Two Cigarettes
IN THE SERVANTS’ HALL OF 660 FIFTH, THE departure of the Duke and the visit of Teddy Van Der Leyden was the subject of much speculation. The butler, who was English, held that the Duke was a sporting gentleman who preferred duck shooting to being put on display in Mrs Cash’s drawing room, but the housekeeper was convinced that he had left in a huff because he wasn’t getting his hands on all of Miss Cora’s money – every detail of the row between the Duke and Mr Cash in Mr Cash’s study having been overheard by the footman. A full report of the row was even now being turned into a spiky little column in Town Topics – Colonel Mann the editor had let it be known that he was prepared to pay handsomely for anything to do with the Cash wedding. Indeed, Colonel Mann was probably better informed about the disagreement between Cora’s father and her future husband than Cora herself. Winthrop Cash had no desire to upset his daughter and the Duke did not talk about such things with anyone. He had told her he wanted to get away from ‘all the people gawking at him’ and she, having read that morning’s Town Topics which contained a list of all the paintings and fine furniture that the Duke had sold in the past year, could only agree. If she was insulted, she could only imagine how he felt.
The argument swirled on with all parties taking sides. Only Bertha said nothing. This was not unusual. As the only coloured upper servant, her position was a strange one; no one would ask her opinion directly but as Cora’s maid she was privy to all the information they craved. But Bertha was not silent from loyalty to Cora, she simply did not hear the hubbub around her. She was still replaying the scene of the day before yesterday at the New York Customs. Cora had wanted to meet the Duke’s party at the docks and had taken Bertha as companion. Mrs Cash had thought the whole expedition unseemly but she had been unable to deflect her daughter. It had been cold standing in the Customs Hall and Bertha wished that she had a fur stole and muff like her mistress. At last the ducal party could be seen at the far end (the Berengaria disembarked its passengers in order of precedence). Cora gave a cry of excitement and started towards the tall figure of the Duke. Bertha knew she should restrain her but she was frozen by the sight of another figure standing a little to the right of the party, carrying a valise. The height and the blond hair reminded her of Jim, he had that same catlike way of walking – and then the man drew closer and his face was lit by a shaft of light from a hole in the roof above. It was Jim. Somehow he was here and he was smiling at her. She wanted to run to him as Cora had done, but of course she had to stand modestly behind her mistress. All she could do was raise one gloved hand in greeting and see Jim wink in return. No one else saw this exchange as everyone was looking at Cora launching herself at the Duke. As she did so, there was a flash and the sharp, dry smell of magnesium in the damp air of the Customs Hall. The photographer for the Herald, who was sent to cover all boats arriving from Europe, had got the picture of his career: Miss Cora Cash, radiant in fur, arms outstretched, and the Duke of Wareham standing to attention, his arms raised as if to ward off a blow. It was a trick of the camera, of course; the Duke had raised his arms to embrace Cora by her enormously exaggerated shoulders, but the camera only saw the defensive arms and the look of surprise on the Duke’s face.
To Bertha’s relief, her face was masked by Cora’s furs in the published photograph. Only the raised gloved hand was visible in the corner.
After the commotion in the Customs Hall subsided, Cora leant on the Duke’s arm and shepherded him to her carriage, with the Double Duchess, Reggie and Sybil following in her wake. Bertha hung back to supervise the loading of the luggage on to the wagon. Cora, she knew, would not miss her for hours and there was so much she had to say to Jim. He found her and caught her by the wrist. But she moved away from him, conscious of the witnesses all around them.
‘Pleased to see me?’
Bertha nodded, she could not find the words to describe her feelings. Instead she said, ‘How did you get here?’
‘The Duke needed a valet and when I heard, I left Sir Odious right away and asked him for the job. I told him that I had always wanted to go to America. Course he didn’t know why.’ He looked at Bertha and she knew he wanted to kiss her, but she kept her distance. She was overwhelmed by his presence and what it meant. Jim felt her silence and carried on.
‘Turned out his old valet suffered from seasickness and didn’t want to go abroad, so he took me on right away. Oh Bertha, you should have seen your face when I came through that door. Your mouth was hanging open so wide.’ He smiled at her, gleeful. But Bertha could not smile yet. There was so much to understand.
‘I can’t really believe you’re here.’
‘Didn’t you get my letter?’
‘Why yes, I have it here.’ She patted the bodice of her dress. ‘And the pearl, that’s where I keep precious things. But you never said you were coming over.’ She was half angry with him for not warning her.
‘It was all decided at the last minute. I thought of writing to you but then I knew I was going to be seeing you, so I thought I would surprise you.’ Jim put his hand on hers, right over the spot where the pearl was sewn into her dress. ‘Did I do right then to come?’
