The weeks turned into a year. Daniel learned Latin, complicated mathematics, and how to sleep alone. He learned to live in two worlds: that of the privileged, which he half inhabited, and that of the city’s slums and gang life, which he knew best. He wore the right clothes, after a year could say the right things, and finally figured out which spoon was meant for soup and which for pudding. Almost exactly one year to the day after they arrived at the Gramercy Park townhome, he reluctantly boarded a steamer for Britain and was thrust into the exclusive world of English public school.
At Eton, it became abundantly clear in minutes that his newfound knowledge of upper-class ways was utterly useless. To the English boys, he might as well still have been speaking with a Five Points accent; in their eyes, a Yank was a Yank. He had to relearn which fork to use all over again, as the rules of etiquette were different overseas, and had to bloody a few noses when the insults got out of hand. He was almost expelled for those, but suspected a generous donation from New York kept his place—for a time. After a few weeks, the other boys steered clear of him, leaving Daniel lonelier than anything he had ever experienced, until one day a thin blond boy plunked himself down next to Daniel at tea and began peppering him with questions about New York while eating Daniel’s biscuits. Daniel didn’t mind, and soon he and Rupert Milton were allies. He even began spending the Christmas holidays at the crumbling Umberland estate rather than returning to New York as he did for the summer. Even run-down, the house was larger and grander than anything Daniel had ever seen, putting the Van Joost mansion to shame.
Daniel felt as though he were living a half life during those years at Eton, mostly immersed in his studies, enjoying camaraderie with Rupert and holidays with the Milton family, but once a year, during the summer months, he was thrust back into his old life in New York. He kept close to home during the long days, trying to see his sister when he could, and would slip out of the Van Joost mansion at night to roam with his childhood friends.
It was his graduation from Eton and his return to the States to attend Harvard that changed things. Nobody from New York had attended the actual ceremony in Britain, though Rupert’s mother had given him a peck on the cheek and a small gift. Due to particular circumstances at Rupert’s home, it was decided that he would attend Harvard as well, and Daniel set sail for New York after making plans to meet his friend in Cambridge later that summer. Once he was back, Maggie took him to dinner to celebrate, proud and lovely in a green silk dress purchased for the occasion. Despite being the mistress of one of the wealthiest men in New York, she did not live like one. Daniel didn’t know if this was by choice or not, as they didn’t talk about her relationship with Jacob, but he guessed it was. Even though he lived on the periphery of the household, it was clear that Jacob was besotted with his sister. Now an octogenarian, he watched Maggie like a hawk, loudly insisting she be the one to dust the Frederick MacMonnies sculpture in the drawing room, or be the one to bring him afternoon tea. The few times Daniel had glimpsed these interactions over the years, such as Maggie placing a pillow behind Jacob’s back as he read the evening paper at his querulous request, the naked longing and devotion he witnessed on the old man’s face had made his own face burn in response, as if he had walked in on the pair in an intimate act.
At the steakhouse Maggie had taken him to on the West side, Daniel felt awkward and tongue-tied, a stranger with his own flesh and blood. Maggie looked pale and drawn, though this only accentuated her beauty. Her deep green eyes and rich brown hair had drawn admiring glances all night, and Daniel had come to the uncomfortable realization that people assumed they were a couple.
“Off to college at summer’s end,” she marveled quietly, sipping on a glass of beer. “Mam and Da would have been so proud, Danny.” Daniel shrugged silently, unsure of what to say. He was looking forward to going to Cambridge and leaving New York. It was growing increasingly difficult to reconcile his two selves, and he was ready to leave at least one of those halves in the past. Slipping out at night with the Toughs, involving himself in the turf wars and grievances of gang life, and avoiding the constant machinations of Tommy Meade had ceased to hold any appeal for him. He continued the practice only out of loyalty to his friends and his past. Harvard would be a different kind of challenge, but whether he liked to admit it or not, Jacob’s gift of education had changed him irrevocably. He doubted he would spend the summers at home, even though Boston was a far cry closer than Eton had been.
He needed a break from his dual existence.
It had been a fine early summer night, and Maggie had slipped her arm through his on the walk home.
“I’ll miss you, Danny,” she said, breathing the night air deeply. She stopped a block short of the Van Joost mansion and fiercely met his eye. “You mustn’t forget where you come from, ever. And you mustn’t be ashamed of it, ever. Mam and Da were good people, decent people. You are too, Danny. Even though you still run with the Toughs.” She shook her head at his half-articulated protest. “I know you do, though I wish you wouldn’t. But I understand why.”
They had reached the servants’ entrance of the mansion.
Maggie laid a hand on his cheek and leaned in to
