Far From Home

by Val Wood

  As Georgiana outlined her status, Mrs Charlesworth looked her up and down curiously. ‘So perhaps you are looking for a husband? You cannot possibly survive without one. Not here in New York. So what will you do?’

  Georgiana rose to her feet. ‘I am not looking for a husband, Mrs Charlesworth, and I am perfectly capable of surviving without one! As for what I will do with my life, I wouldn’t dream of discussing any ideas I might have with a perfect stranger on my first day in a new country. I wish you good day.’

  She swept away from the astonished Mrs Charlesworth and climbed the stairs to her room, her heart beating fast and her cheeks flushed. You’ve made an enemy already, Georgiana, she told herself. That odious woman has probably got a great deal of influence in this town and you’ve just insulted her. She paused outside her door to calm herself, not wanting Kitty to suspect that anything was wrong. Have I made a great mistake? she thought. Have I burned my boats? What will I do?

  For the next few days she avoided the hotel lounge and she and Kitty explored the city, which was growing at a tremendous pace. The buildings were higher than she had ever seen in England, some of them five storeys, and many of the hotels were enormous and extremely luxurious. She went into the Astor Hotel for coffee and asked the bellboy how many bedrooms there were. ‘Over three hundred, ma’am,’ he informed her proudly, ‘and seventeen bathrooms! There’s nowhere else so grand, not in New York at any rate.’

  Indeed! So I shan’t be staying here, she mused. Though no doubt I would find a rich husband if I did. She earmarked several smaller hotels where, on enquiring their tariffs, she realized she could stay at a cheaper rate than at the Portland. Just a few more days, she determined, and then I’ll move out.

  The following afternoon she stepped downstairs into the hotel lounge and found it almost empty but for one gentleman sitting by a window reading a newspaper. She glanced across at the piano. Would it be considered an imposition if I should play, I wonder? But why not? It is there, it is not an ornament. I will.

  She walked across, seated herself and ran her fingers across the keys. It had been well played and the sound was mellow. There was no music on the stand but she closed her eyes and played from memory snatches of her favourite pieces. Wagner’s Flying Dutchman, Beethoven, and songs from the music hall of which her Aunt Clarissa disapproved, stating emphatically that they were songs from the devil. She wouldn’t allow Georgiana to play them, though she did each time her aunt went out. She played for perhaps fifteen minutes, concentrating and absorbing herself in the music and feeling rather nostalgic. I’m not missing Aunt Clarissa, except in a general way, she thought. Nor Cousin May, though I could perhaps regret Martin Newmarch if I allowed myself, and if he wasn’t now married to the lovely Grace.

  No, none of those, but I must admit that I am missing the familiarity of my homeland, the choppy brown waters of the river Humber which if I stood on a stool I could see from my bedroom window. And the sweet smell of new-mown grass after it has been scythed. Those are the things I am missing most of all.

  She came to the end of the piece and sat with her hands gently on the keys, and was surprised to hear a ripple of applause. Other guests had come into the lounge, had sat down to listen to her and were now clapping. A gentleman, the one who had been reading his newspaper earlier, was hovering nearby and approached her. He bowed, putting his hand on his chest in a foreign manner, and enquired, ‘Miss Gregory?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was embarrassed at having brought attention to herself and wondered how he knew her name.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he apologized, ‘but I took the liberty of enquiring of the desk clerk. I came especially to see you.’

  ‘Oh?’ She was astonished. ‘Why? How do you know of me?’

  ‘It is no great mystery.’ The smile he gave her dimpled his plump cheeks. He was a rotund man, perhaps in his early thirties, taller than her with brown hair which flopped over his forehead. ‘Mrs Burrows suggested I call on you when I was next in the Portland.’

  Georgiana gave a relieved sigh. ‘Oh. Mrs Burrows! How kind of her.’

  ‘Permit me to introduce myself.’ He took a card from the pocket of his brightly coloured tartan waistcoat and handed it to her. ‘Wilhelm Dreumel, at your service, Miss Gregory.’

