Somewhere in the World

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

February 1860

Mrs. Hale’s voice carried from the sitting room to the bedroom of the large hotel suite where her daughter pulled on long silk gloves the color of fresh cream. “Margaret, you must hurry or we will be late, and you know how that vexes your aunt!” Both were preparing for that night’s entertainment, dinner at a lavish New York restaurant culminating in a night at the opera.

Margaret’s eyes met her own in the vanity mirror. Her gaze was steady as she dispassionately critiqued her appearance. The gown of gold gauze nipped in her waist over the tightly tied corsets, and belled out to the floor at her feet; she thought it looked well enough. Her aunt had insisted on having several new gowns made as gifts for her, although Margaret protested that she had brought the gowns with which she had been gifted just that past December.

“Those gowns may be adequate for Charleston, but will not do for New York,” her aunt had insisted when Margaret had the temerity to protest. “You must have the very latest in fashion to be seen in society here.” Indeed, Margaret thought wryly, these new gowns were much too grand for Charleston, let alone Lovell. She intended to pack them away in silver paper and lavender when she returned home. One of these gowns alone might pay a mill worker’s wages for a year.

Their stay in New York City had been a piling on of riches to the point of excess, and Margaret was heartily sick of it. A month in the city seemed entirely too long, but as Maxwell and Henry’s business dragged on, so did her aunt’s persistent demand that they remain and enjoy all that this great metropolis had to offer.

The massive exterior of the Fifth Avenue Hotel might be plain, but its interior was something altogether different. Chandeliers suspended from ornate plastered ceilings refracted brilliant light from a myriad of crystal drops on the soft carpeting and furniture below. Chairs were set around tables; men read newspapers and women chatted in small groups. Potted palms were placed in clusters about the massive lobby, and massive arrangements of fresh flowers adorned marble tables about the room. The scent of lilies was strong, and the large public rooms seemed tropically warm compared to the frigid air outdoors. Their private rooms were likewise sumptuous, filled with beautiful objects and every convenience that one could conceive. Tea consisted of a sumptuous assortment of tarts, meringues, fresh fruits, and cold collations. Dinner involved numerous courses, each with lavish garnishes and rich sauces. Evening activities would stretch into the early hours of the next morning, leaving Margaret tired and irritable.

“There, Miss Margaret, look at how fine you look!” Dixon’s voice from the doorway pulled her back to the present. The servant had carefully arranged a small cluster of blood red roses in her hair this evening. The flowers had been sent earlier by Henry, who had not let a day of her stay go by without some small floral tribute, whether a bouquet of lilies of the valley or a single rose.

She sighed, averting her eyes from her reflection. She had no idea how to stem these tokens or their giver’s enthusiasm without injuring his feelings. Taking the cloak that Dixon held out, she thanked the servant.

This evening at the opera had been highly anticipated by her aunt and mother since their arrival in town, but Margaret had no intention of attending; she had different plans in mind. Mr. Lincoln was scheduled to speak at Cooper Union that night. After they dined, she intended to slip out from the restaurant and hear him speak. Nicholas had told her of this event before she had left Lovell, and she was decidedly curious to see this country lawyer who could engage the attentions of men as disparate in viewpoint as Nicholas and Mr. Thornton. Nicholas had suggested that she attend, requesting that she take notes on the speeches she heard that evening and wire them to him the following day.