The Bartered Virgin (13 page)

Winn sagged into the chair. Of course from where else! It made perfect sense that she wasn’t born upstairs as Tip had been but in one of the new, modern private hospitals for women. Certainly that was no crime. As for Mother, perhaps there was a reason she had to be taken to the hospital. She finally had the little girl she always wanted. And Winn had never disappointed her. Until now.

“You have a duty in this society, young lady, responsibilities.”

“What responsibility? To get married to further Mother’s social ambitions and elevate you in your firm? What about me? What about my happiness?”

She was yelling now. She had never yelled at anyone, not even Tip. But this was her life, hers and David’s. It was their future she was fighting for.

Her father continued his angry barrage. “Your happiness is what I say it is. And if you insist on defying us and playing the whore then I may have no other choice but to have you declared hysterical and sent to the asylum upstate.”

Winn gasped. He didn’t mean it. He was trying to scare her.

“And furthermore, you are going to your Aunt Gertrude in St. Louis for a while until this thing blows over. Perhaps once you prove yourself not to be unbalanced you may return home and we can decide what to do with you. Now go upstairs and pack your things.”

“But Papa, what if—”

“If there’s one thing I learned from New Orleans, it’s how the whores stay in business. We’ll find someone to take care of
that
problem, if there is one. Now get out of my sight!”

Winn raced up the stairs and ran into Tip on the landing. She grabbed his arm and frantically dragged him into her room.

“Oh, Tippy, he’s sending me away. He thinks I’m crazy.” She cried her grief into his shoulder while he held her.

“There, there, Winn. David will be here soon and he’ll explain everything to Father. It will be all right.”

“Oh n-no,” she sobbed. “Father says no marriage under any circumstances. Poor David. Poor Knightsbriar.”

“Shh. Hush, now, Winny. I’m going back to get David right now. You just wait here.”

“Y-you h-haven’t called me W-Winny in ages,” she hiccoughed through sobs that shook her to the very core. “Papa wants me to go and pack. He’s putting me on the train to Aunt Gert. Oh, Tip. She’s a horrid shrew. I can’t stay with her.”

Tip tilted her chin. “Then I suggest you start packing. England is a very long voyage.”

Winn smiled at him through her tears. She would miss her brother’s quiet resolve. “Y-yes. I will.”

She returned to her room and began feverishly stripping her closet. Hatboxes, muslin-wrapped gowns, even her rarely-used leather riding boots, all saw the light through her bedroom window. Her mind raced as she tried to think what she’d need for England. Warm cloaks for riding in the cool, English countryside. Sturdy shoes for the miles of walking into nearby towns. Then there was her household dowry. Trunks of linens and boxes of china and silver. She’d have to get them out of here as well. She should have thought about that before Tip left. She and David would need two carriages to ferry everything to the ship. She paused and snapped her fingers at the solution. Margaret! She’d send the maid to David’s hotel with a message. There was a sharp knock on the door. Winn sighed with relief. “Come in, Margaret.”

“It’s your father.”

Winn opened the door. He peered past her to peruse the open trunk and piles of clothes laid out on the bed. He nodded approvingly.

“At least you still know how to obey your father. I’ve sent Tip to the Grand Central Depot to buy your train ticket. According to the schedule, there’s a seven-thirty train leaving for Philadelphia this evening with a connection to St. Louis. I intend for you to be on it. I have sent a telegram to your Aunt Gertrude.”

“But—”

“No
buts.
And just in case you’re thinking of doing anything rash, the front door will be closed to you until you leave.”

Winn sat on the bed. She’d have to bide her time until Tip arrived with David. “Yes, Papa,” she answered automatically. “Would you send Margaret to help me pack?” She was as calm and polite as she could be under the circumstances.

“Margaret is busy with your mother. I’ll send her up later.” He turned abruptly and closed her door sharply. Then, to her dismay, she heard the lock click into place. No matter, she’d finish her packing and wait for Tip and David to return. She went to her bed and threw up the counterpane. She shoved her hand under the mattress. Empty! Her stomach dropped. Had her father found the diary after all? Or Margaret?

Then she remembered. She’d left the book in David’s hotel room. No matter, she would ask David to bring it back if her father needed convincing. For the moment, there was nothing to do except wait.

The clock in the upper hall chimed six. Teatime had come and gone. No one had even brought her a tray. Winn paced the floor, frantic with worry. Where in hell was Tip with David? The room seemed to close in on her. Finally, she heard her brother’s lively sprint up the stairs. He tapped on the door.

“Tip? Is David with you?”

