by Renee Yancy
Lindy squeezed her mother’s hand. Dear God, was she dying? What can I do?
A thought gathered in her mind, and she swallowed hard. There might be only one thing that could raise her mother off her deathbed. “Mama... if I were to agree to marry the duke, would that help?”
Otto’s head jerked up. “Lindy,” he whispered. “No…”
Her mother’s eyes opened, and another tear slipped from her eye. Weakly, she nodded her head.
Lindy drew a deep breath. She couldn’t live the rest of her life, knowing she had been responsible for her mother’s death. “Mama, if you get well, I will marry the duke.”
Chapter 31
Lindy went to breakfast the next morning for the first time in over three weeks. Mama had decorated the mansion for Christmas while keeping Lindy imprisoned. Garlands of pine and evergreens warmed the marble staircase and swagged the great entrance hall. A wax angel with silver wings graced the top of a tall fir tree decorated with glass ornaments and strings of silver beads. So many newfangled glass ornaments covered the trees that the branches drooped.
Pale bars of early sunshine slanted through the mullioned windows and illuminated the Flemish tapestries Mama had ordered from Europe and hung on every wall of the Gothic breakfast room. At least there were no painted cherubs in this room.
One of the maids bustled in and stopped short, her eyes wide. “Oh, Miss Evangeline, I didn’t know you were here.” The maid stared at Lindy a little longer than necessary, then hastily averted her eyes. “What would you like for breakfast?”
Her appetite hadn’t returned yet. “Just coffee, Molly. And some toast.”
“Coffee, miss? Not tea?”
Lindy frowned. Mama didn’t like her to drink coffee, believing tea more ladylike. “Yes, Molly,” she said firmly. “Coffee.” Molly nodded and scurried off.
The butler entered and bowed to her. “Good morning, miss.”
Lindy smiled. “Good morning, Percy.” Always impeccably turned out, the sight of him in his crisp linen with not a hair out of place cheered her.
“May I say how lovely it is to see you downstairs, miss.” His ears reddened. “Pardon me, miss. I’ve no wish to offend.”
“No offense taken, Percy. Thank you.”
Molly returned with a carafe of coffee and a plate of toast and butter, and placed it at Lindy’s elbow, with a small pitcher of cream. “Thank you, Molly.”
“Will that be all, miss?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The maid didn’t leave but stood with her hands behind her, staring at the floor.
“Molly? Are you well?”
The maid’s cheeks turned as red as her hair as she twisted a corner of her apron between her fingers. “Well, miss,” she stammered, “it’s just that...” She glanced behind her and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, miss. You know... about the letter?” She gulped. “I was afeared for my position, miss...”
Lindy sighed. The poor child. Not only did Vera Lindenmayer have her daughter firmly under her thumb, but Otto and all the Lindenmayer servants lived in terror of her as well. “Molly, it’s perfectly all right. I understand.”
The maid heaved a sigh. “Oh, thank you, miss! Sure and I’d do anythin’ for you if I could.”
“Thank you.”
The maid fairly skipped out of the breakfast room. If only all burdens could be relieved so easily. Lindy added cream to her coffee. She had consented to marry the duke. There was no turning back now. But if her mother got well, that would be reward enough. Wouldn’t it? Her knuckles tightened on the handle of the creamer. Am I doing the right thing? She couldn’t think straight.
Her mother entered the breakfast room in an elegant Japanese morning gown, her hair dressed in a French twist, humming under her breath.
Lindy’s mouth fell open. “Mama?”
Her mother stopped short on the threshold, then swept the rest of the way into the room and seated herself across from Lindy. Her eyes were bright, her complexion glowing. This couldn’t be the same woman dying in her bed last night.
“Good morning, Evangeline.”
A terrible premonition flitted through Lindy. “Mama, how can you be up so soon?”
Her mother’s cheeks were blooming. And she never wore rouge. That would be too déclassé.
Molly entered and bobbed before Vera. “Will you be havin’ breakfast, then, ma’am?”
