Masquerade (20 page)

As for Conrad … Charlotte tried to study him a glance at a time, to gauge if she felt any physical attraction. He was not a handsome man, though not unhandsome either. He had a wide nose and a cleft in his chin, but her first impression was of a man who ate a bit too much and who was a bit soft in the muscle, with no need to exert himself with any means of physical labor. She couldn’t imagine him a horseman either. Did New Yorkers ride for sport or have country homes where they could exercise with a fox hunt or a round of polo? His grandfather had started a dry goods store. Did Conrad work there? Was he a good worker? Would he be a good provider?

She risked another glance in his direction and found he was clearly looking at
her
.

She looked away and was decidedly disturbed when her thoughts suddenly detoured to Dr. Edmund Greenfield.

Would she ever see him again?

Such thoughts were absurd, indiscreet, impossible …

And undeniable.

Come back!

Lottie watched Dora get into the Tremaines’ carriage. Not once had the girl turned around to see her one last time. Lottie had been ready to raise a hand for a final good-bye, but there’d been no need. With their one embrace, Dora had walked away from Lottie and had
become
her.

Just like that.

Lottie scanned the New Yorkers waiting for travelers. There were many handwritten signs, but not a one with Dora’s name on it.

Dora’s cousin wasn’t coming.

Although Lottie had bravely told Dora she would take the train to the cousin’s address, saying so and doing so were far different things. She looked at the elevated railway overhead. The noise when a train came past was deafening. She had no notion of where to buy a ticket, or where to get off or—

Suddenly she was knocked off-balance as a man ran into her full force.

“Hey!” she said as she tried to right herself.

But instead of making his apology, he snatched the leather box out of her arms and ran on.

It took her a moment to comprehend what had happened.

Then … “Stop! Stop that man! Thief!”

The people crowding the park looked up from their business, then down again. Her problem was of no concern to them.

Lottie spotted a uniformed man with a baton at his belt and ran toward him. “Sir, a man just stole my jewels!”

He removed the baton and looked in the direction she pointed. “I don’t see any man.”

They looked upon a hundred men. “He grabbed them out of my hands.”

“You were carrying them, out in the open?”

“Not in the open. In a box.”

He looked for the thief one more time, then sighed. “Box or no, they’re long gone now.”

“Aren’t you going to run after him?”

He tapped his baton against his leg. “Bum leg.”

“Aren’t you a constable?”

“A police officer. Yes, I am.”

“Then I demand you try to catch him.”

His eyebrow rose beneath his hat. “Excuse me, missy, but you being new here … I don’t think you’ve earned the right to demand much of anything.”

It was hopeless. In the time they’d discussed the theft, the thief had gained too much ground. He was blocks away by now.

The strain of the day fell upon her. An arrival, a parting, a theft … What should she do now?

She began to cry.

“Now, now, no need for that,” the policeman said. “Let’s get you sitting down where you can collect yourself.”

The absurdity of his measure of comfort pulled her out of her tears. It was laughable. Collect herself? She’d just traversed an ocean, run away from her family and her life, and had now lost her only means of revenue and survival.

Collect herself?

She jerked away from his leading arm. “If you can’t—or won’t— help me, then leave me be.”

“Don’t get huffy, missy.”

“It’s Miss Hathaway, and I’ll do whatever I please.” She faced him fully. “If this is the kind of welcome you give newcomers, then I think the whole of New York City will be losing more than a few by return passage.”

“Fine by me.” He waved his baton over the crowds around them. “Too many of you foreigners here anyways. No one would be happier than me if the bunch of you went back where you came from.”

“Then we’re agreed,” Lottie said.

“I guess we are.”

“Then … good day.”

“The day it is, but good it ain’t.” He nodded and left her.

Lottie held her stance as long as she could, but the exertion took its toll and her legs grew weak beneath her. She stumbled to a bench and found a hand upon her elbow to ease her to sitting.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be all right.”

“Quell’uomo terribile! Povera ragazza!”

Lottie looked at her rescuer. It was a woman with dark hair pulled smoothly into a bun. She wore no hat and her clothes were plain. The language was not entirely unfamiliar, and Lottie guessed from her experience at the opera that the woman was Italian.

“Thank you for helping me. But I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The woman shook her head, then said, “
Scusi.
That man … horrible. You poor girl.” She looked in the direction the thief had run. “I saw thief.”

“He took …” She stopped before explaining more. Yet what would it hurt for the entire world to know the box contained jewels? They were gone now. “He took my jewelry.” Lottie touched her earrings and put a hand to her neck.

“Ah.
Sì. Gioielli
.”

Lottie noticed the woman had come to her aid from a grouping of three immigrants who were gathered with miscellaneous satchels and trunks spread around them. “Thank you very much for helping. But I’m all right now.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Fine. All right.”

The woman smiled. “
Sì.
All right.”

She went back to her family, leaving Lottie alone.

Lottie had to regroup. Her jewels were gone. The first order of business was to get to the cousin’s house, where perhaps she could get some advice. Before the theft, Lottie had been on her way to ask about the train. Surely it wouldn’t cost too—

Lottie gasped. She’d put all her money in the jewel box!

Not only were her jewels gone, she didn’t have a single penny.