She heard him clear his throat before he answered her. “I’m sorry, Winn. I had to go to the Depot and buy your ticket first thing. Then I went to the hotel, to David’s room, but there was no answer. The clerk told me…”

“Yes?” Her heart beat madly in her chest.

“The clerk told me he checked out.”

She couldn’t have heard him right. Panic rose inside her. Her throat tightened. “David checked out? You mean he checked out to come here.”

“No, Winn. He’s gone. No one knows where. He ordered a carriage to the dock and that’s the last anyone saw of him. Bastard! I couldn’t have imagined he’d do a thing like this. I feel partly responsible for introducing him to Father. I’m so sorry.”

Winn sagged against the closed door. Her head pounded. Her throat burned. “It—it’s all right, Tip. It’s not your fault,” she choked out before she slid to the floor.

She was aware Tip was speaking to her. “I’ll find him, Winn. I’ll bring back that blackguard and make him marry you.”

“No!” she yelled through the door. “No. It’s not worth it. Please, just leave me alone.”

How was it possible to be in so much agony and not feel physical pain? She sat on the floor for several minutes. The hall clock sounded on the half hour mark. In less than an hour she’d be on a train to St. Louis and Aunt Gertrude. She stared at the floor, her mind a complete blank. Her gaze shifted to her hands. She caught sight of the ring on her left hand. Another abandoned bride, she sniffed. The ring lay like a cold, hard weight on her finger. It still sparkled, more beautiful than ever. But its brilliance was like a dagger piercing her heart. Winn leaned her head against the cold wood of her door and cried.

David folded two one-way fares into his wallet. His next stop after leaving his luggage at the docks was the newspaper office. Then, finally, to see Winn’s family and talk to Zachariah about suing the paper. He hoped that by talking with the newspaper publisher first the mere threat of a lawsuit would encourage them to print a retraction and sack the nosy reporter. Deep down he knew Winn’s situation was beyond redemption. They—he and Winn—would be talked about for years. No matter. In a few days they would be far away where idle gossip and scandal couldn’t touch them.

No point in staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel now that the news had broken. He was the subject of blatant stares and rude gestures in the lobby from otherwise polite citizens. He would find someplace else to stay until the ship sailed. Damn that reporter for upsetting their lives. He angrily shoved the newspaper into his inside jacket pocket and hailed a hack.

“Driver, offices of the
Circular
. And make haste.”

The driver turned and eyed David. “Say what, mac?”

“The
Circular.
And, as you say here, pronto!”

Winn didn’t have any tears left. David had abandoned her, after all. She’d gotten what she wanted from the beginning. She was free and her inheritance was still intact. But there was a part of her that refused to believe David would give up on Knightsbriar. After all, he had given her the jewels. And he was counting on her dowry for the rest of the renovations and next year’s taxes. Perhaps he would find another New York heiress to give his title to, one who wouldn’t embarrass his ancestral name. But by now every family in town would have read the
Circular
. No doors would be open to him here.

And she was bound for St. Louis. She couldn’t think of the alternative, no matter what her father said. There had to be another way out. Her mind fought to think rationally. She had a little money squirreled away in one of her hatboxes. It would have to be enough to start a new life somewhere else. Somewhere Winnifred Percy wouldn’t be looked upon as a slut, a tramp, or worse.

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress and went to her bed. Winn grabbed her pillow and shook the ends until the linen pillowcase slid off. She stuffed a change of clothes into the bottom, and carefully wrapped up the Wolshingham jewels and tucked them in amongst her undergarments. If nothing else, she would send the jewels back to David the first chance she got. They were his only chance to save Knightsbriar now. She tied off the end of her makeshift sack with a hair ribbon, then went to her closet and dug out the clothes she’d borrowed from Tip. She scribbled a hasty note to him and left it on her pillow.

In minutes she was changed and ready to go. She emptied her reticule of coins and bills and stuffed them into her pockets. Lastly she went to the hatbox on her dressing table and emptied her stash of pin money. She tucked the tied end of the pillowcase into her belt.

The front door might be closed to her but her bedroom window was not. She pushed up the sash and climbed out on the ledge. The branches of the oak tree were more accessible from Tip’s room than from hers. She inched her bottom closer to the edge, but was still at least a foot short of reaching the closest branch. She might make it if she jumped. Winn looked down. The ground seemed to suddenly slide farther away from her. She wondered if she might try walking the ledge. She’d seen a woman walk a rope strung between two poles at Coney Island and the ledge looked wider than that. She looked at her feet. Her shoes might be a problem. The rope walker wore close-fitted ballet slippers.

