The Christmas Eve Letter: A Time Travel Novel (31 page)

What was this world
?  Eve thought. 
How could these people be so rich amidst so much poverty, with so many children living on the streets
?  But of course this kind of thing was still happening in the 21st century.  It was mind numbing.

At exactly 11:30, the ball began with a hobby-horse quadrille, the first of five quadrilles where the young people of society danced down the grand staircase in lavish costumes.  Eve watched, astounded as Caesar danced with Bo Peep and Marie Antoinette danced with a cowboy.  She turned to see a woman wearing the most striking and odd dress Eve had ever seen:  an emerald satin dress with an embroidered black velvet demon on the front, trimmed with the heads and horns of little demons.  The woman was dancing with a man dressed as a priest. 

Eve stared entranced.  She saw a Joan of Arc dancing with a pirate, and various men dressed like French noblemen dancing with young women dressed as nymphs and gypsies. 

She tried to make sense of this world that was completely outside anything or anyplace she’d ever experienced.  She was on another planet, and she truly did feel like an alien, watching these wealthy, dream-like figures adorned in splendor, posing, flirting and dancing. 

And then Eve saw Albert Harringshaw, dressed in a full-skirted purple velvet coat, with knee-breeches of fawn-colored brocade trimmed with silver point, and a waistcoat trimmed with real silver lace.  He wore white stockings, buckle shoes and a powered wig.  He stood next to a plump, fidgety woman who looked like Queen Victoria.  Dr. Eckland whispered that the woman was Albert’s fiancée, Miss Anne Fulton Hopkins.

Eve watched Albert smile and pose and present a refined, even suave portrait of a gentleman.  Eve knew he was a selfish, pompous, womanizing, entrapping, male chauvinist jerk, and she pitied any woman who would have to marry him. 

Just as Dr. Eckland left her side for a few moments, Albert suddenly turned and noticed Eve.  He stiffened in surprise, his eyes wide with amazement.  For a second he was angry, but then he quickly recovered, smiling faintly and turning away.  A moment later, he glanced back over his shoulder, and his warm, lusty eyes widened with new pleasure.  He obviously liked her costume.

Eve ignored him.  She was glancing about, looking for John Allister, when Dr. Eckland drew up with two crystal flutes of Champagne.  They toasted and drank, as Eve craned her neck, continuing her search. 

And then a stiff, refined, arrogant woman drifted over and said a proper hello to Dr. Eckland.  She had once been his patient.  Dr. Eckland introduced Eve to the 40s something, sour-looking Duchess of Cambridge, who wore a head dress made of diamonds.  Sapphires, rubies and emeralds studded the front her blue satin dress.

“Miss Kennedy is it?” she said, her eyes flickering across Eve’s face and then quickly away with obvious disregard and disinterest.  “How very nice for you,” she said, frigidly. 

The Duchess turned to Dr. Eckland, ignoring Eve.  “Have you seen John Allister Harringshaw, Dr. Eckland?  I am told he is most attractive, though sadly he is engaged to a Miss Elizabeth Ashley Loring, who, I am told, has very little money.”

“How very nice for her,” Eve said, imperiously.  “How very, very nice for her.”

“I beg your pardon?” the Duchess said, turning to face Eve again, her hard eyes focusing anew on her.

“I only meant that having no money and then marrying into a wealthy family like the Harringshaws would make that very, very nice for her, would it not?” Eve said, with a mockingly coquettish grin.  “I mean, actually, that would be very, very nice for anyone, would it not, Duchess?  Say, even for me.”

The Duchess’s face registered shock and offense.  “What blatant impertinence,” she exclaimed, with an affronted sniff and a lift of her chin, before passing Dr. Eckland a hot glance of indignation, and then striding off.

Dr. Eckland flushed.  “Miss Kennedy, please.  That was insensitive.”

Eve grinned.  “Yes, Dr. Eckland.  I thought it might be.  I was hoping it was.”

And then Eve saw John Allister standing next to a beautiful, gushing fountain in what resembled a garden, covered with plants and roses and lilies of the valley.  He stood next to the same woman Eve had seen him with at Delmonico’s, his fiancée.  John was dressed in some sort of duke’s costume, with a three quarter blue brocade coat, white silk lacey shirt, black silk knee-breeches and a powdered wig.  Miss Loring was wearing an ankle-length pink dress with a white, fur-lined collar, a stunning diamond necklace and a gray cape.  She appeared sullenly bored, while John Allister appeared distracted and lost in brooding emotion.

