City of Darkness and Light

by Rhys Bowen

  “I hate to think of someone getting away with this,” I said. “It’s not fair.”

  He reached out to me and stroked my cheek. “Life isn’t fair, my darling. Surely you know that by now. But if we can finally pin a conviction on their leader and have him shut away in Sing Sing, then it might have been worth it.” At the front door he took me in his arms and kissed me, hard and demandingly on the mouth. “And in the meantime,” he said, “you’ll be living it up in ‘Gay Paree.’”

  Seven

  On May 21, 1905, Daniel, Liam, and I traveled to the Hudson Piers in a closed carriage. I carried with me one trunk of clothing, containing the most suitable items donated by Dodo Phillips. She was horrified that I planned to travel with only one trunk and so few items of clothing. I assured her that I would have no need of her more extravagant gowns, however lovely they were. Of course I couldn’t tell her I was off to Paris and made her think I was heading for a remote location in the country. She had also given Liam enough gowns, capes, caps, and blankets to keep him well-dressed until he progressed to wearing pants. I was extremely grateful to her, of course. She had tried hard to keep me amused and entertained, giving up some of her own social engagements to stay with me and teaching me how to play mah-jongg. But her bubbly chatting was hard to take when I was trying to come to terms with my own reduced circumstances, not knowing whether my house could be rebuilt or where we’d go when I returned from Paris. And God knew when that would be.

  The one remarkable thing that had happened during the week was that Aggie’s relatives had been located and had come to claim her body. It turned out that her mother had never wanted to turn her out, but had been overruled by a stern and strict husband. It was pitiful to witness her grief now, Daniel had said. I hoped that her father would have his share of suffering eventually.

  A cable had also come from Sid and Gus, more long-winded than mine had been, saying how excited they were and that I must send a telegram when I knew which boat train I was catching so that they could meet me at the station. I pictured seeing their familiar faces, beaming at me as the train pulled in, and I felt a bubble of hope for the first time in days.

  “Here we are,” Daniel said as the carriage turned in at the Twenty-fourth Street pier. “Wait here while I find a porter to take your belongings on board.”

  I looked out to see a sleek liner with two big red funnels and two tall masts. She wasn’t as big as the Majestic had been, on which I had traveled from Liverpool in steerage, but she looked elegant enough and large enough to brave the Atlantic waves. Daniel carried Liam and swept us quickly up the gangplank.

  “Surely you don’t think that I’ll be in danger traveling to Europe?” I said.

  “I don’t believe so,” Daniel answered, “but these men do still have connections with other ruffians in the south of Italy.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we are making too much of their skills and their reach. Maybe the bomb was a lucky accident for them and they only intended to give me a warning, not burn down our house. It’s hard to tell. They may just be a gang of local thugs after all. Still, I’m not prepared to run any risks with my wife and child. Don’t forget to send me a cable the moment you arrive.”

  “Of course I will,” I said. I looked at his face with longing. How could I bear to be parted from him for so long?

  His eyes met mine. “How can I bear to be parted from you both?” he said, echoing my thoughts. “But we’ll get through it, because we’re both brave and strong and we want what’s best for our son.”

  I nodded, biting my lip and not trusting myself to speak. A steward came up to us and asked for my cabin number. Then he led us along narrow passageways to my cabin. He was very French-looking with slicked black hair and a jaunty black mustache.

  “I ’ope madame will ’ave ’appy voyage wiz us,” he said.

  I noticed that other passengers who passed us were also speaking French. I wished that I had brushed up on my French during that week with Dodo rather than learning mah-jongg and studying dress patterns for Dodo’s future soirees. When I had taken my lessons with the Hartley girls at the big house my French had been quite good. The governess insisted that young ladies of good family should be fluent in French and we had conversation practice every day. I seemed to have a natural facility for language and was better at it than Miss Henrietta and Miss Vanessa. A lot had happened since I sat in the schoolroom at the Hartleys’ mansion. I wondered how much French I would remember. I’d have to get in some practice during the crossing.

