Collis led his pony up to a scrubby tree and tied it up. He took Hopeful, too, and tied her up.
‘I don’t think that kind of experience makes a man wiser, or more interesting,’ he said, taking a cheroot. ‘I don’t think it makes ladies any more charming, either. All the harlots and the women drinkers that I’ve come across are as noodle-headed as anyone you could wish to meet. I’m beginning to think that I’ve been as noodle-headed as the rest of them, because I never got anything out of gambling and whoring and drinking but empty pockets and a sore head.’
‘Nothing at all?’
Alice brought her grey over, and Collis tethered it for her. Delphine told her, with a frown, ‘Collis says he didn’t get anything out of his experiences with strumpets at all but a sore head.’
Alice raised an eyebrow. ‘Delphine is fascinated by iniquity at the moment. She’s just dying to do something wicked.’
‘It’s not that at all,’ protested Delphine. ‘I simply want to find out what being iniquitous is like – whether it broadens one’s outlook on life.’
Collis struck a light and sucked at his cheroot. For some reason he thought of his father, weary and defeated by ill luck. He said quietly, ‘I believe that it’s probably all a matter of purpose. I wouldn’t have said that a week ago, but my mind has been changed since then. To drink and gamble and whore because you have no other way of filling the hours of your day – well, that’s not broadening at all. You live your life in a kind of repetitive dream, and before you know where you are, you’re older than you ever imagined you could be, with nothing more to show for all those hours of carousing but a bad liver and a social disease.’
He paused awhile, then added, ‘It seems to me that I’ve lived my life without much purpose, and that it’s high time I had one.’
Alice looked at him pointedly. ‘Does that mean you’re looking for love?’
Delphine’s face was worried for a moment, but then she smiled and clapped her hands. ‘Do say yes! Do say that you’re looking for love!’
‘This is all getting too serious,’ said Collis tenderly. ‘It truly is. Let’s ride down to the De Vere Restaurant and take some tea.’
‘Shame,’ protested Delphine. ‘You haven’t answered our question.’
‘But I shall.’ Collis grinned. ‘All in good time.’
‘I don’t know why you’re beating around the bush so much,’ Alice said airily. ‘I do believe that you’re both quite taken with each other.’
Collis looked at her, surprised. But she simply shrugged and said, ‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, sir, but it’s plain to see from a mile and a half away.’
Delphine lowered her eyelashes for a moment, but then she looked up at Collis and gave a small, suppressed giggle. ‘You’ve embarrassed him now, Alice,’ she said. ‘He’s been embarrassed enough for one day, with all my forward conversation.’
Collis, quite tickled, blew out a stream of smoke. ‘I’m not embarrassed. I’m intrigued, I’ll admit. I’ve heard of the bold new etiquette, but I’ve never yet come across it in a lady. I’ve heard of women’s rights, as well, but I’ve never yet met a lady who has decided to confer them on herself, regardless of what her friends and her family may think. I’ve even heard of love at first sight. But I’ve never yet been introduced to anyone who has carried me away so completely with her grace, and her spirit, and her fascinating manner, all in the space of a single hour.’
Delphine was blushing now, and Alice, pleased, was holding her hand.
Alice reached into her sleeve for a small lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘It’s so wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’ve always been a believer in kindred spirits. I’m sure you two can make each other very happy.’
Collis stepped forward and took Delphine in his arms. Her eyelashes were glistening, and her lips were trembling just a little. ‘You and your forward talk,’ he said. ‘You and your anatomy!’
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘I was so afraid that you were going to feel offended if I talked that way. But I had to know if you were a real man or not. I couldn’t have put up with another of Mama’s mummified bankers. You’ve been so understanding, Collis. You’re the first man who has ever spoken to me as a woman, as well as a lady.’
