The Vaudeville Star Page 4

  “She’s my cousin from Mississippi. She’s going to audition tomorrow for the show. I thought I told you about her,” Bessie said the white lie easily.

  “Hmph! No, you didn’t,” Mrs. Hodges said.

  Ruby tried to keep her eyes downcast and appear as submissive as possible. She needed the place to stay, and she didn’t want to seem bothersome.

  “Well, I suppose she can have the empty room upstairs at the end of the hall. She seems clean enough.”

  “I am,” Ruby said softly.

  The three mounted the stairs as Mrs. Hodges began her welcome speech. “Breakfast is at six thirty. There’ll be fried eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Some houses do up a lunch, but I don’t. You’re on your own for lunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Dinner is served at five. I know some of you folks are in the theater, so I’ll place a bit of food away, but there’s no guarantee. Dinner is usually stew with cornbread. Something hardy that will stick to the stomach.”

  Ruby nodded as they walked along the hallway.

  “Each room contains a bed, dresser, table, and chair. There is a basin and pitcher for water, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

  She opened the door to the room, and they stepped inside. The room was at the end of the hall and was larger than the other rooms as it curved outward with a large window seat that overlooked the street. It was a charming little room.

  “I run a respectable house here,” Mrs. Hodges continued. “We have a full house and that includes men and women under this roof. If you decide to conduct yourself as anything less than respectable, you will be asked to leave. If you have a gentleman caller, you have him wait downstairs in the parlor and meet him there.”

  “I understand, but I don’t know anyone in New York besides my cousins,” Ruby said, smiling.

  Mrs. Hodges looked Ruby up and down and sighed. “My room is downstairs at the back of the house. My husband, Mr. Hodges, is quite ill, so you won’t see him often except at dinner. You can settle the first week’s lodging with me later this evening.”

  Ruby moved to the window seat and brushed back the curtains. She smiled as she unpinned her hat and looked out onto the street. The boardinghouse was on a smaller side street, and opposite her room was a grocery and candy shop. There was a young man looking up at the building who looked vaguely familiar, but she knew that wasn’t possible as she had met no one.

  “It’s a good room, Ruby. The best one on this floor.” Bessie joined her at the window.

  “I am so grateful to you, Bessie. I really am. You have been so kind to me,” she told her new friend.

  “Stop all this now,” Bessie implored her. “I’m happy to help. And tomorrow you’ll meet everyone, and we’ll see what Vern says.”

  Ruby nodded, and when Bessie left, she placed her suitcase on the bed and began unpacking. There was a cool breeze in the air, and she suddenly smiled. She had set out to chase her dreams, and now she was here in New York with it all just within her grasp.

  Ford settled into the downstairs parlor, waiting for his family to rise for the morning. He had spent time in Boston visiting Pietro and Lily after he had given the news to Ruby about her father’s death. He and Pietro remained on good terms, and Ford had joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency after meeting him.

  The plantation he would inherit from his father was well run, and he had felt idle. After the trip to Europe, he had decided to join the agency and had seen much and enjoyed the action.

  “There you are, my darling. How was Boston?” Faylene Rutledge entered the parlor with her arms outstretched. “When did you arrive home? I didn’t hear a carriage.”

  He was enveloped in her arms, and the strong scent of lilac, which she always wore, surrounded them.

  “Last night, Momma.”

  She called out to their housemaid to bring coffee just as Marshall entered.

  “Hello, Father,” he said as the two shook hands.

  “Ford, my boy.”

  Marshall immediately lit a cigar and looked his son over. “Well, apparently that agency is doing well for you. You look fit as a fiddle.”

  Ford smiled. “I enjoy the work. Though it’s not as exciting as most people think, not by a long shot.”

  Faylene balanced herself on the edge of the chair while her husband paced the room. From outside the parlor, they heard someone bounding down the stairs, and soon enough Jessbelle was inside the room in a blur of pink and white.

