FOUR

Stephen arrived home, unaware of the earlier drama. He came into the parlor full of energy, swept Jack up with his good arm, and planted a kiss on Lizzie’s forehead as she lay in my arms.

“And how was your visit? I see you’re still all dressed up, my little man.” Jack giggled with joy as Stephen tickled him.

Delia stood in the doorway, a strained look on her face. “Take the children into the kitchen, Delia, while I talk to Dr. Chapman.”

“Yes!” Stephen approved of this idea. “They can take their supper there.” His eyes crinkled with a smile of triumph he was trying hard to suppress. He disliked sitting down to formal meals in the dining room and had been agitating to feed the children at the broad kitchen table. I put this down to the lack of formality in his own unconventional childhood but I was firm about the need to bring up our offspring to be able to move in polite society. It exasperated me that he assumed I would suddenly abandon my principles in the matter, but there were weightier issues to discuss. Earlier that year, Stephen had turned thirty-eight. He was twelve years my senior. His hair was always a little too long, as he would not take the time to have it cut, but his warm brown eyes were as deep and inviting as ever, even when I was exasperated with him.

As I transferred my daughter into Delia’s arms and carried Jack after her, Stephen seemed completely insensitive to the air of anxiety still present in our apartment. When I returned, he was standing over the desk with a broad grin on his face as he looked at the sheet of calligraphy.

“I see she was here.” He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Tell me all about it.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “Stephen, there is something I need to tell you. They were here, Dr. Stone and Dr. Kahn.” My head was filled with the memory of the scene with Whitbread. “But she was taken away.” I gulped. “Mary Stone was arrested for the murder of that man in Chinatown.”

His face went blank, like a chalkboard swiped by a wet rag. Disbelief grew in his expression, as I explained as succinctly as I could what had happened. He just stared at me for a moment, and then his brow contracted in an awful frown.

“Emily, what is going on?” He shook his head back and forth. “How could this happen?”

“I don’t know. He just said it was for the death of a herbalist, in Chinatown. That was where he went when he left the hospital yesterday.”

“But I thought you went with him?”

“No, I came home. For the children, Stephen. You do remember the children? He wanted me to go with him but I had to come home. I told him Mary and Ida were coming here for tea today. That must be how he knew to come here looking for them.”

Stephen stared at me. “But then what happened? Why didn’t you go with them?”

“Go with them? How could I go with them? I had to be here with my children.”

“But surely you plan to help her? After all the times you’ve worked with Whitbread before? He’ll tell you what’s going on. How can you not? She needs you.”

“Stephen, that was before I had the children. There’s nothing I can do for her. Whitbread is the police. He’ll handle it.”

“Emily, how can you do this? How can you just stand there and do nothing?” He shook his head again. “Oh, and here I had thought you were finally coming out of the swamp of misery in which you have mired yourself for the past year. My God! When will you ever return to your interests and your work?” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I told myself—when you finally met Dr. Stone and Dr. Kahn yesterday—that you’d remembered your own passions and ambitions. What a fool I was to think that.”

He raised a hand, not letting me speak, but I felt a searing flame of anger in my breast—that he would assume that meeting the impressive women doctors would in some way revitalize me. Why could he not understand the sense of responsibility I felt to our children? He was staring at me.

“You have no intention of resuming your work with Whitbread…none at all. You let him arrest Dr. Stone and you aren’t going to help her. You don’t care if she hangs.”

“That is not fair,” I finally retorted. “Apparently Dr. Stone was seen pouring something in a man’s ear and then he died several hours later. There are witnesses and a warrant. Of course, when Whitbread told me that, I had to let him take her. What do you expect me to do?” I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memory of the calm and friendly young Chinese woman who had painted the lovely poem. “I’m sorry this has happened to her, but there is nothing that I can do about it.”

“Since when have you become so helpless? You’ve never been like this before. What is the matter with you? You refuse to return to your studies, you refuse to work with Whitbread, now you won’t help this woman who was arrested in our own home.”

“I have not refused to return to my studies,” I insisted. I was furious with that accusation. “I have two children to care for. I have a home and family to maintain. Why do you never give me credit for this? You can go out to your laboratory. You can attend meetings, surgeries, experiments. You barely see your children at dinner before you rush out the door to some lecture or discussion. Because you grew up in the slums of Baltimore, you have no idea what it is to have a normal childhood. We can’t let our children run wild. They must be trained, or how will they ever be accepted?” I thought of Jack pulling down the teapot. Stephen was never here to help me keep them from behaving like that.

“Emily, I have told you, there is no need for you to confine yourself to the house like this. That’s why we hired Delia.”

“Delia is an uneducated maid. We cannot afford anything more. They are our children, our responsibility. But you barely have time for them. You are off doing your experiments and then you come home and sing the praises of the wonderful Dr. Stone and Dr. Kahn.” I gulped back a sob, unable to believe I was saying this to him. It was a mistake to do so, and I knew it.

“If I have praised Dr. Stone and Dr. Kahn it is for the same qualities that you have always had. I have tried everything I can think of to get you to see that you don’t have to give up your life like this, but you won’t listen. Dean Talbot has held a position for you. I have urged you to join me in attending lectures. I hoped the help of Delia would allow you to spend time on your studies, but you insist on wallowing in self-pity.”

“Self-pity! I do not.”

“You do, you are. I have tried to be patient. I have tried to help you. But to allow this to happen to another woman and do nothing? That is not like you, Emily. It is more than I can sustain. I cannot and will not support you in this madness any longer.” He stepped close to me and put his hand up to my cheek, refusing to listen to my attempts at rebuttal. “Emily, what has happened to you?”

With a violent shake of his head he turned away and I heard the front door slam as he left the house. I collapsed in sobs, my heart like a cold stone in my breast. The accusation was so unfair, but my inability to pierce his arguments was frustrating. He wouldn’t listen to me. It was all very wrong.