“Happy birthday, Grandmama,” Jo said, forcing brightness into her voice. “And many happy returns.” Jo handed the older woman a pretty white box with a blue bow. Grandmama opened it and was delighted by what it contained: a silver pin in the shape of a spaniel.
“Thank you, Josephine. It’s beautiful,” she said.
“I hope you received some lovely gifts today,” Jo offered woodenly.
“I did. But not what I wanted most.”
“And what was that?” Jo asked.
Grandmama looked pointedly at Bram. “A great-grandson.”
Bram smiled tightly. “Let’s get some punch, Jo,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to the refreshments table. Cold dishes of every sort had been laid out, from which people helped themselves. There was a glazed ham, tomato aspic, several roasted chickens, pickled vegetables, salads, cheeses, and fruit compote.
“I’m sorry about that,” Bram said as he poured a glass of punch for Jo. “We’d hoped for good behavior from Grandmama today, but no such luck.”
Jo barely heard him. She’d barely heard Grandmama. Her aunt and uncle came over, beaming, to compliment her dress. She smiled and thanked them. She drank the punch. And all the while, she felt like a puppet. As if someone else were pulling the strings that made her head nod and her mouth smile.
A poor, foolish girl, her uncle had said some days ago, talking about a girl a reporter was using to get a story. That was her—the most foolish of girls.
She’d trusted Eddie, fallen in love with him, considered giving up her life and everyone in it for him, and all the while, he’d only been using her to get a story. And he hadn’t even waited until he had the story before he’d moved on to another girl. Anger smoldered inside her now, pushing aside the sadness.
“Let’s find a chair and listen to the music,” Bram said, leading her to the drawing room.
As she walked alongside him, past flickering candles, flowers, friends in gorgeous dresses, servants with crystal glasses on silver trays, a realization broke over her like an ice-cold wave. She’d come so close to stepping off the cliff, to making the biggest mistake of her life—one that would have cost her this fine and beautiful world and everyone in it.
They sat down on chairs that had been scattered around the edge of the dance floor, and Jo realized her feelings were visible on her face, because Bram took her hand and squeezed it.
“Leave it behind for a few hours, Jo,” he said. “The sadness and the grief. I don’t want to see any frowns on that pretty face tonight, only smiles.”
He’s always so kind, Jo thought, looking at him. So good. So constant.
He let go of her hand then, but she held his fast. “Bram,” she said, her voice catching.
“Yes?”
Kiss me, she wanted to say. Put your arms around me and hold me close and kiss me. Fill up my heart and my head like Eddie did. Make me want you, not him. Make me forget him. If only for an instant.
“Yes, Jo?”
“I just, well … I wanted to say thank you.”
Bram looked at her with a quizzical expression. “For what?” he asked.
“For always being so incredibly good,” she said with feeling.
He laughed, clearly uncomfortable. Emotion of any sort always made him awkward. “Don’t be silly,” he said, turning to the musicians.
He pulled his hand free. Jo folded her hands in her lap and sat very still, a smile plastered on her face, all the while tormenting herself with memories of Eddie’s every kiss, of the way her skin tingled when he touched her, of his warmth, his scent, the sound of his voice. She hated him with a passion now, but she still wanted him with all her heart.
The musicians played on. And then, after half an hour, they stopped. Grandmama was brought forth, protesting the whole while, and a cake was carried out. After a song had been sung and the candles blown out, everyone watched Lolly the spaniel get the first slice.
“I think it will be some time before we get our slices,” Bram observed dryly. “There are five more dogs to be fed.” And then, all in a rush, he said, “I’m tired of sitting. My mother has a new orchid. It’s purple. She’s given it pride of place in the conservatory. Would you like to see it?”
“Very much,” Jo replied mechanically.
They walked out of the ballroom, down hallways, past withdrawing rooms, a smoking room, and a library, until they arrived at the conservatory. Jo spotted the brilliant orchid and immediately walked over to it.
“It’s beautiful, Bram,” she said. “The color is so pure.” She couldn’t have cared less about the orchid. She only wanted to go home and cry into her pillow. Her face was beginning to ache from the effort of keeping a fake smile in place.
