After Innocence (37 page)

Suzanne was frozen, afraid.

Sofie was weeping, and filled with murderous fury.

Suzanne turned and fled.

“Sofie?”

Sofie cuddled Edana, choking on her sobs. She looked up at Rachelle, who had entered her bedroom from the adjoining door. “We are leaving.”

“Surely she would not insist—despite your feelings.”

Sofie pursed her lips, broken of heart. “Yes.” She began to cry again. “She would not even look at her. Not once. We must leave. Immediately!”

Rachelle nodded. She was as pale as any ethereal spirit. But then, so was Sofie. Only Edana was oblivious, for she had fallen asleep.

Sofie stared out of the hotel window. Dawn had grayed the city. But the streets were far from deserted on the avenue below. Milkmen and greengrocers drove their wagons by. Two homeless vagrants slept in the doorway across the street. A newspaper boy hurried past on a bicycle, and two policemen mounted on splendid bays trotted on down the block. A dog began to bark from somewhere not too far away.

Sofie had not been able to sleep. The horrible argument with her mother replayed again and again in her mind. She had never dreamed that Suzanne still thought she must give
up Edana for adoption. Sofie felt the bitter pain of betrayal; worse, she was afraid.

Every instinct she possessed was far more acute now that she was a mother. She would defend her daughter to the death, if need be. She knew it would not come to that, but her senses shrieked at her, warning her that she had just escaped an impossible fate. Sofie knew she could not survive if separated from Edana.

Losing one love had been enough to last her an entire lifetime. She could not lose Edana, too.

Sofie shuddered, pressing her nose to the cold pane of glass. Where was Edward even now? She had little doubt he was on his way to New York. If only she could marry him—if only he loved her. Then Sofie knew she could withstand the pain of Suzanne’s heartless convictions, of her terrible betrayal.

But it was not to be. Sofie felt like some wild animal, caught in a corner, about to be trapped. It was almost incomprehensible, but Suzanne had turned into her enemy, and Edward was the enemy, as well. Sofie knew he would seek her out in New York. And even though her motivations in running from him were honest enough, he had every right. He
was
Edana’s father. Sofie knew she must prepare herself for the upcoming battle. She must prepare herself to dissuade him from his intention to marry her and give Edana his name.

And suddenly Sofie wondered if she was doing the right thing, and if so, if she even had the strength to fight him now, too. She had never expected to return to New York and find herself as homeless as an orphan. She had expected to find a haven of love and support. And Edana deserved a father; more important, she did not deserve to be stigmatized for the rest of her life as a bastard. And if Edward were her husband, Suzanne would have to accept Edana.

But, dear God, Sofie knew she would wither up and die inside herself if she married Edward under these circumstances. Every time he returned from time spent with another woman, she would suffer untold, endless agony. Every day spent together masquerading as man and wife would be
as painful as the blade of a knife twisting inside her flesh.

Sofie did not know what to do.

How could she fight Edward on the one hand, and Suzanne on the other? As horrible as Suzanne had become, she believed she was doing what was right. Sofie could not remember ever winning a battle with her mother when her mother had been convinced that she was right. This time she must win. But she was already so tired, and the battle had hardly begun. On either front.

Rachelle stirred and sat up. “Sofie? Have you not slept at all?”

Sofie looked over at the room’s one big bed, which they were all three sharing. “No.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rachelle said. Then, “What are we going to do?”

Sofie was grim. “I think I had best talk to Benjamin. Surely he does not agree with my mother. Perhaps he can make her see reason.”

Rachelle flushed with anger. “I am surprised you would even go back there.”

Sofie regarded Rachelle. careful to keep her voice steady as she revealed yet another cause for worry. “I must. We are very low on funds, Rachelle.”

Benjamin closed the door behind them. Sofie found herself nervous, especially as he had barred Suzanne from joining them. He sat down behind his desk. Sofie sank into a leather chair in front of him, gripping both smooth arms. Suzanne had given her a dark look filled with dire warning. Sofie understood. It meant that Sofie had better come to her senses and give in to her mother, fast.

Some of yesterday’s shock and grief was fading. In its place was anger.

