The Gilded Hour (40 page)

Then he took her hand and pulled her away, to run with him through the park, breathless and flushed with a youth he had thought long past.

•   •   •

T
HERE
WAS
A
chalkboard just outside the hotel lobby bracketed by the American flag on one side and the Italian flag on the other. An announcement had been written out carefully in English and Italian both:
Monthly Meeting of the Italian Benevolent Society Today at 6 p.m.

“Wait,” Jack said, holding her back a moment. “I have to confess. This meeting is being held in a room. In a hotel.”

Anna pinched him with her hard surgeon’s fingers and was satisfied with the yelp he produced. Then they were in the lobby and surrounded by a crowd of men who came toward Jack as if he were a long-lost son, stopping in an almost comic way, all at once, when they saw Anna. Jack put his arm around her waist in an overtly possessive gesture that should have irritated her. But she could not be agitated about his willingness to claim her publicly, nor could she even deplore that inability in herself. Because Jack was home and he had brought her here to show her off. She was vain enough to be pleased, and embarrassed too.

They were shopkeepers, carpenters, restaurant owners, cigar makers, laborers, masons, stable owners, grooms, manufacturers of pianos and pipe and hairbrushes. And they all held Jack in high esteem, and extended the same to her.

There was a meeting during dinner, all of the discussion in Italian. Anna recognized some words now, thanks to the Russo sisters and Jack:
orphan
,
family
,
money
,
school
. While she picked at her food—small square noodle packets filled with spiced meat, all in a combination of soft cheese and cooked tomatoes—Jack was asked a question and he answered in a tripling Italian that made Anna realize how slowly he had spoken otherwise.

Finally the liquor and cigars came out and Jack squeezed her hand and gestured with his chin toward the door. Anna felt like a child let out of school, but she resisted the urge to hurry. She was a highly educated, mature woman who did not have to give in to every impulse. But the urge to skip stayed with her all the way home.

All the way home they talked. About Chicago and the taciturn chief of detectives, about Anna’s cases over the last week, about Bambina and Sophie and the wedding. Not once did Jack stop to kiss her. She wondered why, and then explained it to herself in a half-dozen reasonable ways. He was exhausted after such a long and difficult trip; his sisters were waiting at home and would begin to worry; he still had to go into the station to make a report, and so on and so on until they turned onto Waverly Place and her disappointment got the upper hand.

“You’re just taking me home?”

His brow quirked. “You have an early surgery tomorrow, didn’t you say?”

She found herself staring at him, dropped her gaze, and lifted it again, unsure of herself suddenly.

He was saying, “Tomorrow will be busy for me, too. It may be late evening by the time I’m finished. Should I come by then?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded a little hoarse. “I would be glad to see you.” She tugged on his hand and he looked down at her. “I’m glad to see you now, Mezzanotte.”

But all she got for her trouble was a chaste kiss at the door and a promise about the next day. He was truly tired, or he was making the point that he could be patient. Something Anna had not asked him to do or be, because it was a skill she lacked herself.

•   •   •

O
VER
THE
NEXT
few days Anna saw Jack often, but never for more than a half hour at a time and always in the middle of a crowd of people who wanted to see him almost as much as Anna did.

She realized that the inability to keep Jack to herself for any amount of time at all was making her cranky, but there was no easy solution. His cousin Umberto’s lodgings at the greenhouse had been claimed by a different cousin whose rooms had been damaged in a fire, news Bambina shared with Anna when they met for dinner on Monday. Bambina’s tone was entirely too satisfied.

Out of his sisters’ hearing Anna told Jack about this. “She knows about—you know.”

He raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. “About?”

The rotter.

“About the night before you left for Chicago.”

And when he still pretended ignorance, she poked him so hard that he captured her hand and held it still in self-defense. He was trying not to laugh.

“They don’t know anything. And if they suspect, does it really matter?”

It didn’t matter, but it felt as though it did. And that irritated. She was a seething mass of irritations.

Bending low to speak directly into her ear, Jack said, “Are you feeling deprived? Because—” He tightened his hold ever so slightly. “I am.”

Somehow that made it all better, and Anna went back to the dinner
table with Jack right behind her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body all along her spine.

Celestina, always the peacemaker, asked Anna about the search for the Russo brothers, a subject that made both girls put aside their gifts and turn toward her.

