A Good Woman

Also by Danielle Steel

ROGUE MALICE HONOR THYSELF FIVE DAYS IN PARIS AMAZING GRACE LIGHTNING BUNGALOW 2 WINGS SISTERS THE GIFT H.R.H. ACCIDENT COMING OUT VANISHED THE HOUSE MIXED BLESSINGS TOXIC BACHELORS JEWELS MIRACLE NO GREATER LOVE IMPOSSIBLE HEARTBEAT ECHOES MESSAGE FROM NAM SECOND CHANCE DADDY RANSOM STAR SAFE HARBOUR ZOYA JOHNNY ANGEL KALEIDOSCOPE DATING GAME FINE THINGS ANSWERED PRAYERS WANDERLUST SUNSET IN ST. TROPEZ SECRETS THE COTTAGE FAMILY ALBUM THE KISS FULL CIRCLE LEAP OF FAITH CHANGES LONE EAGLE THURSTON HOUSE JOURNEY CROSSINGS THE HOUSE ON HOPE STREET ONCE IN A LIFETIME THE WEDDING A PERFECT STRANGER IRRESISTIBLE FORCES REMEMBRANCE GRANNY DAN PALOMINO BITTERSWEET LOVE: POEMS MIRROR IMAGE THE RING HIS BRIGHT LIGHT: LOVING The Story of Nick Traina TO LOVE AGAIN THE KLONE AND I SUMMER’S END THE LONG ROAD HOME SEASON OF PASSION THE GHOST THE PROMISE SPECIAL DELIVERY NOW AND FOREVER THE RANCH PASSION’S PROMISE SILENT HONOR GOING HOME

To the good women—the great women!

The Best women I know:

Beatrix, Sam, Victoria, Vanessa, and Zara.

Each one special and unique,

courageous, loving, wise, resourceful,

creative, persevering, honest, with integrity,

poise, and grace.

You are my heroes, my role models,

my treasures and my joy.

Thank you for the lessons you have taught

me, and the limitless love we share.

With all my love,

Mom/d.s.

Chapter 1

On the morning of April 14, 1912, Annabelle Worthington was reading quietly in the library of her parents’ house, overlooking the large, walled-in garden. The first signs of spring had begun to appear, the gardeners had planted flowers, and everything looked beautiful for her parents’ return in the next few days. The home she shared with them and her older brother Robert was a large, imposing mansion, at the northern reaches of Fifth Avenue in New York. The Worthingtons, and her mother’s family, the Sinclairs, were directly related to the Vanderbilts and the Astors, and somewhat more indirectly to all the most important New York families. Her father, Arthur, owned and ran the city’s most prestigious bank. His family had been in banking for generations, just as her mother’s family had been in Boston. Her brother Robert, at twenty-four, had worked for her father for the past three years. And of course, when Arthur retired one day, Robert would run the bank. Their future, like their history, was predictable, assured, and safe. It was comforting for Annabelle to grow up in the protection of their world.

Her parents loved each other, and she and Robert had always been close and gotten along. Nothing had ever happened to upset or disturb them. The minor problems they encountered were always instantly buffered and solved. Annabelle had grown up in a sacred, golden world, a happy child, among kind, loving people. The past few months had been exciting for her, although tempered by a recent disappointment. In December, just before Christmas, she had been presented to society at a spectacular ball her parents had given for her. It was her debut, and everyone insisted it was the most elegant and extravagant debutante ball New York had seen in years. Her mother loved giving beautiful parties. The garden had been covered over and heated. The ballroom in their home was exquisite. The band had been the most coveted in the city. Four hundred people had attended, and the gown Annabelle had worn made her look like a fairy princess.

Annabelle was tiny, elfin, delicate, even smaller than her mother. She was a petite blonde, with long, silky golden hair, and huge blue eyes. She was beautiful, with small hands and feet, and perfect features. Throughout her childhood her father always said she looked like a porcelain doll. At eighteen, she had a lovely, well-proportioned slim figure, and a gentle grace. Everything about her suggested the aristocracy that was her heritage and that she and all her ancestors and relations had been born into.

