Victoria Thompson - Murder On Astor Place

“Good heavens,” she murmured.

“Exactly,” her mother said. “I take it you are acquainted with Mr. Mattingly.”

“I’ve… seen him.”

“He’s old enough to be Alicia’s grandfather,” her mother said, confirming Sarah’s impression. “No one could believe her family was seriously considering a marriage between them, which is why no one did believe it. Someone must have started the rumor as some sort of joke. At least that’s what we decided. And when there was no engagement announced, we were sure of it.”

Sarah’s mind was reeling. She could hardly think what to ask next. “Was there…? Did anyone know Alicia had disappeared?”

“I hadn’t heard anything, and I doubt anyone else had, either. She wasn’t out yet, so she would hardly be missed from society. Many families send their young daughters away for months at a time, to school and such. No one would even notice her absence. Oh, Sarah, this business with Alicia is all so horrible,” she said, taking Sarah’s hand in hers. “But I don’t care how awful the tragedy was if it brought you back to us. Does that make me evil?”

Sarah smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I don’t think so. Bringing us back together again might be the one good thing to come from Alicia’s death.”

Her mother stared at her for a long moment, giving Sarah the opportunity to notice subtle changes that she’d been too preoccupied to observe before. Her mother had always been plump, as women of her class were expected to be, but she seemed thinner now, as if time had chiseled off the outer layer of softness. Her eyes were still blue but not as bright as Sarah remembered, and the gold of her hair was now mixed with a generous amount of silver. While she had been blessed with good skin and had taken great pains all of her life to preserve her complexion, time had scratched her a bit. The creases from her nose to her mouth were deeper than Sarah remembered, and the firm line of her jaw had blurred. Sarah couldn’t help wondering how much of this was just the normal ravages of time and how much of it might have been caused by the loss of both her daughters. At least Sarah still had it within her power to give one of them back to her.

“I haven’t even asked how you are,” Sarah said. “You look very well.”

“I look older,” she corrected primly. “How could I not? But you’re right, I’m well. Your father will be so sorry he missed you. He’s in Albany, you know.”

Sarah did know. She’d read it in the Times. He was addressing the legislature about something or other, which was why Sarah hadn’t felt the slightest qualm about coming here today, knowing she wouldn’t have to see him just yet. “How is he?”

Her mother gave her a glance, as if trying to judge the sincerity of her inquiry. “He’s not as well as I am, I’m afraid.”

Sarah felt a pang, although she wasn’t sure if it was concern or simply guilt for not being quite as concerned as she should have been. “Is something wrong? Has he been ill?”

“It’s his stomach. He… Well, I think he worries too much. You know how he takes everything to heart.”

There had been a time when Sarah was sure her father didn’t even have a heart, but she wouldn’t mention that now. “Has he seen a doctor? What do they say?”

Her mother shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “You know how they are. Sometimes I don’t think doctors know anything at all.”

Sarah could have agreed. She’d seen far too many childbirths botched by supposedly expert physicians. On the other hand, she knew how caring her husband had been. “Medicine isn’t an exact science. There’s so much we don’t know about the human body. But most doctors are competent,” she pointed out.

Her mother was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean… Oh, my dear, I hope I haven’t stirred any painful memories for you.”

“Don’t be silly. And Mother, we’ll drive each other to distraction if we keep imagining we’ve given offense about things that happened in the past. We have to put all of that behind us now and go on.”

“Of course,” she agreed eagerly. “It’s just… I’m not sure what to say to you anymore. You seem so… so different.”

“I am different. I’m older, too, and I have my own life. But I’m still your daughter. And I’m not fragile or bitter.” She hoped that was true, at least. “Don’t worry about offending me. You never used to worry about that before,” she reminded her gently.

Her mother managed a small smile at that. “I didn’t, did I? But I never really intended to offend you. I was only concerned with your well-being, Sarah. I still don’t think it’s proper for a woman to live alone and to… well, to do the things you do.”

“Women have been delivering babies since the beginning of time, Mother.”

“But not women of your class, Sarah. You were intended for better things.”

“For visiting my neighbors and attending parties and teas and ordering servants around?” she scoffed.

Sarah saw at once she’d gone too far. Her mother’s face seemed to crumble beneath the weight of Sarah’s contempt.

“Oh, Mother, I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “I didn’t come here to quarrel. I came here to make up with you.”

“I was hoping that was true. When Milly told me you were here, I hardly knew what to think. Or what to expect. Sarah, what can I expect? Are you going to vanish from my life again, or will I see you regularly now? Should I tell your father you were here? Will you come to dinner next week?”

“Of course you can tell Father I was here,” Sarah said with a bravado she didn’t exactly feel. The thought of facing him again, after the harsh words they had exchanged at their last meeting, made her own stomach slightly sick. “And of course I’ll see you regularly now. I’d love to come to dinner, too, but I can’t make plans very far in advance, I’m afraid. I never know when I’ll be needed since babies don’t keep regular hours, but perhaps I could come by for tea one afternoon.” There, that would guarantee a brief visit if things didn’t go well.

“That would be wonderful!” Sarah felt another pang at the longing she saw in her mother’s eyes. “I’ll be sure your father is here, if you’ll send word ahead.”

Sarah made no promises. She would have to wait a day or two to see how truly brave she was. Walking through the city alone at night was nothing compared to facing her father’s wrath again. Would he still be angry or would he have mellowed with the years? Somehow, Sarah could not imagine her father mellowing in a millennium.

They chatted for a while about people Sarah had known, her mother bringing her up to date on their lives and activities. She told Sarah about a trip to Paris her parents had taken and about some parties she had recently attended. Sarah listened politely and asked questions, recognizing her mother’s need to keep her there as long as possible. Perhaps she realized Sarah’s ambivalence about returning and was afraid to let her go. Whatever the reason, Sarah let her babble on for another hour before making her excuses.

Outside, the weather was even warmer than it had been earlier. They really were having an early spring. Sarah began to regret having worn such a heavy dress. She walked the few blocks to the Sixth Avenue elevated train station, trying not to exert herself too much in the heat, and gratefully took shelter on the shade of the covered staircase that led up to the platform.

As she climbed the stairs, she recalled what her mother had told her about Alicia and Sylvester Mattingly. Many people in the VanDamms’s social set would see nothing unusual in her father arranging a marriage for her, and while they might be shocked by his selection of a groom and the vast age difference between the couple, few would condemn such a choice outright. In many ways it would make a certain perverse sense to them. If Alicia’s father wanted to be certain she would be protected and financially secure, an older husband was the logical choice.