The only dissenter, in fact the only person who received an invitation but deliberately absented himself, was Lord Harleston.
“I am damned if I will make a fool of myself to please the Prince of Wales or anybody else for that matter,” he had told Robert. “Could anything be more ridiculous than a lot of grown men dressed up like ninnies, prancing about with wigs on their heads!”
“Where is your sense of fun?” Robert had asked him mockingly.
“Fun? Do you call that fun?” Lord Harleston snorted. “I would rather roll about on the grass on Hampstead Heath with a pretty girl.”
Robert laughed.
“Who would not?”
Now to Lord Harleston’s dismay Alva Vanderbilt had said,
“I visualise you as Sir Galahad or perhaps you would prefer to be Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. You would look so handsome, Selby, in either costume.”
Lord Harleston made it quite clear that unfortunately he could not play either role.
“It’s very sad, Mrs. Vanderbilt, after you have been so kind,” he stated, “but I have an urgent appointment to meet a friend in Denver and will have to leave tomorrow morning.”
Mrs. Vanderbilt gave a shrill shriek of protest and despair.
“But you cannot. It’s impossible!” she declared. “I have arranged this ball especially for you!”
“It’s more disappointing than I can possibly say,” he replied, “but unfortunately my delightful visit to your father-in-law has to come to an end.”
Alva Vanderbilt was a determined, intelligent, unhappily married woman, who had no other outlet except her social ambitions.
She always had her way with her family because she wore them down, but with Lord Harleston she had met her match.
He left just as great pots of flowers in huge vanloads were being carried into the ballroom to provide a background for the ponderous and costly supper that was to be served by impeccably trained servants in maroon livery.
Thinking of the profusion of Dresden shepherdesses and shepherds, Portias and Venetian Princesses, pierrots and highwaymen who would be capering round the ballroom to the strains of a hundred violins, Lord Harleston settled down in his drawing room in the sleeping car for the long journey to Denver with a sigh of relief.
“I have had a lucky escape, Portman,” he told his valet as the train moved out of the Station.
“You have indeed, my Lord,” Portman replied. “I can’t see your Lordship enjoyin’ yourself dressed up and, if you asks me, them things are a dreadful waste of money!”
“That is something that never appears to trouble people in this country,” Lord Harleston remarked drily.
He felt that the Americans still had a long way to go to learn how to make the best use of their enormous and ever-increasing wealth.
As Denver was more than halfway across America, he took a long time to reach it and by then he was becoming curious about the country itself and the gold rushes that had altered the whole character of what had originally been wild cattle country and before then Indian territory.
The first excitement of gold mining had attracted men eager for the precious ore from all parts of the world to try to cash in.
Between 1859 and 1870 over twenty-seven million dollars’ worth of gold was extracted from streams and mountains in Colorado.
But the first miners had skimmed off only the surface and later had been obliged to sink deep shafts.
However the gold that was supposed to solve everybody’s problems was not as easy to find as had been supposed and the State became beset with poverty.
The Indians had chosen this time to stage a revolt against the white man’s intrusion into their lands and, although a good number of peace moves were attempted by the whites, the situation grew increasingly worse.
In the literature that he could find on the situation, Lord Harleston learned that by 1864 Indian attacks on the freighting roads grew increasingly frequent and ranchers and farmers were murdered and scalped in surprise raids.
But by now things had begun to settle down because the railways had been developed and, while this was being hailed jubilantly, silver and lead were discovered and once again Colorado began to expand.
It did this very quickly and the population trebled and quadrupled while the railroads created new towns and encouraged the establishment of agricultural settlers.
Because Lord Harleston liked to be knowledgeable about anything that he was involved in, he read everything he had with him about the financial situation in Colorado and found himself extremely interested, although he had not expected to be, in the development of mining apart from his own personal investment in cattle.
‘While I am here I might as well see everything,’ he mused.
He learned, which he had not known before, that the discovery of rich carbonates of lead and silver ores in the mountains close to Leadville had led to an enormous rush of miners and speculators to the district two years ago and which was still continuing full blast.
He was not certain what he expected to find in Denver, because his reading had now given him an entirely different idea of what the place might be like from what he had previously expected.
But at least, he ruminated, it might be more amusing than he had anticipated and he began to make a list of the stories he would relate to Robert when he returned home.
He also thought it was a pity that he and Robert could not have been exploring together as they had done many times in the past.
Then there had always been situations that amused them both, which would keep them laughing, and even the dullest party or the longest of journeys would seem less arduous and certainly less dreary because they were together.
‘Perhaps his father will die and he will be able to come out to me after the funeral,’ Lord Harleston thought optimistically.
Then he realised that, after hours of driving over flat barren country with little sign of human habitation, he was nearing the City of Denver.
As it was cloudy, there was no sign of the Rocky Mountains, which he knew could not be far away since Denver was a mining centre.
