Chapter 22

New Year's Eve, 1905

Manhattan

"Happy New Year!" Elsie raised her glass to the friends and admirers who flocked around her: her old theater chums, her new

patrons from the Fifth Avenue set. She'd chosen Rector's for her celebration because it brought both facets of her life together.

Always popular with the Broadway set, Rector's had a taste of the Plaza about it, only with more drama—and more lobster.

As for herself, she was decked out in a Paris confection she'd been saving for the New Year celebration, the new era of Elsie

de Wolfe. Expensive enough to turn old-money heads with just enough flash to excite the literary and theater set.

Her guests mingled shoulder to shoulder with those they might not otherwise ever behold. And from what she could see, they

were all making quite a go of it.

Tonight was her triumph. Elsie the indestructible. She'd left a successful theater career for an even more challenging and fulfilling profession.

So what if that headline was only surface deep? She had at least had the good sense to get out before the decline, unlike

poor Delilah Gamlen, who stood a few feet away, clinging to a painfully small group of admirers.

Elsie wondered if they noticed that Del had been putting on weight and her makeup was applied a little too thickly. The observation didn't give Elsie a rush of glee, but a profound sadness mixed with overwhelming relief. And she praised the gods—and Bessie—for giving her this second chance.

Dear Bessie. Everything she touched seemed to turn to gold. Good reviews, box office sales, extended performances. She was

standing across the room, with Anne, of course, and Charles Frohman, probably hatching a new hit play over champagne and chocolates.

But tonight it was Elsie who was on the top of the world. She'd found what she was really good at. Thanks in part to Bessie.

She caught Bessie's eye and smiled. Bessie excused herself and started over, followed by Anne. Tonight Elsie didn't even begrudge

Anne or the amount of Bessie's attention she demanded.

It had been touch-and-go at first, culminating when the two of them had hied off to Anne's country estate the day after Christmas.

Though Elsie could hardly believe that J. P. would allow Bessie in the door, some sort of armistice must have been struck

between the two power brokers of Anne's future.

Left behind, Elsie might have languished, but fortunately, within the hour, she was back at work at her Colony Club, going

over the final designs they would be presenting within the week to the decoration committee.

The renderings were spectacular. Just as she saw them in her head. Of course, to give credit where credit was due, Stanny

and Nora, her hardworking assistant, had done the actual paintings, but the ideas were all Elsie's. Stanny hadn't even made

suggestions. She'd invited him for dinner tonight but as usual he was already engaged. Which probably meant he was out carousing

with the reprobates he seemed to prefer these days. Which was doing him no good, either for his health or his reputation.

By all accounts, they were a predatory bunch. Even though they were discreet, word had a way of getting out. Elsie only hoped

that none of it was true.

Bessie and Anne finally made their way to her through the crowd.

Bessie leaned closer to be heard. "You look radiant, my dear."

"Oh, Bessie, I feel like I've finally found my milieu. I've received so many offers to decorate homes that I've had cards

made up."

"You'll need to get a proper office soon," Bessie said. "And a showroom where you can highlight the artists and antique dealers

you already have at your fingertips."

"Yes," Elsie said. "I'll be a great success."

"Not just a success, my dear. You'll be the mother of American interior design."

Nora stood in the assembly room before the first club meeting of the new year, perusing the five presentation pieces, double-checking

that the proper sample swatches and detail drawings were placed by each selection.

Working with Elsie and being so directly involved in the process of furnishing rooms, Nora had gained a new perspective about

the work. Rather than frivolous and lightweight, she saw it as a synthesis of form and function. Pleasing to the eye and inviting

to the body. As a building of any kind should be.

And as much as she had resented it at the time, she had to admit that the experience had been an excellent opportunity to

understand aspects of architecture that she would have missed in the drafting room. Exactly what George told her would happen.

She wouldn't be part of the presentation this morning. Still, she had dressed in her tidiest working attire. She'd briefly

considered wearing her best dress, but she didn't want anyone to think she was trying to rise above her station as a hired

architect. But what was her station? Mrs.Harriman had said they were all professionals. Though Mrs.Harriman didn't have

to work for a living. Bessie did, Elsie did; actually many of the single ladies did.

They all treated Mr. White like he was one of them. And she supposed he was. They even showed deference to George, though perhaps he, too, came from a rich family. There was a lot she didn't know about the workings of society, even after almost a year of working among them. She just knew that she would never be one of them. Which didn't really matter. Her profession would define her existence.

