knew.
“Such a sad story, but all too common, I’m afraid. We try to help these girls, but by the time they come to us, they’re often so hardened by life that they’ve lost their feminine natures.”
“So you’re saying that Amy might have poisoned Mrs. Van Orner.”
“I have no idea, but I would like to see her for myself. Perhaps we can decide then.”
MRS. SPRATT-WILLIAMS EXPLAINED THAT SHE NO LONGER kept a carriage, so they walked out to Fifth Avenue and found a hansom cab to take them back to the Van Orner house. Sarah would have walked all the way, and they would have gotten there much sooner if they had, given the state of the New York City traffic at midday on a Saturday, but Sarah deferred to her companion. While the weekday traffic was impatient and urgent, the weekend traffic seemed more relaxed and somehow happier, if no less congested as city residents did their shopping and errands in preparation for the Sabbath and another week.
The Van Orners’ maid recognized both of them, but she frowned in confusion when Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked to speak to Miss Cunningham.
“Oh, you mean Amy,” the maid said after a moment. “I don’t know if she’s receiving. We’re in mourning, you see.”
No one could have missed the gigantic black wreath on the front door or the maid’s black armband.
“Just tell her I’d like to see how she is,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said.
A few minutes later, the maid returned to escort them upstairs to the front parlor, where they found Amy ready to receive them as if she were the lady of the house. Only her gown gave her away. She still wore the shabby castoff she’d received at the rescue house.
“Mrs. Spratt-Williams and Mrs. Brandt, how kind of you to come,” she simpered, offering each of them her hand in welcome.
No sooner had they returned her greeting than Miss Yingling hurried into the room, catching herself in the doorway and slowing to a sedate pace as she entered, although her cheeks were flaming with indignation. Except for her expression, she looked the picture of demure womanhood in a gown that surely must have once belonged to Vivian Van Orner. “Amy, you should have told me we have visitors.”
Amy ignored the rebuke in her tone. “They asked to see
Miss Yingling looked at the two guests, obviously not sure she was telling the truth.
“Mrs. Brandt was kind enough to tell me Amy was here,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “I wanted to hurry right over and make sure she was all right. I’ve been very worried since Mrs. Brandt told me yesterday that Amy had disappeared from the rescue house.”
“As you can see, she’s perfectly fine,” Miss Yingling said, although her expression said she wouldn’t have been disappointed had things been otherwise.
“I can speak for myself,” Amy said crossly. “Won’t you sit down. I’ve ordered some tea to be brought up.”
This made Miss Yingling even angrier, as Sarah felt sure Amy had intended for it to. Amy was assuming all sorts of authority.
“How is the baby doing?” Sarah asked when they were all seated.
“I told you, he’s fine,” Amy said. “We’re getting a nurse for him. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow. Then I won’t have to think about him at all.”
“Not that you do now,” Miss Yingling muttered.
“Is she a wet nurse?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, no, they couldn’t get one so quickly. She’s going to give him a bottle, though, so I don’t have to feed him anymore.”
“It’s so much better for the baby if you nurse him,” Sarah said, thinking it would be better in so many ways. If nothing else, his mother would be forced to acknowledge him several times a day at least.
“Oh, they have these scientific formulas now that they give the babies. They’re even better than mother’s milk. Besides,” she added when Sarah would have protested, “Gregory doesn’t want me tied down.”
“The baby doesn’t want you tied down?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked in confusion.
“Mr. Van Orner doesn’t,” Miss Yingling said through stiff lips. The emotion burning in her eyes was so clear, Sarah would not have been surprised had she sprang up from her seat and strangled Amy with her bare hands.
“That’s what I said. Gregory.” Amy smiled sweetly. “Things have changed a lot in a few days, haven’t they, Mrs. Brandt? Mrs. Van Orner was so mean to me, and now I never have to worry about her again.”
Sarah couldn’t manage a reply.
Mrs. Spratt-Williams exchanged a quick glance with Sarah, then turned back to Amy. “Mrs. Van Orner was a wonderful and generous woman. Many people will miss her very much.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll be one of them.” Amy’s eyes shone with merriment . . . or deviltry. Sarah wasn’t sure which.
“Me? Of course I will!”
“But now you don’t have to worry about her telling on you.”
Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s face flooded with color. “I don’t know what you mean!”
“Yes, you do. I heard you arguing with Mrs. Van Orner that day she died, but now she can’t cause trouble for anybody ever again.”
Mrs. Spratt-Williams gave Sarah a desperate glance that told her she had no idea what Amy was talking about.
Apparently oblivious to her guests’ distress, Amy chatted on. “Mrs. Brandt, what should I do to stop my milk? I’ll be so glad to not be leaking all over myself anymore.”
Sarah hated giving these instructions to a perfectly healthy woman with a perfectly healthy baby, especially when she knew the baby wouldn’t do nearly as well on the bottle, but she very quickly gave Amy the instructions.
When she was finished, Amy turned to Miss Yingling. “I hope you were paying attention, Tamar. I’ll never remember all that.”
Sarah knew a moment of pity for Tamar Yingling. If Gregory Van Orner really did intend to keep this girl as his mistress under his own roof, her position here would be impossible, even if Van Orner would agree to let his dead wife’s secretary remain.
“Tamar is taking me shopping on Monday, after the nurse gets here,” Amy said. “Gregory wants me to have some new clothes. He said he’s tired of looking at this old rag.” She giggled.
“We’re going to Macy’s Department Store,” Miss Yingling said, in case they were imagining she would take a harlot to a dressmaker.
“I’m sure you’ll find some very nice things there,” Sarah said.
“Just to tide me over,” Amy clarified. “I’m sure Gregory wants me to have the very best. That’s what he always used to say.” She turned to Miss Yingling. “Don’t let me forget I’ll need a black dress for the funeral, too.”
The three other women stared at her for a long moment in mute horror, and then someone tapped on the door.
The maid stuck her head in. “I’m sorry, Miss Yingling, but the baby’s crying something awful.”
“Why are you telling Miss Yingling?” Amy demanded, jumping to her feet. “He’s
The maid looked stricken. “Yes, miss.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Miss Yingling said with a long-suffering sigh.
“I’m sorry I must leave my guests, but duty calls,” Amy said. “Thank you so much for your visit. Please, come back to see me anytime.”
When she was gone, Miss Yingling sighed again. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” Sarah said. “She’s young and . . .”
“And silly,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams supplied. “No one takes her seriously.”
“I can’t believe she’s behaving like this. I assure you, no one has given her any reason to think she’s the mistress of this house.”
