A Gilded Grave

by Shelley Freydont

  Next came a schottische with Herbert Stanhope, a nice young man with a shock of red hair and a ready laugh. His father was one of the Boston Stanhopes; his mother was related to Henry Havemeyer, whose Sugar Trust was R and W’s arch competitor.

  Luckily, Herbert didn’t seem to be interested in sugar at all. He was entertaining and funny and didn’t take anything quite seriously. He was an enthusiastic dancer and kept her laughing through the entire song. When they finished, he offered to bring her some lemonade.

  She met Cassie near the fireplace.

  “Whew, it’s hot,” Cassie said, and fanned herself with the back of her hand.

  “Maybe we should go up and be tidied,” Deanna suggested.

  “And chance missing the fun? Not me. I wonder where Maddie is. Do you see her?”

  Deanna looked around the ballroom, but there must be two hundred people milling about. It was impossible to find anyone.

  Herbert returned with her lemonade and entertained them with nonsense until the orchestra struck up again.

  “Excuse me, ladies. I believe I have this dance with Lady Madeline.” He hurried away.

  He made a beeline across the floor, and soon they saw him swirling around the floor with Lady Madeline in his arms. Deanna also saw Charles and his father standing side by side, both watching the couple. Charles was smiling. His father said something to him, and Charles stopped smiling, bowed slightly to his father, and walked away.

  Now, what was that about? Deanna wondered.

  Joe spent the next half hour cooling his heels, waiting for a chance to dance with Deanna in order to please his grandmother and Newport society. But the one time he attempted to approach Deanna, she latched onto Herbert Stanhope like he was the crown prince. Nor was Lady Madeline ever without a partner, including Mr. Woodruff, who should have left her for younger men. Lord David was constantly dancing or holding court with the other young blades about town. The one time Joe had approached Charles, his father had trundled him off to dance with a neglected young woman.

  It was obvious he would learn nothing tonight. This had been a waste of time. The ballroom was stifling hot, and he could get nowhere near the Manchesters. He would just quietly take his leave. He skirted the dancing couples, bowing and smiling but never stopping long enough for anyone to introduce him to some poor girl who needed a partner.

  Once in the foyer, he nodded to the butler and strode out the front door before remembering that he’d arrived in a borrowed carriage. He’d be walking back to his rooms in the warehouse tonight.

  He walked down the drive, past carriages and dozing coachmen. As soon as he passed the front gates, he loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck. Not only had the evening been wasted, he’d irritated his grandmother and hurt Deanna’s feelings. He’d seen it in her face before he’d turned his back on her.

  For a moment he hesitated, deliberating whether to turn back and undo his bad manners, then looked at the tie in his hand. No. He’d go apologize tomorrow.

  Besides, what he had to say could not be said in the middle of a crowded dance floor. He would explain that what had happened at the end of last season had had nothing to do with her. He’d just have to be on his guard not to say too much. None of this was her fault.

  Joe set off down the street. He’d promised Bob that he’d watch over both the girls, though he hadn’t really believed that the flu would carry him away. Adelaide didn’t need much watching over; she was the most beautiful, most lethargic creature he’d ever known. But Deanna . . .

  It was hard to believe the sisters were from the same family. Deanna was curious, vivacious, intrepid, smart. He’d been enchanted with her from the first time Bob had brought him home on holiday from Exeter, when they were both fourteen. She had just turned seven and was such a brat.

  At ten, Adelaide already took her entry into society seriously, garnering the most attention from her mother, like any promising student would do. Deanna was left to the nursery and the care of her governess, who spent more time looking for the adventurous little sprite than actually teaching her anything. Deanna and Bob had a special rapport. Being an only child, Joe envied them.

  Now Bob was dead.

  Joe yanked the top button away from his throat and halted momentarily, as ahead of him a gate in the wall that surrounded Seacrest opened and a dark figure slipped through to the street.

  One of the maids sneaking out during an event this size? She was sure to be sacked if she was caught. The girl hesitated, looked furtively around, first left, then right in his direction. And in that brief moment, he recognized her. It was Daisy, one of the Woodruff maids, his apprentice Orrin’s sweetheart.