“Suzanne told me what happened. I think it was rash of you to leave in the manner which you did.”

Sofie nodded stiffly.

“Suzanne wished to be present, but she is so distraught right now that I thought it best we proceed alone. And immediately.”

Sofie nodded again.

“I think I understand how difficult this is for you. It cannot be easy to be an unwed mother at your age.” His brown eyes were direct, and not unkind. “I thought that, when you left New York last year, you and your mother had agreed that adoption was best.”

Sofie inhaled. “We never agreed upon any such thing! I refused then—just as I refuse now!” Sofie was standing, wide-eyed, shaking. She was also feeling faint. She had nursed Edana last night and that morning, but had not eaten a single thing.

He raised a brow. “I did not realize. Sofie, dear, you cannot possibly exist as an unwed mother in New York City. No one will even speak to you when you pass on the street. You will be an outcast. A social pariah.”

“I was a social pariah before.”

Benjamin also stood. “You were hardly a social pariah, my dear. Had you been interested in a come-out, it would have been arranged and you would have been deluged with offers, I have no doubt. You can still find a husband—you are only twenty-one. I will be glad to help. But you will never marry if word of this gets out.”

“I do not want to marry!” Sofie cried, but it was a heartbreaking lie. “I intend to devote myself to my daughter and my profession.”

For a moment he stared at her as if she were an alien creature the likes of which he had never seen before. “I am not only thinking of what is in your best interest—but of the child’s as well. Can you not see that it would be better for Edana to grow up as the daughter of a married couple? I can assure you that we have met the couple, and that they are eminently suitable. As a matter of fact, the wife is barren and desperate for a child. She is already in love with your baby.”

Sofie was rooted to the spot. Horrific images afflicted her. A young woman, incapable of bearing her own child, crying into her pillow, filled with yearning, praying to be able to adopt a baby. A faceless husband, also suffering, sharing his wife’s grief. A beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood. And then she saw Edana there with them. Sofie could not bear it.

She turned and ran.

“Sofie!” Benjamin cried. “Wait, please!”

Sofie stumbled down the corridor. Mrs. Murdock tried to speak with her, but Sofie did not stop. Jenson said something also, his tone frank with concern, but Sofie did not really hear. Suzanne came running after her, screaming at her, at once angry and demanding, hysterical and panicked. The hansom she had hired with the last of her precious pocket money was waiting, and Sofie leapt into it. She banged on the door, signaling the driver. Repeatedly. The carriage rumbled down the driveway. Sofie slumped in her seat.

Sofie could not return to the hotel without having solved their current dilemma. Which was money.

She had saved two thousand francs in France, but they had not been able to wait for the banks to open in order to withdraw the funds before leaving, and they had traveled on the cash they kept in the house. Two thousand francs, in any case, was not enough to get by on for very long—not when the support of three people was involved. Normally Sofie received her allowance from Suzanne quarterly, and it came from the trust left to her by her father. The next installment was due on December first. Sofie was afraid that Suzanne might try to withhold the money in order to bend her to her will.

She must find out immediately. She must also find out what her recourse was should this be the case. Surely, as the trust belonged to her, in this unusual situation Suzanne could be bypassed. Sofie decided that she needed a lawyer—and she needed one who would not charge her for his intervention in advance.

Henry Marten’s kind image flashed through her mind.

Hope swelled in Sofie’s breast. She knew he would help her. She recalled that his new office had been just off of Union Square. She had never been there, but she remembered noting the fact when she had idly perused the calling card he had left with her the day he had invited her to ride in the park. Sofie instructed the driver to go downtown.

About an hour later, Sofie found his office purely by chance on Twenty-third Street, a few blocks from the square, when she had just about given up. It was on the upper floor of a two-story false-fronted older brick building above a merchandiser of men’s clothing. Sofie cried out, the hansom stopped, and she got out. She let the cabbie go, because he made it clear that he was going to charge her extra for the past hour, and she did not have enough to pay him very much more.

Sofie prayed that Henry was in. She hurried up the narrow stairs and paused outside a heavy glass door, catching her breath. She was exhausted. Inside, Henry sat behind a desk, immersed in a folder of some sort. Her heart moved into her throat. Sofie knocked on the rippled glass.

