Gwen disappeared down a hallway, leaving Patrick and Liam to stand uncomfortably in the gilded monstrosity of a room.
“This place gives me the willies,” Liam said.
Patrick silently agreed, but Gwen’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I heard that! You’d better get used to it, because Mrs. Carnegie’s home is even fancier.”
Liam sighed and plopped onto a chair. The delicate legs didn’t collapse, so Patrick joined him on a nearby chair that looked like a throne. Suddenly everything felt very real.
“Don’t let a little fancy decorating throw you off your mission,” he said to Liam. “We’re only six votes away from saving the college. I can almost taste it.”
“I don’t care about saving the college. I want to stop the steel merger. I’m only six votes away from that too.”
Patrick sent him a warning look. “Louise Carnegie will never side with you, and if you alienate her, we lose our best shot at saving the college. You need to choose which battle to fight.”
“I came here to fight for the workingman, not a bunch of rich college students.”
Patrick vaulted off his chair, trying to hold his temper in check. He was on the verge of winning this for Gwen. “Who do you think benefits from the medicine Blackstone College makes? My mother has worked all her life in a hot kitchen, getting up before dawn to make bread for the people of this city. She is who the college helped. With a little funding and God’s blessing, the next time a steelworker comes down with tetanus, the serum will be there for him too.”
Liam glowered at him from the chair. “Andrew Carnegie has been the face of everything I’ve despised all my life. My father burned his hand while slaving at Carnegie Steel, and he never got a dime in compensation. All we got were threats of eviction because my dad was out of work for two weeks and couldn’t make rent. And then there was the time—”
Patrick cut him off. “Andrew Carnegie doesn’t even know who you are. Right now we need his wife’s cooperation. If you lecture her on the wickedness of her husband, we’ll walk away from this with nothing. We need to fight smart. Fight hard. I’ll be with you the entire way, but don’t you dare embarrass your sister by showing contempt for the Carnegies.”
Now Liam was equally angry. He stood and started bellowing union platitudes, his voice echoing in the mostly empty mansion.
Gwen’s voice broke the rant. “I step away for a few minutes, and the two of you are at each other’s throats?” She stood in the open doorway, looking aghast as she held a tray of sandwiches.
Patrick closed the space between them and took the tray from her. “Never mind us. Did you get through to Mrs. Carnegie?”
Gwen nodded. “I spoke with her butler, and he said we can call on her tomorrow. Apparently, rumor of William Blackstone’s resurrection from the dead is already making the rounds in the city, so I think she’ll be willing to receive us. We should practice tea etiquette before heading over to see her.”
Gwen went on to say that Mrs. Carnegie was a delightful woman but that they would still need to comport themselves with the utmost formality.
“I have already sent for your new suits to be delivered from Queens by tomorrow morning,” she said to Liam. “And the macassar oil would be a good idea. I know you don’t like it, but it would be best to have you properly turned out.”
Patrick should probably swing back to the Five Points and get his own suit, because everything he had was grubby after traveling for the past two weeks.
They polished off the sandwiches, and when a maid pushed the tea cart into the room, Gwen coached Liam once again. “Back straight. Bring the teacup to your mouth, and don’t slurp.”
They finished the first pot, and Gwen had just ordered another when the doorbell rang.
Patrick instinctively stood to answer it, but Gwen pulled him back down. “Let the butler do it.”
“Yeah, Patrick, let the butler do it,” Liam teased.
A bit of laughter bubbled out of Gwen. “You seem to be settling into this new life with ease.”
“Is that how it looks?” Liam quipped.
“Ahem.” At the entrance to the parlor, the butler cleared his throat. “Mrs. Carnegie is here to see you, ma’am.”
Patrick whirled to gape at the butler. Sure enough, a frighteningly grim middle-aged woman stood in the doorway. He scrambled to his feet and sent a warning glare at Liam, who finally stood as well, a sullen look on his face as he glowered at Mrs. Carnegie.
Louise Carnegie didn’t look anything like Patrick expected. She was only forty-three but looked much older, with a dowdy face and matronly gown. She had a boxy attaché case and a scowling expression. In comparison, Gwen looked like a work of art in her flowery, floating silk gown.
“What a delightful surprise,” Gwen said as she glided forward to greet Mrs. Carnegie.
It was a lie. Now that Patrick knew Gwen better, he could tell when she was terrified, and this was it. Her formal demeanor and carefully modulated tone were dead giveaways.
Mrs. Carnegie barely acknowledged Gwen. She simply stared at Liam. “You are William Blackstone?” she barked.
Liam nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You look like your father,” Mrs. Carnegie said without a hint of warmth. “I came the moment I heard you had arrived in town. I am aware of your history with various steel unions, and I want your unconditional assurance that you will make no attempt to disrupt the impending creation of U.S. Steel.”
Mrs. Carnegie had not even entered the room. She stood in the doorway and tossed the gauntlet down at Liam’s feet. Liam did not bend.
“Not interested,” he said bluntly.
Gwen raced to intervene. “We actually came for a number of reasons, not just the steel—”
“I’m here over the steel deal,” Liam interrupted. “The creation of U.S. Steel is a monstrosity that can’t be allowed to happen. I’ve got a seat at the Blackstone Bank, and I intend to use it to block the merger.”
“You won’t succeed,” Mrs. Carnegie said.
Gwen fanned herself. “My, the temperature rose so quickly,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Let’s all sit down and have a nice cup of tea, shall we?”
“Tea isn’t going to solve anything,” Liam said.
Patrick had to save this situation before Liam threw a bomb into his future business partnerships that could never be called back.
“Tea is the beverage over which empires and alliances have been forged for centuries,” he said calmly. Actually, strong drink and cigars probably facilitated more of those deals, but Mrs. Carnegie was calling the shots, and tea was probably her thing.
Gwen gestured to the table nestled in the alcove of a bay window. They sat, everyone so stiff that the air practically crackled. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Gwen poured tea and passed cups to each person at the table. Every clink of china sounded harsh.
Mrs. Carnegie left her tea untouched but looked directly at Liam. “I will waste no time on polite conversation when the well-being of my family is at stake,” she said. “My husband has an unhealthy obsession with the steel company he founded, but it is past time for him to retire and enjoy his golden years. That will only happen if he sells the company, and I intend to be sure it happens.”