by Linda Ladd
Odette left in a flutter of excitement, and Alysson looked around the homey room with clusters of pink roses on cream-colored wallpaper and ruffled white curtains. Above her, hand-crocheted ivory lace hung in a tasseled pattern off the curving rosewood canopy. She sighed, remembering the sweetness of her dream, as a soft chiming took her eyes to the porcelain clock atop the white mantel.
It was not the first time she had thought of Donovan during the two days they had been in New York, and she had already admitted to herself that she missed him. Even after his insulting proposal, she wanted to see him again. Angry at herself, she threw back the soft chenille spread and stepped on the embroidered bed-stool, then down to the worn flowered carpet covering the floor. She crossed to the wing chair beside the open window, perching on its arm a moment to peer down into the narrow street two floors below.
It was a beautiful day, though already hot, despite the early hour, and nattily dressed gentlemen strolled along the paved walks with ladies carrying brightly colored parasols. The bright sunshine brought a smile to her face. Ever since they had left the Halcyone and settled into their rented rooms at Mrs. Thackeray's House for Boarders on Ann Street, the skies had been dark and gray. Hours of rain and drizzle had plagued the city. But although they had barely set foot out of the house, she had enjoyed her time with her friends, for they had taught her to dance, and to play several parlor card games that were quite enjoyable. But now, at last, she could explore New York!
The warm breeze caressed her face, enticing her to stay at the window, but it was already ten o'clock, and she moved to where a bright yellow pitcher and bowl sat on a high mirrored stand. She bathed her face, the water cool and refreshing, then patted it dry. Rosalie had insisted that she share a room with Odette, and Alysson had welcomed the idea. During the lonely years in Cornwall, she had often longed for a young female friend, and though Odette's constant chatter sometimes was wearying, she enjoyed the French woman's worldly tales of Paris and the life she had led there.
She sorted through the dresses hanging in the tall oak armoire, selecting a cool gown of pastel lemon muslin, hoping the low rounded neckline would be comfortable in the heat. She had a feeling the summers in New York would be very much warmer than those of England. She donned the dress quickly, brushing her hair into a loose knot atop her head, with fine golden tendrils wisped around her temples and nape. Remembering her tendency to sunburn, she picked up a white straw hat with pink ribbons and the silk parasol that matched her dress. She hurried out into the upstairs hallway, feeling very hungry. Dark blue wallpaper sporting huge pink carnations led the way down the steep front stairs, proving the buxom Mrs. Thackeray's love for flowers, and the muted hum of conversation and clink of cutlery behind the dining room doors indicated that breakfast was still being served.
Alysson stopped in the doorway and searched among the tables until she found Odette and the others at a table overlooking the small walled garden behind the house. The mouth-watering aroma of the flaky biscuits for which Mrs. Thackeray was famous wafted enticingly in the air, and Alysson moved to the mahogany sideboard where a long mirror reflected large platters of breakfast fare kept warm by blue and white flowered china domes. Her friends bid her good morning as she sat down in her place beside Odette, and she smiled at Edgar as he filled her cup with the strong bitter coffee that Mrs. Thackeray served each morning. She sipped it, wishing it was the flavorful tea that Mathilde had brewed in the cottage.
"The parade is to begin at the north end of Broadway, near Catherine Street,” Edgar said. “When it ends down at the Battery, the flotilla will sail in front of the viewing stands set up there. It should be a grand show."
"Oh, it will be great fun!” Odette cried, eyes shining. “I am sick of cards and parlor games and having Billy tromp on my toes!"
Billy blushed as the others laughed, for he well knew what a battering he had given Odette's feet when she had taught him the waltz.
"What is this celebration, Rosalie?” Alysson asked as she picked up a small pitcher of honey and poured a bit over her biscuit. “I have heard no one say, but I cannot remember a festival on the fourth day of July when I was little."
Her remark caused a short silence followed by an outbreak of amused laughter, leaving Alysson as well as Odette and Billy looking around in surprise.
