A Question of Class

by Julia Tagan

  She wondered what they could have been talking about that was so important. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Now stop squeezing my hand so hard. And don’t look down.”

  He gave her an exasperated look. “For God’s sake, stop ordering me around.”

  She smiled sweetly back. “And look like you’re having fun. By the way, we’re the only couple dancing.”

  The room was a sea of faces, all staring in their general direction. She matched her movements to Benjamin’s and they moved across the floor, as if propelled by a gentle breeze. The music was divine, and Catherine let her head drop back slightly. She noticed Benjamin was looking at her and smiling. A flood of warmth traveled through her body.

  She was at the center of attention. This was everything she might’ve hoped for six months ago: knowing the latest dance and dressed to the nines in the epicenter of New York high society. But it all seemed hollow somehow, especially when she thought of poor Sophie. When the dance ended, she broke off from Benjamin and scanned the crowd for Theodosia.

  “And where’s your sash, my dear?”

  Mrs. Wetmore puffed over, accompanied by her gawky friend. She had an enormous red sash wrapped around her waist that emphasized the thickness of her trunk, and resembled a large, ungainly Christmas present.

  “Ah, Mrs. Wetmore,” said Benjamin. “You look lovely.”

  Mrs. Wetmore melted under his gaze for a moment before turning back to Catherine. “You said you were wearing a sash.”

  “I did, didn’t I,” said Catherine. “But then you see I received a letter from Josephine this afternoon. Apparently the fashion has already peaked. It’s so difficult to keep up with the continent, you know.”

  “A letter from Josephine?” Mrs. Wetmore’s lip trembled.

  “Yes. Now everyone is back to wearing powdered wigs. I plan on ordering one right away.”

  Mrs. Wetmore eyed her suspiciously. Before she could say another word, Benjamin turned to Catherine.

  “You seem rather warm, you must let me get you a refreshment,” he said.

  Catherine took his arm gratefully and let him draw her away.

  “You seem to be able to single-handedly influence New York fashion. Well done,” he said.

  “Why thank you. You can see what I’ve been up against.”

  “It’d be easier to face a pack of wild wolves than that woman.”

  Benjamin led them to a corner of the room and lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He gave one to her.

  “It’s all so beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

  “If you like that kind of thing.”

  “When I first came to New York with Mr. Delcour, this is what I dreamed of. To be part of society, and be watched and admired.” She took a sip of champagne. “And now I realize it’s silliness. Whether they like me or not, it’s not worth the trouble. Unfortunately, this is more important to Mr. Delcour than anything else. Even family.”

  “He has a particular set of priorities.” Benjamin looked across the room with a determined stare.

  She followed his gaze and saw Carpenter regaling a group of older men with a story.

  “Everything comes easily to Mr. Carpenter,” she said. “It drives Mr. Delcour mad.”

  “He seems like an interesting fellow.”

  She wondered what lurked beneath Benjamin’s quiet, rough facade. What was he doing following her around town as Morris’s lackey? There was something within him, an unsettled dignity she couldn’t help but admire.

  Theodosia approached, trailing a pretty, pale girl who appeared to be around eighteen.

  “Mrs. Delcour and Mr. Thomas, may I present my cousin, Miss Marianna.”

  Before Catherine or Benjamin could say a word, Marianna cocked her ear and gave a small yelp. “It’s another waltz. Mr. Thomas, you must dance with me, I insist.”

  Benjamin looked momentarily stunned.

  “Oh, do let’s,” said Marianna with another squeal. “Mr. Thomas, you made such a dashing figure earlier. I found I was quite envious, and to make up for it you must dance with me now.” She gave a little leap in the air.

  Catherine was certain the girl would levitate any moment. “Go on,” she said to Benjamin. “It would be rude to refuse.”

  Benjamin offered his arm to Marianna, but shot a warning look at Catherine before he turned away.

  “We must stay here for a moment, and pretend to watch,” said Catherine once Benjamin was out of earshot. “Then we’ll make a quick dash once he’s on the other side of the room.”

