“Harvey!” he called into the void. A horse knickered, but no one else responded.
Frank’s nerves tingled as his body prepared instinctively for whatever he encountered. “Harvey!” he tried again, making his way farther into the stable. He glanced into each stall as he passed, seeing nothing amiss. Everything was as it should be except for the oppressive silence that seemed to muffle even his own footsteps. The little mare that Alicia had ridden peeked out at him, blinking her sad, brown eyes. A bay gelding stamped his hoof in the next stall but offered Frank no comment as he walked by.
One by one, he passed each stall until he came to the last one, and that’s where he found Harvey, hanging by his neck from the rafter.
SARAH SHOULD HAVE expected her mother to be entertaining at this time of the day, but she never would have imagined the scene she encountered. The maid hadn’t seemed surprised to see her this time and conducted her to the dining room without even being asked. When she saw who was there, she realized the girl must have simply thought she was another invited guest to the elaborate formal tea party her mother was hosting.
The group of ladies sitting around her mother’s enormous table represented some of the oldest families in New York, and all of them had known Sarah since she was a babe. If that wasn’t bad enough, she saw Mrs. Astor-Mrs. William Backhouse Astor, Jr., matriarch of the Astor clan and designated as “the” Mrs. Astor to distinguish her from the less important Mrs. Astors in the family.
Every instinct warned her to flee, but it was already too late. She was well and truly caught, and couldn’t leave without embarrassing her mother.
“Sarah, dear, what a surprise,” Mrs. Decker said, hurrying to meet her. She did her best to conceal her shock, but only partially succeeded.
“Sarah, is that you?” Mrs. Astor asked. “How delightful to see you! Elizabeth didn’t tell us you were coming.”
“She didn’t know,” Sarah said, smiling as graciously as she could while grinding her teeth in frustration. She needed to speak to her mother alone, not spend hours in meaningless small talk with a group of ladies whose interests were limited to the weather and the foibles of their neighbors.
By then, her mother had reached her and was staring at her anxiously, obviously sensing her agitation. “What is it, dear?” she asked in a near whisper. “Has something happened?”
“No, nothing,” she assured her just as quietly. “I just needed your advice on something.”
Her mother’s lovely eyes lit with surprise and pleasure, but she kept her voice even when she said, “Won’t you join us for tea? I think you know everyone.” Sending Sarah a silent apology that reminded her that her family’s lives were still bound by strict social conventions, her mother reminded her of everyone’s name as the maids brought another chair and laid a place for her with the gold-edged china.
“Tea” was really a meal, served with pomp and ceremony on the best china and silver. The tea itself was poured from a large silver pot into dainty white and gold dinner teacups. Trays of sliced cold chicken garnished with nasturtium leaves, daintily cut slices of ham, and strips of tongue were passed. The bread was cut in thin strips and already buttered. Around the table stood small silver pots of preserves of strawberry and gooseberry and orange marmalade and honey in the comb. Silver baskets covered with lace held slices of golden sponge cake and rich, dark fruitcake, and on another silver tray stood Dresden china cups filled with custard and garnished with a generous amount of grated nutmeg.
Sarah managed to sample each treat as it went by her, but she really wasn’t hungry. She just wanted all these people to be gone. Sarah was seated too far from her mother to even whisper anything about the purpose of her visit, but her mother knew what she was concerned about these days.
After Mrs. Astor had held forth on the advisability of traveling abroad so early in the season-an inordinate number of icebergs had been spotted recently in the North Atlantic in spite of the unseasonably warm weather-Mrs. Decker brought up the subject nearest to Sarah’s heart.
“What a tragedy about the youngest VanDamm girl,” she remarked with creditable nonchalance.
“Oh, yes,” said one of the other ladies. “I heard Francisca is prostrate with grief.”
“She’s been prostrate with something for the past ten years,” Mrs. Astor said. “And I suppose anyone would expire if her parents were going to marry her off to Sylvester Mattingly.”
“It’s true then?” Sarah couldn’t help asking. “They really intended such a match?”
“Oh, I heard the same thing,” someone else offered. “Although I could hardly believe it. If they were in a hurry to marry her off, they should have sent her to England. My son-in-law, Lord Harpster has several quite eligible kinsmen who would be happy to make the acquaintance of an American heiress.”
“Where she could buy herself a penniless nobleman?” another woman scoffed.
While the women debated the merits of marrying off wealthy American girls to poverty-stricken English noble-men just to have a titled lady in the family-a practice that had become so widespread it had a name: Anglo-mania, Sarah considered what she had heard. Apparently, her mother was correct. The VanDamms really had considered marrying their daughter to the elderly attorney, and no one could quite understand why.
After what seemed an eternity of clanking silver and china and meaningless conversation, her mother’s guests were finally forced to take their leave, albeit reluctantly. They obviously sensed Sarah had come for something important and were hoping to catch at least a hint of what that might be. In spite of their best efforts to draw her out, they left disappointed.
When the last guest had gone, Sarah’s mother took her into the parlor, slid the pocket doors closed and turned to face her. “Now tell me what’s happened. Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“I’m not really sure, Mother,” she said as her mother sat down beside her on the sofa and took her hand. “I heard something today that upset me, and I’m wondering if it might be true.”
“Something about our family…?” she asked with a worried frown.
“Oh, no, of course not,” she assured her hastily, and for a second wondered if her mother knew of something she might have heard. “It’s about Alicia VanDamm.”
Her mother frowned in disapproval. “Oh, my, I was afraid you’d still be worrying yourself about that.”
“I noticed you managed to confirm that rumor about Mattingly for me. Thank you.”
Her mother frowned. “I’m not sure I should be encouraging you in this, and I’m sure I shouldn’t be helping you, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Now tell me, what have you learned?”
“I went to see Mrs. VanDamm today.”
Her mother didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “She received you? You heard Mrs. Astor, Francisca VanDamm hasn’t been out of her bedroom in a decade!”
“She didn’t come out today, either. I think she agreed to see me because I’m a midwife, and she wanted some medical advice.”
“She can’t think she’s with child!” her mother exclaimed. “She’s much too old for such a thing!”
“Of course she is, but she thought I might be able to advise her on her various ailments, so she allowed me to see her. And while I was there, she told me something very disturbing. She said she hasn’t had marital relations with her husband since Mina was born.”
Her mother gaped at her, as shocked as if Sarah had slapped her, and for a moment she didn’t even breathe. Finally, she managed to gasp, “Sarah, really, I can’t believe-”
“Oh, mother, don’t be prudish,” Sarah said, impatient as her mother’s attempt at maidenly modesty. “I deliver babies for a living. Do you think I don’t know how they get made?”