because of my responsible position at the bank and everything. She was shocked to learn I wasn’t, but even then, she said everyone would know why I’d married her, and I would be pitied and tied to a woman who would be of no assistance to me in my ambitions. I won’t deny those things are important to me, Mrs. Brandt, but I can’t-”
“What does she want from you, then?” Sarah asked, tired of his justifications and trying to make sense of the whole thing.
He looked ashamed to have to say the words aloud. “She wants a sum of money so she can go away somewhere and raise the child by herself.”
At last Sarah was beginning to understand. “How much did she want?”
“A… a thousand dollars should be sufficient.” He would not look her in the eye. “Invested properly, it could bring-”
“Do you even
“No, but-”
“And where does she propose you get it?”
This time the color staining his face was more than embarrassment. “She doesn’t know a lot about business, Mrs. Brandt, and she believes I am very successful. I work in a bank, you see, and many people believe bankers own the money in their institutions. I’m sure she has no idea that I couldn’t simply write a check for that amount.”
Sarah no longer believed this Anna was the innocent Nelson thought her. Anna’s refusal to marry him made no sense at all for a respectable girl, and Sarah was growing more concerned for Nelson every moment. “You still haven’t told me why you invited me to meet you,” she reminded him.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought it would be clear. I was hoping… that is, if you would be so kind, could you speak with Anna? She may not even be… uh… I mean, if there is no child, if that is the case, she would be under no obligation to marry me. But if she is, then… Well, I would certainly take care of her and the child, but I couldn’t possibly send her away.”
He looked so distressed that Sarah had an urge to hug him. Or slap him. How could he have gotten himself into such a predicament? She tried to imagine what his mother would say to all this. Mrs. Ellsworth had confided in Sarah many times that she wished her son would marry and have a family. She dearly wanted grandchildren to spoil before she died. Would she mind that the first of them had been conceived in such a shameful way? And what about this Anna herself? What kind of person was she to have gotten herself into such a predicament? She might be truly innocent as Nelson believed, but Sarah seriously doubted it. Most women in her position would be pathetically grateful for an offer of marriage, and many would even plead for it. Some women had been known to marry men who had raped them just to preserve their good name. In fact, men less honorable than Nelson sometimes used rape to force otherwise unwilling women to marry them. This knowledge made Sarah doubly skeptical of Anna’s protests.
Although she wasn’t certain how much assistance she could offer to either of them, she couldn’t refuse Nelson’s request. She owed it to his mother. “Where can I find Anna to speak with her?” she asked with resignation.
“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I shall be forever in your debt!” Nelson exclaimed.
“Don’t thank me until I’ve actually done something,” she warned, knowing full well that settling this matter might take far more than her own intervention. “Where is she?”
“Her rooming house is only a block away. I can take you there right now.”
“Is she expecting you?”
Nelson flushed again. “Yes, I… that is, I often stop on my way home from work to see how she’s doing.”
Sarah refrained from complimenting him on his solicitousness. His visits to Anna were probably amply rewarded. “Let’s not keep her waiting then,” Sarah said, rising from the bench.
They walked toward the south side of the Square, where the dwellings were still small and wooden. The contrast between them and the mansions sitting on the north side was stark, clearly illustrating how the Square seemed to serve as a dividing line of sorts between rich and poor. Some of these smaller buildings dated back a hundred years, including the shack said to have sheltered Daniel Megie, the hangman who had used the famous hanging tree at the Northwest corner of the Square. Behind these buildings the streets stretched away toward the tip of Manhattan Island. Houses that had formerly been family homes were now boarding houses and tenements and brothels. Sarah reserved her comments and even her speculations until Nelson stopped before one of the smaller homes on Thompson Street.
“This is where she lives,” Nelson said. “She’s been fortunate to have such understanding landlords.”
“I thought you were paying her rent,” Sarah said, thinking they didn’t have to be understanding so much as broadminded to accept such an arrangement.
“I am,” Nelson said sheepishly, “but they could have still thrown her out and found a more reliable tenant, one who didn’t have to depend on… on the charity of others.”
“Charity” was an interesting description of Nelson’s assistance. The landlords could also have thrown her out for immoral behavior. Sarah had to assume that Nelson’s assignations with this Anna had taken place here, since he couldn’t have taken her to his own home, and renting a hotel room for such activities was probably much too daring and scandalous for Nelson even to consider. If that was the case, the landlords were broadminded indeed. Or else they were less than respectable themselves.
Sarah preceded Nelson up the steps of the stoop and allowed him to ring the bell. In a few moments a slender woman laced very tightly into a very fashionable gown of blue and silver plaid opened the front door. Her first reaction was a slight frown when she saw Sarah and didn’t recognize her. Then she noticed Nelson, and the frown become a worried scowl.
“Mr. Ellsworth, what a surprise,” she said, glancing uneasily at Sarah and back to Nelson again. “What brings you here this lovely evening?”
“Mrs. Walcott, this is Mrs. Brandt, a friend of mine whom I’ve brought to meet Miss Blake. We were hoping she would be available,” Nelson explained.
Mrs. Walcott hardly looked reassured. “A friend, you say? I’m sure I can’t imagine why you’ve brought her here to meet Miss Blake.” Mrs. Walcott was taking Sarah’s measure and apparently trying to figure out her relationship to Nelson. Sarah offered her no assistance and merely smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid Miss Blake really isn’t up to meeting anyone right now, though. She isn’t feeling well.”
Sarah thought it was very presumptuous of the landlady to make this decision for Miss Blake, but it was Nelson who replied. “Then all the more reason for her to see us. Mrs. Brandt is a trained nurse.”
Now Mrs. Walcott really was at a loss. If Anna Blake was ill, how could she turn away a nurse who might help her? But plainly, she was loath to admit Sarah to the house under any circumstances. “I… I’ll have to ask Miss Blake if she… Well, I can’t make decisions for her, now can I?” she concluded somewhat belatedly, satisfied that she had struck the proper note between concern and caution.
“We’ll be happy to wait inside while you consult with her,” Sarah said, still smiling sweetly but moving determinedly forward across the doorsill and forcing Mrs. Walcott to make way or be trampled.
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she stepped back and allowed them to enter without making a fuss. Once inside, Sarah noted that Mrs. Walcott was a woman of at least thirty years whose hair was still a rich brown color and styled rather elaborately for a woman who kept a boarding house. A style like that usually required the assistance of a lady’s maid and several hours of preparation, neither of which someone of Mrs. Walcott’s situation in life was likely to have. Then it dawned on her: the landlady was wearing a wig. It was, Sarah had to concede, a clever compromise for a woman vain enough to want to look her best but who had neither the time nor the resources to accomplish it naturally.
Sarah and Nelson paused in the foyer, waiting for instructions, and Mrs. Walcott straightened, or rather stiffened, to her full height. Sarah noticed the woman was several inches taller than she’d realized, as tall as Nelson Ellsworth, in fact, yet still very feminine in spite of her modest curves. “Please, have a seat in the parlor,” she said, gesturing gracefully toward the doorway to their right. Sarah admired the lace mitts she wore. Another affectation assumed to suggest wealth, she guessed. Surely she didn’t wear lace like that all the time. It could hardly survive the labors of normal life. “I’ll see if Miss Blake can receive you.”
She turned and started up the stairs, her back ramrod straight and her stiff skirts rustling discreetly. Even Sarah had to admit she made an impressive picture.
Left to themselves, Nelson motioned for Sarah to enter the parlor. He was familiar with the place-too familiar,