"I daresay you British wouldn't consider it a day to rejoice over, my dear,” Rosalie answered, still smiling. She patted Alysson's hand. “Today is our Independence Day, the day we severed all ties with England and your king."
"Oh, I see,” Alysson said, feeling quite foolish not to have known.
Edgar smiled at her. “Nearly thirty years it's been since we became free, and every year we celebrate this day to show how proud we are to be Americans."
"I have thought of hiring a conveyance to take us down to the harborfront,” Rosalie said, changing the subject. “But I am sure the streets will be crowded with carriages and such. Would any of you be averse to the walk? Broadway should be quite gaily decorated, and the girls and Billy really haven't seen much of the city yet."
"Oh, oui, madame, let us do that! Perhaps we will meet some rich and handsome American men who will want to come calling on us!"
Rosalie eyed the two smiling young gifts across from her, one so blond and fair, the other dark, but both lovely to look upon. She would have trouble indeed keeping the men away from them—she had met her own late husband after he had seen her in a performance, God rest him—but Donovan had been most explicit about her keeping an eye on Alysson. “Let us be on our way,” she said, “or it will be impossible to find a place in the stands."
Alysson paused on the brick stoop with its decorative yellow iron rails and pots of geraniums, letting the others move ahead of her to the sidewalk, where couples and family groups were making their way down Ann Street to the parade route. Billy stood at the bottom of the steps, and as he looked up at her, she admired the way he looked in his stylish brown frockcoat and matching waistcoat. He no longer looked like a young lad but like a dashing rake, and Alysson was proud to have him as an escort.
She snapped up the eyelet-edged yellow parasol and laid it against her shoulder, and Billy grinned widely as she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. They followed along after Rosalie and Edgar, who led their little procession, with Odette and Milton in the middle.
"Isn't this a lovely street, Billy?” Alysson murmured as they strolled past the neatly kept buildings of red brick. Most of the front doors opened directly onto the street with small porches protecting the entrance, and on this day of patriotic celebration, brightly colored American flags abounded everywhere, vivid with their red and white stripes and stars. Great festoons of red, white, and blue bunting draped the upstairs balconies and windows, with paper streamers floating off lamp-posts and hitching rails.
"I wish I had been born here,” Billy said suddenly, with enough wistfulness in his voice to bring Alysson's eyes to him.
"Don't you feel like an American right now, though?” she returned gaily.
"I do, and I intend to pretend I am, so no one will know."
The sparkle in her green eyes made Billy laugh, and Odette smiled back at them as they turned down Chatham Row toward Broadway. Just across from them, a three-cornered park with tall, beautiful trees and neatly planted flower beds surrounded a stately public building with an elegant cupola high atop the roof.
"That's City Hall across the way there. A Frenchman by the name of Mangin designed it. I met him once when he was working on the Park Theater,” Edgar told them, then gestured with his ivory walking cane to the wide avenue stretching out before them, full of rattling wagons and every conceivable type of bunting-draped conveyance. “Odette, love, Broadway is where all the young men dally about when the weather is fine to flirt with the young ladies who use this walk as a promenade to show off their newest gowns and bonnets."
"What good fortune, then, that it is so close to our house,” Odette returned, eagerly pulling
on Milton's arm to lead him in that direction. The rest of their party followed them, crossing through the cool circles of shade from the trees lining the busy street. They were soon caught up in the hordes of pedestrians crowding the length of Broadway to await the start of the parade.
At the corner of Cortlandt Street and Broadway, Edgar bought each of them a small American flag from a grinning, curly-haired child, and Alysson and Billy waved theirs with pride as they pushed their way to a good viewing position just behind the long hitching rail of an apothecary shop.
The bustling excitement and noisy crowd reminded Alysson of the London fairs she had attended with her grandfather Laurence, and it was hard for her to believe that those days had been so long ago, and now, an ocean away. Thoughts of England brought the painful uncertainty of Mathilde and Freddie's fate, but the distant sound of drums and fifes sent all such memories fleeing from her mind, and those around her broke into a cheer as a military band came into sight several blocks up the street.
