Leaving the wooden sidewalk, she was about to enter through the gate when a man whistled behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat. Hoping it might be her cousin, she glanced over her shoulder. Darn! It was just an older boy with a spirited gait. She watched him slide a stick along the black iron pickets of their fence as so many children did on their way down the sidewalk. It drove her father into a state of indignation each time he heard the hollow clanging, but he never did anything to stop them. Would he be concerned about it tonight with all he had to do before his trip?
Reaching the top of the stairs, she walked past her parents’ room. They had resumed packing, but tension from the father and son argument still hung in the air. Lifting her head, her mother asked, “How is your aunt June?” Jessica paused in the threshold with a swell of sadness. The thought of her father so far away upset her, and now Will had angered him.
“Oh, fine. She wants you to pen a new recipe for her.” Excusing herself, she went to her room. Once inside with the door closed, she climbed onto the bed, hiking up her skirt and crossing her legs. She stared at the pink-flowered wall in front of her, then plopped backwards onto her bed. Placing a hand over her stomach, she gently rubbed her belly, but nothing could soothe the turmoil in her gut. The very thought of Jacob made her nauseous. Her heart and mind were in a tug-of-war. Knowing it was unorthodox to fall in love with her cousin didn’t stop the tingle in her body that came from thinking about his handsome face, his full lips, and his manly hands, not to mention his polite ways and intellect. He was known for helping the less fortunate in the part of the city she was forbidden to ride past. His manners and respect for the elderly had old Mrs. Prutt and her sister, Miss May, singing his praise whenever they met up with the family. On their vigorous rides through the expansive meadows off of Blake Street, she felt free to indulge in the feeling of freedom and the pretense of their togetherness. Last Sunday her horse had come up lame just as they were heading back to the Stanford stables, leaving her no choice but to ride with Jacob. Both of them laughed as she squeezed in behind him, then she held on tight. Now, only moments ago, the way he’d touched her arm. “Oh!” Marred by the impossibility of it all, her daydreams withered, yet she couldn’t get him out of her heart and mind.
~
“Your father is finally packed,” her mother announced. “Let’s have a nice meal and give him a good send-off tomorrow.” Then scowling she asked, “Where is that brother of yours?”
Jessica knew exactly where he could be found. The family pretended he was an upstanding young man, the son of a highly successful attorney. Yet it was hardly a secret where he spent his time and money. The whispers coming from the gilded society ladies when she passed them in the park or at the theatre were unmistakeable. The hushed tones of sympathy were aimed at her. With her chin up high, she would walk through the cloud of pity, but secretly her pride was wounded. Sometimes she thought of what they would say about her if they truly knew what she carried in her heart–the love for a cousin, the son of her mother’s brother, a partner in the well-established law firm of Messing and Stanford. That would truly give them something to cluck about.
Musing at the worldliness of such a scandal, she ate her buttered boiled potatoes. The family would never hold up under such shunning from society, and Jacob would never allow it. Yet another reason she loved him. Her brother had already put her at risk for becoming an old maid. The high morals of her parents’ society would not tolerate an alliance with a family whose member was a chronic gambler. Her life was dictated by others in a circle of should and should-nots with little in between.
Laying his knife on the side of his plate, her father took a bite of pork smothered in gravy. She felt his eyes bearing down on her. “What is it, Father?” Her parents exchanged a look of understanding.
“Jessica.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on the side of his plate. “You may know that my purpose for this voyage is two-fold. Besides visiting my friend Charles Moore and his family, I wish to invite his son, Frederick, to come back with me. In fact, it’s already been arranged.”
With a furrowed brow, Jessica looked at her father with curiosity. This had been common knowledge since his decision to take the steamer to Liverpool. She waited for more. He placed his napkin back on his lap, took another piece of meat, and looked up at her mother.
“My dear, what your father is trying to say is that he considers Mr. Moore’s son an asset to Messing and Stanford as well as to our little family.”
Her father swallowed and took up where her mother left off. “An alliance with the Moore family is important to us. We would like you to consider Charles’s son Frederick as a friend. More than a friend. A suitor.”
