The Guardian by Diana Knightley
Forty-one - Kaitlyn
We walked down the ornately designed hotel hallway to the grand entrance stair, and descended to the lobby. Lady Mairead walked through as if she owned the place.
“I hae the something tae put in the safe, Harvey, I will return for it verra soon.” She placed a stack of bills in front of him.
He pocketed the cash, opened the safe, and brought out a drawer. She placed a vessel into the middle. “I will return for it after I hae eaten dinner.”
“Of course, Lady Mairead, we will be waiting for you, as usual.”
“If I am nae here tae retrieve it after dinner, ye may give it tae m’daughter-in-law, Kaitlyn.”
“Of course.”
I whispered, “I might be here by myself?”
“We ought tae be prepared for every eventuality.”
Uniformed bellhops and footmen bowed as we sashayed by, our dresses swishing around our knees. Lady Mairead was wearing a dress in silver, with beading in stripes, she looked very sophisticated, and as always had a way of carrying her head, that said, ‘important.’ No matter how I tried, her look made me seem like her personal assistant.
I said, “I’m nervous, this is all... you’re sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I ken what I am doing, I mean, I haena killed anyone before but—”
“You haven’t?”
“Nae. I am nae practiced in the art of it as ye are. How many people hae ye killed?”
“At least two close up.”
She smirked, “And ye are thinking I am nae tae be trusted.”
It had grown dark, the streets were crowded with restaurant goers and people moving in and out of clubs. Street lamps lined the street, but the pools of lights were dimmer than modern day.
Cars, very old fashioned cars, slid up to curbs and fabulous people stepped out. I noticed people looking at us as we passed.
As we came to the door Lady Mairead saw the friends we were there to meet.
“Clara! Marion!”
There were four people, two women, two men, everyone in finery, smoking, standing at the door of the restaurant.
As we walked up Lady Mairead said, “I hae never seen them outside the restaurant before.”
Her brow furrowed. “I will introduce ye, but perhaps I will nae go in. Ye must keep an empty seat, so that...”
“I know I know, the plan is already falling apart.”
I was introduced to Clara Bow and Marion Davies and the men, Percy Marmont, and B.P. Schulberg, both much older than the women. Percy Marmont had his hair slicked back and was tall and distinguished with a British accent. B.P. was younger and seemed to want to make sure everyone was happy. Every position they held was like a pose. A crowd began to form around them.
Lady Mairead expertly started a conversation between me and Clara Bow who had very big eyes and batted her eyelids incessantly. She was young, younger than Beaty it seemed, and twice as silly.
I was asking her about her dress when Lady Mairead leaned in and said loudly, “Hold a chair for me. I must run back tae the hotel. I will return in a moment.”
She was gone.
It was just me, making small talk with the ladies who were living long before I was even born. The press showed up, a reporter commanded, “Clara Bow! Smile!”
Her smile was dazzling. The two men in our circle preened. Percy, in particular, looked at once irritated and also grateful for having been photographed. Flashes went off around us and the maître d' rushed out to the sidewalk to usher us into the restaurant.
“My apologies to keep you waiting! Follow me, we had a private room set up, last minute...” and other things I probably should have taken note of.