  “Daisy?”

  Daisy let out a squeak and cowered back into the shadows.

  “It’s Joe Ballard, Daisy. What are you doing out here? And at this time of night?”

  “Oh, Mr. Ballard, you about scared me witless.” She took a couple of quick breaths and stood still, wringing her hands while Joe closed the distance between them.

  “What’s the matter, Daisy? Surely, Mrs. Woodruff didn’t send you out on an errand this late?”

  She shook her head. “No, Mr. Ballard. I need to talk to Orrin.”

  “At this hour?”

  “It’s—it’s important. Awful important.”

  Oh Lord. Joe hoped to hell Orrin hadn’t gotten her in the family way. “Is it something that can wait until the morning, Daisy? It really isn’t safe to be out on your own.” Especially if she were planning to walk to the Fifth Ward, the denizen of working class families and angry Irish men who after too many beers spoiled for a fight and would think nothing of having their way with an unprotected young girl.

  “I know Mr. Ballard, but there’s something I—something that—” She choked back a sob.

  Joe touched her arm. “There now, Daisy. It can’t be so bad. Can’t you tell me?”

  “It’s—I don’t know. You won’t—please let me—”

  She was cut off by raucous laughter coming toward them. Two young bucks leaving the party early, as Joe had done. Probably seeking more exciting entertainment.

  Daisy shrank back into the shadows. Joe stepped in front of her.

  The men slowed down. “Is that Joe Ballard?”

  Joe recognized them as Cokey Featheringham, a dissolute younger son of a steel-mill baron, and his equally dissolute cousin Nathaniel.

  Cokey stuck his neck out of his evening wear like a turtle out of its shell. “I do believe it is. What’cha doing lurking in the shadows, Joe, my boy?” He attempted to peer around Joe’s shoulder and nearly fell over. “Ah. I see. Not ’nuff ladies in the ballroom for you?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right, heard you were taking up with the common folk down in the Fifth Ward.”

  Nathaniel grabbed Cokey’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Sorry, Ballard. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “S’what happens when men start fraternizing with the ‘footies,’ meeting the help on dark street corners. Think he’ll take her up against the wall?”

  “Shut up, Cokey,” Nathaniel said.

  “No, no. If Joe here doesn’t treat you right, just tell Cokey. I’ll show you a good time.”

  They staggered off.

  Joe turned back to Daisy. “Sorry about them. A couple of drunks with no manners and half a brain between them. And you stay away from both of them.”

  Daisy stepped away from the wall. “I know the likes of them. But they should’na talked to you like that, Mr. Ballard.”

  “They shouldn’t have talked about either of us that way, Daisy. Pay them no mind. Now go back inside. And don’t walk out by yourself again. I’ll send Orrin down in the morning.”

  “Mr. Ballard . . . ?” She bit her lip. “No. I’d best be getting back, I have to lay the fire for Mr. Woodruff’s room. He’s not well, Mr. Ballard. Nothing’s going right in
that house.”

  Joe studied the girl’s worried countenance. “I noticed he was looking pale tonight, but what else is wrong?”

  “Yes, sir, he—he . . .” Daisy shook her head. “I can’t.” She dropped an abrupt curtsey. “G’night, sir.”

  “Daisy.”

  “I can’t,” she said, and slipped back into the grounds and closed the gate.

  Joe stood for a moment to make sure she didn’t try to sneak out again. Had he missed an opportunity to find out what was going on with Francis Woodruff? Servants saw and heard a lot more than their employers realized. . . . Joe dismissed the thought. It was more likely that Daisy had problems of her own. He just hoped it wasn’t the usual problem. First thing in the morning, he would have a little talk with Orrin—assuming it wasn’t already too late.

  Deanna’s evening sped by. She was claimed for every dance, which made her feet ache but her mother happy. In between she’d slip away to gossip with Cassie while they cooled their flushed countenances with lemonade in the lady’s parlor, while Elspeth and Cassie’s maid neatened their hair and straightened out their skirts. Then it would all begin again.

