Behind a Lady's Smile (10 page)

 

That night, Genny, obviously feeling more comfortable in Mollie’s company, regaled them with story after story, making even the horrifying seem like a grand adventure. She recounted breaking her leg and Mitch tripping with her in his arms as if it were the grandest time she’d ever had.

Mollie wiped her eyes, stilling chuckling, and asked, “When are you taking that god-awful thing off her leg?”

It had been more than a month since he’d set her leg and wrapped it in the deerskin, so it was probably fine to remove it. Mitch was afraid of what they’d find underneath. What if her leg was crooked? What if it hadn’t healed all the way? Genny had been walking without crutches for weeks now, but that didn’t mean something horrible wouldn’t happen when they removed the hide.

“Can we take it off, Mitch? My leg feels fine and the deerskin’s quite pliable.” She lifted up her leg to show how she could move her ankle back and forth. “It would be so lovely to wear the new pair of boots we purchased today. They won’t fit around the skin.”

“I suppose we could. But if it doesn’t look right, I’m wrapping it back up again.” He turned to Mollie. “I need the sharpest knife you have.”

Mitch could feel a cold sweat breaking out, even though the evening was still warm. “Let’s go out to the back porch. Bring a lamp, will you, Moll?”

Mollie stood back and watched as Mitch carefully cut through the leather, but her eyes weren’t on the knife slicing through the thick hide. She was looking at the two of them, the way Miss Hayes laid her hand on Mitch’s shoulder, as if comforting him, as if she knew how afraid he was that he was taking the cast off too soon. She watched the way Mitch would look up at Miss Hayes, to check to see if she was all right, the way he forced a smile to comfort her.

Mitch looked up and saw the expression in Mollie’s eyes and he felt a small bit of anger. She was feeling sorry for him because he’d let his heart slip down to his sleeve again. He was going to have to get better at hiding his feelings. Turning back to Genny’s leg, he slowly peeled the deerskin away, revealing a straight, if somewhat thin, leg.

“It looks as if it had never broken,” Genny said. “You missed your calling, Mr. Campbell, you should have been a surgeon.”

“It’s a fine job, Mitch,” Mollie said.

“You’ll get your muscle back in no time,” Mitch said, frowning at how thin her leg was. The muscle of her calf was like jelly.

Mitch took Genny’s hand and helped her to stand. “How does it feel?”

“A bit weak. Let me take a step or two.” She did, shakily. “My ankle hurts a bit. Guess it’s not used to moving so much.”

“Let me go get my grandfather’s cane,” Mollie said, and when Genny made to protest, the older woman laughed. “He’s six feet under, so he doesn’t need it anymore.”

Once she had the cane in hand, Genny put on her new pair of soft kid boots and practiced walking, back and forth on the porch.

“Why don’t you take a break, Genny?”

“I want to build up my muscle. I must say, its gelatinous state is a bit repulsive.” She wrinkled her nose as she reached down and touched her calf through her dress.

Mitch laughed. “You’re not going to build up that muscle in a day, darlin’, so you might as well rest. We can have William’s brother drive us to the station tomorrow.” Mollie lifted one eyebrow and mouthed the word
darlin’
and Mitch gave her a hard look. He’d had enough of Mollie’s opinions to last a while.

“Have you ever been to New York?” Genny asked Mollie.

“The furthest east I’ve been is Chicago. That’s where I grew up until my folks moved out here when I was sixteen. I hear it’s something, though. More people in one block than some entire cities.”

“We’ll only be there for a day or two before heading to England, but you’ll have enough time to see the sights,” Mitch put in.

He just hoped the sights she saw wouldn’t shock her too much.

N
othing in Genny’s past could have prepared her for New York City. It was a cacophony of horses, carriages, newsboys shouting, hammers and saws, horsecars, and people, people everywhere. It was exciting and frightening—and awful smelling. It seemed there were as many horses as people and the paved roads were matted with manure.