Alysson placed her gloved hands on the rail, leaning forward so she could see the approaching musicians better. Her smile faltered as she caught sight of a tall, lean man just across the street. His black hair blew in the wind as he leaned down to speak to the woman beside him, and Alysson's heart sped alarmingly. A moment later when he turned slightly, she realized it was not Donovan. She felt somehow relieved, yet deeply disappointed at the same time, and she frowned at her own perversity, annoyed with her weakness. Why did he haunt her the way he did? He had certainly made no attempt to see her again or to try to change her mind about becoming his mistress. She would probably never see him again, and she should be glad about it! But even as she harbored such thoughts, her eyes scanned the jostling, whistling crowds around her and she wondered where he was and with whom he was viewing the parade.
The throbbing drums came closer, and Milton leaned close to her and spoke loudly over the rousing tune of the marching band. “They're wearing the uniforms of the Continental Army! From the Revolution!” he shouted. “See that float behind them? That's General Washington. He was our first President!"
Alysson could vaguely remember hearing her grandfather speak of George Washington, and not in the most reverent of terms, but she looked with interest at the seven-foot-tall likeness of the famous American. A squad of uniformed honor guards marched in queues along each side of the float, and the handsome, tanned officer in charge saluted smartly to Alysson when she smiled and waved her tiny flag.
"Look there! Aly! Billy! The Americans honor FranÇais!" Odette cried, excitedly pointing to the next bunting-covered wagon. Perhaps fifty French flags decorated a statue of General Lafayette, and Odette cheered and clapped with enough enthusiasm to gain her the smiling attention of those nearby.
Alysson laughed and applauded as well, until the next float sobered her. She stood silent amidst the cheering at the sight of the fallen British soldiers portrayed there, scarlet coats filthy and bloodstained, the proud Union Jack dragging behind the wagon. It was more than startling to see her country so defiled as a villainous enemy, and she glanced at Billy but found him clapping with wild enthusiasm. She looked back at the float, readily understanding why the people of New York applauded such a sight. They had fought and won their war for independence long before she was even born, but Edgar had told her much about the suffering and hardship the people of Manhattan had endured before the victory had been won.
The shrilling notes of a horse-drawn calliope followed, the calliope carried by a wagon fashioned after a Roman chariot. She was more impressed, however, and rather frightened, as a huge gray beast lumbered toward them, a man in flowing Arabian robes upon a scarlet-draped seat high atop the animal's back. She had never seen an elephant before, and both she and Odette stepped back fearfully as the tusked monster passed their spot. Acrobats and tumblers in beautiful costumes leapt and cavorted, and were followed by magnificent white horses with long flowing manes and arched tails. The beautiful animals pranced gracefully past them, hooves ringing on the bricks.
"Those Arabians are from the MacBride stables. See the silver M on the saddles,” Milton whispered in Alysson's ear, and Alysson hated herself for her eager search of the riders, who handled the spirited horses with expertise. The man she sought was not among them, and she watched several squads of war veterans march past before horse-drawn firewagons ended the parade.
The spectators turned en masse toward the Battery Park, and Alysson proceeded along with Billy, both of them eagerly digesting the sight and smells of their new country. The streets seemed very straight and wide after the twisting, narrow lanes of London, and as they came upon the older part of the city, Alysson could detect the Dutch influence in the narrow buildings with stepped gables. They passed shops of every description: a grocery, a printer's, a tailor's shop, a stationer's store, a shoemaker's shop, a cloth merchant's emporium, fish and oyster markets with their smell of the sea; but it was at the shop of Madame Bouvier, a famous couturiÈre, that she and Odette lingered, exclaiming over the tiny fashion dolls displaying the latest rages of Europe. Above the streets, people hung out the windows, shutters thrown wide in the noonday sun.
When Alysson's party passed the neat verdant lawn of Bowling Green to cross the busy intersection of Market and State streets to the Battery, Alysson remembered that Milton had pointed out the park to them as the Halcyone had sailed up the East River.