How could Eve get John Allister alone long enough to tell him about Evelyn?  She turned to Dr. Eckland. 

“Dr. Eckland, have you ever spoken to Miss Loring?”

“Well, yes, on one or two occasions.  She is a pleasant woman, if reticent in conversation and rather short in the art of small talk.”

Eve took Dr. Eckland’s arm, wrapping both of hers around it and pulling him in closer to her.  “Would you do something for me?”

“Of course, my dear.  Of course I will.”

“Will you have a little talk with Miss Loring while I have a little talk with John Allister?”

Eve saw sudden alarm on the doctor’s face.  “Miss Kennedy, I am not sure if…”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Eckland, it won’t take long.  It’s just that I have heard so much about him and this will probably be the only time I will be able to speak with him.”

The doctor blustered.  “Well, I just don’t know.  I mean, Mr. Albert Harringshaw wouldn’t approve, would he?”

“Mr. Harringshaw won’t mind, I assure you.  Please, Dr. Eckland.  I promise you it will only be a friendly little chat.”

“Friendly?  Well, I hope so, Miss Kennedy.  I certainly hope it will be a friendly exchange, and not a woundingly sarcastic one as you had with the Duchess.”

Dr. Eckland reluctantly strolled toward the fountain, where John Allister was staring blankly into space.  Miss Loring held a flute of Champagne, but it was obvious that it held no interest for her.

As Eve advanced, it was also obvious that they had no interest in each other.  They had not uttered one word to each other the entire time Eve had been watching them.

John Allister did not notice as Eve approached, but Eve felt anxious and scared.  She had no idea how he would react to her and to her information, and Eve knew that Albert Harringshaw would see her talking to his brother.  What would he do? 

Eve also knew that Detective Sergeant Gantly was around somewhere, although, mostly likely, he was hiding in the shadows, in the hidden hallways, or back staircases.  Eve wished she could see him.  It would help give her confidence. 

So there he was: the real John Allister Harringshaw, tall, with aristocratic bearing, long side burns, a thin, well-trimmed mustache, looking supremely indifferent to his luxurious surroundings and to the woman next to him.  This was the man who had written—or was about to write—or now perhaps would never write, the Christmas Eve letter.  The man Eve had traveled decades into the past to finally meet. 

CHAPTER 27

Eve raised her eyes to study John Allister’s impassive face.  She swallowed and cleared her throat as Dr. Eckland made his introductions.

“Good evening, Mr. Harringshaw and Miss Loring.  What a great occasion, and what a spectacular assembly, all gathered within this incomparable and magnificent mansion.”

Talk about bullshit,
Eve thought.  He was really laying it on thick.  But then these people were the royalty of their day.  They were adulated and followed by a hungry press and public just as the movie stars in the 20th and 21st centuries would be. 

Miss Loring only nodded, saying nothing.

John Allister turned first to see the doctor and then to Eve.  He fixed them both with a cool, dubious stare.

“Good evening, Dr. Eckland,” John said, flatly.  “I trust you are well.”

“Yes, Mr. Harringshaw, I am quite well, thank you.  May I present Miss Eve Kennedy, a former patient of mine?” Dr. Eckland said, nervously.  “She graciously agreed to accompany me this evening.”

Miss Loring looked Eve over with no visible reaction.  She remained in her bored, dreamlike state.

John Allister settled his eyes on Eve.  He saw a pretty face, with sharp intelligent blue eyes, a small mouth with full lips, and a fine neck.  He saw strength in her face and he saw something else: something familiar.  Did he know this woman?

Eve noticed the recognition. 

“Excuse me,” John Allister said.  “Would you be so kind as to repeat your name?” he asked Eve.

“Eve Kennedy.”

“Evelyn Kennedy?” he said formally.

“Yes… Evelyn Kennedy.”

Eve thought,
Did he see the resemblance to Evelyn Sharland?  Is that the reason for his sudden interest
? 

Eve and Evelyn did have the same nose and mouth; the same chin. 

Dr. Eckland leaned toward Miss Loring.  “Miss Loring, I saw some of your watercolors some weeks ago at an afternoon tea.  Perhaps you could tell me something about them.”

Miss Loring blinked, awakening from her daydream.  “How kind of you to recall my little paintings, Dr. Eckland.  I am not, I fear, a particularly gifted artist.”