  The steward let us in to my cabin. It was not the luxury I had experienced the last time I crossed the Atlantic from New York, but then that cabin had been first class. This one had a bunk bed on one wall, a built-in closet on the other with a small crib crammed in beside it. My trunk had been delivered and was taking up much of the remaining floor space.

  “Zee bathrooms are to your right,” the steward said. “I leave you now and bid you bon voyage.”

  Daniel shot me a worried glance. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, is it? Will you be all right?”

  “It’s only for a few days, isn’t it?” I tried to put on a brave face because there really was no alternative.

  Liam was wiggling to get down. I realized that I’d have my hands full watching over him on a ship in the ocean, with no Aggie to help me.

  “I really should be getting back,” Daniel said. I knew that he hated emotional scenes and a long drawn-out good-bye was to be avoided at all costs.

  I nodded. “Yes, I’d better unpack. Liam will want nursing soon.”

  “Don’t come and see me off,” he said. “Better that way.”

  I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak now. He took Liam from me, kissed him then held him out, looking at him. “Good-bye, son,” he said and put him into the crib. Then he took me into his arms. “Good-bye, my darling,” he whispered. “Take care of yourself.”

  “And you too,” I whispered back and kissed him. The kiss conveyed all the passion and longing we couldn’t express in words. Then Liam started to cry and we broke apart.

  “Watch out for those Frenchmen,” Daniel said, attempting to be jaunty now. “They can be very fresh, I hear.”

  “I’ll look forward to the challenge. And what you don’t know can’t hurt you,” I teased back.

  “I have to go,” he said again. As he opened the door I called after him. “Daniel. Take care. Don’t take any risks, please. I love you.”

  He blew me a kiss and hurried off down the hall and out of sight. Liam was bawling lustily now, holding out his arms to be picked up. I wanted to be on deck and watch as we sailed out of New York harbor, but I had to put my child’s needs first. I picked him up, sat on the bottom bunk, opened my blouse front and put him to the breast. I felt the tension leave his body, and some of the tension left my own.

  Suddenly the cabin door was flung open. I tried to jump up, bumping my head against the upper bunk, then tried to cover myself as an elderly woman came in. She stopped and stared when she saw me.

  “What in God’s name?” she demanded. “What are you doing in my cabin?”

  “I’m sorry but you’ve made a mistake. This is my cabin,” I said. “Cabin thirty-four, C deck. I have my ticket here.”

  “There must be some mistake,” she said in a haughty voice. “This is definitely the cabin I was given because my friends are just across the hall. We asked for rooms together, you see. We’re traveling as a group, but there are five of us and I was the odd man out.”

  “Maybe we’re supposed to be sharing,” I suggested, the thought not having occurred to me before. There were two bunks.

  She stared down at me and my still-nursing baby, only partially covered by his robes that I had hastily pulled over me with distaste. “But they promised me,” she said. “I know it was supposed to be a two-berth cabin, but they told me the other berth would be unoccupied.”

  “I’m afraid my decision to sail on this ship was made at the very last minute. The cabin would h
ave been unoccupied when you booked it.”

  “But I can’t possibly share with…” She frowned at us again and left the rest of the sentence hanging.

  “Perhaps the purser will be able to find you alternative accommodation with somebody more suitable,” I said.

  “I heard someone saying that the ship was completely full. Really this is too tiresome.” She gave an annoyed little sigh. Liam, now satisfied and curious to know with whom his mother was speaking lifted aside the layers of cotton and lace I had draped over him and peeked out at her. Her expression softened. “I’m sorry. That was most rude of me. If I am only paying for a berth in a double cabin, then I have to take my chances, don’t I? One must make the best of it, I suppose. And it’s really only to change clothing and sleep.”

  “He’s normally a very good baby,” I said, hastily fastening my blouse buttons. “He sleeps through the night well.”

  “I don’t doubt it. So it’s a little boy, is it? One can never tell.”