  After a swarm of dancers swallowed up Benjamin and his dance partner, Catherine and Theodosia fled up a set of stairs and entered a small sitting room.

  Catherine pulled Theodosia beside her onto a small sofa. “We should have five minutes before he comes looking for me.”

  “Now tell me, what happened with Percy, was he of any help?” asked Theodosia.

  “I’m afraid Percy Bonneville offered me the sort of help that only confirmed to me he’s a cad.”

  “Oh dear,” said Theodosia.

  “Yes. He asked me to be his mistress.”

  Theodosia shook her head. “That’s awfully bold of him, arranging for a mistress before he’s even wed.”

  “It is indeed. But that’s not the least of my worries. I’ve heard from my younger sister, Sophie. She’s in trouble and I have to travel to Bridgeport to find her.”

  “Sophie? Why, you so rarely speak of her. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “Since I left five years ago. I had hoped she was being well taken care of. But she writes that the couple who raised us are handing her over to a strange man, as they did me. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Tell me what you need,” Theodosia said.

  “I’m not quite sure, to be honest. I have to get to Bridgeport before she leaves in a few days, but I have nothing to my name. And I can’t go anywhere without Benjamin following along.”

  “There must be a way to save Sophie. Is there anything you can use to get away?”

  “I was hoping to find the bottle of Yquem Mr. Delcour loves so much.”

  “Oh yes. The Yquem.” Theodosia rolled her eyes. “How many times has he brought that bloody wine up in conversation? That’s a brilliant idea. It will drive him mad if you take it.”

  “Unfortunately, he guessed what I would do and the bottle is missing. I’m sure he moved it before he left town, knowing in my anger I’d be likely to smash it to pieces.”

  “Do you think he could have given the bottle to my stepfather for safekeeping, while he was away?”

  “Perhaps he did. Mr. Carpenter is the only other person he’d trust. Could it be in his wine cellar?”

  Theodosia thought for a moment. “No. There are too many servants going in and out, particularly on a night like this. If the bottle were here, it would be in his study. Go back to the party and I’ll look.”

  “No, I can’t put you in that position,” said Catherine. “I’ll go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Certain. Point me in the right direction.”

  They exited into the hall. Sounds from the party echoed off the marble floor. “His study is the last door on the right,” said Theodosia.

  Catherine nodded.

  “Look in the locked drawer of his desk,” said Theodosia. “The desk used to be my father’s. He would keep sweets for my brother and me there when we were growing up. When my brother was ten, he figured out if you take a letter opener and fiddle with the lock, it’ll open. Good luck.”

  Once Theodora had disappeared back into the party, Catherine leaned her ear against the study door. She didn’t hear any sounds, so she slowly turned the knob.

  “Catherine!”

  She whirled around. Percy was advancing on her. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We need to speak.”

  Catherine stepped away from the door. “I don’t think we need to speak at all, you’ve already said enough.”

 
He grabbed her arm roughly and pushed her against the wall. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve offered you an opportunity to have everything you could possibly want. You need security, and I need you. It’s simple.”

  “No.” His breath reeked of alcohol and she turned her head away. “I am not interested in being anyone’s mistress. I thought I was clear.”

  He leaned into her and pushed his knee between her legs. “You are a sight to behold tonight. Your dress is ravishing. I’ve wanted you for a long time and I think the time has come I get a taste, don’t you?”

  “How dare you touch me.” She squirmed but he held her tight. A strand of his thin blonde hair fell across his forehead and he blew it out of the way.

  “I’m sure you’re quite a pleasure, my dear. As Delcour has already been with you in sin, I don’t see how you can object.”

  He kissed her and dug his fingers into her buttocks. She bit him hard on the lip and pushed him away. He yowled and stepped back.

  “Stay away from me,” she warned.

  Percy touched his lip gently. He leaned back against the opposite wall and laughed, and then pulled a shiny watch fob out of his coat pocket.