Grabbing the inside ledge of the window, she stood up. She balanced herself before putting one foot in front of the other. The branch was easily within reach now. She took another step. Suddenly the load around her waist shifted. Arms flailing, Winn tried to throw herself toward the branch in hopes of catching it with her arms. She missed.

David was leaving the offices of the
Circular
after having a heated conversation with the publisher. The newspaper was now minus one writer but the subject of a printed retraction had still yet to be decided. Another young reporter nearly bowled David over trying to get up the steps. He burst through the front door, yelling.

“Mr. Wilson, Mr. Wilson. You’ll never guess. The Percy heiress just jumped to her death!”

David turned on his heels. Had he heard correctly? It couldn’t be. He dashed back into the office after the man, and found him wildly gesticulating while Wilson pounded madly at the typewriter keys.

David grabbed the reporter by the front shirt collar. “What did you say about Miss Percy?”

“Easy, mister. This is a five-dollar suit! I heard she committed suicide. Broken heart or something like that. Jumped out her bedroom window. Saw the ambulance taking her away.”

“Away? Where?” David questioned frantically.

“Roosevelt Hospital, West 59
^th
and Tenth. Big morgue there.”

But David didn’t hear the last. He ran out the door and down the steps two at a time. He flagged down a hansom cab so fast that the horse reared up in front of him, nearly knocking the driver out of his seat.

“Roosevelt Hospital, and don’t spare the horse.”

Tip waited anxiously outside the second floor room where his sister lay unconscious. He’d seen the crowd forming outside the hospital’s main door. Sensationalism. That’s what David called it when the press reported something about your private life that was none of the public’s damn business. Now he was seeing it in full throttle. He didn’t like it any more than David did.

He didn’t believe that Winn tried to end her life. Tip knew from the way she was dressed that she was trying to leave the house. But why? The answer came in the agonizing hours after she was rushed to the hospital, still breathing but unconscious. He sat alone in the hallway waiting for some word from the doctor. An orderly returned her clothes, which he discovered were his, and the linen sack that was still tied to her when the ambulance driver turned her over. What was inside the bundle that was so important to her to risk her life rather than leave it behind? He rummaged through her gunnysack and found only some money, a few undergarments and a bulky silk-wrapped package tied with a hair ribbon. The discovery only created more questions. And he had a feeling only David, wherever he was, had the answers.

Tip was about to untie the package when the sound of footsteps coming down the hall caused him to look up. He shoved it into his pocket. A doctor wearing a white gown and a strange white handkerchief over his face headed straight toward him. The doctor removed the handkerchief and spoke to Tip. “Mr. Percy?”

“I am Woodrow Percy. Miss Percy’s brother. My father, Mr. Percy, has been fetched from his offices on Gramercy Park. Where is Dr. Burney?” Dr. Burney had been the Percys’ physician for years and was generally accessible. Since he had attended President McKinley after the shooting, his infamy made it impossible to continue with his general practice. But he still attended the well-to-do on occasion, at considerable cost.

“I am Dr. William Mayo. My colleague, Dr. Burney, has returned to Buffalo to lecture. I am overseeing the care of your sister.”

“How is she?”

“Miss Percy has suffered a concussion and some minor fractures that I feel confident will heal with rest and care. But she has developed a fever and I am concerned about it. She is to remain here until her condition improves.”

Tip blanched. Fever. A fatal side effect of late summer. Diphtheria, typhoid, even a simple scratch could turn septic if not cared for properly.

“I’ve ruled out any contagious diseases,” the doctor continued. I’m more worried that an internal injury might be the cause. Regardless, your sister is not going anywhere for a few days. And I’d like her not to have visitors.”

“May I see her for just a moment?”

Dr. Mayo frowned. “All right. But try not to disturb her.” He let Tip into the room and retied his handkerchief. When Tip looked puzzled, he explained, “It’s something new that I hope will catch on. Helps prevent infection during surgeries.”

The doctor quickly withdrew. Tip went quietly to the bed where his sister lay. Her hair was the only indication that a person occupied the bed. Her skin was as white as the sheets that covered her. Tip bent down and took stock of her condition. Her forehead sported a large, nasty bruise. There was dried blood on her lower lip. Her left arm was wrapped in white bandages and secured by a sling. She moved her head slowly from side to side and mumbled. Tip lowered his head to her lips to try to make out what she was saying. At first he thought she said
leaves
. She seemed to settle down for a moment but then suddenly blurted out the word
Cleves
.

“Cleves?” he repeated. He shook his head. It made no sense to him. He looked her over again. This time he noted her engagement ring. She still wore it. The sparkling jewels stood out garishly against her pale fingers. Something chimed in his brain. He felt the inside pocket of his jacket for the package he’d put there for safekeeping. Tip removed the bundle and untied the ribbon. A necklace and earrings spilled on the bed. He noted the settings were identical to the ring. David must have given her these. A memory jarred his thoughts.

