to eat.”

  “Well, he did look rather mouth-watering. So, who is he?” She leaned closer and whispered in Lindy’s ear. “He never took his eyes off you.”

  “I didn’t catch his name.” The second lie I’ve told tonight.

  “What?” Madeleine’s eyes went wide. “Weren’t you introduced?”

  Here we go again. “Umm. In one sense, we were.”