That Friday, I completed my sixteenth year. Having left the Asylum and obtained a position, my dreams for the day were already fulfilled. I was very surprised when Mary brought out a cake, and all sang in honor of my birthday. Karl led us into the library, and presented me with a silver comb, mirror and brush set in remembrance of my birth. I could not help but cry. (Some Bill Newcome!) The Sergeant presented me with tongs and a shirt so that I need not soil my dress when my lessons resumed, and Alexander gave me a bouquet he had picked himself. Karl also indicated a polished wooden box on the mantle I was to receive later.

We spent most of the day in celebration. Karl astonished me by playing airs on the pianoforte. I learned several new songs and was complimented on my dramatic contralto – very rare among women, according to him. Also, I had my first wine – a delicious Madeira. Being a novice, I drank more than I should, and became lightheaded and silly, but no one criticized.

After dinner, I was recovered. I put Alexander in his napkins and laid him in the crib. When I returned downstairs, Karl and the Sergeant were in the library, sipping brandy and smoking cigars. They poured me a taste, but did not offer me a cigar (nor did I want one – for they smelled foul indeed).

“Nancy, the Sergeant told me how well you did with the Colt Walker, but that it was not proportioned to your strength.”

I nodded in silence.

“Yesterday, I sent him to Manhattan to find something more effective than a hat pin to defend yourself – and Alexander – with. In this box is a Colt Patterson pocket revolver. It is .28 caliber instead of .44 – giving it much less kick than the Sergeant’s Walker. Also, its barrel is only an inch and a half, so you can carry it in your purse. Once you learn to use it, I want you to carry it whenever you are out with Alexander until we are sure the danger has passed.
”
“Of course.” I looked in the box. In addition to the pistol, there were many accessories. Most I was not yet familiar with. One, however, was an extra five shot cylinder.

The next day was Saturday. Constance agreed to mind Alexander in my absence. I said I needed to go to Manhattan to get the dresses I had ordered.

The Sergeant was kind enough to take me to the depot. Before we left he showed me how to harness Becky, and, on the way, how to drive the trap. He sat by me, but his closeness was not displeasing, for he was a perfect gentleman. In fact, I quite enjoyed it.

Having made the train journey before, I arrived without incident. At Mrs. O’Malley’s shop I tried my new dresses. The work was exquisite, so I added a generous gratuity. She was quite grateful, and called Molly, a homely girl, from the back to receive my compliments. Then she gave Molly the whole gratuity. I quite was pleased at this liberality, and pledged my future custom to her shop. I left in my new Sunday dress – violet cotton with lace accents. I arranged to have the rest delivered, as the boxes were quite bulky.

As noon was approaching, I walked to Waverly House. A stand in the lobby displayed a weekly broadsheet headlined “Man Dies Under Locomotive.” I paid my penny and read an account of Tuesday’s events. Other than a man in a grey suit being killed, the story bore little relation to reality. It suggested suicide and embellished the scene with the screams of horrified on-lookers. Since no one had claimed his body, my assailant was buried in a pauper’s grave – without benefit of clergy. I must admit to enjoying the image this conjured of him roasting in hell.

Just before noon told, Caroline entered the lady’s lounge and beamed a smile at me. We joined in a warm embrace, then retired to the lady’s dining saloon. A gratuity to the hostess ensured a quiet table overlooking an indoor garden. Caroline viewed me with evident admiration.

“What a lovely spot for luncheon, Nancy. I have only eaten in victualing houses open to the street. Have you eaten here before?”

“Yes, I dined here last Monday. The prices are extravagant, but I thought you might enjoy it. Consider it a celebration. I have a new position, and the anniversary of my birth was yesterday.”

“Congratulations on both counts! May I ask of how many years you are?”

“Yes, I am 16.”

“Really? I am 18, but admire you as a woman of strength and maturity.”

“That is very kind.”

She was about to go on when the serving maid asked our order. Caroline looked at me in some puzzlement, so I ordered for both of us: salads, cold mutton and parsley potatoes, and, by way of celebration, two glasses of Madeira.

When the maid left, Caroline whispered, “What is Madeira?”

