by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris
Alfred saw the wistful look on Francesca’s face in spite of the fact she stood at the Gull‘s tiller. Perhaps he had said too much, but he at least had wanted to give Francesca some answers.
He’d intended to invite James to join him today, James alone, for an outing to remind them of their childhood antics. That, and to firm up more plans for the foundation. To be sure, the senior Mr. Wallingford had shown a tepid reaction to Alfred’s idea. But Alfred knew that James had given him his full support, and one day the reins of the Wallingford shipping and banking empire would be in his hands.
Yet James had wanted to include Victoria, who in turn asked to include Francesca. A natural occurrence, but Francesca’s presence distracted him. He didn’t know if he’d told her too much about his reasons for leaving their society years ago, but she deserved to know.
Francesca now bit her lip as she clutched the handle of the tiller. “Am I doing this right?”
“Of course not.” James popped up from where he sat. “You’re likely going to run us aground, and then where will we be?” He moved to Francesca’s other side and plucked at her elbow.
“You must find yourself quite amusing, dear brother.” Francesca stuck her tongue out at him. “I’ve done nothing of the sort, and I’m sure Alfred will take charge, or any of his fine crew, should we run into trouble.”
Alfred chuckled. “Don’t pay him any mind, Fran. He’s no more a sailor than you are.”
“Very well then.” She grinned at him, then released the tiller and took a step back. “I shall go join Victoria.”
The boat shuddered, and Alfred grabbed the handles. “Silly girl.” He shook his head. The Gull resumed its normal happy course along the coast. Instead of turning back for lunch, he decided to find a good spot and drop anchor, and they could eat and bob safely on the quiet waves.
“Careful, Al.” James’s voice held a low tone.
“To what are you referring?” Alfred had his suspicions.
“Fran has always been a high-spirited girl, and I expect the woman Francesca will be the same. I don’t want her heart broken because of disappointment.”
“She was practically a child when I left.”
“Of course. But now she’s out in society, and there are other forces at work. Namely, my mother.”
“I do not aim to break her heart.” Alfred’s palm hurt from gripping the tiller. In a moment, he would call for one of his boatmen to help him slow the boat and drop anchor.
“In fact, once I am more established as head of my father’s business dealings and people are accustomed to my presence, I am going to speak to your father.”
James sighed and leaned on the rigging. “It’s not that simple, you should know.”
“I realize your mother and other individuals will see me as little more than the questionably legitimate heir to the Finley holdings, but I am sure your father is a reasonable man.”
“Of course you’re right. But I’m afraid my parents—my mother, especially—have their sights set higher than the Finley name. Quite frankly, you’re our financial equal or perhaps even a bit better. Your father was a shrewd businessman and built his empire from practically nothing. As did mine.”
“Who do you think your parents are focusing on?”
“A title—and old money.” James shook his head. “I despise it, really. Mother’s airs are intolerable. Not a day goes by that she’s not sniping at Victoria about some sort of faux pas, imagined or otherwise.”
“A title and old money, you say.” Alfred reminded himself about self-control, and holding his temper. The narrow-mindedness of some folks set him off nearly every time he came across it.
“Which is why I said to be careful. Francesca may be harboring dreams that will be dashed like a ship on those rocks lining the coast, should her dreams not come true.”
Chapter 5
Francesca tried not to clutch Victoria’s hand too tightly. The entry hall of the Vanderbilts’ cottage, Marble House, glowed in all its resplendence and made Seaside look pretentious in comparison. In the glow of the Tiffany glass, the marble seemed more like liquid stone than that of a hard surface. The sun had at long last gone down, and a breeze blew from the bay. Dances did not start until well after sundown, and Francesca knew their driver would return to the Vanderbilts’ residence shortly after daybreak and an early breakfast.
“Ladies, I shall rejoin you when the dancing begins.” James took Victoria’s free hand and kissed it. “We men have business to tend to, but you can be sure we will arrive promptly at supper.”
