Noon at Tiffany's (54 page)

“I have a proposal,” she said. “I’m thinking that the best way to get around the union, at least as far as the mosaic work goes, is to start a union department inside my department and appoint Mr. Briggs as head man. Mr. Briggs could hire as many men as he needed to do the basic work, which would free up some of my girls to work on things that require more skill and artistic judgment.

“Of course this would need great tact and diplomacy so as not to get the men riled, but we can manage that. God forbid I should have to start sending gift baskets again.”

The men looked at each other, and then to Louis, who broke into a smile.

Laurelton Hall

November 17, 1905

Eighteen months is long enough to play this tiresome mourning role! I’ve ordered Simpkins to burn my widower’s clothes. I am not hardhearted—I do miss Louise; she was my anchor even if I sometimes found the rock too weighty to bear happily.

I seem to have failed as a father as well as a husband. My daughters generally look upon me with a wary, distasteful eye. Dorothy and Comfort avoid me entirely.

Clara is frequently on my mind. I am mulling over the idea of formally pursuing the lady, although there are many things to be considered. Right now her value to the company is worth more to me than my need of companionship. I can’t imagine she would have objections to such an arrangement. Certainly the difference of 13 years in our ages would be nothing to a woman who once married a man almost old enough to be her grandfather.

The battle over my land and riparian rights drags on. These people seem not to understand that I’m not like them. They must consider that my standing in the world is a universe apart from their own. I am one of an extravagant people who lead extravagant lives. L.C.T.

February 9, 1906

Dearest Clara and Alice,

The pleasure of your company is requested at Laurelton Hall, on the weekend of February 10—12. My chauffeur will arrive at 44 Irving Place promptly at 6 p.m. Saturday, February 10
^th
, to convey you to Cold Spring Harbor.

Dinner will be served promptly at 9 pm.
Be on time!

L. C. Tiffany

February 10, 1906

Dear Mr. Tiffany,

Thank you for your generous invitation to Laurelton Hall. However, it is with regret that Miss Gouvy and I must decline, due to having made previous plans.

With sufficient notice.
I am sure we will be able to visit your new home at some future date.

C. P. Driscoll and A.C. Gouvy

M
ISS GRIFFIN INSISTED
on inflicting her new health regime on everyone. Designed to keep them alive far into their nineties, several of the practices seemed to Clara more barbaric than beneficial. Foregoing the water and yogurt enemas and other equally invasive measures, she and Alice decided a spirited walk through Madison Square Park was the least objectionable.

“Mr. Tiffany has been acting peculiar as of late,” Clara said, slowing in an effort to match Alice’s shorter stride.

“You mean more peculiar than usual?”

“I suppose. He’s needing to know what I’m doing every second of the day, constantly asking my opinions on everything from running the business right on down to what I think of his suits and hats.”

They came to a bench occupied by two lovers oblivious to everything except each other, and hurried on. “I have some news I think you should hear,” Alice began solemnly. “One of the women who works at the factory with me is Philip’s cousin. She told me that he and Miss Ryan have set a wedding date for early October. I thought you should know.”

Surprised the hurt was still so fierce, Clara said nothing until they reached the park entrance at East Twenty-third. “I suppose you guessed that Philip and I—”

Alice swung around with an air of exasperation. “For God’s sake, Clara,
everyone
knew. Did you think we were dense
and
blind? It was almost indecent the way you’d start looking feverish whenever he was around.”

“I did have a fever,” she said, softly. “In hindsight, you might say I was out of my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice said, taking her hand. “That wasn’t fair of me. It must have hurt you terribly to see them together. I wish you could have been spared that indignity at least.”

“You know about
that,
too?” Clara snatched her hand away and rounded on her. “Is nothing private?”

“You aren’t the only who was hurt, you know,” Alice shot back. “Philip was overcome with grief and guilt over the whole affair. Mr. Yorke told us he was inconsolable for weeks. And what about
us?
You never once came to me about this. It was as if you had no trust in me. We’re a close-knit family, Clara. Precious few things are kept secret among us,
especially when it so affects one of our dearest members.”

“And I don’t suppose any of you considered telling me he was engaged?” Clara said, bitterly. “What a low trick—all of you letting me go on making a fool of myself. How could you have been so deliberately cruel? Especially
you,
my closest friend!” She turned onto Park Avenue, walking rapidly in the direction of Gramercy Park.

“It wasn’t our place to tell you,” Alice yelled, running after her. She grabbed Clara’s arm and spun her around. “Even if we told you, would it have made any difference? We kept waiting and hoping that Philip would say something to you about it. Later, when we realized he was falling in love with you, we were sure he’d break his engagement, but he didn’t.”

Alice’s shoulders fell, her anger spent. “By the time we realized how involved you were, none of us had the courage or the heart to tell you, so we kept watch over you. Why do you think we hardly ever left the two of you alone?”

“So the night Edward found us at the cabin, he already knew?”

“Yes, of course. He was determined to save you from making your own misery. Had he missed the ferry that night, I think he would have risked swimming the river.”

Clara closed her eyes and sighed. “What a fool I’ve been. I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

Alice looked at her in genuine surprise. “Forgive yourself for what? No one is blaming you. Most of us secretly envy you.”

“Envy me?” She gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve made a fool of myself, my friends were put to great tests on my behalf, and I almost ruined myself in the bargain.”

“All true,” Alice agreed, “but you loved passionately and were loved in return. I would give anything to know that feeling once in my life, even if it did ruin me. Many women go to their graves never having known passion like that. I’m fairly certain that everyone who has ever felt it has made a fool of themselves at one time or another.”

