The Tea Rose

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Fiona looked around at the courtroom’s stark white walls, at the dour portraits of the great men that hung on them. She looked at the American flag in the corner, the gilt seal of the City of New York. She looked everywhere, hoping for some indication that there was kindness in this room, an understanding of human foibles. She looked for a sign that the men who wielded so much power over others’ lives tempered that power with wisdom and tolerance. But she saw only the hard, impassive faces of the court officers and the imposing emptiness of the judge’s chair.

  Eames would never accept her story. Stephen had angered him. Hylton had made things worse, and she had added the final straw. He would insist on a trial, and then send Nick away.

  The door to the judge’s chambers suddenly opened, startling her. Eames reemerged and took his seat. All around her, Fiona heard shifting and shuffling as spectators and reporters sat at attention, ready to see what sort of developments the next round would bring. Eames was not going to keep them waiting. As soon as he had settled himself, he called for Stephen Ambrose and Fiona to approach.

  He cleared his throat, casting a glance over his courtroom as he did. “Contrary to the way I am sometimes portrayed in various of the city’s lesser newspapers,” he began, looking pointedly at Nellie Bly, “I am not without understanding. Or compassion.”

  Fiona’s heart leaped with hope.

  “I am also willing to admit that a mistake may have been made in the case of Mr. Soames.”

  Her legs went weak with relief. It’s going to be all right, she thought. He’s going to let Nick go.

  “Miss Finnegan, you say that Mr. Soames is your fiancé, and that you are certain he happened into The Slide by accident … is that true?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Eames turned toward the prisoners. “Is that true, Mr. Soames?”

  Nick looked at Fiona, a panicked expression on his face. She gave him a nod. And a look that warned him not to wreck this, his one and only chance.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” he said quietly.

  “Very well, then. I am prepared to release Mr. Soames into your custody, Miss Finnegan. On one condition …”

  “Yes, Your Honor, anything,” she said, beaming with relief and the happy knowledge that her plan had worked. She’d saved Nick! Soon this whole horrible nightmare would be over.

  “I insist that you marry Mr. Soames today. In my courtroom. As proof of your sincerity.”

  For a second, there was absolute silence in the courtroom, and then the place erupted. Stephen, joined by Teddy now, harangued the judge, telling him that this was unheard of and completely out of line. Eames shouted back, telling them he knew bullshit when he smelled it, telling them he wouldn’t be made a fool of in his own courtroom. Reporters shouted questions at her, at Nick, at Eames. Spectators chattered merrily among themselves, remarking that this was better than Tony Pastor’s theater. And Fiona stood silent and alone, dazed by the choice that Eames had just given her.

  As she stood, a sudden movement caught her eye. It was Nick. He was waving at her as best as his handcuffs would allow, trying to get her attention. She walked over to him. There was no one to stop her. Eames was embroiled in his argument. Two of the court officers were wrestling an unruly prisoner who’d stood up and cheered back into his seat. Two more were trying to quiet the crowd.

  “Stop this. Right now,” he said. “I won’t go through with it.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Are you mad?” he hissed. “You’re throwing your life away! And for no reason! This isn’t a hanging offense, Fiona. They’ll charge me, I’ll pay a fine, they’ll let me go.”

  “No, they won’t. Teddy says the judge will put you in jail, keep you there for weeks, then have you deported after a trial. Deported. To England. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Do you understand what it means, you stupid girl? You can’t marry Will if you’ve already married me! They allow that sort of thing in some places – Arabia, Africa, the South Sea Islands – but not in New York!”

  “I don’t want to marry Will.”

  Nicholas lowered his head into his hands. “Please, Fiona. Please. I’ve had enough insanity over the last twelve hours. I don’t need yours now.”

  “Nicholas … you married me once. Now I’m marrying you.”

  “That was a pretend marriage and you know it. This won’t be.”

  “You saved me.”

  “Hardly.”

  “You did. Me and Seamie both. Believe me when I tell you that. Now I’m saving you.”

  Nick raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Why?”