  “Ford!” She threw herself at him amid tears, and a handkerchief, which seemed to appear out of nowhere, was suddenly in her hand. “I did miss you!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jessbelle. Calm yourself! Ford was only in Boston, not fighting in the Spanish-American War!” her mother admonished her.

  Ford kissed his sister’s hand as Marshall smiled.

  “Don’t be so harsh, Faylene. Your daughter adores her brother. That’s as it should be.”

  “I did miss you, Ford,” Jess said with her eyes wide.

  “And I missed you, brat.” He smiled.

  His decision to join the agency had not been a rash one, and he had been assigned several small cases but also several important ones. Much like Pietro, he made a name for himself as a trustworthy and conscientious detective. He followed the rules and always performed exactly as expected.

  One particularly high-profile case had taken place in New York, in which he and another detective were hired to protect a priceless diamond tiara owned by the Astor family. A well-known jewel thief had his sights set on the “Astor Tiara,” and Ford had helped bring the thief to justice while also keeping the Astor family happy.

  He became a known name in the influential upper classes, and his services were requested again and again. He had relocated to New York and worked with a variety of different people. The agency now had two thousand active agents with offices throughout the United States, and Ford had become an integral part of the machine.

  When he returned home to visit with his family, he left behind a team of fellow detectives who viewed him as a brother and member of their esteemed group.

  Ford looked around the plantation home and saw that nothing had changed. Antebellum Plantation was run by servants and paid workers who lived at the back of the property in small cabins. Many of them had been with the plantation their entire lives. Several families left when the Emancipation Proclamation was declared, but just as many had stayed.

  The Rutledge family always treated their people fairly, so that as the South changed, many families remained with them. They were given fair wages for their work and treated decently. As such, their production was high and their workers not unhappy. Ozella, their cook, had been at the plantation Ford’s entire life and his mother’s ladies’ maid at least fifteen years.

  Ford looked across the parlor at his family and swelled with pride. He had not gone to New York to find himself and get away from his life here. He had wanted to see something of the world, and the agency had given him that opportunity.

  He watched as his mother moved a stray curl back behind Jess’s ear while his father was talking to them about their neighbors.

  “What did you say, Father?” Ford asked.

  Marshall puffed on his cigar while Faylene looked at it with distaste.

  “I said that with Earl now dead, Lucille and Pernetta are running their plantation all alone.”

  Ford glanced up at his father. “All alone? Surely they have an overseer.”

  Marshall shrugged. “You know how that woman is. Stubborn as a mule. I can’t help but think you were lucky not marrying into that family. Even if it would have doubled the size of our plantation.”

  “How was Ruby when you saw her, Ford? Did she look well? When is she coming home?” Jessbelle asked one question after the other.

  “She looked fine enough.” Ford answered, trying not to focus on the rush of desire as he recalled Ruby’s naked body entwined with his own.

  “Did she say when she wa
s coming home? Surely she should be home already,” Jessbelle persisted.

  “We didn’t talk much about her plans, Jess.” He saw no reason to elaborate on Ruby’s crazy scheme to travel to New York and go onstage.

  “Of course they didn’t,” Faylene interrupted. “Her Daddy died. She was distraught. Am I right, Ford?”

  Ford could still see Ruby lying naked in the bed and in his arms. He coughed suddenly. “Yes Momma. That’s right.”

  Faylene turned to her daughter. “Stop pestering your brother with all your questions, Jess.”

  “No, Momma, it’s fine. I just don’t have that much to add.”

  Ford remembered Ruby’s words and wondered where she was. He must send a telegram. He needed to know she was safe. He should have gone himself, but she would have spotted him. At least she was not alone.

  “Do you think Lucille and Pernetta will be able to run the plantation alone, Marshall?” Faylene asked.

  “I truly don’t know. That Lucille is determined. I’ll say that much for her. I don’t see why not.”