“Jo, I’m afraid I brought you here under false pretenses,” Bram said. “The orchid was only a ruse.”
She turned to him, puzzled. “How very mysterious of you. A ruse for what?” she asked.
And then it hit her. She gasped. Her hands went to her mouth.
Bram, smiling, mistook her reaction for happy surprise. He went down on one knee.
“Darling Jo,” he said, pulling a diamond ring from his breast pocket. “Will you marry me?”
Jo felt as if there were iron bands around her chest. She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t seen this coming.
“Bram, I—I … ,” she stammered.
“Is that a yes?”
Desperate, Jo stalled for time. “I—I can’t give you my answer. I must have my mother’s permission. And my uncle’s.”
Bram smiled. “You do. I asked them both a week ago.”
Jo’s stomach twisted with terror. That was why her aunt had sent the dress. Black was not suitable for receiving a proposal, but gray was acceptable. That was why her mother had been teary in the carriage and had wished for her father to be here. Why her uncle had beamed at her. Why Clem had come to this supper. And Trudy. They’d all known what Bram was planning, yet they hadn’t consulted her, for they hadn’t seen the need. Of course she’d say yes.
“I know it’s a bit sudden,” Bram said, “but I can’t wait any longer.” He stood then, and kissed her on the lips. Lightly. Gently. As if he were afraid to break her. “I care greatly for you, Jo. We would make a splendid pair. We’ve known each other all our lives. Our minds are aligned on most things, and that’s the best foundation for a marriage, I think.”
As Jo fought down the urge to run, Bram talked on, enumerating all the strong points of his proposal, as if he were presenting a business deal. When he finished, he slid the ring on her finger.
“I hope you like it. It sparkles so brightly,” he said. “But not as brightly as you do.”
“Oh, Bram,” Jo said tearfully.
He smiled, then kissed her again. “Your mother and uncle are waiting for us. Can I give them both some happy news for a change? And Grandmama a wonderful birthday present? I think she wants you to marry me even more than I do,” he said, laughing. “Tell me, Jo, will you be my wife?”
Jo stepped out of Grace Church and onto the sidewalk.
It was a stunningly beautiful day, crisp and sunny, with a fierce blue sky, though Jo barely noticed. For the past week, she’d moved as if in a trance.
She was wearing a new gray suit, trimmed with black braid, and carrying a mink muff. Her mother, at Grandmama’s urging, had continued to allow Jo to wear less severe mourning attire. The suit had arrived from the dressmaker’s yesterday and was a bit snug, but Katie had pulled her corset so tight this morning that it now fit perfectly. Jo couldn’t breathe all that well, but that didn’t matter. If she allowed herself to breathe, to feel, to listen to what her heart was trying to tell her, she would come apart.
What have you done? You don’t love Bram, it said a thousand times a day. Why did you do it?
To make my family happy, she would reply, trying to hush
it. Because it’s expected of me. Because Bram’s right, we understand each other. Because he wants me, at least. And Eddie doesn’t.
Eddie’s betrayal had done more than wound her; it had broken her, heart and soul. To care for someone as much as she cared for him, she’d learned, was dangerous. It was better to marry someone whom you didn’t care for too much. That way, he could never cause you so much pain.
“That was a fine sermon! A fine sermon indeed!” said elderly Mr. DeWitt to the Reverend Willis, who was shaking hands with his parishioners.
“Wonderful, Reverend, just wonderful,” said Mrs. Newbold. “Ah, Josephine! There you are, my dear! I heard the news. You’ll be the most beautiful bride in New York. Bram is a very lucky man.”
Jo smiled and nodded and thanked Mrs. Newbold, just as she’d been thanking scores of other well-wishers. She’d accepted Bram’s proposal a week ago, and already most of the city, if not the entire state, knew they were engaged, thanks to Grandmama. The wedding was planned for June. By that time she would be past the six months of mourning observed by a daughter for a parent.
