Chapter 5

Elise balanced a plate and a cup of coffee in one hand and a lantern in the other. The hallway was dark with the coming of night, and she didn’t know the mission building well enough to traverse its corridors without adequate light.

“Hello?” she called, lifting the lantern higher to illuminate the hall.

A shadowy figure moved away from the wall. “Elise?”

“You’re still here?”

“No, I’ve left. What you’re hearing and seeing is only a figment of your imagination.”

She couldn’t keep from smiling. “Then I suppose the imaginary person won’t need the food and coffee I have.”

“Oh no,” he said. “Don’t you know that even figments need sustenance too?”

She drew nearer until the light fell upon him, turning his dark hair to a blue-black, the color of a starling in the sunlight. His face was pale, his eyes exhausted, yet his jaw was set with determination.

He’d discarded his hat, tie and coat, and had unclasped the top button of his shirt. Earlier in the day, she’d decided he was a business owner of some kind or perhaps rented properties here in Lower Manhattan. From his finely tailored garments, clean hands and fingernails, and self-assured way of conducting himself, she could see he wasn’t a common laborer or tradesman.

But now, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, his hair mussed, and his forehead lined with weariness, he seemed less lofty and more like an average man.

He took the coffee from her and tested the liquid with a sip before gulping several swallows.

“Sorry it’s not hot anymore,” she said.

“I’m not complaining.” He tipped the cup up and drained it.

She exchanged the empty mug for the plate of food. “The meal isn’t hot either.”

He dug into the potato dumplings and chicken in gravy she’d prepared for dinner. The cook Miss Pendleton had hired to come once a day to prepare a meal for the workers hadn’t shown up. Elise finally offered to make something out of the chicken delivered earlier that morning before any rioting started. Miss Pendleton eagerly agreed, admitting she’d never cooked a meal in her entire life.

Even if the coal-burning stove had been small, the workspace cumbersome, and the choice of ingredients sparse, Elise relished every moment of preparing the meal. She hadn’t had the opportunity to cook anything since Christmas Day, back when they were still living with Uncle Hermann, when she helped Mutti and Aunt Gertie make a special dinner out of the few items they’d managed to purchase.

Elise enjoyed cooking meals and experimenting with new recipes, applying all she’d learned from Vater. Her opportunities to practice her culinary skills in recent years had dwindled to almost nothing. She’d worked such long hours in the sweatshop that she had so little energy after returning to Uncle’s apartment each night. But even if she’d had the energy, they survived on the simplest of fare with little variety—fried fish, bread, and occasionally sauerkraut.

“This is really good,” Thornton said between bites.

“Everything is good when you’re hungry.”

“Perhaps.” His spoon scraped the plate as he scooped up the last remnants of gravy. “But this was especially tasty.”

His praise warmed her heart.

“Give my regards to the cook,” he said, handing the plate back to her.

“I will.” Elise placed the empty cup on the plate that was practically licked clean. “She thanks you and wants to know if you’d like a second helping.”

He studied her, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile of understanding. “Tell her I’d love to have more if she can spare it. And let her know it was one of the best meals I’ve eaten in a very long time.”

“In light of such a compliment, she may be willing to bring you another cup of lukewarm coffee.”

“More lukewarm coffee? I don’t deserve such a treat. But tell her I humbly accept.”

How was it this man could make her smile so easily when few people could elicit even the tiniest amount of joy from her? She supposed in some ways she convinced herself that she didn’t deserve joy, not when she’d failed to protect and provide for her family. They deserved so much more than a life of poverty, and she hadn’t been able to change their circumstances . . . except for the worse.

As her humor faded, his expression turned more serious. “How’s Miss Pendleton doing?”

“She’s worried about the reverend and rightly so.”

Thornton peered out a crack between the boards covering the window nearby. “I expected him back by now.”

After the long day of waiting and speculating about what was happening on the streets, some of the women had talked about leaving. They were worried about their children being home alone amidst the violence and wanted to be with them. Elise would have wanted to leave too were she in their situation. Reverend Bedell was sympathetic and agreed to accompany them for their protection.

