The Test of Gold

by Renee Yancy

  Mama had regained consciousness and was pleading with the duke, who refused to speak to her, turned his back, and stalked away with his family.

  Only her father hadn’t moved from his place in the first pew, oblivious to his steaming wife. He stared at Lindy and then shook his head, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to smile at him, while the flash of adrenaline that had powered her through the last few minutes seeped away and left a sick quivering in her belly.

  Mama charged at her then, the loose flesh of her neck and jowls shaking, and patches of red high on her cheeks. “How could you? You’ve ruined us!” She shook her fist in Lindy’s face. “After all I’ve done for you! All these years, all our plans!”

  Lindy straightened her trembling limbs and faced her mother. “They were never my plans, Mama. I tried to tell you.”

  “Oh, you’ll be sorry, my girl.” Her mother’s lips twisted. “I never want to see you again. You’re disowned! Out of this family,” she screeched. “Do you hear me? Out!”

  Papa came forward and put a restraining hand on his wife’s plump arm. “Don’t say things you might regret, Vera.”

  Mama shook him off. “I mean every word! You won’t get a penny, do you hear me?” Her spittle hit Lindy in the face.

  Lindy swallowed hard. “I couldn’t marry him.”

  Her father managed to get an arm around Mama and dragged her off. “Not a penny, Miss!” she screamed over Papa’s shoulder. “Do you hear me? How could you? How could you? Ohhhhhh...”

  Her wails echoed through the empty church and then faded to a moan. The orchestra finished packing up their instruments and left.

  Reverend Winthrop had withdrawn to the sacristy to wait out the kerfuffle. Now he walked into the sanctuary, plucked his Bible off the podium, and glared at Lindy. “You’ve accomplished nothing, Miss Lindenmayer. Jack’s gone out west. You’ll never see him again.”

  The words slashed through her heart like a sword thrust. “Out west? What do you mean?”

  His lip curled. “Far away from you. Heaven help you, now you’ve defied your parent’s wishes so publicly.” He shook his head. “What were you thinking?” Muttering under his breath, he turned and marched away, his shoulders stiff.

  Lindy sank onto the carpeted steps, heedless of her expensive gown. Jack gone? How could she find out where? Her heart thudded in her chest. She had defied her mother in the most public way possible. Vera would never forgive her.

  But it will all be worth it if I can find Jack.

  Footsteps pattered in the sanctuary. Papa and Aunt Gertrude had returned.

  Lindy rose on shaky legs and threw herself into her father’s arms. “Papa, I’m so sorry.” Tears poured out. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Please forgive me.”

  She wept until there were no tears left. Papa guided her to the front pew and sat, drawing her close. “There, there, liebchen, don’t cry anymore.”

  “But what am I to do, Papa? I can’t go home. Mama is so angry with me.”

  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Dry your tears. I have a plan.”

  Aunt Gertrude took Lindy’s hand. “You can come to Buffalo while we try to find out where Jack has gone.”

  Papa nodded. “I’ve already sent Claudine home to bring your luggage to the train station.”

  “You’re not angry, Papa?”

  Her father shook his head. “No, sweetheart. You did what I’ve never managed to do—stand up to your mother. But now we must deal with the consequences. Even if I could persuade your mother to allow you home, it wouldn’t be pleasant. The best thing is to go to Buffalo with Gertrude while we try to sort it all out. But right now, we must sneak you out of the church. I persuaded Reverend Winthrop to lock the front doors. The press will be mad to get in here.”

  “Stand up, dear.” Aunt Gertrude turned Lindy around, detached the train from the wedding gown, and folded it over her arm. She held out her own velvet cloak. “Put this on.”

  Lindy allowed her aunt to throw the voluminous cloak around her shoulders. It had a large hood, meant to go over a lady’s elaborate hairstyle, and Gertrude pulled this forward to hide Lindy’s face, then quickly buttoned the cloak over the wedding dress.

  “Come now. We’ll go out another way.” Papa pulled her cold hand through his and hustled her up the steps, through the sacristy, and along a hallway.

  “Hurry, sweetheart,” her father urged. “Hold on.”

