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.
“If you do not mind,” said Cassandra stepping forward. “We shall serve ourselves. Thank you very much.”
“Of course,” the tired-looking woman responded, not meeting her eyes. “Just ring the bell if ya’ need anything.” She indicated a satin rope hanging on the wall.
Cassandra slipped her a coin from her pocket and the women walked heavily out the door.
Evie eyed the food. Arranged on the various plates were slices of cold roast beef and ham, triangles of cheese, a basket of rolls, bowls of relish, pickles, nuts, and dried fruit, and a dish of butter.
“I am a little afraid of the meat,” said Evie. “Without refrigeration—”
“Well, they probably have an icebox in the kitchen, literally a food storage cupboard with ice in it, and usually hotels and the better homes have cellars that stay cool even into the summer months.”
“Nevertheless, I do not trust that roast beef. I think I will stick with the ham, because at least it is smoked.”
She began to put together a sandwich.
“Well, I am not worried about the meat. I never had bad luck with spoiled food on my last journey.” Cassandra speared a few slices of roast beef, along with some ham, and chose a selection of the other items on the table.
Evie daintily bit into her ham and cheese placed between two halves of a roll with butter.
Cassandra sampled each thing individually. “How is your sandwich?”
“Good…the roll is a little hard.”
“I am sure they are left over from this morning.”
“How do you like it?”
“It is pretty good, the ham’s better than the roast beef.” Cassandra had taken only one bite of the grisly meat. “And the cheese is delicious!”
“Yes, it is different.”
“You do not like it?”
“No, I do, I am just not used to it.”
“You are not used to food being so natural, so fresh,” remarked Cassandra.
“Really? Is that it? Because it doesn’t exactly taste fresh.”
“It is just not pasteurized, like the milk.” She poured tea for them both, then added a generous helping of the milk to her own cup. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you.”
To Cassandra, the formal speech they used seemed strange now that it was just the two of them. And yet, she knew it was the way people of their class spoke at the time, even if they were the closest of friends. She sampled a pickle. “Mmm! Great flavor.”
“I do not really care for pickles,” said Evie. She picked up a nut and nibbled it. “This tastes stale. I thought you said that the food was better in the past.”
I am sure it is not the gourmet fare that you are use to, Cassandra wanted to say.
“Well, it depends on when and where you are. On my trip to England, in the countryside of 1820, the food was exquisite.”
“I am going to take an anti-bacterial just to be safe.”
“I took them the first few weeks I was in 1820, but after that, I started to trust the food, and I never got sick.”
Evie pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “I think I have had enough. I am going to go change, if you do not mind. I am dying to get out of this dress.”
“I just want to have a few more bites.”
“What should we do with this tray when we are done? Put it outside the door?”
“I do not think they do that. They would have rats so fast—”
“Right. Shall I ring for the maid?”
“It is probably best.
“You go change, I will wait for her.”
“Very well, thank you.”
Cassandra stuck another bite of cheese into her mouth and then went to begin unpacking. Eventually a rap sounded on her bedroom door. Cassandra couldn’t help but smile as Evie walked in, dressed in her white, cotton nightgown with long, puffy sleeves, the flounced hem trailing on the floor, her untamed curls set free.
“These nightgowns are so beautiful,” the young woman remarked as if reading Cassandra’s thoughts. “It almost seems a shame just to sleep in them.”
Cassandra laughed. “Are you going to bed?”
“Well, I will probably read for a while. What about you?”
“I am going to do a little more unpacking, and then I will probably read too.”
“What book did you bring?”
Cassandra fished a night cap out of her suitcase. “The Pathfinder, by Cooper.”
“Oh, maybe I can read it when you are done.”
“Actually, I am finding it a little hard to get through. What did you bring?”
“Persuasion.”
Cassandra smiled. “My favorite. Is it your first time?” She adjusted the cap over her hair.
“Yes. I have read her others but not this one.”
“I envy you. I wish there was one of Austen’s books that I had not yet read.”
“I only brought with me this one. Can we buy other books while we are here?”
“Of course. There is no problem buying things in this time and bringing them into the future. It is like having an instant antique.”
“Good to know.”
“But do not get carried away. Remember, we have to fit everything back in these bags when we go home.” She glanced in the mirror and laughed. “Oh goodness, I look like a little old lady in this thing!”
“No, you do not, but I could not bring myself to wear mine. I just wanted to get my hair out of that bun.”
