Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
T HOMAS’S FIRST MEETING WITH M ISS C ONSTANCE A LBAN HAD BEEN an unqualified disaster. He’d barely gotten a word out. There was so much on the line that his already-feeble social graces had abandoned him completely. If he didn’t convince her father that his attentions were sincere, if he didn’t succeed, then The Empire … it could fall under the heavily weighted type of Alban’s headlines.
His nerves hadn’t been the only thing to get the better of him. There was also the matter of Evelyn. During his introduction to Miss Alban, he’d not been able to restrain himself from comparing the two women—and Miss Alban, despite her good breeding and status, simply could not measure up.
Still, Thomas resolved to redouble his efforts with the newspaper heiress. Meanwhile, he would also withdraw from his acquaintanceship with Evelyn Cross and devote himself to any part of The Empire’s final preparations that might keep him away from her.
Like this morning, for example. After managing a few smaller projects on-site, he left for an abandoned parade ground in Lower Manhattan. Once home to a military installation that had eventually fled for the greener pastures of Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, this patch of dead grass and rain-rotted wood benches now played host to working-class Sunday picnics, the occasional game of stickball, and—every so often—a real spectacle.
It seemed that this abandoned waterside property was one of the only places in an ever-crowding Manhattan with enough space to host wild animals, the kind that populated the sale Thomas Gallier was about to attend.
Without Evelyn.
Or, that was his intent, anyway.
Because when he stepped out of the carriage, she was already leaning against a tree, biting into a hot and generously sugared donut from a crumpled and greasy paper bag.
She beamed. His jaw dropped. That only made her smile all the wider.
“Mr. Gallier. Fancy meeting you in a place like this.” She extended the bag. “Cruller?”
“Hello again, Miss Cross,” he said, quickly composing his features into their usual tight politeness. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here. Or that you’re early.”
Business. Think of business. Do not think about kissing that cinnamon sugar from her lips.
“Nothing I do should surprise you any longer.”
“Too right. But don’t you have a rehearsal to attend?”
“Beatrice is measuring for costumes and Andrew is performing those medicals we discussed.” She met his gaze. “ I’m all yours .”
He opened his mouth.
“Professionally speaking,” she amended.
Heavens, he didn’t stand a chance. She was a sharp-witted wonder, always keeping him on the knife’s edge. He wanted to whisk her away and revel in that delightful repartee of hers for hours—and then do something else with her for hours.
He ground his jaw. He couldn’t let himself think of that. Not when he needed Constance Alban. Not when he needed the papers on his side.
But now that she was here, refusing her would cause a scene. He offered his arm and tried not to shiver when she tucked herself into his side.
“Very well, then. Shall we?”
The parade ground had been transfigured into a cross between a market and a circus. Lines of metal cages and tanks of varying sizes were arranged to create straight, perusable aisles, and in the center, a fenced-off square dotted with inspection blocks served as a center ring of sorts. Each exhibit was a creature available for both personal use and commercial sale. As top-hatted gentlemen of business strolled the selection, rough-faced, large-boned men with calloused hands and baker boy caps stood sentry outside each animal’s enclosure.
Thomas pulled Evelyn into his side as he eyed up a mountain lion. Closeness like this, with her warmth and her scent so near, should have been out of the question, but he worried with the wild beasts nearby.
“So. Enlighten me,” she said. “What, precisely, are we doing here?”
“About a year ago, I laid down a sizable amount of money for a pack of tigers for The Empire. And yet for reasons unknown, those tigers never arrived. After some negotiation”—here, he cleared his throat meaningfully—“my money was returned, and I now have carte blanche to select new creatures for our menagerie by way of restitution. It can be quite dangerous here amongst the animals, so I thought I would allow you to remain at the theater and work. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’ll do you the favor of not calling you on that lie, sir. You clearly just didn’t want to suffer my presence.” Was that a flicker of hurt in her tone? If so, she smothered it with a smile before he could fully appreciate its depths. “Allow me to turn the conversation to more pleasant topics. What are we looking for?”
Together, they strolled the aisles, taking in leopards and piranha alike.
“Something that will draw the attention of the papers.”
“They might as well run our operation, mightn’t they?”
He could practically hear the roll of her eyes. Thomas hated how easily she cut to the truth of matters—always. His humiliating attempt to court Constance Alban last night was proof of the power of the press. He wouldn’t have done it without Nehemiah Alban’s threats looming over him. “More than you know.”
“You’re frightened of them.”
“Aren’t you? They could destroy The Empire. They have destroyed you.”
“Not yet. I’ve still got some tricks left. Besides, they can’t take anything from me worth having. Not really. You would do well to remember that.”
Thomas didn’t like the sound of that. He also didn’t like the familiarity with which she spoke to him—not like a seductress now, but almost like a friend.