Bertha heard the tremor in his voice and realised then that none of this had been easy for him. When she spoke she found herself talking in Cora’s voice.
‘Why, Jim, I couldn’t be happier.’
He looked at her for a moment and then laughed. This was safer territory.
‘The Duke could hardly believe it when she flew at him like that,’ he said.
‘Oh, he’ll have to get used to it. Miss Cora don’t hang back when she wants something.’
After they had gathered together the numerous trunks, hatboxes and valises and had them loaded on to the wagon, Bertha decided to call a hansom. Normally she would have taken a tram, but Jim and she would have to sit separately. This way she would be able to explain what was what before they got back to the house. She was pretty sure that Jim did not understand the way things worked over here.
She was right. As they left the Customs Hall together, Jim’s arm around her waist, there were shouts and catcalls from the porters on the docks. Jim looked puzzled and put out, he was about to respond when Bertha stopped him.
‘Don’t pay them any mind, Jim, they just don’t see many white folks walking around with people like me. They don’t know you’re not American.’
Jim subsided grumbling. This was new territory.
In the hansom, Jim held her hand in his and she found it hard to concentrate on the unpleasant realities they faced. But as the cab crossed Broadway, she pulled herself up and looked at Jim strictly.
‘I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you because I am but things are different here. No one is going to take kindly to us being together. They don’t think it’s right for white and coloured folk to keep company. That’s the way it is. And if the Madam gets to know, I’ll lose my place. She won’t stand for any goings-on in her house.’
Jim smiled at her stern manner. ‘I promise to behave, Miss Bertha.’
She wondered if he really understood. In England they would face dismissal without references if their relationship was discovered. Here in New York a white man could not have a respectable relationship with a coloured woman. It wasn’t illegal to marry as it was in South Carolina, but it never happened. And Bertha was determined to have a respectable relationship.
It had almost been a relief when Jim came to tell her he was leaving town. He said that the Duke had come back to the hotel in a foul temper and had thrown a brush at him when he had put out the wrong waistcoat. He had been surprised, he hadn’t thought the Duke was that kind of gentleman. Then Mr Greatorex had come in and the Duke had started playing the piano, ‘Angry music,’ said Jim. An hour later the Duke had sent for him and told him they were going on a hunting trip, returning the day before the wedding.
Now he was gone Bertha could collect her thoughts. It had been exhausting trying not to look at Jim, even worse showing no reaction when he touched her as he passed her on the stairs or in the corridors. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it up. It was lucky that the household was all over the place trying to keep the Madam happy. Bertha’s biggest worry was the maids who had come with the Duchess and Lady Sybil; they had been quite put out when Jim had stayed behind with her at the Customs Hall. On the voyage over they had waited to see which one of them he preferred, so they could not help but notice his interest in her. Now they were constantly running after her, demanding curling papers, pincushions, the best place to procure carmine, all the while trying to find out how exactly she had come to know Mr Harness, the Duke’s valet.
They were looking at her now. One of them was mending a petticoat that Bertha would have discarded long ago as beyond saving. She knew they were talking about her and she felt uncomfortable under their pale stares. She decided to leave them to their gossiping and get on with sorting out Miss Cora’s trousseau.
As she pushed open the door to Cora’s room, she was struck by a blast of cold air. Who had left the windows open? She walked through the sitting room to the bedroom to close the window when she noticed Cora sitting in the twilight, smoking a cigarette. She didn’t know what was more surprising, Cora smoking or that she was alone.
‘Sorry, Miss Cora, I didn’t know you were in here. Shall I close the window? It’s getting pretty cold now. What do you want to wear for dinner tonight? Shall I put out the lilac silk? You haven’t worn that one yet.’
But even the promise of a new dress did not rouse Cora. She inhaled on her cigarette (where had she got them from? wondered Bertha) and blew the smoke out of the window.
Bertha went to the closet to fetch the lilac dress, which smelt of lavender and cedarwood. Every Worth dress had its own pomander, which gave the dresses their own individual perfumes.
‘Oh, leave it, Bertha, I don’t think I will go down tonight. I have a headache.’
‘The Madam won’t like it.’
‘I know, but I can’t face them all tonight.’ She tossed her cigarette out of the window where it fell in a rainbow of tiny sparks. And then she began to speak, looking out of the window, anywhere but at Bertha.
‘I was so sure before…about Ivo. I’ve wanted him to be here so much but since he came to America…he isn’t the same. He used to touch me all the time, I mean he couldn’t stand next to me without putting his hand on my arm or my waist, and if we were ever alone he would kiss me – so much sometimes that I had to make him stop. But since he came he hasn’t touched me once, not properly, not unless it’s expected of him. I’ve tried to get him alone but he is always with somebody, and now he’s been gone for a whole week. Oh Bertha, do you think he’s coming back?’
