button tufting, it seemed as if nothing could ever go wrong again.
They had gotten into a parlor car, so they had their own little room and a porter in a white coat to see to their needs. Seats were dusted, pillows fluffed, ice water fetched. All around them, red velvet and burled wood shone, polished brass winked.
The atmosphere seemed to rejuvenate Stanton substantially. His eyes seemed brighter and clearer, his face ruddier, his mood noticeably more cheerful.
“I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders,” he sighed pleasurably, stretching his long legs out before him. “Not to mention from my ears.”
The train charged toward Chicago. Night came. The attendant laid a table for them with white linen and crystal, and served steaming bowls of terrapin soup and fat grilled steaks. Stanton bolted the food ravenously.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, as he was working on his third plateful. “After our business is done, I must show you around New York. I hear Central Park is coming along quite nicely.”
Emily, taking a deep swallow of red wine, smiled slightly.
“Mr. Stanton, I’d be overjoyed to see Central Park or any of the wonderful sights New York has to offer.” The idea of sightseeing was so ludicrous as to be unimaginable. A free trip to see the wonders of New York, and all she had to do was stay one step ahead of military blood sorcerers, escort the spirit of a dead holy woman around her neck, and avoid becoming a rampaging Aberrancy. What a delightful bargain!
“You’ll like New York,” he said with a certainty she thought he had no claim to. “It’s a wonderful city. Everything anyone could ever want is there.”
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back,” she said. “And your family will be pleased to see you, I imagine.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her, considering the statement.
“I hadn’t thought of it,” he said. “If bringing you back to the Mirabilis Institute contributes to the glory of the Stanton name, maybe they will be. Perhaps even tickled, though imagining my mother in that state is quite disturbing.”
Emily stared at him. There was so much about the words that puzzled her, she didn’t even know where to begin.
“But you’re more than just a name.” Emily looked at him. “A family’s more than just a name.”
“Not my family,” Stanton said, stabbing a piece of steak with his fork.
“Then it doesn’t sound much like a family,” Emily said. “At least not my idea of a family.”
Stanton shrugged. “I think we’ve already established that your ideas and the ideas of civilized people are not always precisely aligned.”
“I’m not talking about civilization,” Emily snapped. “I’m talking about common decency.”
“So then we’re not talking about my family,” he said.
“Any particular reason you’re being so tedious? Or is it just a matter of general principle with you?”
Stanton tasted his wine, grimacing at some defect.
“Vile stuff, and halfway corked to boot,” he said. He twisted the stem of the crystal between his long fingers, regarding the offending liquid with a frown. “My father is in politics, as you learned. He’s an awful crook, but he’s one of the most powerful men in the Republican party.” He paused. “All the money’s from my mother’s side of the family. Her people are old Dutch, and she spends her time brutally enforcing the rock-ribbed ideals of propriety and decency that comprise ‘the way things have always been done in New York.’” He looked at Emily. “I can’t imagine you want to hear more.”
“Try me,” Emily said. She herself saw nothing wrong with the wine and was glad to pour herself another large glass.
“Three sisters—”
“Euphemia, Ophidia, and Hortense,” Emily interjected.
“As unpleasant as their names suggest,” Stanton continued. “Being the youngest, I was constantly subjected to their malformed mimicry of motherhood.”
“They put your hair in curls and pushed you around in carriages, didn’t they?”
“One prefers not to remember,” Stanton said, taking up his glass, unsatisfactory as it was, and draining it swiftly.
When dinner was finished, the porter retrieved their plates and glasses, cleared the table, offered them a selection of reading materials, and volunteered to turn their lights up or down. He seemed on the verge of offering to get down on his hands and knees and provide them with a human footstool when Stanton waved him away.
Emily sat looking out the window, her chin cradled in her hand. The sunset was a beautiful shade of lavender, the clouds tinged with lime. Before the sun went down again, she