Noon at Tiffany's (26 page)

“It’s up to you to persuade her,” Louis said. “She’ll hear no more from me.”

Pringle Mitchell looked doubtful. “Mrs. Driscoll neither likes nor trusts me. Have Belknap appeal to her—she’ll listen to him.”

“I’ve already asked him. He actually had the cheek to say she was better off in Mexico.” Louis fell exhausted into a chair. “Damn it, Mitchell, I give her a man’s salary, and she chooses to squander her life in some godforsaken jungle?”

Mitchell gave him a sidelong glance. “Well, she did produce a good amount of work. She was at least partially responsible for making the Columbian Exhibition Chapel the success it was. You walked away with the lion’s share of the awards. How many was it? Fifty-four? And the Glass Gas Tower? Didn’t she help with that design as well?”

Louis stared at him.
“You
defending
Mrs. Driscoll?”

“The woman is insufferable and insolent,” Mitchell said, “and she goes over budget, but I can’t deny that the quality and volume of her work are good. Our sales have doubled.”

“Then convince her to stay on.”

“Even if she would listen to me—which she won’t—how would you have me entice her?”

“Appeal to her on behalf of the Tiffany Girls. Tell her she’ll be letting them down. Tell her she can have the foundry at her beck and call. Tell her anything you think she wants to hear.”

“All right,” Mitchell sighed, “I suppose I can approach it from the standpoint of saving some poor soul from a life of being married to her.”

468 West 57
^th
St.

January 27, 1897

Dearest Family,

I’ve just come from witnessing a most amazing spectacle and must write it down while it’s still fresh in my mind’s eye.

Seven thousand people crowded into Madison Square Garden tonight to view the unveiling of the Tiffany Gas Tower, which Consolidated Gas paid Mr. Tiffany $10,000 to build. People thronged every street for blocks. Alice and I were jostled and pushed so violently that we soon lost sight of each other. The last I saw of Alice, she was several feet off the ground, being carried along in the crush. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

I kept my purse under my skirts and my eyes on the piece of magic towering above me. When the silk veiling fell away, cries of awe went through the crowd like a tide. What a marvelous wonder to behold! Imagine, Mama, a tower of glass sixty feet high, covered inside and out with 2,939 lights that illuminated the sprays of water cascading over long strings of sparkling glass jewels.

Nearly every person at Tiffany’s had a hand in the tower, from Mr. Tiffany right down to the basement men. The pride in their faces and their best clothes on their backs, they were a radiant sight. Mr. Mitchell came up and shook my hand quite cordially and then gave a long sermon on why I should not leave Tiffany’s. I had no rescuers, and my girls are shy of getting in his way. My knight in shining armor was Mr. Bracey, who excused me to Mr. Mitchell, picked me up bodily, and carried me on his back up to 26
^th
Ave. where I caught the trolley.

Emily, I’m sorry to hear about your stay in the college infirmary. What treatment does melancholia require? Perhaps you should read something other than physics books. Just be sure to stay away from Anna Karenina.

I grow more excited by the day about our plans for Mexico. I’ve planned out our house and garden to the smallest detail. I have foregone having an engagement ring since Edwin believes our money will be better spent on things we might need, like furniture.

Enclosed you will find a photograph of Edwin. He hates having his photograph made, but in light of the week’s events, he’s glad these were
taken when they were. As the story goes, Monday evening he failed to attend our charade party, and it wasn’t until the next afternoon I received word that Edwin had been injured when he attempted to break up a fight between two Chinamen squabbling over a woman.

I found him at the Settlement, a sight to behold. He has a deep cut from the corner of one eye to his jaw; the rest of his face was purple and swollen. He was in no pain, however, having taken one of his magic Chinese powders.

I told Alice she was not to go overboard on my wedding hat—no birds or little people playing lawn croquet on the brim.

Love, Clara

P.S. Kate: I’ve begun studying Spanish from a book and practice by speaking the language to the pigeons that congregate outside my window. Fewer of them return each day.

Tallmadge

April 14, 1897

Dearest Clara,

I am pleased with the photo of your beloved. I trust he is as good as he looks. I hope I’m still alive by the time you arrive in May, as I’d like to see him in person and judge for myself.

