Chapter Thirteen
Before he’d made his first visit to New York City, all those many years ago, Gray had studied an etiquette book until its cover had nearly been worn off.
Some things, such as table manners and manners required for house calls, had seemed natural and easy—his mother would have clouted him for eating like a hog, and his father would have been ashamed if he’d dared to lounge or slouch in someone’s parlor.
But the rules for what, exactly, to say and do at drums, teas, and private theatricals—social occasions that he’d never heard of, much less seen, had boggled him.
For all his mother’s lessons and his father’s example.
Gray was certain a rough boy from the West would put his foot in it somehow, by word or deed.
He suspected that, and not just shyness, was why cowboys were always so short-spoken when there were ladies present.
Now he was grown and educated, he’d been to New York many times; London, Paris, and Rome, as well.
But he purely wished, he thought as he waited for Hannah to come down the stairs of her boardinghouse to meet him, that he’d that old book in hand again just now. Just in case.
He’d come exactly on time and presented his card to her landlady with the right corner turned down to show he was calling in person, even though he knew she’d been expecting him since he’d sent her a note, and had the messenger wait for an answer, the day before.
He’d taken off his hat, and struck a negligent, but not slovenly, pose to show he was waiting, but not loitering.
Now he stood in the downstairs hall with his hat in his hands and his heart in his mouth, like a raw boy, all nerves and dread expectation again. And he loved it.
Because no other woman made him feel that way, and he couldn’t remember being so gladly expectant since he’d waited to see her on Thanksgiving Day.
Now Christmas was breathing down the city’s neck, causing the shop windows to break out in red and green fabric to showcase their goods for the holy season.
He’d seen all sorts of appropriate gifts for her: a silver pin with the masks of comedy and tragedy looking at the world through diamond eyes; a foolish flocked hat with a fantasy of drooping egret feathers that would flatter raven hair as much as snowflakes would; he’d priced a huge silver-ribbed fan as white and feathery as an egret’s wing to match the hat, and an iridescent perfumer made of a hollowed pearly shell to wear on her snowy breast. He saw her in white, but then he saw her in gold; on the way here he’d gazed into the shop windows and envisioned her in red rubies and green emeralds, too.
But he couldn’t give her anything but his gloved hand when she finally joined him, and that only for a moment in order to bow over her gloved one.
Nor would he offer more than his smile, after that.
Because he wanted to do this properly. He’d offer nothing until she was ready to hear him offer her his hand and heart, for life.
He chafed at society’s restrictions, but obeyed them.
He’d never courted a girl before, didn’t want to ever again, and doubted he’d have to, so he almost enjoyed the foolishness and frustration of it, knowing it wouldn’t be for long.
He looked as astonishingly handsome as ever, and so correct in his city clothes that for the first time Hannah rued the fact that her beaming landlady wasn’t a suitable chaperon.
But then realizing that her mother and father wouldn’t have been either, she sighed, placed her hand on Gray’s arm, and let him lead her out into the sunlight.
He helped her up the high seat of his gleaming crimson phaeton, and she exclaimed over the handsome equipage as she unfurled her parasol.
“Well, the horses are purely vanity for me, New York or not, I have to have good ones,” he explained as he steered his team of grays out into traffic.
“And the carriage? Well, I had to cut a dash with you, didn’t I?
Still, now I’m mighty sorry I don’t have a boy in livery hanging onto the back of it, for show, and to let you be easy about your reputation.
Even so, I don’t think the highest stickler could complain.
It would be hard for me to get up to anything in plain sight of the world like this, not to mention this traffic,” he muttered, scowling at a hansom cabdriver as he found himself about to be cut off.
She saw his black looks, “It’s a good thing you can’t wear your guns in public here,” she said too brightly, wondering if he were teasing her about her reputation or not.
“Just what I was thinking,” he said, neatly pulling ahead of the cab with a triumphant flourish of his whip, “though it sure would cut down on congestion here in midtown, no doubt about it.”
They laughed as they painted each other word pictures of shoot-outs and draw-downs between drivers in Madison Square, the center of New York’s social world.
