The Address, page 13
Mr. Camden set the knife back down and Sara huddled closer.
“My dear Mrs. Rutherford, I should have known you’d find us.”
After more grumbling, the men shuffled out, leaving behind the fetid odor of cigar smoke.
They were no longer playing at mocking the rich, they were hiding out in Mr. Rutherford’s private library, eavesdropping, fingering his treasures. Mr. Camden had access to high society through his wife, but Sara was an absolute impostor. She’d been stupid to come. “They’re gone.”
Mr. Camden didn’t move. “Wait a moment, give them time to disperse.” He drew his hand up and lightly touched Sara’s cheek.
She held her breath, riveted by the steely look in his eyes.
“You’re lovely.”
The gesture’s power was as physical as if he’d crushed her in his embrace. Even though she lacked the wealth or standing of the other guests, Mr. Camden didn’t care. His own humble background meant that he understood Sara more than anyone else ever had. He saw her not as a servant or supervisor, but as a woman.
He touched his finger to her lips. “We must go back to the Dakota. Now.”
By the time they returned home, it was after one in the morning, the building quiet as a cathedral. Theo insisted Sara join him for a glass of sherry. In his parlor, she let the cape fall from her shoulders and placed it on a nearby chair while he poured their drinks. She’d never wear such a delicious dress again. So many temptations, all for such a short time. When the sun rose, she’d be back at work taking care of everyone else’s complaints. But the night was her own.
He returned and placed a glass in her hand, and they settled on the settee. “May I call you Sara?”
She nodded. “You may.”
“And will you call me Theo?”
“Of course. In private.”
He sighed. “We’re a couple of misfits, I know. The only reason a lowly architect is allowed to a ball is because his wife has standing, while you are the daughter of an earl and yet you must sneak in under an assumed name.”
“If you remember, neither of us is interested in that sort of life. Only to laugh.”
“But it bothers me, the thought of you toiling away in this prison, managing the likes of Mrs. Haines and Fitzroy. You deserve so much better.”
She laughed. “You call this a prison?”
“A magnificent prison.”
“We all have our own magnificent prisons, even the queen, I’d venture.”
“Now you’re getting all philosophical on me.” He sipped his sherry. “Do you know who you reminded me of tonight?”
She shook her head.
“Cinderella. At the ball, anonymous and beautiful.”
“If so, I seem to have left with both slippers and without my prince.” The intimacy was too much to bear. She set down her glass and rose to her feet. “Please, I must be going. I don’t want to keep you up any later than necessary.”
He stood and handed her the mask. “Will you keep this, as a remembrance?”
“I’d like that.” She smoothed the feathers. “Thank you, Theo.”
He moved closer.
Unexpected memories, horrible ones, filled her head. Of Mr. Ainsworth’s tongue, his hands on her, blood.
She braced herself, uncertain of what to do next. Theo stayed still as well, waiting, watching her.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.” The darkness, the misery of what she’d done, almost made her weep.
She turned toward the fire, staring, watching the flames.
“Was it something I did?” Anguish in his voice.
“No. Of course not.”
“I hope you understand what a friend you’ve been to me, how much I’ve enjoyed having you near. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I apologize if I have. By being too close.”
“It’s not that. Not that at all.” If only she could explain.
“Then, what?”
She began speaking, uncertain at first what she’d reveal. “When I was young, I was sent to an apprenticeship for sewing. Mrs. Ainsworth was a horrible sort, and she’d keep us working late into the evening, when your eyes strained from the effort of properly stitching by candlelight. But where she was mean, her husband was jolly, sweet. He’d slip us butterscotch candies and praise our work. I didn’t realize that he was preying on the other girls. One by one, he’d get them alone. At the time, though, I thought his attention meant I was special.”
“You were a young girl. Innocent.”
“Mrs. Ainsworth was working on a gown for a countess.” Sara plucked at the fabric of her skirt. “This gown. When it was almost finished, she had me try it on, to check the length. He came in when I was wearing it.” She didn’t mention the look Mr. Ainsworth had given her, one of pleasure and longing. How she’d been pleased by her power. She didn’t tell Theo how the other girls had warned her about Mr. Ainsworth’s attentions that afternoon, and told her of the sick things he’d forced them to do. The bloom of her schoolgirl flirtation had rotted away, replaced by embarrassment and disgust. And rage.
“Late that night, she asked me to finish the trim and Mr. Ainsworth snuck in behind me. I didn’t hear him.”
Theo shook his head.
“He leaned over me, one hand on the table, and whispered awful things while pressing against my back. For a moment I froze, but then I did something horrible.” She took a deep breath, remembering the cold feel of steel under her fingers. “I picked up the scissors and stabbed his hand. Right through to the tabletop.”
“Then what happened?” Theo turned her to face him, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She breathed in his scent of oranges and smoke.
“I ran upstairs, still holding the gown, packed up my things, and ran off to London. Took a job as a maid in a horrible place, a seedy inn, and worked my way up.”
“Goodness, Sara. What you’ve been through. What you’ve done.” He lifted her chin and stared down at her. “I understand completely, though. I would have done the same to my stepfather.”