Without prompting this time, Collis kissed her. Her lips were soft and moist, and the feel of them stirred him as no other woman’s lips ever had. It was a long time, whole seconds, before he opened his eyes, and saw Delphine’s hazel eyes so close that he could scarcely focus, and the tears that ran freely down her cheeks. She held him tight for a while, weeping with the delight of knowing him and kissing him; and then she was able to regain herself and stand straight, and borrow Alice’s handkerchief.
‘I think this is a very special day,’ said Alice.
‘I think we ought to go take tea,’ said Collis.
He untethered the horses and helped Delphine and Alice mount up. They rode back around the edge of the lake and up the sloping path that took them out of the park by the square white-painted houses at the top of Sixth and Seventh Avenues. It was almost three o’clock now, and a veil of high clouds had passed over the sun, so that the air was closer and dustier. They trotted at a fast pace westward to the low farm building at the junction of Broadway and Eighth Avenue, and then they turned downtown and galloped for a while along the hard-baked mud surface of Broadway, overtaking farm carts and stagecoaches.
At last, by Thirty-fourth Street, they slowed down and rode quietly together as if they had been friends all their lives, with no need of conversation. Delphine turned to Collis from time to time and smiled at him, and Alice smiled benignly at them both.
‘I’ve always preferred playing Cupid to playing chaperone,’ she said as they arrived at De Vere’s and a boy came out to take their horses.
Collis took Alice’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He only wished that he could feel as certain about his future with Delphine as she did. Maybe her father could help. But, on the other hand, maybe he couldn’t; and maybe all of this day, with its flirtation and its kisses and its misty sunshine, would be the most sadly wasted day he had ever spent.
Senator William Stride was standing by the window of the smoking-room of the Astor Place Hotel, his deeply carved features illuminated only by the red light of the setting sun, reflected from the windows of the buildings across the street. He was a tall, stooping man, with a nose like an eagle’s beak, and sidewhiskers of tight silver curls. His collars were always higher and stiffer than anyone else’s, and his tailcoats were always darker and more severe. In the Senate he was nicknamed Lucifer, although it wasn’t always said unkindly. He might have been a slave-owner, but he was cultured and humane, and his spontaneous contributions to worthy causes were famous. It was considered unwise to cross him, that was all, because when he was crossed he would make life hell.
Collis walked across the smoking-room, between the shiny leather chairs, and held out his hand.
‘Senator? I’m Collis Edmonds. I’m pleased to meet you.’
The Senator turned, his hands still clasped behind his back, and lifted a curly grey eyebrow. ‘Mr Edmonds? Ah, yes. Alice told me you might be coming.’
He reached out a large, dry hand, as wide as a hoe, and shook hands. ‘Won’t you sit down? This isn’t really my notion of a private meeting place, but I’m afraid I’ve been very pushed for time. I had a meeting this afternoon with the board of the Erie Railroad, and it went on two hours and ten minutes longer than I had hoped.’
Collis sat in one of the club armchairs, and Senator Stride sat opposite him, his long legs stretched out across the Persian rug and his ankles crossed. His arms seemed to be longer still, and it appeared to Collis that a great deal of complicated folding and bending was required before they were neatly arranged across the Senator’s chest.
It was so dark in the smoking-room now, despite the beads of light from the gas-jets, that Senator Stride’s face was deep in shadow, and all Collis could see was the tip of his beak and hi
s sidewhiskers. Out of this shadow spoke a voice that was deep and educated and unmistakably Southern, a drawl that was almost sinister in the way it coaxed five vowels out of words that had only two, and lingered on every consonant until it had been thoroughly tongued.
‘I understand from Alice that you’ve been paying court to Delphine Spooner,’ said Senator Stride. He pronounced ‘court’ as ‘cow-ought’.
‘That’s true, sir. In a modest way. We’ve known each other only a very little time.’
‘Alice says you’re both as keen as chili peppers.’
‘Alice is exaggerating a little, sir. But she’s not too far wrong. I am very fond of Delphine, and I do believe that my feelings are returned.’
The shadowy head nodded. ‘I’ve known the Spooners for a great number of years, and they’re fine people. I was best man at their wedding, did you know that? And I’m Delphine’s godfather, too.’
