Manners

Steam billowed from the engine as a young woman descended the steps onto the platform. Her navy traveling skirt billowed around her and she felt raindrops on her neck. She hurried across the platform to seek shelter under the railroad building roof. She stood watching people hurrying to and fro in the rain, hailing cabs and greeting friends. When the platform was nearly empty, she looked around and spotted the ticket booth. Walking toward it, she bent her head to rummage in her purse for a small white card. Clutching it firmly in her white-gloved hand, she looked up to see a man standing several feet from her, watching her. She stopped. The man was tall and wearing a grey bowler hat. He bowed and spoke in a quiet, calm voice.
‘Miss Delia?’
The young woman blinked and slowly nodded.
‘I have come to escort you to your hotel, Miss Delia,’ the man said, smiling politely. Miss Delia glanced down at the card in her hand, which had the words The Denton Hotel stamped in gold letters on its surface. The man seemed to notice her hesitation and smiled more gently.
‘Yes, the Denton, Miss Delia,’ he said. ‘I understand you’re expected.’
‘Yes, yes I am,’ the young woman said, regaining her composure.
‘Then if you would just step this way, please.’ The man bowed and turned to gesture toward a black carriage waiting outside the station building. Miss Delia looked around the empty platform but the man answered her questioning glance.
‘Your luggage has already been retrieved, Miss Delia, and is waiting for you in the cab.’ He again indicated the waiting carriage, but there was no hint of impatience in his voice. Indeed, he seemed pleased to wait until the young woman was quite ready. The young woman allowed a flicker of surprise to cross her features, but a moment later she smiled faintly and stepped forward. The man walked beside her to the end of the platform, where he kindly opened the cab door and held out his hand to her. Miss Delia took his hand in hers and allowed herself to be gently lead into the dark carriage. He alighted after her and shut the door firmly behind him. With no verbal command, the cab immediately started off with a jolt. The young woman grasped the seat to steady herself and smiled sheepishly at the man. He returned her smile with a kind one of his own, then proceeded to gaze out the window as they trundled through the cobbled streets.
The rain was pounding the cab roof and night had fallen when they pulled up in front of the Denton Hotel. Before the young woman could move, the man had emerged from the cab and was standing holding an umbrella above the open door. The young woman, pleased with the man’s impeccable manners, took his hand once more as he helped her to the sidewalk. She heard him say ‘Miss Delia’ under his breath and nod to her politely as she passed. He escorted her up the steps and into the bright and warm hotel, his hand lightly pressing her elbow. As they stepped beneath a brilliant crystal chandelier, Miss Delia opened her mouth to thank the man but was interrupted.
‘Miss Delia,’ the man said softly, looking down at his shoes, ‘I was hoping you would allow me the pleasure of your company at dinner.’
The young woman, again surprised but quickly hiding it, smiled at the shy invitation.
‘It would only be polite,’ she said as the man looked again into her face, ‘to repay you for the kindness you have shown me.’
The man smiled his quiet, polite smile and bowed once more, leading the young woman into the dining room. The numerous tables were illuminated by candles glittering softly in golden brackets on the walls. The room was filled with the sound of murmuring diners and tinkling silverware as patrons of the Denton Hotel supped. Miss Delia hovered at the edge of the room, but the man lead her to an empty table in the very center of the sea of tables. The man pulled out a cushioned chair for the young woman, who sat amazed. She had never before been treated with such courteous behavior. The man took a seat across from her and removed his hat, placing it on the table next to him. Before the young woman had time to remove her gloves, a waiter materialized at their side with a bottle of fine wine. The man nodded and the waiter proceeded to pour drinks for each of them. Miss Delia began to suspect the man was more than he appeared, so as the waiter flitted away to bring menus, she opened her mouth to speak.
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ she began as politely as she could, ‘but you seem to be a man of influence here. May I ask what you do?’
The man smiled.
‘I’m in...’ He paused, and for a fraction of a moment, the young woman thought she saw a strange glint in the man’s eye.
‘Public relations,’ he concluded just as the waiter reappeared. The man took the liberty of ordering for the both of them, bowing politely to the young woman all the while. Dinner passed in a flurry of exotic dishes and fine wine, and the young woman spoke with more and more ease as the evening wore on. When the last dish had been whisked away and the last of the wine drunk, the man rose and stepped around the table to lift Miss Delia from her seat. She held his arm gratefully as they walked back into the bright lobby of the hotel. At the counter the man left her to secure a lift, and the young woman’s eyes followed him as she murmured her name to the clerk. He handed her the key to Room Six, watching her as she watched the man return.
‘A most polite man, miss,’ the clerk said as she took the key from his gloved hand.
‘Oh yes,’ she breathed and clutched the key close to her heart. ‘A more perfect gentleman I’ve never met.’
In the lift the two were silent, with the key held tightly in the fist of the young woman and the grey bowler hat dangling lightly from the man’s hand. When the lift shuddered to a halt, the man waited for the young woman to pass before he stepped out into the hall after her. She walked slowly down the hall before facing the door to Room Six, where she inserted the key into the lock with trembling hands. She turned to face the man as he was placing his hat gently on his head.
‘This is where we must part, Miss Delia,’ the man said regretfully, bowing slightly. The young woman nodded, clasping her hands together. The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small red rose bud, which he offered to the young woman. She stared at it for a moment, before reaching out and taking it in her warm hand.
‘A parting gift,’ he said softly. He raised his hand to touch the rim of his hat, then turned and walked down the hall to the lift. The young woman gazed after him for a moment, then she too turned away and turned the key in the lock. She stepped into the room, stared one more time down the glowing hall, then closed the door with a snap.
The following morning found the hotel staff congregated in a muttering, shuffling group outside the door of Room Six. A whisper through the huddle told that the young woman to whom the room was rented had vanished mysteriously in the night, leaving nothing behind. In fact, the room contained no trace of anyone having been there at all, save a tiny rose bud, just beginning to bloom, gently resting on the bedside table.

A young woman accepted the helping hand of a porter as she climbed onto the train. She wandered through the carriages, glancing in the compartments on either side to find an empty seat. Finally, at the end of the train, she found a compartment with only one other occupant. She entered and sat down, gathering her traveling skirts about her before glancing at the man seated across from her. He smiled and nodded politely before turning to gaze once more out the damp window. On the seat beside him was a grey bowler hat.