That it was spoken of as a place that was unusual and definitely interesting made Lord Harleston glad that his long journey was coming to an end.
At Denver he had arranged to meet a man who would show him the cattle that he had invested his money in as a great number of other British people had done.
The Prairie Cattle Company was entirely British financed and he had already learned that British Companies were now speculating in the Colorado mines.
‘I shall think twice before I do it too,’ Lord Harleston decided.
He had read so much about the seams that had petered out and the men who had been tricked out of their claims or murdered because they had been successful, that he was not prepared to gamble on something that had to be taken on trust and which could not be proved until the digging had finished.
Now, as if even that prospect began to pale on him, he thought,
‘I don’t intend to stay here long and I must begin to think about where I shall go next. God knows the country is big enough for me to have a wide choice.’
Even as he thought of it, he suddenly felt depressed because his thoughts kept returning to what was happening in England.
Tomorrow, although he had forgotten it until this moment, the Derby would be run at Epsom and, if his horse did win, which he confidently expected, he would not be there to lead him into the Winners Enclosure.
“Blast and curse all women!” he exclaimed out loud as the train puffed slowly and purposefully, black smoke belching out of its funnel, into Denver Station.
Chapter Three
As Lord Harleston stepped out of the train, he was relieved to find a tall good-looking young man waiting for him with outstretched hands.
“You must be Lord Harleston,” he began. “I’m Waldo Sheridan Altman Junior. Just call me ‘Waldo’. I’ve come to welcome you on behalf of my father.”
“
How do you do.”
“I hope you’ve had a good journey,” Waldo went on. “My father was notified by your Lordship’s secretary that you were coming to Denver and we’ve also received a telegram from Mr. William Henry Vanderbilt instructing us to look after you.”
He was obviously considerably impressed by this recommendation and his voice held quite a reverent note in it as he spoke of the great man and this amused Lord Harleston.
They proceeded outside the Station to find two open carriages and, without waiting for Portman, who was being assisted with the luggage by one of Mr. Altman’s men, Lord Harleston set off with Waldo Altman at his side.
He guessed that the young man was about twenty-four years of age and was obviously very conscious that he had been put in charge of a celebrity in his father’s absence.
He was also anxious to impress him with Denver and what had been achieved in the City.
Lord Harleston thought that Denver was extraordinary considering where it was situated.
He had not expected a massive Gothic style copied from the Cathedrals of Europe or the flat roofs, loggias and cupolas of Italy.
He had learned already that it was the largest City in the State of Colorado not only from a mining point of view but also as a principal stage and freighting post.
As they drove on and he could see that Denver’s architecture owed its inspiration to Romanesque, Greek, Moorish and Oriental styles, he could only think that it was certainly unique and undoubtedly often fantastic.
While he was looking, Waldo was talking.
“My father wants to invite you to come out to his Ranch as soon as you’ve seen enough of Denver.”
“I should much enjoy it,” Lord Harleston replied. “I am only sorry that nowadays one cannot see the buffalo that were there in such profusion in the past.”
“I agree,” Waldo nodded. “There are a few of them left, but the great herds were slaughtered and exterminated in the most outrageous fashion. Now you’ll see so many cattle you’ll never want to eat meat again!”
He laughed as he spoke and, because he was young and seemed full of the joys of life, Lord Harleston laughed too.
“First, my Lord, you have to see Denver,” Waldo continued. “And I think we’ll have some surprises for you.”
Lord Harleston wondered what they would be, when at that very moment as the carriage turned into what was obviously the City’s main street, he saw coming towards him a four-in-hand driven by a woman.
Besides her and on top of the coach there were six other very attractive young women dressed elegantly but flamboyantly, two of them holding small lace-trimmed sunshades over their heads.
It was such a surprising sight that Lord Harleston stared in silence and, as the four-in-hand drew nearer, he saw that the woman driving was exceptionally attractive and so were the other passengers.
“Who is that? ” he asked.
Waldo chuckled.
“I thought they’d surprise you.”
“They do indeed and the woman driving is obviously extremely experienced with the reins.”
He thought as he spoke that he could not remember when he had last seen a woman driving a four-in-hand.
The woman he was looking at had large dark eyes, a mass of black hair, besides crimson lips and mascaraed eyelashes.
As the two carriages passed each other, he was aware that the women on top of it were obviously either actresses or belonged to a still older profession.
They were laughing and, as they waved to Waldo, who obviously knew them and waved back, they made a very pretty picture, which was certainly something that Lord Harleston had not expected to find in Denver.
“See you this evening, Waldo!” one of the women called out.
“That’s a date, Bessie!”
Then the vehicles had passed each other and Lord Harleston looked at his companion for an explanation.
“I don’t know whether you have heard of ‘The Row’ in Denver?” Waldo asked as they drove on.
“The Row?” Lord Harleston questioned.
“I guess that’s a Westerner’s description of it,” Waldo said. “You’d call it ‘the Red Light district’.”