  She rose from the piano as he asked, ‘Would you permit me a little time to talk?’ and they crossed to a sofa in the corner of the room. He sat opposite her, unfastening the button of his grey coat.

  ‘How are you liking the Portland Hotel, Miss Gregory?’

  ‘It’s very pleasant,’ she said. ‘But I must move soon as it is very expensive and I have only limited capital.’

  ‘Ah! Perhaps then I can help you, for you must be careful to choose somewhere that is respectable. Pardon my curiosity but do you intend staying in New York?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She hesitated, not wanting to say that her plans were as yet unformed. ‘I have come to find a new life in America, Mr Dreumel, but where that life will be I have not yet decided.’

  He nodded sagely and settling back in his chair he crossed his legs and tapped his fingers on the chair arm. ‘Miss Gregory,’ he said after a moment. ‘Mrs Burrows suggested that I introduce myself, because she thought I might be of some assistance to you. She said to me that as you were a young lady who is not looking for a husband, and as I am a man not looking for a wife, then we should get on very well together!’

  Again came the genial grin, and Georgiana couldn’t help but smile back.

  ‘She also told me,’ he went on, ‘that you were convinced that you could make your way alone in this country, but that perhaps you might accept a little help if that assistance was offered without conditions or demands.’

  ‘But why would you want to assist me, Mr Dreumel? You don’t know me or anything about me. I might be a foolish woman here on a whim. I might be looking for riches. Why would you help a stranger?’

  He shrugged. ‘When my grandfather came to this country from the Netherlands, he had nothing. He brought his wife and son – my father – and always spoke of the help he had received from total strangers. He was lucky, I suppose, he could just as easily have come across others who would have turned their backs on him. But because of that, he brought up my father to do what he could for others, and my father did the same for me.

  ‘Times have changed, of course.’ He gazed around the room at the opulent surroundings. ‘My grandfather and father never made much money though they worked hard, but they were happy men, content with what their endeavours had brought them.’

  ‘Yes.’ Georgiana leaned towards him. ‘That is what I want! And I don’t see why, just because I am a woman, I shouldn’t be able to do that too. I want to be considered a proper person in my own right.’

  ‘I can see why you got on so well with Mrs Burrows.’ He smiled. ‘She too is a very independent woman. Or she was,’ he reflected. ‘Regrettably her age is now catching up with her, though I’m quite sure that she will always be very vocal in her beliefs.’

  ‘Then there is hope for me!’ Georgiana felt buoyed up by their conversation. Wilhelm Dreumel was a very engaging, candid man, obviously not given to handing out flattery or compliments as some men were, but he spoke to her in a frank and easy manner as if he was talking to another man.

  ‘There is plenty of hope, Miss Gregory. But you will not find it easy: there will be many who will look down upon you for not having a husband in tow, and you will be regarded with suspicion by some ladies if you so much as smile or pass the time of day with their menfolk.’

  ‘So what of you, Mr Dreumel?’ She remembered that he had said he was not looking for a wife. ‘Do you have an understanding wife or are you a confirmed bachelor?’

  A shadow fell across his affable face. ‘I did have a beautiful and understanding wife, but sadly she died in childbirth and the child did not survive. We had been married only one year and we were both very young. She was eighteen and I twenty-one. I have not wanted another wife, for she was
irreplaceable.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘It must be very hard to lose someone you love.’

  He nodded sombrely. ‘It is, it is very hard indeed. I shall never recover from it. So,’ he perked up and spoke cheerfully, ‘after all these years, twelve in September, no-one tries to find me another wife as they did to begin with. Poor Bill, my friends used to say. We must find him someone to marry. They now know that I am a lost cause, and the women that I know are my friends and not my lovers.’

  She gazed at him. He would be a good friend, she mused. Honest and plain-speaking. If I get to know him perhaps he would also be a friend to me. It might be helpful, sometimes, to hear a man’s point of view.