It had been an unusually warm winter, and today the warmth of the sun belied the date on the calendar; sitting up high as she was, with Gray by her side, Hannah felt on top of the world.
She wore her best afternoon gown, a fitted one of a dark cherry color to suit the season and her coloring, with a brighter crimson military-style pelisse, whose cut took the gaudiness from its color; and she’d a sloped, veiled, and fruit-embellished hat atop her upswept hair.
She’d thought she looked very well, Gray’s all-encompassing glance at her when they’d met had verified it.
At this time, and for this moment, however long it lasted, she refused to think of tomorrow and especially tonight.
For now, she was young again, with the person she most wished to be with, and to all outward appearances, as normal as any other woman in New York City…
and much luckier than most, she thought, gazing at Gray’s profile.
He wore a long black ulster over casual jacket and trousers, and had a low crowned top hat on his head, rather than his usual Stetson.
He wore everything fit for a drive in New York City, but she noted, he’d a pair of boots on, and his flaxen hair was longer than most men’s, it covered over the back of his high collar.
And yet it looked so well that she had to leave off looking at it and study the street ahead.
“Royal and Peggy were thinking of staying at the Plaza Hotel now that its about finished being rebuilt,” Gray said, as he steered around a halted horsecar, “so I thought we’d take a look at it because I’m wondering if they mightn’t enjoy the Windsor more—it has an American plan, and at least the paint’s dry there.
We could have luncheon at the Plaza—to test the cuisine,” he said quickly.
“But since it’s just on the edge of the park, I thought we might go for a drive first. It’s Sunday, after all,” he said, when she remained silent.
But she’d only been trying not to grin, or laugh, or weep for joy because it was such a wonderful idea, and so her voice was unsteady when she said, “Oh, yes,” but the glow in her eyes as she did made him nod, and grin.
They drove up crowded Fifth Avenue in a line of coaches, carriages, and horsecars, inching past the reservoir on Forty-second Street and on up past St. Patrick’s grand cathedral, and as they did, they complained about the traffic and discussed the weather until there was no way they could condemn the one or compliment the other further.
Then Gray commented on what he thought Royal would have to say about the traffic, and when they’d done laughing, they began to talk about what to show Peggy and Royal when they arrived, and they were still laughing as they drove into the park.
But even here there was congestion, if, as Hannah noted, of a higher sort.
The unusually clement Sunday had drawn out the wealthy.
The narrow lanes were filled with fine barouches and other family carriages, as well as jaunty, sporty curricles and two-seaters.
The congestion was complicated by corps of well-dressed riders on horseback, as well as by some daring young gentlemen perched high atop their newest “safety” bicycles, leaving the bicycle paths to weave in and out of traffic.
“After last year’s blizzard, I expect everybody’s trying to get as much sunlight as possible, in case it happens again,” Hannah said.
“Can’t store up sunlight or curiosity, I suspect this crew’s just trying to make sure they get seen before it happens again,” Gray said.
Then he exclaimed, “Say! I’ve had enough of this crawling, haven’t you?
Let’s tie up near the menagerie. We can walk and talk—I think it’s our bounden duty to see if the elephants are good enough to show Peggy and Royal, don’t you?
” he asked, his eyes glittering with merriment.
“Oh, well, in that case,” Hannah said, giggling.
“Of course.” She smiled as she wondered what other delightful things he’d get her to do, claiming it was all for Peggy and Royal, and then stopped abruptly as she thought of what other things he might jokingly attempt with that ruse.
And then forced herself to smile again when she saw his sudden look of concern, because she was resolved: she would have this day, if no other.
The elephants were chained outdoors so that they might enjoy the sunny day as much as those that came to see them.
“Why don’t you have them out West?” Hannah asked suddenly, gazing at the elephants as she strolled at Gray’s side.
“They could do ranch work, and I’m sure they could manage mountain trails.
I read an article about them that said they did in their natural habitat in Borneo, or…
someplace like that,” she said, her voice faltering as Gray turned to look down to her with a bemused expression.
“They’d be perfect for laying railroad track and fences, and…
well, at least, so I should think,” she said defensively.