Masquerade (41 page)

“There are no arms better than yours.”

Nanny reached over and ran a finger along Fitz’s chin. “I won’t argue with you there. Since I never had any of my own, I take His charge seriously. This is what I was born to do, and by His grace I’ll do it well.”

Which rendered a question. “What am
I
born to do?”

Nanny sat back. “There’s the adventure you seek. Search for your purpose and there you’ll find happiness.”

“How do I do that?”

“Ask the one who created you
for
a unique purpose, then open your eyes. He’ll show you the way in the proper time.”

Time. Lottie looked around for a clock. “What time is it?”

Nanny looked at a watch pinned upon her bodice. “Quarter to ten.”

Lottie rose. “I have to meet Mr. Svensson. I have to work.”

“As do we all, Lottie-girl. As do we all.”

Lottie hurried in a daze to meet Sven. To have found Nanny, to have let Fitz go … If only she could put herself into Nanny’s charge and be cared for and nurtured as she had been as a child.

“Miss Hathaway!”

She saw Sven standing across the street, waited for a horse and cart to pass, then crossed to meet him.

“I see Fitz is not with you.”

“Leaving him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

His face softened. “I’m very sorry for it.”

“But not as awful as it might have been. My old nanny runs the foundling home—can you believe it? It’s a miracle.”

“I’ve heard of many such miracles in this new world. At least you can rest knowing Fitz is well looked after.”

A sudden thought came to her. “Could you and your wife take him in? To know he was being cared for by a loving couple, to have a father and a mother …”

Sven gave her an odd look, then said, “No.”

“That quickly? Perhaps you should ask your wife?”

“No. Just no.”

Lottie didn’t have the stamina to argue with him, and she couldn’t think about it any longer. Fitz was safe. For now. She’d think about tomorrow tomorrow. “Where to, then? I need my mind kept busy.”

“Busy, I can do,” Sven said. “Come with me.”

Charlotte had a decision to make: get out of bed and act well—and she truly did feel well this morning—or pretend to still be indisposed so she had more reason to see Dr. Greenfield when he came to call.

She reluctantly chose the latter. Just one more morning. It’s not as though she was shirking any work. She sent Mary downstairs with the message to the family, then set about to get dressed—with a bit more care than usual.

“Should I wear these earrings, or these?” she asked Mary upon her return.

“I like the pearl ones.”

It was silly, really, this pleasant anticipation of the doctor’s visit. She barely knew the man, and but for a handful of meetings, knew him nearly as little as she knew …

Conrad.

She looked at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? Dr. Greenfield wasn’t a suitor coming to court her. Perhaps he could have been, but as she’d told him on the ship, she was nearly betrothed.

Nearly, but not quite.

Maybe she didn’t feel well after all.

Mary rushed into the bedroom, breathless. “He’s here!”

The maid’s excitement was disconcerting. Was she simply intuitive, pulling her clues from Charlotte’s fastidious toilette this morning? Or … had she been listening at the door yesterday? Did she know the full truth of Charlotte’s identity?

Charlotte didn’t have time to consider more, for within moments the butler showed Dr. Greenfield into the room.

Charlotte waited for his eyes to meet hers. There was such life there, such vibrancy, such passion for …

“Can I get you anything, Doctor?” Mary asked.

“No, I—”

Charlotte broke in. “We would like some tea, Mary.”

She made a face. “Again?” She clearly did not want to leave.

“Yes, again. Please.”

Mary left them alone. Charlotte wanted to pretend she and the doctor were still on the
Etruria
, waltzing across the floor, strolling the decks, standing at the railing together as the city loomed. “Please sit, Doctor. And thank you for coming. Have you any news?”

He sat upon a brocade chair near hers. “First, I must return something of yours.” He removed a lace-edged handkerchief from his pocket.

Charlotte saw the monogram,
DC.
Her eyes sought his. He nodded slightly. It was the handkerchief she’d given him at dinner. On the ship. For his shoes.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling it close. “But you needn’t—”

“It isn’t mine to keep. Under the circumstances.”

Without warning Charlotte wanted to take his hands and tell him,
But it is yours! I’m yours! Leaving you on the ship, telling you I was nearly engaged … it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You’re the one I want. You! Edmund.

He got down to business. “After our talk yesterday I stopped at the Collegiate Church to speak with Pastor Weston.”

The world moved on. She’d lost him. She’d had her chance with this wonderful man, and now it was too late.

He continued. “I was discreet, I didn’t tell him your name, and I gave the impression it was my own inquiry.”

“I appreciate that,” Charlotte said.

“But … the girl Pastor Weston spoke about, the one he mentioned in his sermon, it
was
your Lottie Hathaway.”