  ‘Mr Dreumel,’ she said boldly. ‘Could I invite you to supper?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Wilhelm Dreumel said that although he would be happy to be her guest, if she would permit it he would like to choose the venue. Georgiana was glad of that offer for she did not want to be seen dining in the Portland with a gentleman, in case Mrs Charlesworth might also be taking supper and think the worst. How foolish I am, she thought irritably, as she dressed for the evening. I’m trying to be an independent woman and here I am worrying over someone tittle-tattling about me.

  However, when she came down the stairs to meet him at six o’clock in the foyer as they had arranged, she saw that Mr Dreumel was engaged in earnest conversation with another man.

  His eyes swept over her as she approached and he smiled admiringly. Kitty had ironed all her gowns and she had chosen to wear a deep blue, which, she had been told, emphasized the colour of her eyes. Over her gown she wore a shoulder cape in a darker shade of blue, as the evening was growing chilly.

  ‘Miss Gregory.’ Dreumel held out his hand to include her in their conversation. ‘Permit me to introduce a colleague, John Charlesworth.’

  Oh, no, she breathed. Not the husband of that dreadful woman! She smiled, however, and inclined her head in greeting.

  ‘Delighted, Miss Gregory.’ John Charlesworth bowed. ‘Are you newly arrived in New York?’

  So his wife hasn’t told him of me and how rude I was, she cogitated, beginning to regret her hasty departure from that lady.

  ‘Just a few days ago,’ she replied.

  ‘And are you impressed by our fine city? I believe it is comparable with London for its shops and theatres, though not of course for its ancient buildings and heritage,’ he added.

  ‘Indeed I am. It’s a very handsome city,’ she agreed. ‘The streets are much wider than our English streets and the colour of the stone buildings is very appealing. The gardens too,’ she added and was surprised at her own enthusiasm, ‘are lovely.’

  ‘Good. Good,’ he said, and, as he took his leave, declared, ‘I must introduce you to my wife, Miss Gregory. She likes to meet people from other lands.’

  ‘I believe we have met already, Mr Charlesworth,’ she said. ‘But I shall be glad to renew her acquaintance.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ she remarked to Wilhelm Dreumel as they left the Portland – he had suggested that as it wasn’t far they might walk to the hotel where they were to eat. ‘I’m afraid I may have insulted his wife when I met her. I was rather discourteous, for she was so very patronizing and wished to organize my life.’

  He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry yourself, Miss Gregory. Mrs Charlesworth would not notice if you were rude to her, for she never listens to anyone’s opinion. She thinks only that she knows best, and yet she has no education or discernment. She has lived in the Portland Hotel for the last ten years and goes nowhere but to New York balls, parties and theatres. That is her life.’

  ‘Poor woman,’ Georgiana murmured. ‘Does her husband not travel either?’

  ‘He does, but she will not go with him, preferring to stay at the Portland where she behaves as if she owns it.’

  The Marius Hotel where they were to dine was situated in a small quiet square. It was not as large or as lavish as the Portland, being plainly constructed on the outside with balconies on the first and second floors. It was well furnished with good carpets and curtains, and, like the Portland, had many small tables and comfortable sofas in the main lounge, and although it did not have a grand foyer, there was a wide hall with a piano, paintings on the walls and a welcoming fire in a large hearth.

  ‘Delightful,’ Georgiana said as they entered. ‘How very pleasant.’

  Mr Dreumel nodded at her approval. ‘After we have eaten supper – and the food is good and wholesome – you may decide that you would prefer to live here. This is why I brought you.’

  She noticed, as they were shown to their places in the dining room, that although several tables were occupied, they were occupied by gentlemen only, and the few ladies who were there were sitting separately and at a distance from the other diners. When she commented on this, her companion said that few ladies dined out with their husbands, and that gentlemen generally dined alone.

  ‘Is this a typical New York custom?’ she asked. ‘Or a general American one?’

  ‘I can’t answer that, Miss Gregory,’ he said. ‘I can’t say I have noticed it elsewhere, but then apart from when I am in New York, the company I keep is generally male.’