Still, riding in a large car crowded with people and pulled along a rail by a horse was something Genny had never done before. They rode from Grand Central Depot on 42nd Street, which didn’t seem all that grand to Genny, down Park Avenue, getting off at Bleeker Street. Along the way, Mitch would point out interesting sights and tell her stories, but the closer he got to his mother’s home, the quieter he became. Genny did notice that the buildings seemed a bit smaller, the streets more congested with pedestrians and far fewer horses and fine carriages. The shops here had colorful goods spilling out into the street, and many of the people spoke German or had thick Irish brogues.

“My mother lives just outside the Bowery,” Mitch said, though Genny had no idea what that meant. “She used to live closer to Niblo’s Garden.”

“Niblo’s Garden?” Genny asked, struggling to walk as quickly as Mitch. In all her time with him, he’d always been conscious of the fact she could not walk as quickly as he could. But now, it was all she could do to stay close enough to hear him.

“It’s a theater near Broadway. She was in
Macbeth
there, but that was more than twenty years ago.” He stopped suddenly, and she nearly ran into his back. “My mother is . . .” He let out a gusty sigh. “She’s eccentric. Very eccentric. She hasn’t worked in two years, not since a fire at the theater a couple of years back. I sent money to her for a while until she wrote saying I needn’t continue. I haven’t been home in a few years, so I don’t know what we’re going to find.”

He turned and stared at a door, painted a cheerful red with a lovely lantern hanging above it.

“Too early for zat, young man,” said a woman in a thick German accent. She was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a shop from which emanated the most delicious smell of cooked meat.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re heading up to Mrs. Campbell’s place? Too early.”

“Is she not in?” Genny asked, confused by the woman’s demeanor. It almost seemed as if she disapproved of them, though she didn’t know how that could be.

The older woman, her head covered by a colorful scarf, peered at her with faded blue eyes as if Genny had said something ridiculous.

“Madam, Mrs. Campbell is my mother. Are you saying she’s not in?”

The woman’s eyes grew wide. Then, without a word, she hurried away.

Mitch swore beneath his breath and didn’t bother to apologize; he almost
always
apologized when he swore in front of her.

“If we can’t stay here, we’ll find a hotel, though I hate the expense of it.”

“Perhaps your mother didn’t receive your cable,” Genny said, looking doubtfully around the neighborhood.

“Come on,” Mitch said, and pushed open the door. He led her up to the second floor, and Genny noticed how clean and elegant the entrance was. His mother might be eccentric, but she certainly kept a lovely entry. When he reached the top of the stairs, Mitch waited for her with ill-concealed impatience. Clearly he was nervous about seeing his mother and Genny wondered just how “eccentric” she was.

Mitch lifted a heavy, ornate door knocker, carved in the shape of a mermaid. A rather risqué mermaid. He looked at the figure, his brows furrowed, then stepped back to examine the door again. “I don’t think my mother would have moved without telling me,” he said, eying the mermaid. He lifted the lady’s tail and let it drop again, and Genny had to stifle a giggle.

Mitch gave her a dark look before straightening. Someone was coming to the door from inside the apartment. The door opened to reveal a small woman wearing a maid’s uniform. “It’s too early,” she said in a thick Irish brogue, first looking at Mitch, and then longer at Genny. “Who are you?” The question was directed at Genny.

“Miss Genevieve Hayes. We’re here to see Mrs. Campbell,” Genny said.

“Well, Miss Genevieve Hayes, if you haven’t been here before, you have to make an appointment. You can’t just waltz in here and demand to see Mrs. Campbell. Everyone knows that. Besides, we’re closed down for a few days.”

Mitch held up his hand, stopping any more conversation between the two women. “You work for Mrs. Campbell?”

The maid nodded. “I’m her personal maid,” she said, in a way that made it seem as if she expected a challenge to her claim.