Relieved she had not continued to eat, for she would have surely choked on her food, Jessica turned to her mother in a panic. “A suitor?”
“It’s just a thought, my dear, nothing more. Let’s see how it goes.”
“A thought worth considering,” her father stated. “He is, after all, an English gentleman of good breeding and astuteness. A fine Liverpool attorney.”
Jessica looked back and forth at her parents. “I don’t want to marry, not now. I thought I had explained myself.”
“Marriage? Who spoke of marriage?” her mother chirped. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Dabbing at her lips with her napkin, she laid it back in her lap and continued to eat. Her father continued eating his meal. They had said their piece and there was nothing more to discuss. Jessica felt adrift. Certainly, her parents weren’t arranging a marriage for her. Was this their plan all along? Losing her appetite, she pushed away her plate. Even Winnie’s maple syrup dumplings with cream couldn’t bring it back.
After dinner, Jessica took up her needlework in the smaller parlor. Embroidery was nothing like painting—the tedious in and out of the needle was too slow for her hands and mind. She often poked her finger, and it added to her dislike of the practice. Her mother, who was already seated in the gray linen armchair next to the fireplace, worked her knitting needles. She stopped and placed the half-knitted sweater on her lap.
“Jessica, it’s only a suggestion. Your father means well. The news from your uncle Burt of his retirement came as a shock to him. I feel he may be trying to tie up too many loose ends with this trip.”
“I’m a loose end?” She quietly threaded the blue crewel wool through the taut fabric.
Her mother picked up her knitting. “Why do you twist his intentions, our intentions? You will marry soon, and we only desire the best possible situation.”
“Yes, Mother.” The best situation is to allow Jacob and me to live our lives together. To allow me to take art classes in Philadelphia. The room felt stuffy, and she needed to be alone with her thoughts. She rose from the settee. “I think I’ll go upstairs now. I wish to be fresh for our farewell to Father tomorrow.”
With a kiss on her mother’s cheek, she turned for the hallway. “I wish your brother had half a mind to do the same,” she heard her mother mumble.
How daring it would be to yank Will out of the haughty place she knew he had gone to. She took each step up to the second floor with a grin as she imagined the look on his face if she performed such an unspeakable act. Then she thought of Jacob alongside her brother. She clutched the banister and stomped up the remaining stairs. How could Jacob stoop so low?
Sitting at her desk where her art supplies were waiting, she studied the drawing before her. A tin of water stood at the ready. This recent drawing of a robin perched on a flowered branch was ready for painting. She swirled her brush in the water and applied just enough to the squares of color to create a reddish orange puddle in the shallow wells of her palette. The brush touched the textured paper, and she washed the vibrant color across the robin’s breast. Controlling the water content, she drew back and dabbed the excess on a towel. It was one of the more challenging parts of painting in this medium. The last piece she did ended up a soggy mess, the colors running together li
ke mud. She would be more mindful this time. Relaxing her shoulders, she tried to get lost in her art, yet the usually pleasant experience was dampened. How could her father let a strange man court her?
Chapter Three
Entering the front hall of the Palace Hotel, Jacob paused to look up. Dozens of his reflections danced across inlaid mirrors bordered in gold leaf that lined the high domed ceiling. The dark, wood-paneled walls and large crystal chandelier gave the small entrance where Adele Harper greeted all her guests a grand feel.
However, this evening, Adele was absent from the front desk, and there were no patrons loitering on the purple, velvet ottomans and settees. He slid his lean body behind a heavy, ornate door at the far end of the lobby that stood slightly ajar. He looked around the large, square, windowless room that was hazy with cigar smoke and held the sharp odor of unwashed bodies and alcohol. The painted ladies of the Palace, wearing frilly, lace dresses, were mingling with the men seated at the card tables. Some of them stood close behind their chosen players, hoping to enrich their own pockets with the men’s winnings. The low hum of male voices, mixed with the soft tones of the women, lent a musical note to the room. And there was Will at the far end, waving him over.
