“Hard to imagine.”
From deeper in the park came the sound of a woman’s laugh, high-pitched and less than sober. It roused them both out of their thoughts.
“So tomorrow we’ll go to the Foundling, and then while I’m away you’ll figure out what you want.” He pressed his thumb to her mouth before she could say anything. “I already know what I want, Savard. I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”
15
THE ENGAGEMENT ANNOUNCEMENT in Sunday morning’s paper took up a full third of the Society News column, ten copies of which were on the breakfast table, arranged by Mrs. Lee before anyone had gotten out of bed. Breakfast itself was delayed for a half hour while each of them studied what Cap had written. Lia sat on Margaret’s lap, and Rosa sat between Anna and Sophie, her concentration drifting away, her face creased with worry. If Margaret was right about nothing else, Anna knew, it was important that the girls had no doubt about their place in the household.
Aunt Quinlan and Margaret agreed that the whole piece was well done. Margaret was more settled this morning, a fact that followed, Anna believed, from the invitation that had arrived by messenger at nine o’clock exactly. The family was invited to take dinner and spend the afternoon and evening on Park Place to celebrate the engagement.
Anna did not doubt for a moment that Cap had anticipated Margaret’s objections, and that this was his countermeasure.
Margaret was going over the announcement again. “The wording is perfect,” she admitted. “But then I’d expect nothing less from a lawyer of Cap’s standing.”
Peter Belmont Verhoeven, Esq., son of the deceased Anton Verhoeven and Clarinda Belmont Verhoeven, is pleased to announce his engagement to be married to Dr. Sophie élodie Savard, a graduate of the Woman’s Medical School of the New York Infirmary for Women and Children and a native of New Orleans. The wedding will take place in the later part of May. Because Mr. Verhoeven has been in ill health, he and his affianced request that no parties or receptions be planned or proposed.
“This won’t keep people from calling,” Aunt Quinlan said. “This afternoon there will be a steady river of people to present their cards. But we won’t be here to be bothered. Very clever of Cap to arrange things this way.”
“He is entirely too clever,” Sophie agreed with a grim smile.
“Some of his old spirit is resurfacing,” Anna observed.
Sophie said, “Oh, yes. The dry humor he uses to such devastating effect is already showing itself. I think he will have more than one surprise waiting for us this afternoon, but I have an appointment at the New Amsterdam at eleven that I can’t miss.”
It was decided that Sophie would meet with the younger Sam Reason as arranged and join them at Cap’s at noon, while Anna would stay for dinner and then leave straightaway for her appointment at the Foundling with Jack Mezzanotte. As soon as the words were said Anna wished she had not spoken at all, because Rosa was suddenly brimming with tension.
She looked at Anna with a question written so plainly on her face, it was impossible to pretend not to see it.
“We hope for the best,” she told Rosa. “But even if there’s no word at the Foundling, we are far from exhausting all possibilities.”
Margaret was frowning at her; Anna was quite aware of that without looking up. Lia had taken note of the change in the mood around the table, and she climbed down from Margaret’s lap to stand beside her sister.
Aunt Quinlan said, “Come girls, come to me. We have some things to talk about before you get ready for the party. I need to know if you are willing to help me with the wedding preparations. And there’s the matter of wedding cake to discuss.”
? ? ?
AT TEN SOPHIE knocked on Sister Xavier’s door and was summoned in with a gruff “Ave.”
The charge nurse warned her that the older nun was recovering quickly both physically and mentally. The return of her taciturn disposition was a solid indication of improvement.
Sister Xavier sat propped up in bed surrounded by newspapers, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. With her full cheeks flushed red and the white cap tied so firmly under her chin, she reminded Sophie of Old Mother Hubbard. Then Xavier made a sound much like the honk of an angry goose and the image of the kindly grandmother was gone.
She caught sight of Sophie with a stethoscope around her neck and her expression shifted to confusion.
“I’m Dr. Sophie Savard, looking after Anna Savard’s patients today. May I examine you, Sister?”
The nun flushed and fumbled her newspaper in a way Sophie thought must be out of character. From all reports, this was not a shy or easily intimidated woman.
“You’re the cousin?”
“Yes.”
“She’s as pale as milk,” Sister Xavier said, as if this were news to Sophie. “And you’re colored.”