“Of course! The Cleves jewels.” He’d once heard David talk about them in college—how the only picture he’d ever seen of his mother was of her wearing them. If David had given them to Winn then he wasn’t going anywhere without her, or the jewels. He must still be in the city, he decided. But why not leave a forwarding address? A note or something.

He lifted the necklace and examined it in the dim light of Winn’s sickroom. “Oh, Davy! Where are you?”

“Right here, old chap.”

David knelt by the bed and brushed Winn’s hair off her face. He buried his face in the bedclothes beside her head and wept. “Why, my dearest? Why?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “David, we have to talk. It’s important.”

David kissed her good hand, his lips lingering on her tiny fingers. How cold they felt. She was nearer to death than he’d heard. It was all his fault.

He rose and followed Tip over to the far corner of the room.

Tip kept his voice quiet, but couldn’t disguise the anxiety. “Why did you leave the hotel?”

“I couldn’t stand those gossip-mongering society vultures and reporters hovering in doorways and skulking behind potted plants with their Kodaks poised to strike. I felt the best thing to do was to leave and get a room elsewhere until this thing died down.”

Tip gave him a tight-lipped smile and seemed satisfied with the answer. “That’s why I couldn’t find you.”

“I didn’t know where I was going to stay and didn’t dare leave a forwarding address for some vicious reporter to get by bribing the front desk.”

Tip put his arm around David’s shoulder. “I understand.” It was all that was needed for David to realize Tip didn’t hold him responsible. It was enough that he felt responsible on his own. Together they pulled up hard-backed chairs by Winn’s bedside and settled in to wait for the outcome of her injuries—good or bad.

“
Watch your footsteps…you will fall hard for this man…”
Madame Celina’s voice echoed unseen from the corner of the room. Winn was trapped in the oak tree. It had come alive. Its massive branches grabbed and fiercely shook her. The tree had a voice that belonged to her father.

“
Stupid girl. I’ll pack you off to the asylum.”
The tree was shaking her so hard that David’s jewels were falling off her neck and finger. Then she saw him, poised at the window. His strong arms stretched out, trying to grab her. If only she could reach him. She saw him climb out onto the ledge. Closer and closer, but not quite. He was going to jump. She tried to reach out to him. To catch him. She missed.

Tip and David looked at each other, startled out of their doze by the sound of the weak cry from the bed.

“Winn!” They cried in unison.

David fell to his knees by the bedside and grasped her right hand. “She opened her eyes, Tip. I saw her. Go fetch the doctor.”

A few hours later the room was dark except for a small electric lamp on Winn’s bedside table. The fever was going down slowly. She repeated an agonizing pattern of long sleeps, followed by short periods of consciousness that were usually caused by a frightening revival of her fall and the traumatizing events leading up to it. Every few minutes she would call for David, who never left her side.

It was early Wednesday, a full day and a half after her accident, before she came fully awake. David found her stubbornly refusing a spoonful of chicken soup that the equally stubborn Margaret held in front of her patient’s mouth.

“One more, please, Miss Winnifred. Think of that English gent what wants to marry you. He don’t want no skinny chick with her tits hangin’ down past her ribs ‘cause there’s no meat on her bones to keep them up.”

“Indeed not, Margaret. She should take a page out of your book.”

Margaret dropped the spoon noisily into the soup bowl and set it on the bed stand. From the way she parked both meaty fists on her ample hips, David knew he wasn’t the boss in this room.

“Devil take ye, lad. I should smash that gob for the worry you’ve caused her.”

“My offer still stands. You have a place in my home whenever you wish.”

She huffed and puffed as she pushed herself off the bed. She marched over to stand in front of him. She bent back her wrinkled neck and stared up at him, an Irish terrier to his English wolfhound. “Go fuck yourself, you English bastard.”

David chuckled down at her. “God, how I wish you’d been my nanny.”

“And fine calluses I’d have on me hands from blistering your ass if I were.” She held up one hand. “Five minutes. Then I’ll be back.”

David watched her march and mumble her way out the door and down the hallway.

“She’s thinking about the offer, you know,” said a weak voice from the center of the large bed.

David’s head snapped around. “How are you feeling today?”

“Bored. Nagged. Stupid,” Winn said quietly and plucked at the sheet with her good hand.