  “Before long, you’ll be out on the streets begging for me to take you in. And I shall relish every minute.” He held the watch up and let it swing back and forth. “Tick, tock, it’s only a matter of time.”

  She grabbed her skirts and ran down the hall toward the deafening roar of the party as fast as she could.

  9

  Benjamin’s dance with the eager Marianne seemed to last for hours. He spied Catherine and Theodosia dashing out of the ballroom, and was unable, with all of the turns of the dance, to keep them in his sight. When the music finally stopped, he gave Marianne a curt nod and escaped.

  He headed in the direction where he’d last seen Catherine. The lilac dress, which had taken his breath away earlier that evening, was nowhere in sight. When Catherine had glided down the stairs at the townhouse, the silk clinging with every movement and her breasts swelling up enticingly beneath the gold lace trim, Benjamin had to look away to keep from staring.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed Carpenter walk briskly into the ballroom and motion toward the same group of men he’d been standing with earlier. As Carpenter led the group of men out of the ballroom, Benjamin followed.

  He caught up with them one floor above the ballroom, standing in the middle of a grand library. Books covered every wall, and the woodwork, extending up the walls and across the ceiling, was intricately carved and smoothly polished. The men gathered around a table covered with several bottles of wine and half a dozen goblets. Carpenter noticed Benjamin lurking in the doorway and invited him in.

  “This, my friends, is Mr. Benjamin Thomas, a relation of Delcour’s.” Carpenter turned to Benjamin. “You must join us. I’m about to uncork a bottle of wine that will bring you to your knees. You’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”

  Benjamin nodded politely as he was introduced to the other men. There were five of them, including the owner of the City Hotel and several esteemed innkeepers.

  Carpenter seemed nervous and Benjamin noticed his hands shook as he uncorked the bottle. Carpenter caught his glance and gave him a smile.

  “Let me catch you up, my dear man,” he said. “You don’t know much about wine, do you?”

  Benjamin shook his head. “Please, I’m eager to learn.”

  “Now this is a Chateau Margaux.” Carpenter pointed to the label. “You, like the rest of the ignorant souls of the Americas, have tasted what I call the lower liquors, like rum, gin and brandy. In France, wine is the drink of choice, and Chateau Margaux is the quintessence of the grape. Each year the vines are grown in a dry, gravelly soil and clamor for liquid. This concentrates the taste in the delectable fruit in a way no other vineyard can do. I visited Delcour in Bordeaux two summers ago, and I tell you, this is the juice of the gods. Soon, everyone in America will be drinking wine, but you’ll be able to say you have tasted nectar, my dear men.”

  “Enough talking, pour me a glass,” said the man standing to Benjamin’s right. They all laughed.

  Carpenter poured a small amount into his own glass and tasted it. Instead of swallowing, he swished it around his mouth, and the men watched him intently. Benjamin was certain if Carpenter gargled with it next, they’d do the same.

  After swallowing and smacking his lips, Carpenter poured each man a glass, wiping the lip of the bottle with a serviette after each pour.

  “To doing business,” said Carpenter, raising his glass.

  “To business,” repeated the others.

  Benjamin rolled the liquid around in his glass. To his surprise, the wine didn’t have the deep plum hue he’d noticed the few times he’d tasted Chateau Margaux back in France. Perhaps the discoloration was due to the long journey by sea. When he lifted the glass to his lips, Benjamin found the taste to be much more tannic than he’d expected. He took another, more tentative sip.

  Carpenter was studying his face intently and Benjamin smiled at him. The other men were all exclaiming their delight.

  “What do you think?” Carpenter asked him.

  “I’ve never had anything like it. I’m more of an ale man myself.” Benjamin held up his glass and took another sip. Definitely not Chateau Margaux.

  “I see,” said Carpenter. “The rest of you are a touch more advanced than Mr. Thomas here, and I hope you’ll agree with me this is exquisite.”