  Her father’s closed carriage waited at the bottom of the church’s rear entrance. Papa helped her traverse the steps, then assisted Gertrude into the carriage. Snowflakes drifted through the air.

  “Goodbye, Lindy.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be in touch soon. I’ll arrange an allowance for you, through Gertrude’s bank in Buffalo.”

  “Please, Papa, try to find out where Jack is?”

  Her father pressed his lips together. “I’ll do my best.”

  “She said she’d shoot him.”

  “What?” Her father’s jaw gaped. “Who said that?”

  Lindy lowered her voice, aware of Gertrude in the carriage behind her. “Mama.”

  Her father’s eyes widened. “You—you must have misunderstood her, darling.”

  “No. She said it. She meant it.”

  He rubbed a hand over his forehead, frowning and shaking his head.

  “Find him. And don’t tell her. Please, Papa. I love him.” She squeezed her father’s hands. “Please try.”

  He sighed. “I will. Now, off with you.”

  He helped her into the carriage, firmly closed the door, and nodded at the coachman.

  Aunt Gertrude pulled the window shades closed as Lindy sank against the cushions in a daze. When she had awakened in her bedroom this morning, she’d had no idea the turn her wedding day would take. She shuddered to think of the anger her mother would take out on the servants.

  ***

  The carriage joined a line of other vehicles waiting to discharge passengers outside the old Grand Central Depot. Snow fell in earnest now. The station bustled with passengers waiting to buy tickets, surrounded by their bags. Children cried, men shouted, and an occasional lapdog barked from its basket. Through the gates came the shriek of train whistles and the hiss of steam brakes.

  They entered the train shed with its massive glass and iron arches soaring overhead. Aunt Gertrude’s Pullman car waited on its own track. Painted in a classic green, with ornate gold lettering on the side that spelled out “Pullman Palace,” it had to be eighty feet long. A butler appeared on the porch with brass balusters and a striped awning at the end of the car. He bowed.

  “Do you remember Polden?” Aunt Gertrude smiled at her butler.

  The neat black mustache had turned white, and his eyebrows too. Polden bowed.

  “I do remember. So pleased to see you again, Polden.”

  He offered her his gloved hand to assist her up the platform steps.

  Claudine waited behind him. “Oh, chérie.” She embraced Lindy. “I’ve always wanted to see Buffalo.”

  Lindy laughed, and then nearly sobbed. “Dearest Claudine. Are you sure?”

  “Oui!”

  “Do let’s go inside, dear,” Aunt Gertrude said. “Let me show you the rest of the car, and then perhaps you’d like to rest?”

  Lindy nodded. She had been in Pullman cars before, on trips to Philadelphia to visit Aunt Julia. But Papa hadn’t seen the need to have his own private car, and surprisingly Mama had agreed with him.

  It was blessedly warm inside. Lindy tried to pay attention as Polden showed her around the Pullman. Her legs seemed frozen, and every other moment, a sick quivering stabbed through her spine to the pit of her stomach. The wedding was well and truly off, ruined by her refusal.

  Polden’s lips moved, but she barely understood him. She tried to concentrate, her numb brain absorbing some of the tour. A corridor with oak-paneled walls ran the length of the car, with windows facing it. To their right were
small compartments for servants.

  A small dining room adjoined the kitchen, illuminated with a crystal chandelier, walls of burnished mahogany, and an oriental rug underneath the table. Pastoral landscape scenes adorned the curved ceiling, and intricate marquetry in patterns of fruit and flowers decorated every cabinet. The parlor had overstuffed club chairs and padded footstools, placed to view the passing scenery. Decorative leaded glass crowned every window.

  Lindy inspected one of the bronze sconces on the walls. “Electric?”

  “Yes, miss. The entire car is electrified.”

  “It certainly is impressive, Auntie.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and the conductor entered and doffed off his cap. “Are you ready to leave, Miss Lindenmayer?”

  Gertrude glanced at Lindy. “Quite ready, my dear?”

  “I’m ready. Thank you.”

  The conductor nodded and left the compartment.

  Lindy swayed on her feet. The weight of the wedding gown dragged at her legs and spine. “I—I think I will lie down for a bit.”

