On May 21, 1905, Daniel, Liam, and I traveled to the Hudson Piers in a closed carriage. I carried with me one trunk of clothing, containing the most suitable items donated by Dodo Phillips. She was horrified that I planned to travel with only one trunk and so few items of clothing. I assured her that I would have no need of her more extravagant gowns, however lovely they were. Of course I couldn’t tell her I was off to Paris and made her think I was heading for a remote location in the country. She had also given Liam enough gowns, capes, caps, and blankets to keep him well-dressed until he progressed to wearing pants. I was extremely grateful to her, of course. She had tried hard to keep me amused and entertained, giving up some of her own social engagements to stay with me and teaching me how to play mah-jongg. But her bubbly chatting was hard to take when I was trying to come to terms with my own reduced circumstances, not knowing whether my house could be rebuilt or where we’d go when I returned from Paris. And God knew when that would be.
The one remarkable thing that had happened during the week was that Aggie’s relatives had been located and had come to claim her body. It turned out that her mother had never wanted to turn her out, but had been overruled by a stern and strict husband. It was pitiful to witness her grief now, Daniel had said. I hoped that her father would have his share of suffering eventually.
A cable had also come from Sid and Gus, more long-winded than mine had been, saying how excited they were and that I must send a telegram when I knew which boat train I was catching so that they could meet me at the station. I pictured seeing their familiar faces, beaming at me as the train pulled in, and I felt a bubble of hope for the first time in days.
“Here we are,” Daniel said as the carriage turned in at the Twenty-fourth Street pier. “Wait here while I find a porter to take your belongings on board.”
I looked out to see a sleek liner with two big red funnels and two tall masts. She wasn’t as big as the Majestic had been, on which I had traveled from Liverpool in steerage, but she looked elegant enough and large enough to brave the Atlantic waves. Daniel carried Liam and swept us quickly up the gangplank.
“Surely you don’t think that I’ll be in danger traveling to Europe?” I said.
“I don’t believe so,” Daniel answered, “but these men do still have connections with other ruffians in the south of Italy.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we are making too much of their skills and their reach. Maybe the bomb was a lucky accident for them and they only intended to give me a warning, not burn down our house. It’s hard to tell. They may just be a gang of local thugs after all. Still, I’m not prepared to run any risks with my wife and child. Don’t forget to send me a cable the moment you arrive.”
“Of course I will,” I said. I looked at his face with longing. How could I bear to be parted from him for so long?
His eyes met mine. “How can I bear to be parted from you both?” he said, echoing my thoughts. “But we’ll get through it, because we’re both brave and strong and we want what’s best for our son.”
I nodded, biting my lip and not trusting myself to speak. A steward came up to us and asked for my cabin number. Then he led us along narrow passageways to my cabin. He was very French-looking with slicked black hair and a jaunty black mustache.
“I ’ope madame will ’ave ’appy voyage wiz us,” he said.
I noticed that other passengers who passed us were also speaking French. I wished that I had brushed up on my French during that week with Dodo rather than learning mah-jongg and studying dress patterns for Dodo’s future soirees. When I had taken my lessons with the Hartley girls at the big house my French had been quite good. The governess insisted that young ladies of good family should be fluent in French and we had conversation practice every day. I seemed to have a natural facility for language and was better at it than Miss Henrietta and Miss Vanessa. A lot had happened since I sat in the schoolroom at the Hartleys’ mansion. I wondered how much French I would remember. I’d have to get in some practice during the crossing.
The steward let us in to my cabin. It was not the luxury I had experienced the last time I crossed the Atlantic from New York, but then that cabin had been first class. This one had a bunk bed on one wall, a built-in closet on the other with a small crib crammed in beside it. My trunk had been delivered and was taking up much of the remaining floor space.
“Zee bathrooms are to your right,” the steward said. “I leave you now and bid you bon voyage.”
Daniel shot me a worried glance. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, is it? Will you be all right?”