“You would?”
“One year, for my mother’s birthday, I had made a book of sketches for her. Drawings of castles and manor houses, one of her in a fancy dress, similar to the one you’re wearing now, even though she’d never owned such a gown in her life. She lingered over each page, running her fingers over the lines like they were Braille. But it enraged my stepfather. He insisted that she toss the sketchbook in the fire. He knew doing so would kill her spirit, and mine. The triumph in his eyes as she placed it onto the flames made me wish I had a gun. I would have shot him in the face.” He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to erase the memory. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” She wanted him to keep talking, to extend the agony of being so close as long as possible.
“I can’t seem to stay away from you. If something ridiculous happens with one of the tenants or the construction workers, you are the person I want to share it with, right off. I worry I’ve overstepped, and I have tried at times to pull back.”
“I understand. You were doing the proper thing.”
“I’d never want you to think of me like Mr. Ainsworth, but, Sara . . . I don’t want to do the proper thing anymore.”
She, not he, initiated the kiss. The silk gown slipped from her shoulders like rose petals in the heat of summer, and with it went her troubled memories of Mr. Ainsworth. Then Theo took her, carefully and gently, in front of the fire.
Sara let herself go, lost herself in the shadows of the Dakota, within the thick walls that shut out all sounds and fears.
“Mrs. Camden is here!”
Daisy flew into Sara’s office, her cheeks a rosy red. Sara hadn’t gotten any sleep the previous night, slinking back to her room from Theo’s, peacock mask in hand, as dawn broke. Maybe she’d misheard. “I’m sorry?”
“Mr. Camden’s wife and children arrived; they’re heading up to their apartment now, and Mrs. Camden said she had to see you right away.”
“But she’s not due until next Thursday, isn’t she?” The question was a silly one, and didn’t alter the fact that the woman was in the Dakota already, but Sara needed to buy time to absorb this new information.
“I know, but she’s here now. The children are adorable, all dressed alike. I’m going to do just the same when I have children.”
“I’ll be there right away. In the meantime, call the maids for that floor to unpack their belongings.”
The unexpected strident note in her voice drew Daisy up short. “Yes, ma’am.”
After the girl had closed the door behind her, Sara rose and went to the window. What did she hope to see? Theo striding across the courtyard, ready to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her? Of course not. It had been a momentary dream, when they’d both escaped into another world, fueled by the ostentatious beauty of the people and surroundings at the ball. Now it was over.
She wished she could hide up in her room and sleep. Sleep until years had passed and Theo no longer lived here and she could go about her duties without hoping she’d run into him around every corner.
Theo’s apartment was a bustle of activity, porters heaving in trunks, and the maids scrambling around like a flock of white-capped geese. She hesitated in the foyer, one hand on the brass fireplace, listening. A woman’s voice, with a melodic English inflection, rose above the rest.
“Now, Emily, I’m sure your doll is here somewhere. You must be patient and she’ll turn up eventually.”
Sara moved forward. In the parlor stood the woman Sara recognized from the day at the Langham. Her hair was perfectly coiffed on her head in blond waves, and she wore a navy plaid traveling dress. The woman was beautiful, Sara had to admit. Her fairness of skin and hair would have washed her out completely except for her enormous green-gold eyes and those lashes, so black they looked like they came from someone else entirely. No doubt, Theo had been captivated the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She was an artist’s dream.
She stood very upright in the middle of the room, speaking to a girl Sara recognized as the older daughter from the day at the Langham. The girl’s hair was a thick brunette, much like Theo’s.
“Mrs. Camden.” Sara’s voice gave an unexpected squeak. She cleared her throat. “I am Mrs. Smythe, the managerette.”
“Right. We met in London.”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Camden stepped forward, holding out a gloved hand. “You saved my daughter Lula that day, and I was never able to thank you properly. Luckily, Mr. Camden insisted you come all the way to America with us, so I am finally able to do so.”
Sara paused. She’d forgotten the pliability of an English accent. With a slight change in the tone of voice, it was easy to make a statement an accusation, or have it drip with sarcasm. Her first week at the Dakota, Sara had realized that Americans didn’t understand the subtext behind her voice. She had to spell out exactly what she needed, as well as the urgency, and couldn’t depend upon a phrase like “I do hope you’ll find it in you to show up on time for work” to do the trick.
There was an underlying message beneath Mrs. Camden’s statement. A warning. Or was she imagining things?
“No thanks are necessary.”
“In any event, we’re having some difficulty getting settled. The beds in the children’s room need to be moved around; I don’t like the placement.”
“Of course.”
“Minnie.”
Theo strode into the room but stopped when he spotted Sara. For a moment the two remained frozen, their eyes fused on each other, before the young girl rushed to him. “Papa!”
Theo knelt down and took her in his arms. “My darling Emily, what an unexpected delight.” He looked up at his wife. “You arrived early.”
“We certainly did. The seas were in our favor.” She gestured to Sara. “I was just giving Mrs. Smythe her instructions. That’s all for now, Mrs. Smythe.”