Love, Grandma

The Briars

May 6, 1897

All bids for Clara and Belknap lost. Clara to Ohio to prepare for the folly of marriage, Belknap to set sail for Europe. This comedy is not without irony, for Belknap’s companion is none other than the brother of Clara’s betrothed. It would seem there is a conspiracy of Waldos out to ruin me.

Miss Northrop has brought it to my attention that Clara’s intended remains here and the wedding date is left open. It provided the incentive to hire Pinkerton’s to gather information about the hesitant bridegroom.

Louise too involved in the Infirmary for Women and Children for my liking. Being a trustee wasn’t enough—thanks to Jacob Riis and his social reform ideas that feed on women’s tender natures, she now insists on going with the nurses and doctors into the disease-ridden rats’ nests of the rabble, coloreds and Jews alike. I forbade her to do so, but she defies my
order. God knows what contagion she might bring home to my children. I reminded her that our Annie died of two such blights. Hopefully she will come to her senses before I’m forced to take more drastic measures.

She continues to shirk her social duties. It has been months since she has accompanied me to any social events or the theater. I deplore this aspect of her and have told her that, as the wife of Louis C. Tiffany, she has an obligation to be seen in the right society. Her affections for the riffraff are most unnatural for a woman of her station.

Here comes little Dorothy to lead me to the garden. A sunny child, but needy. L.C.T.

The Diary of Kate Eloise Wolcott

May 9:
Rev. Cutler brought Clara home from the station. She appears to be fine but isn’t. Her first words were: “You see, Katie, I’ve come home early so that you might have a chance to rescue me.” What am I to make of this? K.W.

May 22:
Edwin’s first letter arrived. Clara read it to us as we embroidered undergarments for her trousseau. He writes that he has been busy with meetings at the Allied Political Clubs and is uncertain as to the date of his arrival. The absence of declarations of affection was noted. K.W.

May 30:
Another letter from Edwin. He claims he has been asked to run for State Assembly, but he isn’t sure about having to be in Albany 3-4 days a week. No word whatsoever regarding his date of arrival or the wedding. Clara pretended to ignore the omissions, and instead made a fuss over his political prowess. K.W.

June 1:
Received Edwin’s rambling letter about his Citizens’ Union Meeting speech, the striking tailors, and the Cooper Union Meeting. Some of it did not make sense, and the writing is almost illegible. Not one tender or personal word to be found among all those empty sentences. K.W.

June 6:
No letter from Edwin. Perhaps we should knit him some socks for those cold feet. We keep Clara occupied with calling on neighbors and expanding her trousseau. She won’t have to purchase another undergarment for the rest of her life. K.W.

June 6, 1897

University Settlement

26 Delancey Street

L
OUIS CLIMBED THE
narrow stairs to the third floor, a handkerchief held to his nose to ward off the unpleasant smell of cooked cabbage and onions. He made his way slowly down the dark hall, pausing at each door, using his pince nez to make out the faded numbers. He tapped lightly on the door without any number at all.

A man in topcoat and gloves answered at once, as if he’d been expecting him.

Louis raised his hat. “I’m looking for Mr. Edwin Waldo.”

“You’ve found him,” Edwin snapped. Sophie was waiting for him at Ming’s, and he was already late. “What is it you want?”

Louis glanced around. “I have business with you, sir, that requires privacy. May we use your room for further conversation?” He saw Edwin’s hesitation and added, “Or, if you wish, we can speak out on the street, although the weather is not particularly favorable this evening. Either way, I assure you, you won’t regret sparing me a few moments of your time.”

Edwin’s gaze wandered over the man’s clothes. The ease with which his visitor wore the expensive garb marked him as a gentleman of means. Still, Edwin was disinclined to admit a stranger to his room. These days, one could not discount villainy, even in gentlemen.

“Oh, come now, Mr. Waldo,” Louis said in a mildly condescending tone. “Don’t hesitate too long, or I shall leave and take opportunity with me.”

Reluctantly, Edwin allowed him inside. “Make it quick. I was just about to go out.”