  “Of course, my dear. Why don’t you take a nap? I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

  Aunt Gertrude, Claudine, and Polden all gazed at her with sympathetic expressions. Suddenly she wanted to rip the suffocating dress off her body. “I have to get this off.” There was a note of hysteria in her voice. She ran a finger around the tight neckband of satin at her neck and wrenched it away from her skin.

  “This way.” Claudine laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the back of the Pullman. Beyond the sitting room were two separate staterooms, complete with their own bathrooms. Claudine turned aside at the second door. Curved windows on both sides provided a panoramic view. Rose silk-shaded lamps glowed on the brocade-papered walls, and there was a small, attached dressing room.

  The Pullman lurched, and steam hissed as the locomotive chugged out of the station. The dim interior of the stateroom brightened as they emerged into the daylight. The tall buildings of New York City sped past and then were left behind as the train picked up speed.

  Claudine couldn’t undo the tiny buttons of the dress fast enough for Lindy. She clenched her fists and willed herself to stay calm as Claudine lifted the tight-fitting bodice over her head, and she could finally step out of the skirt.

  “Unlace me, please.” She kicked her wedding slippers off. Every tight and restraining garment had to come off, including her unmentionables, silk stockings, and jeweled garters, until every piece of wedding finery lay on the floor. Claudine had a simple nightgown waiting. One of her old ones. “Thank you, Claudine.” She sighed as the soft folds of the old worn nightgown swathed her limbs.

  Claudine turned the bed covers down. But Lindy walked to the bank of windows and unlatched one.

  “Chérie? What are you doing?”

  Lindy didn’t answer, struggling with the window catch. When it came free, she pushed the sill up as far as it would go. Snowflakes streamed into the room on the rush of cold air, taking her breath away. Already they were out of the city heading north. The iron tracks stretched out behind them and disappeared into the falling snow. She turned and snatched the pieces of her wedding gown off the floor.

  Claudine’s hand went to her mouth. “No, Lindy. You can’t.”

  Lindy didn’t answer. She rolled the heavy bodice and skirt into an awkward bundle.

  “It’s worth a fortune, chérie.”

  Lindy knew that. Her mother had crowed about the expense of the Worth gown, noting no heiress had ever had as expensive a gown as Lindy had. Even the newspapers had speculated on its cost and had even dared to suppose her garters would have diamonds in them. It mattered nothing now. She retrieved the silver and pearl-studded wedding slippers and wrapped them in a fold of the satin.

  “Don’t do it,” begged Claudine.

  Lindy ignored her and tried to stuff the gown through the window. It was too wide, and she partially unrolled it and fed it through the opening, until finally it burst out of the window and the wind snatched it. The shoes and bodice went one way, the ridiculous puffs inflated like balloons, and the skirt sailed into the air and belled out, the silver embroidery flashing before the dress disappeared into the white curtain of snow.

  Lindy heaved a sigh. Now perhaps she could sleep. Heaven knows the day had been exhausting enough. She closed the window, sank into the featherbed, and pulled up the rose silk coverlet.

  Claudine turned off all the lamps but one in the dressing room. “Ring if you need me.” She shut the door quietly behind her.

  Lindy closed her eyes, grateful for the silence and lulled by the rocking motion of the car. The future stretched before her like a vast empty plain. All the plans and way of life mapped out for her by her mother and the duke had vanished. Wiped out like chalk on a blackboard.

  The future was one big question mark.

  “Oh, Jack,” she whispered.

  ***

  Lindy woke when the rocking motion of the train slowed. A short while later, the hiss of the brakes announced their arrival in Buffalo. Snow still fell heavily.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door, and Claudine peeped in. “Chérie?”

  “I’m awake. Come in.” She sat up and pushed the covers off.

  Claudine entered carrying a tray with cups and a silver pot, with steam curling from the spout invitingly. “Coffee?”

  “That would be heavenly.” Lindy sighed. Maybe the coffee would penetrate the layer of ice that encased her from head to foot.

  She stirred sugar and cream into her cup and took a sip.