“Of course.” She burned with shame.
“Wait.”
Theo’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Mrs. Smythe, thank you for your assistance.”
She refused to meet his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
“But my doll!” Emily grabbed her father’s sleeve. “She’s gone and Mummy won’t do anything about it.”
“Enough.” A weariness in Mrs. Camden’s voice reminded Sara of her first day in New York City, and she felt a small pang of sympathy. “The maids are busy unpacking, but I’m certain Mrs. Smythe might help you.”
The pang dissipated.
“Mrs. Smythe has other duties I’m sure she must take care of,” said Theo.
For a moment, Sara was tongue-tied, until the girl gave her a shy smile. “Would you, please?” she asked.
“Of course.”
As Sara led the girl from the parlor, she overheard Mrs. Camden speaking to Theo. “I thought our apartment would be much farther along. The bedchambers are in a terrible state.”
“I’ve been working, Minnie.”
The woman didn’t answer him. She imagined them in an embrace, Theo kissing his wife. The taste of his lips and mouth were still on her own.
Sara and Emily searched for the doll for only a couple of minutes before Sara discovered it wedged between a dresser and the wall. They were soon joined by the twins, Lula and Luther. Lula, the girl Sara had saved that day that now seemed so long ago, marched over to Sara and yanked on her skirt before running back to her brother with a sly smile. A spirited child, Sara decided. Too bold by far, which explained her near disaster in London. The boy had pretty blond curls, like his sister, but hung back, uncertain.
Having found the doll for Emily, Sara left, closing the apartment’s front door behind her with a solid click. She vowed to steer clear of the entire family from now on.
“Sara.”
Theo was waiting in the corridor. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t have even a minute together. I wanted to apologize.”
She looked up at him. “No need to apologize. It’s better this way.”
“But last night—”
“Let’s not talk about it.” The wail of a child rose from behind the door. Another crisis. “You must go back to your family.”
Instead of waiting for the elevator, Sara took the stairs, careful to make sure her footsteps echoed evenly up the stairwell, even though she wanted more than anything to run willy-nilly away from the man she’d been running toward for the past month.
That evening, she wished she could eat her supper alone in the staff dining hall, but Daisy and Mrs. Haines waved her over to their table, where they sat with a young woman who had a vacant stare and chestnut hair.
“This is Miss Honeycutt, the nanny for the Camdens,” said Daisy by way of introduction.
Sara gave the girl a curt nod. “Please let me know if the family needs anything as they settle in.”
“Of course. So far, all seems to be calm. Though you never know what’s going to spring up.” Her features, though pleasant, were scrunched close together in the frame of her face.
“Have you worked for the family for very long?” asked Mrs. Haines, skewering a piece of potato with her fork.
“I took over in the summer, after they let the previous nanny go.”
“The children seem delightful.” Daisy propped her elbow on the table and fiddled with a loose curl.
“They’re a handful.” Miss Honeycutt gave a sweet smile. “I’ll tell you, it’ll be a reprieve to have Mr. Camden around more, to provide a fatherly sense of discipline to them.”
“He’s quite busy with his work.”
Sara hadn’t meant to bring attention to herself. Mrs. Haines cocked her head, curious.
“I mean, even though the Dakota is up and running, he’s off to work on the next project for Mr. Hardenbergh. I’d advise you to keep a close eye on the girl Lula. She has more temerity than most girls of her age.”
The nanny nodded. “I agree. Quite the sprite.”
“What’s Mrs. Camden like?” asked Daisy.
Sara knew she should stop her from prying, but she wanted to hear the answer. She sipped her tea in an effort to help the mutton haricot go down easier. The cook would need a good talking-to, as the servants’ dinners were in stark contrast to the delicacies from the picnic. Sara added that to her list of tomorrow’s duties.
Miss Honeycutt waved her fork about, thrilled to have an audience. “She’s quiet, often takes to bed with some illness or another. Too bad, as she has the most beautiful dresses. I don’t know if she’ll be able to manage up here in the wilderness. I hear it takes forever just to get into town.”
“The city is gradually moving north.” Sara couldn’t help herself. “There are some grand mansions on Fifth Avenue in the Fifties, and they say they may build along the park as well. We happen to be the first.”
“Can’t happen soon enough for me,” said Daisy. “Did you hear about the masquerade ball at the Rutherfords’ last night?”
“No, what about it?” Miss Honeycutt practically jumped out of her seat. Daisy had met her match when it came to dreaming.
“It’s in the afternoon paper. They had over a thousand guests, but someone stole some kind of treasure.”
Mrs. Haines sniffed. “Treasure? What treasure?”
Daisy looked about and lowered her voice, eager to share the intrigue. “This morning they discovered a valuable knife was missing from Mr. Rutherford’s library. Worth thousands of dollars. From Tibet, it was.”
The image of the gold- and silver-plated handle popped into Sara’s head. She’d stood less than a foot away from it. What if Theo thought she’d taken it?
She cleared her plate and sent a porter with a sealed note to Theo, asking him to meet her on the roof at eight o’clock.