  “I suppose I must send another card to convey our sympathies. I believe I did when Earl died, but she never responded,” Faylene said to no one in particular. “I’ll invite them for tea or lemonade.”

  “Of course she didn’t respond, Momma! Her youngest daughter was caught in the watering hole with your son whilst her eldest daughter was supposed to be marrying him. They hate us!”

  “Hush your mouth, Jess,” Faylene said, shaking her head. “My goodness, Marshall! Where does this child get her sassiness from? I honestly couldn’t say.”

  Lucille and Pernetta Sutton entered the parlor in a swish of silk gowns. Faylene welcomed them and asked the ladies to sit down. A maid entered with a tray of lemonade and freshly baked miniature cakes and placed it in front of them.

  “Lucille, I wanted to tell you in person how sorry I was for your loss. Earl was such a fine man,” she said softly. “We didn’t get to speak at the funeral.”

  “Yes, he was. And of course we received your note and flowers, but I have been rushed off my feet. Running the plantation and looking after Pernetta,” Lucille responded.

  “Of course you were. I understand,” Faylene said, leaning over to pour several glasses of lemonade.

  She handed one glass to Lucille, who took it in her gloved hand, and then handed the next to Pernetta, who took a sip and then immediately excused herself to get some air.

  “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to have Ruby back home. Ford didn’t say much about his trip to Connecticut, but I’m sure she’ll be home shortly.” Faylene smiled.

  “Honestly, Faylene, I’m not so sure about that,” Lucille said, eyeing the room around her. “I love my family—God knows I do. But that girl has been a burr under my saddle since the day she was born. That is the truth. And I can’t help but wish she would stay in Connecticut. I really do.”

  “Hello, Ford.”

  Ford turned to see Pernetta standing behind him on the veranda. Her wavy brown hair was pinned at her neck, and there was a flush on her cheeks. She wore a yellow dress that did not enhance her coloring nor her flat bosom.

  “Hello, Pernetta.” He nodded to her.

  She moved to stand beside him, and together they looked out over the vast cotton fields that belonged to the Rutledge family. She removed a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her face.

  “You broke the news to Ruby about Daddy. I’m sorry you had to go. A telegram or letter would have sufficed,” Pernetta said.

  “A telegram would have sufficed to tell a young girl her father is dead?” Ford asked quietly.

  She dabbed at her face and then at her eyes, suddenly filled with tears. “She’s a harlot, Ford! I’ll never forgive her for ruining our engagement party and throwing herself at you like that! She’s nothing but a common tramp!”

  “How can you be so ungracious? She was a child! She was fifteen years old. She thought she was in love.”

  “In love! She’s like a bitch in heat. Momma and I pray every night that she stays in Connecticut and gets a job as a governess or teacher. We don’t want her back, Ford. She isn’t decent, and she shouldn’t be around decent folk.”

  Ford gave her a cold look. “I pity both you and your mother, Pernetta. Ruby is filled with nothing but kindness and generosity. And it seems she was right. The only person who truly loved her is gone.”

  “Daddy didn’t see her for her true self. He was blinded by her beauty, like all men are.”

  “Her beauty isn’t just skin deep. She is a good person while you seem filled with hate. I think I should thank Ruby for that evening at the watering hole. She saved me from making a huge mistake. If you’ll excuse me.” Ford inclined his head slightly, leaving Pernetta to stare after him.

  4

  Ruby dressed carefully in preparation for her meeting with Vaudeville Vern. She had slept well, and unlike the last several weeks, her dreams did not revolve around Ford. She had not seen him since their night together in Connecticut, and since she had left school, he had no way to reach her.

  She had decided after much thought that she would not tell her mother or sister of her plans. She was of age, and there was nothing they could do to prevent her from following her dreams. She was actually quite sure that given their need for appearances, they would probably try and find some way to stop her. So rather than risk their displeasure, she did not contact them.

  She had not taken any fancy gowns with her to school, so when she traveled to New York, the dresses she brought with her were modest. She pulled one out and then another and laid them upon the bed.

