The door to the parlor opened and Mr. Danforth appeared. A cloud passed over his features as he took in her stony stare.
“Miss Lilly.” He took her gloved hand, briefly.
Lillian held out the note. “From Miss Helen, to you.”
He didn’t open it right away. “She’s wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”
“It’s been three days, so yes, she and Mr. Frick are worried that your intentions have changed.”
“Have they?” He looked up at her, hopeful.
“I can’t answer that.”
He tore open the note and read it, and then, as if in spite of himself, he broke into a smile. “You wrote this, didn’t you? Not her.”
There was no point in lying. “How can you tell?”
“Having spent those days with you at the mansion, I understand your cadence. In fact, you wrote the other notes as well, didn’t you, from the very beginning?”
Lillian looked out the window, hoping the butler would be returning soon. Being alone with Mr. Danforth felt more daring than when she’d stood naked in the middle of a studio. Like anything might happen. “I did.”
He burst out into laughter. “So early on, then, you were in fact writing to yourself, back and forth. A proxy for the supposed lovers.”
She couldn’t help smile. “Ridiculous, I admit. Although, when it comes to society matches, probably not uncommon.”
“Society matches.” He sighed. “That about sums it up. I provide Helen the respectability of marriage and an escape from the confines of her father’s will, while she gives me access to the Frick family fortune, an easy life ahead of me.”
“As long as you both are decent to each other, there’s no reason why that shouldn’t work. I’ve known poverty, and I’d trade it in for a life of luxury in a heartbeat.”
He gestured around the room. “So if I were wealthy, you’d be my wife?”
That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. “Is that your proposal? If so, I’d work on the one for Miss Helen, if you want her to say ‘yes.’？”
“Maybe I don’t.” He moved closer. “I think you know what I want.”
“I want Miss Helen to be happy.”
“Do you, really? Miss Lilly, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
If he only knew how often she’d heard that exact phrase. The words were overused, worthless.
“I’m sorry,” he said, picking up on the disappointment in her eyes. “I realize that’s trite. I’m inexperienced at wooing, and don’t know how to express myself very well.”
“Sir, I’m back. I forgot the list of groceries.”
The butler called out as he slammed the front door. The sound reverberated inside Lillian’s skull, reminding her why she’d come. “Write a note to her today.”
“What shall I say?”
“Tell her you’ll see her Thanksgiving Day.”
His face fell. “But what of us?”
“I came here today to insist that our friendship remain exactly that. I am not interested in your advances, and suggest that you turn your focus back on course. The Fricks are depending on you. I am not.”
“I don’t think you mean that.”
“I expect a note from you to Miss Helen to arrive by three o’clock.”
With that, she fled the parlor, practically tumbling down the brownstone steps to the safety of the street.
* * *
Mr. Danforth did as Lillian had charged, and the relieved look on Miss Helen’s face when his note arrived on a silver tray reinforced Lillian’s decision. She’d done the right thing. In it, he stated that he had to visit his aunts in New Jersey first, but would join the family for dessert on Thanksgiving Day.
Lillian had set things right and now her plan was back on target. Once Miss Helen and Mr. Danforth were engaged, she’d get her payment from Mr. Frick and be off to California, putting this whole sordid mess behind her. She’d almost muddled up everything by falling for Mr. Danforth, but today she was clear in her desires: a career, not a messy love affair.
The table in the Frick dining room had been expanded so it could accommodate all the Thanksgiving guests: Mr. and Mrs. Frick, Miss Helen, Childs Frick, and, at the last minute, Lillian. Childs Frick’s wife had been unable to attend, as one of the children was ill, and she didn’t want to travel far from their Long Island estate. Miss Helen had insisted Lillian take the empty place. Dessert would be served later in the Fragonard Room, after Mr. Danforth arrived, and Lillian figured she could make an excuse and avoid that particular course.