Relieved, yet a little disappointed, she swung the carriage into motion and marched forward at a fast clip. Whatever he’d been about to say, it was probably wiser to avoid the whole conversation.
For both their sakes.
23
After bidding Darius good-bye, Olivia parked the carriage by the porch and lifted the baby out, still oddly flustered by their conversation. For the sake of her sanity, she needed to put the man out of her mind. Because too much time around Darius Reed made her heart long for what it could never have.
As she headed up the stairs, the clang of the gate echoed behind her. Olivia turned to see the midwife barreling up the walkway.
“Hello, Mrs. Dinglemire. Did someone call you?”
“Yes indeed.” The stout woman huffed as she passed Olivia on the stairs. “I believe Miss Margaret’s time is upon us.”
“Already?” Nerves jumped in Olivia’s stomach at the sudden recollection of Mary’s struggles. Margaret must be so scared after learning the other woman’s fate.
She entered the house behind the midwife, the baby on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me, Miss Rosetti. I know the way.”
Abigail let out a frustrated cry that echoed through the hall. The poor love was obviously hungry. Olivia had kept her out too long, thanks to Darius Reed and his charms. She headed back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Neale had several large pots steaming on the stove.
The cook looked up with a smile. “Does this wee girl need a bottle?”
“She does indeed. If you’re busy, I can heat it up myself.”
“Nonsense. I’ll have it ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. You go and relax in the parlor. I’ll bring it in to you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Neale.” Olivia took the baby into the front room and sat with her in the rocker. The motion would soothe her until the bottle was ready.
Ruth poked her head into the room. “I’ll be upstairs with Mrs. Dinglemire. I want to be close by in case she needs assistance.”
Olivia nodded. “If you need me, just call. Abigail will be ready for her nap after she eats.” But she secretly hoped that her help wouldn’t be needed. The memories of Mary’s struggles were still too fresh in her mind.
“I will. I also want to reassure the other women and make certain they know everything is under control.”
“Good idea. And please tell Margaret I’ll be praying for her.”
Minutes later, Mrs. Neale arrived with the warmed bottle, and Olivia gave in to the pleasure of feeding the little darling. She cherished these quiet moments. Providing Abigail with nourishment, love, and security gave Olivia a great sense of peace. Even waking with her in the middle of the night was no hardship, for it was in those rare moments of tranquility that Olivia felt certain Abigail was a gift from God. A consolation of sorts for the loss of her son. Not that anything could ever make up for that.
Olivia looked forward to hearing from Dr. Henshaw as to whether or not they’d found any of Mary’s relatives. If no one came forward to claim the baby, she would tell him that Abigail could remain at Bennington Place until Olivia could determine what steps were required to make the girl legally hers.
Her heart thumped harder at the thought, and she pressed a kiss to the baby’s soft head. She believed Abigail had come to her for a reason. Olivia had lost her son, and this baby had lost her mamma. What more perfect pairing could there be?
After she laid Abigail in the bassinet for her nap, she retrieved the dry diapers from the clothesline and brought them in to the parlor to fold.
When the doorbell rang, she frowned. That wouldn’t be Darius again, would it?
She opened the door and found a tall, slender woman on the porch. Something about her seemed oddly familiar. It took a moment, but the memory came rushing back with startling clarity. It was Mrs. Linder, the woman from the Children’s Aid Society. The one who’d taken Matteo from her. What was she doing here?
Her heart gave a painful lurch, then just as quickly, a shocking idea occurred to her. Was Mrs. Linder here to tell her that no one wanted to adopt her son and that they were returning him to her?
She swallowed hard and reminded herself to breathe. “Mrs. Linder. What can I do for you?”
The woman’s gaze snapped to her face. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Oh. Obviously, she wasn’t here to see her. “Um, I’m Olivia Rosetti. We met at Toronto General Hospital.” She paused. “You took my son to the Infants’ Home.”
Recognition, then something resembling compassion, entered her eyes. “I remember you now. How are you doing, Miss Rosetti?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
“May I come in? I’m here to speak to the directress about an orphaned baby residing here.”
Olivia stiffened. What did she want with Abigail? Dr. Henshaw was still trying to find Mary’s relatives, someone capable of taking the child. Why would he have contacted Children’s Aid already?
Pushing her fears aside, Olivia summoned her most professional posture. “Mrs. Bennington is occupied at the moment.” She smiled, not allowing herself to be intimidated by the woman. In fact, Olivia would need Mrs. Linder on her side so that if the time came to adopt Abigail, she’d hopefully have an ally. “I am the co-directress of Bennington Place. You can speak with me.”
The woman’s brows shot skyward under the neatly curled row of bangs. “You’re in charge?”
“Mrs. Bennington and I run the home together. Please, won’t you come in?”
She thought of bringing the woman back to the office but decided it would be best to stay close to Abigail in case she woke. She led Mrs. Linder to the parlor, and they each took an armchair by the fireplace.
Mrs. Linder placed her satchel on the ground, then removed a notebook and pencil. She crossed her legs at the ankles and smoothed her green linen skirt over her knees. “I understand