“Tea and toast, Molly, with a poached egg.” Vera looked at Lindy’s coffee cup and frowned.
Lindy stood up so abruptly the chair fell over. “I don’t understand. Yesterday you were on your deathbed. What happened?” A thread of nausea curled in her throat. It couldn’t be.
Molly froze and then tiptoed out of the dining room. Mama sat and smiled pleasantly. “You, Evangeline. You happened. You made me so happy that health returned to me almost instantly.”
Lindy narrowed her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to control the quiver in her voice. “Were you really ill?”
Mama lifted her chin. “I had lost the will to live. Until you gave it back to me.”
Lindy’s throat closed up, and her pulse thudded a slow drumbeat in her ears. She clenched her fists and faced her mother. “Tell me the truth. Was it all an act? A trick? To force me to marry the duke?”
Her mother drew a deep breath. “It’s for your own good, Evangeline.”
Lindy’s chest heaved. “How could you? Mama, even you, how could you do that to me?”
Vera waved her hand. “Do sit down, Evangeline. Finish your breakfast.”
“No, Mama. I won’t.”
“Calm yourself. It isn’t good to get worked up like that.”
“Like you, Mama? Like last night?”
Vera sighed. “Now who’s putting on an act?”
Lindy breathed out hard and moaned. It had been all pretense. And she had fallen for it. Her mother had never been ill. She ran out of the breakfast room.
Her mother’s voice followed her up the marble staircase. “It’s done, Evangeline. I’ve telegraphed the duke this morning. He arrives next week.”
***
Lindy ran to her bedroom and locked the door. Two could play that game.
She pulled paper and pen out.
Dearest Jack,
My mother is forcing me to marry the duke against my will. But I love you and no other. We must make plans to run away together. I have a small inheritance from my grandmother. It should be more than enough for the two of us to live a quiet life together.
Write to me through my maid, Claudine Roget. Don’t use a return address.
I wait to hear from you, my love.
Always,
Lindy
She rang for Claudine, who burst through the door a few moments later. “Oh, ma pauvre bébé.” She wrapped her arms around Lindy in a fierce hug, then stood back to examine her. “So she has starved you?” Her lips curved in a scowl.
“I had a tray sent up for each meal. But couldn’t eat.”
“And no wonder.” Claudine muttered something in French under her breath.
“Help me dress. And then I have a favor to ask.”
After Claudine finished her hair, Lindy peeked out the long hallway. No one in sight.
She drew Claudine into the deepest dressing room closet, and pulled the letter out of its hiding place under her unmentionables. “I need you to mail this for me.”
Her maid took the letter and gazed at the address. “Are you sure, ma petite?”
Lindy smiled grimly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Chapter 32
The next morning her mother announced they would travel to Newport earlier than usual. Something about needing to get the decorations “just right” for the duke. But Lindy knew her mother really wanted to get Lindy out of New York and away from any possible contact with Jack.
And so, they arrived in Newport that very evening, as most of the servants and maids had already been sent ahead to op
en the summer mansion for the Christmas season. Seaside was just that—a mansion with two hundred rooms built of Italian marble, and famous for its ballroom with three types of gold applied to the ceilings and walls alone.
Three days had passed since she’d sent the letter to Jack. Three days spent watching the clock, hoping, and daring to dream. It had taken every bit of skill she possessed not to let her secret joy shine through her eyes and her voice, lest her mother suspect anything.
The duke would arrive this afternoon.
A brief knock sounded at the door, and her mother breezed in with Lily in her arms. “Excellent. You’re up.” She glanced at the Bible on Lindy’s bed. “I’ve chosen the silver-gray silk for you.”
Lindy nodded.
“Tell Claudine I want your hair arranged more loosely this morning. The pompadour is all the rage now. I wouldn’t want the duke to think we aren’t informed on the latest fashions here.”
Lindy pressed her lips together. Right now, she couldn’t care less about fashion. She glanced at the little ormolu clock on her dressing table. Nine o’clock. The mail usually arrived about noon. She closed her eyes for a moment and sent up a fervent prayer that Jack’s reply would arrive today.