  Fiona shrugged helplessly. “Because I love you.”

  An officer appeared at her elbow. “I’m sorry, miss, I can’t allow access to the prisoners,” he said brusquely, leading her back to the judge’s bench.

  Eames, fed up with the noise level, started banging his gavel again.

  “Order! Order!” he shouted. “One more outburst and I’ll clear the courtroom!”

  When quiet was restored, he began again. “I’m prepared to show faith in Miss Finnegan’s story. All I require in return is proof of her word, Counselor. If Mr. Soames is truly innocent I should like to release him, but I will not have the authority of this court mocked.”

  “Your Honor,” Fiona said, trying to make herself heard, but she was drowned out by Stephen’s vociferous denouncement of the judge and his courtroom. He said that his cruel condition would ruin the church ceremony his client had planned. He was grasping at straws, trying to come up with anything he could to change Eames’s mind.

  “A civil ceremony does not preclude a religious one,” Eames countered. “They can still have their church wedding. I don’t wish to prevent it.”

  “Your Honor, please!” Fiona shouted.

  “What is it, Miss Finnegan?”

  “I accept your condition. We both do.”

  Eames nodded. “Very well. I’ll give you two hours to assemble the requisite papers while I finish the court’s business. Bring the next prisoner, please. How do you plead?”

  Fiona, dizzy with exhaustion and shock, sat down. Three reporters, wolfish and ravening, tried to push their way through to her, but Teddy and Stephen saw them off. A fourth persisted. It was Nellie Bly.

  “I need to talk to her, Teddy,” Fiona heard her say. “Not as a reporter, as a friend.”

  “It’s all right, Teddy,” Fiona said. He let her by.

  Nellie sat down next to her and leaned in close so no one could hear their conversation. “Fiona, what are you doing?” she asked quietly. “Will loves you, I know he does. I knew it before he did. I saw him mooning over you one night in the Union Club, though he wouldn’t admit it. I’ve seen you together, seen how he looks at you. Why would you hurt him like this?”

  “Because they’re going to kill Nick if I don’t.”

  “Fiona, this is America. They’re not going to kill him. He’ll do a bit of time. At worst he’ll be deported –”

  Fiona cut her off. “Do a bit of time?” she said angrily. “Like breaking rocks with a pickax he can’t even lift? Or trudging along in a chain gang until he collapses?” The very thought of Nick chained and forced into hard labor made her sick with fear. “He has a weak heart, Nellie,” she said, choking back a sob. “He can barely lift one of his paintings, never mind a shovelful of dirt … or … or a barrow filled with rocks. He wouldn’t last a week …” Her voice faltered, then broke. Tears coursed down her face. It was too much for her. Nearly losing Nick. And now losing Will for sure.

  “I’m sorry, Fiona. I didn’t know. Christ, what a choice to have to make … ssshhh, I’m so sorry …” Nellie comforted her, and when Fiona had herself under control again, she straightened and looked at the judge. “Goddamn you, Eames, you son of a bitch!” she shouted.

  Eames had been speaking to a prisoner; he stopped. Color flooded his face. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “You heard me! Is this an arraignment or the S
panish Inquisition?”

  “How dare you –”

  “I’ll tell you what it is – it’s a travesty! Forcing someone into marriage like this. You know it, and so does everyone in this courtroom!”

  “That’s enough!” Eames thundered, getting to his feet. “I’ll thank you to show due respect to my office, if not myself, when you address me in my courtroom!” he shouted. “Bailiff! Remove Miss Bly and all press from the courtroom. This instant!”

  The court was cleared. Order was finally restored and Eames was able to get on with the business of processing the arrested men. Fiona, with Teddy’s help, was able to exit the courthouse via the back entrance, thus avoiding the reporters on her way uptown to get her and Nick’s documents. He tried to dissuade her. What Eames had done was illegal, he said, the man had no right to demand or enforce such a condition. He and Stephen would sort it out, he promised. It would only take a few days. A week.