Jo looked for her mother and spotted her talking with some Livingstons. She was still wearing her full widow’s mourning, including a black bonnet and veil. Jo didn’t want to hear any more good wishes on her engagement, so she decided to wait for her mother in their carriage.
As she started toward it, though, she felt a tug on her hand. She turned and saw a fetching brunette, elegantly turned out in blue silk.
“Fay?” she said, surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” Fay replied tersely. She was smiling, inclining her head, looking for all the world like another member of Grace’s upper-crust congregation.
“But how did you know I’d be here?” Jo asked.
Fay rolled her eyes. “Where else would Miss Josephine Montfort of Gramercy Square be on a Sunday morning?” she asked. She glanced around and, in a lower voice, added, “Look, I can’t stand here smiling like a jackass all day. I found Kinch.”
Jo blinked.
“That’s it? A blink?” Fay whispered. “I said I found Kinch. What’s with you, anyway? You look like you just stumbled out of a Mott Street opium den.”
“I got engaged. I suppose it produces a similar effect.”
“Damn.” Fay looked up, directly at Jo. “Who to?”
“Bram Aldrich.”
“I had my money on Eddie.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ve lost it,” Jo said, her heart aching at the mention of Eddie’s name.
“Listen to me, Jo, snap out of whatever funk you’re in. Your man Kinch was hard to find, but I’ve found him. This might be your only chance to talk to him.”
Jo nodded and a bit of spirit came trickling back into her veins.
“He’s in a boardinghouse on Pitt Street. Number Sixteen. I spotted him late last night on Canal Street and followed him. It’s a rough place. Don’t go there alone. Get Eddie.”
Jo took a deep breath, her ribs straining against her corset. “Does the Tailor know? Does the man with the scarred face?” she asked.
“If they do, I didn’t tell them.”
“Josephine?” a voice interrupted.
“That’s my mother,” Jo said without turning around. “Thank you, Fay. I’m in your debt.”
“I’ll take a pack of Duke’s at your earliest convenience,” said Fay. Then she smiled prettily and moved off.
“Come along,” Anna said, stepping up beside her. “I’m ready to go.”
“Mama, would you mind terribly if Dolan took you home and then took me to the park?” Jo asked, feverishly working out a way to get to Pitt Street. “It’s such a fine morning. I’d love to get some fresh air.”
“A walk in the park! What a capital idea!” It was Uncle Phillip. He was suddenly at their side, with Aunt Madeleine and Caroline close behind him.
No! Jo thought.
“Let’s all go,” Jo’s aunt said brightly. She took Anna’s hand. “I know you’re in mourning, but no one will begrudge you a bit of air. It’s Central Park, not Mr. Barnum’s circus.”
Anna hesitated. Jo silently urged her to decline.
“Do come,” Phillip said. “This has been such a sad time for us all, but now Jo’s given this family happiness again. You must share in it, too.”
Finally, Anna relented. “You’re right as always, Phillip,” she said, smiling. “Let’s go.”
“Splendid!” Phillip said. “Our carriage is just ahead of yours. Perhaps the Aldriches would like to join us.”
“I’ll ask them,” Madeleine said, moving off to find Grandmama.
Anna walked to the carriages with Caroline, and Phillip walked with Jo. He gave her a conspiratorial smile and Jo smiled back, though it killed her. He meant well. He’d heard her ask to go to the park and had sought to help her, but she didn’t want to go to the blasted park! She’d meant to have Dolan drop her off, and as soon as he was gone, take a cab to Eddie’s, then continue with him to Pitt Street, where they could confront Kinch. And what was she doing instead? Promenading! She wanted to scream with frustration.
Eddie had not contacted her since the Aldriches’ party, and she’d certainly made no effort to contact him. The thought of going to him, of actually seeing him in person, was painful in the extreme, but she didn’t know what else to do. Fay was right. She couldn’t go after Kinch alone
“Was that a new friend?” Phillip asked, interrupting Jo’s thoughts. “I haven’t seen her at church before.”
“Who?” Jo asked distractedly.
“The young woman you were speaking with. A few moments ago.”