The family had shared a lovely Christmas in the days following the ball, and after all the excitement, parties, and nights out with her brother and parents, in flimsy evening gowns in the winter weather, in the first week of January, Annabelle had fallen ill with a severe case of influenza. Her parents had been worried about her when it turned rapidly to bronchitis, and then nearly to pneumonia. Fortunately, her youth and general good health helped her to recover. But she had been sick and had run fevers in the evenings for nearly a month. Their doctor had decided finally that it would be unwise for her to travel in her weakened condition. Her parents and Robert had planned a trip for months, to visit friends in Europe, and Annabelle was still convalescing when they left on the Mauretania in mid-February. She had traveled on the same ship with them many times before, and her mother offered to stay home with her this time, but by the time they left, Annabelle was well enough for them to leave her alone. She had insisted that her mother not deprive herself of the trip she’d been looking forward to for so long. They were all sorry to leave her, and Annabelle was severely disappointed, but even she admitted that although she felt much better by the time they left, she still didn’t feel quite up to a long journey abroad for two months. She assured her mother, Consuelo, that she would take care of the house while they were away. They trusted her completely.

Annabelle was not the sort of girl one had to worry about, or who would take advantage of their absence. They were just very sorry that she couldn’t come with them, as Annabelle was herself. She was a good sport when she saw them off at the Cunard dock in February, but she returned home feeling a little dejected. She kept herself busy reading and taking on projects in the house that would please her mother. She did lovely needlework, and spent hours mending their finest bed and table linens. She didn’t feel well enough to go out socially, but her closest friend Hortense visited her often. Hortense had also made her debut that year, and the two girls had been best friends since they were children. Hortie already had a beau, and Annabelle had made a bet with her that James would propose to her by Easter. She’d been right, as it turned out, and they had just announced their engagement the week before. Annabelle couldn’t wait to tell her mother, who would be home soon. They were due back on the seventeenth of April, having set sail four days before from Southampton on a new ship.

It had been a long two months without them and Annabelle had missed them. But it had given her an opportunity to regain her health, and do a great deal of reading. After she finished her chores around the house, she spent every afternoon and evening in her father’s library, poring over his books. Her favorites were the ones about important men, or science. She had never had much interest in the romantic books read by her mother, and even less so in the ones loaned to her by Hortense, which she thought were drivel. Annabelle was an intelligent young woman, who soaked up world events and information like a sponge. It gave her lots to talk about with her brother, and even he admitted privately that the depth of her knowledge often put him to shame. Although he had a good head for business, and was extremely responsible, he loved going to parties and seeing friends, whereas Annabelle appeared gregarious on the surface, but had a deep serious nature and a passion for learning, science, and books. Her favorite room in the house was their father’s library, where she spent a great deal of her time.

On the night of the fourteenth, Annabelle read late into the night in her bed, and slept unusually late the next morning. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair when she got up, put on a dressing gown, and made her way slowly down to breakfast. She thought the house was strangely silent as she walked downstairs, and she saw none of the servants. Venturing into the pantry, she found several of them huddled over the newspaper, which they folded quickly. She saw in an instant that their faithful housekeeper Blanche had been crying. She had a soft heart, and any sad story about an animal or a child in distress easily reduced her to tears. Annabelle was expecting one of those stories as she smiled and said good morning, and with that, William the butler began crying and walked out of the room.

“Good lord, what happened?” Annabelle looked at Blanche and the two undermaids in amazement. She saw then that all of them were crying, and without knowing why, her heart skipped a beat. “What’s going on here?” Annabelle asked, instinctively reaching for the newspaper. Blanche hesitated for a long instant and then handed it to her. Annabelle saw the banner headlines as she unfolded it. The Titanic had sunk during the night. It was the brand-new ship her parents and Robert had taken home from England. Her eyes flew open wide as she quickly read the details. There were very few, only that the Titanic had gone down, passengers had been put in the lifeboats, and the White Star Line’s Carpathia had hastened to the scene. It said nothing of fatalities or survivors, but only that one could assume with a ship that size and that new that the passengers had been taken off in time, and the rescue would have been complete. The newspaper reported that the enormous ship had hit an iceberg, and although thought to be unsinkable, it had in fact gone down several hours later. The unimaginable had happened.

Annabelle flew into action immediately, and told Blanche to have the car and her father’s driver brought around. She was halfway out the pantry door to run upstairs and get dressed, as she said that she had to go to the White Star office immediately, for news of Robert and her parents. It didn’t even occur to her that hundreds of others would do the same.

Her hands were trembling as she dressed haphazardly in a simple gray wool dress, put on her stockings and shoes, grabbed her coat and handbag, and ran back down the stairs again, without even bothering to pin up her hair. She looked like a child with her hair flying, as she dashed out the front door and it slammed behind her. The house and everyone in it already seemed frozen in a state of anticipated mourning. As Thomas, her father’s driver, took her to the White Star Line’s offices at the foot of Broadway, Annabelle was battling a wave of silent terror. She saw a newsboy on a street corner, calling out the latest news. He was waving a more recent edition of the paper, and she made the driver stop and buy one.