‘Yes. Alice told me. They’re a very pleasant family.’
A waiter came in with a tray, his white shirt front oddly luminous in the gloom of the smoking-room.
‘Would you care for a drink?’ asked the Senator.
‘A whisky, with a splash of water.’
‘And bring me a glass of fresh lime juice,’ said Senator Stride. ‘Just a small one.’ Then he turned back to Collis and added, ‘I’m a temperance man, myself. I don’t much hold with liquor. But don’t let that put you off yours.’
‘No, sir,’ said Collis uneasily, changing his position in his slippery leather chair. He suddenly began to feel that he might have made a mistake in coming to Senator Stride, and apart from that, his collar seemed distinctly too tight, and his shoes pinched. It was the fashion this year for young men to wear shoes made of what Life Illustrated called ‘astoundingly little sections of patent leather’, and in front of the gaunt, plain Senator, with his shoes as big as coal-boxes, Collis felt decidedly foppish.
‘Your father’s Makepeace Edmonds, isn’t he, from I. P. Woolmer’s Bank?’ asked Senator Stride.
‘Er – yes, sir.’
‘A man who understands the South and her problems, if I remember.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A view that Alice tells me you don’t personally share.’
Collis took a deep breath. ‘No, sir. Not entirely.’
‘Are you a Black Republican, Mr Edmonds? A free-soil man?’
Collis sat up straighter. ‘Sir, I didn’t really come to meet you to discuss my politics. What I feel about the South and slavery are not really relevant. I’m still young, anyway, and I expect I’ll change my mind when I’m as old and wise as you.’
‘Young? At twenty-five? I was in Congress when I was your age, and I haven’t changed my mind one whit since. Not about anything.’
Collis tried to smile, and was surprised by how difficult it was. ‘I’m sure you haven’t, sir. But then you’re a professional politician, and I’m nothing more than one of four million voters. We look to you to remain constant, while you look to us to change our minds.’
Senator Stride sat in silence for a while, digesting with disinterest, if not actual displeasure, what Collis had said.
‘Well,’ he announced, after a few moments, ‘I guess you have a way with words, if nothing else.’
‘I came to ask you a financial favour, as a matter of fact.’
‘You want to borrow money?’ inquired the Senator, with a dry, incredulous sniff. ‘With a bank president for a father?’
‘I don’t want it for myself, sir.’
‘Then what? Are you canvassing on behalf of one of these dim-witted gold speculations? I can assure you, Mr Edmonds, that my money is never thrown away on frivolities.’
‘I wouldn’t call this a frivolity, sir. I. P. Woolmer’s Bank is in deep trouble, and they need someone to bail them out.’
There was another pause, while the Senator took stock of what he had just heard. He unfolded one arm and let it hang down beside his chair, his veiny hand swinging just an inch from the carpeted floor. Collis kept his eyes on the Senator’s shadowed face.
‘They’re a sound bank,’ said the Senator. ‘Real sound. Why should they be in trouble?’
‘There’s been some speculation.’
‘I see. And what do they need?’
‘They don’t need cash. They just need underwriting for two million dollars until they get themselves back on their keel again.’
‘Two million dollars?’
Collis nodded.
Senator Stride twiddled with his whiskers.
‘Why did they send you?’ asked the Senator, after yet another lengthy pause. ‘Why didn’t your father approach me himself, or Harry Benedict?’
‘They didn’t send me.’
‘Ah-hah. Then it all becomes clearer. It was your father who decided to speculate. Your father who’s gotten his fingers burned. He’s told you, but he hasn’t told anyone else. He wants two million dollars to shore up the bank while he puts his silly mistakes right.’
Collis bit at his thumbnail. ‘If you want to put it that way.’
‘It’s not how I care to put it that’s important, Mr Edmonds. It’s the way that it is.’
‘Well, all right. That’s the way it is.’
