Chapter 1: Three Years Later- August 1899
"Miss Jameson?" a maid asked as she knocked on the door. When she got no response, she repeated her question at a louder tone. When she still failed to receive an answer, she used her own key to unlock the door and entered the room to find a still-sleeping sixteen year-old girl.
"Miss Jameson," the woman repeated, "it's time to get up! You mustn't be late for your caller this afternoon!"
The girl groaned and rolled over onto her side.
The maid was really starting to become fed up with her charge's behavior, so she walked into the bathroom and filled up a bucket with cold water from the marble sink. She hated this method, but it was effective.
"Time to get up!" the maid said forcefully, but she knew the girl had a sixth sense when it came to being forcefully awakened, and her charge finally shot out of bed.
"No need for the bucket, Miss Hutchins!" Kate exclaimed, almost playfully, "I am perfectly capable of waking myself!"
Miss Hutchins put the bucket down. "Couldn't you have awoken yourself before eight o'clock in the morning?"
"No," she responded simply. "I was up late last night reading."
"Of course you were," the maid smiled softly, "You do love to read, don't you?"
"You've known that about me since I was small," the girl stated, "Why Miss Hutchins, are you getting sentimental?"
"Perhaps I am, in my old age," she joked. Miss Hutchins was only forty, so she could hardly be considered terribly old. "And I have good reason to. You have a fine young gentleman coming to visit you this afternoon, and as you know, when a young woman turns sixteen…"
"She is eligible for courting," Kate finished.
"Exactly. Oh, I can't wait to see you in a wedding dress! You'll make a lovely bride, Kate." Miss Hutchins was the only maid who called her Kate. Every other maid called her Miss Jameson, and while Kate wasn't sure why Miss Hutchins could be this informal with her without fear of retribution, she appreciated it.
"The thing is," Kate flopped onto her desk chair, "I don't want to get married just yet. Before I do, I want to have an adventure. Not anything too frightening, but just some fond memories before I become a prisoner in someone else's home."
"Now Kate, isn't that a rather dark way to think about marriage? You'll be in a lovely home, with a handsome husband, and children…"
"Miss Hutchins!" Kate exclaimed, blushing, "I'm not ready for children! I'm only sixteen."
"And you still have a few more years until you're expected to be married, so there is plenty of time for adventure."
"What if I don't want to get married?" Kate sulked.
"You will be," Miss Hutchins smiled, "You're simply too beautiful to be an old maid at eighteen. Some young man will just want to sweep you off your feet, and hopefully your father will approve of him, and…"
"So I don't have a choice in the matter," Kate stated.
"I'm afraid you don't have much of one, dear," Miss Hutchins sighed, "I wish, for your sake, that things could be different, but we simply have to deal with things as they are right now."
"If that's the case, then you're going to have to help me get dressed. Is the green one appropriate for today?"
"The green one is perfect for today," Miss Hutchins grinned as she pulled a light green day dress out of the closet, "It brings out your beautiful green eyes."
Kate descended the staircase in the light green dress and a fashionable sunbonnet with a dark green ribbon. As usual, her father had to leave early for work, so she had a quick breakfast of fruit and honeyed porridge alone. Her brown hair still fell down her back in loose waves, and while she loved the way it looked, a woman who wore her hair down was often perceived as unfashionable, or worse, a lady of the night, so Kate knew that she had to put it up at some point. After breakfast, she enlisted the help of another maid to do just that, and her hair was pinned in a tight bun with some artful strands framing her face (but not too many, of course).
By noontime, Kate had finished another small meal of fruit and a turkey sandwich (if her caller took her out for a meal, she wanted to be hungry enough for it, but if he didn't, she wanted to be prepared), and sat in the library reading a book of fairy tales. She knew that these stories were read to children to inspire obedience through fear, but they were also excellent stories for older readers. Whenever she was bored, Kate liked to think up happier versions of these tales, which she planned to tell her own children when the time came. She had never believed in scaring or harming children. To Kate, it was one of the cruelest things a person could do.
She often wrote her revisions down on paper while she was reading them, and while she was making another alteration to "The Little Mermaid" (she was about ready to give up on this one because unless she wanted to change the whole fairy tale, she couldn't mess with the ditzy heroine's disposition), the doorbell rang. It would go against protocol to have a maid answer it, so Kate shot off of the couch, and hurried to the door.
"Good afternoon, Mr. DeLancey," she greeted politely, trying to get rid of the knot in her stomach. Ever since the night three years prior, she had never liked Oscar DeLancey or his brother Morris much at all. She saw them as boorish pigs who were trying to sleaze their way into the upper ranks of society. Thankfully, she almost never had to see them except at large winter parties, because they were simply too busy with whatever they did at the World newspaper to court women or meet the right people.
"Good afternoon, Miss Jameson," Oscar smiled back. Kate could smell the smoke on his teeth, but other than that, she had to admit that he'd done a good job cleaning himself up. His suit was nicely pressed, his hat was fashionable, and his shoes were polished. He was also trying to hide his lower-class dialect, and he wasn't doing a terrible job of it. Even though she had no interest in him, Kate acknowledged the effort.