The paper said that an unknown number of lives had been lost, and that reports were being radioed from the Carpathia about survivors. Annabelle could feel her eyes fill with tears as she read. How could this have happened? It was the largest, newest ship on the seas. This was her maiden voyage. How could a ship like the Titanic go down? And what had happened to her parents, her brother, and so many others?

When they reached the White Star offices, there were hundreds of people clamoring to get in, and Annabelle couldn’t imagine how she could push her way through the throng. Her father’s burly chauffeur helped her, but it still took her an hour to get inside. She explained that her brother and parents were first-class passengers on the illfated ship. A frantic young clerk took her name, as others went to post lists of survivors on the walls outside. The names were being radioed by the radio operator of the Carpathia, assisted by the surviving radio man from the Titanic, and they had boldly written at the top of the list that at present it was still incomplete, which gave many hope for the names they did not see.

Annabelle held one of the lists in her trembling hands, and could hardly read it through her tears, and then near the bottom she saw it, a single name. Consuelo Worthington, first-class passenger. Her father and brother were nowhere on the list, and to steady her nerves, she reminded herself it was incomplete. There were startlingly few names on the list.

“When will you know about the others?” Annabelle asked the clerk as she handed it back to him.

“In a few hours, we hope,” he said as others shouted and called out behind her. People were sobbing, crying, arguing, as more outside fought to come in. The scene was one of panic and chaos, terror and despair.

“Are they still rescuing people from the lifeboats?” Annabelle asked, forcing herself to be hopeful. At least she knew her mother was alive, although who knew in what condition. But surely, the others had survived too.

“They picked the last ones up at eight-thirty this morning,” the clerk said with somber eyes. He had already heard tales of bodies floating in the water, people screaming to be rescued before they died, but it wasn’t up to him to tell the story, and he didn’t have the courage to tell these people that lives had been lost by the hundreds, and maybe more. The list of survivors so far was just over six hundred, and the Carpathia had radioed that they had picked up over seven hundred, but they didn’t have all the names yet. If that was all, it meant over a thousand passengers and crew members had been lost. The clerk didn’t want to believe it either. “We should have the rest of the names in the next few hours,” he said sympathetically, as a man with a red face threatened to hit him if he didn’t hand over the list, which he did immediately. People were frantic, frightened, and spiraling out of control in their desperation for information and reassurance. The clerks were handing out and posting as many lists as they could. And finally, Annabelle and her father’s driver, Thomas, went back to the car, to wait for more news. He offered to take her home, but she insisted she wanted to stay, and check the lists as they updated them over the next few hours. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

She sat in the car in silence, some of the time with her eyes closed, thinking about her parents and her brother, willing them to have survived, while being grateful for her mother’s name on the list so far. She didn’t eat or drink all day, and every hour they went back to check. At five o’clock, they were told that the lists of survivors were complete, with the exception of a few young children who could not yet be identified by name. But everyone else that had been picked up by the Carpathia was on the list.

“Has anyone been picked up by other ships?” someone asked. The clerk silently shook his head. Although there were other ships recovering bodies from the freezing waters, the crew of the Carpathia were the only ones who had been able to rescue survivors, mostly in lifeboats, and a very few from the water. Almost all of those in the icy Atlantic had died before the Carpathia arrived, although the rescuers had been on the scene within two hours after the Titanic went down. It was just too long for anyone to survive the frigid temperature of the ocean.

Annabelle checked the list one more time. There were 706 survivors. She saw her mother’s name again, but there were no other Worthingtons on the list, neither Arthur nor Robert, and all she could do was pray that it was a mistake. Maybe an oversight, or they were unconscious and couldn’t say their names to those who were checking. There was no way to get more news than they had. They were told that the Carpathia was due into New York in three days, on the eighteenth. She would just have to keep faith until then, and be grateful for her mother’s survival. She refused to believe that her father and brother were dead. It just couldn’t be.

She stayed awake all that night, after she got home, and still ate nothing. Hortense came to visit her, and spent the night. They said very little, just held hands and cried a lot. Hortie tried to reassure her, and her mother had come over briefly to comfort Annabelle as well. There were no words to soften what had happened. The whole world was shocked by the news. It was a tragedy of epic proportions.