How could this happen? She closed her eyes against the sight of this frightening and exasperating new land. If only she’d never left home. If only that man hadn’t taken everything she held dear. If only Dora hadn’t left her alone… .

You’re not alone. God’s in America too, Charlotte. Don’t forget Him!

God was with her? If He was here, why would He let this happen to her? What happened to
I’ll watch over you
?

America, with its streets paved with gold. It was laughable.

She was in a foreign country with no means of support. Was God having a good laugh at her expense?

Lottie pressed her hands against her face. “What more?”

There couldn’t
be
more. God had already done His worst. Hopefully He would forget her and move on to His next victim.

Lottie had told Dora she would pray, but no more. From now on, Lottie would handle things herself. She certainly couldn’t do any worse.

Chapter Nine

“
Scusi?
Miss?”

Lottie took the last bite of her apple and looked up, putting her worries on hold. Just as well. They had no eloquence but were a jumble of words and thoughts that were unintelligible. It was the Italian woman. Her family was standing close by, ready to move on. “Yes?”

“You meet someone?”

“No.”

Her dark eyebrows nearly touched in the middle. “You have place to go?”

Lottie removed the cousin’s address from her reticule. The woman looked at it and frowned. “Far. Too far. You come with us? Send message? Yes?”

So the woman was not one of the immigrants just off the boat? “You live here?”

“Six years. I am Lea Scarpelli.
Mia familia
has come.” She introduced the people behind her. “
Mia
sister Francesca, husband, Aldo. Son, Vittorio. From Napoli. A long—”

Suddenly a man wearing a vest and a bowler hat stepped between them and shouted at Lea. “Get away from her, you stupid crow. Can’t you see she’s a lady? She doesn’t want to go with the likes of you.” He turned to face Lottie in far too close a manner and grinned. He had two teeth missing and his odor smacked her senses. “Come on, pretty miss. I’ll help you git wherever you want to go. I know this city better’n any I-tie ever will. I’ll find ya a good place to sleep.”

It was his final wink that settled it. Without a word, Lottie sidestepped the man and moved to the middle of Lea’s family.

His grin faded to a sneer. “Fine. Choose them over me. I’m sure one of those
omettos
will be glad to take care of you. If they can.” He laughed at his joke and sauntered away.

Vittorio stepped out of the group, raised an arm, and yelled,
“Cretino stupido!”

Lea nodded at her nephew and smiled. “Our
protettore
.” When Lottie didn’t understand, she raised her fists as if fighting.

Ah. “Protector.”

“Sì.”
The woman put a hand to her chest. “I am Lea, but you?”

“Lottie Hathaway.” Lottie was amazed at how easily the name fell from her lips. Repeating the surname of her dear nanny gave her strength.

“Lottie Hathaway, come. You be with us tonight.”

“I don’t wish to be a burden.”

Lea handed her a satchel. “Carry.”

Lottie adjusted the leather handles. It wasn’t that heavy. Once they got on the train— “Come now. We walk.”

“Walk?”

“You have money for train?” Lea asked.

She felt herself redden. “No.”

“You have legs?”

An unbidden smile escaped. “Yes.”

“We walk.”

Lottie didn’t dare ask how far.

The carriage slowed. “Here we are,” Conrad said.

Charlotte looked out the window at a white marble building with a columned entry. It looked very much like a library or a building of state. Four stories, capped with a short curved roof that looked French in design, grew upon a carved foundation. Surely this couldn’t be a home—their home.

She kept her questions to herself, not wanting to appear naïve.

The coachman opened the door and Conrad said, “After you, Miss Gleason.” She was helped to the sidewalk. The building towered above her. The width of the house was over a hundred feet across its front and sat on a corner that sported signs that said
W. 34
^th
Street
and
Fifth Avenue
.

Beatrice joined her, and finally Conrad. The carriage pulled away. “Well, now,” Conrad said. “What do you think of our little home?”

Little?
A laugh escaped and Charlotte pressed a hand to her lips. “Forgive me.” Then she collected herself, sighed, and said, “It will do.”

Beatrice patted her on the back. “A girl of gumption. How … charming.”

Charlotte looked to Conrad. Did he appreciate her manner? He seemed less certain. Then he nodded toward the brownstone across the street. “Our house certainly outdoes the neighbors’.” He leaned close. “Mrs. Astor lives there.”

He made it sound important, as if she should know this Mrs. Astor. Charlotte feigned knowledge and offered an extended “Oh,” as if she were impressed. The brownstone was quite dull compared to the Tremaine mansion, and a third its size. It reminded her of a larger version of the home where the Gleasons stayed when they went to London.

“Come inside,” Beatrice said. “If we keep you out here much longer, Caroline will see you, and the whole city will know you’ve arrived before Mother has had the honor of spreading the news.”

Conrad led her up the front steps. “Mrs. Astor
does
know you’re coming. Mother made sure of that. One does not surprise Mrs. Astor.”

The woman sounded formidable and someone Charlotte hoped 146 she never had to meet.

A butler opened the door, and they came into an entry hall rimmed with fluted columns and populated with Grecian statues.

Beatrice gestured to a statue of a seated woman who was cowering with one arm bent above her head. “First you should meet Cousin Mildred. This is a statue of her reaction to Mother’s insistence she learn to like trout.”