The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb - Melanie Benjamin [61]
“Why, I—” Mr. Barnum happened to turn my way; he caught me shaking my head and he clamped his mouth shut—after first giving me a small, admiring nod. “That is, your daughter’s reputation reached my ears from other performers who spoke highly of her; her beauty and grace are known far beyond the Mississippi.”
“They are?” Papa looked at me, then scratched his head, as if trying to see these attributes and failing. I smiled fondly; I knew I was just his daughter, just his Vinnie, and I loved him for that. Even though he had never known precisely what to do with me, he had always loved me for no special reason at all, which satisfied my heart more than I could ever tell him.
“Yes, they are. This is quite a daughter you have here.” And they all three beamed upon me as if I were an unopened Christmas present.
“We just don’t want any deception perpetuated in her name,” Mama announced, in an almost apologetic tone. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Madam, I assure you. Anything I say in public will be only with Miss Bump’s knowledge and approval.” Mr. Barnum turned to me, and once again I saw that sparkle flickering behind his gaze.
“Now, Mama, Papa, I would very much like to talk to Mr. Barnum alone,” I said decisively. This was my future, after all, and I had sat by, discussed to no end, for long enough. I wanted to talk to the man plainly; I had no desire to bind myself to anyone like Colonel Wood ever again. Even though he was the Great Barnum, I was determined not to let my vanity cloud my judgment this time.
“Really? Do you think that’s wise?” Mama asked Papa, as if I wasn’t there.
“Yes, I do,” I answered for him. Papa looked at me in that odd way again. I nodded gently at him and then waited as he and Mama withdrew outside, at Mr. Barnum’s suggestion, to stroll about the grounds and see the stables.
“Now,” he said, pulling his chair over to mine and slouching so that we sat, knee to knee, eye to eye. “Let’s have it. I perceive you are a most remarkable woman, Miss Bump.”
“Why is that, Mr. Barnum?”
“You sent me that letter, didn’t you? The one with all your clippings—but you didn’t tell your parents?”
“No, I did not.”
“And why is that? I have to say, it’s very unusual for me to hear from a performer directly in this way; I was surprised to find you weren’t already under contract with someone.”
I hesitated for only a moment before replying, “Well, I’m not. And I desire only the best for my career, which prompted me to write to you.”
“And about that career.” Mr. Barnum leaned back a little and lit a cigar, puffing it for a few moments before continuing. “Tell me about it. I know those showboats. I know the West. I know it’s a wild and woolly place. How did you survive it?”
Again, I hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I got out just in time, because the War came. I won’t deceive you; it was not easy. I was not pleased with the vulgar manner in which—in which my cousin decided to exhibit me. For that matter, I would like to know your plans before I agree to anything. I think you should know, right off, I have no intention of being a female Tom Thumb.”
“You don’t?” He raised a bushy eyebrow, and I had a sense of the steely flint that gave that merry light its spark.
“No, I don’t, sir. I will not be paraded around in costumes and uniforms; I will not do imitations; I will not be your performing puppet. I think it’s not fitting for a woman, and it’s certainly not fitting for me.”
“You think Charlie Stratton’s my puppet? Why, you know nothing of it,” Mr. Barnum growled, reminding me of a grumpy bulldog with his round face, round nose, crooked mouth. “He’s my good friend, and he bailed me out of a real jam recently, agreeing to go on tour again because I needed the money. He was just a child when he dressed up in those costumes; it worked for him then. Now he’s a man—as you’re obviously a woman.”
“That’s precisely my point. I am a woman, not a puppet. I desire respectability in all things. And protection, too, from—from—well, protection that any lady would require from those who would take advantage of