Free The Time Heiress by Georgina Young- Ellis Page B

large plaza in the center of it all. Lovers sat at proper distances on benches. Some children played games in open spaces, while others were hurried forward by parents eager to be on their way. 
    Cassandra reached up and plucked a dying bloom from an overhead branch. Waving her hand over the scene in the park she commented, “It looks like a painting by Seurat.”
    “I was thinking Manet,” Evie replied.
    “It also makes me think of Henry James’ Washington Square .”
    “I have not read it.”
    They walked on silently.
    Evie extracted her arm from Cassandra’s. “It smells better than it did last night; this area is paradise compared to the Five Points.”
    “A well-off neighborhood gets cleaned up during the night by the street sweepers. By the end of the day, it will probably be pretty rank again.” Cassandra watched a horse deposit its offering on the street.
    “Why don’t we find a place to eat,” said Evie, “I am hungry now.”
    Cassandra looked at her pocket watch. “It is one-thirty. I suppose I could eat lunch.”
    They turned west on Fourth Street, then north on Sixth Avenue and in a couple of blocks spotted a café with floor to ceiling windows running along the front, filled with well-dressed patrons. They entered and were stopped by the maître-d’. 
    “A table for two, please,” said Cassandra.
    As he led them to a table in the center of the room, they were met with stares from the customers and the staff.
    “Is this to your liking?” the man asked.
    Evie looked around, pleased by the scrubbed wood floors and crisp white tablecloths. She spied a table by the windows. “No. Can we have that one instead?”
    Cassandra raised her eyebrow, but Evie ignored it.
    “I am sorry, that one is reserved.”
    Evie removed a dollar from her hand bag.
    “Will this un-reserve it?”
    “Evie!” Cassandra hissed.
    The maître-d’ took the money. “I suppose I can move the previous reservation elsewhere.”
    “Thank you.” Evie smiled at Cassandra triumphantly.
    Once they were seated, Cassandra began, “Evie, that was rude! I was embarrassed.”
    “Nonsense. One must be assertive in this world.”
    “In our world, maybe,” Cassandra whispered. “Here, we must be more demure.”
    “Fine, I will not do it again.” Evie buried her face in the extensive menu.
    The restaurant offered a prix fixe luncheon of several courses for three dollars a person, from which they each chose soups, appetizers, entrees, salads, side dishes, desserts, and wines. Once the elaborate meal was finished, it was nearly four.
    Evie was feeling tipsy.
    “Can we please walk over to the church, just to see if anyone is around?” she asked after they’d paid the bill.
    “Very well, yes. I could use the exercise.”
    But the twenty-minute walk across town brought nothing but a locked churchyard. Evie stood and gazed at the structure.
    “It is beautiful, now as much as it will be.”
    Cassandra agreed.
    “How could I have confused the Bowery with Second Avenue?”
    “They are actually quite close to one another. The street called Bowery is what Third Avenue turns into just a few blocks south.”
    “I want to come back in the morning.”
    “Of course. I thought that was the plan.”
    Again, Evie thought, your plan. But she did not say it.
    Once back at the hotel, she was glad that Cassandra didn’t seem in the mood to chat. When she met her in the sitting area of their suite, Cassandra had already arranged herself on a sofa with her journal, pen and ink, her reading book nearby, humming some song. Evie returned to Persuasion but found she couldn’t concentrate on the story, and Cassandra’s droning, though barely audible, was irritating. Her stomach was full of butterflies in anticipation of the morning. After a half an hour of her mind wandering to fantasies of what she hoped to learn at the church, she told Cassandra she was tired and went to her room.
     
    Travel Journal, Cassandra Reilly: May 8, 1853—I’m not