The Time Heiress (4 page)

“Now! Do it!” Nick cried.

“All right,” replied Jake. “Here we go. Here you go, Evie!”  

She gulped and tried not to panic. Jake activated the travel mode, the chamber door slid shut, and she disappeared from site. The eyes of the team members remained on the monitor while two more people walked past Cassandra. Then someone appeared to stop in front of her.

“Shit!” Jake hissed.

“No!” Nick whispered to the person. “Keep going!”

They could see that it was a man she was speaking to, and in another moment, he continued on. They all let out a communal sigh. The next second, Evie appeared in the alleyway and they all cheered. They watched as she picked up her bags, and moved out onto the sidewalk with Cassandra. They saw the two women hug, then pick up their bags and move out of sight of the monitor.

We were taken to a big house. This one belonged to a family with children, all as kind as could be. They put us in the attic with food and water and cautioned us to be quiet. We slept, but sometime in the night we heard shouts and yelling. We clung to each other, scared as mice. We heard the dogs, and we knew it was Master that’d found us. We heard the father of the house talking and arguing and we heard the babes crying and the mother settling them down. Our hearts broke for the trouble we had caused. We could hear snatches of the conversation at the door.

“Yeah, I seen ’em,” said the father. “They come by here looking for some grub but I sent ’em away.”

“Where’d they go?” we heard Master say.

“Don’ know and don’ care,” the father said. “I don’ want no runaway niggers hangin’ around these parts.”

“Those three mighty valu-ble. There’d be a lot a trouble for anyone hidin’ em,” threatened Master.

The father got angry at this and told Master not to be telling him what he knew perfectly well. Finally, Master and his men gave up and went away.

We stayed there through the next day. The woman told us that we were just across the border in Virginia. We knew we had come from a place in North Carolina called Ahoskie and we were heading to a place called Philadelphia, but that is all we knew. She said we had still a long ways to go.

From Caleb Stone’s narrative, as remembered by Dr. Cassandra Reilly

*****

When Cassandra emerged from the portal, she gasped at the cold and the smell. She grabbed her bags and moved out of the alleyway, in case anyone should come along and see her loitering. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, a couple walked by, startled at her sudden appearance. She tried to stay calm and simply nodded a greeting. They responded and hurried past. Few people were on the avenue, and all of them were urged quickly on, it seemed, by the cold. A policeman approached and her heart started to pound, knowing Evie would appear at any moment.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said with an Irish lilt.

“Good evening,” she responded, smiling politely.

“Is there anything I can help ya with?”

“No, no, I’m waiting to flag a hackney coach.” Please go away, she thought.

“Can I help you with that?”

“Oh no, I am fine.”

“Very well,” he said, looking at her askance. “If yer sure—”

“Yes, yes. Thank you for your kindness.”

“’Ave a good night then.”

“You too, officer.”

The man continued on his way, and when he had gone about twenty feet, she heard the sound of Evie gasping. She turned to look while the young woman gathered her bags and hurried towards Cassandra, tears in her eyes.

“That was awful!” She sobbed and fell into Cassandra’s arms.

“Shhh, it is going to be fine. You are here now, and we need to get off the street.”

Evie shook herself and wiped her eyes. “Yes, of course.” She looked around wide eyed at the dimly lit streets. “It is so beautiful! But it stinks!”

Cassandra laughed. “You will get used to it.”

Just then a hackney coach clattered up Broadway and Cassandra recognized it amongst the variety of other carriages.

She called out loudly, “Oh, sir!”

The vehicle lumbered to a stop, and the two women grabbed their bags and hurried over to it. The driver hopped down off his perch. “Let me help ya with yer things, ladies.”

He looked from one woman to the other before grabbing a suitcase and flinging it into the back of his carriage. “Where y’ goin’?” he asked as he worked.

“The Dylan Hotel,” Cassandra replied. “Do you know it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He put the last bag into the vehicle. “I am afraid there’s not too much room left, but I think ya can squeeze in. Let me help ya.”

