Chapter 28

"Ol... ol... How do you spell it?"

The sharp young woman sat behind a brass window. Archer pushed May's telegram toward her. They were in the Western Union office.

"Olenska. O-len-ska," Archer repeated.

He pulled the message back. Then he printed the foreign name above May's loose writing.

"That is not a common name in a New York telegram office. It is very strange in this part of town."

Archer knew the voice behind him. He turned and saw Lawrence Lefferts. The man pulled at the neat hair above his lip. He acted as if he did not see the message.

"Hello, Newland. I thought I would catch you here," Lefferts said. "I just heard about old Mrs. Mingott's stroke. I was going to her house."

"Then I saw you enter this street," he continued. "So I hurried after you. You just came from there, I suppose?"

Archer nodded. He pushed the telegram under the metal screen.

"Is she very bad?" Lefferts asked. "You must be sending news to the family. It must be bad if you call Countess Olenska."

Archer's lips became hard. For one wild moment, he wanted to strike that long face. Lefferts was handsome and full of pride.

"Why?" Archer asked.

Lefferts did not like open fights. He raised his eyebrows and made a cold face. His eyes pointed toward the young woman. She watched them from behind the screen.

His look carried a warning. A gentleman must never show anger in public. Nothing could break good form more completely.

Archer had never cared less about good form. Still, his wish to hurt Lefferts soon passed. He could not fight over Ellen's name. He would not trade ugly words about her either.

No act by Lefferts could make that right. Not at such a time.

Archer paid for the telegram. The two men walked into the street. There, Archer controlled himself again.

"Mrs. Mingott is much better," he said. "The doctor has no fear now."

Lefferts spoke at great length about his relief. Then he asked about the new Beaufort stories. The latest reports were terribly bad.

That afternoon, every paper announced Beaufort's failure. This news covered the report about Mrs. Manson Mingott. Few people knew how the two events joined. Most blamed her stroke on age and her great size.

Beaufort's shame threw a shadow over all New York. Mr. Letterblair never saw a worse case. Even his long-dead relation saw none. That older Letterblair gave the law office its name.

Beaufort knew his bank must fail. Still, it accepted money for one whole day. Many customers belonged to New York's ruling families. His trick seemed twice as cruel for that reason.

People might still feel pity for Mrs. Beaufort. But she called such troubles a test of friendship. Those were her own words.

Her night visit to Mrs. Manson Mingott also became known.

After that, people thought Regina was even colder than Beaufort. She could not claim that she was foreign. That excuse belonged only to her husband.

People without money in the bank found some comfort there. At least Beaufort came from another country. But then a Dallas relation spoke from South Carolina. He said Beaufort would soon stand strong again.

Regina's own family shared her view. So people could not blame foreign ways alone. They saw instead a terrible truth about marriage. A husband and wife could not be pulled apart.

Society must continue without the Beauforts. That ended the matter for most people. Yet the bank's innocent victims could not forget it.

Medora Manson lost money. So did the poor old Miss Lannings. Other foolish ladies from good families also lost savings. They should have listened to Mr. Henry van der Luyden.

Mrs. Archer gave her final judgment. She spoke like a doctor choosing a cure.

"The Beauforts should go to Regina's small North Carolina place," she said. "Beaufort always kept a building for race horses. Now he can raise fast horses there."

"He has every gift needed for selling horses."

Everyone agreed. No one lowered themselves by asking about the Beauforts' real plans.

The next day, Mrs. Manson Mingott improved greatly. Her voice became strong enough for orders. No one could speak of the Beauforts near her.

When Dr. Bencomb came, she attacked her family's fear.

"Why is everyone making such noise about my health?" she asked. "People my age should not eat chicken salad at night. What else could they expect?"

The doctor changed the food she could eat. Soon the family called her stroke simple indigestion. Indigestion was pain after the body failed to deal with food well.

Old Catherine spoke with her usual force. Still, her view of life changed. Old age slowly moved her away from the world. She still wanted news about her neighbors.

Their troubles never moved her much. Now she cared even less. She easily pushed the Beaufort event from her mind. For the first time, her own health held her full interest.

She watched every small sign in her body. She also began to care about certain family members. Before this, she hardly thought of them.

Mr. Welland won most of her new attention. She always ignored this daughter's husband. Mrs. Welland tried to describe his strong mind.

She said he could do great things if he chose.

Old Catherine only laughed. Now his long study of illness made him useful. She ordered him to visit her. They must compare the foods allowed by their doctors.

He could come when his high body heat fell. Catherine now knew that body heat was very serious. A person could never watch it too carefully.

One day passed after the family called Ellen. Then her telegram came. She would arrive from Washington the next evening.

The Newland Archers were eating lunch with the Wellands. At once, the family asked who could meet Ellen. Her train would arrive across the river in Jersey City.

The Welland home faced each small problem like a distant army camp. Every simple plan became hard. This question gave new life to the lunch.

