Rosemary shook her head in apparent wonder. “I can’t imagine making such a spectacle of myself and all for woman suffrage. Why would a woman want to vote in the first place?”
Elizabeth should have known Rosemary would be an Anti, which was what the women who opposed woman suffrage called themselves. “Would you like me to explain all the reasons to you?”
“Certainly not. I couldn’t care less about politics, but I am interested in Gideon’s fiancée.” She tried to sweeten her words with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Where did you say you’re from?”
“South Dakota,” Elizabeth lied. She’d used that one back when she’d been arrested, and it was always good to be consistent when possible. “I suppose you and Logan are planning a large wedding. Have you set a date yet?” she added to change the subject.
“I . . . Logan is still getting used to being home again, so I haven’t pressed him, but I’m sure we won’t wait long.” Ah, so Logan was dragging his feet, probably hoping something would save him from a marriage he didn’t want. “We’ll have a church wedding, of course, and I imagine we’ll have to invite everyone we know, so naturally, that will be a lot of people.”
“Gideon and I are planning a small wedding, just family and a few close friends.”
“Really?” Rosemary didn’t bother to hide her disapproval. “I’m sure many of Gideon’s old friends will be disappointed. I suppose that’s why I haven’t seen an announcement of your engagement in the newspapers, though.”
Elizabeth felt a prickle of unease at the mention of such a potentially dangerous announcement, but she simply smiled and said, “Yes, we didn’t think it was necessary to announce our engagement since so few people in the city know me. We’ll just send out a wedding announcement.”
Rosemary pursed her lips. “Perhaps that’s the way it’s done in South Dakota.”
Elizabeth was saved from replying by the maid announcing that dinner was served.
* * *
—
Gideon had been alarmed when Rosemary began choking, but Elizabeth’s obvious concern allayed his worst fears. How on earth could she have made Rosemary choke anyway? Elizabeth was, for some inexplicable reason, strongly on the side of the unknown French girl, but she wasn’t going to do violence to Rosemary, for heaven’s sake. What had made him think that, even for a moment?
No, if Elizabeth had plans, they would not involve violence, although her plans were always much more effective than anything mere brute force could achieve. And Gideon couldn’t blame her in this case, either. He’d like to help Logan, too, but this was something Logan would have to handle himself.
“Are you finding it difficult to adjust to being home?” Gideon asked when he had watched Logan drain one glass of whiskey and pour himself another.
“Oddly, yes,” he said, as if surprised to even hear himself admit it. “When I was in France, all I could think about was getting back home, but now that I’m here . . .”
“Have you gone back to work yet?”
Logan worked in his family’s business, as was expected of a son and heir. “Father told me to take as long as I wanted before coming back, but now . . . I don’t know how to explain it, Gideon, but everything here seems so . . . so unimportant.”
Gideon nodded, although he knew he couldn’t possibly understand. “I imagine that compared to a war, selling tinned fruit is rather tame.”
Logan didn’t smile. “It’s not just the business. It’s everything.” He glanced over to where the women sat, and Gideon thought he probably meant his marriage to Rosemary as well.
“Have you talked to Rosemary about it?”
Logan laughed mirthlessly. “Have you ever tried to talk to Rosemary about anything of substance?”
Gideon remembered his admonition to Elizabeth about minding their own business, but he had to at least try. “You must have had feelings for her, Logan, or you wouldn’t have proposed to her in the first place. If you just—”
But Logan was shaking his head. “I don’t think I actually did propose to her, Gideon. It’s all kind of fuzzy now. I was drafted, and my parents had a party to see me off, and somehow Rosemary and I ended up out on the terrace alone. I’d had too much to drink, and I was feeling brave and terrified at the same time, and we talked for a bit. When we went inside, Rosemary told everyone we were engaged.”
Gideon muttered a curse. “But surely—”
“Don’t even suggest it. Our families have known each other forever. You must know how horrible it would be if I jilted her.”
Gideon knew only too well. This was exactly how generations-long family feuds started. Logan would be vilified and Rosemary would become practically unmarriageable. The pain and anger would be immense. The families would never speak again, their friends would take sides and . . . It just didn’t bear thinking about.
Gideon was saved from having to reply by the announcement that dinner was served.
* * *
—
Rosemary proved to be the perfect hostess, Elizabeth was pleased to note. The formal dining room table had been shortened to better accommodate four guests, and so they didn’t have to shout to make themselves heard by the other members of the party. Rosemary sat at one end and Logan at the other. Gideon and Elizabeth sat across from each other on the sides. The servants came and went with each course, and Rosemary treated them kindly and showed her appreciation. To Elizabeth, this was an indicator that Rosemary might not be as bad as Elizabeth had suspected. People who were rude to servants were beneath contempt.
“Gideon,” Rosemary said over the soup course, “Elizabeth tells me you are having a small wedding, with just family.”
“And a few close friends,” Gideon said. “I’ve already told Logan we’ll be inviting both of you.”