  “I’ll take ten cases for the City Hotel,” said one gentleman.

  The truth was out: Carpenter and Delcour were taking advantage of the Americans’ ignorance of fine wine. As Carpenter took orders, each man vying for a piece of what they thought was precious cargo, Benjamin slipped out the door.

  * * * *

  Catherine figured she’d be safe from Percy back in the ballroom, surrounded by guests and servants. Theodosia was nowhere to be seen, but Catherine spied Benjamin up on the second floor balcony, moving at a great clip deeper into the house and not even glancing down at the dancers below. Intrigued, she headed up the stairway and followed him. She thought he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but between dancing with Marianne and creeping along corridors, he wasn't doing much of a job.

  Catherine found herself in the same hallway she’d come from. Luckily, Percy had disappeared. Ahead of her, Benjamin tried a door on the right, peered in and then quietly shut it. He moved down the hallway in this manner until he found the door to Carpenter’s study and disappeared inside.

  Catherine waited a few seconds outside the study. Back down the hallway, she heard men’s voices and the distinctive guttural laugh of Carpenter. She opened the door and entered.

  The room had large windows draped by thick velvet, and was dimly lit by a couple of sconces. A large desk stood at one end near a marble fireplace. She hoped Carpenter was headed back to the party and not coming this way. Benjamin stood behind the desk, leaning over it and leafing through some papers.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Benjamin jumped back from the desk. He’d been so engrossed in whatever he was looking at, he hadn’t heard her approach.

  She smiled. “I'm not sure what Mr. Carpenter would say if he knew you were snooping through his papers.”

  Benjamin slowly moved from behind the desk. “He wouldn’t be amused.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what are you up to? If you don’t, I’ll fetch Mr. Carpenter myself.”

  “I should ask you the same question.”

  “I saw you lurking around the hallways and I followed you.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d take better advantage of your freedom to escape. Why bother sneaking around after me?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. And anyway, I have no means of escape.” Without meaning to, she glanced at the desk.

  He followed her gaze. “What’s in the desk?”

  She pursed her lips.

  “The Yquem? What do you plan on doing
with the bottle once you find it?” he asked. “Break it, drink it or run away with it?”

  “That’s none of your concern. There's a reason you're here at the Carpenter’s ball, and it's not only to keep an eye on me. You are not what you seem.” She listed the evidence on her fingers. “You’re far more cultured than a man who claims he’s been on the sea most of his life. I have some serious doubts about your servitude to a mustard merchant, and finally, you keep losing me. As a minder you’re quite hopeless.” She stared hard at him. “Why are you pretending to be someone you’re not?”

  * * * *

  Benjamin moved to the window and considered his next move. Down on the street the shops were shuttered for the evening, and candlelight flickered in the windows in the floors above. Horse-driven hackneys rolled by the line of guest carriages outside the mansion, kicking up dust where the coachmen waited in small groups.

  “If you won’t tell me, I have no choice but to send a letter to my husband warning him of your treasonous ways,” threatened Catherine.

  He laughed. “And why would you do that? Do you think that would prevent him from sending you to the West Indies?”

  “Of course not. He’s determined to get rid of me, in no uncertain terms. There's no point in me trying to get into his good graces. No, Mr. Thomas, I have other plans for you.”

  The woman was in no position to give him orders, yet she had the audacity to act as if she were. “You seem to think you have some kind of power over me. I’m not your servant, may I remind you.”

  She came over and stood beside him, looking out at rooftops of New York. “Of course.” She nodded slowly. “I am aware of that.”

  “And so what is it you want?”

  “You don’t like my husband. In fact, I believe you detest him. I’ve seen the way you look at him. It appears we have a common enemy. Tell me what you're after. Perhaps I can be of service.”

  “And what do you want in return?”

  “The glory of seeing Morris Delcour ruined, among other things.”

  “I can’t imagine that would be enough for you. You must want something else.”

  “I do. But it will have to wait. Agree to help me.”