She pinched Clara’s cheek. “Forgive yourself. Just promise me you don’t let this stop you from loving again.”

April 2, 1906

Clara stated her case in no uncertain terms. Beating around the bush with Louis Tiffany was never a good idea.

“I want to go to Europe in May and return in October. It will be slow here, and Mr. Briggs is perfectly capable of handling anything that might come up.”

Louis said nothing. It was hard for her to judge from his expression what he was thinking. He held his tented fingers over the lower half of his face, tapping his nose with the point of his index fingers.

“I’ll visit all the galleries, sketching everything I see,” she continued. “When I come back, I’ll be filled with ideas for new things. Actually, you could look at this trip as a sort of investment in future projects.” She raised her eyebrows. “What do you say?”

Louis lowered his fingers. “By all means go.”

She tilted her head, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“It will be a wonderful experience,” Louis continued. “I’ll give you a list of my favorite sketching places.”

Suspicion wound itself around her and squeezed. She knew him too well—his quick generosity would not be without a price. However, if she could make it to the hall without his saying anything more, she just might be home free. She took an experimental step back toward the door. “When I return, I promise to give you wonderful designs.” Another step. “Perhaps we might even branch into some new novelty.”

“I’m sure whatever inspiration you have will be exceptional—it always is.” Louis continued to tap his nose. “However,” he paused, “before I agree to let you go, you must find a replacement.”

“Replacement? Mr. Briggs is my replacement.”

“I’d rather you choose someone else. Mr. Briggs knows the work, but he doesn’t have the sensitive, feminine touch you do, nor does he have any idea how to keep the books.”

He took the pencil out from behind his ear and began scribbling on his desk pad. “Whomever you find will have to meet my approval. I can’t let you leave until you do.” He looked off into the middle distance. She could almost hear him plotting.

“If you do manage to find a suitable replacement,” he said at length, “I think I’ll send Miss Northrop along with you. The two of you can share a stateroom and split the expense.”

Her dream of having a nice little stateroom all to herself withered away. Agnes Northrop’s heart and soul belonged to Louis Tiffany. That meant that besides always having to be on her best behavior, she’d never be able to complain about him.

“Well then,” she said, “I’d better hurry and make my selections, so that Miss Northrop has plenty of time to pack.”

44 Irving Place

April 16, 1906

Dearest Mama, et al,

I received the robin tonight, and it was like an oasis in a weary land. I feel as though I’ve been dragged through a knothole at work. Mr. Platt came to tell me that, to date, greater than 125 of my lamp designs have been made. It’s an accomplishment I suppose, although at present I find little joy in it.

Details of the terrible San Francisco earthquake have reached us. Everyone is appalled at the devastation. Edward says it will take years to rebuild.

Emily, you will be relieved to know Mr. Briggs’s affairs are looking up. He moved his family into a house he bought outside the city. There’s an apple orchard on the land, and Mrs. Briggs has installed three dozen laying hens and planted a large garden. When the apples come in, she plans on selling them to the vendors.

My best news is that on May 12
^th
, I will be aboard the S.S. Prinzess Irene of the North German Lloyd Line, heading for Europe. How I wish you could be there to see me off … or better yet, go with me. Edward is green with envy. He so much wants to visit his family and give me a personal tour of London, but cannot take the time from work.

Mr. Tiffany wants to send Miss Northrop along to ensure I don’t have too good a time. She’d be full of Mr. Tiffany this, Mr. Tiffany that, every moment of the day and night. I’m not going to worry about it, and I’m not going to let it interfere with my good time either. If she says one word
about Tiffany or his studios, I shan’t hesitate to push her overboard.

Miss Griffin is giving up her room to one of the other Tiffany Girls and will take my room for the summer, so that I am relieved of that expense.

I’m having a silk evening dress made for aboard ship, and my ecru linen traveling suit is being completely made over with navy blue braid. I’ve put off shopping for a hat until I can get up the courage. The thought of those evil milliners measuring my head, clucking their tongues and making comments under their breath makes me want to bite somebody.

Now, all that I have left to do is to find my replacement. Mr. Tiffany has rejected my last four recommendations. Everyone at Irving Place is wracking their brains, and I must say, we’ve come up with some humorous solutions. Edward said the best idea is to put Frank in charge. In all honesty, I agree he would be the best choice, for he’s a fine artistic talent with a wonderful sense of color. He has a head for numbers and bookkeeping, and, when Mr. Tiffany or the girls began to harp and chatter, he would remain serene, not being able to hear a word of criticism or complaint.

The bell has rung, and I must go worry some more over my replacement. I love you and can hardly wait to see you this fall.

With all my love, Clara

May 5, 1906

Lenox Hill

The Tiffany Spring Ball, held at the Lenox Hill mansion, was the biggest event of the year for the Tiffany Company employees. Besides giving them a day off to prepare, it provided them with the golden opportunity of seeing firsthand how the other half lived.

In their spring finery, the Tiffany Girls reminded Clara of a flock of beautiful birds. Frank and the boys from the stockrooms looked dashing in their dark suits as they danced the girls around the floor, until all anyone could see were swirling white skirts and flashes of the men’s patent leather boots.

Stooped and somber as an ancient egret, Simpkins approached her and bowed. “Mr. Tiffany requests the pleasure of your company, Mrs. Driscoll. He wishes me to escort you to his room.”

“His room?”