Chapter 7
The sound of church bells woke me up on Christmas morning. Frost hugged the edges of the windows in my bedroom, but the air was warm. No draft or hint of winter inside the palace-like room on Fifth Avenue.
Aunt Maude wouldn’t stand for it.
“Good morning, miss,” Gallagher said as she opened the shutters a little wider to let in the brilliant sunshine. A fire crackled in the hearth behind her. “And Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said as I sat up in bed and stretched.
Slowly, I lowered my arms as realization dawned.
As of yesterday afternoon, the adoption had been finalized. I was now legally Clara Day Hill.
But that was hardly the most exciting—or terrifying—thing about today.
For the first time since Alec and I had returned from Five Points, I would leave the house again. And I would interact with other people—society people—who must never know the truth about my identity.
“Mrs. Hill has decided you shall wear the burgundy cut-velvet silk with chenille fringe to church,” Gallagher said in her brisk manner.
We’d spent two months together, but I knew very little about her and she about me.
Aunt Maude had cautioned me not to get close or personal with the staff and Gallagher made it easy. I wasn’t even sure if she liked me.
“Is that her final decision?” I asked. “She’s changed her mind half a dozen times since yesterday.”
“I believe so, miss.”
It didn’t matter to me. I had dozens of gowns, and though I liked some more than others, I had tried to keep my own preferences to myself. There was little point in stating my opinions since Aunt Maude made almost every decision for me.
As I bathed and allowed Gallagher to help me with my church toilette, my excitement and trepidation mounted.
I had been living on Fifth Avenue for two months—two of the most grueling and tiring months of my life.
And today the entire experiment would be put to the test. Not only would I be required to attend Aunt Maude’s church, but this evening, she was hosting a dinner party.
If all went well, we would start to pay calls on New Year’s Day and hopefully, I would receive invitations to society functions.
The grandest coup of them all would be an invitation to Mrs. Vanderbilt’s costume ball, to be held at the end of March.
Three months away and it was already being hailed as the most remarkable and extravagant party the city had ever seen.
Over a thousand guests would be invited.
My performance over the next couple of months would determine if I was to be one of them.
And then, England.
But none of that was as important as what would happen as soon as Gallagher finished my toilette.
I would have breakfast, alone, with Alec.
As soon as I was dressed, I left my room and made my way downstairs toward the breakfast room.
Aunt Maude would have her breakfast in bed, as was the custom for most married ladies.
Since my arrival, she’d been eating breakfast with Alec and me, but now that I was officially adopted, she felt it important that we create a standard routine.
I tried not to look too eager as I crossed the front hall, slowing my step. I wasn’t even sure if I could stomach breakfast with the butterflies wreaking havoc inside me. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass Aunt Maude or, worse, disappoint Alec—and it was making me feel ill.
Alec was sitting at the head of the table, leaning forward, his hands clasped, his elbows on the table. He stared out the window at the frozen world beyond, deep in thought.
The aroma of sausages, cinnamon, and fresh-baked pastries filled the small, intimate room, tucked into the corner of the house.
Breakfast had been set on the sideboard, meant to be dished up as each family member arrived, but the lids were still in place.
Higgins and the first footman stood silently by the door to the butler’s pantry, waiting.
“Merry Christmas,” I said as I stepped into the room.
Alec tore his gaze from the window and rose at my entrance. His hair was still damp, and his face freshly shaved. He was dressed in a fine, black suit, ready for church.
He took in my appearance, an approving smile lighting his face. “Merry Christmas, Clara. You look lovely this morning.”
I’d had months of practice and now smiled easily at his compliment. “Thank you.”
The footman lifted the lids off the silver chafing dishes and stepped back so we could fill our plates.
There were cheese turnovers and egg fritters, alongside sausages, cinnamon pear butter, crumpets, and stewed apples. I wasn’t sure if I could eat a bite, but I filled my plate, conscious of Aunt Maude’s reprimands to put on a little more weight before we traveled to France for my Worth wardrobe.
I also thought of my family in Five Points and the meager breakfast they would be eating.