“I want to avoid having to do it all over again in the morning.”
“Oh, I did not think of that.” She gazed around the room. “So what should we do tomorrow?”
“Why don’t we decide in the morning?”
“What about All Angels?”
“I just do not know if we want to do it on our first day.”
“No? Why not? After all, it is a Sunday, and Reverend Williams and his granddaughter ar
e certain to be there.”
“Well, that is true; however, they will be busy with the service. I think it would be best to go on Monday when they are not otherwise occupied and can give us their full attention.”
“It is just that I am so excited to meet my ancestors, I can hardly wait!”
“I understand. But if we take a day to acclimate ourselves, you know, walk around, get to know the city a little bit, and practice interacting with people, we will feel more confident when we finally do meet them. It is important that we do not make mistakes, and yet we are bound to. It would be better to make a mistake with a stranger than with those with whom we want to make the best impression, don’t you think?” She watched Evie’s face cloud over.
“Sure, if you say so.”
“You need to trust my judgment on this Evie. I know what I am doing.”
“Yes, of course.” She seemed to force a smile. “Well, goodnight.”
“Listen, if you want to take a bath in the morning, go ahead. I will take one the next day. We should probably alternate.”
“Oh, very well, thank you.” She walked toward the door.
“See you in the morning. Oh Evie, one more thing. Did you use the bug powder?”
Evie turned back and looked at her in horror. “Do you think I should?”
“Well, you never know.”
“Do you think there are bedbugs?”
“I am afraid it is possible, even in a nice place.”
“Ugh!” Evie shuddered.
“The bug powder will take care of them though, and any other little friend that might decide to wander in like fleas, roaches—”
“I get it!”
“Here, like this.” Cassandra removed a small packet of folded paper from a pouch in her suitcase. She carefully unfolded it and blew into the air. The particles dissolved immediately from view. “That’s it.”
“That will kill anything?”
“Yes. And prevent anything else from getting in. You should have several packages in your bag.”
“I will do it now. Goodnight, again.”
“Goodnight. Sleep well.”
Cassandra cleared the things off the bed before beginning her ritual that included special facial cleansers and creams. She brushed her teeth with a nineteenth century replica toothbrush and tooth powder, and finally climbed into the sheets. She noted they were a little musty smelling. Probably no one had used the suite in a while, but they looked and felt clean. She propped herself up with the pillows as close to the candle as possible and read for a much shorter time than she had planned before extinguishing the flame, and falling into a deep sleep.
Around one AM, she awoke with an ache in her stomach. She had neglected to take the anti-bacterial and she knew she was about to be sorry. Praying that there was a chamber pot under the bed, she dove over the side and fished around underneath, struggling to keep it all down for one more second. Her hand found the pot just in time. She dragged it out from underneath and immediately threw up. She fell back into the sheets gasping and moaning. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had thrown up. In her world, illness had been overcome to the extent that such a reaction was indeed a rare occurrence.
She felt a little better. She heaved herself out of bed and grabbed hold of the candlestick, then stumbled over to the fireplace and lit the candle in the dying embers. She went to the dresser and fumbled around amongst her toiletries to find a little, antique-looking bottle of pills. Having no glass, she picked up the pitcher near the water closet and washed the anti-bacterial tablet down with a great swig, worrying that the water was no better than the tainted meat. She prayed it would stay down long enough to do its magic, but it only took a moment. The pills were designed through nano-technology to work immediately, and she felt better right away.
She took a deep breath. Now she had a foul-smelling pot to deal with. She took it into the water closet and flushed its contents down, washed it out with water from the pitcher, and flushed it down again. She sighed. Everything was so much more complicated in the distant past. She decided she’d better avail herself of the natural but powerful sleep tonic she’d brought along. She went back to the dresser and found among its contents the bottle that resembled perfume and a dropper. She applied the elixir to her wrists, took the candle back to her bedside, blew it out, and settled in. In less than a minute, she was sound asleep.
*****
Evie awoke in the morning to the clatter of wooden wheels on cobblestone. She opened her eyes and saw the bright sunshine peeking in from behind the drapes and felt the chilly air on her nose. She picked up the small pendant watch she had placed on the nightstand the evening before. It was seven o’clock. She wondered what time church started. She reluctantly threw off the thick down cover and gingerly placed a toe on the cold floor. With determination, she tiptoed over to one of her bags and opened it, removed the dressing gown, put it on, and quickly tied it closed. She then extracted a pair of woolen stockings, put them on her icy feet, and ventured into the water closet.
