doing what was easy and natural to her—
being gracious and admired and well dressed. In this future, her family was wearing clothes no one could laugh at. Elizabeth looked down, surprised by the sudden, peculiar feeling growing from the pit of her stomach and spreading across her breastbone. It wasn’t happiness, but it was something like relief.
52 ♥elavanilla♥
“How very…” Elizabeth stumbled over her words, not knowing what form they might take until they came tumbling out of her lips. “How very…very, very kind of you, Mr. Schoonmaker.” She forced her face to contort into something resembling a smile. It became easier as the seconds passed, for out of all her warring emotions, a sense of gratitude seemed to be winning the match.
“Thank you.”
Then Henry, taking that as a yes, which it was, picked up Elizabeth’s arm and walked her back to the house. For a minute she thought she saw Will, crossing in front of the house, and nearly panicked. She remembered how carelessly she had declared Henry Schoonmaker a cad the night before, and felt ashamed of having her arm linked with his now, while their relationship progressed recklessly from one minute to the next. Then she realized it was just one of the Parker Fishes’ coachmen out on an errand, and was thankful for the first time in her life not to catch an unexpected glimpse of the man she loved. Of course she would have to tell him, but not now.
Not yet.
“Mr. Schoonmaker,” she said, as they crossed Twentieth Street. “Do you think we could keep this a secret…until the dinner party I mean? Just so everything doesn’t go topsy-turvy at once?”
He nodded in agreement, as though he liked the idea, and then they proceeded up the stairs. She tried to let as little of her body touch his as possible, and promised herself she would tell Will soon. Tomorrow.
“And you can call me Henry,” he said flatly as they paused on the iron porte cochere. “We are engaged.”
She was unable to smile at this. She was too busy wondering if Will might still love her when she was a Mrs. Schoonmaker.
Ten
It is well known that a man, when wooing a lady to be his wife, must first win over the females she most confides in—her friends, of course, and her sister, if she has one.
––MAEVE DE JONG, LOVE AND OTHER FOLLIES OF THE GREAT FAMILIES OF OLD NEW YORK
T HE HOUSE HAD GROWN SILENT. THERE SEEMED TO be nothing happening—not even in the kitchen, where dinner should certainly have been being prepared. Diana moved through the house on light feet, humming a tune in ragtime to herself, listening for some sign of life. It occurred to her that perhaps Mrs. Faber, having got wind of the disastrous state of the Holland finances, might’ve packed up the staff and run off—to join the circus, maybe, or to open a brothel in San Francisco. It seemed inconceivable that, set free in this way, the housekeeper 53 ♥elavanilla♥
would still want the company of dull old Mr. Faber. Diana crept through the back servants’ hall without meeting a soul and into the cloakroom, which was at the end of a long foyer. She felt like she was seeing everything anew. She was poor; she had nothing, and thus, she realized with delight, she had nothing to lose.
She looked at the fur coats and velvet evening wraps hanging along the walls and realized they would have to go. She glanced behind the door for her French lieutenant’s coat— that she would find a way to save—but instead saw a foreign hat. She plucked it from the wall and placed it on her head. It would have been far too large for her except for the fact of her curls, which added enough volume that it fit almost perfectly. Diana turned to the cloakroom mirror and decided that she looked sort of bohemian when she put on the right accessories. Then she peeked out of the cloakroom door and into the long hallway and saw the figure of a man in a black coat, his back turned toward her.
Diana slipped silently down the hall
being gracious and admired and well dressed. In this future, her family was wearing clothes no one could laugh at. Elizabeth looked down, surprised by the sudden, peculiar feeling growing from the pit of her stomach and spreading across her breastbone. It wasn’t happiness, but it was something like relief.
52 ♥elavanilla♥
“How very…” Elizabeth stumbled over her words, not knowing what form they might take until they came tumbling out of her lips. “How very…very, very kind of you, Mr. Schoonmaker.” She forced her face to contort into something resembling a smile. It became easier as the seconds passed, for out of all her warring emotions, a sense of gratitude seemed to be winning the match.
“Thank you.”
Then Henry, taking that as a yes, which it was, picked up Elizabeth’s arm and walked her back to the house. For a minute she thought she saw Will, crossing in front of the house, and nearly panicked. She remembered how carelessly she had declared Henry Schoonmaker a cad the night before, and felt ashamed of having her arm linked with his now, while their relationship progressed recklessly from one minute to the next. Then she realized it was just one of the Parker Fishes’ coachmen out on an errand, and was thankful for the first time in her life not to catch an unexpected glimpse of the man she loved. Of course she would have to tell him, but not now.
Not yet.
“Mr. Schoonmaker,” she said, as they crossed Twentieth Street. “Do you think we could keep this a secret…until the dinner party I mean? Just so everything doesn’t go topsy-turvy at once?”
He nodded in agreement, as though he liked the idea, and then they proceeded up the stairs. She tried to let as little of her body touch his as possible, and promised herself she would tell Will soon. Tomorrow.
“And you can call me Henry,” he said flatly as they paused on the iron porte cochere. “We are engaged.”
She was unable to smile at this. She was too busy wondering if Will might still love her when she was a Mrs. Schoonmaker.
Ten
It is well known that a man, when wooing a lady to be his wife, must first win over the females she most confides in—her friends, of course, and her sister, if she has one.
––MAEVE DE JONG, LOVE AND OTHER FOLLIES OF THE GREAT FAMILIES OF OLD NEW YORK
T HE HOUSE HAD GROWN SILENT. THERE SEEMED TO be nothing happening—not even in the kitchen, where dinner should certainly have been being prepared. Diana moved through the house on light feet, humming a tune in ragtime to herself, listening for some sign of life. It occurred to her that perhaps Mrs. Faber, having got wind of the disastrous state of the Holland finances, might’ve packed up the staff and run off—to join the circus, maybe, or to open a brothel in San Francisco. It seemed inconceivable that, set free in this way, the housekeeper 53 ♥elavanilla♥
would still want the company of dull old Mr. Faber. Diana crept through the back servants’ hall without meeting a soul and into the cloakroom, which was at the end of a long foyer. She felt like she was seeing everything anew. She was poor; she had nothing, and thus, she realized with delight, she had nothing to lose.
She looked at the fur coats and velvet evening wraps hanging along the walls and realized they would have to go. She glanced behind the door for her French lieutenant’s coat— that she would find a way to save—but instead saw a foreign hat. She plucked it from the wall and placed it on her head. It would have been far too large for her except for the fact of her curls, which added enough volume that it fit almost perfectly. Diana turned to the cloakroom mirror and decided that she looked sort of bohemian when she put on the right accessories. Then she peeked out of the cloakroom door and into the long hallway and saw the figure of a man in a black coat, his back turned toward her.
Diana slipped silently down the hall
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