Anna Godbersen: The Luxe

Outside, the bells of St. Patrick’s rang three o’clock. It was time. “Buckie,” Penelope said, standing, “you have to go now.”

Buck sighed. “But Penny, we haven’t even dished about the gowns yet….”

“I know, Buckie, but there’s all week,” she told him firmly, walking over to the chaise that he was sitting on. She extended her arm and he took it, albeit a little sadly. The only time Buck irritated her was when he acted like a sullen puppy.

Bernadine, the Hayeses’ head servant, stood at the front door with Buck’s hat in her hands. He thanked her and then she swept open the door to the glowing sight of Henry Schoonmaker, standing by himself on the steps. Penelope clenched her fists with delight that he was here right on time, for once. Henry was dressed in his usual fitted black coat and his face was as handsome and uncreased as ever, but there was something unusual in his features. Penelope was used to a serenely playful Henry, but right now he just looked a little bit…confused.

“Schoonmaker,” said Buck, extending his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Buck.” Henry shook the other man’s pudgy hand resignedly. Penelope tried to place his strange expression, but all she could think was that he looked like he had been caught.

“Just paying a visit here and there, wanted to drop this off with Miss Hayes,” Henry continued tightly as he reached into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of card stock sealed with wax.

Penelope’s heart instantly constricted in anger. Leaving a card ? What about their usual Sunday tryst? He could not breathe into her ear how unbelievably ravishing she looked with a card . It might be good news, she tried to tell herself, but then, Henry never took the time to write formal letters, and he was not in the least the shy sort who might put in a note what he could not say aloud.

“Won’t you come in, and tell me what it’s about?” Penelope said slowly, taking the odious envelope out of his hand. She fixed her burning, determined eyes on him.

“Go in,” Buck said. “I’m leaving, anyway.” He turned to kiss Penelope good-bye on either cheek. “Be good,” he told her as he kissed her right side. “But not too good,” he whispered into her left ear.

Henry put a leather-gloved hand over his mouth, coughed, and nodded good-bye to Buck. He followed Penelope into the grand entry hallway as the door closed; she had managed to get him inside. Unlike those of the old houses, the Hayeses’ entryway was bright and shiny, with its black-and-white-checked marble floors and mirrored ceilings. Sometimes Penelope felt like a mere speck amongst the architecture, but she did like that her reflection could be found almost everywhere.

“Bernadine, you can go back to your sewing,” Penelope told her servant.

The older woman nodded, her weighty chin creasing several times as she did. “Mrs. Hayes wanted me to tell you that Reverend Needlehouse has decided to join the family for dinner this evening, and she insists you be ready to receive him at five o’clock.”

Penelope rolled her eyes as Bernadine disappeared behind a door disguised by rich wall ornamentation. She could feel her temper rising. There were irritations everywhere: So Henry thought he could just slip away? So her mother wanted to curtail her afternoon? What was next? When the maid was gone, Penelope took a breath to calm herself. Then, without turning to face Henry, she said, “I get the feeling you were trying to leave me a note and skip away. You know Sunday is our day.”

After a moment he replied in a stiff tone, “You have not even read my card, so how could you begin to guess at its intention?”

Penelope did not ask herself what he was thinking. Instead, she turned her head and let him gaze at her striking profile and impossibly tiny waist. She could hear his soft breathing, and she waited. She heard him shift on his feet and pull at his watch chain.

“As long as I’m here,” he said at last, “I might as well have an iced tea or a Scotch or whatever you’re serving.”

“We have whatever you’d like, Mr. Schoonmaker.” She was still facing away from him, fully aware of what Henry thought of her figure. She wanted him to watch and wonder whether she were really angry or not. “But you see I’ve just sent my maid away, so I will have to prepare it myself.”

“All right, then, if you can do it in a hurry,” Henry replied. “I can’t stay long.”

Penelope shot him a crisp smile and then gave him one long, suggestive wink. She began walking down the shimmering, reflective hallways, her heels clicking against the marble, listening for Henry’s steps behind her.

The kitchen was dark but clean, with its rows of iron pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. There was a fire going in the corner, but no sign of any of the cooks or servants. Penelope looked at Henry’s card and then back at him. “I wonder what it says?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Henry pursed his lips. Penelope noted the sheen on his perfect, lightly bronzed face and the twinkle in his dark eyes as he took a step forward. “You like me, don’t you?” he asked, ignoring her question.

There was a touch of irony in his voice, but his tone was more serious than she had ever known it to be before. Penelope nodded. “I suppose I do.” She held her breath as she waited to see where this was going.

“Why?” Henry’s eyes were gazing steadily at hers. If she hadn’t known better, she would have mistaken his expression for earnestness. She wondered, for a brief moment, how close to a proposal they might be.

“Why?” she repeated, and then let out a loud, flat laugh.

“Because in romance as in all things I choose only the best for myself. I am the best of the girls of my set, Henry, and you are the best of the men. The richest, the brightest.” She took a step toward him. “The most fun. Because I want everyone to look at us and just dry up with envy that two people so superior in every respect have found each other. That’s why .”

Henry lifted an eyebrow and looked down at his polished shoes. “The richest, the brightest, the most fun…Sounds about right.” He nodded again at his shoes before looking up and giving Penelope one of those full, glowing smiles. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m surprised that a house of this size and status the best, as you say would not have a kitchen staffed at all daylight hours,” he said, watching her.

“In a house this new and grand, we have more than one kitchen, naturally. And I told the staff they wouldn’t be needing this one today.” Penelope brought his note to her face and drew it along under her nose as though smelling it might give her some indication of its contents. She pretended to consider a moment before tossing it into the fire, where she watched it flare up with a self-satisfied smile. Then she turned and surveyed the various surfaces that filled the large room. She chose a high, narrow table and arranged herself on it. Her back pressed against the wall; her legs dangled over the edge.

“I guess you’ll have to tell me what that card said yourself,” Penelope said flirtatiously. She moved her hands over the bodice of her dress to smooth it, discreetly revealing more skin than she would have shown to the general public, and then pulled a small cigarette from the folds of her skirt. She smiled at Henry, lit her cigarette, and exhaled. She recognized that in the moment, despite being one of the richest girls in all New York, she looked rather cheap. She had known Henry a little while now, and she was well aware that he liked these contradictions.

The right side of Henry’s mouth spread in a smile, and she knew she had his attention.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night, Mr. Schoonmaker?” she asked. “If I remember correctly, our conversation was cut short.”