“You must mean Miss Pitt. I only just met her,” Jo fibbed as they arrived at their carriages. “I stepped on her hem and had to apologize to her. She’s from Philadelphia. She’s visiting for the weekend.”
“Philadelphia? Would her family be the Horace Pitts or the Morrison Pitts?”
“She didn’t say, Uncle Phillip.”
Phillip frowned and was about to ask her another question when Madeleine rejoined them.
“The Aldriches will follow us to the park,” she announced. “I’m afraid the dogs will be joining us,” she added. “Grandmama’s got them in the carriage. I’m surprised she didn’t bring them into the church.”
“I’m sure she tried,” Jo’s mother said, suppressing a smile. She turned to Dolan, who was holding the door for her. “The park, please, Dolan. Bethesda Terrace.”
Dolan helped her in, then Jo, and then he climbed back into his seat, cracked his whip, and set off for the park. Phillip, Madeleine, and Caroline were right behind them. The Aldriches brought up the rear.
“Maddie’s right. It’ll be good to get some air,” her mother said, smiling. “We’ll have a lovely stroll, all of us. Family and family-to-be. Won’t we, Jo?”
“Yes, lovely,” Jo said, smiling back.
Her voice was even, her expression calm, but inside her mink muff, her hands were knotted into fists.
Mrs. Byrne, Eddie’s landlady, looked Jo up and down.
It was quite clear from the expression on her face that she thought Jo was a shameless, scheming hussy bent on ensnaring Eddie and depriving her of a boarder.
“Sorry, miss,” she sniffed. “I have no idea where Mr. Gallagher is.”
“Please, Mrs. Byrne. It’s imperative I find him,” Jo said.
It was late, nearly ten o’clock at night. She’d wheedled Katie into changing places with her again and had arrived at Eddie’s boardinghouse moments ago, only to be told he wasn’t in.
“Oh? And why’s that?” Mrs. Byrne asked, folding her arms over her large bosom.
“It concerns a lead for a story he’s working on. An important story,” Jo said. “I should hate to be the one who cost him that lead,” she added.
Worry flickered in Mrs. Byrne’s eyes. “He’s down the street,” she said, relenting. “At Jimmy Mac’s saloon.”
Jo thanked her and dashed off. She had no trouble finding Jimmy Mac’s; she heard the music from a block away. As she stepped inside, the smell of sweat, smoke, and beer hit her. The room was crowded and hot. People were shouting. Men in threadbare jackets and women in faded, ill-fitting dresses were drinking and laughing.
Across the room, a young black man hammered out a cakewalk tune, jangling and syncopated, on a battered upright piano. His talented hands flew across the keys. Dancers whooped and shouted as he played, their boot heels pounding against the plank floor. Jo had only been in one other bar before: Mick Walsh’s dingy dive, where the patrons were bent on drinking themselves to death. Jimmy Mac’s was nothing like that. It was bright, lively, and loud.
Jo searched the crowd for Eddie. Her traitorous heart leapt as she spotted him leaning against the bar. He was wearing his denim shirt and a tweed vest. His sleeves were rolled up. She could see a bit of his bare chest peeking through his open collar. His dark hair, wavy and thick, fell across his forehead. And his blue eyes were crinkled in laughter at whatever the man next to him had just said.
God, but he’s handsome, Jo thought. Handsome and heartless and cruel.
Eddie looked up just then. His eyes found hers and widened in surprise. He cocked his head questioningly. Jo made her way to him, pushing through the crowd.
“You’re very flushed, Miss Montfort. Have you been dancing?” he asked, when she reached him.
“No, I—” Jo began to say, but he cut her off.
“Would you like to?” he asked in a mocking tone. “The piano man’s playing ‘Good Enough.’ One of my favorites. Ironic, no?” He smiled, feigning regret, then said, “Ah, but you can’t dance with me, can you? You’re betrothed now, and I doubt Mr. Aldrich would approve. All the best on your engagement, by the way. I read about it in the papers.”
His tone was still mocking, but his smile was bitter.
Anger flared inside Jo. You have no right to be bitter, she wanted to say. You have someone else. You were only using me.
These Shallow Graves Page 27