David drew up a chair, unwilling to sit beside her on the bed as Margaret had done. He needed to talk to her first, to find out how she felt about him. He realized he should have sent her a message instead of disappearing from the hotel without word. He explained his reasoning to her as he did Tip. Several times he saw her grimace and then wince because the expression worked on muscles that were still sore.

“I never meant to cause so much trouble. To cause you grief and make you cry was the last thing I ever wanted. I’d rather lose Knightsbriar than lose you.” He lowered his eyes and stared down at his hands. “I’ll work the rest of my life to find a way to make all this up to you,” he said at last.

At first he thought the silence between them was due to her being in some discomfort. Then his worst fears began to nag him. She didn’t love him anymore. She no longer wanted to marry him.

“If anyone has caused grief, it’s me,” she began. “Imagine, thinking you’d abandoned me because of some scandal. I feel silly.”

David moved off the chair and took Margaret’s place on the side of her bed. He touched her cheek lightly with his index finger. “I understand from Tip that your father has some role to play in all of this. He’s a subject I’ll deal with later.”

Winn couldn’t help the fear that clawed at her insides. At the mention of her father, a hardness crept into David’s voice. His eyes narrowed. She feared her father had threatened him as well.

“David, is everything all right?”

His expression softened as he turned his attention back to her. “Of course it is, darling. Or, it will be as soon as Tip returns from his errand.”

“You sent my brother on an errand? Pray, m’lord, how was this miracle accomplished? Margaret has been trying to get him to pick up his clothes for twenty years.”

“Easy. I bribed him. Ah, I believe I hear his cheerful voice out in the hall.”

It was indeed Tip’s voice. And there were other people with him. The door swung open to allow a stream of flower-laden visitors into the room. Tip, Kitty, Margaret and a tall, thin man wearing a neck cloth and a cassock.

“Why, Reverend Dooley, how kind of you to come and see me,” Winn cried, surprised to see the good pastor.

Reverend Dooley stooped down to kiss the unscathed side of her forehead. “Winnifred, dear child. You’ve given us all quite a start.”

“Surprise, Winn.” Kitty thrust a bouquet of purple and yellow chrysanthemums at her.

“Kitty, I’m so glad to see you. Your mother approves of you being here?”

“Hell—er, sorry Reverend. Heck no, she’s forbidden me to call on you. But I’m eighteen, too. I can visit a sick friend. Besides, I had to be here.”

Winn let the flowers fall into her lap. “Oh no! I hope no one in your family is ill.”

“No, silly. I’m your maid of honor. You’re getting married today.”

Winn swung her gaze to where David stood. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Only a huge smile as her eyes widened and the realization sank in. “I’m—we’re getting married? Today?”

David took her right hand and kissed it. “Right now.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife. My lord, you may kiss your lady bride. Gently!” Reverend Dooley cautioned.

The room was crowded with nursing matrons and staff. Even Dr. Mayo slipped in to observe before continuing on his rounds. The guests clapped. The wedding party hugged. Then the door swung open and Zachariah Percy burst into the room.

“Get out! Everyone. Out of my daughter’s room. Now. Out.”

Reverend Dooley glowered at Mr. Percy. Tip stood beside Winn on one side of the bed and David flanked her on the other. Kit slipped out with the nurses. Margaret sat in the chair in the corner. It was clear to David that the maid was internally measuring her future in either following her employer’s command, or staying with Winn to see the outcome. At last she rose.

“I’ll be out in the hall if ye need anything, Miss Winnifred.”

“I believe you’re wanted at home, Margaret,” Mr. Percy barked.

David waited for it. He saw Winn cross the fingers of her good hand. Tip’s bottom lip twitched.

Margaret headed for the door. Then she stopped in front of Zachariah Percy and faced him. “Go fuck yourself. I mean go fuck yourself, sir. I’m goin’ back with m’lord and m’lady. I’ve had enough of America and
freedom.”
With that she marched out with her head held high.

David felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. He gazed down into Winn’s battered face. Love and happiness shone through the fading bruises.

“Well, you seem pretty pleased with your windfall. Perhaps now you’ll get on the boat and go back where you came from,” Zachariah spit out.

“Oh, I assure you, I will. And I will be taking my new wife with me.”

“I’ll have this marriage annulled. It’s illegal.”

Reverend Dooley stepped in. “It certainly is not.” He pounded the leather-bound book in his hand. “They’re married all right. Not five minutes ago.”

“How do you figure that, Papa?” Winn at last felt well enough to join the fray.

“The banns haven’t been posted.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Percy.” David opened his jacket and withdrew a copy of the
Circular
. “It says right here that Winnifred Percy is the assumed fiancée of myself. Courtesy of Mr. Sam Jones, late of the
Circular.
This is a published intention to wed.”