“Are you quite well, Evangeline?”
Lindy opened her eyes. Her mother stared at her, a frown twisting her lips. “You’re not ill, are you?” She laid a cool hand on Lindy’s forehead.
“I’m perfectly fine, Mama.” Lindy shrugged her mother’s hand away and stood up. “Ready to get on with the day.”
Her mother beamed at her. “Excellent.” She walked to the door and stopped to pull the bell rope for Claudine. “The duke arrives at eleven.”
***
Two hours later, Lindy waited in the hall with her parents. A groom had rushed ahead of the duke to announce his imminent arrival through the great iron gates on Bellevue Avenue. All the servants stood in two lines behind them, starched and laced to the nines. Papa had his morning coat on. Mama stood stiffly, her spine ramrod straight, not a hair out of place, and nearly vibrating with excitement.
There was a clattering outside, and the ducal carriage, emblazoned with the duke’s coat of arms, pulled up outside. Of course, he would have brought his carriage with him on the ocean liner. That would certainly impress her mother’s friends. Percy opened the entry doors and bowed. The duke strode in, wearing a fur coat with a Turkey red muffler around his throat, and bringing a blast of cold, salt-scented air with him.
“Ah, my dearest Mrs. Lindenmayer.” Simpering, Mama dropped a small curtsy as the duke took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Enchanting as always.”
“Welcome to our cottage, Your Grace.” Her mother drew Papa forward. “May I present my husband, Otto Lindenmayer.”
Papa bowed his head. “So pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”
“It’s my great pleasure, sir.” The duke smiled, and his gaze fell on Lindy, waiting slightly behind her parents. “There she is.”
Lindy curtsied. “Welcome to Seaside, Your Grace.”
The duke took her hand and brought it to his lips. He dropped a kiss on it and then looked at her, searching her face. The cold air had flushed his cheeks, and an agreeable scent of balsam wafted from his person. “And am I truly welcome, my dear Miss Lindenmayer?”
There was an admiring gasp behind her from one of the maids, quickly squashed by a sideways glance from her mother. “Of course, Your Grace. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”
“I do hope you won’t always be so formal, my dear,” murmured the duke under his breath for only Lindy to hear. “I’m simply salivating to know you better.”
Ugh. Lindy curtsied again, giving her mother the opportunity to usher the duke forward. “Let me show you to your room, Your Grace. I’m sure you need some time to freshen up and rest a bit.” She led the way up the marble stairway, followed by the duke and his male valet.
The servants dispersed to their respective duties, some to receive the duke’s suitcases and valises.
Papa glanced at her. “So, this is the duke your mother hasn’t been able to stop gushing about. Seems like a decent sort.”
Lindy shrugged.
Her father muttered something under his breath and quit the room, leaving Lindy alone. Servants were still carrying in the duke’s trunks, valises, and even a case of French champagne. It looked as if he had brought all his worldly goods with him.
She returned to her room and at half past twelve rang for Claudine, who bustled in a moment later.
“Anything?” Lindy asked as soon as her maid entered the bedroom.
Claudine shook her head. “Non. Not today.”
Lindy turned away and bit her lip. Jack would answer. She knew he would. Now she would have to wait another long twenty-four hours for tomorrow’s mail. The strain twisted her stomach and sent nausea spiraling through her.
She hadn’t slept well last night, indeed the last three nights she had lain awake for hours, pondering the future and thinking about Jack. Now sleepiness washed over her like a warm blanket. “I think I’ll rest for a while, Claudine.”
With her maid’s help, Lindy changed out of the gray silk and let her hair down. A formal dinner party tonight. She would be seated next to the duke, naturally, under the inquisitive gaze of her mother’s guests, all of whom would swoon over the fact of meeting genuine royalty. What a feat her mother had accomplished, having the Duke of Hampshire as a house guest for the Christmas season. The newspapers would be full of it tomorrow.
Lindy pulled the silk coverlet over her, rested her cheek on her arm, and fell into a doze as the afternoon shadows fell across her bedroom window. When she awakened, a true headache had ensconced itself in the space between her eyes.