“Of course, my love, you always do.” Victoria smiled at him, and the women continued their walk to the ballroom, following the crowd.
“You really love my brother, don’t you?” Francesca asked.
“That I do, although I didn’t at first.” She glanced at Francesca. “Does that surprise you?”
“No, I can’t say that it does. In our position, we have few choices of whom to marry. Those of us who have a choice, that is.” Francesca glimpsed another pair of young women, who, like herself, were experiencing their first summer out in society.
“You needn’t worry, I’m sure.” Victoria nodded to another acquaintance of the family’s.
“Your parents have your best interests in mind. Was that Mrs. Copley or Mrs. Hamilton? I can never remember. The one whose husband owns the steel company.”
“I don’t know. I am good with faces, but names sometimes escape me.” Francesca pondered Victoria’s words. “But what you said about my parents. Do you know of anything that they have planned?”
Victoria drew her toward the wall of the great gilded ballroom they’d just entered. She leaned closer. “I dare not say, because I have heard nothing certain. Now, mind you, I despise eavesdropping.”
“As do I, but sometimes it can’t be helped.”
“One morning, I was in the library, searching for a book of poetry I’d left on the window seat in the gallery. Your mother and father were there. They only passed through. I don’t know if your father was searching for his cigars or his glasses, but they were only present for a brief moment.”
Francesca wanted to drag the words out of her sister-in-law one by one. “All right. So what you are telling me is only part of the story. I understand.”
Victoria took a deep breath and said, “I heard your father say something like, ‘Unlike you, I believe the idea has merit. Financially we shall not gain anything by the connection. But our daughter will be happy.’
“And then your mother said, ‘If her future is secure, then I know she will be happy. Our grandchildren will have more than she even has now. Thankfully she does not remember those early days of hardship.’
“Then your father roared and said something like, ‘What he owns far exceeds money and stature. I will not bend to this idea of yours.’
“And then the two of them thundered from the room, and I heard nothing more of the conversation. You know this can only mean one thing.”
“They were trying to select a husband for me, worthy of my trust fund.” Francesca’s heart pounded. “I can only guess who they argued about, but I’d rather not say.”
“You should make your own intentions known now, if you prefer someone, before it is too late,” Victoria said. “I did so about James. He was as kind and intelligent and handsome as any I’d seen. While I did not love him at first, I knew love would come. And it has. Oh, it surely has.”
“Do you mean—?” Francesca grasped Victoria’s hand.
Her sister-in-law whispered in her ear. “By this time next summer, you shall be an aunt.”
Francesca clamped her hand over her mouth, then calmed herself before anyone else noticed her delighted reaction. No, they were too busy examining Mrs. Vanderbilt’s embellishments to the room. Not that it needed any embellishing.
“I am so happy for both of you.”
“Thank you. We plan to announce it at family supper, tomorrow night.” Victoria glowed as if happy to share her s
ecret with someone.
Another friend wearing a sparkling tiara glided up to them. “Victoria, how are you this evening? Is James here?”
“I’m quite well, Millicent,” Victoria replied. “James is here, too.”
“We need your opinion over there about a particular matter, if you don’t mind joining us for a moment.”
“Of course not. Fran, I’ll be back shortly.” Victoria nodded at Francesca.
“I’ll see you then.” The orchestra members were assembling at their seats for the first dancing to begin. Supper would not be until midnight, but Francesca’s stomach already growled. A familiar figure in a gown of sapphire blue approached her and stopped. Her cousin, Lillian.
“You’ve heard the news, haven’t you?” Lillian asked. “Consuelo and Winthrop Rutherford had a secret engagement. And her mother learned of it. They locked her in her room.”
“Why? Did she threaten to run away?”
“I’m not quite certain, but it is a known fact that he is not the one her family considers suitable for her to marry.”