“We’re honored,” Rosemary said, “but I’m sure many of your friends will be disappointed they didn’t get to see you married to your lovely bride,” Rosemary said with a gracious glance in Elizabeth’s direction.
“And I’m sure many of my friends will be relieved to be excluded. Not everyone enjoys attending weddings.”
“Besides,” Elizabeth said to stir the pot a bit, “Gideon is sparing me the embarrassment of having my side of the church empty since I don’t know many people in the city.”
“Won’t your family come, at least?”
“Yes, they will, but I don’t have much family, I’m sorry to say, and most of the women who were in prison with me are from other states as well.”
“Prison?” Logan echoed in shocked surprise.
“I did say you’d be amazed if I told you how we’d met,” Gideon reminded him. “She was arrested with my mother and the other suffragists at the White House.”
“Which is hardly a subject to discuss at the dinner table,” Rosemary hastily declared.
“But I do want to hear all about your experience,” Logan said with apparent sincerity. “Perhaps after dinner?”
Elizabeth would be only too happy to oblige.
* * *
—
Were you trying to make Rosemary sick?” Gideon asked as they walked over to Fifth Avenue, where they were more likely to find a cab to take them home after leaving Rosemary’s house.
“I was just answering Logan’s questions about what happened to me when I was in the workhouse,” Elizabeth said, not bothering to pretend she regretted her actions.
“I don’t think I ever saw anyone actually turn green before,” Gideon marveled.
“I am sorry about that. I only intended to shock her, but I suppose if you’ve never been force-fed before . . .”
“Just let that be a lesson to you.” Gideon tried to glower at her, but it only made her smile.
“Anna is right. Rosemary is a bit of a drip, but I don’t think she can help it.”
“Why can’t she he
lp it?”
“Because of the way she was raised. I have a feeling a lot of society girls are just like her.”
Gideon gave the matter a few moments’ thought. “I suppose they are.”
“Which probably explains why you were still single when I met you.”
“And why I was so enchanted by you,” he replied with a grin.
She didn’t return his smile. “But why are they like that, do you suppose?”
Gideon didn’t have to think about that. “Because they live in such a tidy little world.”
“What does that mean?”
How to explain it? “New York society is very strict and very closed. The same families have known each other and married only each other for generations. The men work in the family firm or for family friends, if they need to work at all. The girls go to the same schools and are protected from every bit of unpleasantness.”
“As are the boys, I imagine,” Elizabeth said.
“That’s true, or at least it was, until the war.”
“And now the war has changed things, at least for some of them.”
“I’m afraid so. Logan told me nothing here at home seems important to him anymore.”
“Maybe it never was important.”
Gideon looked down at her again. “You could be right.”
“Do you know that Rosemary told me I couldn’t be from New York because she’d never met me before?”
“Does she think she knows every woman in New York?” he asked, amazed.
“No, but she thinks she knows every woman who matters in New York, which means every woman who might be worthy enough to marry Gideon Bates.”
“Good Lord.”
“By the way, I told her I’m from South Dakota, because she wouldn’t have believed me if I told her the truth. Did you know they haven’t set a wedding date yet?”
“No, but Logan is determined to see it through. He doesn’t want to hurt his family, and jilting Rosemary would cause them a lot of trouble, not to mention how much it would hurt Rosemary.”
They’d reached Fifth Avenue, and Gideon turned his attention to flagging down a cab. When they were settled into one and on their way home, Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder. “I hope I’m not going to be too much of a liability to you.”
“What on earth do you mean?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“I mean if Rosemary doesn’t know me, no one knows me. They’re going to wonder who I am and who my family is and—”
“And what if they do? If it doesn’t matter to me, it doesn’t matter.”
Strangely, she had no answer for that.
* * *
—
On Sunday morning, Elizabeth was running a bit late and slipped into the pew beside Gideon and Mrs. Bates just as the service was starting. Mrs. Bates gave her an odd look. At first Elizabeth thought she was simply disapproving of Elizabeth’s tardiness, but then she realized Mrs. Bates’s expression was more concerned than annoyed. Gideon, too, looked unhappy, but she had no opportunity to question them because the organ was blaring out the introduction to the first hymn.
By the end of the service, she was consumed with curiosity, but before she could ask her fiancé or his mother what was wrong, the lady in the pew in front of them turned around and said, “Miss Miles, I was so happy to see the news of your engagement in the newspaper this morning. I wish you both all the best. Have you set a wedding date yet?”
For once, Elizabeth found herself speechless. “I . . . thank you,” she said faintly and turned to Gideon. Did he know? Did that explain his grim expression all through the church service?
Mrs. Bates, a master of all social situations, quickly explained that they were having a small wedding at home while Gideon took her arm and tried to steer her out into the aisle to make their escape. Well-wishers had other plans, however, and they were stopped repeatedly by early risers who had seen the announcement in not just one but many newspapers that morning. Every newspaper with a society page, apparently.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Mrs. Bates assured her when they had finally evaded the last of the congratulatory parishioners and were on their way back to the Bates house. “We had no idea this had happened, and we certainly have no idea how it happened.”