“I’m afraid there’s not anything of substance to report. We’ve written to forty-six—”

“Fifty-one,” Rosa corrected her. “As of last night, fifty-one.”

Anna smiled at her. “—different places, asylums and child welfare agencies, individuals who might have some information. I hired a young man who was once a newsboy and is very well connected to ask questions. But we’ve had no positive responses.”

“Sixteen letters weren’t answered at all,” Rosa said in a low voice.

“Rosa keeps track of the correspondence,” Anna explained.

“You can read English?” Celestina asked, and Rosa sat up very straight. “I’m practicing every day. Auntie Margaret says I’m making excellent progress.”

“That she is,” Anna said.

Lia took hold of the conversation by telling Jack’s sisters about the stories they were hearing at bedtime. She got off her chair to act out part of The Boy Who Cried Wolf, so delighted with this opportunity to pass the story on that they had to laugh with her.

The little girl had managed something that had seemed to Anna too much to hope for: the tense expectation that radiated from Bambina let up and then disappeared. And another thing for which Anna was very thankful: the impromptu storytelling crowded out any questions that might have been coming her way about wedding plans.

•   •   •

L
ATER
WHEN
J
ACK
walked her home, he said, “They are trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard to hold back the questions. My mother is just as bad; I get a letter almost every day.”

Anna’s life had always been busy. She could spend every waking hour at the hospital and never run out of things to do, and now there were two little girls, two missing brothers, Sophie’s wedding, Cap’s farewell, and the entire Mezzanotte clan, and the idea of her own wedding to juggle. And Jack.

“Do you belong to a lot of associations like the Italian Benevolent Society?”

He shrugged. “Two or three. When there are legal matters to deal with I’m often called in. There aren’t many lawyers in the city who speak Italian.”

Anna considered. The obvious question was, did he want to be that lawyer? He was not too old to read law, after all. But as forward thinking as Jack Mezzanotte might be, few men liked having their career choices challenged. Instead she said, “I should learn Italian.”

“It would be helpful.”

“If I can find the time.”

“You have a willing tutor right beside you.”

“We’ll never have a moment’s quiet time.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “Italian lessons can happen any time. Spontaneously.”

Anna was glad of a cool evening breeze on her cheeks. “On demand?”

“If there’s a room available, certainly. Or a suitable hotel.”

And here they were back at the original problem. Not for the first time she wondered what other people who had no place to be alone together did. The birthrate was evidence that such things happened constantly and everywhere, and not just between married people who shared a bed.

“What are you thinking?” he wanted to know.

Anna started out of her thoughts. “About privacy,” she said. “And the reason people rush into marriage.”

T
HREE
DAYS
LATER
Jack said, “There’s something I wanted to tell you about.”

Anna looked up from the medical journal article she was reading. They were sitting in the garden while the girls played hide-and-seek. For once there were no other adults nearby.

She said, “I’m listening.”

“Where’s your aunt?”

Anna’s brows slanted down into a V shape. “Why?”

“Because I want to tell her about it too.”

“Staten Island?”

“No,” he said, vaguely irritated.

“We’re not going?”

“We will go, but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

“And when will that happen, the trip to Staten Island?”

He realized she was winding him up, and let out what he hoped would sound like a long-suffering sigh.

“Saturday, if you like.”

“It’s a long journey. At least a half day if the ferries are running on time.” She paused to study the binding of her journal. “I doubt we can get back at a reasonable hour. Are there hotels on Staten Island?”

Jack bit back a laugh. “We’d shock Sister Mary Augustin right out of her shoes.”

Anna’s face went slack with surprise.

“What?”

She sat up straighter. “I forgot to tell you about the letter I had from Mary Irene.” She recited it to the best of her memory. “There was an odd phrase,” she finished. “Something like she was reassigned to the Mother
House
where she can contemplate devotion to duty and detachment from self
. What does it mean? Is she being punished?”

Jack said, “I don’t think they would see it that way. They are being protective.”

“Ah.” Anna sat back. “They are protecting her from her own curiosity and her talent—because she is talented, Jack. She has a natural affinity for medicine.”

He waited for her to come to some conclusion, and hoped she wouldn’t decide to rescue Mary Augustin. He could see her doing just that, and looking to him for help.

