23

ch-fig

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 that a woman recently gave birth here and unfortunately passed away a few days later.”

“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.”

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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. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street. I need to speak to you.”

He frowned, then looked at his watch. He had a bit of time before the scheduled meeting with her father. “Fine. I’ll get us a table.”

With a grunt, he set off to the café across the street. This day was not going the way he’d planned at all.

Five minutes later, Darius took a sip of strong coffee and drummed his fingers on the somewhat sticky tabletop that the waitress had wiped haphazardly with a rag. What was keeping Meredith? And what could she possibly want? He was meeting with Horace Cheeseman in less than an hour. Was it a coincidence that the man’s daughter had waylaid him now?

A waitress passed by, leaving the scent of apples and cinnamon in her wake. The bell jangled on the door as more patrons entered.

“Sorry. I had to wait until the coast was clear.” Meredith slipped into the booth across from him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.” Her features were pinched, and shadows hugged her eyes.

“What do you want, Meredith? I don’t have much time.”

“I know you’re meeting with Daddy today. That’s why I had to see you. I need your help.”

He peered more closely at her. Clad in a brown dress and plain hat, she looked different today, more subdued somehow. He imagined her world had been turned upside down if she’d told her family the reason Darius had ended their engagement. The possibility existed that she’d lied, made up some excuse blaming him for their parting. He hoped she hadn’t done so, because if she had, he would be forced to tell Mr. Cheeseman the truth in order to uphold both his and Walcott Industries’ good reputation.

“I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you, Meredith.” He needed to establish that fact right away.

Her gaze slid to the cup of coffee he’d ordered for her. “I figured as much.”

“Then what help do you need? If you expect me to lie to your father—”

“That’s not it. I need you to get Daddy to change his mind about something.”

Wariness crept through his system. “About what?”

She bit her lip, her eyes darting to the next booth, as though assessing whether anyone was listening. She leaned closer. “I told Mama and Daddy about . . . my situation. I had no choice, really. They would have found out soon enough.”

“How did they take the news?” Though her deception still stung, Darius wasn’t made of stone. He could appreciate the difficult position she was in.

“Not well.” Her generous mouth, today bare of any color, turned down at the corners. “Daddy is furious with Jerry for shirking his responsibility. He’s determined to hunt him down and force him to face the consequences.”

“As well he should.” Yet Meredith didn’t seem pleased with the notion. “That’s good news, isn’t it? I assume you still have feelings for him if you . . .”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if Daddy finds Jerry, he won’t marry me. He’s made that perfectly clear. Which is why I was so desperate to find someone else.” She let out a sigh. “I owe you an apology for that, by the way. It was unforgivably selfish of me.”

A measure of guilt convicted him, and he lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “You’re not the only one who was selfish,” he admitted. “I had my own reasons for wanting to marry you. Being part of the Cheeseman family would have been beneficial for Sofia and me.”

The clatter of dishes being cleared from the next table competed with the hum of conversation.

“Thank you for saying that.” Meredith stirred her coffee, not looking at him. “I knew you weren’t madly in love with me, so I wondered why you went along with the rushed wedding so easily.”

His muscles relaxed somewhat. At least she wasn’t bent on revenge or trying to pin the pregnancy on him. “So what is it you need me to talk your father out of?”

Moisture welled in her blue eyes. “He’s sending me to stay with relatives in Saskatchewan until the baby is born.”

From her agonized expression, she clearly felt it was a fate worse than death.

“Isn’t that a good thing? It would spare you from the gossipmongers around here.”

She shook her head. “I could never survive there. His cousin lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere. It’s a three-hour car ride to the nearest town. And they expect me to help out with chores until the baby comes.” She reached across to grasp his hand, her eyes pleading with him. “You have to convince Daddy this is a terrible idea.”

Darius stared at her. How would he accomplish that? It wasn’t as if he had an alternate solution. . . .

Or did he?

Slowly, an idea dawned, and he straightened on the bench seat. “Meredith, I have the perfect place for you.” He lowered his voice. “It’s a maternity home here in the city run by two women who have made it their mission to help others in your situation.”

“A maternity home?”

“Yes.” He became more enthused with the idea. Ruth and Olivia would welcome her with open arms. And Meredith would love the grand old house much better than a rustic farm on the prairies. It was the ideal solution. “Bennington Place is beautiful. They have a midwife and a doctor on staff. They’ll help you decide what’s best for you and for the baby when it arrives.”

Indecision played over her features, but then she shook her head. “Daddy won’t agree. And frankly, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable either.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I assure you, the women are very discreet.”

She bit her lip and looked out the window at the steady stream of pedestrians passing by.

“What if I suggest it to your father and see how he reacts?”

“You could try, but I doubt it will do much good.” She rose abruptly. “This was probably a bad idea. I doubt anyone can change Daddy’s mind. Not even you.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I really must go.”

He jumped up, fished a bill from his pocket to leave beside his barely touched cup, and ran out after her. But by the time he reached the sidewalk, she’d vanished. And if he didn’t want to miss his meeting with Mr. Cheeseman, he had no time to go looking for her.

He blew out a breath. Lord, please watch over Meredith and help her make the best decision for her and her child.