"Unfortunately, my father isn't home at the moment," she stated, "Is there anything else you need from us? Would you like some lunch?" She knew that she was being slightly impolite by rushing the conversation, but she wanted him out of her house, and out of her sight, as soon as possible.
"Actually, I've come to take you out on a tour of New York," he smiled softly, attempting to be a gentleman. However, Kate saw through the false politeness in a heartbeat, and knew that the smile wasn't his real one. She'd seen his real smile three years before, and knew that it was feral; Kate had only seen it when he was beating up Crutchy, the newsboy who she'd had to save from him.
"Really?" she replied, trying to widen her eyes to pretend she was interested. She knew she'd have to accept anyway, because if she didn't, it would be improper. "I'd love to." She never thought it would be so difficult to choke out three words, but it was. If lying was something that Kate would have to get used to as a society lady, she knew she'd hate it.
"Excellent!" Oscar grinned, and Kate noted that this was his first misstep in etiquette. Men were not supposed to raise their voices that loudly to a woman. They were supposed to be gentler. She also noticed that his smile was now more like his real one, which sent unpleasant shivers down her spine.
Oscar guided her to his carriage, and, not for the first time in the past five minutes, Kate wished her father was there or that he knew about this outing. He never bothered to check the calling cards, and he always had to leave for work quite early, so he never had time to leaf through the cards anyway. Kate was sure that if he knew what a cruel man Oscar DeLancey could be, he would have found a way to get her out of the horrible predicament that was being in a carriage with Oscar, but he couldn't help her now.
The first thing that surprised Kate was that there was no driver for the carriage, but that question was soon answered when Oscar grabbed the reins and smacked the horses (a bit too harshly in Kate's opinion) with the whip that had been left in the seat. Kate knew that when the man decided to drive, it was proper for the lady to be right by his side, and Oscar obligingly made room for her on the small bench. Disgusted, but willing to go through the motions, Kate took the offered space.
They sat in silence for a few minutes because Oscar didn't seem to know what to say and Kate refused to initiate a conversation with a man she loathed; she hoped the silence would pressure him to end the outing quickly. Unfortunately, this tactic didn't work, and Oscar continued to drive.
Kate was surprised again when Oscar made a sharp turn to the left. Normally, men who were trying to court New York's wealthiest young women would take them for a carriage ride in Central Park, but clearly Oscar had other ideas. Kate was tempted to remind him of the proper path to take to the Park, but she knew that it would be disrespectful, so she refrained from saying anything.
As the carriage rolled on, Kate saw that the quality of life was decreasing. Instead of rolling past mansions and wealthy apartments, Kate could smell the stench of the sewers and hear the cries of beggars. One old woman gripped the side of their carriage begging them for money. Instead of simply ignoring her or trying to shoo her away, Oscar took the whip and cracked it over the woman's arm. The woman cried out in pain, and Oscar smiled. This time, it was his true smile, and Kate started to feel very afraid.
"Where are we going?" Kate asked, because she was starting to feel incredibly unsafe, and damn it all, she wanted to know.
"Someplace nice," Oscar responded, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.
"I'm not sure anyplace around here could be nice," The words tumbled shakily out of Kate's mouth before she had the chance to truly think about what she was saying. When she saw the look on Oscar's face, she immediately wished that she hadn't said anything.
He snarled at her, and he gripped the horses' reins tightly with his left hand while grabbing the whip in his right. Thinking he was going to strike her, Kate instinctively jumped out of the carriage.
She tried to land on her feet, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she fell almost face first into the middle of the street, and when she tried to stand up, she felt a lot of pain in her right ankle. She was able to walk herself to the side of the street, and then, once she'd found a wall, was able to lean against it and walk. She knew that someplace around here, there was a place where she'd be safe from Oscar; she just had to remember where it was, but first, she had to evade him.
Once the carriage was out of sight, she slipped down a side street as quickly as she could. She got jeers from everyone on that road, regardless of gender. Younger thieves tried to snatch at her dress, and they managed to rip parts of her lower skirts off. Kate was almost grateful that they had; it made it easier for her to walk. A man attempted to wrestle her into a narrow alleyway, and she was able to smell beer on his breath for a moment, until another man jerked him away from her. She then tried to run as fast as possible away from that place, and she succeeded (her foot was in agony, but that was a small price to pay), but she felt incredibly embarrassed to be walking around in public looking like a tramp. Thankfully, none of the people that she had just met knew who she truly was. They never showed the faces of society people in the papers; only the names.
Kate remembered that Crutchy was a newsboy, so she figured that another newsboy would be able to tell her where to find the lodging house. Now the only trouble for her was finding one. She noticed a statue near where she was, and she recognized it. Horace Greeley was a newspaper tycoon many years ago, and she knew that the headquarters of the World newspaper were not far from the statue; she assumed she'd be able to quickly find a newsboy there who could help her.