  Twice Deanna shared scintillating waltzes with Lord David. He quite literally took her breath away. During the rest of the evening, she hardly saw the Manchesters except to watch Madeline float by first with Mr. Woodruff, then with Charles, and after that on the arm of one gentleman after another.

  She didn’t see Joe at all, and by midnight, when supper was served, she’d forgotten all about him. She was escorted into supper by Herbert Stanhope.

  The Woodruff dining room had been transformed into a sea of small round tables set for intimate conversations. A buffet table, so crowded that the silver chafing dishes sat almost edge to edge, lined the entirety of one wall. On another table, fresh fruit and sweets were arranged artistically around an ice sculpture that surely would melt before supper was over.

  Herbert seated Deanna at a table with Cassie and Vlady Howe, scion of the Boston Howes and the object of Cassie’s latest flirtation, before going off to the buffet to fill their plates.

  Deanna was surprised to see Charles Woodruff seating Madeline Manchester at one table while Adelaide was seated at another with Colonel Morrell, an older British gentleman staying with his son’s family in town. Adelaide looked paler than ever and bored, though Deanna couldn’t fault her for that. The colonel did tend to ramble.

  Shouldn’t Adelaide be seated next to Charles? Of course, husbands and wives usually sat with some other acquaintance at dinner—not with each other. Her father was seated at a larger table with Mrs. Woodruff and Mrs. Van Alen; her mother with Tessie Oehlrich and two gentlemen who Deanna couldn’t see.

  But Charles and Adelaide weren’t married yet. And it seemed like they’d had no time at all together this evening, what with Charles’s duties as host. Deanna felt a little sorry for her sister. It seemed to her that Charles had been paying too much attention to Madeline during the evening and not enough to his fiancée.

  The supper was delicious, with crab cakes and lobster roulade, cresses, asparagus, and boeuf anglais. Deanna let Herbert fill her champagne glass twice, though she kept in mind her mother’s admonitions not to drink or eat to excess. Dessert was a glacé of mint and tiny cakes that melted in her mouth.

  After supper, the ladies adjourned upstairs to freshen up while the men took the opportunity to have a port and a cigar or cigarette out on the terrace.

  Deanna found Cassie and Madeline already in the withdrawing room.

  “Look. I’ve torn my hem and no one can find my maid,” Madeline said.

  “I told you to watch out for Dr. Morrison,” Cassie said. “He’s notorious for stepping on his dance partner’s feet.”

  “Better my feet than my hem,” Madeline said. “What am I going to do?” She sank onto a nearby chaise.

  “I’ll send for Elspeth,” Deanna said. “She’s a dream with a needle.”

  Elspeth appeared a short time later, carrying her sewing basket.

  “Oh, you are a dear,” Madeline told Deanna, and stood for Elspeth to examine the damage.

  “Just hold still for a moment,” Elspeth said, and knelt to repair the fabric. It was only a few minutes before she stood and fluffed Lady Madeline’s skirts. “There, almost as good as new.”

  “Oh, thank you, Deanna.”

  Deanna smiled perfunctorily. “It’s Elspeth you should be thanking.”

  “Oh, yes, she was wonderful,” Madeline agreed.

  “Will there be anything else, miss?” Elspeth asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Deanna said. “I seem to still be put together.”

  Elspeth curtseyed and left the room.

  The three girls returned downstairs, where the orchestra had resumed playing and the floor was soon filled with dancing couples. The room became unbearably hot, just as Deanna’s mother had predicted.

  Between dances, Deanna stood near the French doors to catch a whiff of breeze. She was standing there when Cassie grabbed her hand. Her face was red against her pink dress.

  “It’s sweltering. Everyone’s going out to the terrace. Come with me.”

  Deanna didn’t need any persuasion. The thought of the mild ocean air had her moving through the French doors with alacrity. But once outside, she hesitated. “My mother . . .”

