Chapter Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
Frances
Frances looked at Lorenz with trepidation.
He was handsome, yes, but in a rugged, almost rough way, especially around the eyes.
There was something dark about them, and he frightened her a little.
He had a consumptive look about him, too—she recognized it from her brothers.
They’d all had the disease, but it had spared her.
Mama said it was because she was destined for greatness, that she needed to get out of South Carolina and make her fortune as a singer in New York City.
Well, she’d been here for a month now and was already on her last few pennies when that vagabond had stolen her pocketbook and ran away, less than an hour ago.
Frances sniffed the drink that had been placed in front of her by the man who had tried to help her find the thief. Lorenz was shuffling an oversized deck of cards. The vapors from the drink burned her eyes, blurring her vision.
“What would I have to do?” she asked before sipping the brandy carefully.
The liquid set her taste buds alight and burned a trail of fire down her throat, so furious that she spluttered. Frances had never tasted hard liquor before. She placed the glass on the scarred wooden table and cleared her throat as he continued shuffling.
“That is the wonderful thing—you need to do nothing! You would accompany me to a salon and meet the artists, then spend an hour or two sitting in the center of the room while they sketch you from different angles. It is called life drawing.”
“Oh.” Frances sipped the brandy again, finding it more palatable this time. “And you would pay me for that?”
“Not I,” Lorenz said, smiling at her. She shrank back into her chair, finding the expression wolfish, unsettling. “The artist who runs the salon would pay you. One or two hours of work should secure your lodgings for the next few nights.”
“Then I suppose I must,” Frances sighed, patting the wave at the front of her hair.
She had somewhere to stay tonight, but only because she had paid the daily fee before she’d left that morning.
All she had left were her homemade clothes, and she didn’t think they’d fetch anything.
She sipped the drink again, for courage this time, and watched Lorenz continue shuffling.
“Are you a gambling man?” she asked him.
“Oh, no!” He let out a throaty laugh that was almost endearing, and Frances allowed herself to relax a little.
“These are tarot cards. Have you ever seen them?” He spread the deck onto the table, face down.
They were roughly twice the size of the cards she’d seen her daddy play poker with, and they were worn and soft at the edges.
The pattern was the same on the back of each card, a repeating print of blue and white irises. “Would you like to choose one?”
“What’s the game?”
“It’s not really a game. Some people believe that these cards can tell your fortune.”
“Witchcraft,” Frances hissed, hearing her mother’s voice as she said the word. “Fortune-telling is not Christian. It’s unnatural.”
“Possibly.” Lorenz shrugged, running a gentle hand over the cards, mesmerized. “There were many strange things in the Bible, no? Miracles, water into wine. I grew up Roman Catholic myself, and tarocchi was always used in my home. My grandmother specialized in reading people’s fortunes.”
“She did?” Frances said, watching as his hands went back and forth, hovering over the cards.
She looked at one that was sticking out a little and almost felt drawn to it, despite its being identical to all the others.
Her mother was probably crossing herself right this second, even five states away.
Her fingers reached across the table of their own accord.
“You like this one?” Lorenz asked, pressing a finger on the card. Frances nodded before she could stop herself and took a gulp of brandy. He slid out the card and flipped it over. “Strength,” he said, placing it in front of her. “A good card for you, Frances.”
“Strength,” she repeated, allowing her fingertips to touch the artwork.
Surely she wouldn’t go to hell for looking at a pretty card?
Mama would say differently, but Mama wasn’t here.
And Frances was strong, always had been.
That was why she’d survived this long. She studied the figure on the card—a tall, fine-looking woman draped in a white gown and tending to a lion.
A floral crown sat atop her head, a curious figure eight floating above it. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Lorenz agreed. “This whole deck is beautiful. I was given it when I was in England, before I sailed to Manhattan.”
“England, how swell,” Frances breathed. Emboldened by the act of rebellion, and probably the almost empty glass of brandy, she leaned across the table.
“Mama would pitch a fit if she saw me doing this.” She giggled.
“God-fearing girls aren’t supposed to cavort with strange men and have their fortunes told. ”
“But, Frances, this tells me you are a God-fearing woman,” Lorenz said as he tapped the card.
She swallowed at the look he gave her as he said the last word.
He thought her a woman? “This tells me you are confident in God, that you have found strength and refuge in Him.” He nodded. “This card is just perfect.”
“Perfect,” Frances echoed. She leaned back more quickly than intended, her limbs heavier than usual as she squinted at Lorenz. “Excuse me. I feel tired all of a sudden.”
“Yes, the brandy works quickly.” Lorenz pushed his chair back, the wooden legs scraping along the floor. “May I accompany you to the drawing class?”
“Now?” Frances blinked. The room was swimming in and out of focus.
“Yes, it is but a block from here. I will walk you back to your lodgings when you are done.” He gathered the deck into a pile, leaving the Strength card face up on the top. “You will sleep well knowing you have some money in your pocket.”
“Yes.” Frances nodded and reached for her pocketbook before remembering it had been stolen.
She slipped an arm through Lorenz’s outstretched one as he helped her to her feet, and she linked with him as they left the tavern.
She really did need money. “Thank you, Lorenz. You are a fine gentleman. I hope you shall one day be rewarded.”
“Oh, do not worry,” he said as he guided her out onto the street. Night had not quite fallen, but the streets were already full of shadows, and Frances shivered. “You have no idea how rewarding this will be.”