A Question of Class (8 page)

The dressmaker was a stooped man who squinted out of one eye. He nodded at Benjamin, went into the back of his shop and brought out a lilac dress with gold trim. The frock seemed awfully flimsy.

Mrs. Delcour disappeared for a moment, and then came back out and stood on the small stool in front of a full-length mirror. She was stunning. The dress barely covered her breasts and fell gracefully down to the floor in a long column of satin, clinging gently to her hips. The sleeves ended at the edge of her shoulders and were lined in a gold trim that matched the highlights of her hair. Benjamin could just make out the outline of her hips and legs where the material draped around her body. He saw her watching him in the mirror, and hoped the raw longing wasn’t apparent in his eyes.

The dressmaker got down on his knees and began tacking up the hem. He glanced up, annoyed, at the sound of the shop door opening.

Two women entered the small atelier. The older one’s mouth dropped open as soon as she spotted Mrs. Delcour.

“Well look who it is.” Her syrupy tone made Benjamin’s skin crawl.

“Why, Mrs. Wetmore, how lovely to see you again,” said Mrs. Delcour.

Mrs. Wetmore was wearing a dark green spencer that barely contained her bulk, and carried a matching parasol she repeatedly tapped on the floor for emphasis. Benjamin exchanged quick glances with Mrs. Delcour, remembering the story Theodosia Higbee had told him the day before.

“I thought you were up in the country,” said Mrs. Wetmore. “What an unexpected surprise.”

“Yes, we were. But there was too much going on here in New York to miss.”

“I see. So we will be seeing you around town again? I feel as if it’s been ages.”

“Far too long.” Mrs. Delcour smiled prettily. “But I wouldn’t have missed the Carpenter’s ball for anything. As you can imagine.”

The dressmaker stood back, admiring his handiwork, and offered his hand to help her off the stool. He nodded in Mrs. Wetmore’s direction and then retreated to the back of the shop.

“I can imagine you wouldn’t want to miss the ball, my dear,” said Mrs. Wetmore, banging the tip of the parasol on the floor. “Yet I hear Mr. Delcour is away on business.”

“He is, but luckily Mr. Thomas, Mr. Delcour’s brother-in-law, is here to accompany me.” She waved in Benjamin’s general direction.

“I see,” replied Mrs. Wetmore. “And do you plan on going to dinner at the Astors’ this weekend? I hear it’s going to be divine.”

Mrs. Delcour’s cheeks grew pink, matching the blush of the dress.

“Oh I am sorry, you must not have gotten an invitation and here I am speaking out of order. I’m sure you’ll be receiving it any minute. Or perhaps I have the date wrong.” Mrs. Wetmore, her companion smirking beside her, was taunting the poor girl. The other woman stifled a laugh.

“Perhaps.” Mrs. Delcour’s voice was small.

“But what a lovely dress,” said Mrs. Wetmore.

“Thank you.” She plucked the material with her hands, like a child.

“Why don’t you change out of it, Mrs. Delcour?” asked Benjamin. “We must be off to your next appointment.”

 
“Thank you, Mr. Thomas.” She smoothed the dress and seemed to be collecting herself. “I do hope the dress will be finished in time for the ball.”

“How is it unfinished, my dear girl?” asked Mrs. Wetmore. “It seems quite complete to me.”

“Oh no. You see, the dressmaker is adding a wide matching sash around the waist.” She demonstrated with her hands.

“But won’t doing so ruin the line?” She eyed her companion, seeking reassurance.

“Oh no. When I was in France, Josephine wore sashes at every ball we attended. And before long all of the ladies did so as well.”

“You mean Josephine Bonaparte, Napoleon’s wife?” stammered Mrs. Wetmore.

Mrs. Delcour laughed. “Of course. Who else?”

She gave Benjamin a triumphant glance and left to change out of her dress. Benjamin waited as the dressmaker brought out Mrs. Wetmore’s dress, and listened as she demanded he make a wide sash to go with it, and have it ready by tomorrow morning.

Benjamin assumed Mrs. Delcour was waiting in the back for the ladies to leave, but when she didn’t emerge from the dressing room after they’d scuttled out the door, he became worried. He swore under his breath. He imagined her weeping on the floor at the snub she’d received. Benjamin called out for her, but there was no answer. The dressmaker went into the back of the store, where the dressing rooms were located, and returned with his hands turned upward.

“She’s gone, Mr. Thomas,” he said, looking at him quizzically. “Mrs. Delcour appears to have left out the back door.”

* * * *

Catherine was breathless as she stepped across the marble lobby floor and asked the clerk the way to Percy Bonneville’s office. She hadn’t planned on running away from the tailor’s shop, but the combination of Mrs. Wetmore’s taunts and the sight of the back door, which had been propped open, were too much. Catherine was humiliated, and she wanted to speak with Percy right away. She couldn’t afford to wait a moment longer.

At the door to Percy’s office, she knocked.

“Come in.”

Percy was leaning against a bookshelf behind his desk, leafing through a thick book. He had fine, even features and thin blond hair and stood with a studied ease. At the sight of her, he broke into a wide grin.

It was the kind of reception she hoped she would receive. “My dear Mr. Bonneville.”

Percy came from around the back of the desk and took her hand. “You look lovely, Mrs. Delcour.” He guided her into one of the chairs in front of the desk and took the other one for himself. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, and was told you’d been whisked off to the country house. Was the warm weather too much for you? I hoped you’d write.”