Once seated, she reflected that it wasn’t as pleasant as it had appeared last night. It was cold, dark and rather smelly. She began to wonder in earnest about the level of cleanliness in the hotel, or any place in antebellum New York. How thoroughly did the maid scrub this thing, she wondered, and when was the last time? Since the last guest had left? She had no way to know. Next to the bowl on which she was seated was a stack of newspaper, left there, she reasoned, for two obvious purposes. She opened the door a crack so she could see to do a little reading, but there still wasn’t enough light. She did notice a tiny shelf in the corner at about shoulder level, and figured it was for a candle. She’d plan to bring one in the next time.
After she finished using the toilet, she decided it might be a good time for a bath. Another adventure, she thought. She turned on the hot water, which issued from its own faucet. It was cold, and she figured it would need some time to warm up. She located a stopper and put it in the drain. Slowly the water warmed, gurgling and spitting from the faucet in the process. She sat down on the stool and stared at it, wondering how the pathetic trickling stream was ever going to fill the high tub.
She sighed and went back into the bedroom to finish unpacking. In the armoire, she found hooks on which to arrange her clothing and folded up whatever else she could into the drawers of the dresser, checking on the water periodically. She chose an outfit for the day: a tan, silk skirt made up of three flounced tiers, trimmed with dark-brown velvet ribbon and a matching, fan-front bodice with a high neck of white lace, and long, narrow sleeves, bordered at the wrists with the same. She laid the clothes out on the bed, along with her three petticoats, stockings, drawers, chemise, and corset, bracing herself for the task of donning the costume. She knew, however, that Shannon had designed everything to be easily put on without assistance, such as corsets that laced up the front.
Finally, the tub was full enough for her to submerge at least part of her body. She flung off her robe and nightgown, removed her stockings and drawers, and stuck a toe in. It was warm, but far from hot. Cringing, she stepped all the way into the tub, sat down, and felt goose bumps break out all over her skin. She tried to scrunch herself down into the water, but the tub was not very long, and suddenly, at five feet, six inches, she felt very tall. She knew there was no way she was going to get her hair washed, but she grabbed the soap from the nearby stand, wet it, and quickly slimed it over her body. Splashing the water up onto her arms, neck, and chest, she scrubbed herself as quickly as possible, washed as much soap off as she could, and emerged, chilly, and not feeling much cleaner than when she had started.
She grabbed a drying sheet and hastily dried, though the towel was really nothing but a discarded bed sheet and not particularly absorbent. She went into her room and, piece by piece, put on the complicated outfit.
The last part of the process meant arranging her hair. She looked around, trying to figure out how she was going to heat her ironing tool without a
lit fire and realized why Cassandra had chosen not to undo her hair the night before. They had practiced doing each other’s hair in their preparation, and she did not feel confident doing it by herself. But she smoothed it down as best she could and formed it into a low bun on the nape of her neck. She secured it with hairpins and then watched while some of the curls escaped and bounced free. She sighed and placed a tan bonnet over her hair to conceal her lack of expertise.
She quietly stepped through her own door and into the communal room, and breathed a sigh of relief that Cassandra didn’t seem to be stirring yet. Gathering up a shawl and her handbag, she tiptoed out of the suite.
In her own room, Cassandra was putting on over her full petticoats a dark-green skirt that buttoned down the front all the way to the floor. It matched a close-fitting bodice with matching buttons in the front, and had a slim, v-shaped waist. The lapels on the bodice jacket were wide, and underneath she wore a snug, white blouse with a high collar. The sleeves of the jacket had a series of openings from below the elbow to the wrists on the inner arm, allowing the blouse to peek through; an interesting detail, she thought. The green fabric was of a shimmery silk, and although the skirt wasn’t tiered, as was the common fashion of the day, the fullness was achieved from gatherings at the waist, which flowed to the ground in pretty folds, all of the edges trimmed in light green embroidery.
She expected to see Evie when she went out into the parlor, but she was not there. Figuring it was taking her longer than expected to deal with her bath and clothes, Cassandra went back into her room and adjusted her hair. She was not fond of the style: parted in the middle, and flattened down to the ears, then gathered up and arranged in carefully coifed curls that fell over her neck. She did not find it particularly flattering, but perhaps she would get used to it.
The Time Heiress Page 5