  She realized as she started out on this new journey in her life that she had grown up rather pampered and catered to. On the plantation, she had servants to attend to her needs—a maid, a butler, a cook. Now she was alone. But the thought of being alone in this large city was not frightening as it had once been. She had already made friends and found a place to live.

  A knock fell upon her door, and no sooner had she said enter than Bessie did just that.

  “Morning, Ruby,” she said warmly. “How did you sleep?”

  “Well. Very well,” she greeted Bessie though her thoughts were consumed with looking at the dresses and making a decision.

  “The pink day dress,” Bessie said simply.

  “You think?” Ruby turned to her.

  “Absolutely. The color suits you and makes you look feminine and young. That’s all that matters onstage.” Bessie laughed. “And sometimes a little talent.”

  Ruby moved to change into the day dress as Bessie averted her eyes.

  “Is there anything I should know about Vernon? I mean, what to say or do to help me get into his good graces?”

  “Graces? Vern? I doubt it. The man is middle-aged, never been married, and devoted to the theater. The only thing that Vern cares about is being the top theater in New York. I would say relax and be yourself.”

  “Okay.” Ruby said, smoothing down the front of her dress.

  “You look lovely, Ruby. Really lovely,” she said as Ruby pulled on her gloves and pinned on her hat.

  “You may have to wait until after rehearsal. I’m not sure what is planned today. Sometimes we rehearse, sometimes not. And it all depends on Madame Diva!” Bessie said as they joined Archie downstairs.

  “Madame Diva?” Ruby asked.

  “You’ll see.” Bessie nodded with a smile on her face.

  The boardinghouse was a ten-minute walk from the theater, and Bessie chatted about Kansas while Archie remained silent, walking behind them. They entered through the front foyer and walked into a darkened theater. Ruby saw several people standing around onstage while a man was standing in front of the first row, gesturing.

  “Have a seat here, Ruby. When the time is right, I’ll call you,” Bessie whispered to her.

  She nodded and watched as Archie and Bessie walked down the long aisle and mounted the side stairs to the stage.

  “Goddamn it!”
Vern yelled to no one in particular.

  Ruby looked at the stage, but none of the people seemed at all disturbed by his outburst.

  “How many times have I told her? She gets top billing, the largest dressing room, everything she asks for, and she can’t make it on time to rehearsals!” he bellowed.

  Vern turned to the small man seated next to him. “Max! Write this down. Fire Zeta.” He said the last two words with heavy emphasis.

  At that exact moment, a woman who could only be Zeta Riggi, the Italian diva, threw open the doors to the theater and came strolling down the aisle wearing a bright blue gown and a fur cape. Her hat was outrageously large with several ostrich feathers sticking out of it.

  “I am here! I am here!” she said to everyone as she approached the stage. The other performers looked on passively at her approach.

  “You’re here? You’re late, Zeta!” Vern yelled back.

  “So? Am I here? Or am I here? I’m here!” As she spoke, the feathers in her hat danced along with her movements.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that money is time, and you waste it!” Vern told his prima donna.

  “Oh, I waste it? I waste it? Or do I make you money so you can go visit those brothels and your puttanas down on Houston Street?” she said spitefully, pronouncing the name as howston.

  Vernon looked at her and then muttered, “Bitch!”

  “Eh? What? What did you say?” Zeta asked. “What did he call me?” she said, looking around at her fellow troupers.

  Vernon said nothing, and then Zeta threw everyone a look. “Oh, okay! You call me names—me! The star of this ridiculous show? Then you know what, Vern—I quit! Do you hear me? I quit! Yes! We’ll see how you do without Zeta Riggi, the greatest soprano ever to have lived! Yes, I quit!” She made her way back down the aisle, passing an astounded Ruby as she went.

  Vernon looked like he wanted to slap her, and Max was already bounding down the aisle, calling after her.

  “Signorina Zeta! Wait!”