“Thank God you were too sick to go,” Hortie whispered as they lay in Annabelle’s bed together after her mother left and went home. She had suggested that her daughter spend the night, and in fact stay there until Annabelle’s mother returned. She didn’t want Annabelle to be alone. Annabelle only nodded at the comment, feeling guilty for not having been with them, wondering if her presence could have helped in some way. Maybe she could have saved one of them at least, or someone.

For the next three days, she and Hortie roamed the house like ghosts. Hortie was the only friend she wanted to see or speak to in her shock and grief. Annabelle ate almost nothing, despite the housekeeper’s exhortations. Everyone was constantly crying, and finally Annabelle and Hortie went for a walk to get some air. James came and escorted them, and he was very kind to Annabelle and told her how sorry he was about what had happened. The city, and the world, could think of nothing else.

There was still relatively little news from the Carpathia, except the confirmation that the Titanic had indeed sunk, and the list of survivors was complete and firm. Only the unidentified babies and children were not on the list, and would have to be identified by family members in port, if they were American. If not, they would have to be returned to Cherbourg and Southampton to their anguished families there. Half a dozen of them belonged to none of the survivors and were too young to say their names. Others were taking care of them in the absence of their parents, and there was no way of telling who they were. But everyone else, even the sick or injured, was on the list, they’d been assured. Annabelle still didn’t believe it as Thomas drove her to the Cunard dock on the night of the eighteenth. Hortie didn’t want to go with her, as she didn’t want to intrude, so Annabelle went to Pier 54 alone.

The waiting crowd saw the Carpathia steam slowly into port, with tugboats, just after nine P.M. Annabelle could feel her heart pounding as she watched her, and the ship startled everyone by going to the White Star docks at Piers 59 and 60 instead. And there, in plain sight of all observers, she slowly lowered the remaining lifeboats of the Titanic, which was all that was left of her, to return them to the White Star Line, before the Carpathia docked herself. Photographers were crammed into a flotilla of small boats trying to get photographs of the lifeboats, and survivors of the disaster lined up at the rail. The atmosphere around them was half funeral, half circus, as the relatives of survivors waited in agonized silence to see who would come off, and reporters and photographers shouted to each other and jockeyed for the best positions and best shots.

After depositing the lifeboats, the Carpathia moved slowly to her own dock at Pier 54, and longshoremen and Cunard employees tied her up quickly. And then the gangway was finally let down. In silence, and with heartrending deference, the Titanic survivors were let off first. Passengers from the Carpathia hugged some of them and squeezed their hands. There were many tears, and little said, as one by one, the survivors came off, most of them with tears streaming down their faces, some still in shock from what they’d seen, and lived through on that awful night. No one would soon forget the hideous screams and moans from the water, the shouts and calls for help in vain as people died. Those in the lifeboats had been too afraid of picking people up, for fear they would capsize from the effort, and drown even more people than those who were already doomed in the water. The sights around them had been hideous, of dead floating bodies, as they waited for help to come and to be picked up.

As they came off the Carpathia, there were women with young children, a few women still in evening gowns from their last night aboard the doomed ship, with blankets over them. Some of them had been too shaken to change their clothes for the past three days, and had huddled in the space provided in the Carpathia’s dining rooms and main salons. The regular passengers and the crew had done all they could to help, but no one could change the death toll and the shocking loss of life, in circumstances no one could have foreseen.

Annabelle felt breathless until she spotted her mother the moment she reached the gangway. She watched Consuelo coming toward her in the distance, with borrowed clothes, a tragic face, and her head held high in grief-stricken dignity. Annabelle saw it all on her face. There was no other familiar figure with her. Her father and brother were nowhere to be seen. Annabelle glanced one last time behind her mother, but Consuelo was entirely alone amid a sea of other survivors, mostly women, and a few men who seemed to look slightly embarrassed as they got off with their wives. There was a constant explosion of flashbulbs, as reporters recorded as many reunions as they could. And then suddenly her mother was standing in front of her, and Annabelle took her in her arms so tightly that neither of them could breathe. Consuelo was sobbing, and so was she as they clung to each other, while passengers and families eddied around them. And then, with Annabelle’s arm around her mother’s shoulders, they slowly walked away. It was raining, and no one cared. Consuelo was wearing a rough wool dress that didn’t fit her, and evening shoes, and still wore a diamond necklace and earrings from the night the ship sank. She had no coat, and Thomas quickly brought Annabelle the car blanket to put around her mother.

