After Innocence (36 page)

“Oh, Sofie,” Rachelle whispered, seeing her stricken expression. She hugged her again. “I understand. But what will you do?”

“Leave. Now. Tonight.” As she spoke, her determination crystalized, fueled by a very real panic that bordered on terror. Very grim, Sofie said, “It’s time for me to take Edana home.”

New York City—November 1902

W
hen Sofie first glimpsed the great Statue of Liberty and the distant Manhattan skyline, a feeling of joyous relief overwhelmed her. Sofie clung to the ship’s railing, almost weak with relief. Never had she needed her family more. She missed them terribly.

And she could not wait to show off Edana. Sofie knew that Suzanne would fall in love with her granddaughter the moment she saw her. Everyone did, for the small baby girl was so pretty and sweet, she was picture-perfect.

Sofie’s hands tightened on the rail. Edana had undoubtedly received her good looks from her father. Sofie had tried to imagine Edward’s wrath many times since she had fled Paris in the dead of night with Edana and Rachelle. Guilt consumed her every time, for hadn’t she said she would never deny him his daughter? And God, she had meant it. and not only out of fairness to Edward. Too well Sofie recalled growing up without her own father. She could not ever wish such a fate upon Edana. She did not want to sever the relationship between Edward and Edana, she did not. But she could not marry Edward. Not even for Edana’s sake.

Briefly she thought of that frightening night. The carriage ride to Le Havre had been endless and terrifying, for Sofie had expected Edward to materialize out of the night like a nineteenth-century highwayman, preventing her from escaping with their daughter, perhaps even dragging her before the nearest cleric. It was not until she had boarded an outbound vessel that next morning, and not until that
ship had actually slipped free of its moorings and steamed into the harbor, away from the docks, away from French soil, that Sofie’s fear had finally diminished. And then she had sagged over Edana, sobbing, torn.

Now the huge French steamer chugged up beside the docks on the East River harbor, the seamen crying out with gusty excitement, planks and gangways crashing down. As they disembarked, gulls wheeled overhead and the waiting throng cheered the arrival of the passengers. Rachelle carried Edana, for she was far stronger than Sofie in any case, but especially now. Sofie had not been able to sleep well on this journey. She had little appetite and she had lost weight. What appetite she had was forced, for she must nourish her daughter—she was afraid she might cease producing milk. Rachelle had hovered over her like a hawk. She had scolded like a mother hen. Sofie did not know what she would have done if Rachelle had not insisted that she come with them.

They had fled with one single bag that contained just a few changes of clothing and necessities for the baby. A porter took that valise and summoned a hansom. Sofie could not relax. She began to point out landmarks to both Edana and Rachelle. At five months old, Edana was alert and happily watching everything.

They passed Tiffany’s, Lord & Taylor, F.A.O. Schwarz, the Company Gorham. They left Union Square, turned onto Madison Avenue. Sofie’s smile faded. They were not far from Delmonico’s.

It felt like yesterday, not more than a year ago. If she closed her eyes, she could transport herself back to that day, to that wondrous moment in time, with Edward sitting across from her, so handsome and elegant and seemingly so sincere, and she could feel how she had loved him. It was insane, but she could feel how she still loved him, despite it all.

“Sofie,
petite?
Are you all right?” Rachelle asked.

Sofie blinked and took a deep breath. “Everywhere I look … I see him.”

Rachelle reached out and squeezed her hand.

Finally they turned past the two guardian lions and into the circular, graveled drive in front of the imposing Ralston
residence. Sofie leaned forward, eager and trembling. The hansom pulled up and Jenson appeared on the wide stone stoop. Sofie handed Edana to Rachelle and stepped from the hansom. Jenson cried out when he saw her.

Sofie smiled then. “Jenson! I’m home!”

He rushed forward to greet her, beaming in a manner thoroughly inappropriate for a butler. “Miss Sofie! That you are! And about time—if you don’t mind my saying so!”

Rachelle climbed out of the hansom, holding Edana. Smiling, Sofie pulled her friend forward. And as she did so, an old memory suddenly surfaced and Suzanne’s warning words echoed in her mind.
You cannot bring a child home.

Jarred, feeling slightly uneasy, Sofie gripped Rachelle tighter. “Jenson, this is my dear friend and companion, Rachelle du Fleury. And this is my daughter, Edana Jacqueline O’Neil.”