They arrived at the edge of a fenced paddock, where a few elephants lingered. They were a family, five in all. Two couples, and a calf with ears so big they tripped her as she splashed around in a water trough.
Struck by the sight of them, arrested by their size and beauty, Thomas quite forgot himself. He watched them with outright wonder.
A small tap on his shoulder distracted him. He turned, assuming it was Evelyn who had done it. But when he looked, it was a large trunk—an elephant trunk. At the same time, another elephant took advantage of his distraction and snatched the top hat right from his head.
He tensed, scanning for anyone who might see this silly breach of etiquette and protocol. But when he realized there was no one except Evelyn to spot his slip-up, he stroked the trunk of the baby elephant, warming to it until, at last, the mother returned the hat (crookedly) to his now-mussed hair. He gave her trunk a small, friendly pat, too.
“They like you. Good judges of character, they are,” Evelyn muttered.
Thomas winced a smile. “If they like me, that guarantees they aren’t good judges of character.”
Looking up at the great gray creatures, he felt a kinship with them he couldn’t quite explain. Given the chance, he might have stayed there indefinitely.
In companionable silence, they lingered by the great animals until an approaching crowd caught Thomas’s attention. The crowd marched straight for them.
No, not them. For Evelyn .
“What is this?” Thomas hissed. He recognized many of them at first glance. Reporters and photographers.
“I just called in some favors. You wanted the press’s attention, sir? You’ve got it.”
How dare she. He hadn’t sanctioned this. It all would have infuriated him before, but given his current tenuous situation with the press and all he was doing to buy their favor, it made him livid . “Miss Cross—Miss Cross, we are leaving.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Evelyn said, twirling to catch his hand before he could run. Her words contained a trace of a girlish giggle. “We still haven’t tested the merchandise! Elephant rides are all the rage, you know.”
“I will not make such a fool of myself. I cannot afford the negative publicity—”
But Evelyn wasn’t listening. She ripped her coat from her shoulders, surrendered her shawl beneath, unpinned her own directoire, and practically tossed them all to Thomas. In exchange, she collected his top hat and set it atop her curls.
To say the look didn’t appeal to him would have been untrue. A lie of the first order.
He wondered, briefly, how she might have looked with fewer of her clothes and more of his. Her own stockings and one of his tuxedo jackets, perhaps?
Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I have not approved this. Are you really doing this for The Empire? Or because you think you’ll get a rise out of me? You are completely mistaken, out of line even, if you think—”
But then, her gentle hands came to settle on his shoulders. Her eyes bore into his. And an unfamiliar sensation of peace settled in upon him. “ Thomas . For once in your foolish life, trust someone else. Trust me.”
When he didn’t say anything, when they both felt like the moment had been too sincere, she winked saucily and added:
“Or, failing that, give me a kiss for good luck.”
That, she said loud enough for the onlookers nearby to hear her, but her grip on his shoulders assured him that this wasn’t for the crowd—not entirely.
Thomas merely shook his head, laughing as if to reassure everyone, including himself, that it was nothing more than a tease.
“Fine,” she said. The reporters had closed in now, and the cameras were at the ready. She was in full performance mode. “Final offer: give me a boost.”
With all eyes on them, Thomas knew he couldn’t refuse.
He slipped one hand to Evelyn’s stockinged ankle and one to the ball of her foot—giving her an indecent boost to the elephant’s back. He burned where they touched. Too intimate. Too addictive.
As soon as she was safely aboard the creature, Thomas stalked away, collecting his feelings. His wants. Himself.
He already wanted her so badly, and yet this very afternoon would almost sign his fate to marry Constance Alban. He would need her father after this show hit the papers. He couldn’t handle Evelyn Cross right now. Couldn’t indulge this ridiculous stunt of hers …
And yet, a few minutes later, Thomas found himself cornered near an amphibian tank by the very journalist who’d snapped them fighting that first day at The Empire. Smith.
“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Mr. Gallier,” the man said, his usual disinterested grimace rising into a grin. “I didn’t think much of this Evelyn Cross bit when you first floated it, but … you might have something here.”
Smith’s gaze then traveled across the parade ground to the center ring, where Evelyn rode the elephant as easily and languorously as a queen carried on a litter. She giggled and flirted and blew kisses and encouraged everyone, simply everyone to come and see her at The Empire in three weeks’ time for its opening. The crowd of journalists turned into a mob of fans, all ready to break with the decided tastes of the day to fall at her feet.
She was not just beautiful or lovely. She was all-consuming.
And so out of Thomas’s reach.
Or very in Thomas’s reach.
If only he would unclench his fist and hold his hand out for her.
Half an hour later, Thomas set off in his carriage with his star.
He was too lost in thought to say anything to her. Her spectacle had drawn plenty of attention, and no doubt, it would make the papers tomorrow. But he was stuck on the last sight he’d seen before ducking into this carriage.