Evie stepped forward and he took her hand, stared a moment at her face, then, as if remembering his place, turned away and went to assist Cassandra. He then climbed up on top and spurred on the horses. They turned left onto Thirteenth Street from Broadway.

“Cassie, it almost seemed like he recognized me,” Evie said breathlessly.

“Recognized you?”

“Yes, he stared at me.”

“Well, of course he stared at you, you are attractive. It is natural.”

“I just thought for a moment that—”

“Evie, the year is 1853. No one knows who you are.”

“Yes, of course. That will be hard to get used to.”

Cassandra nodded, for lack of anything else to say, and looked out the window as the coach jolted and bounced along the cobblestone roads. It was dark—the streets lit only by an occasional gas lamp, and few other vehicles passed them now that they were off the avenue. Dim candlelight shone from the windows of the homes lining the streets of the residential neighborhood they were passing through. She was grateful that the novelty of the sites kept Evie quiet for the time being. She needed to gather her wits about her.

Soon the carriage turned left onto Fifth Avenue, where the houses loomed grand and opulent. The
imposing brownstone buildings, three and four stories high, were all similar in style, some ornamented tastelessly with statues and gargoyles, great wrought-iron gates of complex design guarding their entrances. Others were somber, the tall front windows swathed from within with heavy drapes; no glimpse was allowed into this world. The smoke that curled from their chimneys gave a mere hint at the lives of the privileged occupants. Cassandra imagined a woman of her own age, curled up on a divan, reading a selection from her vast library, or perhaps, locked in some inner struggle with the boredom and uselessness of her life, pacing in her parlor, waiting for the return of her husband who had left her neglected as he enjoyed a night of billiards with—

“Oh look!” Evie called out as she pointed to a handsome home. Cassandra craned to look while the coach turned right onto the more modest Waverly Place.

Within moments they were pulling up in front of a gray, stone building, two lamps flanking the entrance, an iron fence enclosing a thin strip of flower garden where newly emerged tulips slept, waiting to bloom. A wooden, painted sign over the arched front doors proclaimed
DYLAN HOTEL
. The coachmen leapt down and opened the carriage door. Once the ladies emerged, he pulled down their luggage, and Cassandra fished money out of her bag.

“How much, sir?”

“Twenty-five cents, please.”

Practiced in handling the money, Cassandra quickly extracted the coin, plus an extra nickel for a tip.

“Thank y’ kindly, ma’am.” The driver took it and hurried into the hotel. Moments later he emerged with a bellman who snatched up the bags two at a time and carried them inside. They waited while he came out for the rest, then said goodnight to the coachman.

The hotel entryway was quietly elegant. The floor was made up of green and white marble tiles. Candles in a chandelier burned above their heads, and a front desk of red mahogany reflected its light. Behind the desk stood a thin, elderly man, looking at the travelers expectantly. The bellman put their bags down near the desk and stared at the two women while the clerk addressed them.

“How may I help you this evening, ladies?” His accent was refined.

Cassandra spoke as Evie looked about at the surroundings. “We need a room for two, long term, possibly a month.”

“We have the finest set of rooms in the hotel available,” he said brightly. “They are on the third floor, two bedrooms, a sitting room, a dining area, and a private bath. I think you will find them to your liking.” 

“It sounds perfect,” said Cassandra with great relief. “We shall take it, at least for tonight. In the morning, may we confirm the length of our stay?”

“Yes, of course.” He paused. “May I ask for the balance of the night’s stay in advance? It is ten dollars.”

“Certainly,” she answered. She removed the money from the bag, securing in her hand a tip for the clerk and the bellman. She paid for the room, and the bellman started hauling the bags up the green marble staircase on their right.

“Will you be requiring refreshment this evening, ma’am?”

She looked at Evie, who nodded. “Yes, whatever you have will be fine. Something very light before bedtime.”

