After Innocence (39 page)

But he didn’t buy Suzanne’s story that Sofie was in Boston with relatives, not for a minute. He had only arrived in the city that morning, but his next stop would be the Gallery Durand-Ruel. She damn well would have been in touch with them.

“Mr. Delanza, sir!”

He paused, about to slide his long body into the motorcar. The housekeeper, Mrs. Murdock, came running out of the house. Edward straightened, very alert. “Mrs. Murdock?”

“Yes, sir,” she panted, pausing before him. “If she finds out I’m talking to you, she might very well fire me without references—and I’ve been with her since Sofie was four years old.”

He gripped the elderly lady’s plump arms. “Mrs. Murdock,
if Suzanne dismisses you, you can come work for me.”

Her eyes widened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now, tell me about Sofie.”

Tears filled her eyes. “It’s a lie, it is! There are no relatives in Boston, none at all. You should have been here, sir. Oh, Lord, they were screaming at one another enough to bring the house down. It’s lucky Mr. Ralston wasn’t home.”

“Who was screaming? Suzanne?”

“Suzanne and Sofie! I never heard Sofie scream and shout, she was so angry, not ever, sir!” Mrs. Murdock was crying.

He was grim, but he kept his tone matter-of-fact. “What were they fighting about?”

“They were fighting about the child. It was so horrid! So horrid, sir!”

He sucked in his breath, his heart turning over in a very sickening manner. “What about Edana? Is she all right?”

“The babe is fine, sir. But Mrs. Ralston wants Sofie to give her up to another couple for adoption—and Mrs. Ralston always does as she wants. She and Mr. Ralston have already arranged it. Sofie refused. That was why she was screaming so. She left with the babe and the Frenchwoman right after that, in the night, it was, without hardly a stitch except the clothes on their backs! And I don’t think they have any money—because they were a ragged lot, they were, when they arrived.”

Adrenaline flooded his body, tension quivered within him, but his tone was calm, flat. “Where did they go?” Edward asked, fighting down a horrible image of Sofie clutching Edana on a street corner, like any common vagrant.

“I don’t know!” Mrs. Murdock wailed. “If only I knew!”

Edward patted her. “It will be all right. I will find her, you can be sure of that.”

Mrs. Murdock gazed up at him, both beseeching and eager. “Yes, sir, I know you will. But please, do it fast. Before something awful happens!”

“If you hear from her, you can reach me at the Savoy.”

Mrs. Murdock nodded.

Edward thanked her and hurried to the Daimler, the
composed facade he had struggled to maintain vanishing instantly. His heart felt like it was wedged in his throat. He was trembling, out of breath. God! He wanted to kill Suzanne with his own bare hands for chasing Sofie out into the street with Edana. Mrs. Murdock was afraid that something awful would happen. Edward was afraid, too. There were dozens of gruesome possibilities. The city was no place for a young woman to be alone with a small baby, especially without means. Edward knew that he must find Sofie and end this madness once and for all. Find Sofie and rescue her. Apparently he would play the champion one more time—but this time, her future was also his.

S
ofie was nervous and had been that way all day, in anticipation of her meeting with Henry Marten. Henry saw her standing outside the thick glass door of his office and he came forward before she could knock. He smiled at her. “Right on time, I see. Why don’t we walk in the square? It’s a beautiful afternoon.”

Sofie nodded, trying to guess whether he was bearing good or bad tidings, but it was impossible to tell from his benign expression. He held her elbow as they went back downstairs. Outside, the sun was bright, the trees mostly bare, red and gold leaves swirling across the sidewalk. The air felt cool and crisp.

Henry did not release her arm as they strolled down the street. “I spoke with Suzanne, and I am in agreement with you. A reconciliation is unlikely unless you compromise with her.”

Sofie shot a worried glance at Henry. “What did she say?”

He hesitated. “She said she is withholding your money until you come home … alone.”

Sofie flinched. A pink color had suffused Henry’s face. Dismay filled her. She knew he did not understand. But what did he comprehend from Suzanne’s words? And should she tell him the truth about why she was so desperate for funds? It would be a relief to share her predicament—and all of her worries—with him. But he might very well be appalled. Sofie was afraid to risk losing his friendship. “Can she do that? Withhold my money from me?”