  “Is an old fogey. Everyone under thirty is outside. And some of the old folks are, too.” She nudged Deanna farther onto the terrace. “Whew! That’s so much better,” Cassie said, fanning her face vigorously and looking around. “I was afraid I was going to wilt. Oh, there’s Vlady Howe.” She lifted her eyebrows. “He’s even richer than Lord David.”

  She started off and Deanna followed, past a knot of gossiping young ladies, several middle-aged men smoking cigars, and toward a quartet of younger men who’d managed to snag a bottle of champagne and were quietly and deliberately getting drunk.

  “Ah, Cassie, you wonderful creature. Just in time.” Vlady was a muscular young man, tall enough and certainly good-looking. A little too much of the playboy flair for Deanna’s taste, but he suited Cassie just fine, and she’d been on the catch for him since last season.

  “I’m parched.” Cassie reached for the champagne bottle, but Vlady snatched it back.

  “Not so quickly. Close your eyes.”

  Cassie closed her eyes.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Cassie opened her mouth and tilted her chin up, which lifted her décolleté with it. Vlady openly admired it before he poured a stream of champagne into her mouth.

  Cassie swallowed, choking and laughing as she batted at his arm, which had stolen around her waist and was pulling her closer.

  No one offered to pour champagne down Deanna’s throat. She was as disappointed as she was relieved. She turned to look out across the lawn, where couples were strolling down to the sea or looking for a dark niche in which to carry on an affair.

  Deanna knew about these things, mainly from Cassie. And from Joe’s grandmother—whom Deanna called “Gran Gwen”—who had explained the way of the world to her. “Since I know your mother won’t, and God forbid you find yourself in a situation that can’t be rectified by good manners.”

  Deanna smiled, remembering that first talk. She’d blushed then, but she’d been grateful. At least she had some knowledge of the world, if only vicariously.

  Vlady pulled Cassie closer, and they started across the lawn.

  “Oh, do come on, Deanna,” Cassie said. “Herbert, bring Deanna along. There’s a good boy.”

  Herbert Stanhope clicked his heels together in a way that made them all laugh and took Deanna’s arm. She considered demurring, but everyone else was granted more freedom than her mother allowed, and it didn’t seem fair that she had to miss all the fun.

  They followed the brick walk to the cliff, passing between topi
ary beasts that sprouted from giant marble urns. The rising moon appeared and disappeared through the scudding clouds, and shadows of dolphins, peacocks, and rabbits dove before them as they laughed their way to the cliffs.

  And Deanna began to enjoy herself immensely.

  Two of Vlady’s friends began an impromptu dance among the animals and then ran headlong toward the cliff. Deanna was about to cry out to warn them when they stopped abruptly, turned, and bowed comically to their audience of four and waited for them to catch up.

  The air was so much cooler here, and the breeze from the water ruffled Deanna’s hair. She lifted her face to sky, felt the salt air on her skin, and reveled in the unexpected freedom.

  Until Cassie exclaimed, “Lord, what is that? Down on the rocks? Vlady, look. What is it?”

  Her voice had become suddenly shrill. They all peered over to the rocks below. Something lay tangled in the shadows. At first it looked like spots of light against the dark of the rocks, but as Deanna looked more closely, she could make out the shape of—

  “Good lord, someone is down there,” Vlady said. “Hello there! I say! Are you all right?” He turned to the others. “I don’t want to interrupt a tryst, but this looks— Cassie, stay here.” He thrust Cassie aside, and she grabbed hold of Deanna as the men began to scramble down the steps to the cliff walk and then climb down the rocks below.

  “What are they doing?” Cassie asked.

  “I think someone is hurt.”

  “Who could it be?” Cassie moved to the edge of the walk. Deanna didn’t want to get closer; she had a bad feeling about what they would discover. But truth be told, she couldn’t stay away. She stood beside Cassie, both of them staring down at the rocks, perched at the edge of the walk like a couple of birds of prey.

  Vlady and the others closed in around the figure.

  “Vlady! Who is it?” Cassie called out. She lifted her skirts and would have started to climb down, but Vlady stood.