The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (28 page)

Eve stared at him, incredulous.  “Dr. Eckland, I suspect you have a little of the rebel in you.”

He grinned broadly and gave her a little wink.  “Oh yes, my dear, and all of it can be expressed in Shakespeare.  Shakespeare makes all respectable vice, moral—and all respectable morals, vice.”

They fell into easy laughter and then Dr. Eckland poured them both another generous glass of port.  They toasted.

“It will be a glorious night, Miss Kennedy.  A glorious night indeed!”

In the cab on the way home, Eve smiled to herself, allowing herself to forget, for a few precious moments, both Evelyn Sharland and all the heightened emotions she’d been carrying around for days.  She needed to smile, to laugh a little.  She had become as tense as a guitar string, and Dr. Eckland had provided her some much-needed relief by being so comical and entertaining in his excitement about dressing Eve in a lavish gown and walking arm in arm with her down some grand staircase at the Harringshaw mansion.  Eve felt a little like Cinderella, and she was actually looking forward to the occasion. 

As the cab drew up to the curb outside her building, Eve noticed a lavish carriage was parked nearby, its side lamps glowing.  Eve paid the driver and stepped out at the same time she saw Albert Harringshaw emerge from his carriage.  Her heart sank.  What did he want and why was he here?  Whatever it was, it was not good.

CHAPTER 24

The moon was nearly full, sailing out from purple clouds, washing the world in a silvery light.  Albert Harringshaw approached her, a lighted cigar between the fingers of his right hand, his face set in a fixed smile, a practiced smile that held little warmth.  He wore a long coat with fur collar, leather boots and a tall, silk hat.

He exuded class, wealth and, to Eve, suspicious behavior.  She managed a weak smile as he drew up to her.

“Good evening, Miss Kennedy.  It is an enchanting evening, is it not?” he said, touching the brim of his hat.  “The moon is most beguiling.”

“Yes, it is quite lovely.  I see you have been waiting for me.”

“Yes.”

“Not too long, I hope.”

“Not at all.  When a lovely lady is involved, it is never too long a wait, only too long between visits.”  He grinned, assured that his line was a clever one.

Eve thought,
Well, aren’t you the practiced bullshitter of all time, Mr. Full-of-Himself-Harringshaw?

“You are very kind,” Eve said, still forcing her smile.

“I wonder, Miss Kennedy, if you would accompany me to supper?”

Eve glanced toward the house.  “I was just going in to supper.  They’re keeping a plate for me, since I am late.”

“You would do me a great service, Miss Kennedy, and there are some items I would like to discuss with you.”

Eve thought,
Oh God, items.  What does that mean?

“Items, Mr. Harringshaw?” she said aloud.  “What items would those be?”

He looked back at his stately carriage.  His livery man was waiting patiently by the opened door. 

“It would be so much more pleasant to discuss them over supper at, say, The Hotel Brunswick.  They have eleven French chefs in their kitchens and the Burgundy wine selection is without equal.”

Eve didn’t like the sound of the word “hotel.”  She didn’t know if there was some connotation attached to it, some suggestion of impropriety, or some social expectation that she knew nothing about.

“I am a simple girl,” Eve said, modestly, looking down and away.

Albert was perplexed.  “I don’t understand, Miss Kennedy.  A simple girl?  Please enlighten me as to your meaning.”

“Mr. Harringshaw, perhaps we could discuss the issues at a less lavish dining establishment.  As you can see, I am not really dressed for such extravagant dining.”

He looked her over anew.  “You surprise me, Miss Kennedy.”

Again, she didn’t know if that was a bad thing or a good thing, and his expression did little to enlighten her.  He was a blank page.

“Nevertheless, I am your servant, Miss Kennedy, and we shall dine at a humbler establishment.”

He smiled broadly, exposing all his white teeth, and then offered his arm.  Reluctantly, she took it, imagining what Gantly would think if he were watching from a dark corner shadow.

Inside the carriage, Eve sat in comfortable luxury as they traveled uptown toward Broadway. 

“How is Miss Price?” Eve asked.

“She is quite well and she told me to send you her kind regards.”