Henry sighed. “I attained copies of the trust contracts from her lawyer. And the answer is yes. It is not proper,
nor is it ethical, but technically she can withhold the funds. We do have a recourse. But it is not timely. We can sue her personally, or we can appeal to the courts to have a new trustee appointed in her stead.”

Sofie halted and faced Henry, aghast. “I cannot believe this! I must sue my own mother? Or go to court to have her removed as trustee? This is horrible. A nightmare!”

“It is not pleasant,” Henry agreed, regarding her closely.

Sofie felt hysteria rising up in her. And anger. Some of the hurt over her mother’s betrayal had been diminishing these past few days. In its place was a seeping rage at the callous cruelty and injustice of her behavior. “I have savings in France. Unfortunately I left in such haste that I did not receive any letters from my bank. I am having those savings transferred here, but without those letters, it will take four to six weeks.” Her voice trembled. She was so worried about the future that she could barely sleep at night. She had never been more tired. She needed someone to lean on other than Rachelle.

Especially because, as every day passed, the probability of Edward’s arriving in the city increased.

Sofie fought for control, aware of Henry’s probing gaze. “In another few weeks Durand-Ruel is holding an exhibition for me. If I am lucky, it will be a success. Much of the work he is showing, he already owns, but several new works will be sold on commission. I think Paul will agree to advance me funds in any case against future work and future sales. I will ask him immediately.” The gallery was only some dozen blocks away, and she was ready to run there on foot right now.

Henry plucked her sleeve. “Sofie, wait. You are distressed. Are you sure you cannot go home? Perhaps if I intervene—”

“No!” she cried vehemently, startling them both.

Henry dropped his hand from her arm.

She squared her shoulders, trembling. “Henry, you do not understand why I cannot go home alone.”

“No. I do not understand.”

Sofie swallowed, feeling shaky and faint. “I cannot go
home because Suzanne wants me to give up my daughter for adoption.”

Henry gasped.

Sofie dared to meet his shocked gaze. “Yes, I have a child. An illegitimate child—a little girl named Edana Jacqueline O’Neil whom I love with all my heart.”

“Dear God,” Henry said. And then his face flushed with anger. His gaze became wide with comprehension. “Delanza? Is he the father? The bastard!”

Sofie cried out, gripping his wrist. “Please. I cannot tell you who Edana’s father is, I cannot!” But she knew he knew that it could not have been anybody else. And she realized that his reaction would be typical of the rest of society once Edana’s existence became public knowledge.

Henry nodded, mouth tight, shoulders stiff and rigid. “I understand.”

“How can you? When I am not sure that I do?” Sofie asked, almost in a whisper. She had not thought it out yet. There was too much on her mind for her to consider the ramifications of revealing who Edana’s father was to the world at large. It would be for the best, she knew, to reach an agreement with Edward first on whether they would make public the fact of his paternity. Yet such a discussion could not take place when she was hiding from him. Sofie faced Henry, feeling lost, alone, overwhelmed. “Henry, I love her. I am not going to give her up. No compromise is possible on my part. I am furious with my mother—I am not going back.”

“Now I finally understand,” Henry said slowly.

She looked at him, searching for signs of revulsion and condemnation, but she only saw sorrow. “You are shocked, and rightfully so. But … you will still represent me?”

“Sofie, I am your friend. Of course I will continue to represent you—and help you in any way that I can.”

Sofie stared at him in mute gratitude.

Henry handed her a handkerchief.

Sofie wiped her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”

He took her arm and they walked again, this time in silence. After another block they entered Union Square.
Henry led her to a deserted park bench, where they both sat down, scattering pigeons. He shifted to face her, their knees touching. He coughed.

Sofie clenched the wadded-up handkerchief. “I am sure Paul will advance me funds,” she said, as desperate as she was hopeful.

“I will not let you starve, Sofie. Don’t you know that?”

“You are so kind,” she whispered.

“It is more than kindness.” He appeared ill at ease. “Don’t you know that by now?”

She became utterly still.

He was red of face. “I am very fond of you, Sofie.”

Sofie stared, shocked.

