The sting of her father’s statement was as raw as the day he’d uttered it, yet she couldn’t dispute the truth in his words. She needed to remember that and to keep her heart’s unrealistic yearnings in check. There would be no romance for her, no words of love or undying devotion. Those were reserved for upright women worthy of such declarations, women untainted by sin and shame.
With a deep inhale of fresh air, she went back inside the house. The roofer should be here any minute. After the fiasco with the angry mob yesterday, he’d kindly agreed to come back today instead. Olivia only hoped the repairs would be finished quickly. The girls and baby Abigail did not need the banging of hammers to disrupt their peace for too long.
She checked on the baby before going in search of Ruth. Now that Olivia’s headache had subsided to a dull throb, she was ready to offer her services again with whatever task Ruth needed done.
When Olivia entered the office, however, she came to an abrupt halt.
Ruth sat at the desk, telephone receiver at her ear, tears streaming from her eyes. “Thank you for letting us know, Doctor. If we can be of any assistance . . .” She paused. “Yes, of course. Good-bye.”
Olivia’s stomach clenched. “Ruth, what is it?”
Ruth took out a handkerchief and wiped her face. “That was Dr. Henshaw. Mary passed away a few hours ago. She never regained consciousness.”
Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, her throat constricting. “I thought she was on the mend.”
“I did too. Dr. Henshaw suspects she suffered internal damage as a result of the beating, which was aggravated by giving birth so soon afterward. Her body just couldn’t take it.”
On shaky limbs, Olivia moved across to one of the chairs. “Poor little Abigail.” Another child left motherless. Tears blurred Olivia’s vision while guilt ate at her. She’d selfishly enjoyed the time alone with Abigail, not fully considering how Mary might be suffering in the meantime. “What do we do now?”
“Nothing for the moment. Dr. Henshaw said he’d be in touch soon. He’s going to request a coroner’s report to determine the actual cause of death. He’ll also see if he can learn Mary’s identity and find out if any relatives might be looking for her. In the meantime, he asked that we continue to look after the baby until further arrangements can be made.”
Arrangements? What sort of arrangements? Surely the authorities wouldn’t consider giving the child to her father, should they learn his identity. A man who would beat his wife did not deserve to raise a child.
And letting that innocent girl go to a foster home was no better an option. That baby deserved someone who could give her the love and the stability she deserved.
Olivia’s thoughts flew to Matteo, and a familiar ache spread through her chest. She would not let anyone take another child from her. Not when she already loved Abigail as though she’d given birth to her herself.
She rose, determination stiffening her spine. Before any such arrangements could be made, Olivia would find a way to ensure Abigail stayed with her.
22
On Monday morning, Darius burst into Mr. Walcott’s office without knocking. The time for reckoning had arrived, and Darius was more than happy to be the one to provide it.
He came to a halt in front of Walcott’s desk, where a curl of cigar smoke hovered in the air. “I hope you’re happy with the damage you’ve caused,” Darius snapped. “That newspaper article was so inflammatory it got an innocent woman seriously injured.” Just remembering Olivia’s wound sent his pent-up anger spewing forth like an uncorked bottle of champagne. “Miss Rosetti could have been killed by those fanatics.”
Walcott lowered his coffee cup. “Good morning to you too,” he said wryly.
Darius ignored the warning tone. “This harassment has to stop. I looked the other way when I found out you’d bribed the inspector, but inciting violence against vulnerable women is unacceptable. I want to know how you intend to fix the situation.”
“Fix it? This public outcry is exactly what I was hoping for. With this kind of turmoil, the maternity home will soon have to shut down.”
Darius clenched his fists. “Did you not hear me? Miss Rosetti ended up in the hospital when someone threw a rock at her. It took seventeen stitches to close the gash on her head.”
Walcott frowned. “I never intended for anyone to get hurt.”
“Well, she did. What if she’d been carrying an infant? Or if the rock had hit her temple? Someone could have died. Are you really willing to live with that on the slim chance of obtaining the property? Because I can pretty much guarantee that Ruth Bennington would rather sell to the devil himself than let you have her home.” Darius’s chest heaved with the labor of his breathing.
Walcott slowly rose from his chair. “It’s becoming apparent that your loyalties have shifted, Reed. And that does not bode well for your future here.”
Recognizing the not-so-subtle threat, Darius took a moment to center himself. “I don’t think loyalty is the issue. It’s a matter of common decency. And this time you’re the one breaking a cardinal rule of business, sir. The Bennington property has become far too personal for you, and I believe it’s clouding your judgment.”
Walcott crossed his arms over his chest.
“We made a proposal,” Darius continued, “and the customer turned it down. If it were any other property, you’d have moved on by now.” He narrowed his eyes. “What is it about this place that matters so much to you?”
Walcott let out a low growl and turned away. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It is if it’s causing you to make bad decisions.”
Walcott’s head whipped around, his features flushed. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge here. You’re getting dangerously close to crossing a line you can’t come back from.” He strode around the desk to stand inches from Darius. “I’d suggest you cool down and think carefully