Oh, I’m sure
, Eve thought, sarcastically.  The woman has no idea where her rich benefactor is, unless of course, Helen hired a private detective to follow Albert around.  But why would she?  She had no power.  All she could do is accuse him of infidelity, which he would either refute or not refute.  It didn’t matter to him either way.  He had nothing to lose.  Helen had everything to lose.

The restaurant was a glitzy, mirrored, pseudo-posh Broadway restaurant with white table cloths, plenty of brass railings, and gilded framed paintings of what Eve supposed were popular actresses of the day. 

Once again, the maître d’ made a sputtering fuss over having Albert Harringshaw as his guest, and the couple drew the adoring eyes of female patrons as they were shown to their private table.  A drawn burgundy drape, tied back by a creamy sash, could easily be released to enclose them in even more privacy, and Eve quickly assumed that Mr. Harringshaw had closed it when he brought other women to this restaurant. 

Eve hoped Albert wouldn’t release the sash.  What would she say if he did?  She didn’t want to hurt his pride, incite his anger or make an enemy.  She also didn’t want him coming on to her because it would be difficult for her to hide the fact that she despised him.

“I hope this is to your liking, Miss Kennedy.”

“It is, Mr. Harringshaw.”

Once again, he ordered without consulting her; first, a bottle of Champagne, and then the dinner:

Soup: Chicken, a’ la Reine

Relishes: Olives, Mango Pickles,

Celery and Assorted Sauces

Meat: Roast Turkey stuffed, cranberry sauce and Giblet Gravy

Vegetables: Peas and Baked Potato

Dessert: Mince Pie, Jellies, Cheese and Candies.

After the Champagne had been poured, Albert ran a finger across his waxed mustache.  He raised his glass and Eve raised hers.

“Let us drink to being thankful for our new and budding relationship, shall we?”

Eve didn’t like the sound of that either.  She offered a stingy smile as they toasted and drank.

After he’d replaced his glass on the table, Albert took her fully into his gaze. “Miss Kennedy, I wonder if you appreciate the excellent situation you are in.”

Eve had no idea what excellent situation he was talking about.  “Well, I am grateful for all the help I have received, Mr. Harringshaw.  Without your generosity when I first arrived, I do not know what I would have done.”

He waved his hand as if to bat the comment away.  “But beside all that, it is time we looked to the present… and also to your future.”

“My future?” Eve asked.

“Yes, an attractive young woman like yourself surely has more plans than just being a nurse in some lower East Side hospital.”

His comment surprised her.  Most women didn’t have careers in the Gilded Age, so what was he thinking?  That she should go to medical school?  Probably not.

 “Well, as a matter of fact, I do have plans, Mr. Harringshaw.”

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

Of course she couldn’t tell him about her plan to save Evelyn’s life and contact John Allister so that he could visit Evelyn and offer marriage.  She certainly couldn’t tell him that she had to find Evelyn’s lantern and return to the 21st century. 

“Yes, I am thinking of going to school to become a doctor.”

His face fell a little.  “A doctor?!  Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Yes, there are women doctors, Mr. Harringshaw.  Surely you are aware of Dr. Ann Long at the Gouverneur Hospital?  And there are others.”

“I am aware, but I do not approve, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve leaned a little forward.  “You don’t approve of what, sir?”

“Women make good nurses and midwives, but doctors?  As I see it, being a physician should be a purely male occupation.  Men are less prone to emotional reactions, and they don’t possess the… natural frailties that all women possess by their very nature.  The male physician understands, by his experience of having a mother, how the weaker sex simply does not have the strength and fortitude for such a profession.  And frankly, Miss Kennedy, what sane and reasonable man would allow himself to be treated by a woman?  It is utterly preposterous.  Surely you grasp the truth of my various arguments, Miss Kennedy, and understand their sound and rational particulars?”

Smugly, certain that his opinions offered irrefutable proof that he was right beyond any doubt, he reached into his coat, drew out a glossy gold cigar case, snapped it open and reached for a cigar. 

“Do you mind if I smoke a cigar?” he asked.

Eve shook her head, and then watched him light it and blow a plume of blue-gray smoke toward the ceiling. 

It took all her 21st century strength not to simply blast him with expletives that would make a sailor blush.  Instead, she reached down deep into her patient soul and managed a very tight, meager smile.

“That is very interesting,” she hissed, through clenched teeth, maintaining her straining smile.