He made his way through the dozen or so round card tables. Once at Will’s table he noticed the pile of bills and coins in front of him. Jacob smirked at his cousin. “That’s mostly mine, you know.” It was a reminder to Will of the many loans he had advanced him in this very room. He grabbed a stool nearby. His cousin’s light-brown hair was slicked back and caught the light of the candelabra above their heads. Jacob smiled to himself at the thin golden mustache Will now sported to make him look older than his twenty-three years.
As the game progressed, Jacob witnessed Will’s luck begin to slide. Finally, he stood to leave, whispering into his cousin’s ear, “You’ve only lost my half. Why not call it a night?”
Will grabbed his arm. “Hey, you’re my good luck charm.”
Shaking off his cousin’s grip, Jacob reluctantly returned to his seat. One of the ladies approached Jacob and was about to sit on his lap but he waved her on.
Will turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Are you getting that picky?”
“Play your cards and never mind about me.”
Miss Harper appeared at their table. “You too high and mighty for one of my girls, Jacob? By the way, I didn’t see you come in. Where’s your dues?”
Pulling a silver coin from his pocket, Jacob placed it into her waiting hand.
“Why you even come here, we can’t figure. But you sure have the money and we sure have your entertainment, so if you show up, plan on being respectful.”
“Maybe later, Miss Harper.” He patted his shirt pocket, then reached in for a rolled cigarette and match.
“Tish,” Adele Harper scoffed as she slid the coin down the bodice of her dress and turned away.
Lighting a cigarette, then blowing out the first inhale, Jacob wondered at his lack of desire for the Palace ladies or even for the place itself. Deep in his heart he knew, but he didn’t want to think about it. He cursed to himself and gave a grunt.
Will tilted his head. “Shh, I almost got this guy beat.” His whisper came out of the corner of his mouth. Jacob dismissed him with a curt wave of his hand.
Within the hour, Will had lost all but a few coins. He tipped back on his chair with a curse. The winner stood up and collected the soft bills and mound of coins. He touched the brim of his hat to Will, then bent down to Jacob. “Your cousin is a lousy cheater. He best watch his back. I’ll bring my gun with me next time and a few of my friends.”
Jerking away from the words hissed into his ear, Jacob gave a tug on his cigarette and let out the smoke as the man straightened his vest and walked out of the room.
Will spat as he slapped his measly winnings across the table.
The greasy supper Jacob had eaten earlier at the Palace’s restaurant wasn’t settling right. It wasn’t because his cousin had been threatened–again. No, it was something else. His mind whispered her name and he quickly dismissed it. Coughing to release the tension in his chest, he poked out his cigarette and stood. Jessica was not going to impede on his thoughts again, not in this place. The ache went from his stomach to his head, and he needed fresh air.
As the cousins walked along Washington Street to their family’s respective homes, Jacob felt a sense of urgency in his belly. Again, he dismissed it. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag then handed it over to his cousin. “Geez, Will, are you sure you want to make a living at this?” Jacob released the smoke from his lungs. “Think twice before you get yourself killed.”
“Ah, Saul’s a jackass. I’ll beat him next time.” Will handed the cigarette back to Jacob and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Jacob looked away with disgust. Who had Will become?
Who had he become for that matter? Tossing the cigarette in front of him, he stepped on it as he walked. “I’m not making a living out of it anyway,” Will added.
“Aren’t you? Give up that place.” He stopped, forcing Will to turn around.
“What in God’s name is wrong with you tonight, Jake? No one had to twist your arm to be there.”
“Why are you wasting your money?”
“I’ve got the skill, that’s all.” Will continued walking. “Besides, tonight was going to be different. My win was going to get me on a ship.”
“A deckhand? Where?”
“I heard that one of the last whalers is taking off soon from New Bedford, Massachusetts.”
Jacob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Do you have any idea what you’d be getting yourself into?” He’d read about the whaling ships and the terrible conditions for the men who worked on them. Calming himself, he gave Will an impish grin and raised eyebrow. “I’ve got something better in mind, Cousin. I need a partner …”
“No, Jake, I’m not working for Hank.” He kicked up dirt from the road. “I like the freedom I have working on boats by the river even if it’s not the most upstanding profession. Saddles and spurs are not my idea of progress.”
