No doubt Mr. Frick preferred the mystery of the portraits to the real-life complications of his wife and daughter. “Maybe that’s the reason for their allure.” She couldn’t believe she was being so forward. But he didn’t disagree. He stared out the window, and when he finally spoke, his voice wavered.
“As I said, you are astute. I seem to have failed with the women in my life; to them I’m a disagreeable old coot. I do love them, though.” He rose stiffly to his feet and pulled out a handkerchief. “I must go. Enough of this wasting the day. Tell Helen I was looking for her.”
He was gone before she could answer.
* * *
Lillian was overseeing the packing of Miss Helen’s trunk by Bertha when Miss Helen dashed into the room with a stack of books.
“You must find room for these, Bertha.”
Bertha stared at the pile of books, then back at the trunk, which was already bursting with underclothes and dresses. “There’s none.”
“Then go to the trunk room and bring another one in.”
Bertha left, but not before giving Lillian an eye roll behind Miss Helen’s back. Lillian took the books from Miss Helen’s arms and gently placed them on the bed. “More research for the library?”
“Of course. I can’t afford to lose an entire week.”
Mr. Frick had been feeling unwell and his doctor recommended sea air as a cure, so the family was headed to Eagle Rock, their estate on the Massachusetts shoreline. Lillian was to stay behind, and she looked forward to seven days of relative freedom. It would give her time to catch up on the bookkeeping and file invoices, among other duties. To do so without interruption gave her a strange thrill of excitement. Making the monthly books balance or firmly declining an invitation with a sweet note of regret was her forte, it turned out. For now.
Even better, she planned to put on her veiled hat and head to Times Square to see Mary Pickford in the motion picture Daddy-Long-Legs, in order to study her technique. It would be good preparation for California, and she deserved a break, after all the hard work of the past six weeks.
“How did it go last night?” Lillian asked without looking at Miss Helen.
“Wonderful. We heard Rachmaninoff, and after, Mr. Danforth walked me all the way home.”
Things were going beautifully, and Lillian’s earlier worries about the match were unfounded, thank goodness. “Imagine, soon enough you’ll be walking down the aisle.” She was laying it on a little thick, but there was no time to waste. “Did you invite Mr. Danforth to Eagle Rock?”
“He can’t come along, some phooey business nonsense. Probably better he not get to know Mother and Papsie too well right off, as there will be plenty of time for that when he moves in after the wedding.”
“Moves in. Here?” Lillian couldn’t think of a worse way to begin a marriage than living in the Frick house, under the intense scrutiny of Miss Helen’s father.
“Of course he’ll move in here. This is where all of my research is. And Papsie, of course. Anyway, I asked Mr. Danforth if he’d miss me, and he said he certainly would. Then he kissed my hand.” She paused. “Then I told him I had a surprise for him.”
“What’s that?”
Her cheeks burned with excitement. She went to her nightstand and picked up an envelope with Mr. Danforth’s name written on it. “I’ve put together a scavenger hunt for him to do while I’m gone.”
“A scavenger hunt? Where?”
“Here, of course, all around the house. There are twenty clues hidden about, and in here is the very first one. When he comes, you can give him the envelope and then let him wander about. It will get him acquainted with the items that are most dear to Papsie and me. If he’s going to join the family, we must make sure he’s fluent in the collection. That’s requisite number one.”
Lillian put a smile on her face, not letting on how little she wished to have to babysit Mr. Danforth this week. “How nice of you. Do you know when he’s going to visit?”
“No. But he promised he’d find the time. You’ll be here to receive him, of course. And you have Thanksgiving dinner to plan. I’ve left some notes with my ideas for the menu.” She pointed to a messy pile of papers. “Somewhere in there. You can straighten out my desk while you’re at it.”
So much for her free time. Lillian swallowed a sigh and continued packing.
* * *
The day after the family left, the house quieted down, as if it were going into hibernation without its owners around. There was no organ music, no food service, and the staff were allowed to take mornings or afternoons off, as long as the basic needs of the mansion were met. Lillian did manage to get out one afternoon, merrily shirking her duties and spending the hours in a dark picture palace. She adored everything about Daddy-Long-Legs—the costumes, the shining eyes of Mary Pickford, the elaborate sets. She could see herself right there in the middle of it all. Angelica, no longer a frozen creature of stone but a live woman, thinking and feeling and saying lines out loud, even if the audience wouldn’t be able to hear her voice. She could do this; she was certain of it.