“I knew you would see my point, Miss Kennedy.  But in any event, I was speaking about an entirely different matter.  I want to suggest to you that I could be, let us say, even more generous—even more helpful—than I have been in the past.”

Eve knew what was coming and she wasn’t surprised.  She had long prepared her statement for when he made the romantic pass she knew was inevitable.  She was about to say “
You are so kind and generous, sir, but I will be returning home to Ohio to take care of my dear sweet father and I don’t know when I’ll be able to return.  I just received the letter yesterday.  I’ll be leaving any day now.”

But Albert didn’t say what Eve thought he was going to say.  What he said totally paralyzed her.

He puffed on his cigar, thoughtfully.  “Miss Kennedy, I know you are in the process of plotting to blackmail my brother, John Allister.  You see, I know all about Evelyn Sharland, where she is and what her current condition is.”

Eve stared, dumbly.  “What?!”

Albert waved a cloud of smoke away, and lowered his voice.  “Don’t get me wrong about my brother, Miss Kennedy.  He has it coming.  Frankly, I wish I had thought of the blackmail business.  But never mind about that.  I know you need money and I know you are probably working with some silent partner to achieve your ends.  I regret that I have not yet been able to locate your silent business partner.”

Eve’s face fell apart.  “Silent partner?”

And then the waiter arrived and deposited the two bowls of soup.  Albert picked up his spoon and began to eat.  Eve remained still and stunned.

“Please eat, Miss Kennedy.  You have absolutely nothing to worry about.  That is, if you listen to me carefully.  I have worked it all out for you and I believe you will be exceedingly delighted by the outcome.”

Eve was all ears, feeling her body fill up with a cold, liquid fear. 

“Miss Kennedy, your little scheme will not work.  My brother, for all of his masked morality and romantic stupidity, is a highly intelligent man.  If he hasn’t yet found out about your little plot, he soon will.  You will be caught, Miss Kennedy, promptly prosecuted, and then imprisoned in the Tombs.  Do you know about the Tombs, Miss Kennedy?”

Eve shook her head.

“Ah, yes, you are new to our city.  The Tombs is the informal title of The New York Halls of Justice and House of Detention.  The women’s prison, which occupies the Leonard Street side of the Tombs, contains some 50 cells under the supervision of a chief matron, who, I am told, is not known for her kindness or genteel manner.  Frankly, Miss Kennedy, she can be downright unpleasant to the extreme.”

Albert paused, staring up at the ceiling, as if trying to recall something.  “Now let me see, what did the great author Charles Dickens say about The Tombs when he visited New York?  Something like ‘
What is this dismal fronted pile of bastard Egyptian, like an enchanter's palace in a melodrama
?’”

Albert went back to eating.  Eve had not touched a bite.  She was waiting for the next shoe to drop.  She knew Albert had more to say—much more to say.

“What do you want, Mr. Harringshaw?” she asked, struggling to get the words out, because her throat was constricted with fear.

He slid his soup aside.  He smiled, coolly, and there was calculation and lusty intention in his eyes.

“I find you a madly attractive woman, Miss Kennedy.  You are a bit thin, yes, but you have a bold charm and a vast mystery which I have never before encountered.  I find I cannot keep my mind on business matters for thinking about your many, special qualities.  My imagination spins out fantasies about you, Miss Kennedy, and that keeps me awake at night.  Do I sound like a foolish Romeo, Miss Kennedy?  Yes, I dare say I do.”

Eve felt sick.  She knew what was coming.

“I suggest, Miss Kennedy, that whoever your partner is, you have already compromised his trust, unless, of course, you had planned all along to, shall I say, use your particular feminine gifts to capture the attention, and I dare say, the affection of Detective Sergeant Gantly.”

Eve stared at him with vacant appraisal.  She breathed in, absorbing another shock wave.

Albert indicated toward her champagne.  “Please, Miss Kennedy, have another taste of the Champagne.  It is of the finest vintage—at least as fine as this establishment can provide.”

Eve kept her round, startled eyes on him as she finished half of her Champagne, and then drained the glass.

“Yes, well now, that is better, is it not?   Miss Kennedy, let me conclude our business so we can enjoy our little pre-Thanksgiving Day dinner and get better acquainted.”