“That is what I guessed,” Lord Harleston admitted, “but I have not heard it called ‘The Row’ before.”
“We also speak of it as ‘The Line’,” Waldo informed him. “It’s the street where the parlour houses, cribs, variety halls, saloons and gambling dens are congregated.”
“They certainly advertise themselves very cleverly,” Lord Harleston commented drily.
“It was Jenny Rogers’s idea to drive her ‘goods’ around the town and as you’ve guessed she’s an expert with a horse whether she is driving or riding it.”
“I thought that.”
“She only came here last year and before that she was known as the most beautiful ‘madam’ in St. Louis.”
Lord Harleston’s eyes twinkled.
“Then I presume Denver thinks it is lucky to have her.”
“You bet we do,” Waldo agreed. “She’s given The Row class and, when I take you to her house in Market Street, I’ll wager you’ll not find better in Paris or any other City in Europe.”
Lord Harleston was about to say that he had no wish to visit a brothel, knowing very well that they usually bored him.
Then he thought that not only would he sound pompous but he might as well see what Denver’s entertainments were, although he had certainly not expected anyone as attractive as Jenny Rogers.
Because he thought he would be interested, Waldo began to explain the arrangements in Denver for the men who flocked there from the mountains or came in from the Prairies.
As it was all so different from what Lord Harleston knew occurred either in London or Paris, he listened intently to Waldo.
“Because we’re a new town,” Waldo was saying, “the parlour houses and the cribs are generally side by side in the same block, but you’ll find, my Lord, the crib layout in the Colorado mountains is usually a frame building where a door and one window leads onto the street.”
He paused and, as Lord Harleston did not say anything, he added,
“They are cheap and ghastly, but you will see the crib girls at night dressed in low-cut, short-skirted dancehall gowns leaning out of the windows and luring in the customers!”
“There are, I imagine, a large number in every mining town,” Lord Harleston remarked.
“Of course,” Waldo answered, “but the Denver parlour houses provide us with our real entertainment.”
Lord Harleston raised his eyebrows wondering what this would be and Waldo explained,
“The best houses have two or three drawing rooms, each with a piano, and also a ballroom for dancing. What’s more some have banquet rooms and the food’s better than you’ll get at the hotels.”
Lord Harleston looked surprised and Waldo went on,
“There’re two really smart houses in this town. One belongs to Mattie Silks, who was the reigning Queen of ‘The Row’ before Jenny came along and now she’s having her nose put out of joint.”
Waldo would obviously have said more if at that moment they had not arrived at a surprisingly large and impressive building, which, he explained, is his father’s house.
Lord Harleston saw that it boasted features from a French Château combined with a Cathedral spire and chimneys like triumphal arches.
“I hope we’ll be able to make you comfortable, my Lord.”
“I am sure you will,” Lord Harleston replied, “and I shall look forward to meeting your father.”
Then he asked Waldo,
“You have not told me if your mother will be here.”
“No, she’ll be at the ranch with Pa and as we’ll be here on our own we can enjoy ourselves.”
He looked at Lord Harleston quickly as he spoke to see if he thought that this sounded too familiar and then reassured he carried on,
“Pa and Ma won’t approve of my showing you the gaieties of De
nver like Jenny Rogers, but I can’t believe your Lordship wants to spend hours talking to the Councillors and hearing how they’re improving the sewers!”
“God forbid!” Lord Harleston exclaimed and they both laughed.
The inside of the Altmans’ mansion was as fantastic as the exterior with a profusion of pot plants, velvet hangings festooned with fringes, statues and pictures that made Lord Harleston shudder, although the Oriental carpets and much of the furniture were surprisingly good.
He realised that Denver’s citizens were attempting to build up a new Society in a place that only a short while ago had been an open desert.
Since they had first started they had endured a disastrous fire, which had burned down the original houses and the camps set up by the first settlers, and this was followed the next year by a devastating flood.
It was amazing that so much had been achieved and from his reading Lord Harleston had learned that new arrivals were pouring into Colorado at the rate of over five thousand a week.
“I know you have new silver mines at Leadville,” he remarked.
“We certainly have,” Waldo replied, “and millionaires are being created overnight.”
Lord Harleston looked interested.
“Tabor, a general storekeeper whom I know quite well,” Waldo went on, “grub-staked two prospectors for about sixty-four dollars. They found the Little Pittsburgh mine when silver ore fetched two hundred dollars a ton. The storekeeper began investing in other mines and is now Colorado’s Silver King. After being Mayor of Leadville, he is now Lieutenant Governor of the State.”
“That is certainly quick work!” Lord Harleston laughed. “Have you been gambling in the same way?”
“I promised my father to keep my money in cattle,” Waldo replied. “Equally I shouldn’t be tempted to keep all my eggs in one basket.”
“I am sure that is wise.”
It struck Lord Harleston that the same applied to him and, while he was here, he might try to make some money in the mines as well as with cattle.
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