  I looked down at his curls and white lace robes and smiled. “Impossible to tell. I don’t usually favor this amount of lace and ribbons but these garments were given to us. His name’s William but we call him Liam.”

  “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” she said. “I’m Edith Pinkerton. Miss Edith Pinkerton. I’m traveling with a group of friends on a cultural tour of Europe. We are two widows and three spinsters—the other spinsters are retired schoolteachers, like myself. My bosom pal, Miss Hetherington, is a real aficionada of European art. She was formerly the art teacher at a ladies’ seminary in Boston where they educated girls from the finest families. So it was she who set up our itinerary. We’ll be visiting Venice, Florence, Rome, Munich, Vienna, and finishing up in Paris…”

  “How lovely for you,” I said when she paused to take a breath. “I’m Mrs. Sullivan. Molly Sullivan.”

  We shook hands formally. Then she looked around the narrow space. “The only question will now be who takes the top bunk. I consider myself quite agile for my advanced age, but…”

  “I really don’t mind taking the top bunk,” I said, “but I may have to attend to my child if he cries and perhaps take him into bed with me.”

  “Take him into bed with you? My dear, isn’t that most unhealthy? One should not give in to them or spoil them in that manner. And I’m surprised to find you nursing him yourself. I thought all modern mothers made use of the bottle. So much more hygienic.”

  “It’s lucky I am nursing him,” I said. “I don’t know how one would heat up bottles at all hours on a ship like this.”

  “Oh, Miss Hetherington says that the stewards and stewardesses on these ships are wonderful,” she said. “They will do anything for you, so I’ve heard. Of course last time she traveled on an English line. Whether the French will be as accommodating, we shall have to see, won’t we?”

  There was a tap at the cabin door and a steward’s face came around it. “Your baggage has arrived, madame,” he said to Miss Pinkerton. Then he looked at the cabin with the cot on one wall and my trunk on the floor. “Mon dieu,” he said.

  “Is there perhaps another cabin that might be available for Mademoiselle Pinkerton?” I asked. “It seems unfair that she should have to share with a small child who might disturb her sleep.”

  He shrugged in that very Gallic way. “All is occupied, Madame. It seems that ze whole world wishes to spend springtime in Paris zis year.”

  “We’ll manage,” Miss Pinkerton said. “Leave the trunk in the hall outside the door. I’ll go and find my friends and leave you to unpack, Mrs. Sullivan. Then your trunk can be taken away and I’ll have room to unpack my small valise. Miss Hetherington warned us to travel light, since we have to take so many trains and she said sometimes one is required to jump on or off when the train is in motion.”

  She waved the steward away and shut the door behind her, leaving Liam and me alone in the cabin. I took out only the clothing Liam and I would need on the voyage, making sure she had half the closet space, then dragged the trunk outside, telling the steward he could put it into storage for me until we arrived. He put my mind at rest by assuring me that laundry would be taken care of during the voyage and a pail would be provided in the bathroom for dirty diapers. I had been worrying about how I would manage with a small child, but it really seemed as Miss Pinkerton had said, that the stewards would take care of everything. Feeling more content I went back to gather Liam from the cot and carried him up on deck. As I came out into the fresh air I got a shock. We were already underway. The tall buildings of New York were now behind us and there on our left we were drawing level with the Statue of Liberty, her green robes glowing in the late afternoon sunlight and her torch flashing.

  “Look, darling,” I said, pointing at her as many other travelers were doing. “Look at the lady.” Liam grabbed at the railing, much more interested in the ocean below us. I held onto him tightly. “No, you are not going to get down,” I said firmly. And I laughed. I felt a little of the tension slipping away as the New York skyline receded in the distance. In spite of everything—the loss of my house, my possessions, my sweet little servant girl—I could smile again. I was going to Paris, to my dearest friends. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right.

