Duke of a Gilded Age (7 page)

He sat at the desk and glanced through the man’s proffered résumé quickly. Mr. Cavendish had lengthy service as a valet to a baron in England, a Lord James Overton. Thereafter, he had an equally long history as a valet to a banker in New York.

“Why did you leave England?” Wesley asked.

“Despite my remonstrations to the contrary, Lord Overton insisted on dying. Since he’d left me a small sum in his will, I decided to travel around the world. The money ran out when my steamer reached port in New York, but as luck would have it I met my future employer, Mr. Jenkins, on the voyage.”

“Mr. Jenkins didn’t die too, did he?”

Mr. Cavendish’s mustache twitched. “That would indeed be an unusual coincidence! No, he dismissed me and I’ve been seeking employment since.”

“Why did he dismiss you?”

“He objected to my drinking.”

The twinkle in the man’s eyes made Wesley wonder if he was altogether serious…or sober. “How very unreasonable of him.”

“Well you know how it is; some people have no tolerance for vice,” Mr. Cavendish said.

“Do you have any other vices you’d like to mention?”

“I’m obsessively neat, a bit of a bookworm, and exceedingly economical. I suspect the latter part is why I never married. Oh, and I’m a sports enthusiast.”

“Really? Do you like baseball?”

“It’s only the best sport in the world! My only reluctance in taking employment overseas is that I’ll miss the World’s Championship Series this October.”

“That’s me as well. What’s your team?”

“The Brooklyn Bridegrooms. I think they’ve got a fair shot of winning this year.”

Wesley leaned forward. “Who do you like to start? Terry or Caruthers?”

“Terry by far and away has the most strikeouts.”

“Yes, but Caruthers has more wins.”

Wesley and Mr. Cavendish talked baseball with enthusiasm for the next few minutes, but a glimpse of the luggage in the corner of the sitting room suddenly reminded Wesley he was supposed to be conducting an interview.

“Oh…by the way, do you get seasick?” he asked.

“Not after the first day or so.”

Wesley scribbled Mr. Oakhurst’s name and room number on the résumé and slid it across the desk. “Mr. Cavendish, may I ask you to take your résumé to my solicitor? He can discuss with you the salary and terms of employment. You do understand we’re sailing this Saturday?”

Mr. Cavendish picked up the paper. “I’m prepared to leave immediately, Your Grace.”

Wesley stood and shook the man’s hand. After Mr. Cavendish left, Wesley couldn’t suppress a pleased grin.
A seasick valet who likes to drink…why I might not see him the entire voyage. How extremely excellent!

Mr. Oakhurst stepped out to the steamship ticket office after breakfast, so Belle wrote another letter to Errol. In it, she described her impressions of Manhattan, the hotel, its décor, and the food. The letter was deadly dull, she decided, but she’d seen so little of the city she couldn’t write anything more diverting. Belle took the letter down to the post office in the lobby and was delighted to discover a cable from Errol. She returned to her room to read it, reveling in his sentiments of undying affection.
It’s so thoughtful of him to send me a cable
.
I’m so fortunate!

As time moved forward, however, she began to chafe at being cooped up indoors. She hadn’t come all the way across the Atlantic to read or write mundane letters, but neither could she sightsee by herself. Not only would it be improper, but it would also be dangerous to set off in a strange city alone. She picked up the
Visitor’s Guide to the City of New York
and began to read the history behind Central Park. At last, her father returned to the suite and Belle ran to meet him at the door.

“Hello, Papa. Did you conduct your business?”

“Yes, indeed. I booked first class passage for the Duke of Mansbury and his mother, as well as passage for one lady’s maid and one valet.” A mischievous smile crept across his face. “And, I paid to upgrade the both of us to first class as well.”

Belle threw herself into her father’s arms. “You’re simply the best Papa,
ever
.”

“How often will we get to travel with a duke, eh? We may as well enjoy ourselves, and we both can be more useful to the Parkers if we’re on the same level with all the other saloon passengers.”

“Forgive me for asking, but can we afford it?”

“We’ll manage.”

“I promise to be exceedingly useful, pleasant, and never say another cross word!”

“I wouldn’t have it otherwise. Now as it’s getting on toward noon—”

A smart tap on the door interrupted him, mid-sentence. Mr. Oakhurst opened the door to reveal a slight, but well-dressed gentleman with a walking stick in hand.

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for Mr. Oakhurst.”

“You’ve found him.”

The man bowed. “My name is Mr. Cavendish, and I’m to be the Duke of Mansbury’s new valet.”

“Your Grace, are you quite sure you wish to hire this Mr. Cavendish?” Mr. Oakhurst asked over lunch. “Since he didn’t go through the agency, I may not have ample opportunity to properly check his references.”