She rang for Claudine. “Tell my mother I am ill, and beg leave to be excused from dinner.” Claudine nodded and left the room after getting a cold cloth.
A few minutes later, her mother entered the room and turned on the lamp. “I knew you were coming down with something this afternoon.” She sat on the edge of the bed and examined Lindy. “Is it your monthly then?”
Lindy shook her head. “A raging headache.”
“Ah. Likely to pass, then, by tomorrow.” Her gaze narrowed as she stared at Lindy. “It isn’t any more nonsense about that Winthrop boy, is it?”
Lindy shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” Mama stood up. “I’ll have Claudine fetch some lavender oil. It’s perfect for headaches.” She paused at the door. “I expect you to make a complete recovery, Evangeline, for tomorrow night. Understood?”
Half of New York society would be here for the Lindenmayer costume ball. There was no way her mother would excuse her from that.
***
No letter came the next day.
But she couldn’t plead illness to escape the masquerade ball tonight. Mama planned to introduce the duke to all the important New York society people. Sunlight fell across the bed, illuminating the masquerade costume her mother had purchased for her without her knowledge in Paris. More gold. I’m sick to death of gold.
Claudine entered the room. “It’s time, chérie. The guests will be arriving soon. I need to do your hair.”
“It won’t take long. I’m not wearing that.” She nodded at the costume on the bed.
Claudine’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother will kill me. She gave me express orders.”
“I’m sure she did.” Lindy picked up the costume and snorted. “Cleopatra, indeed!”
Charles Worth had made the dress, of course. Embroidered gold scarabs adorned the train of black crêpe de chine. Gold and diamonds encrusted the bodice, with straps of emeralds and diamonds. Cloth of gold composed the square Egyptian headdress, with striped black and gold side panels studded with diamonds, crowned by an ibis with outstretched wings of diamonds and sapphires. The jeweled girdle over the hips gave way to more cloth of gold panels to the hem, and as if that wasn’t extravagant enough, there was a jeweled ostrich fan to carry, and more diam
onds and pearls to wear around her neck.
The only thing her mother had gotten right was the small diamond asp to wear around her right arm. A prophecy of doom. Too bad it wasn’t real. Perhaps she could have used the snake on the duke. Or her mother.
“Put it away, Claudine. It’s impossible. Even if I agreed to wear it, I’d barely be able to move, let alone breathe.”
Her mother always had a plan. If she had chosen Cleopatra for her daughter, what had she proposed to the duke for his costume? Marc Antony, of course. It should have been Octavian, who forced Cleopatra’s suicide.
Dear God, help me to get through this.
Claudine lifted the costume and bore it away, groaning under its weight. “What will you wear then?”
“The Queen of the Night gown.” At least she had chosen this gown, despite her mother’s objections. Midnight blue velvet, spangled with silver stars and the constellation of Orion on one shoulder in diamonds. A pale blue silk gauze scarf representing the Milky Way in diamanté, attached to one strap by a silver nightingale.
Claudine retrieved it and laid it on the bed. “C’est belle! Now come and let me do your hair.”
Lindy sat at the dressing table while Claudine brushed out her hair and piled it on top of her head, then brought out the jewel cases. “There’s a headband for this costume somewhere.” She sifted through the contents and pulled out a silver circlet with a jeweled diamond star in the center. Claudine carefully placed it over her hair, so the star rested against her forehead. “Magnifique, mademoiselle.”
Lindy smiled at Claudine. “No, you’re magnifique, Claudine. Always there to support me.”
Claudine dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “But of course, chérie. Are you ready to make your grand entrance?”
Lindy sighed. “As ready as I can be.”
She rose from the dressing table, plucked the train in one hand, and made her way to the Grand Staircase, wrought iron and bronze, and finished with gilt bronze trophies modeled on a Versailles fountain. Her mother adored everything French, and especially anything from the time of Louis XIV. The duke was sure to be suitably impressed as he viewed the Lindenmayer wealth on display in her mother’s “cottage.”