Bertha looked at Cora’s frowning face and felt a little sorry for her. She was so used to getting her own way and yet she could not control the Duke. But it was not Bertha’s role to sympathise with her – she had her own reasons for wanting Cora married and back in England. ‘I do, Miss Cora. And as for the rest of it, you’ll be on your honeymoon soon and you can be alone all you want.’
‘Yes, but that’s what I’m scared of. Suppose we don’t like each other? Suppose everything that happened before was a mistake? Teddy came here this morning and offered to take me away and the awful thing is that for a moment I was tempted. Teddy loves me, I can see it in his face, but when I look at Ivo I don’t know what he feels.’
Bertha knew to say nothing.
‘At Lulworth it was all so easy, we understood each other. But it is all so different here. Everyone thinks he is marrying me for my money, even his mother. But I know he liked me first. I know he did.’
Cora’s voice was not as certain as her words. Bertha again remained silent. She wondered if Cora knew about the row over her marriage settlement.
‘Don’t worry, Miss Cora, every bride has doubts before the wedding. It’s only natural. Why don’t you let me bathe your head in eau de cologne and then you can get dressed and go down for dinner. You don’t want all those English ladies to be asking where you’ve got to.’
‘Oh Lord, Sybil came in while I was with Teddy this morning. I’d better go down and be cheerful, otherwise she might say something in front of Mother. Poor girl, I had to lend her two dinner dresses. I don’t understand why the Duchess doesn’t get her some nice things.’
The lamentable state of the English girl’s wardrobe seemed to cheer Cora. Bertha hustled her into the lilac dress. Once she was downstairs being admired and fussed over, her mistress, she knew, would start to feel much better. To distract her while she did her hair, Bertha told Cora about the English lady’s maids and their superior ways. Cora was laughing as Bertha described their attempts to conceal their amazement at the size and splendour of Cora’s trousseau. They had looked down their noses and wondered aloud if there were any dresses left in Paris.
‘Oh, they was actin’ like it was nothin’ but I saw them put out their hands to touch your furs. They ain’t seen anything so fine. I made out I didn’t notice but I could see ’em swallowin’ their envy. I hope you don’ mind me showing ’em all the clothes and stuff, Miss Cora, but it gave me no end of satisfaction.’
‘I don’t mind, Bertha. I’d like to do the same with the Duchess, except she would think it vulgar.’
The dinner gong rang and Cora went downstairs. Bertha sprayed cologne in Cora’s bedroom to mask the smell of the cigarette. Mrs Cash often came in to say goodnight and she would make an almighty row if she thought Cora had been smoking. Bertha was just about to go to her dinner in the servants’ quarters when Mrs Cash stopped her at the door of Cora’s room.
‘Bertha, a word.’ Mrs Cash was at her most stately.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Bertha curtsied, praying her legs wouldn’t wobble. She could only hope that all the smoke had gone.
‘You don’t need me to remind you how unusual it is for a girl of your type to be working as a lady’s maid. The money you send home must mean a great deal to your mother.’
Bertha looked at the floor. She had not heard from her mother since coming back from England.
‘You have worked hard and I know that Cora has great confidence in you. Indeed, she confides in you in a way that is perhaps not entirely fitting but because we have given you so much, I know you will always be discreet. That is why I chose you instead of a professional lady’s maid. I knew you would soon pick up your duties, but the habit of loyalty cannot be bought.’
Bertha curtsied again. What was the Madam up to?
‘Tell me, did Cora seem distressed today? Does she seem unsettled in any way?’
‘No, ma’am, just nervous about the wedding, as is only natural for a bride.’
‘Yes indeed, her whole life is about to change. By this time on Thursday she will be a duchess.’
And by this time on Thursday you will be the mother of a duchess, thought Bertha. She realised that Mrs Cash was as nervous about the wedding as her daughter.
‘It would be quite dreadful if anything were to happen to prevent that. So, Bertha, I am asking you to be especially vigilant. If any letters come for Cora, I want you to bring them straight to me so I may judge their suitability. I don’t want anyone or anything to upset her at this delicate time in her life. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good. And Bertha, I don’t need to tell you not to speak to Cora about this. I don’t want her to be…distracted.’
Bertha nodded.
When Mrs Cash had left, Bertha went into the bedroom and looked until she found the cigarettes. She lit one, and stood as Cora had done, blowing the smoke into the street below.
Next morning, a note was brought up to Cora’s bedroom by a footman. Bertha put it in her pocket and left it there.