As Ernest watched the silver-hulled Bainbridge ferry slowly turn against the tide and the breeze, he thought about Maisie and her quiet transformation. Gone were the dungarees, the suspenders, and the porkpie hats. Now she wore dresses and French makeup every day. But those weren’t the only changes he noticed. As a Christmas present, for instance, Madam Flora, in a moment of clarity (or madness), had given her little hummingbird private dance lessons with Anna Pavlova, a famous ballerina who was visiting the city. Maisie had turned her nose up at the gift, but shortly after the lesson Ernest had caught her practicing her pointe, more than once. She’d been attending elocution lessons with the other girls, lectures on politics and women’s suffrage, and had even studied the pros and cons of the latest temperance movements.
There was no doubt in Ernest’s mind that Madam Flora was preparing her daughter to one day become Madam Maisie. After all, the sons of doctors often followed their fathers into medicine, and the sons of accountants often one day added their signatures to their fathers’ ledgers. Why wouldn’t a daughter follow her wildly successful mother as a captain of late-night industry?
Ernest tried not to stare at the girl who could make his heart turn inside out merely by tying her hair up in a bow, just as much as whenever Fahn kissed him. Instead he appreciated the cloudless azure sky. It felt as though summer had come early and with the sun’s arrival, a promise of comfort, acceptance, and opportunity. He breathed a sigh of relief that anything seemed possible and every good thing seemed within his grasp.
“You know what Fahn is up to, don’t you?” Maisie asked.
Ernest sighed. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“She’s serious…” Maisie shook her head. “She’s with Madam Flora and Amber right now, trying to convince them to let her follow Jewel and become the next belle de Tenderloin. Why would she do such a stupid thing?”
Maisie kept talking, not waiting for a reply. “She has a great life. She gets to live here without really working here, if you know what I mean. She could grow up and manage any house—not just in the Garment District, but any house in the county. There’s always a position for an expert domestic, and even Miss Amber would give her a decent reference. She’s crazy to want to be turned out as just another working quiff.”
Ernest had never heard the word, but it was easy to partake of its meaning. He shook his head. “She thinks she’s selling herself, but she’s just giving herself away.”
Maisie nodded and then stopped abruptly. “You fancy her, don’t you?”
“It’s not that,” Ernest dodged. “Well, maybe a little. But it doesn’t matter, does it? She has other plans.”
Maisie looked disappointed, a tad jealous, then they heard shouting from the alley, where a group of teenage boys had gathered, heckling Maisie about showing off her legs. They hurled obscenities as she tucked the fabric of her long dress beneath her.
“Hey, pretty bird!” one of the boys shouted. “I thought you whores weren’t supposed to come out in the daytime.”
The other boys laughed and joined in. One boy even unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them to his ankles.
Maisie razzed the boys back, but Ernest could see her face flush as tears began to well up in the corners of her blue eyes. He took one last sip of his lemonade and then emptied the rest onto the heads of the young men below. They cursed and shouted even louder as they wiped their arms and faces with handkerchiefs.
“You’re being too nice,” Maisie said as she took aim and then dropped her entire glass, contents and all. She smiled as the glass shattered atop the head of the pantless boy with a satisfying popping sound, spraying lemonade and broken shards in all directions.
Maisie stood up and wiped her tears. “Let’s go inside.”
“To see about the announcement?”
“No,” Maisie said. “To see what else we can find to drop on their lousy heads.”
Ernest smiled. “Maybe Professor can help us with the piano.”
—
AFTER THE SERVANTS ate dinner that night, Miss Amber gathered the residents of the Tenderloin in the grand parlor. They were all there—the upstairs ladies as well as the working staff and Professor True—for the announcement everyone had been murmuring about.
Ernest sat on a plush purple chaise between Fahn and Maisie, trying not to tap his feet on the wooden floor while Miss Amber paced back and forth like a reluctant field marshal in a violet wig, about to address her ragtag, misfit army before they fixed bayonets and charged into battle.
“Where’s Madam?” Rose asked, walking in late as though she didn’t know.
There was a suppressed groan from the rest of the staff.
“What?” Rose asked, as she looked around, wide-eyed.
“Quiet!” Miss Amber stepped in before the staff began to argue. “Well, I’ll get right to it. The big news is…”
“I told you,” Rose exclaimed. “It’s the comet, isn’t it? I knew it…”
Miss Amber stared at Rose until she fell silent.
“No, dear.” Madam Flora appeared from atop the staircase, much to everyone’s surprise. From the look on her face, even Miss Amber was taken aback. Madam Flora descended slowly as she said, “I can assure you—it’s not the comet.”
Ernest smiled. He noticed that her hair was less than perfect and her makeup nearly absent, but her poise and natural magnetism made up for it. She knew how to make an entrance, Ernest thought, even when sickly.
After a brief, whispered exchange with Miss Amber, the grande dame smiled and then spoke as she gazed about the crowded parlor. “Thank you, my dears, for your patience these past few months, your loyalty as well as your discretion. As many of you have heard or read, the big news outside our doors is that Councilman Gill is the leading candidate for mayor, which means that we’ll soon have a friend and patron in a very high place. Our livelihoods are assured.”
Ernest drew a deep breath, exhaled, and waited.
“The bad news, though, is that…How shall we say this? I haven’t been myself for some time now—months in fact. Some of the older girls have recognized the change in my constitution for what it is, and you may as well know…” Her words trailed off, as her normally regal voice choked with emotion.
Miss Amber chimed in, “What Madam Flora is saying is that she has a serious condition, which isn’t getting any better, no matter what we’ve tried. Her ailment is a frightful one, caused by this daft business, and only made worse by how hard she’s worked on behalf of all of us. And so now it’s our turn to do what we can, before this thing becomes permanent, left untreated…”
Ernest felt Fahn take his hand as he listened. She was trying desperately not to look full of anticipation, a stark contrast to Maisie, who looked worried. Ernest held her hand too as they waited for Flora and Amber to get to the point. He couldn’t help hoping for good news—something unexpected and wonderful, though he couldn’t imagine what that would be. Certainly not what Fahn was hoping for.
Ernest glanced about at all the faces—happy, sad, and in between—they’d become his family. He had come to love his new life. It wasn’t without ugliness, but it felt so much more true and honest, richer and more satisfying than life under Mrs. Irvine and the custodial care of the state.
Madam Flora regained her composure and spoke, though her energy seemed to be waning. “The good news…is that there is a Prussian doctor…”
Miss Amber spoke up. “His name is Dr. Erhlich, and he practices at the Royal Institute for Experimental Therapy. He specializes in a new serum cure. But his clinic is located in Germany, so we will need to travel there and live abroad until Madam Flora is treated.”
Everyone looked stricken, especially since Germany had not been favored in the news as of late.
Everyone except Maisie, who lit up. She leaned over to Ernest and whispered, teasing, “I’m going to miss you, Ernest. I’ll send you a picture postcard. And if we don’t come back soon, you better come join us, okay? I’m not leaving you to Fahn’s wicked imagination.”
Ernest had barely begun to take in the thought of the Tenderloin without Maisie when Miss Amber cleared her throat to get his and Maisie’s attention.
“No one knows the future,” Miss Amber said. “Not even Professor True.”
Everyone laughed a little, and wore their bravery in their smiles.
“But I am hopeful,” Miss Amber said, “that we’ll be back by summer’s end and that Madam Flora will be hitting on all sixes again.” She drew a deep breath and exhaled, as though she were shouldering a terrible burden. “That being said, the treatment is expensive. So to fund this little escapade we’ve decided to throw one more grand party.”