“You didn’t send it in then?” Elizabeth said, still slightly stunned.
“Of course not, and especially not after you told me why I shouldn’t. Unfortunately, I never read the newspaper until after church is over, so I didn’t see it myself.”
“And I didn’t see it,” Gideon said, his anger obvious, if tightly controlled, “because I never read the society pages at all. The first we knew was when we arrived at the church this morning and people started congratulating me.”
“Who could have sent it in, though?” Mrs. Bates said. “And to so many newspapers? Would your father have done it? Or your aunt?”
“I can’t imagine my father even thinking of it, or Aunt Cybil, either, for that matter, unless she thought it was one of her duties as substitute mother of the bride,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll ask her, of course, but . . .”
“But who else would have even been interested enough in our business to do something like this?” Gideon said. “Your father would have known better than to put your name in the newspapers with mine.”
“Would Cybil have known?” Mrs. Bates asked.
Elizabeth tried to think, but she couldn’t remember ever mentioning her troubles with Oscar Thornton to Cybil. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Then she might have done it in all innocence,” Mrs. Bates said.
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said doubtfully.
“Well, it’s unfortunate, but we may be worried for nothing,” Gideon said quite reasonably. “I don’t think many men read the society pages, and I can’t imagine why Oscar Thornton would be reading them. He doesn’t even live in New York anymore.”
That was one reason why she loved Gideon. He could always use logic to make things seem better, even if they weren’t, because Oscar Thornton—wherever he was—would probably still very much want her dead. “You’re right. We’re probably worrying for nothing, but I do want to figure out who did this. We can’t have people taking charge of our lives without our permission.”
“You’re absolutely right, dear,” Mrs. Bates said. “This is a very serious matter, particularly when it could put you in danger.”
“Did the announcement mention the date of the wedding?” Elizabeth asked as she realized how easy that would make it for Thornton to find her.
“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Bates said. “People were asking us about that, remember?”
“Oh yes.” Elizabeth really was rattled by all of this.
Gideon patted her hand where it rested on his arm as they walked toward his house. “It will be all right.”
Of course it would. They hadn’t heard anything about Oscar Thornton for over a year. He couldn’t possibly still be a threat to her, could he?
No, he couldn’t. The important thing was to find out who had sent the engagement announcement to the newspapers to make sure no more mistakes like that were made.
As soon as they reached the house, Gideon dug out the two morning newspapers he had purchased that day. Elizabeth and Mrs. Bates scanned the engagement announcements in both of them, but to their surprise they didn’t find any that listed Gideon and Elizabeth.
“Look,” Elizabeth said after poring over the rest of the society pages, “it’s in the gossip column!”
Indeed it was. Every society section had a column discussing the activities of the Four Hundred. These reports described parties and charity events and even the occasional scandal, and buried in among this week’s listings was an item about Gideon and Elizabeth’s “unannounced” engagement and speculation on when the wedding would take place.
“So
it wasn’t sent in as a formal announcement at all,” Mrs. Bates said.
“This is infuriating,” Elizabeth said, suitably infuriated. “How do these gossip columnists get their information?”
“By listening to gossip, I imagine,” Gideon said, also infuriated.
“They also have sources among the members of society,” Mrs. Bates said somewhat apologetically, “although I never dreamed our family was interesting enough to merit this kind of attention.”
“Which means someone must have purposely notified them of our engagement and probably even hinted that there was something interesting about it,” Elizabeth said. “That eliminates Cybil and the rest of my family. They’d never even think of doing such a thing.”
“And we know we didn’t do it,” Gideon said.
“But who else would even care about your engagement?” Mrs. Bates said.
When she put it like that, Elizabeth realized she knew. “It was Rosemary!”
“What?” Gideon asked in surprise.
“Rosemary Westerly?” Mrs. Bates asked, equally surprised. “Why would you think she did it?”
“Because she’s the only one outside of family with whom I have even discussed my engagement announcement. She actually mentioned that she hadn’t seen one and she obviously disapproved of my decision not to do one.”
“And you think she took it upon herself to notify these gossip columnists?” Gideon asked, obviously not wanting to believe it.
“But that would be very presumptuous of her,” Mrs. Bates said, probably not wanting to believe it, either.
“Do you have any reason to think she isn’t capable of being presumptuous?” Elizabeth asked.
“She is perfectly capable of it,” Gideon said, bless him.
“Oh dear. If it really was Rosemary, it was inexcusable,” Mrs. Bates said, “even though she certainly couldn’t have known she was putting you in danger.”
Which was her only saving grace. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Elizabeth said, wondering how on earth she was going to put Rosemary securely back in her place without causing a rift between Gideon and Logan.
City of Schemes Page 3