And that was fine. Because she was an architect.

"Nora, what on earth are you doing standing there with your head in the clouds?"

Nora jumped at Elsie's voice. Her head had been in the clouds.

"I was just taking a last look."

"They look divine. I hope Stanny uses you for all his projects."

Nora smiled. Working for Mr.White would mean financial security. And yet... Patience , she reminded herself.

Voices sounded from the hall.

"They're coming," Nora said superfluously.

Elsie consulted her watch. "They're early."

As she said the words, Bessie and Mrs.Harriman walked into the room. Nora moved to the side to make a quick departure.

"Nora," Daisy said. "How was your Christmas?"

"Very nice, thank you." If you looked past the mess she'd had to clean up from her roommates and the depressing day she'd

spent in Brooklyn, she'd had a whole day to incorporate her newly discovered ideas into her own designs.

"I hope Elsie and Stanford gave you a few days off."

"Heaven forbid," Elsie said. "We live for the work, don't we, Nora?"

"We do." Nora could attest to that fullheartedly. The work, for her, at least, was everything.

"Well, it certainly looks like you've been busy," Mrs.Harriman said, indicating the row of easels.

They were interrupted by the arrival of several other ladies, members of the decorating committee, the twelve women who would

bestow their judgment today.

Nora started to slip away.

"Aren't you staying?" Mrs.Harriman asked.

Nora glanced at Elsie. She hadn't mentioned to Nora that she would be needed.

"That's not necessary," Elsie said. "You've been working all morning. Have a cup of tea."

Not necessary ... Not that Nora wanted to stay for the meeting. She wasn't really comfortable around the ladies. Even though most of them

were perfectly nice and she did want to hear their opinions. And she would.

She said goodbye and passed several other ladies entering the room. When she was certain all had arrived, she took her notebook

and pencil, just in case anyone had a suggestion, and slipped up the narrow stairs to the musicians' gallery to listen in.

She sat in the chair she'd pulled over near the rail and peeked quickly over the edge to see Bessie at the front of the room

and the backs of twelve heads. Then she leaned back where she couldn't be seen from below. Heard Bessie call the meeting to

order. Then Elsie's brief introduction, and then the first picture. "This is what I call the trellis room. As you can see..."

"What on earth is a trellis doing all over the walls?" asked one lady, clearly upset. They weren't even giving Elsie a chance

to explain things.

"It will be relaxing to have your tea and conversation in a surrounding that is like a garden. From the fountain to the tiles, to these tables and wonderful octagon-backed chairs."

"But tearooms are always—"

The rest of her sentence was cut off as other voices rose to give their opinions.

Nora gave up trying not to be seen. She peered over the railing.

Elsie looked small and gossamer standing alone in front of this formidable group. Nora wished she'd insisted on staying to

lend her support.

"Ladies!" Bessie banged the gavel on the table. The ladies subsided. "Let us listen and learn before espousing our own opinions."

"I've been overseeing the decor of my home for nearly four decades, and I think I know what a room should look like."

Nora couldn't tell who had spoken. A large-brimmed black hat with feathers and some kind of bird with its wings spread covered

the speaker's face.

Nora stared at Elsie, trying to tell her to stand firm, but she needn't have bothered.

Elsie just smiled graciously at her audience.

Mrs.Harriman hadn't said a word throughout the exchange. Nora scooted over to get a look at her face. Like always, her expression

was thoughtful and benign and didn't give anything away. But Nora wondered what she was thinking. If she was suddenly worried

that they'd chosen the wrong decorator.

They hadn't, and Nora longed to go down and convince them of that. She'd started out just like them, questioning Elsie's abilities.

Her ideas had been odd and unusual then, but they made perfect sense now.

Elsie patiently waited for the ladies to subside, then said, "I have no doubt that we all have ideas about how a club should

look. But think about it for a moment. Do you want just another men's club? Brown chairs, brown wainscoting, brown carpeting.

Why, I can almost smell the stale cigars."

Someone tittered.

Another said, "Never in our club."

"You're thinking that trellises are just strips of wood, forming a plain lattice as any garden walk would have. But the French

take these same strips and follow all sorts of beautiful patterns with such skill, they were an inspiration for this room.

