A Desperate Plea and a New York Awakening

She looked at me as if I were a worthless, insolent wretch. Your father could not endure the humiliation of having his company ruined and ended his life with a pistol. This place is no longer your home—it is mine. There is no portion of your inheritance left for you, so return to France at once!

Maurice continued with a cruel smirk. “I hear that the moment your father died, you were abandoned by your husband. If you wish to avoid the miserable life of a penniless divorcee, you should prostrate yourself before your husband right now and beg. Out of old affection, I have kept enough for you to leave on. Do not refuse it and keep it.”

He pointed to the bundle he had tossed at my feet. Then, glancing uneasily at the murmuring servants, he clicked his tongue. “You cannot even grasp the situation, and here you are, still acting as if you are Lancaster’s princess—tsk!”

Maurice turned sharply toward the butler and said coldly, “Dismiss them all. Admit no one.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Glending.”

The moment he left, the butler swiftly closed the door. The bolt shot home with a loud clack.

Ethel and the servants stood frozen, as if struck by lightning, unable to move or speak.

“…Mother?”

Carlyle called Ethel cautiously. She started, turned around, lifted her chin, and straightened her posture. Her bloodless lips trembled, but she gave the order in a calm voice.

“Fred, go and fetch two carriages. We are going to the Waldorf Astoria Hotel.”

As I stepped into the carriage, my gaze drifted back unthinkingly. I saw Fred secretly picking up the bundle that had fallen to the floor. I wanted to tell Mother, but I bit my tongue and held back the tears while watching her side profile.

The Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Fifth Avenue at 34th Street was the finest hotel in New York, more lavish than Versailles itself.

After checking into the suite at the Waldorf Astoria, Ethel remained locked inside the room and did not emerge. The muffled sobs drifting through the door crack filled the lobby with heavy silence.

While the servants whispered with heads bowed in concern, only Ada stayed by my side, acting as my companion.

The next morning, Fred was gone. The following day, the lady’s maid vanished too. The expensive dresses and fur coats she had brought with her were also gone from the trunk.

Lying on the bed, I heard the news and stared blankly at the empty space. I pulled the blanket over my head and wept repeatedly.

A month later, we moved to the Breslin Hotel on 28th Street in Broadway. It was not the highest class, but it was passable at least.

It was Ada who had overheard somewhere that long-stay guests received a discount on the suite and had passed the information to me.

After lessons with Miss Jennings, I would take Ada with me all over Manhattan.

Since arriving in New York, she had become my companion and surrogate mother, teaching me the “street smarts” that Miss Jennings did not cover.

New York was an ever-stimulating city filled with endless sights.

We toured the newly built theaters on Longacre Square, once known as Times Square, which rose tall enough to pierce the sky. We strolled up to Central Park and visited the animal exhibits, and soon time flew by.

Sitting on the second-floor deck of the streetcar, we circled Manhattan for hours, memorizing the geography. When hunger struck, we bought sausage sandwiches or pretzels from street vendors.

Ada was humorous and skilled at navigating the world, far wiser than she appeared. Despite growing impatient with my endless questions, she would stop passersby and quiz them if she did not know the answer.

Recently, we had heard about a building shaped like a folding iron and headed downtown. After admiring the unusual facade of the Flatiron Building, we wandered south when we accidentally lost our way in a confusing alley.

This was a scene I had never seen in the New York I had known for ten years—the most shocking sight of my life.

“Ada, who lives in such a filthy place? Ugh, the stench…”

I pinched my nose.

“Poor people live here, young master. Most are probably immigrants.”

“Immigrants—people who moved from other countries?”

My English had improved noticeably after arriving in New York.

“Yes, exactly.”

“…Then am I an immigrant too?”

“Well… you are French, but half-American… so you are both, and not. How confusing.”

I was deeply shocked by the sight of children in rags wandering barefoot in the alleys, selling newspapers and shining shoes. The street children, reeking of garbage and filth, looked ancient and exhausted like old men.

“…Why do those children have to do such things?”

Ada answered with a look of disbelief.

“Because they are poor.”

“Why are they poor?”

“What kind of question is that? They were born poor, so they are poor. Not everyone is born a noble like you, young master.”

Ada watched my confusion and added, “Their mothers sew by piecework or work as maids, and their fathers labor at construction sites or docks. It is already hard just to eat one day at a time. Good-paying jobs never reach immigrants who cannot speak English or read.”

She sighed worriedly.

“Still, the Countess should find a rich lover soon or return to Paris. Running out of money is only a matter of time… I worry we will all end up on the streets.”

Ada stopped abruptly and covered her mouth. Then she glanced at me fearfully.

“Th-this is something I never said, young master.”

“I already heard.”

“But I would rather you liked this nonsense. If you tell the Countess I said that, I will be in trouble! Please…”

“I will not say it. Instead, answer my questions honestly. If you do not, I will repeat everything you said.”

Ada pouted at my threat.

“When you look at me like this, you sound just like Mr. Lancaster. What exactly are you asking?”

I asked seriously.

“What does ‘government’ mean? Tell me everything you know about my father and ‘that woman’.”

I could only guess from Ethel’s scattered words. I did not know the full details because everyone had kept quiet in front of me, as if bound by a promise.

I wanted to go back home. I missed the apartment in Paris, the vast fields of the estate, and the seaside villa overlooking the Mediterranean.

It was clear that Mother’s decision to leave the house was connected to “that woman.” So before returning, I needed to understand exactly what she meant.

“I will explain once we leave this neighborhood. I am terrified of bad things happening if I stay here too long.”

Suddenly, I felt eyes watching us from every direction.

Only after I had retraced the path I had taken did Ada finally spill all the facts she knew.

It felt as if the puzzle that had refused to come together was finally fitting into place.

“…So when the Count died, to ensure the young master inherited everything, the Countess did not divorce him but ran away… no, she left. She said she would not hand anything to the son of the government.”

She sighed deeply.

“But if things continue like this, it might be better for the Count to die than for the Countess to end up on the streets. But for heaven’s sake, young master—this is something I never said!”

The hotel stay was becoming longer, and cash was running low. Ethel, sensing the danger, grabbed my arm and muttered in a shaky voice.

“Carlyle, staying in hotels longer than necessary is foolish. Better to find a townhouse. Selling a few jewels should suffice…”

I was startled that Mother would ask such a question when she was only ten years old. Perhaps she did not know the world as well as I had assumed.

“That would be best, Mother.”

I answered carefully.

It was because I had overheard Miss Jennings telling Ada, “Having servants and staying in hotel suites with no income coming in is the height of stupidity. If you do not tighten your belt now, you will be on the streets in an instant. A woman who lived like a princess her whole life worrying about nothing—wake up before it is too late. Ada, you too. Find your own way before it is too late.”

Miss Jennings was a highly educated governess handpicked by Douglas for my English lessons. Word had it she was from a fallen noble family in Boston.

After lessons, she would spread out her newspaper and scan the classifieds meticulously, apparently unconcerned about hiding the fact that she was looking for new work.