“Do you think something happened to him?” Elise asked.

“I’ve been praying he’s safe.” Thornton rubbed a hand across his eyes. “The streets have been quiet for the past hour. Hopefully the worst is over.”

“Would you like me to stand guard for a little while so you can take a break?”

He hesitated. “I’ll be all right now that I’ve had that delicious meal.” The delay was enough that Elise wondered if he was anxious to return to his home too. She guessed a man like him probably had more important things to do than watch over the women who worked at the mission.

She went back upstairs and filled his plate with more chicken and dumplings. Then, with another tepid cup of coffee and the full plate, she returned to the front hallway. He ate the second helping more slowly, seeming to savor every bite. Finally he finished the meal along with his coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stand guard so you can rest for a bit?” she asked, taking the empty plate and cup from him again.

“No.” His eyes were softer, the worry lines gone from his forehead. “But I would appreciate the company. Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll die of boredom.”

“I may not be all that more exciting.”

“Trust me, you’re more exciting than I am.”

She wasn’t sure if Miss Pendleton would approve of her staying with Thornton unchaperoned. Nevertheless, she set the plate and cup on the floor next to the lantern and leaned against the wall across from him. She couldn’t refuse his request for company, not after the way he’d helped all day and without a single complaint.

Besides, there was something intriguing about him. She could banter easily with him, and for a while he entertained her with stories of his escapades during his childhood with his twin brother.

“Bradford sounds like he was quite the instigator,” she said after reining in her laugher in response to his story about how he and Bradford had climbed out of their bedroom windows and crawled across the roof of their house in order to switch rooms. Bradford had been the one to suggest the plot after their nursemaid locked them in their rooms and then bedded down in the hallway between their rooms to prevent them from switching places in the middle of the night as they’d done too many times in the past. But the nursemaid failed to take into account what lengths the brothers would go to in causing trouble.

“Bradford was the mastermind behind most of our adventures,” Thornton admitted with a nostalgic smile. “And I willingly went along with him, so I wasn’t without blame.”

“It sounds like you really love your brother.”

“We’re still friends,” Thornton said slowly as if choosing his words carefully. “But the downside to being a twin is that only one of us can come out on top.” In the flickering lantern light, emotions played across his face. Regret, frustration, sadness?

“Does it matter if there’s a ‘top’ or not? Can’t you be equals?”

Thornton released a sigh that made his shoulders sag. “Unfortunately, no. Not with a father like ours.”

Before she could find the words to respond, a rattle of the door handle made them both jump.

“Thornton.” A raspy voice spoke from outside. “It’s me, Guy. Reverend Bedell. Let me in.”

Thornton quickly unlocked the door and swung it open, helping the reverend inside before closing and locking the door again.

Elise assessed the reverend at the same time as Thornton, noting he appeared disheveled but unharmed. “You’re all right?” Thornton asked.

The reverend nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. And the women are home safely.”

Elise let out a breath, relieved.

“Thank God,” Thornton whispered.

“Yes, I thank God for another miracle. It was no easy feat delivering them to their apartments, considering some of their buildings were overrun with gangs, who were on the rooftops showering the police and any other militia with stones and bricks.”

“Has the fighting stopped?” Elise asked.

Before he could answer, Miss Pendleton came running down the hallway toward them. Her normally tight hair was loose, and her usually composed face was taut with anxiety.

At the sight of her, the reverend broke away from the door and started toward her with long strides that spoke of his own relief. When he reached Miss Pendleton, she gave a small cry and threw herself into his arms at the same moment he swept her into an embrace. He held her for a long moment before pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Finally the reverend released Miss Pendleton, but held her hand as they ambled toward where she and Thornton stood near the door. Miss Pendleton’s smile at the reverend could have lit an entire city block. From the tenderness with which he regarded her, Elise was reminded of the love her father had bestowed upon Mutti. He’d adored her. With each passing year of increasing poverty and debt, he blamed himself for the hardships his wife had to endure. Sometimes Elise couldn’t help but think that all his guilt and despair had been the cause of his failed heart.