Jacob felt Will’s jab. He knew his cousin had always placed higher expectations on him than Will did on himself. After a year at Yale Law School, Jacob had decided the law was not his calling and working with his hands suited him better. It was a hard choice, and he’d known it would hurt his father. He and Will had been on track to take over Messing and Stanford law firm, yet since he was a child, Jacob had had no desire for the practice. Yearning for adventure, he wanted to see the world or at least this great expanse of country he lived in. There had been lengthy discussions about his future with his father Burt. Finally, he was allowed to put his academic life on hold, giving him one year to explore his desires. Now two had passed. Will had also given Yale a stab, but he’d been expelled for gambling before he could quit. He was turned down by other colleges once they got wind of his escapades. Much to his father’s embarrassment and shame, Will had accepted a job on the docks as a shipwright’s helper.
“I’m not talking about Hank. I’ve got something better in mind.” He had found other employment besides working at The Tack and Saddle Company–one with cash rewards and just enough adventure to satisfy his lust for a life much different than his father’s.
Chapter Four
After many days on the ocean, Thomas Messing welcomed the solid ground beneath his feet, his first steps on English soil. The harbor was filled with all sorts of boats and ships overflowing with commerce, and the docks bustled with travelers and workers. He looked around for his connection and soon spotted a thin young man underdressed for the windy, and cool spring air. He held up a sign reading, “Mr. T. Messing.” Thomas approached the youth.
“I’m Mr. Messing.”
In a thick Irish accent, the boy replied, “Right, Mr. Messing. You follow me then.”
Putting his handkerchief to his nose, Thomas made his way through the smells of rotting fish, brined pickles, and a
nimal dung. He wove through the crowd of humanity, trying to keep up with the youth. Three small boys followed behind, carrying his trunks. He passed finely dressed women with fluttering fans and capable looking men shouting instructions to servants carrying trunks of varying sizes. Commoners sold all types of wares and services, from women extending parcels of food to the shoeshiner claiming his expertise. Thomas had no time for charity and turned away from a legless man with a cup who sat on the wet pier and the shabby children begging for food.
The wind picked at his coat, and he gathered his collar and continued to follow the young man. Finally, he stopped in front of a carriage parked on a street filled with carts, carriages and buses, horses and people.
The driver quickly loaded the back of the coach. Thomas watched the young boys waiting with anticipation on their dirty little faces. The driver threw them each a coin and they ran back to the docks. Before Thomas entered the coach, he searched his waistcoat for a coin and handed it to his guide.
“Thank you kindly, sir,” said the young man, then ran off to follow the others.
Thomas next addressed the driver who was now seated at the reins. “I assume you know where to take me.”
The driver nodded.
Satisfied, Thomas put one foot on the iron step and entered the coach. Jostled about as the horse drew the carriage down the cobbled road, he peered past the black, velvet curtain at the brick buildings crowned by smokestacks. The sky was overcast, and the gray left him feeling lonely. There was little vegetation and so many people to get through. A woman knocked at the carriage door begging for money. Thomas’s patience was tested. Irritated, he snapped the curtain shut.
After a while, the noise had diminished. Drawing back the curtain, he saw that the landscape had changed, and to his relief, there were trees and shrubs and green pastures. He lost count of the parish churches along the way.
The carriage swayed and woke Thomas from his dozing. It traveled down a narrow, tree-lined road and then into a courtyard with a large stone water fountain in the middle. The four-story house resembled a small castle. Statuesque topiaries stood on either side of an impressively carved wooden door. Green vines climbed up the gray brick, and bushes of azaleas in full bloom sat under tall windows. The steps leading to the entrance were wide and grand, reflecting the soft rays of light breaking from the gloomy sky. Thomas felt he had stepped into a fairy tale. He was handed off by the footman, then to the doorman, and finally to Jason, the butler.
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