  Fiona, one arm held out to flag down a hackney, turned to him. “A week? You want me to leave him in the Tombs for a week? Did you see his face? God knows if that’s all they’ve done to him.” A cab slowed and she ran for it. “I’ll be back in two hours,” she called. “Stay with him. Stop him from doing anything stupid.”

  “It’s too late for him,” Teddy sighed, as the cab pulled away. “I was trying to stop you.”

  “Elgin? I thought your last name was Soames,” Cameron Eames said, looking at Nick’s birth certificate.

  “It’s Elgin. I go by my mother’s name, however – Soames.”

  Fiona regarded Nick. This was news to her. Very shortly her last name would become Elgin, too. Or would they use Soames? She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. For a few seconds she thought she might faint. It wasn’t surprising. She’d had no sleep, nothing to eat, and then, of course, there was this slight matter of marrying Nick.

  “What is this?” Eames asked, pointing at an abbreviation before Nick’s name.

  “It … um … it stands for viscount.”

  Oh, what is he doing now? Fiona wondered wearily. It was far too late in the game for any more stunts. They’d tried them all already. Did he really think pretending to be royalty was going to intimidate a judge?

  “Viscount?” Eames asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What is a viscount, exactly?”

  “A duke’s eldest son.”

  “Your father is a duke?”

  “The Sixth Duke of Winchester.”

  Fiona shot him a dirty look. “Stop it, you fool,” she mouthed. The Duke of Winchester’s son. Really! Next he’d be telling them she was the Princess Royal.

  He gave her a sheepish glance in return. At least she thought it was sheepish. It was hard to tell with one of his eyes swollen. He looked better than he had, though. The judge had allowed him to wash his face. He’d also smoothed his hair back and changed into the fresh clothes she’d brought. He looked presentable. Like a young man of good standing at least, and not a criminal.

  Fiona had managed to change her clothes too. She’d sneaked into Michael’s flat unnoticed. Luckily Mary had gone out somewhere with the children. In her room, she’d torn off her crumpled things and put on a white lace blouse and a turquoise sateen suit. Then she’d quickly combed her hair and snatched a hat from her closet. As she was digging in a drawer for her birth certificate, she came across her parents’ wedding rings and stuffed them into her pocket. She’d had a scare as she was on her way out. Just as she’d stepped into the parlor, the front door opened and Michael came in. She ducked back inside her room just as he came down the hallway toward the loo. She couldn’t let him know what she was doing. If he found out, he’d try to prevent it. She’d crept out while he was still in the bathroom, then ran to Seventh Avenue, where she’d been able to get a cab to Gramercy Park. It had taken some searching to locate the little leather portfolio Nick kept his papers in, but she’d finally found it under his bed. She’d snatched a fresh shirt and jacket from his closet, and then dashed back to the courthouse. If Peter Hylton and his crew wanted pictures they would have them, but not of her and Nick looking dirty and disheveled. At the very least, they would wear clean clothes on their wedding day.

  Their wedding day.

  Her hands started shaking at the very thought. She was marrying Nick. She would promise herself to him, and he to her. Forever. The light-headed feeling came back with a vengeance. She closed her eyes and dug her nails into her palms, concentrating on the pain. Don’t, don’t, don’t, she told herself. Don’t think about this. Don’t think about anything. Just get it over with.

  When Eames had finished with Nick’s certificate, he verified the information on Fiona’s, had them fill out their marriage license. Fiona gave Teddy her parents’ rings to hold. The courtroom was empty now except for her, Nick, Teddy, Stephen, and Eames. She was grateful for that. The morning had been a circus and all the clowns were still waiting for them outside on the courthouse steps. At least they wouldn’t have to say their vows in front of a throng.

  With little ado, Eames began. There were no pleasantries, no romantic sentiments, simply the ceremony, the exchange of rings, and the vows. And then the thing was done. And they were standing there facing each other with thin yellow bands on their fingers. Nicholas and Fiona Soames … or was it Elgin? Husband and wife. Till death do them part.

  Eames had them sign their marriage certificate, then had their lawyers sign it. Then he bid them good day, telling Nick he was free to go and advising him, with a tight little smile, to steer clear of The Slide and all such establishments on any future peregrinations.