The waiter came in with their drinks. He set the Senator’s lime juice on a dark polished mahogany side table, and then asked Collis if he would mind propping his whisky glass on the arm of his chair. Before he left, he went across to the gas brackets and turned up the gas, so that for the first time Collis could see the Senator’s deep-set, glittering eyes. The sight of them didn’t make him feel any more comfortable.
‘What nature of speculations did your father invest in?’ asked Senator Stride.
Collis sipped his whisky. ‘Railroads, gold. A few commodities.’
‘How do I know, if I agreed to underwrite him, that I wouldn’t be throwing good money after bad?’
‘Because of his reputation, sir. This is the first time he’s ever attempted risky speculations. It’ll be the last time, too. He did it for personal reasons, because of personal pressures, but he understands now that the only criteria in banking must be security and steady growth. He’s made a mistake, admittedly. But he’s one of the finest bankers in Wall Street, and your money’s as safe in his hands as it is in the deepest vault in the whole country.’
Senator Stride took a drink of his lime juice and pursed his lips against its sourness. ‘That’s a very fine recommendation, Mr Edmonds. Regrettably, it comes from a source that I have to describe as inordinately biased.’
‘It’s true, all the same. You know that it is.’
‘All right, supposing it is true. If I were to risk two million dollars of my own money by underwriting your father’s debts at the bank, what would be in it for me?’
‘A percentage.’
‘Of course, a percentage. But how much percentage? And what guarantee would I have that it would ever be paid?’
‘Six per cent per annum. And my word on it.’
‘Are you an officer of the bank? An accredited representative?’
‘No. But I will give you a written indemnity, once you agree to secure the deficit.’
Senator Stride watched Collis for a while, his wide hands steepled in front of his mouth, blowing thoughtfully between his fingers.
‘Your father’s on the edge of bankruptcy, is he not?’
‘Not personally. Of course not.’
‘Then why are you so worried? If it was only a bank deficit, and not a personal deficit, you wouldn’t even care. Did your father invest his own money in these worthless speculations?’
‘A little.’
‘Only a little? You’re making a very impassioned plea for only a little.’
‘I want to help my father, that’s all.’
‘What a solicitous son you are. But what are the board members of I. P. Woolmer’s going to think when they find out? They’re bound to, you know.’
Collis nodded. ‘Father was g
oing to talk to them on Friday, but he decided to postpone it for a week. He guessed he’d stand more chance of weathering it out if he’d already arranged for the losses to be covered.’
‘What happens if he fails?’
‘Then they’ll probably request his resignation.’
‘That won’t be much of a hardship. He’s due for retirement soon.’
Collis sighed. ‘Very well. He’s lost a great deal of his own money, too. If he can’t sort this out by the board meeting on Thursday, he’ll be almost destitute.’
Senator Stride nodded. ‘I thought as much. The family rallies around only when their own comfort is threatened.’
‘You don’t have to be unpleasant about it.’
‘Why not? Poverty is a very unpleasant fact of life. I hope you’re well prepared for it.’
Collis dropped his gaze. He was beginning to understand why they called Senator Stride after the devil. He had a way of prodding and prodding at you until you fell over the precipice of your own sins and omissions. Nevertheless, he persisted.
‘Will you consider helping? Even if you didn’t underwrite the whole amount yourself, I’m sure I could find others to join you. The most important thing is discretion. If the word gets out that I. P. Woolmer’s has lost two million dollars of investors’ money on a cheapjack railroad speculation – well, you can imagine what would follow.’
‘I most assuredly can imagine, Mr Edmonds. I saw the Bank of Charleston go down like a brick in ’37, taking a reasonable amount of my money along with it. I wouldn’t let that occur a second time.’
‘Well, then?’
Senator Stride finished his lime juice. When he had done so, he stood up and walked back across to the window. He stared at his own saturnine reflection for a long time before he answered.
‘I’m going to have to consider this most carefully, Mr Edmonds. I’m going to have to think over the good points of it and the bad points of it.’
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