“I’m her son,” Mitch said, and Genny felt a bit of delight when the girl’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Mr. Campbell. That’s right, we were expectin’ you. Come on in with the both of you. You can’t be too careful, you know. Your mother, she’s a fine woman, she is. She should be getting up right about now. I’ll go check on her.”

Mitch pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”

“Yes, that’s about right,” the maid said, leading them further into the apartment. “You wait here and I’ll be right back.”

 

“Jesus,” Mitch breathed. He was standing in the most luxurious room he’d ever set foot in. The walls were rich, carved mahogany, the floor covered with an impossibly soft carpet, the furniture gleaming wood and expensive leather. It looked like a room one would find in an exclusive men’s club, not that he’d ever been in one. This could not be his mother’s home. Last he’d seen her, her furniture had been shabby and she certainly couldn’t have afforded a maid. Hell, she could hardly afford to feed herself. Had she found herself a rich man?

“It’s lovely,” Genny said, looking up at him worriedly.

“It is that.” He knew he’d grown quiet and taciturn, but seeing his mother always put him on edge. He never knew what he was going to find, though she was often more than a little tipsy. In all his imaginings, he had never expected to find himself standing in the middle of a room that actually
smelled
rich. Dominating the ceiling, hanging beneath an intricate medallion, was a spectacular chandelier. It wasn’t lit, for sun still streamed through the windows only partially covered by dark blue velvet drapes pulled back by thick gold ropes. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was real gold in the ropes’ thread.

“Mitchell, I didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” his mother said as she floated into the room, her robe flowing behind her dramatically.

“We were actually supposed to arrive yesterday.”

“Were you?” She was in a dressing gown that even he could tell was expensive. What the hell was going on here? She rushed over to him, kissing him on each cheek. He didn’t smell wine on her breath, but that didn’t necessarily mean much. She had just woken up, after all. “You look wonderful, darling.” She stepped back and smiled at Genny. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Genevieve Hayes,” Genny said.

His mother looked from Genny to him, the question clear in her gaze. The question of who Genny was hadn’t been answered and Mitch knew it.

“I’m escorting Genny to England to meet her grandparents for the first time. We met in California. She’d broken her leg and needed help, so I helped her. We can get more into the story later, Mother. Miss Hayes, this is Madeline Campbell, my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Campbell.”

Madeline waved a hand. “Please call me Madeline. Only my clients call me Mrs. Campbell. And I shall call you Genevieve, if you don’t mind. We’re not so formal here, despite the way the room looks.” Her brown eyes sparkled as she made a slow circle, her arms outstretched. “Aren’t you curious?”

“As a cat,” Mitch said dryly.

His mother raised her chin regally. “I’m a business owner, Mitch, and business is thriving. As you can see.”

Mitch was afraid to ask. His mother had struggled for years when it was clear she’d become too old for most parts. When he was very young, they’d lived in a nice apartment, even had a maid for a short time. But for most of his life, they had struggled to pay rent. One thing his mother had never done was have a man friend to pay her bills. She might be eccentric, she might drink a bit too much, but she had principles. When he’d left to fight in the War Between the States, he’d done so knowing he could send his pay back to her. Over the years, he’d worried that their very lives depended on whether she got this part or that part. When the theater burned down, he’d feared she wouldn’t have a way to make a living. Apparently, she’d found one heck of a way.

“Here,” she said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small pamphlet. “This should explain it.”

Mitch took the pamphlet, first reading the title aloud. “The Gentleman’s Companion.” He began reading and it soon became quite clear what the pamphlet was about. Though it contained a ridiculous disclaimer in the front of the booklet that said the publication was for the purpose of warning men away from houses of ill repute, it was clear that what he held in his hand was a guide of sorts.

His mother could tell from his expression exactly when he realized what the pamphlet was about, and said, “Turn to page sixteen.”

This he did not read aloud:

“Good God, Mother. Have you gone mad?” he asked, thrusting the pamphlet back to his mother.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Genny asked, stepping forward as if she feared Mitch might keel over. And at that moment he felt as if he just might.