  The four of them stood there awkwardly, not knowing quite what to do, until Stephen broke the silence by clapping his hands together and announcing that there was a gauntlet of press outside, and if they wanted to pull this off and make people believe Nick’s arrest was a mistake, if they wanted to prevent a scandal, they’d better look the part of the happy newlyweds. They gathered their things and followed him out.

  On the steps of the courthouse, Stephen Ambrose informed those present that Cameron Eames had an outrageous sense of justice and owed his clients an apology. Mr. Soames’s arrest had been an egregious mistake. He had suffered terribly at the hands of the police and the court system, and then he’d been intimidated into marrying his fiancée, the former Miss Fiona Finnegan, much sooner than either of them intended. “This is 1889,” he bellowed, slapping his fist into his palm for effect, “not the Dark Ages! No man should be forced to marry in a courthouse among criminals just to clear his good name!” He added that although all charges against his client had been dropped, Mr. Soames was considering suing the city for unlawful imprisonment and the violation of his civil rights.

  Pictures were taken, including one of Nicholas kissing his new bride’s cheek, and one of Fiona holding a bouquet of roses a reporter had bought from a flower seller. Questions were asked and answered, names spelled and spelled again, best wishes and congratulations were heaped upon the couple, and then, finally, the crowd dispersed. Teddy and Stephen said their farewells – both men commented that the day had easily been the most interesting one of their careers – and then they left. And Fiona and Nick were alone.

  Fiona was the first to speak. “Nick … I … I think I’m going to faint.”

  “No, don’t! There’s a bench over there, under that tree. Come on.”

  He took her elbow and led her away from the courthouse. She sat down and rested her head on her knees. Her skin was clammy. Her heart was racing. She felt as if she was going to be sick. “What have we done?” she moaned. “What will I tell Will?”

  Nick rubbed her back gently. “I’m sorry, Fiona,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.” And then he burst into tears. He cried so hard she could barely understand him. “… ruined your life … Will … you … loved him …”

  Fiona thought about what he was saying. She looked at the buildings around them, the trees, the sun high in the noon sky. Then she turned back to him. “No, I didn’t.
Not really,” she said in a voice that was oddly calm.

  “What?” he said, sniffling.

  “You were right. Remember that night at your flat? When we argued? You said I didn’t really love Will. Not the way I loved Joe. I loved many things about Will. His good heart. His intelligence. I loved the glamour of his life, and I loved being wanted by someone again, being held and cared for. But I don’t love him. Not like I should. I’m only sorry, deeply sorry, that I’m about to cause him so much pain. Joe was my true love, Nick. Like Henri was for you. You only get one of those in a lifetime. Hard as it is, I think it’s time I accepted it.”

  “Do you love me?”

  She smiled at him. “You know I do.”

  “I love you, too. And I’ll take good care of you, Fee. And Seamie, too. I promise I will. I’ll be the best husband ever. I know it won’t be the most conventional marriage … I … I can’t give you children … but I’ll give you everything else. A good home. Clothing. Nice suppers out. Whatever you like. I haven’t as much money as Will, but I have quite a bit. About ten thousand pounds a year. And the gallery’s almost open. My prospects are really quite excellent, you know.”

  Fiona gave him a sidelong look. “Nicholas Soames … are you proposing to me?”

  “I guess I am. A bit after the fact.”

  “I accept.”

  “Do you?”

  “Absolutely.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’d marry you again in a second, Nick. I’d have done anything to keep you here. You’re the most important person in the world to me. You and Seamie.”

  She heard him sniffle again. After a few seconds, he said, “Are you certain it’s what you want? It’s just that, if you wanted to I suppose we could get a divorce.”

  “No, we couldn’t. It would cause as much of a scandal as the one we just barely avoided, and I’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

  “What about your lovely dress, Fee? And the jewels Will gave you?”

  “Someone else can wear the dress. As for this …” She pulled the enormous diamond off her finger and put it in her purse. “It never did look right on me.”