The elephants returning to their cages, shrieking for one another as they were separated.
All their life, they’d been poked and caged and forced to perform. Just like Evelyn.
Just like him.
“The alligators.” Evelyn eventually tutted, oblivious to his wandering mind. “Of all the things you chose from that sale, you chose the alligators.”
“We’ll build them a swamp,” Thomas said, thinking of the albino alligator and its more camouflaged friend, both of which he’d just purchased. “Add turtles. Fish. Maybe some exotic flightless birds. Make it feel like home. The menagerie is big enough for that. The elephants are all very well, but we don’t have the space to build them an entire enclosure at The Empire.”
And I wouldn’t want to, even if I could .
“But you did buy them.”
“Yes,” he conceded, carefully. “One of their handlers knows a fellow who looks after retired circus animals out in Nebraska. The elephants will make an appearance at The Empire’s grand opening, then they’ll settle there. Live out the rest of their lives without being herded into tiny boxes and forced to do tricks for the masses.”
He’d meant to only think that last bit. But it came out—bitter and true.
“Careful now, Mr. Gallier. You may be developing a soft side. And what’s worse, you’re letting me see it.”
Thomas checked his pocket watch. “It was a practical decision. Strategic. If I buy them, no one else in town can.”
“So ruthless of you. Smart. Very calculated.”
She said it with such sincerity, he knew she had to be mocking him.
Streets rolled by. Those elephants and their lifelong servitude to the greedy public made him consider something else.
“I notice you haven’t wanted to talk about my performance. Was it really so awful?”
He fiddled with his top hat, brushing circus straw from its soft surfaces. “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing.”
“How do you do it?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
The carriage clattered against the cobblestone. Newsies screamed the headlines. He had a thousand concerns that should have absorbed his time and energy. And yet, all he could think about was her.
“How do you make everyone love you?”
“Is this a skill you’re hoping to acquire?”
“Tell me.”
Tell me it’s a trick so that I can defend against it . Tell me how to claw my way back from the brink of you .
The sardonic twist in her expression slipped away, leaving only sincerity in its wake. For a moment, it seemed as though neither of them were performing any longer. Thomas wasn’t sure he liked the sensation.
“I suppose I just love people. Care for them. Care about them. And let them love me back. Not a very complicated system.”
He cracked a smile, small and self-deprecating. “Impossible for me, then. I don’t love, I don’t want to be loved, and I don’t have any qualities worth loving.”
“Don’t want to love? Sir. Love is practically the only thing that makes life worthwhile. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”
No. He didn’t suppose anyone had. And every time he’d experimented with the practice before, all parties involved had failed miserably.
As though sensing an opening, Evelyn continued, more earnest than he had ever seen her. “It doesn’t have to be romance—God knows that has its risks—but love? The love we have for our friends, for the people we really care about. That’s the good stuff. Trust me on this. I know it’s not easy, but most of the best things aren’t.”
As the carriage beneath them lurched onward, Thomas wondered what it might be like to trust Evelyn Cross. To trust her not just with their work, which she’d proved already today that she could handle … but to trust her with himself .
Miss Cross straightened and, into his silence, spoke again.
“And on your last point, I must disagree. You do have qualities worth loving. It’s just that you’re like a fine magic trick. All of the true wonders are hidden. And only those who pay the closest attention can see.”
A NOTE FROM THE HISTORIAN
Evelyn’s impromptu elephant show bought them pages upon pages of publicity. The stunt was too good to ignore, the headlines too easy. But they’re all cruel, and I’m the fat lady writing this story, so I get to cancel culture the newspapers of the 1890s.
Fatphobic commentary aside, Evelyn wasn’t wrong: the press from the auction was useful in an all press is good press way, contributing to a general sense of anticipation around The Empire’s impending opening night. Between that and the sudden shift of The Manhattan Daily ’s attitude toward Thomas Gallier in its columns, Thomas found himself invited to more and more parties. All parties where Constance Alban would no doubt be among the guests of honor. But after the elephant incident, Thomas Gallier didn’t attend a single one.
There’s no clear explanation for this change. Just the breathless retellings of Evelyn’s elephant ride and then the sudden drop-off of Thomas’s attendance at the gatherings of Manhattan’s elite. Strange, considering how hard he’d worked to get into them.
If I were the kind to speculate (which we’ve established I definitely am—sue me), I would say that Thomas believed Evelyn’s knack for greasing the publicity machine had produced a way out of his little “court Constance Alban” dilemma.
Whether or not he was right about that assumption? Who’s to say. But what interests me is what small indulgence he allowed himself when he thought he wasn’t going to have to marry the daughter of the most powerful man in Manhattan. What he did with that glimmer of freedom.
Wonder of wonders: he took his best girl to a theme park.