Turning on her heel the way Nellie had done, Katie hurried out into the aisle. A darkened glass hung in Nellie’s train car and caught Katie’s eye. She stopped and studied the reflection. There, where a simple Amish girl had been, an English lady stood, ready to meet the world. Katie lifted her chin and followed the cries of the people.
“Nellie, Nellie,” they chanted.
But for an instant, she was almost certain they were chanting for her.
***
“Ostentation, Katie Knepp.” Nellie, decked out in her tweed jacket and matching hat, stood on the train’s platform while her people unloaded trunks and cases and boxes around them. A sea of waving hats unfolded before them.
I’ve never seen so many people, or so many hats, in one place at one time!
Nellie stared off over their heads and into the tangle of dirt streets that led into New York City. “Ostentation and glamour.”
“Nellie? Nellie!”
A man’s voice sounded over the din of admirers gathered at Central Station. Katie heard him, but was powerless to pull her attention away from her surroundings.
Nellie waved one arm wide and beamed. “Hello George!”
George?
“Nellie,” Katie whispered. “Is this man, George, your husband?”
Something in Katie froze. Though she had run away from Gasthof Village, turned her back on her Amish faith, and somewhat consented to tag along with Nellie Bly on her worldwide escapades, never before had she considered that she’d be traveling in the company of a man. The mere thought of it brought a roil to her stomach.
“George, my husband?” Nellie cast an incredulous look her way. “Why no.”
By that time, George had climbed the stairs onto the platform. A short, squat of a man, he huffed as he hurried over to the pair of them, bowler hat clutched in his hands.
“George Madden, meet Katie Knepp.” Nellie turned to face her. “Katie Knepp, Amish girl in your lovely English gown, meet my editor, George Madden. His is the brain behind all this hullabaloo.”
Nellie smiled.
George extended his hand. “How do, Miss Knepp.”
Unsure of proper protocol, Katie jerkily accepted his hand and gave it a shake, as she’d seen menfolk do.
George, a bright-eyed fellow with a wide smile and rotund face, chuckled. “My my, you are something else Nellie. Picking up strays no matter where you are.”
Katie smiled, unsure of what else to do.
George released her hand and wiped his own on a hanky.
Katie balked and examined her hand. She’d never seen a man do something so out-and-out rude as to wipe his own hand after shaking someone else’s.
“I’ve been known to pick up a stray here and there.” Nellie offered Katie a wink. “Everything in order, George?”
“Yes it is. All is well.” George swept his arm toward the steps. Katie was unsure of what he was doing, until Nellie began to walk that direction. She sucked in a breath and followed them, straining to hear whatever snippets of conversation she could.
“Everything is set and will take place as scheduled. However, there is still some concern over your ability to complete this trip.”
“And what is that, pray tell?”
Katie clomped down the stairs behind them, still struggling to hear.
“Well, frankly my dear, that since you are a woman, you will be unable to complete this trip as scheduled. At the very least, you will need a protector of some sort.”
George withdrew, as though he feared Nellie would thump him.
“Still a problem that I am a woman.” Nellie sighed. “I survived a madhouse and brought about reform to some of the lowliest souls in New York, yet some say I cannot complete a fictional trip around our globe.” Nellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and rubbed a finger along her chin. “Then I say, do print this. I say in response to those who believe I cannot make the trip in seventy-five days or less...”
George’s eyes widened as he fumbled for a pencil and pad.
“That they shall start a man on the same day as me. And I shall still beat him.”
Katie was helpless to keep a smile from overtaking her lips.
“Now, George, tell me,” Nellie began. “When is it I leave?”
“9:45 in the morning, Miss Nellie, 9:45 sharp. From the docks, aboard the steamship Augusta Victoria, which will take you on the first leg of your journey, across the freezing Atlantic Ocean to London.”
“Very well.” She turned to Katie. “I do believe that leaves us the night to sightsee and enjoy the city.”
“So we shall,” Katie agreed.
“Please face me,” a voice called. There, a man stood with a giant box before him. “Don’t move for the Kodak.”
“Kodak?” Katie whispered.
“It takes a photograph,” Nellie whispered. “Or freezes a moment in time. This one will be printed in the newspaper New York World.”
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.
The words flashed into Katie’s mind so fast and with such force, she almost stumbled backward, out of the frame of the Kodak’s all-seeing eye.
But she didn’t.
She stood for the image, with Nellie posed to her right and George to her left, both looking austere. She, however, probably looked seasick.
After the puff of smoke from the Kodak’s flash disappeared, Nellie grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
Her sin forgotten, Katie allowed herself to be pulled along. The tingle of excitement lit her veins aflame again. “Where are we going?”
“To the opera house.”
“Opera house?” Katie’s heart pounded in her chest. This was all so forbidden, so...Despite the pounding in her chest, a twist of guilt remained there, somewhere, hidden deep within. For a moment, she imagined her mother’s eyes, hurt and sad. At once, her mother’s visage was replaced by that of her twin sister, Annie’s, shameful downcast glance at her behavior. Somewhere over all of them, was Peter.
Katie ignored the shudder that overtook her.