“How awful for her.” Francesca scanned the room for the diminutive young woman with large, dark eyes. And how devastating, to be denied one’s true love. And how sad that she felt she must be engaged secretly to someone not of her mother’s choosing. “Have you seen her tonight?”
“Not yet.” Lillian nudged her. “Look. There is your Mr. Finley.”
Alfred was shaking James’s hand, and gesturing to another gentleman in a fine suit nearby. “He’s not my Mr. Finley.”
“Ah, but I hear he is yet unattached, and he has known our family for years.” She leaned closer. “Do you think your mother will hear of a union between the two of you?”
“I … I think that is doubtful, as you know quite well.”
“Well, I also have heard that the Duke of Marlborough has been seen about. He is deemed to be an acceptable match for Consuelo. She is worth twenty million, after all.”
“Mrs. Vanderbilt probably wants her daughter to be a duchess.” Francesca shook her head. “A title.”
Lillian’s eyes took on a curious light. “Yes, with a title there is not just money. But influence. Could you imagine? The respect one would have with a title.”
“I have to admit, when I first met the count in Paris, he quite turned my head.” Francesca glanced toward Victoria, who had greeted one of her friends and was no doubt catching up on news.
“He turns every woman’s head. I wonder how much he’s worth?” Lillian linked her arm through Francesca’s.
The sisterly gesture made Francesca pause. The younger of the two by six months, Lillian should have been the kind of cousin to have for a friend while growing up, but for some curious reason her cousin always wanted to compete with Francesca. When Francesca had received a pony when she turned eight years old, Lillian had demanded one, too. Painting lessons, which Lillian promptly gave up but where Francesca excelled. Although, Lillian could sing, and no doubt if someone played the pianoforte tonight, Lillian would somehow manage a turn to stand and sing beside the instrument.
“I certainly have no idea. He does seem wealthy enough.”
“A New York estate, and a place in London, besides his Paris residence.” Lillian nodded and smiled at another young woman passing by them.
“You seem to know quite a lot about the man,” Francesca observed.
“Dear cousin, we must know as much as we can about the people in our circle. It will only be to our advantage. Surely you understand that.”
“I am tired of the posturing I see and the pretentiousness.”
“Surely it is but a phase of melancholy you are going through. Perhaps your mother should send for a doctor. There must be a remedy.” Lillian paused, and Francesca had to stop short.
“Beatrice, darling, how are you?” Lillian said to a young woman they encountered in the ballroom.
Francesca took in the sight of the golden room. What a birthday present from Mr. Vanderbilt to his wife, but even Francesca had heard the murmuring that their marriage had troubles. The gilded mirrors and marble walls glowed in the light of the chandeliers. And the fireplace, imported from Italy with its bronze sculpted figures. The ceiling, too, reminded everyone that this was no ordinary ballroom.
The orchestra in the corner was tuning up, the sound a pleasant cacophony. The others in attendance clustered around the perimeter of the dance floor.
“You will save me at least one dance, won’t you?”
Francesca did not have to turn to know the owner of the voice. Since that day of sailing, she had longed for the chance to see Alfred again. Aside from glimpsing him at church one Sunday in town, she had not had the pleasure. Could he glimpse the eagerness in her face?
“But of course. And more than one, even.” Practically brazen, Mother would say, but Francesca did not care at the moment. “Have you been busy? I haven’t seen you since that day we went out on the Gull.”
“Yes, I have been busy. One of the reasons I am here tonight is because William Vanderbilt has learned of my plans for the foundation. As he is engaged in philanthropy himself, I know there is much that I can learn from him. We are planning to meet and confer more in New York, but as his wife wanted a balanced list for the ball, my name was added.”
“Imagine. I’ll have to tell Mother that. Surely that should raise you in her estimation.” She laughed.
Alfred could listen to Francesca’s laughter all evening. She no longer possessed the giggle of a young girl, but the warm, rich laugh of a woman. He ought to have retreated with the small group of men heading to Mr. Vanderbilt’s study, but as the evening went on, he realized he would regret not spending as much time with Francesca as he could.