Henry looked up, mouth open to call “enter,” but he did not speak. Eyes wide, he rose to his feet. Then he smiled, at first unsurely, but it quickly expanded. He opened the door. “Sofie! I mean—Miss O’Neill What a surprise—do come in!”

Sofie shook in relief—he was actually pleased to see her. “Hello, Mr. Marten. I hope I am not calling at an inconvenient time.”

“Not at all!” He guided her inside and pulled up a chair for her. His gaze was warm as it swept over her face. “I had no idea you were back from France. Are your studies finished, then?”

Sofie sat down, clasping her hands in her lap so he would not see them shake. “I hope that my study of art will never be finished.”

He was somewhat chagrined. “May I offer you some coffee? I can make a fresh pot.” In the back of the room there was a small sink and an iron stove.

Sofie shook her head “no”. Henry regarded her more intently and walked around his desk to sit behind it. He pushed the clutter aside, clearing a space in front of him. “Is this business, Miss O’Neil?”

Sofie wet her lips. “Oh, Mr. Marten, I am afraid so,” she cried, losing her firm grip on her composure.

“What is wrong, Sofie? May I call you Sofie?”

She nodded, pulling a handkerchief from her reticule. She dabbed at her eyes. Henry was so kind. She tried to remember why she had not gone riding with him that day in Central Park. Of course. Edward had come to model for her.
Edward. If only …
“Henry, I am in some difficulty.”

He waited, his mien lawyerly now, listening.

“I am without funds and stranded in the city. I have had a severe falling out with my mother and her husband.” Sofie met his gaze. “I receive a quarterly allowance from Suzanne, but it comes from a trust left to me by my father. I am afraid my next allowance will not be forthcoming. I am afraid Suzanne will not send it.”

“When is it due?”

“On December first.”

“And how much is due?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Is your mother the executrix of the trust?”

“Yes.” Sofie said.

“When does control of the trust turn to you, Sofie?” He was taking notes.

“When I am twenty-five. Or if I marry.”

“How old are you?” He did not blush. “That is a professional question, of course.”

“Of course. I am twenty-one. I will be twenty-two in May.”

“I see. Is there any chance of a reconciliation between you and your family?”

“I do not think so.”

“Perhaps with the intervention of a third party?”

“It is unlikely,” Sofie said.

Henry nodded. “Well, I believe I can answer your questions in a day or two.”

Sofie leaned forward. “That would be wonderful.” She hesitated. “Henry—can you wait for payment of your fee until I receive the monies owed me?” Her voice caught. “I am without funds at the moment.”

“Sofie, I am not going to charge you at all for something like this,” he said, and now he blushed. “You are my friend.”

Sofie wanted to cry. She sniffled a little instead. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Henry hesitated. “Sofie, is anything else wrong?”

Sofie swallowed, thinking about Edana, who was hungry by now. Rachelle would feed her cow’s milk from a bottle. Edana had yet to become accustomed to the idea. Sofie knew she must get home to nurse her. And for the first time that day, her own stomach clenched with hunger pangs. But she did not have more than a few dollars left, just enough for a meal or two for her and Rachelle. How was she going to survive three weeks like this until the first of December?

“Sofie.” Henry was watching her too closely. “Can I lend you some funds? Until you are back on your feet?”

Sofie hesitated. “Perhaps, in another day or two, I might need to borrow something.” She was breathing a bit unevenly. He had no idea that she had two other mouths to feed. Would he be this kind if he knew she was providing for her illegitimate daughter?

Henry stood, reaching into his breast pocket. “Here.” He came around his desk, shoving the bills into her hand. “Please. Take this. You look very tired. I am afraid you will become ill if you continue to worry as you seem to be doing.”

Sofie managed a smile. “You are so kind.”

He was frozen. Then, “How can I not be kind to you, Sofie?”

“M
adam, you have a caller.”

Suzanne was not in the mood for callers. She was tired from not having slept at all last night, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She knew she did not look very well. “Whoever it is, Jenson, send them away.”