He couldn’t believe what he’d just read. His mother—his
mother
—was operating a brothel. And, if the pamphlet was to be believed, many other people were too.

“First-class establishment,” Madeline said, smiling. “Not too many made
that
classification.”

He just stared at his mother and shook his head, made mute by the audacity of the woman. “We can’t stay here, Genny. Be damned the cost of rooms at a hotel. We’ll make do.”

“For goodness’ sake, Mitchell, when did you become such a prude?”

“Mother, you’re running a
brothel
.” He darted a look at Genny to see if she was as shocked as he. “Surely you do not expect me to stay here, and certainly not with an innocent single woman?”

Madeline gave him a look that clearly told him she didn’t believe the “innocent” part for one second.

“Hell, I need to sit down,” Mitch said. Dealing with his mother had never been easy, but he’d hardly thought she would turn into a madam! He sat down on the nearest sofa, sinking onto a cushion of pure luxury.

His reaction to the comfort must have shown in his face, because his mother said, “Nice, isn’t it? First class. Everything, from the food to the furniture to the . . .”—she paused for dramatic effect—“. . . entertainment.” Then she draped herself onto the opposite couch and patting one well-manicured hand upon the leather, invited Genny to sit next to her.

Genny gave Mitch an uncertain look before sitting down. “Oh, it is delightful, isn’t it?” she asked, resting her hand on the soft leather.

Madeline laughed. “Wherever did you find her, Mitchell? And that accent, it’s perfect.”

“I was living in California with my father and was quite alone after he died. I was spying on Mitch and he startled me, purely by accident. I fell, breaking my leg. I was completely helpless, so he brought me back to my cabin and set my leg. And he’s agreed to escort me to England to meet my grandparents. You see, my mother and her parents had a falling out years ago, and from their letters they are desperate to see me. I think it’s lovely of your son to bring me all the way from California, across an ocean, just so I can be with them.”

The entire time Genny gave her speech, Madeline stared at her with a bemused look. And when she finished, she turned that bemused look to her son. “Yes,” she said, “it is lovely of Mitch. And so altruistic, too.” Genny let out a yawn. “It’s been a long day, I do apologize.”

“I think we’d better find a hotel, Miss Hayes,” Mitch said. Nice hotels in New York were expensive, and he didn’t want to have Genny stay in one of the lesser establishments where linens weren’t changed regularly and the clients were less than savory. The five thousand dollars he’d taken out of his account represented all the money he had in the world. He still had to book passage to England for the two of them, and passage back for him. If he spent a hundred here and a hundred there, before he knew it, half his money would be gone. But he didn’t mind spending a bit of money to avoid having Genny stay at a brothel, even if it was operated by his mother.

“Oh, nonsense,” Madeline said. “I’ve closed down for a month in anticipation of your visit. I’m not worried a bit about losing clients; they’ll be back.” She smiled serenely. “Do you really think I’d continue operations with you here? What kind of a mother do you think I am?”

Mitch nearly choked, but valiantly remained silent.

“I’ve prepared a room for you,” she said to Mitch. “It’s a guest room, so you need not fear about other activities that may have taken place.”

“I’ll need two rooms, Mother,” Mitch said, and almost begged his mother to react. He didn’t much care for the women in his life thinking he would corrupt a young girl for his pleasure. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, and dreamed about it, and made himself crazy wishing he was that sort of man. “If a room isn’t available, I’ll sleep on the couch here.”

“I’ve plenty of rooms, Mitchell. I’ll have Eileen make one up. I have the rooms cleaned and prepared after every client. No one shares bedding in my establishment. It’s something my girls greatly appreciate. It’s those little touches that separate us from the others. In the meantime, your friend can take a nap before dinner. I have one of the finest French chefs in the city, and he’d argue he’s
the
finest. He wasn’t all that pleased to learn I’m shutting down for a month, but I’m planning a few parties with my old friends from Niblo to appease him.” She let out a light laugh.