  ‘Why is that, Mr Dreumel?’ She smiled. ‘You are not allergic to the company of ladies or you would not have approached me, nor would you have spoken of Mrs Burrows or accepted my invitation to supper!’

  ‘Certainly not.’ He laughed. ‘I like the company of ladies. But my business takes me to places where there are few members of the female society. I have a newspaper company,’ he explained. ‘Penny newspapers in New York and Philadelphia. Ladies tend not to be in that kind of business.’

  ‘I’m sure the women of America read newspapers,’ she commented. ‘Would they not like to read something written by a woman?’

  He took her question seriously and surveyed her as the soup and bread were brought to the table. ‘I don’t personally know of any woman who writes for a newspaper, though there are of course female writers of novels. I regret to say, though, they are not as a rule approved of by the general public. And,’ he added with a grin, ‘the writer most disapproved of, though her book is widely read, is the English lady Mrs Fanny Trollope, who was not impressed by American life.’

  Georgiana sighed. ‘It seems, then, that life for women is not so very different here than in England.’

  ‘No, perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘But it will come. In time.’

  ‘But it might be too late for me,’ she said passionately. ‘I want to make my own decisions about my life.’

  ‘You are young, Miss Gregory. And you can do as you wish. Who is to stop you?’

  She looked across at him. ‘I’m twenty-three!’ she replied.

  ‘In your prime! A perfect age for a woman who does not want the disadvantage of a husband to hold her back! A sensible age for travelling alone with perhaps just a companion.’

  ‘A companion?’ she said suspiciously. ‘What companion?’

  ‘You have brought a young woman with you, have you not?’ he asked. ‘I thought that Mrs Burrows said—’

  ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘You mean Kitty? thought—’

  ‘No,’ he said solemnly, though there was a sparkle of fun in his eyes. ‘I did not mean anyone else. I would not presume—’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ She was embarrassed. ‘You see how difficult it is for a woman, Mr Dreumel? We are torn between what we have been taught and what we want. Sometimes,’ she added softly, ‘I think that we don’t know what we want, only that we want something different. It can be quite bewildering.’

  They ate in silence for a while, then Georgiana said, ‘So shall we talk about you, Mr Dreumel? Tell me about your newspaper business. How far do you travel?’

  ‘Between New York and Philadelphia. I hope eventually to open a newspaper in Detroit. How is your fowl?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Tender?’

  ‘Very,’ she said. ‘Delicious. I would like to move here fro
m the Portland if the rates are reasonable.’

  ‘They are,’ he said. ‘But you must ask tonight. It is a very popular hotel and there are not many rooms.’

  She said that she would. She felt comfortable here, the staff were politely friendly without being too familiar or condescending, as she felt they were at the Portland.

  ‘I am also in other fields.’ He returned to the original subject, first taking a drink from his wine glass. ‘My father worked as a miner in Philadelphia, and because I have a smattering of knowledge I went off to California in ’49 to try my luck.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell me that you struck gold!’

  Sheepishly he nodded. ‘I found a placer deposit of free gold.’ He saw a question in her face. ‘It’s called free gold because it’s mixed in with sand or gravel and is recovered by washing in a mining pan. It’s found mostly in river beds.’

  ‘So has it made you rich?’ She smiled. ‘Do I set my bonnet at you after all?’

  He laughed, then leaned towards her. ‘I shall get richer with my newspapers, but I bought the New York newspaper with some of the proceeds.’ He hesitated, then said, lowering his voice, ‘I want to raise castle, and someone showed me a perfect place. As an American citizen I was able to buy the land, and then I discovered what I believe to be a gold lode there.’

  ‘A gold lode?’ she whispered back. ‘What is that?’

  ‘It’s gold that is buried in rock. It has to be crushed out of the rock which means using expensive machinery. We’ve staked a claim and are setting up right now.’

  ‘We? You have a partner?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘John Charlesworth. He has agreed to put capital into the scheme. The one problem is his wife. If she should hear of it it will be all over New York and we’ll have every gold miner in America trailing us.’