Lia still looked puzzled and then her face cleared as she made a decision. She grabbed her pinafore, skirts, and petticoats in both hands and hefted them to peer down at her own belly and the cotton chemise that covered it. Sophie gently disengaged her little hands and smoothed down the skirts.
“A corset is a kind of chemise,” Sophie repeated. “But not soft. It’s made out of very stiff material. Some ladies wear corsets because if they are tight enough, it pinches in to make their middles look very small. They do this to be fashionable.” She made a motion in the air, the outline of a woman with a tightly cinched waist.
Lia squeezed the rag doll’s lumpy middle, frowning in concentration. She said, “Aunt Margaret wants Rosa to wear a corset.”
It didn’t surprise Sophie to hear this from Lia. While Italian was her first language, the little girl had an acute ear and could parrot things exactly, even if she didn’t entirely understand them.
Sophie said, “Aunt Margaret thinks that all young girls should start wearing corsets as soon as possible, because she did as a girl.”
“But Aunt Quinlan doesn’t like corsets.”
“No, she doesn’t. She didn’t allow Anna or me to wear them, not ever, because she believes corsets—” She paused and rethought her approach. “Girls who wear tight corsets can’t run and play or climb trees or do anything much except sit. Aunt Quinlan says that being free to move is more important than this.” She made the same figure in the air.
She could have added her own medical opinion and Anna’s, but Lia had heard enough. The little girl propelled herself from the bench and onto the lawn, where she stopped to spin in place with her arms extended, the half-dressed doll still firmly in hand. Then she loped off, yelling behind herself, “I am the wind!”
“Yes you are,” Sophie said with a laugh. “And so you shall always be.”
? ? ?
BY THE TIME Sophie and Lia got back, Jack Mezzanotte had gone home and Anna off to bed in anticipation of an early and difficult surgery. But Margaret was waiting and she immediately grabbed up Lia.
“Past her bath time,” she said to Sophie. At the stairs she paused. “Mail came for you while you were out.”
Sophie waved good-bye to Lia, who still held the half-dressed doll in one grubby hand.
On the hall table were two letters and a small packet that took her breath away. She would have recognized it by shape in a dark room, so often had she held it in her hand. The last time more than a year ago. Cap had written the address himself. Very deliberately she put it aside and picked up the first letter, waiting for the frantic beat of her heart to settle.
The handwriting was unfamiliar, an awkward scrawl that was nothing like Cap’s measured, angular hand.
Dear Dr. Savard,
I write with the news that I have no news. I have spoke to the Arabs who run gangs from the Battery to the Park and nobody remembers a Guinea boy with dark hair and blue eyes, about seven years old or any other age. I also had a look around certain establishments you wouldn’t be familiar with, places Detective Sergeant Mezzanotte can tell you about if you ask. No trace of the boy at the Hurdy Gurdy, Billy McGlory’s and the like, nor did I hear of him in worse places still. I’ve got business up Haymarket way this coming week and will see what there is to see. With any luck, nothing at all. Better a train headed west than the Black and Tan or one of the Chinee opium joints, that’s my opinion. I’ll write again as soon as I have something to report, good or bad.
Your humble servant
G. Gianbattista Garibaldi Nediani—Ned
Despite the serious subject matter, Sophie had to smile. Anna’s description of Ned had been almost as colorful as the letter. She put it aside for Anna’s attention.
The second letter had been written by someone with a clean, nimble hand that was also unfamiliar to her.
Dear Dr. Sophie,
It is just a few weeks since we had the pleasure of welcoming you to our home on a beautiful spring afternoon, and now I find myself writing not—as I had hoped—to invite you for another visit, but to share the news of my husband’s sudden death. We laid Sam to rest on what would have been our fifty-second anniversary, just four days ago.
We are steadfast in our faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and take comfort in His tender mercies. He has called Sam to His side and one day He will call me to join him. Until then I have family to look after and work to do.
Aside from this sad news, I am also writing to say that our eldest grandson, also called Samuel Reason, has taken over the printing shop. You didn’t meet Sam when you were here because he was on his way home from Savannah, where he was visiting his wife’s family. Now he asks for permission to call on you to discuss business matters. If you could send word to him at the shop on Hunterfly Road about when he might call, I would be thankful for your help during this difficult time.
I hope you know that you are welcome here at any time, for any reason, and that you will not wait long to visit.
With sincere good regards and many thanks for the care and kindness you showed my beloved husband, I remain your true friend.