“I shall have a bit of supper sent up immediately.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Thank you,” Evie said. They were the first words she had uttered to anyone other than Cassandra. The clerk glanced at her and inclined his head. Cassandra handed the man his tip, indicated to Evie to go ahead, and they both ascended the stairs. At the top of the third-floor landing, they found a door open and the bellman inside lighting a fire. When he had finished and closed the door behind him, Cassandra sank down onto a sofa and covered her face with her hands.

Evie rushed to her side and sat next to her. “What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Cassandra took a deep breath and looked up. “It is just that these first few moments are always the hardest to get through.”

“Oh, I thought it was only me that was frightened.”

“No, no, I am not frightened, just a little tense. Do not worry. We are fine. We are here now, we are safe. We have this beautiful suite.”

The two women looked about at their surroundings of shining wood parquet floors scattered with hand-woven carpets; brocade upholstery upon the chairs, sofa, and divan; marble-topped tables polished to a high shine; brass lamps and candleholders set about the room. The suite was brightened by their glow, and the fire that had been lit by the bellman was now crackling in the hearth. A gilded mirror hung above the marble mantelpiece and reflected large windows covered with heavy, floor-length drapes that kept out the cold. The women took it all in silently for a moment.

“We are here,” Evie finally said. “We are really here!” She paused and took a breath. “I have to confess something, Cassie.”

Cassandra started to speak but Evie cut her off.

“I am a little nervous that I will not pass for white.”

Cassandra had not even considered it. “So far,” she began, “I think you are absolutely passing, because I did not see any hesitation from the desk clerk. Tomorrow we will get more of a sense of people’s reactions, but I think it is going to be fine.” She took Evie by the hands, suddenly struck by the importance of being the young woman’s guide during their journey, maybe even a sort of mentor. She thought of what next to say to mark the momentous occasion.

“Thanks,” Evie replied quickly. She squeezed Cassandra’s hands and then let go. She stood up abruptly. “Let us see the bedrooms.”

Cassandra let the impulse for further comment pass. She stood and followed Evie through a doorway to the left. The bellman had deposited Cassandra’s bags there, in a charming room furnished with a canopied bed in a light-green floral print, a large armoire, a small writing desk and a dresser, all of shining walnut. A door led from the bedroom into the bathroom, literally a room for bathing only. An elegantly shaped copper tub dominated the space, which also contained a chair, a small stand for soap, and a standing rack for the large drying sheets that served as towels.

Cassandra examined the two arced faucets of the tub. “We got lucky,” she said. “There is hot and cold running water.”

“I cannot believe it. I did not think we would be able to do much bathing.”

“Neither did I. But the Croton Aqueduct System was finished about ten years ago, which means that the better homes and hotels in New York have running water, though it may not be very efficient.”

“It is better than nothing.”

They continued through the bathroom into the other bedroom, similar to the first, except that the furniture was of cherry and the fabric of the canopied bed white eyelet.

“Oh!” Evie gasped.

“Which one do you like best?”

“This one is perfect! It is nothing like the rooms we stayed in last night in this very same hotel. This place certainly has changed a lot over the centuries.”

“My room was a fraction of the size and mostly all bed.”

Evie approached another doorway next to which sat a low cabinet with a ceramic pitcher of water, a large bowl, and a dish of soap. “This must be—” she began as she opened the door.

“Yes,” Cassandra smirked.

“…the water closet. It is actually pretty clean.” She turned a ceramic crank and a trickle of water ran into the pot and then down through the large hole at the bottom. “It flushes! Sort of.”

“Better than nothing,” Cassandra echoed.

A knock sounded at the outer door, and Cassandra and Evie went together to answer it. There stood a maid with a heavy-looking tray of food.

“Please, come in,” Cassandra said to her.

The middle-aged woman walked through the sitting room into the dining area and placed the tray on the oval wooden table. Around it were six, straight-backed chairs with dark-red, brocade seats. There was one large window in the room, with curtains of dark-red velvet, now closed. Upon the tray sat a teapot, a pitcher of milk, a sugar bowl, two delicate china cups on saucers, and a variety of dishes covered with linen cloths. The maid proceeded to uncover the dishes and set out the cups.