She was saying, “I don’t understand it, but I don’t see what I can do, either. If she wants a different life, she’ll have to walk away on her own.” She glanced at him and her frown deepened. “It’s a terrible waste of a good mind.”

“I agree.”

“Do you really, or are you trying to appease me?”

“Savard,” Jack said. “Listen to me now. I’m not the kind of man who will say anything to avoid an argument. In fact, I like arguing with you. In this case I do agree.”

“You agree that her mind is being wasted?”

Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. “I agree that she’s in a place where her gifts are not put to good use, yes.”

“Could I write to her?”

“To what end?”

She shrugged. “I could offer her a position as a nurse; she’d have room and board and a small salary. And she could apply for medical school and a scholarship, if she wants to do that. Can I write to her?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been inside a convent and I don’t have any idea what’s allowed and what isn’t. I wasn’t raised a Catholic, you know that.”

“There must be a way to get a letter to her. She’s not a prisoner, is she?”

“No,” Jack said. “Or better said, she’s not being physically restrained. But there are other ways to tie people down.”

Other women liked nothing better than a compliment, but his Anna was inordinately pleased when he offered her a way of looking at something she hadn’t considered. Her smile said this was one of those moments.

“It will have to wait until after the wedding,” she said. “But this weekend—”

“It will have to wait until Monday,” Jack said firmly. “This weekend—” It was his turn to lift a brow.

“Staten Island?”

“Have you ever been?”

“No, I’ve never even thought of it.”

“It’s a wonderful place to visit, the beaches especially. Do you have a bathing costume?”

She shook her head.

“We’ll have to remedy that. I’d like to see your hair down with the sun shining on it.” She looked away, but he went on. “You are beautiful, you know.”

Anna was up in a flash, too embarrassed to sit still, unwilling to be admired.

“I’m going to keep telling you things you don’t like to hear,” he called after her. “Until you believe them.”

She threw up her hands in disgust and disappeared into the house.

•   •   •

A
NNA
DROPPED
ONTO
the sofa across from her aunt, who sat contemplating a swatch of watered silk, the tender blue-green of Sophie’s eyes.

“Did the fitting go well?”

“She will be a stunning bride.” Aunt Quinlan smiled at Anna, something of wistfulness in her expression. “It’s a good thing you’re here, I might have turned maudlin without you to distract me. Where’s Jack?”

“In the garden hatching plans. We’re going to eat with his sisters this evening, to sort through some practical matters.”

Aunt Quinlan’s eyes were damp, and she blinked hard.

“Are you all right, Auntie?”

“I was just thinking that the house will be very empty when you go away. And I’m wondering about the little girls, if you’ll want to take them with you.”

Anna drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I don’t want to disrupt the girls now that they are settled, and I also can’t imagine leaving you to handle this all on your own. Especially if we manage to find the boys.”

“You’re so sure the younger one is on Staten Island, but why?”

“We know Father McKinnawae took him from the Foundling, that’s the one solid piece of information we have. So I think we need to have a plan in case we do bring him home. I know you and Mrs. Lee and Margaret like having children here, but it is too much to ask. We need to talk about hiring a nurse and a maid, too, I think.”

Her aunt nodded. “You’ve decided to move in with the sisters, then.”

Anna bit back a laugh. “God, no. I really don’t want to leave here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else but here.”

“Then stay,” her aunt said. “Jack is welcome, you know that.”

Anna wrapped her arms around herself and offered a small and regretful smile. “He’s too much of a bull for this china shop, Auntie.”

Aunt Quinlan looked beyond Anna to the parlor door. “Come in, Jack,” she said. “We were just talking about your plans.”

He sat down next to Anna, not quite touching. “Bull in a china shop?”

A ripple of awareness ran down Anna’s spine and along every nerve. She wondered if his voice would always elicit such a physical reaction from her.

“Listening at doors, Mezzanotte?”

He flashed a smile at her but spoke to Aunt Quinlan. “I came in to see if you two would take a very short walk with me.”

Aunt Quinlan reached for her cane before the words were out of Jack’s mouth.

Anna got up too. “Is this what you were wanting to tell me? Where are we going?”

“Mrs. Greber’s.” And in response to a blank look: “Your neighbor?”

