“I’m afraid that you’ll have to ask Mrs. Rinkhart to do that, miss.”
Cordelia sat up and like a shadow, so did Mabel. “Tomorrow is your afternoon off, is it not?”
“Yes, miss.”
“If you promise to deliver my letter next door, I will give you my diamond earrings.”
“If Mrs. Rinkhart or Mrs. Jones find out, I will lose my position.”
“My diamond earrings are worth more than you make in a year—ten years, even. You could start a new life with them.”
Mabel did not speak for several minutes. Cordelia knew the maid was not asleep, for she was still sitting up in her cot.
“I’ll do it, miss.”
“Thank you, Mabel.” Cordelia leaned back against her pillows and sighed in relief.
She did not sleep well that night and woke up the next morning at sunrise. She took out her stolen pen and ripped piece of paper and began to write:
My dearest Stuyvesant,
You will not believe what I am about to tell you, but please trust that this is no jest. My mother is keeping me locked in my room until I promise to marry an old English lord, but I could never marry another man, when you hold all of my heart. Please come at once, or if you cannot get past the front door, seek help from my father. He has not visited, but I pray he has not completely disowned me. I fear if I stay in this room much longer, I shall run mad. I am growing weak and pale. Please, my dearest friend and darling love, please help me.
Always Yours, Cordelia
She blew on the paper until the ink dried and she folded it up. Corking the ink, she stuffed both underneath her mattress. She tiptoed to the cot and placed the letter in Mabel’s hand.
“I’ll need the diamond earrings before I’ll take this.”
“Fine,” Cordelia whispered. She tiptoed back across the room and took the diamond earrings from her jewelry box. Her father had given her the earrings for her sixteenth birthday. Back when he still lived at home and loved her.
The sound of footsteps approaching her room brought her back to the present. She dashed back to the cot and handed over the diamond earrings without another word, then rushed back to her bed and crawled into it. She pretended to be asleep, when Madame Raubier entered the room with her breakfast tray, but she couldn’t quite suppress a smile on her lips. Her heart beat rapidly and she had to clench her hands to stop them from shaking. It had been several months; Stuyvesant had to be back from South America now and he was going to save her. She knew it.
6
Oliver had been right, Thomas realized as he disembarked fromQueen Adelaide. Once the first-class passengers on the ship had learned that he was the Earl of Farnham, they’d gone out of their way to befriend him. He’d received Cuban cigars, French wines, and countless invitations from perfect strangers. The night before, he’d received card after card with names and addresses. Every one of them eager to assure him that he’d be most welcome, should he choose to call on them. He would have been flattered had he not known that the title was hollow. His estate was in ruins, and the cash in his pocket was borrowed.
Thayne carried his trunk and Thomas found them a coach for hire to take them to the Waldorf Hotel on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-Third Street. One of his new “friends” had recommended it. The coach stopped in front of an enormous, opulent building that rivaled or surpassed any site in London. A porter ushered him inside to an octagonal room that was as ornate as a palace. Everyone in the room was dressed finer than he’d ever seen. The ladies were all dripping in jewels, from their ears to their necks, to their wrists, to their fingers.
Once again, when Thayne mentioned that Thomas was the Earl of Farnham, the staff went out of their way to accommodate them. Thomas was led to an elaborate corner suite, with floral wallpaper, cornice moldings, and a painted coffered ceiling. There were chairs, a dining table, and even a piano. The adjacent room had a bed fit for a king and he had his very own bathing room with a water closet. A luxury he’d never before experienced.
“Will these rooms be satisfactory, my lord?” the porter asked.
“Yes, thank you. That will be all.”
Once the porter left, Thayne sat down on Thomas’s trunk and laughed. Thomas joined in his mirth.
“To think a couple of weeks ago I was mucking out the stalls, and now we’re sitting in a grand hotel like blooming kings.”
“I did not expect America to be like this.”
“Me neither, my lord.”
Thomas felt his color rise. “You don’t need to call me ‘my lord’ all the time, Thayne. It wasn’t that long ago that we played together as children.”
Thayne stood up, as if recalling his duty. “But we grew up, my lord. You are no longer Master Thomas and I’m not Edwin, the gamemaster’s son. And thanks to you, I am an upper servant and ever so grateful to be called Mr. Thayne, or simply Thayne. Most blokes have to work for years before they reach my current station.”
“Of course, Thayne. I meant no offense.”