Wesley helped himself to another freshly baked roll.

“I like him. Mr. Cavendish was far more interesting than the other candidates. Besides which, if he doesn’t work out I can always dismiss him.”

“A bit difficult to do in the middle of the Atlantic,” Mr. Oakhurst said.

“The handle of his walking stick was shaped like a bulldog.” Belle giggled. “I liked him too.”

“As did I,” Lady Frederic said. “Although Mr. Cavendish has a very disconcerting way of filling up the room for a man so slight.”

Mr. Oakhurst nodded. “I’ll grant you, he’s very charming and presented himself well.”

“It’s settled, then,” Wesley said.

“All right, I’ll do the best I can to reach his most recent employer,” Mr. Oakhurst said. “Lady Frederic, have you chosen your lady’s maid?”

“Extend an offer of employment to Mrs. Gertrude Neal, please. She’ll do quite nicely.”

“She’s not the hairy one, is she?” Wesley asked.

Lady Frederic sighed. “No, dear, Mrs. Neal was the third candidate I interviewed. She’s a widow who has been supporting herself as a seamstress, lady’s maid, and a companion. I thought we had a great deal in common.”

“Well, then, for the next few hours I’ll be much occupied,” Mr. Oakhurst said. “Annabelle, you’ll be at loose ends until dinner.”

She fought to keep her countenance. “Yes, Papa.”

Mr. Oakhurst finished his meal quickly and left. Belle gave Lady Frederic a hopeful glance. “Milady, perhaps you’d like to take a walk in Madison Square Park after lunch?”

“I wish I could, but I’m afraid I still have a few letters to write. My friends and family in England will be very interested in my change of circumstance. I can’t wait to see them!”

Belle smiled, but her heart sank.
At this rate, all I’ll be able to see of New York is my hotel bedroom!
Lady Frederic folded her napkin, laid it at the side of her plate and rose from her chair. Wesley rose too.

“Would you like me to escort you to the room, Mother?” he asked.

“Oh no, dear. I’m going to pop into The American Specialty Company next door to pick up some nice stationery for my letters. Enjoy dessert with Miss Oakhurst, why don’t you?”

Wesley resumed his seat after his mother left, and sank a fork into a piece of Lafayette cake. Glum, Belle pushed her rice pudding away.

“I’m sick of being indoors,” she said.

He swallowed his bite of cake. “I’ll go for a walk with you.”

“Thank you, but without a chaperone it really wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You didn’t mind when we walked back to the hotel together from the department store.”

“That’s true, and I shouldn’t have done it. My desire to get some exercise and see the city overcame my sense of propriety.”

“Be practical, Belle! We’re leaving New York very soon. Your father is likely to be busy until then. My mother has an extensive family and absolutely loves to write letters. Unless you and I stick together, we won’t be able to do anything worthwhile.”

Belle bit her lip as she weighed her options. Without Wesley to escort her, she had few. “Well…since my father has worked for your uncle all these many years, I suppose we’re practically cousins.”

“Exactly. We can visit Madison Square Park this afternoon and Central Park tomorrow. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. I’ve never had any pocket money until now and I’d like to spend it on an outing or two.”

“All right. I’ll go leave a note for my father, and we’ll meet in the lobby ten minutes from now.”

“Excellent.”

In her room, Belle scrawled a note to her father and retrieved her parasol. On the descending elevator, she rode with a girl about her age dressed in a pretty white gown with a blue sailor suit collar. Blonde corkscrew curls were tied back in a light blue satin bow, and she had the air of being very wealthy and pampered…like a princess. Out of the corner of her eye, Belle noticed the girl staring at her parasol. As they stepped from the elevator, the girl stopped her.

“Excuse me, but I’ve been admiring your parasol. Wherever did you get it?”

Belle was slightly taken aback by the girl’s American familiarity. “Erm…it was at a department store called A. Constable and Company.”

“You’re English! I adore your accent. Some of my cousins are English, but I’ve never met them. Do you know, I’m—”

“Louise, come along! The cab is waiting,” called a woman standing near the front desk with a handsome young man.

“Yes, Mama!” The girl giggled. As she turned back to Belle, her curls danced. “My name is Louise, as you could probably guess. That’s my mother and elder brother. Perhaps I’ll see you again.”

Belle curtsied. “Miss Annabelle Oakhurst.”

Louise’s cornflower blue eyes grew wide and she quickly bobbed up and down in a semblance of a curtsy. “I forgot how you English have such lovely manners.” She giggled again. “Well, good-bye!” The girl hastened off.

Wesley appeared at Belle’s elbow. “Hello. Are you ready to go?”