“I’m so sorry, there hasn’t been time.”

“Something’s wrong, I can tell. You’re upset.” He patted her arm. “Don’t worry, no one will interrupt us. Now tell me what’s been going on. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too. You know you’re one of the few friends I have in this town.”

“And you are such a delight. The other denizens of New York don’t know what they’re missing.” He laughed. “It drives my family crazy, but I am my own man. I don’t care what other people say.”

She gave him a weak smile. “That’s very kind of you. I’m afraid I have rather bad news. Mr. Delcour is under the impression you and I have been having an affair.”

“That’s ridiculous. We’re simply good friends.”

“Of course. But I should never have agreed to meet you without Theodosia or Mr. Delcour present. I realize that now. In France, it wouldn’t have mattered, but here I appear to have made yet another serious misstep.”

Percy grew serious. “What’s he done?”

“It’s been terrible. He has me under watch all hours of the day. I was barely able to escape to see you.”

“There, now.” He touched her knee, then withdrew his hand. “I’m sure with time he’ll calm down. If you like, I’ll speak with him and explain our friendship is entirely innocent.”

“How kind of you. But I’m afraid the situation is even more grim. He is planning to ship me off to the West Indies when he gets back from his business trip. He’s going to get rid of me and replace me with someone more acceptable.”

Percy furrowed his brows. “He’s saying he’ll send you away?”

“Yes. And I have no doubt he has every intention of doing so.”

“But he can’t. You’re his wife.” He laughed. “If shipping off one’s wife were legal, most of the wives of New York would be down in the West Indies by now.”

“I’m not his wife.”

“What?”

“I haven’t told another soul what I’m about to tell you. I’m doing so because you’re an attorney, and might be able to help.”

His eyes widened. “I assure you, whatever you say will be held in strictest confidence.”

“We were married at sea on the way to France,” she said. “The captain did the ceremony. I thought it was valid. But a few days ago my husband informed me that ceremonies performed on a merchant vessel aren’t legal. I didn’t know.”

“Sly devil. That way he had a way out, if the marriage displeased him.”

Relief surged through her. Percy understood, and perhaps he’d be able to help. “As you can imagine, I have no money of my own. Not a cent. So I’m completely at his mercy.”

He sat back and rubbed his hands along the arms of his chair. “And you’ve come to me.”

“Yes, I’ve come to you. I was hoping, with your legal knowledge, you might help me find a way out of this mess.”

“What was the nationality of the captain of the ship?”

She thought back. “French. He said he was from Calais.”

“That’s not good. If he’s French, we can’t bring him here to testify you were misled.”

“So there’s nothing to be done?”

He leaned forward, his face somber. “You need someone to take care of you right now.”

His sympathy was unnerving and caught her off guard. She took a handkerchief out of her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. She shouldn’t break down in front of him, but she was so lost.

“Please don’t cry.” He placed his hands on her knees. “I can’t stand to see you so upset. Even if I can’t help you legally, perhaps there’s another way.”

She waited for him to continue.

“You know I would marry you in an instant if I could,” he said. “I’ve had strong feelings for you since the day we met.”

“What on earth are you talking about? You’re already engaged to be married. And I have no desire to marry anyone else, I assure you. I’ve already tried it once. Or thought I had.” She gave an awkward laugh.

“Of course, of course,” he said.

“In which case that is the strangest non-proposal I’ve ever heard.” She stood. “What are you getting at?”

Percy rose and put his hands on her waist. “If you can wait for me.”

“Wait for you to do what?”

“Wait for me to get married. Once I do so, I’ll have more than enough money. I’ll be able to arrange everything you need–gowns, a home, a horse and driver. You’ll be well taken care of, I assure you.”

Catherine tried to step back, but he gripped her waist more tightly.

“And what would you get in return?” she asked.

He pulled her toward him and kissed her, hard. She pushed him away and touched her mouth with her gloved hand.

“So you would have me be your whore?”

He frowned. “Don’t say that. Many men here in New York have a similar arrangement. It’s quite common. You and I get along so well. You’re a beautiful creature. I’d marry you if I could, but I’d be cut off. It would ruin me.”

“So instead you’ll ruin my reputation.”

“I think that’s already happened.”

She flinched at his harsh words and slapped him across the face. The thought of touching or being touched by him made her shudder. This man was no better than Morris. He only wanted her as a possession, a toy.

Percy rubbed his cheek. “I would recommend against making a hasty decision. I’d help you any other way if I could, but Mr. Delcour is a powerful man. It wouldn’t do.”

“I refuse to rely on another man again. I’ve already made that mistake once already.”

“You may say so now, but perhaps later you’ll change your mind.”

“You underestimate me.”

Catherine fled, not caring she was attracting attention as she ran out of the office. Once outside, she turned blindly onto Maiden Lane.

A light rain was falling. Catherine grasped at her skirts and picked up the pace. She must figure out what to do next. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d never left Bridgeport, and instead worked as a maid for the rest of her life, never knowing what she’d missed. All of the grand balls, the sumptuous dinners, the beautiful clothes—it all meant nothing if she was treated as if she belonged in the gutter.

She had nowhere to go, and no family, other than her dear sister, Sophie, who had probably forgotten her by now. When Morris had first dazzled Catherine, she’d believed a silk gown or an ostrich plume fan was all it took to be happy. And she’d been wrong.