  Eight

  We stayed up on deck until La Lorraine passed the last spit of land and I felt the swell of open ocean. America was now irrevocably behind me and France lay ahead. Liam had fallen asleep against my shoulder. I toured the portions of the ship reserved for second-class passengers, including a pleasant dining room with white-clothed tables and a piano lounge with comfortable armchairs, sofas, and potted palms. I inquired about food for my baby and was told that the kitchen would prepare pureed vegetables and custards with pleasure and that the steward would keep an eye on my child if I wanted to dine unencumbered. Thus relieved on that point I went down to my cabin to change for dinner.

  Miss Pinkerton was there, finishing her own toilet by sticking a large number of hairpins into her bun. She spun around with a guilty expression on her face as I entered, making me think that she had probably been through my things. Good luck to her. There was nothing to discover.

  “I was admiring your gowns, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said. “Such a fine quality of fabric. You clearly have a good dressmaker, or are they made in France?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “These gowns were actually given to me by a friend who had grown tired of them. Her husband spoils her.”

  “Most certainly,” she replied with a sniff. “I wondered where you were. I do hope you weren’t staying away out of sensibility toward me. I do want you to feel that this cabin is yours as much as mine.”

  “I was up on deck, watching the ship sail past the Statue of Liberty,” I said, “and after that I did a tour of our part of the ship.”

  “So did my friends and I,” she said. “All quite satisfactory, don’t you think? The lounge looks most inviting. I shall look forward to reading and writing at one of those small tables in the window. Or perhaps it will be warm enough to sit outside in a deck chair, at least until we sail into northern climes. I gather we sail quite far north up the American coast and there is always a danger of icebergs. Quite exciting, don’t you think? I have always wanted to see one.”

  “From a distance, I hope,” I said and she laughed. “A good sense of humor. I like that, Mrs. Sullivan. Tell me, are you going to France or continuing your journey to another destination?”

  “I’m going to stay with friends in Paris,” I said. “One of them is a painter and they have been in Paris for the past few months.”

  “A painter. How exciting. Might one have heard of his work? Perhaps my friend Miss Hetherington is familiar with him.”

  “This painter is a woman,” I said, “and her work is not yet well-known. She is hoping to learn from the great artists in Paris. In fact she has had an introduction to Reynold Bryce. Have you heard of him?”

  “Reynold Bryce? Naturally I know of him.” She stuck a final
hairpin into the bun and closed the closet door. “In fact I attended a reception at an art gallery in Boston once, when he still resided and painted in our country. I must say I far preferred his earlier work. This modern style with lots of daubs and blobs leaves me cold. But Miss Hetherington says we must be open-minded and find the beauty in every piece of art. She is a good Christian woman, Miss Hetherington, and quite a fine painter herself.”

  I put the sleeping Liam into the crib and sat patiently on my bunk because there was not enough room for two of us to access the closet at the same time.

  “Shall you be staying long in Paris?” Miss Pinkerton asked.

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying,” I said.

  “Your husband must be a most understanding and generous man to allow you to travel without him. Or is he to join you in Paris?”

  “I’m afraid not. He has to work.”

  “What is his profession?”

  I decided that Miss Pinkerton was the type of nosy spinster who would spread any information around the whole ship. “He is employed by the city,” I said cautiously.

  “In what kind of capacity?”

  “Just a glorified clerk in city government,” I said.

  “Hardly a mere clerk if he can afford to send his wife and child to Paris.” She gave me a knowing stare. “Not a cheap undertaking. I was horrified when I found out how much a transatlantic passage would cost. I recently inherited a little money from my mother, but it has to last me for the rest of my life. Still, I could not resist when Miss Hetherington invited me to travel with them on this cultural tour.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Who could turn down a chance to see the sights of Europe? Now might I be allowed to find something to wear for dinner?”

  She tittered. “Oh, how silly of me. It is a trifle—snug—shall we say. And how fortunate that we are both slender. I shall go and see how my friends are faring and leave you to get ready. And of course you are welcome to join my friends and me at dinner, unless you have already sought out other dinner companions?”