In the foyer, more servants rushed out once Sofie’s presence was known. Although she could not shake off her slight uneasiness, the warm welcome of the staff made Sofie terribly glad to be home. She hugged Mrs. Murdock, who had tears in her eyes. “This is my friend and companion, Rachelle,” she said, pulling Rachelle forward with the baby. “And this is my daughter, Edana.”

Mrs. Murdock’s eyes widened and she paled. It took her a moment to recover, unlike Jenson, who had hidden his shock by retreating behind formality almost immediately. “She is beautiful, Sofie.” Mrs. Murdock gripped Sofie’s hand. “Oh, my dear—I did not know!”

Sofie managed a smile.

Mrs. Murdock became a briskly efficient housekeeper once more. “We shall put you in your old room, of course, and the baby next door with Rachelle. I will have your studio cleaned inside and out today, and it will be ready for you to go to work first thing tomorrow!”

Sofie was moved. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Edana sleeps with me, but Rachelle can have the adjoining room.”

Mrs. Murdock nodded and sent maids scurrying upstairs.

“Is no one home?” Sofie asked then.

“Mr. Ralston is attending to business downtown. Your mother is out to lunch with the ladies. Lisa is in the garden.”

Sofie turned to Rachelle. “Come. Lisa knows, of course, and is eager to meet her niece.”

They hurried through the house. Sofie paused on the threshold of the terrace, which overlooked the gardens. She had expected Lisa to be alone. She was not.

She was in a gentleman’s embrace. And he was kissing her.

Sofie’s eyes widened. From where she stood she had an unobstructed view of the couple—and this was no chaste kiss. The man, who was tall and broad-shouldered, had Lisa bent over one of his arms while he kissed her very deeply. Sofie coughed. Instantly they broke apart. Lisa was flushed, with far more than just guilt. But then she saw Sofie and she cried out and lifted her skirts and came running.

Sofie cried out as well, stretching out her arms. Lisa had never been lovelier. Clad in a green-on-green striped gown with darker gloves and hat, she was stunning. Lisa rushed into her embrace.

When they separated Sofie turned to face the gentleman, who had strolled up to them. Lisa stood proudly beside him, her arm now looped in his. Sofie started, not just at the open display of intimacy. For he was not just tall and powerfully formed, he was very handsome, gray-eyed and darkly golden; in short, he was more Greek Adonis than mere man. Sofie recognized the glitter in his gaze. She was dismayed. She knew firsthand where such desire would lead Lisa.

“This is my fiancé,” Lisa said, beaming and clinging. Beside him she appeared dark and small, the perfect foil to his blinding brilliance. “The Marquis of Connaught, Julian St. Clare.”

“Lisa, I did not know!” Sofie cried. She was pleased—and relieved. They hugged again. Sofie turned to the marquis. “I am so pleased to meet you. I am Lisa’s stepsister, Sofie O’Neil.”

He was not smiling. His nod was somewhat curt, but he bowed politely. His words were correct, but that was all.
“I am honored to meet you, madam. My betrothed has told me much about you.”

Sofie managed a smile, stealing a glance at Lisa, who did not seem to notice her fiancé’s dark humor. She could only assume that he was displeased with Sofie’s untimely intrusion. And then Edana made a loud burp, distracting everyone.

Lisa froze. Sofie grew rigid, as well. It was one thing to introduce Edana to Jenson, Mrs. Murdock, and Lisa, quite another to a stranger. Despite having lived in Montmartre for more than a year, despite her bravado, Sofie was well aware that society would frown upon her daughter and herself.

But Lisa broke the moment. “Oh, Sofie,” she whispered, her eyes glazing, a question there. Sofie nodded, and Lisa slipped free of the marquis and took Edana from Rachelle. “How beautiful she is!”

Sofie stole a glance at the marquis. He was looking at her hands—she wore no rings. Calmly he lifted his gaze to hers. No expression showed in his eyes.

“Might I introduce my daughter?” Sofie said, hoping her voice was steadier than her sudden case of nerves. “Edana Jacqueline O’Neil.”

Something flickered in his eyes, surprise, perhaps, at her courage, but certainly not admiration. St. Clare left them shortly afterwards, claiming that he had business to attend to. Apparently he would pick up Lisa that night to escort her to a ball.

“I am so glad you are home,” Lisa said eagerly as they retired to a small, cozy parlor used for the family alone. They watched Edana, playing with a rattle on the Persian carpet on the floor. “My engagement ball is next week, when it shall become official, and now you can attend! It would not have been the same, Sofie, if you were not there.”