The orchestra then struck up a lively tune, and dancers paired up. Alfred offered his arm to Francesca. “First dance? Then we will not be disappointed if the opportunity does not come our way again.”
“Of course.”
She was light on her feet, and her smile remained bright. Alfred didn’t care if he never had the chance to speak with Mr. Vanderbilt that evening.
“Please forgive my mother. She’s been unconscionable this summer,” Francesca said halfway through the dance.
“I understand. She is not the first.” He led her to the turn, released her hand, and then took her other one. “I am well aware of how the game is played.”
“But our parents were friends, and I don’t see how she can put on airs like she has.” Her brow furrowed.
“It happens. We feel we must put forth an image, be the example. God’s chosen elite.” He caught her around the waist.
“Well, I am tired of the image,” Francesca admitted. “Surely you are not serious about being the elite?”
“Of course not.” He loved seeing the pretty frown on her face. “I only say what I see in the philosophy of some.”
“But I see that what only makes us different from those without is our money, and perhaps our education. Look at the ball in Paris. My sweet maid Elizabeth wore an old gown of mine, and I passed her off—if not completely—as one who moved in society’s upper circles.” The music ended, and the couples applauded as they headed to the edges of the ballroom.
“It was quite convincing at first. Small details clued me in, but those were superficial,” Alfred said over the noise of clapping hands.
“My point exactly.” Francesca remained by his side, and they watched another group of dancers take the floor. “Deep down, we are all alike. We want security, love, and we want to belong. God Himself is no respecter of persons, as the Bible says.”
“My, my. Serious thoughts for a beautiful evening.” What Alfred wouldn’t give so that Francesca could be by his side always. Her compassionate nature and not just her beauty appealed to him. Which meant he needed to speak to Mr. Wallingford. James’s cautionary words came back to him. He had no idea if any plans had been set in motion, but if Alfred could prevent heartbreak for Francesca, he would.
“I’m sorr
y.” The worry left her face with a smile. “Just seeing the grandeur of this house amazes me, and it makes me wonder why we must all have so … much. What we spend on dinner could feed families for months. It almost makes me want to move to a simple house and bake bread.”
“But you enjoy the parties and such?”
She nodded. “Part of me does, and I feel guilty sometimes about that. I know I’d probably be miserable were I to exchange places with Elizabeth for a time. I like being comfortable and doted upon.”
“You want a happy medium.”
“I do. And I also want to make a difference.” Francesca placed one of her gloved hands on his arm. “This is why you must succeed. To make a difference. And to encourage the others in this room tonight to do the same with what God has given them.”
He saw another gentleman nod at him, one of Mr. Vanderbilt’s associates with whom he wished to speak. Time for the retreat before supper. “For your sake, and those who will one day benefit, I’ll do my best.” He gave a slight bow. “I must go for now, but I hope to see you at supper.”
“I hope so, too.”
Alfred straightened his tie and tugged on his cuffs as he left the ballroom. The sounds of male laughter drifted from an open door. He had never entered William Vanderbilt’s lounge at Marble House and felt as if he were going to appear before royalty. But like Francesca said, people were alike, deep down.
He believed that most in the room would want to make a difference. Perhaps he should start a discussion about educational reform and increased accessibility.
Instead, the first person he spoke to brought up the subject of his unmarried state. Reginald Avery with his graying handlebar moustache had but one wife, yet the portly man was known to have dalliances on the side with much younger women. Alfred wasn’t sure the man would want to lend his support to Alfred’s idea. But he saw no harm in speaking to Reginald.
“You’re wound up tighter than piano string, young Finley.” Reginald clapped him on the back. “You either didn’t sow enough wild oats out on that frontier, or you need to get married. Or both.” He punctuated the air with throaty laughter that made a few heads turn in their direction.