It was much larger than it had seemed from the ship's rail. Tall trees dotted the grass with shady spots, and she noted that many young trees had been planted in orderly rows along a railed brick walk which overlooked the vast island-dotted harbor. Dozens of ships and smaller craft floated in the choppy gray waters in readiness for the naval parade, their masts and sails decorated with bunting and flags. As they moved along the walk where makeshift tents and awnings had been erected to shield spectators from the hot sun, Rosalie pointed to the huge Battery flagstaff, which Alysson thought resembled a gigantic brick butter chum.
"There, by the flag, we would have a splendid view of the flotilla. Come along, girls. Stay close so we won't become separated. In this throng, we would never find each other!"
The sea breeze touched their faces, invading their long skirts with welcome coolness as they walked along until the boom of a cannon from the newly constructed Castle Clinton caught their attention. Sails were hoisted one by one on the ships, and as wind filled the canvas, the first ship in line sailed past the Battery grandstands to enter the Hudson River.
"Rosalie? How very nice to see you again so soon!"
Alysson turned as the masculine voice came from behind her, just as the tall man who had spoken bowed from the waist to kiss Rosalie's hand. He was dressed richly in a dark green jacket, the buff-colored waistcoat cut fashionably short atop matching breeches and dark boots, the cuffs of which were turned back at the knee to reveal a buff lining. Alysson thought him most attractive with his white-blond hair and long curving sideburns, and she studied him surreptitiously, wondering who he was as he carried on a polite discussion about the parade with Rosalie. A moment later, he turned to her and smiled, his eyes brown and warm and friendly.
"And you, I suspect, must be the lovely Miss Tyler?"
Alysson was surprised that he knew her name but returned his very pleasant smile as Rosalie introduced them.
"Alysson, let me present Mr. Douglas Compton. You remember my mentioning his name, I am sure. I went to see him yesterday at the Park Theater."
"How do you do, Mr. Compton,” Alysson said, and the smiling brown eyes held her for an instant longer before Rosalie introduced him around her group. He greeted each person with equal politeness, but immediately after the introductions were complete, he turned back to Alysson.
"I would be pleased if you all would join me to view the flotilla in my tented pavilion. I am sure that you ladies would enjoy the spectacle much more there out of the sun."
Rosalie smiled gratefully. “How very kind, Mr. Compton. We would be delighted."
<
br /> "It's just across the walkway there. May I have the pleasure of escorting you, Miss Tyler?"
He crooked his arm in invitation, and most impressed with his gallant manners, Alysson put her hand on his arm. It faintly surprised her when he familiarly covered her gloved fingers with his hand, but he gave her no time to withdraw it as he led her toward a blue and white striped awning held aloft by red poles.
A Negro manservant in spotless white livery awaited beneath the red-fringed canvas where velvet-cushioned chairs had been placed. Douglas Compton took Alysson's elbow and led her to the chair next to his own, and she sat down, just as salutes were fired from the ships passing the Battery. Alysson watched in fascination, awed by the huge naval frigates and merchantmen with sailors perched high on the yards above the decks. All the while, she remained very aware of the man beside her as he showed an acceptable degree of attention to her, at times pointing out the name of a ship or offering her refreshment from the table of lemonade and sweetcakes tended by a second servant.
"Look Alysson, the Halcyone!" Odette exclaimed, and Alysson leaned forward with interest as the graceful ship with its carved figurehead sailed into sight.
"The Halcyone? Is that not one of the MacBride ships?” Douglas asked, and Alysson looked away from him, angry at the blush rising in her face.
"Yes, she is captained by Brace MacBride. We made the crossing on her."
"I see. I have a spyglass here. Would you like a better look at her? Perhaps you will spot someone you know in the crowd at her rails."
Alysson looked at the spyglass he held, wanting very much to scan the Halcyone's decks, but she hesitated, because she knew with self-contempt for whom she would look. At her hesitation, Odette leaned around, with a disarming smile to Douglas Compton.
"May I look through the glass, Monsieur Compton, if Alysson does not wish to? I would very much like to see the handsome captain once more.” Douglas handed her the glass, and she smiled as she focused it on the swift-moving ship. “There he is at the quarterdeck rail! We have seen him there often, have we not, Alysson?"