“Of course I will come,” Sofie said. “Lisa—how long have you known the marquis?”

“We met last spring.” Lisa smiled, her eyes shining. “Sofie—I was enamored right away.”

Sofie could guess why. Hadn’t she fallen for Edward the moment she had first glimpsed him?

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Lisa asked, her eyes shining.

How well Sofie recalled what it was to be in love like that. “He is certainly very handsome. The two of you make a striking couple.”

“Yes, I have been told that before.” Lisa’s smile wavered. “You heard, though, that he was married once before?”

“His wife died?”

“Yes, some time ago. Or so Father has said. The marquis—Julian—refuses to discuss it. I brought it up but once, and, well … he was furious.” Lisa’s gaze, worried now, held Sofie’s. “He said the past is dead and that I must never bring it up again.”

Sofie was somber, afraid that the marquis had loved his first wife—or that he still did. “Perhaps, after you are wed, when you know one another better, he will be able to talk about her.”

“I am counting on it.” Lisa said. She smiled again and reached out and took Sofie’s hand. “Enough about myself. Tell me about life in Paris—and tell me all about Edana.”

Sofie was nursing Edana when Suzanne barged into her bedroom.

It was sometime later. Rachelle had retired to take a nap, fatigued from the journey. Lisa was dressing for her engagement later that evening with the marquis. Sofie and Edana were alone. Sofie was feeling quite overwhelmed, and teetering on the brink of exhaustion herself. Somehow it was disturbing to have her daughter there, in the home she had grown up in, in the bedroom she had had since she was a small child of nine. It seemed wrong. As if something was missing. Which of course, it was. Sofie was not in her own home, but in the home of her parents.

Edward’s recent marriage proposal flashed through her mind.

“Sofie!” Suzanne cried.

Sofie stiffened, twisting to face her mother, who stared wide-eyed at her as if she had never seen a woman nursing a baby before. “Mother.”

“I cannot believe this! What are you doing?” Suzanne did not move, as if afraid to approach.

“Edana is hungry. I am feeding her. I will put her down for the night in a few more minutes.”

“No!” Suzanne cried. “Oh, God! How could you bring the child here! Are you mad?”

Sofie tensed. “Mother, I am not mad. Don’t you wish to meet Edana?”

“No!” Suzanne cried shrilly.

Perspiration gathered along Sofie’s hairline and between her breasts. It was terribly hard to remain calm. “Mother, please. Come here.” Desperation inched its way into her tone. “Come, please, take a look at my daughter. At
your
granddaughter.”

But Suzanne refused to budge. “I told you that you could not bring the child here! And if you had to, you should have told the staff it was the maid’s! Have you lost your mind?”

Sofie’s jaw clamped. She managed to stroke Edana’s downy head, managed to keep her tone calm. But her hand was shaking. “I am not going to tell people that Edana is Rachelle’s.”

“You must!” Now Suzanne paced forward, but halted before she came too close. She kept her eyes averted from Edana. “The staff will remain close-lipped out of loyalty—and fear of instant dismissal without references. Who else knows?”

Sofie began to pant.

“Who else knows?” Suzanne snapped.

“Lisa. And the Marquis of Connaught.”

Suzanne turned white. “You fool!” She sucked in her breath, trembling visibly. “Well, he is family now, so I suppose he can be trusted, too. Sofie, we need only pretend until the adoption.”

Sofie jumped to her feet, hugging Edana, who had lost her hold on her nipple and began to protest. “No.
No.”

Suzanne faced her. “You must.”

“No!” Sofie screamed, shrill.

“Listen to me!” Suzanne screamed back. “It is your life we are discussing. Your life! You will be cast out of society forever if you claim that child—do you hear me? You will never be accepted, not ever! I am protecting you!”

“But what about Edana!” Sofie cried. Edana was wailing now, but Sofie could not comfort her. “What about my baby? What about her life?
I
am her life!”

“You must try to be sensible,” Suzanne cried. “In fact, I have found a wonderful couple in Boston, well-off and highly respectable, who are eager to adopt her. Had you remained in Paris, you would just now be getting my letter. It has been arranged, Sofie. It—”

“Get out!” Sofie screamed. “Get out!” Holding the shrieking baby in one arm, she picked up an ornamental candlestick and threw it at Suzanne. It missed, but it hit the wall behind her with such force that it tore the fabric covering it. “Get out!” Sofie screamed again.