“That’s right. How did you learn about this?”
“Dr. Mark Henshaw called our office to report an orphaned infant. Apparently he’s still attempting to learn the identity of the father and whether the woman had any relatives willing to raise the baby. I decided to come and make the preliminary assessment today since I had another visit in the area.”
Olivia fought to retain her composure, the woman’s official demeanor bringing back a host of unpleasant memories: Olivia begging to hold her son a little longer; Mrs. Linder ignoring her pleas and leaving with Matteo, a cotton blanket over the precious face that Olivia would never see again. She drew in a shaky breath. “What would you like to know?”
“Do you have any information on the birth mother?”
“All we know is that her name is Mary. Before she came to us, someone had beaten her. We called Dr. Henshaw, who treated her here. In the middle of the night, Mary went into labor. We summoned the midwife, but she deemed the situation too precarious and let Dr. Henshaw handle the birth.”
“I see.” The woman made some notations on the paper.
“After the midwife left to help another patient, Mrs. Bennington and I assisted with the delivery.”
“So, Mary initially survived and the baby was born healthy?”
“Thankfully, yes. Little Abigail is doing well.”
“Abigail?” She frowned. “Who gave the child that name?”
“Her mother. That’s the only thing she told Mrs. Bennington before she took a turn for the worse.”
“Mary never told you her last name or anything about the baby’s father?”
“No. The only thing she said was to not let him have the baby. We never found out who she meant, but we assumed it was the man who’d beaten her.”
“I see.” Mrs. Linder scribbled some more words on the page, then set the notebook aside. “I’d like to see the baby now, if I may. Is she upstairs?”
Olivia’s heart quivered. What if the woman tried to take Abigail away? Olivia would have no real recourse if she did. But wouldn’t there have to be something more official? Paperwork or some type of records? “She’s right over here, napping.” Olivia rose and walked toward the bassinet. “She’ll likely sleep for another hour or so.”
Mrs. Linder went over and looked into the bed. A tender expression softened her features. “She’s beautiful. It appears she’s been well taken care of.”
“I’ve been doing my best.”
“You’ve been caring for her?”
Olivia nodded. “Primarily, yes.”
Mrs. Linder’s brow creased. “I must caution you, Miss Rosetti, not to get too attached. One way or another, this child will soon be leaving your care, either to go with a relative or to the Infants’ Home.”
Olivia stiffened. She hadn’t had any intention of getting into the matter of adoption this soon, but it seemed her hand had been forced. “Tell me, Mrs. Linder, what if we knew someone willing to adopt the baby? Could a stay at the Infants’ Home be avoided?”
“It’s possible, but the couple in question would have to go through the proper channels. They would have to register with Children’s Aid and pass all the criteria to be eligible for adoption.”
Olivia’s spirits sank. She had no idea there would be so much involved. “What sort of criteria is required?”
“Well, we would start by interviewing both the husband and wife to make sure they had the appropriate qualities for parenthood. We’d learn about the husband’s profession and how much income he earns, and we’d investigate the potential home to make sure it was an appropriate setting in which to raise a child.”
The blood seemed to drain from Olivia’s head, leaving her slightly dizzy. “That sounds like a complicated process.” She hesitated. “I don’t suppose there would ever be a case where an . . . unmarried person could adopt a child?”
Mrs. Linder shook her head, her eyes shining with sympathy. “Highly unlikely. Unless the person was one of Mary’s relatives—a sister, perhaps. That might be the only exception. I’m afraid we don’t allow single people to adopt.”
Just like that, Olivia’s dreams came crashing to the ground like a kite that had lost the wind and landed in a heap. Why had she even asked the question? If she hadn’t, she’d still have a thread of hope to cling to.
Seemingly unaware of Olivia’s turmoil, Mrs. Linder crossed the room to retrieve her notebook and satchel. She drew out a card and handed it to Olivia. “Here’s my number. I’ll be in touch once I hear back from Dr. Henshaw. Then we can make arrangements to bring the baby to her new home.”
Darius stalked down the sidewalk toward his office building, the soles of his shoes smacking the cement with each step. How had he let his conversation with Olivia get so off track? He hadn’t intended to bring up Dr. Henshaw and his obvious feelings for Olivia. Doing so had made her uncomfortable. He’d seen it in the way she’d gone from making pleasant conversation to being guarded and practically racing the carriage back to the house.
To make matters worse, his unexpected hug had confused her. He could tell by the flash of uncertainty that had crossed her features when he let her go.
It was clear he needed to get his thoughts and emotions under control. And until he could do that, it would be best if he avoided Bennington Place altogether. He shoved his hat more firmly on his head and increased his pace.
“Darius.”
He came to a halt outside the entrance to his office building and looked around.
“Over here.” The whispered words sounded frantic.
Meredith stood just beyond the lobby door, mostly hidden by one of the large potted trees that flanked the building entrance. What was she doing here? If she’d come to try to convince him to change his mind about marrying her, she was wasting her time.
“Meredith, why are you hiding behind that tree?”
“Shh. Keep your voice down.” She ducked back. “I don’t want anyone to see me.