I had used my remaining money and sent Gallagher off to purchase gifts for Imogen, Polly and Patrick.
They should have been delivered by now, and though I hadn’t included a card, I suspected they knew where the gifts had come from.
It was the least I could do as I enjoyed all this splendor. I only hoped I could do more one day.
The footman held my chair for me as I took a seat and then Higgins filled my glass with orange juice and Alec’s with coffee.
“Thank—” Alec paused and then nodded at Higgins. “That will be all. You may join the others for your own Christmas breakfast.”
“Sir?” Higgins asked with a frown.
“Miss Hill and I can serve ourselves.”
Higgins continued to frown, but he bowed at the waist and then shooed the footman from the room, disappearing behind the butler’s pantry door.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Alec said to me. “I can’t abide having someone looking over my shoulder as I eat.”
I grinned. “I don’t mind in the least. I haven’t eaten a single thing without an audience in two months.”
“Aunt Maude will have my head when she hears.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “But it shall be worth it.”
I reached for my fork, but Alec stopped me.
“May I say grace?” he asked.
I paused, a little surprised. I had been raised in a Catholic church and attended each week, but it had been out of obligation and tradition.
Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla never spoke of God or worried overmuch about what He thought of them outside Mass.
Aunt Maude attended her church every week, as well, but it had been much the same.
“Grace?” I asked.
“I say grace silently before each meal, but I miss sharing it with my family, especially on Christmas morning. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said quickly, though I did feel a bit awkward. Was I expected to know how to say grace? Did he have a memorized prayer in mind? I worried my bottom lip, afraid I would start this day with a mistake even before I left the house.
Alec surprised me, again, by offering me his hand. “May I?”
With a frown, I took his hand and watched as he closed his eyes.
The pressure of his fingers against mine was all I could think about as I, too, closed my eyes.
His prayer was brief—yet heartfelt. It wasn’t a memorized litany of words, but a prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude for our many blessings.
After he said amen, I slowly opened my eyes and found him smiling at me.
“Thank you,” he said as he let my hand go.
I was speechless. I’d never heard anyone pray as he had just done. Could one talk to God as if they were speaking to a friend?
“You look surprised,” he said, a smile in his voice and eyes.
Was this yet another thing I had not been taught? Warmth filled my cheeks, and I tried not to look as ignorant as I felt.
“Do you not speak to God, Keira?”
He only called me Keira when we were alone, which wasn’t as often as it had been at the beginning. Every time he said my name, I felt a strange pang. It was a bittersweet feeling, since it was the name my mother had given me—yet it was connected to a past I wanted to forget.
“I speak to Him in church,” I said, hoping that would appease him. “When I recite the Lord’s Prayer.”
“You believe He exists?”
“Yes.” I knew God was there—I just wasn’t sure if He was aware of me.
“You can speak to Him anywhere you like,” Alec assured me, probably seeing the skepticism on my face.
“He is not confined to a church building or to the clergy. He is present, everywhere, and He loves talking to His children. You can share your hopes and dreams, and your fears and frustrations. You can speak to Him as I’m speaking to you. ”
I tried not to frown, but I couldn’t help it. His words were astonishing to me.
“Try it,” he said with a chuckle. “I promise it’s true. You can also read the Bible and see for yourself that it’s full of people talking to God.”
The thought of speaking to God or reading the Holy Bible was both exciting and terrifying. For as long as I could remember, I’d been taught that it was the priest’s job to read and interpret the Bible for me. And that he would petition God on my behalf. Was it blasphemy to approach God on my own?
We began to eat our breakfast, but Alec stopped me once again.
“I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small box wrapped in brown paper packaging. He set the box on the table and slid it toward me. “Merry Christmas, Keira.”
I blinked in surprise. The only Christmas gifts I had ever received were second-hand gifts such as dresses, shoes, or books through the mission workers in Five Points.
No one had ever purchased a gift with me in mind.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I said.
“I didn’t expect you to.” He nudged the box a little closer to me. “There will be more gifts later, after church, but I wanted to give this to you now.”
It took me a moment, but I finally reached for the box and untied the string. The paper fell away, and I lifted the lid.