She quickly spotted a boy younger than herself selling newspapers in front of the statue and walked over to him. She knew she must have made quite the sight to all of the passersby on Greeley Square, but at the moment, she knew that she was one step away from sanctuary, so she, for the first time in the last half hour, forgot to care.
"Excuse me," Kate tapped the curly-haired boy on the shoulder, "where might I find the lodging house?"
"That depends," the boy smirked, "who wants to know?"
Normally, Kate had an unlimited amount of patience (in order to sit through long dinners filled with mindless conversation, it was practically a required skill), but she had already had enough of this young boy's attitude.
"Someone who is trying to run from Oscar DeLancey," Kate hissed, and then threw in for good measure, "and someone who one of your own owes a large favor."
She was almost surprised at how quickly the boy's demeanor changed when she mentioned Oscar's name. It looked like she wasn't the only one in New York who was terrified of him.
"Awright, awright, no need to scare me, I'll take ya," he replied, "but you gotta let me finish selling dese last papes first."
"What's your name?" she asked, trying to be casual but polite.
"Snipeshooter," he grinned back, and leered at her now bare legs, "what's yours?"
"Now, Snipeshooter," Kate responded, "how would you feel if someone leered at your legs like that?"
Snipeshooter decided that it would be an excellent time to finish selling his papers, and showed Kate a corner of Greeley Square where she could hide while he finished. Thankfully, nothing eventful happened while the newsboy was selling, and when he came to pick her up, Kate was starting to feel relieved.
"All right, seriously, doll," Snipeshooter drawled as the two of them headed towards the lodging house, "what's your name and who owes ya? I'm gonna have ta know who ta talk to so that dey can help ya."
"My name is Kate," she responded, figuring only her first name would be enough to satiate his curiosity, "and I know a boy named Andrew, but you might know him as Crutchy."
"If youse know Crutchy," Snipeshooter said as he pulled a cigar out of his pocket, "and Ise bet dat ya do cause ya know his real name, den you picked a good place ta hide from Oscar."
"I'm glad," Kate smiled.
"Ya know, you seem too classy ta be a common broad. Who are youse, really?"
"That's not important right now," Kate replied, eyes fixed firmly on the road, "My foot is injured and I need a safe place to lay low for a bit. That's all you need to know."
"Okay," Snipeshooter shrugged in surrender, "I get it. Ya don't wanna talk ta people you don't trust."
"You didn't exactly give an outstanding first impression," she remarked.
"Awright, I get it. You're still mad about the legs thing."
"What woman wouldn't be?" she asked.
"A broad," was the only response she got from him.
"You seem too young to know much about these 'broads'. How old are you, again?"
"I'm twelve, thirteen in two days, and I learned about broads from some of the olda boys. Dey've taught me all about 'em," he said, almost proudly.
"Have they taught you how to treat a lady?" she pressed on.
"Well, we tip our hats to 'em, but that's about it. We don't get many people like youse around dese parts."
"So you don't know how to treat a woman with respect besides tipping your hat."
"Dey haven't taught me yet," he shrugged.
"If I'm here for a stretch of time, I can teach you," she offered.
"Well, we're here," Snipeshooter announced, appearing to disregard her offer. "Welcome to da Newsboy Lodging House. Da boys'll be in in a few minutes."
He walked in the door and greeted an old man who Kate learned was named Kloppman, and she quickly explained her predicament to him after Snipeshooter assured her that he was trustworthy. Kate almost didn't need the younger boy's input. Kloppman looked like the sort of elderly gentleman who would help anyone in need, and keep whatever secrets needed to be kept.
"Miss Kate," he said, "I assume that you would not like to stay in the boys' bunkroom, so I have a room for you in the attic. It's a bit small, especially for someone of your status, but it will keep you hidden for a couple of days."
"Right now, Mr. Kloppman," Kate replied, "I could care less about comforts. I simply want to be safe."
He nodded calmly, and gave her the key to the attic room. She asked where the boys' bunks were, for reference, and he pointed out the doorway to their large space on the second floor. Kate made sure to thank Kloppman for his kindness, and once he'd turned his back, she went up the stairs and turned the key to her room.
Kloppman was right; the room was small, but Kate thought that the wooden floors, walls, and roof were comforting in their own way. It certainly wasn't like anything she was used to. She tested the sinks in the bathroom and found that there was running water, but only a trickle, and she dared not touch it for fear of whatever strange germs were probably running through it. The ceiling in her room looked like it had been exposed to the elements one too many times, and she was concerned that it might collapse. She vowed that if she could manage to evade Oscar and get home soon, she would donate a large sum to the lodging house for renovations.
The events of the day had taken a toll on Kate, and she watched the sun begin to set out of her narrow window. Since she didn't have any extra clothes, she simply laid down on the mattress and quickly realized something: her bed didn't have any sheets. Kate knew where she'd need to get them from, and so, shocking herself with her own boldness, she slipped down the stairs to the boys' bunks to see if there was an open bunk with sheets that she could "borrow".