“On the contrary, Miss Loring, I rather thought your sleigh ride paintings were charming.  Simply charming, and they are so appropriate now that snow is falling and we are approaching the Christmas season of peace and good will.  Perhaps we could refill our glasses and you could tell me more about them.”

And they moved away, with Miss Loring suddenly animated, delighted to discuss her watercolors.  John Allister hardly noticed they’d left.  He was still trying to place Eve.

“Have we met before, Miss Kennedy?”

“We have, Mr. Harringshaw, although I am afraid you will remember the occasion with some distaste.”

“Distaste?”

“We met at Delmonico’s.  Last month, I was dining with your brother and Miss Helen Price and you and Miss Loring came by.”

John Allister’s expression turned dark with disappointment.  He turned his face from her.  “Yes, I recall now.”

Eve glanced around and stepped a little closer to John Allister.  The splashing, hissing water from the fountain was a kind of white noise that muffled their conversation to any person who might happen by.

“Mr. Harringshaw, I need to speak to you about a delicate matter.”

He leaned back slightly.  “A delicate matter?”  His voice took on an edge.  “Miss Kennedy, I can assure you I am not interested in discussing any subject that concerns my brother or his… questionable affairs or affiliations.”

“It does not concern your brother, sir.  It concerns you.”

John Allister pursed up his lips in misgiving.  “Me?  What could you possibly know that would concern me?  I have my doubts, Miss Kennedy, and I find this entire insinuation already quite irregular.  My dear woman, this is not the forum for shadowy communication.”

Was this the same man who had written that tender, pleading and loving letter
? Eve thought.

Eve breathed in courage and determination.  “Mr. Harringshaw, I am speaking about Evelyn Sharland.”

He straightened up, his eyes round with shock.  “Evelyn?” he asked, nearly breathless.

“She does not have tuberculosis.  Evelyn is recovering from typhoid fever and pneumonia at the Gouverneur Hospital.  I am a friend, as well as one of her nurses.  I thought you would want to know.”

Eve watched John Allister’s face slowly fall apart, passing from pride to suspicion to recognition and finally, to a soft, aching tenderness.  It was a remarkable and revealing transition.  Eve saw, clearly, that this man
was
capable of immense feeling and profound love.  It was written all over his handsome face and grateful expression.

“Can it be true?  Can it truly?  Is she saved from death?”

“Yes, Mr. Harringshaw.  Evelyn is getting stronger every day.”

He shut his eyes and nearly staggered.  “Thank God,” he whispered, and when he opened his eyes they held tears.  “Thank God.  She told me of the tuberculosis, of course.  I told her I would get help.  I told her I would send her to Europe for treatment.  I told her I would do anything to save her dear, sweet life.  She did not respond.  From her silence, I thought it was agreed.  I made the arrangements to send her to Davos, Switzerland but she just vanished, with only a note telling me she wanted to protect me from the dreaded disease.  It said she did not want me to go through any further scandal she was sure the disease would bring.  She said she loved me too much for that.  I tried to find her, Miss Kennedy.  Dear God, how I tried, but her mother refused to see me and her brother threatened me with going to the press, not that I minded that, but I knew it would only exacerbate the situation and bring further distress to poor Evelyn.  Thank God she will survive, Miss Kennedy.  Thank God dear Evelyn will survive.  Thank you for telling me.  You have taken a heavy burden off my shoulders, Miss Kennedy.”

Eve drew closer, noticing that they were drawing curious stares. 

“She is not completely out of danger yet, Mr. Harringshaw.  Evelyn is still quite ill, but a visit from you would do wonders to improve her health.  I am convinced of it.  She has called your name many times when she was semiconscious.  She called you Allister.”

Eve saw he was fighting back a towering emotion.  “Yes, that is what she called me.  Allister, never John.  She said she loved the name Allister, and that it fit me so well.”

He slowly recovered from his emotion and squared his shoulders in determination.  “I will see her.  I will go to her right away.  I must see her.”

Eve hadn’t counted on his sudden resolve, believing she’d have to argue and persuade him. 

“Shall we go together, Miss Kennedy?” he asked, excitedly.

“Won’t we draw attention to ourselves and then also to Miss Sharland, Mr. Harringshaw?  Should we not wait perhaps until tomorrow?  I can then prepare her for your visit.  I am afraid your showing up unannounced might give her quite a shock.”