  “We won’t detrain for a bit. There’s so much snow your aunt has sent to the house for a sleigh.”

  “I’ve done it now, haven’t I?” The cup clacked against the saucer in her hand, and Lindy set it down before it could spill.

  Claudine nodded, a warm look in her brown eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

  “She’ll never forgive me.”

  Claudine shrugged. “Perhaps in time.”

  “I hope she won’t be too beastly to Papa.”

  Claudine arched an eyebrow delicately. “I’m sure he will be spending beaucoup time in the stables.”

  “Perhaps he’ll move to the stables!” The layer of ice around her heart melted into sudden laughter, and Claudine joined in, convulsing in giggles and gasps until tears ran down their cheeks.

  Lindy wiped her eyes. “Yes, I’ve done it now. It wasn’t a dream.”

  “Oublie le passe—a l’avenir, chérie,” said Claudine. “On to the future. Are you going to finish your coffee?”

  Lindy shook her head, and Claudine picked up the tray. “I’ll return to help you dress.”

  Lindy sank against the cushions. How long would it be before the quivering stab of apprehension no longer speared her insides every time she thought about what had happened today? At what she had caused to happen.

  If she had gone through with the wedding ceremony, she’d be in a Pullman car right now alone with the duke. Headed for her honeymoon.

  It was definitely better to be alone, even with her future ruined and no knowledge of where Jack was.

  When Claudine knocked on the door and entered the room, Lindy gave her a brilliant smile. So much better to see Claudine entering the bedroom than the duke.

  After Claudine helped her dress, Lindy went into the parlor.

  Aunt Gertrude sat in a chair, her feet propped up, reading the newspaper. She rose and kissed Lindy’s cheek. “Did you get some rest, dear?”

  Lindy nodded.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Lindy didn’t know whether the constant quivering of her stomach was hunger or... something else. Fear for the future, perhaps. The tiny pang that ran through her nerves every time she thought of Jack wasn’t going away anytime soon. “I suppose I should be.”

  “Excellent. I’ve asked Polden to make us a light repast while we’re waiting for the sleigh.”

  Polden appeared with a large silver tray laden with covered
dishes.

  “Here, Polden. The dining room seems too formal after such a day.”

  The butler deposited the tray onto a low table. Aunt Gertrude lifted one cover to reveal a mound of buttered toast. Underneath a cozy, a silver pot held cocoa, delicately spiced with cinnamon, and an enormous apple pie lay under the third, still warm from the oven.

  “Mmm.” Lindy’s mouth watered. “I think I am hungry after all, Auntie. Thank you.”

  They ate and drank for a while in silence. Finally, Lindy put her napkin away and sighed. “That was delicious.”

  Polden appeared. “The sleigh has arrived, madame.”

  They tucked themselves into the sleigh, well-wrapped with lap robes and mufflers around their faces. The snow had finished its dizzy dance after coating every tree and branch.

  The coverlet of snow had hushed the city streets and even dimmed the streetlights’ yellow glow. Only the bells on the horses jingled sweetly, and the peaceful silence swallowed that up too. Soon the sleigh turned onto Delaware Avenue, a broad street with spacious mansions, wide lawns, and tree branches arching to meet overhead into a perfect colonnade.

  The sleigh pulled around the rear of the mansion. Aunt Gertrude waved at snow-covered flower beds. “It’s difficult to believe, but there are tulips blooming under there.”

  Aunt Gertrude showed her to a bedroom with a small fire in the grate, softly lit with silk-shaded lamps.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, dear.”

  Claudine helped her undress and left quietly.

  Even though Lindy had slept on the train, her limbs were heavy. A vague headache beat at her temples. She pulled aside the silk drapes from the window opposite her bed. A crescent moon glowed high on the horizon, surrounded by glittering stars. She left the curtain open, and a silvery beam of light fell across the room.

  She got into bed and pulled the covers up. Hot tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Jack,” she whispered into her pillow. “Where are you?”

  Chapter 41

  Buffalo, New York

  Lindy couldn’t seem to stir out of bed the next day and stayed in her room. She told Claudine to take the day off. Poor Claudine. Her life had changed too, although she was her usual cheery self.