Louis removed his hat, taking in the small room at a glance. There was an uncomfortable-looking cot, a writing desk, and a cheap armoire missing its door. In the far corner, the wallpaper was blackened with years of smoke and grease from the iron brazier on the floor. The one small window above the desk was bare of screen or curtain.

“Well?” Edwin barked impatiently. “Who are you and what business is so important that you seek me out in the dead of night?”

Louis did not answer immediately, but rather studied Edwin’s face with interest. Dark circles ringed his sunken eyes, and an angry red scar
ran the length of his face. Under the man’s surface was a sinister current that made Louis want to be done with the matter and away from him. “I’m Louis Tiffany, and I’ve come to make you a generous offer.”

Edwin’s eyes widened then, just as quickly, narrowed. “Shall I assume your offer is somehow related to Mrs. Driscoll?”

“It is,” Louis replied. “I’m here to make certain you break your engagement, for I have no doubt that you mean to do her a number of injustices and bring her good reputation to ruin.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Edwin hissed. “I’m a Christian scholar and an honorable man. I work for the good of the poor and the disadvantaged.”

“And I am a man of the world, Mr. Waldo. As such, I’ve met all manner of scoundrels in my day, and the one thing I know for certain is that unscrupulous men frequently seek employment and education in fields that are the opposite of their true nature. You, sir, are one of them.”

Edwin pushed past him and wrenched open the door. “Get out! I’ve heard enough of your claptrap. You’ve wasted my time and made me late for an important meeting.”

Louis’s laughter contained no humor. “I’m sure a girl like Sophie won’t mind if you arrive at Ming’s a little late. Aren’t you her best-paying patron, or is it opium she takes in trade for her services these days?”

Edwin’s expression changed from one of annoyance to one of menacing anger.

Louis had no doubt that Edwin was perfectly capable of violence. He firmed his grip on the cane and used it to push the door closed. “I can’t help but wonder what Clara might do if she knew the man she’s engaged to is an opium addict and keeps a whore.”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Edwin stepped closer, fists clenched. “Better yet, have your detective tell her everything himself. She won’t believe a word of it. She knows you’d stop at nothing to have her back.”

“Clara is correct on that last point.” Louis tugged at his collar. The air in the room pressed in on him, stale and hot. Feigning indifference, he stepped to the window, happy to put distance between Edwin and himself. “I’ve come to the conclusion, Mr. Waldo, that you must be a clever man to have deceived her so completely. I don’t know what evil you’re planning in this Mexico scheme of yours, but first hear my proposition.”

His interest piqued, Edwin paused. “All right, but be quick about it.”

“I’m prepared to offer you a generous amount of money to break your engagement.”

“How generous?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Five hundred dollars?” Edwin sneered. “You insult me. I’ve visited your showroom, and I’m well aware that one of your—excuse me—one of Clara’s windows sells for ten times that much.” He slouched against the door. “I have some knowledge of the way you run your business, sir. It’s no secret to me how much you have profited from Clara’s sweat.”

“You know nothing of my business,” Louis said brusquely. “For every dollar received, I spend two in production costs.”

Edwin didn’t miss the change in Tiffany’s tone or the way those gloved hands tightened over the gold handle of the walking stick. He pushed himself away from the door. “Unless you’re prepared to make a serious offer, I insist you leave at once.”

“One thousand,” Louis said through clenched teeth. It pained him to think of giving the worthless miscreant a nickel, let alone a small fortune. “That’s my final offer.”

Edwin’s mind raced. A thousand dollars would insure the down payment on the plantation with some left over for opium. He studied Tiffany for a moment, wondering how far he could be pushed. Normally, he was good at reading people and knowing how to get them to do what he wanted, but Tiffany was not an easy study; wealthy men rarely were.

There was risk in bargaining, but Tiffany was desperate, that much was clear just from the man’s presence. “Make it two thousand, and I’ll do as you ask.”

“You’ve lost your senses!” Louis bawled. “You’re no better than a common thief.”

Edwin’s lips curled into a contemptuous smile. “Tell me, Tiffany, is a blackmailer better or worse than a common thief?”