Aunt Quinlan sat down again. “Katharina Greber?”

Mrs. Greber was one of the few people Aunt Quinlan truly disliked, and her tone gave that away. Anna was glad to see that Jack had it figured out.

“I see there’s some history I don’t know about. You aren’t the best of friends?”

Anna scrambled for the shortest possible explanation. “Aunt Quinlan believes that Mrs. Greber took—”

“—stole.”

“That Mrs. Greber is responsible for the disappearance of one of Mr. Lee’s prize roses. Roots and all. There used to be a door in the wall between her garden and ours—”

“Anna,” said Aunt Quinlan. “You know she took that rose.”

Jack said, “So you won’t miss her, now that she’s moved away.”

Aunt Quinlan’s expression stilled, and then she produced a huge and unapologetic smile. “Moved?”

“To live with a son, I think.”

“And the house is empty?”

Jack’s gaze settled on Anna. “For the moment. I was thinking we might want to buy it.”

“Anna,” Aunt Quinlan said. “If you don’t kiss that man, I’ll have to do it for you.”

•   •   •

T
HE
HOUSE
WAS
far smaller than the Quinlan residence, but similar in style and solidly built, most likely by the same architect. Buff-colored limestone walls and a tile roof, the rooms not especially large but more than sufficient. Inside it was in desperate need of renovation and repairs, but Jack had known immediately that it would suit. The expression on Anna’s face told him he was right.

She went from room to room and then outside into the garden, almost as large as her aunt’s, but terribly overgrown. The symmetry made it clear that this property must have once belonged to the Quinlan parcel, and according to Jack the plat book confirmed that. Both buildings constructed in 1840 by Jonathan Quinlan, Harrison Quinlan’s grandfather. In her second marriage Lily Bonner Ballentyne had married into a family with a shipping fortune and, more rare still, an appreciation for beauty.

“Mr. Lee will need help to bring this garden back to order,” Anna’s aunt murmured.

“There are Mezzanotte cousins and nephews enough to help,” Jack said to her, but he kept his gaze on Anna. “Mr. Lee can have his pick of an army of gardeners.”

Anna walked away from them into waist-high weeds, scanning the brick wall and then pointing. “There’s where the garden door was taken out and bricked over. Could that be restored, do you think?”

“It could,” Jack said. “I would put it at the top of the list so you can come and go easily. It will be safer for the girls too.”

She swept around, her eyes so bright that he thought for a moment that she might be on the verge of tears.

“How soon can it be brought into order, do you think?”

“I’ll talk to the attorney tomorrow. We can start renovations next week, after we make plans and talk about a budget. If that’s what you want to do.”

She strode toward him. “Of course it is,” she said. “It’s exactly what I want. You’re exactly what I want.”

Jack heard Aunt Quinlan moving away and the door closing behind her just as Anna walked into his arms.

She said, “First on that list of things to do is to get a room together where a person can take a nap.” And then she sneezed, three times in a row.

“Good idea,” Jack said. “Unless we want these weeds mowed down first.”

She sneezed once more, a triplet of high quick spasms that made him laugh out loud.

•   •   •

O
N
THE
WAY
uptown later in the afternoon, Anna asked the question she could hold back no longer. “How long have you had that house up your sleeve?”

He shrugged. “Just since yesterday. I saw a mover’s wagon pulling away from the curb and I asked some questions. This morning I talked to the attorney and made an offer. What?”

“Before you asked me?”

“It would have sold to someone else before the day ended. Did I misstep?”

“No,” she said, quite truthfully. “You stepped perfectly.” And after a long moment: “This will be difficult for your sisters.”

Jack touched the small of her back to steer her around a group of girls playing with a jump rope. “There may be a way to lessen the sting.”

She glanced up at him. “You are full of surprises today. What are you thinking?”

“Ask for their help. Unless you want to handle the furnishing and decorating yourself, of course.”

That made her laugh out loud. “Do you think they’re so easily distracted?”

“Ask them and find out. But be prepared, the first question they are going to ask you—”

“A date for the wedding.” She sighed.

“Such enthusiasm,” Jack said dryly.

She pressed his arm. “If the house can be ready, I would say late summer. Will that serve?”

“No,” Jack muttered. “But it will have to do.”