Excerpt from The Butterfly Cage
Note: Although this is the fourth book in the series to appear, chronologically the events take place in the fall of 1913, a few months after the events in the first book The Whispering Women.
Chapter 1
Louisa
Louisa Delafield ripped the page from her typewriter and handed it to a copy boy.
“This has to make the next edition,” she told him, donning her hat and grabbing her purse from the lower drawer in her desk.
“Where are you off to now?” Ellen asked.
“Penelope Gaines is having a small reception for the former president while he’s in town. She insisted I come early, which means I must dash home first and change into something presentable,” Louisa said. “Hold the fort, please.”
She hurried out of the building and found a cab.
The summer of 1913 had been idyllic if somewhat hectic. Panama hats bedecked with ribbons and bows were all the rage, knee-length bathing costumes gave women new-found freedom to enjoy the surf, and socialites dashed from horse races to tennis matches to costume parties as if their lives depended on being seen in every possible venue. Louisa had documented it all for her New York readers in The Ledger as well as in her nationally syndicated column.
Now a slight autumnal melancholy tinged the early September evenings, and the white shoes were put away for next year. September and October would provide a lull as one by one, the yachts returned to their berths, families streamed back to their Fifth Avenue houses and Central Park apartments, and the women who ruled the upper class began plotting the next season’s events.
The unexpected death of New York City’s mayor had temporarily thrown the schedule into disarray, but it had given her something important to write about. The taxi dropped her off in front of the Dakota on the Upper Westside. This area had become more fashionable as of late, and she wasn’t surprised that Penelope Gaines had chosen to live here. As wealthy as she was, she was not a member of Caroline Astor’s crowd. Not to mention, she was divorced. However, if Vanderbilts could get divorced then so could everybody else. Penelope Gaines had made her own name in society by regularly hosting a number of charitable soirées and tea dances. She also had gained a reputation of being the life of the party.
Louisa took a private elevator to the third floor. A butler opened the door and showed her into the reception area of the luxurious apartment. While she waited, Louisa glanced around and took mental notes. She’d never been in the Dakota before, but she’d heard the apartments had all been custom designed. She glanced up at the high ceiling and then down at the parquet floor, inlaid with mahogany and cherry wood. It was as nice as any town home.
“Louisa Delafield, I’m so glad you could come a few minutes early. I have some news you may want for your column,” Penelope said, holding a highball glass in one hand. Tall and blond, she wore a flattering rose chiffon dress with a fashionable raglan waist and a high-neck collar. She had been the daughter of a successful banker when she married Charles “spend-a- million” Gaines, a boisterous barbed-wire mogul, who never fit in with the staid society of New York. The marriage had not worked out, and they’d been separated ten years ago. Recently they made it official with a divorce.
“I hope it’s happy news and not another funeral,” Louisa said, “although I will say that was a spectacular event.”
“No, no, this is happy news,” Penelope said, leading Louisa into the drawing room. In front of a huge fireplace stood Dominic Gallo. Louisa was not terribly surprised to see him there as he had been seen out and about with Penelope since sometime in the spring. A dashing man with black hair, dark eyes and a dazzling smile, he smiled now as Penelope took her place at his side.
“The news I have for you is that Dominic and I recently got married.” Penelope grinned.
“Married?” Louisa asked. She had not expected this. “Why didn’t you tell me beforehand so I could have announced it in my column?”
“It was rather spur-of-the-moment. I wanted to get married before Caroline’s coming out season so that Dominic could be at my side for the balls. Of course, now with the mayor’s death we’ll also be busy with other plans.”
“Such as?”
“Dominic’s political career,” Penelope said, slipping her hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow.
So that’s what this reception was about. Penelope was grooming her new husband for political office, and they were hoping to get Taft’s blessing.
The doorbell rang, and Penelope gulped down her drink before hurrying off to greet her guests.
“Miss Delafield,” Dominic said, turning his full attention to her. “I read your columns religiously. Thank you for promoting the women’s right to vote, a cause near and dear to my heart.”
This was even more surprising than the news of their nuptials, Louisa thought. First, that he was reading her column and secondly that he cared about women’s suffrage. Then again, if he were hoping for a political career, he was certainly the sort who could win the women’s vote if they had one. He was not only handsome, he was so charismatic it was almost uncomfortable being alone with him.
“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t know you were interested in politics, Mr. Gallo.”
“Please call me Dominic,” he said. “When I came to New York ten years ago, I fell in love with this city. I was born in Italy, but moved to San Francisco as a boy. With a small inheritance I bought some land. Land was cheap in California then. But I always wanted to come back to the city that I had seen as young boy. And so I sold the land and came here and bought an import/export business. New York welcomed me with open arms. Look at me, Miss Delafield, a
poor boy from Italy and now I am married to a beautiful woman and I am surrounded by luxury. I want to give back to this city which has given me so much.”
He smiled and she felt herself melt a little. No wonder Penelope was so smitten.
Then she noticed a quiet, severe-looking woman in black, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, reading a book. Louisa wasn’t alone with him, after all. But who, she wondered, was this woman? A distant relative? She certainly was not a member of society or she would never have simply ignored Louisa, but she was no servant either.