She reached up and fingered the outline of Mutti’s wedding ring, which hung on a thin leather strip beneath her bodice. She traced the edges of the cross that formed the front of the silver band. Other than the cross, the ring was simple and without jewels, not the kind of heirloom she had to worry about anyone stealing. Even so, it was the most precious thing she owned. Mutti had given it to her just before she died.

Elise watched as Reverend Bedell kissed Miss Pendleton’s temple. It was refreshing to see a couple who cared so deeply about each other, a couple who also worked well together. It was as if God had handpicked them for each other—if that sort of thing was really possible. She certainly didn’t expect such an intimate relationship for herself. She was too busy to think about love and marriage.

“So when’s the wedding?” Thornton winked at the reverend.

His grin widened. “Not soon enough.”

“Guy,” Miss Pendleton whispered with a reprimanding tug on his arm. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see her face had turned a bright shade of pink.

Elise tried not to fidget at the nature of the jesting, but she was suddenly aware of Thornton’s arm near hers. When he smiled and winked down at her, her heart began to race. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling Mutti’s ring again. She’d never reacted this way to a man before. Of course, she hadn’t had any real suitors, and even though Reinhold had asked her to marry him, he didn’t count. He was her friend only, more like a brother than a beau.

She held herself absolutely motionless so Thornton wouldn’t sense her strange reaction. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice and instead queried the reverend for more information about the condition on the streets.

The reverend informed them of the news he’d gleaned during his time away. The hostilities had escalated. By midday close to a thousand armed men from rival gangs were fighting in the area of Five Points. The police had attempted to stop the aggression and had begun arresting gangsters. But as soon as the police left the area, the fighting resumed in greater force. The Dead Rabbits and Bowery Boys each set up barricades of pushcarts and large stones, all while firing weapons, hurling bricks, and clubbing each other.

Thieves, thugs, and other criminals who weren’t affiliated with the gangs used the opportunity to attack businesses, stealing whatever they could get their hands on and wreaking destruction in their wake. Several fires had been set to houses with the residents still inside.

When the police learned the fighting had grown in scale, they tried to return to the area but had been pushed back, many of them getting injured in the process. The police commissioner then called in the military, and around nine o’clock in the evening the New York State Militia, their bayonets affixed and ready for use, marched down White and Worth Streets. Two police regiments had accompanied the militia, going ahead and fighting back the gangsters and rioters.

“The show of force was enough to send the gangsters fleeing back to their hideouts,” the reverend said.

Thornton shook his head, his expression one of disbelief at all the reverend had shared. “Do you think they’re done now with their brawling or will it resume again?”

“Well, the police and national guardsmen are patrolling the streets and arresting anyone who looks suspicious.”

“I guess that means I should wait to leave?” Thornton asked.

“Yes, since you look so suspicious, you probably shouldn’t show yourself.” The words were out before Elise could stop them, and once they were, she wished she could take them back, especially as Miss Pendleton’s eyes narrowed at her in disapproval.

Thornton chuckled. “I think you’re right. After all, I do look like quite the rogue, don’t I?”

Another sardonic remark was on the tip of Elise’s tongue, but she glanced at Miss Pendleton and held it back. Instead she forced herself to respond respectfully, as a young woman ought to. “I was only jesting. The truth is that no one would mistake you for anything other than a gentleman.”

Thornton’s brows rose. His brown eyes dared her to tease him again, as though he was waiting expectantly for more.

Rather than give him what he wanted, she said, “I should be going.” She retrieved the empty plate and coffee cup and started down the hallway.

“Good-bye, Elise,” he called after her. “It was nice meeting you.”

She nodded at him in return. And as she shuffled down the hall, she suspected his good-bye would be the last time she’d hear from Thornton Quincy.