He seemed to feel that he owed her an explanation. “You know, two summers ago, I came to Newport Beach to meet you—for all the wrong reasons. But now I am motivated by the right reasons.

“I hoped to marry you then. I was encouraged by my aunt because of your inheritance. But when I met you I found you both fetching and fascinating. Even though your mother did succeed in putting me off, at first.”

Sofie stared. “She … did?”

“She did. She was very discouraging. Still, you are one of the most sincere, kindest women I have ever known—and the bravest, too. I would like to marry you, Sofie. Not for the wrong reasons—but for the right reasons.” He was beet red. “I have been fond of you for a long time. More than fond, actually. You should not be so surprised.”

“Henry … I did not know.”

“I know. You only had eyes for him.”

Sofie said nothing, for he was right. She thought about Edward, filled with anguish. She wondered if this would be her only chance for love.

Henry said, low, “I have never said such things to a woman before. I cannot bear to see you suffer like this. You should not be alone. You need a husband, and your daughter needs a father.”

Sofie shook herself free of Edward’s image with vast effort. She took his hands in hers. “I don’t know what to say. I am moved beyond words.”

“Say yes. Would you become my wife, Sofie? I know I have not met Edana, but I would be a good father. I would never hold the past against her—or against you.”

Instinctively Sofie knew that Henry would be a good father—and that he would be a good husband, too. He would be loyal, kind, affectionate, and faithful. She closed her eyes, stabbed with both grief and longing. How could she marry him when she loved another? Yet she yearned for a home of her own, for a man to love, for a man to love her. “I am overwhelmed by your offer. Henry, please, I need some time.”

Gravely he nodded.

Sofie could not miss Lisa’s engagement party. She had not returned to the house since the day she had seen Benjamin and fled when she realized he also approved of Suzanne’s plans. She had been so immersed in her own problems and in taking care of Edana this past week that she had hardly spared her sister a thought. Lisa must be on pins and needles, Sofie thought.

The afternoon before the ball, Sofie dared to go home, leaving Edana with Rachelle at the hotel. She chose her time carefully. Suzanne dined out every afternoon with other ladies, and Sofie was counting on that fact. She had no wish to even see her mother, much less engage in another heated battle.

Sofie found Lisa in her bathtub covered with Saratoga mud. “Hello, Lisa. I have come to borrow a gown for the ball tomorrow.”

“Sofie!”

Sofie had to smile at the sight her sister made. Only her eyes and mouth were visible. The mud was black and it was a sight both comical and gruesome. She sat down on a footstool. “Does that mud really improve one’s skin?”

Lisa was sitting up. “Where have you been? Oh, God! I have been so worried about you and the baby!” She began to cry.

Sofie sank down on her knees beside Lisa, and gingerly patted her muddy back. “I am fine. Really.”

Lisa gulped down her sobs. “Your mother is a witch—and
so is my father. How could they be so cruel to you?”

“They are only doing what they believe to be best,” Sofie said.

“You are defending them?”

“No.” Sofie sighed.

“Are you both all right?” Lisa asked, gripping the sides of the claw-footed tub.

“Yes. We are making do. Suzanne has cut off my funds, but Henry Marten has lent me money—and so did Paul Durand-Ruel.” Sofie had seen him immediately after receiving Henry Marten’s shocking offer of matrimony. He had been sympathetic to her plight and more than willing to help.

“I know,” Lisa said. “Sofie, you are almost all they talk about.”

Sofie did not like the sound of that.

“When I get my next allowance, you can have that, too,” Lisa said firmly. “So you plan to come tonight after all?”

“I would not miss your engagement ball for anything, Lisa, and thank you,” Sofie said, smiling ruefully. “I guess I am not quite as alone as I feared. Everyone has rallied to my side in this small crisis.”

“Sofie—you are not alone!” Lisa was fierce. “When Julian and I wed in May, you and Edana can come live with us.”

Sofie was stunned by the magnitude of the offer. “Lisa, surely you do not want your sister and niece underfoot as you begin your married life.”

“Yes, I do.” She was stubborn.

“And the marquis?”

“He will be as eager as I am, I am sure of it.”

Sofie doubted it. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was the passion that could be had between lovers on a honeymoon. The marquis would not appreciate company. “And how is your illustrious bridegroom?”