“A lovely wine. I had some yesterday to celebrate the anniversary of my birth. You will enjoy it.”

“Wine? I never had wine. Being with you is such an adventure, Nancy!” She paused. I could see timid reluctance in her eyes. “I want to begin our friendship in honesty. I am of low birth. I would understand if a governess, such as yourself, would rather not associate with me.”

“There is no need for that. I like you as you stand.”

“Still, you must hear me out.”

“Of course.”

“I am the natural daughter of a banker and a maid of his household. My father has always shown mother and me kindness, but has not acknowledged me. Still, when I came of age, he secured me a position as companion to Mrs. Sarah Wells, a widow of advanced years.”

“I care not about your birth! I am orphan, and while my parents were wed, many I called ‘friend’ were foundlings.” I embraced her as a sign of acceptance.

She returned my embrace with affection. “Thank you!” Spontaneously, she kissed me soundly on the lips.

When we were recovered, she said “Tell me of your new position, and of your previous occupation.”

I told her of briefly of my family and orphaning, of my service as a nurse at the Asylum, and of being retained as a governess – ending that I began my new occupation the very day we met.

Caroline wanted to know more, and asked about my first week. I had received little attention until recently, so her interest was gratifying. As I recounted my tale she was gripped with concern and peppered me with interjections of anxiety and admiration.

“May I see your armory?”

“My armory?”

“Yes, your hat pin and knife.”

“Oh, here is my pin, … and my knife.” I pushed the pen blade and the stiletto sprang open with a click.

“Oh my! The man in grey threatened you with that?”

“Yes.”

“You are truly amazing Nancy! I would feel safe with you anywhere.” Her eyes were filled with esteem.
I chose not to mention my new Colt, fearing it would test her credulity.

We dined well and enjoyed our wine (though I found it inferior to that Karl had given me). When we finished our mutton and potatoes, the attendant asked if we desired a dessert. She supplied each of us with a card listing Ice Cream, Sherbets, and Roman Punch made by the chef d’ cuisine – who claimed to be from Paris.

They were terribly expensive, and Caroline urged me to decline. I wanted to impress her, so I ordered Roman Punch – having no idea what it was. The maid brought us goblets containing a dollop of toasted meringue floating on a golden elixir of lemonade, orange juice, Champagne and rum. We were both quite silly when we finished.

We left arm in arm. Caroline had a strange, languid look in her eyes and urged me to accompany her to her rooms – where she assured me we would have the utmost privacy. Despite a feeling that I was behaving unnaturally, I was drawn to her, and about to agree when I realized that the last train to Yonkers would leave in thirty minutes. Caroline was devastated that I declined. She pulled me into the doorway of a shuttered shop, pulled my lips down to meet hers, and gave me such a kiss as I had never experienced – pressing her body into mine and invading my mouth with her tongue. My breathless excitement made departing all the more difficult. Still, I pulled away, promising to spend more time with her the following week. My voice was unexpectedly hoarse.

As I hurried to the horsecar stop, I received bemused stares from passersby. My reflection in a shop window revealed the reason – my face was smeared with red lip balm.

The Madeira and Roman Punch had their final effect on the ride back to Yonkers. I fell asleep and would have missed Yonkers had the conductor not woken me. My turbulent dreams had been filled with images of Caroline and me, some in a state of undress. Thus, my face was flushed as I alighted.

The faithful Sergeant was there with the trap. “I must say, Miss, you are so flush that, did I not know better, I would swear you were returning to camp after a spin with a doxie.”

“I fell asleep on the train – besides I do not have the equipment for it, Sergeant!”

He chuckled, but continued to gaze at me, finally picking a golden hair from the shoulder of my dress.

“And here is the proof!” he said jovially.

I blushed. “I dined with a new friend. … Sergeant, you are such a tease!” I was ever so glad I had repaired my lip balm.

“I meant no disrespect, Miss Nancy. It is just how it struck me. I had a couple of pints while I was waiting.
I should o’ kept my yap shut.”

“I am not offended, Sergeant – after all, we are comrades in arms,” I said lightly.

“Yes, good ones,” he said embracing me with one arm as he drove.