Her sadness about Dr. Greenfield was pushed aside by the news. “Did he know her whereabouts?”

“Partially. He remembered her telling him that an Italian family took her in when she lost all her money and—”

“She lost all her money?”

“Apparently it was stolen.”

Charlotte thought back to Castle Garden. The last she’d seen of Lottie, she’d been holding her jewel box to her chest and—

And she’d just placed all her money inside!

“She has nothing? No means of any sort?”

“The pastor didn’t know the details but for the fact that an Italian family had taken her in to their home.”

“And their name?”

He looked at the floor, then up again. “It starts with an
S
. He thinks.”

Charlotte let out a huff of air. “That’s no help at all.”

“He did remember they lived in Five Points. On Mulberry Street.”

“Where is that?”

“I’m new here too, so I asked my cousin.” He shook his head. “It’s not good. Five Points is a notorious place, overcrowded with immigrants and rife with crime and misery.”

“Lottie’s not used to any of those things.”

“Few are.”

She realized her statement was foolish, yet in Lottie’s case it was far too true. “Lottie led a sheltered life. She wanted for nothing, was protected from the harshness of the world, and … and liked it that way.”

“She must not have liked it too much,” he said. “She left it all behind to come here and start anew.”

Charlotte walked herself through Lottie’s plan. “She was supposed to go to my cousin’s house. We’d sent a letter and then a telegram announcing …” She stopped herself. “What if Lottie went there and was turned away?”

“It would be no wonder she came here if she’d lost everything.”

The image of Lottie standing on the sidewalk outside the Tremaines’, drenched to the skin, made Charlotte shiver. “Then why didn’t she come to the door?”

Dr. Greenfield let his gaze wander the room. “You said you’ve known each other for years.”

“Yes.”

“And your being here, in this house, was her idea.”

It all became clear. “She wouldn’t want to ruin it for me.” Charlotte thought of another reason that held equal ground. “And she wouldn’t want to admit defeat. She can be quite stubborn.”

“A trait that should come in handy, considering her situation.”

“But what
is
her situation? We know she’s found shelter, and we assume by their hospitality the family is a good one. But how will she survive? She has no skills, no experience in the world. She must be very fright—”

Mary brought in the tea, and on the tray … “A letter came for you, miss.”

A letter from Lottie?

But no. The handwriting was that of Mrs. Gleason, Lottie’s mother. Surely the letter Charlotte had sent to them hadn’t had time to cross the ocean, so …

She looked at the postmark. It was sent the day after they’d left on their voyage to America. Charlotte opened it and read.

Dearest Daughter,

I regret to inform you that your father has been injured in an accident. He fell from a horse and has broken his leg. It’s a bad break, but the doctor assures us he will recover with time and care.

Charlotte gasped.

“Bad news?”

“Mr.—” She looked at Mary and reminded herself to watch her words. “My father fell from a horse. He broke his leg very badly.”

“Broken bones are extremely painful, and recovery can be tedious and slow.”

“I don’t need to hear that, Doctor.”

“Forgive me.” He pointed at the letter. “When did this occur?”

She looked at the date again. “The day after we left England.”

“You should return home immediately,” the doctor said.

Lottie should return
.

He paused and she watched him embrace the predicament before saying, “Did your mother give any more information?”

Charlotte returned to the letter.

I implore you, dear, do not come home. There is nothing you can do here, and what would ease your father’s mind the most is knowing you are cared for and your future is assured. Aunt Agatha and I are managing his care as best we can.

Please pray for your father and for us all.

With warmest regards,
Mother

“She tells me to stay here, with the Tremaines.”

“Well then,” the doctor said—with a glance at Mary. “But your friend. You must tell your friend.”

She must tell Lottie. But how?

Suddenly she knew what must be done. “Will you take me there, Doctor? To …”
If only Mary would leave, if only I could think of a reason for her to leave.
“To that street we spoke about.”

“You don’t want to go there.”

“But I must. Surely someone would have seen … seen Miss Hathaway.” She thought of a way to cover up the excursion. “Miss Hathaway was my nanny for years and years. She must be told. And besides, I need her comfort in this stressful time.” Charlotte was proud of herself for thinking on her feet so quickly. She was only half lying, because there was a real Miss Hathaway, Lottie’s nanny.

Dr. Greenfield fidgeted in the chair. “The Tremaines will never allow you to—”

“They will if you make the petition for me. And if you say you will accompany me. And if you’re not specific about the destination.”

When he stood, there was reluctance in his stance. “I’ll see what I can do. For the good of my patient.”

But she didn’t want to be his
patient
.

Chapter Sixteen