“No,” she said. “I won’t do it from morning until night.”
Amelia and Levi and Barnum were at Barnum’s dining table, a place that had become an unofficial conference area for performance-related discussions. There were doors that could be latched shut on either end of the room, thereby keeping Caroline out (she always wanted to be near Amelia if the mermaid was in the building).
The reporters had been politely shooed from the museum, each one promising a sensational write-up of the new exhibit. Barnum had been unable to keep the glee off his face as he locked the museum doors behind them. The only thing Barnum loved more than ticket sales was the thought of free advertising.
“Young lady, may I remind you that the point and purpose of the exhibit is to see you. If you are not present, then who will buy tickets?”
“I will be present,” Amelia said. “But I won’t be present all day from the museum’s opening until its close. Even you must agree that’s an unreasonable request, Mr. Barnum.”
“Even I?” Barnum spluttered. “And just what do you mean by that?”
“You’ve got to give her a rest, Barnum,” Levi said, giving Amelia a warning look.
Amelia stared blandly back at him. She wasn’t about to tiptoe around Barnum’s feelings when he never did the same for her.
“If she’s resting, she’s not getting paid,” Barnum said.
“You don’t make your Mammoth Boys perform all day without stopping,” Amelia said. “Why do I not get the same consideration?”
“The Mammoth Boys aren’t the same draw you are,” Barnum said. “It’s a different situation. People are going to flood into the museum tomorrow with just one thing on their mind—to see the Feejee Mermaid. How can we disappoint them? If you’re not in your tank when they arrive, they’ll be angry and disappointed. They might even ask for their money back.”
The horror of this thought could be clearly read on his face.
“Why?” Amelia said. “You’ve said many times that you aren’t increasing the entry fee because of me. They can tour the rest of the museum if I am not there and obtain the same entertainment value that they always have.”
“And then leave and tell their friends that old Barnum was at it again, that it was all just another humbug? I can hear it now—‘I came all the way from Pennsylvania just to see the mermaid and there was no mermaid when I got there. Barnum’s Museum is nothing but a lot of stuff and nonsense.’ That would be terrible. Terrible. We need people to go home and tell their friends about how marvelous the museum is, how magnificent it was to see a real mermaid, how it is worth every penny to travel to New York City and take in the sights here.”
Barnum stood, pointing his finger at Levi and Amelia. “I don’t think either of you truly understand what’s at stake. This is bigger than just the mermaid. This is about the reputation of this institution.”
“I won’t swim in circles all day without a chance to rest and eat,” Amelia said, not deigning to acknowledge the reputation of the institution.
And get away from prying eyes, she thought. The tank in the museum would be much closer to the crowds than it was onstage. A rope had been strung around the glass to keep people from pressing up against it, but they would still be too close.
“What if we clearly posted the hours for mermaid viewings?” Levi said. “We could put them up where folks pay the entry fee. That way there would be no disappointment if they wanted to see Amelia. They would know that she was only on exhibit at certain times.”
“What if people decide to leave and not pay the fee at all?” Barnum said. “We would be losing business. And that’s your business, too, madam. Don’t pretend that you’re above such petty human concerns.”
“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.
“You want to make money, the same as me, the same as everyone. There are things you want, and you can’t get them without money. You’re not so different from me at all,” Barnum said, triumph in his voice.
Amelia stood. She wouldn’t have him shouting down at her. “You don’t know me, Mr. Barnum. You don’t know why I am here or what I want. Don’t think you can hold everyone to your same low standards.”
“I am paying for you, and you will do what we agreed,” Barnum said between his teeth.
“You are not paying for me,” Amelia said. “You are paying me, and there’s a difference.”
“Barnum—” Levi began.
“And you,” Barnum said, pointing at Levi. “Always taking her side, always playing the knight-errant. If you want to get into the girl’s skirts then do it, but stop getting in the way of my business.”
“You seem to think that my skirts are available for lifting on demand,” Amelia said. “I am not a whore, nor will I be one for you, Barnum, or you, Levi Lyman.”
“Amelia, no, I would never—” Levi said. His cheeks were ruddy, and his expression was a cross between pleading and anger. The anger, she knew, was for Barnum, but she couldn’t worry about Levi’s feelings just then. She had to make things clear to Barnum.
There had always been the threat of his fist closing around her from the start. He wanted to control her, keep her in a bottle, make her a possession. Thus far she’d managed to squirm away from his grasp, but she was tired of it. He needed to understand that it was she who held the power now, not him. All the money that he wanted would not appear without her.
“I will dictate the terms of my performance, Mr. Barnum, not you. You’ve already expressed that the museum would suffer without my presence for an hour. I imagine it would suffer even more if there was no mermaid there at all.”
“You signed a contract,” Barnum said.
“You need a mermaid,” Amelia said. “How will you ever recoup your expenses without me?”
She’d been careful not to smile or to express any annoyance or anger in her face. Throughout the conversation she’d remained perfectly cool and blank, but it was difficult to suppress her glee at the trapped look in Barnum’s eyes. She had him, at least for now.
Amelia didn’t fool herself that Barnum was beaten. It was only a temporary setback to him, and he was too crafty to try such a straightforward assault again. There would never be a time when she would not have to be on her guard against him.
Barnum laughed then, a short, sharp bark with no mirth in it. “Lady Amelia wants rests and meals, and so she shall have them.”
He gave an exaggerated bow in her direction. She nodded. Levi seemed to be struggling to keep up, which was unusual for him. Amelia thought he must still feel embarrassed about Barnum’s crude statement. Later, when the two of them returned to the hotel, Levi asked if he might enter her room for a moment to speak to her.
Barnum had kept on a few of the toughs who’d guarded the stage at the Concert Hall to watch Levi’s and Amelia’s hotel rooms at night. They appeared in an irregular rotation so that Amelia was never certain if she saw the same man twice, particularly since they superficially resembled one another. They were all large and squinty-eyed and wore good coats, but they could not hide the scabs on their knuckles.
The necessity of their services had been increased from night watch to all-day and all-night watch due to reporters. Several of the men who seemed to live in the hotel lobby had become more aggressive of late.
One morning Amelia had opened the curtains in her room to discover one of these newspapermen hanging from a rope outside her window. As soon as her curtains parted he began shouting questions through the glass. If he thought to startle her into speech he’d been badly mistaken. Amelia had calmly left her room, knocked on Levi’s door, and told him (in a quiet undertone, just in case there were reporters outside his own window) what had occurred.