Mrs. Welland could not go to Jersey City. She must take her husband to old Catherine that afternoon. They also needed the brougham.

Mr. Welland might become upset during the visit.

If that happened, the carriage must take him home at once. The Welland sons would be downtown. Mr. Lovell Mingott was hurrying home from shooting. His family's carriage must meet him.

May could not cross the river alone near winter nightfall. She could not go even in her own carriage. Yet Ellen should not arrive without a welcome. That would seem cold and rude.

It would also oppose old Catherine's clear wish. Mrs. Welland's tired voice blamed Ellen. Ellen always gave the family another hard problem.

"It is always one thing after another," Mrs. Welland said. "This sudden wish to see Ellen is very strange. Meeting her now causes so much trouble."

"Perhaps Mamma is less well than Dr. Bencomb says. That is my only reason for this thought."

The words came from a tired mind. Mrs. Welland did not think before speaking. But Mr. Welland jumped upon them at once.

"Augusta," he said. His face became pale, and he put down his fork. "Do you have another reason to doubt Bencomb?"

"Has he shown less care than usual?" he asked. "Has he failed with my health or your mother's health?"

Now Mrs. Welland also became pale. Her small mistake could cause endless new trouble. She saw it all before her. Yet she forced herself to laugh.

She took a second dish of baked oysters. Oysters were soft sea animals that lived inside hard shells. Eating helped her find her old bright manner.

"My dear, how can you think that?" she asked. "Mamma strongly believed Ellen must return to her husband. Now she suddenly wants Ellen here."

"That seems strange," she continued. "She could call six other grandchildren. But Mamma is very old, even with her great strength. We must remember that."

Mr. Welland's face stayed dark. His worried mind caught her last words.

"Yes, your mother is very old," he said. "Perhaps Bencomb is less skilled with very old people. We cannot know."

"As you say, dear, one problem always follows another. In ten or fifteen years, I may need a new doctor. I should choose one before I truly need him."

Mr. Welland reached this brave decision. Then he firmly picked up his fork.

"But the problem remains," Mrs. Welland said after lunch. She led them into the back sitting room. "How will Ellen reach us tomorrow evening?"

"I like every plan fixed one day before it happens."

The room was a wild field of purple satin and malachite. Malachite was a green stone with bands of color. Archer studied a small painting. Two Cardinals drank together in it.

A Cardinal was a high leader in the Catholic Church. The picture had eight sides and a black wood frame. Small pieces of onyx covered the frame. Onyx was a smooth stone with dark and light bands.

"Shall I meet her?" Archer asked. "I can leave the office in time. May can send her brougham to the ferry."

His heart beat with excitement while he spoke.

Mrs. Welland gave a thankful sigh. May stood near the window. She turned and gave Archer a warm look of approval.

"You see, Mamma," May said. "Everything will be fixed a day ahead."

She bent and kissed her mother's worried forehead.

May's brougham waited outside. She would leave Archer at Union Square. From there, a Broadway street car could take him to work.

May sat in her corner. "I did not want to give Mamma a new problem," she said. "But how can you meet Ellen tomorrow?"

"How can you bring her home? You are going to Washington."

"Oh, I am not going," Archer answered.

"Not going? What happened?"

Her voice was clear as a bell. It also sounded full of a wife's care.

"The court case will wait," Archer said.

"It will wait? How strange," May answered. "I saw a note from Mr. Letterblair this morning. He wrote to Mamma."

"He leaves for Washington tomorrow," she continued. "He will speak in the great inventor's case before the Supreme Court. You said your case involved an inventor, did you not?"

"Well, that explains it," Archer said. "The whole office cannot go. Letterblair chose to go this morning."

"Then the case will not wait?" May asked.

Her firm questions were unlike her. Archer felt blood rise into his face. Her open questioning broke all their rules of care. It made him feel shame for her.

"No, the case will not wait. My own trip will wait."

He hated all the details in his first false story. Somewhere he read about good liars. Good liars gave many facts. The best liars gave none.

Lying to May did not hurt him greatly. But he hated watching her hide her discovery. She knew that he lied.

"I will go later," he continued. "Luckily, that helps your family."

His words held a low and ugly attack. He felt May watching him. So he met her eyes. He did not want to seem afraid.

Their eyes met for one second. Perhaps each saw too far into the other. Neither wanted to enter that dark place.

"Yes, it is very helpful," May said brightly. "Now you can meet Ellen. You saw how much Mamma valued your offer."

"Oh, I am very glad to do it."

The carriage stopped. Archer jumped out. May leaned forward and put her hand on his.

"Goodbye, dearest," she said.

Her eyes looked very blue. Later, Archer wondered if tears gave them that light.

He turned and hurried across Union Square. One thought sounded inside him like a repeated song.

"It takes two whole hours from Jersey City to old Catherine's. It takes two whole hours. It may take more."