If you'll look closer..." The row of women leaned forward; several got up to peruse the sketch at arm's length.

"On days like this..." Elsie continued, "when the weather is cold and the wind is raging, you step into the club, take off your outerwear, and voila! You're in the trellis room, a winter garden. Warm and bright and comfortable, where you can sit alone with a good book or chat with friends."

Slowly, curiosity began to overtake skepticism.

Elsie moved on to the rendering of the guest rooms, each furnished with a simple four-poster bed with side table and lamp,

a small chaise longue, and a dressing table with a mirror. Elsie had barely begun to describe it when the opinions began again.

Nora sighed. It was going to be a long morning at this rate.

"It's too plain. Barely more than a servant's room. The bed is plain, the dressing table is plain."

"Bedrooms should be lush and feminine," another lady agreed.

"Feminine?" asked Elsie. "When a woman reaches her hotel after a day's journey by train or motorcar, what does she want most?"

"A cocktail," called out one of the ladies.

That did get some laughter.

"True, but as to her room, I do not believe that she cares one iota whether or not her bed is of gilded wood with cupids perched

on the four corners, or if the drapes fall in classic folds from ceiling to floor. Or if the painting of an Old Master hangs

on the wall. What she wants first of all is a good bath, which is right through this connecting door." She made a graceful

gesture to the far side of the rendering at the outline of a door. "And a comfortable chair or chaise where she can put her

feet up for a few minutes before going out again. Ribbons and tassels and paintings by Grand Masters don't add to our comfort."

"But what are those pear-shaped things over the dressing table?"

"Lights," said Elsie. "How many times have you tried to dress for the evening and you can barely find your earlobes for lack of lighting? It comes, I'm sorry to say, from men doing the decor. These lights will shine right where you need them for dressing your hair and face. No more hit-and-miss in the dark."

"I've said that for years," said Mrs.Perkins. "Bully for you, Elsie. I like it."

Nora sat spellbound as Elsie wove her web and drew them in.

"And when we dress to go out, or the next morning, the lights can be properly arranged so that we can sit at the table and

get some idea of how we're going to look when we face our friends and society.

"Ceiling lights and lamps halfway across the room can't tell a woman where a dab of powder should go, or if her coiffure needs

a little attention. What is the signature of an Old Master in comparison to that?"

Nods and murmurs. Elsie would have them eating out of her hand like seals at the zoo before she was finished.

"The sufferings women have endured from this form of martyrdom would fill volumes and have gone on too long."

"Hooray," yelled Sarah Hewitt.

Elsie bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "Too long our homes have been designed without our comfort in mind. The Colony Club

will change that. A new look, for a new age."

Applause. A couple of the women shook their heads, but the room was Elsie's.

"I assure you, you will have a club that caters to your comfort and your needs, leaving you free to participate in endeavors

that interest you."

Elsie executed another practiced nod. Nora wouldn't have been surprised if she'd fallen into a full-blown curtsy. The room

erupted in polite, but enthusiastic, applause.

The motion to accept was voted on and passed and Nora took the opportunity to sneak back to her office, where she waited just

inside the door to listen as they all gathered their coats and left.

Then waited impatiently for Elsie to return, which she did a few minutes later, with a relieved, "Whew," as she closed the door and leaned against it.

"You were splendid," Nora said in a gush of admiration.

"You heard?"

"I was in the musicians' gallery."

"Je pense que c'est le succés brilliante!"

Nora concurred. Higgie's French lessons must have been paying off, because she understood completely.

"I thought that lady in the bird hat was going to fight you."

"I knew she'd come around."

"How?"

"I'll tell you a secret. One that every good actress, salesman, or politician knows. Instead of giving people what they think

they want, give them what they ought to have, and teach them to want it."

Nora blinked, then recited Elsie's words in her head so that she wouldn't forget them.

"Don't look so serious, my dear. I was an ugly child born in an ugly age."

"But you're beautiful," Nora protested.

"Changing myself was a great accomplishment. I project beauty and therefore am seen as such. But changing this age in which

we live, there is a real challenge." She trilled a laugh. "They've been living with this oppressive Victorian idea of decor

and decorum for so long, they think they're experts on everything. It's just never occurred to them there might be something

better.

"In that world, they are experts. And afraid of anything different or new. But things will change. They will change. And I will be the one who changes

them."