“Well then, he was alive but then he died.” Arguing over the semantics cut her to the core.
“No. He was taken away. To the Foundling Asylum on Lexington and Sixty-Eighth.”
The room spun and Sara held hard to the wooden countertop to keep herself upright. “He was alive? Why was I not told the truth?”
“They never do, as a rule. No point in driving the nutters madder than they already are. Easier this way, I guess.”
During the ride across the river, Sara keened on the hard bench, wishing the ferry would speed faster. So much time had already passed. Would he still be there? Was he still alive? She didn’t know what she’d do once she found him, how to prove that the child was hers. Would they just give him to her, hand him over? She moaned and the other passengers stared. The boy must have suffered so, without his mother. Her baby was alive. Her thoughts wound around each other like a dust storm.
More waiting, more sitting. The nurse in the Foundling Asylum was no kinder than the one on Blackwell’s Island. They must turn brittle fast, in order to stay inured to the cries of the babies and children that echoed down the stairwell.
A form was thrust at her on a clipboard. The words swum for a moment before she focused, reading them softly out loud. The boy had been taken in by a family, just as Sara was released from Blackwell’s.
She recognized the signature on the document. The same that she’d seen scrawled on countless letters and contracts.
Theo had known all along.
Christopher was her son.
“Where is he?”
Sara tore down the long gallery of Theo’s apartment. Her first priority was Christopher, getting him out of Theo’s hands, taking him somewhere safe. She’d had plenty of time to figure out a plan on the ferry and cab ride back to the Dakota. First off, she’d head with Christopher to the offices of the New York World and tell Nellie everything. Nellie would protect them and provide them with safe shelter until Sara could arrange to sail back to England. Only an ocean between herself and Theo would do to put her mind at ease.
She’d planned on appearing calm, offering to take Christopher for a walk in the park, then absconding with him, but as she grew closer to the Dakota, panic gripped her. Once inside the apartment, the memories of everything Theo had said and done to her flooded back. The evening after the ball, the picnic. The betrayal.
Mrs. Camden stepped out of the children’s room, the three children scampering behind her. She saw the look on Sara’s face and turned around. “Off you go, children. Play in the parlor, please.”
The children trotted away quietly, no doubt tuned into the strange vibrations that Sara was giving off.
Sara barged into the nursery, Mrs. Camden close behind. Christopher was in his crib, asleep.
“Where is Theo?” Sara said.
“He’s due back any minute. You seem upset. Let’s sit down and have a cup of tea.”
Sara wanted to throttle her. “You knew. You were raising my son and you knew it, didn’t you? How did he get you to agree?”
Mrs. Camden didn’t answer, but a tremble went through her body.
“Why would you do such a thing? Don’t you have any shame?”
“He said I owed it to him.”
“‘Owed it to him’? You’re as mad as he. He took my child. I want him back.”
“He’ll never let you do that.”
A child’s wail pierced the standoff.
“Luther?”
Mrs. Camden ran to the library and this time Sara followed. Luther sat at Theo’s desk, staring down at his open palm.
“My God, what’s happened?” cried Mrs. Camden.
Sara took the boy’s hand in her own. It was unblemished, other than a small pinprick.
Mrs. Camden knelt down. “There, there.”
As the child’s cries died down to a dull whimper, Sara looked around to find what had caused the injury. She reached down to pick up a letter opener that had fallen from the desk, and gasped.
It was a knife, a sharp one with a curved blade. She’d seen it before.
In the Rutherfords’ library.
“Where did you get this?” she asked Luther.
He pointed to an open drawer.
“Father usually keeps that locked,” said Mrs. Camden. “How did you get into it?”
“I found the key in the top drawer,” he mumbled. “I wanted to see if it fit. Then I saw the toy.”
“My dear boy, you could have cut yourself terribly.” Mrs. Camden took the knife from Sara and examined it. “This is no toy. What on earth was it doing in Theo’s desk?”
Sara imagined Theo slipping it into his pocket at the ball, while he distracted her with his touch. Taking whatever shiny object he wanted. Just because he could. Angry at the men’s dismissive insults about poor street children, wanting to strike back. Feeling that everyone else owed him something.
The front door opened.
Theo.
He stopped and surveyed the scene before him. “What on earth is going on?” He spoke cheerily, in a good mood.
Sara straightened. With the knowledge of the knife, she had leverage. She could threaten to turn him in if he didn’t let her leave with Christopher.
“Luther almost cut himself playing with this knife from your desk.” Mrs. Camden spoke with a harshness that Sara had never heard before.
“I told the boy not to play in here. Is he all right?”
“Luther, take your sisters and go to the nursery,” ordered Mrs. Camden. “Shut the door.”
The child scrambled away, calling out to Emily and Lula as he did.
Theo patted Luther on the head as he ran by. “He seems fine. I’m sure there’s no harm done.”
Sara pointed to the knife in Mrs. Camden’s hand. “What was that doing in your desk?”
For the first time since he’d arrived, Theo seemed off balance. “Right. It’s a keepsake, from an important night that I wanted to remember.” He gave her a pointed look.
“It’s the Rutherfords’ knife.” Sara stood tall, firm, even though inside she was terrified. His audacity astonished her. “You stole it.”
Mrs. Camden looked like she was about to pull her own hair out. She turned to Sara. “What are you talking about?”
“We went to a ball. Together, the night before you arrived from England. I saw this knife there. It’s part of the Rutherfords’ collection.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Theo dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “It’s not that at all.”
She ignored his lies. “That’s not the least you’ve done, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I spoke with Daisy. She told me she tried to blackmail you. Got me sent away. Then you took my child.” Her breath came haltingly. She couldn’t speak any more than a few words at a time, and her emotions threatened to overpower her.
“You saw Daisy? In prison?” Theo took a step forward, then stopped. “I don’t know what to say. The girl’s a crook.”
“She told me everything.”
His shoulders sagged and he seemed more like a boy about to be reprimanded than a grown man. All bluster was gone. “I made a terrible mistake.”
“Yes, I remember you saying that. The day on the harbor. I didn’t understand at the time. How could you do such a thing?”
He avoided his wife’s gaze, directing his words at Sara. “When Daisy told me that you were with child, I knew that everything might come crashing down. My business, my reputation. She said she would take care of it, and I thought that meant she’d bring you to a doctor.”
“She tried,” said Sara. “You were a coward, trying to protect yourself.”
He pressed on. “But then there was that business with the necklace. I didn’t know what to think, until Mr. Douglas informed me that you’d decided to go back to England voluntarily. At the time, I thought that was best, for all of us.”
Sara shook her head. “Why would he lie to you?”