They were barely away from the gangway when Annabelle asked the question she had to ask. She could guess the answer, but she couldn’t bear not knowing. She whispered it to her mother, “Robert and Daddy?…” Her mother only shook her head, and cried harder as Annabelle led her to the car. Her mother suddenly seemed so frail and so much older. She was a widow at forty-three, and she seemed like an old woman as Thomas gently helped her into the car, and covered her carefully with the fur blanket. Consuelo just looked at him and cried, and then quietly thanked him. She and Annabelle held each other tight in silence as they rode home. Her mother didn’t speak again until they reached the house.

All of the servants were waiting in the front hall, to embrace her, hug her, hold her, and when they saw she was alone, to tell her how sorry they were. Within the hour, there was a somber black wreath on the door. There were many in New York that night, once it was clear who hadn’t come home and never would.

Annabelle helped to bathe her mother and get her into a nightgown, and Blanche fussed over her like a child. She had taken care of Consuelo since she was a young girl, and had attended both Annabelle’s and Robert’s births. And now, it had come to this. As she plumped Consuelo’s pillows up behind her, once they got her into bed, Blanche had to constantly wipe her eyes, and made little comforting cooing sounds. She brought up a tray with tea, porridge, bland toast, broth, and her favorite cookies, which Consuelo didn’t eat. She just sat staring at both of them, unable to say a word.

Annabelle slept in her mother’s bed that night, and finally in the darkest hours, when Consuelo shook from head to foot and couldn’t sleep, she told her daughter what had happened. She had been in lifeboat number four, with her cousin Madeleine Astor, whose husband hadn’t survived either. She said that the lifeboat had only been half full, but her husband and Robert had refused to get in, wanting to stay back to help others, and allow room for the women and children. But there had been plenty of room for them. “If only they’d gotten in,” Consuelo said in desperation. The Wideners, Thayers, and Lucille Carter, all known to her, had been in the lifeboat too. But Robert and Arthur had steadfastly stayed on board to help the others into lifeboats, and given up their lives. Consuelo spoke too of a man named Thomas Andrews, who had been one of the heroes of the night. And she made a point of telling Annabelle that her father and brother had been very brave, which was small consolation now.

They talked for hours, as Consuelo relived the last moments on the ship, and her daughter held her and cried as she listened. Finally as dawn streamed into the room, at last, with a sigh, Consuelo fell asleep.

Chapter 2

There were hundreds of funerals that week in New York, and elsewhere. Newspapers everywhere were filled with poignant stories, and shocking accounts. It was becoming clear to everyone that many of the lifeboats had left the ship half empty, carrying only firstclass passengers, and the world was shocked. The much-acclaimed hero was the captain of the Carpathia, who had rushed to the scene and picked up the survivors. There was still little explanation as to why the ship had sunk. Once it struck the iceberg, they couldn’t avoid her going down. But there was much comment and consternation about why the Titanic had pressed on through the icefield, after it had been warned. Fortunately, the Carpathia had listened to their desperate pleas for help on the radio, or perhaps none of them would have survived.

The doctor had come to check Consuelo, and found her in remarkably good health, although grief-stricken and shocked. All the life seemed to have gone out of her. And Annabelle was left to plan her father and brother’s funerals in infinite detail. The joint service would be held at Trinity Church, which had been a favorite of her father’s.

The service was somber and dignified, with hundreds of mourners there to pay their respects. Both caskets at the Worthington funeral service were empty, as neither body had been recovered, and sadly, never were. Of the 1,517 who died, only fifty-one bodies were ever found. The others disappeared quietly into a watery grave at sea.

Several hundred of the people who attended the service came back to the house afterward, where food and drink were served. Some wakes had a festive atmosphere to them, but this one didn’t. Robert had been only twenty-four, and his father forty-six, both in the flower of life, and had died in such a tragic way. Both Annabelle and Consuelo were swathed in somber black. Annabelle with a handsome black hat, and her mother in a widow’s veil. And that night, when everyone had left, Consuelo looked shattered beyond belief. So much so that Annabelle couldn’t help wondering how much of her mother was left. Her spirit seemed to have died with her two men, and Annabelle was seriously worried about her.

It was a great relief to Annabelle when her mother announced at breakfast two weeks after the funeral that she wanted to go to the hospital where she did volunteer work. She said she thought it would do her good to think of someone else, and Annabelle agreed.

“Are you sure you’re up to it, Mama?” Annabelle inquired quietly, with a look of concern. She didn’t want her mother getting sick, although it was early May and the temperature was warm.

“I’m fine,” her mother said sadly. As fine as she was going to be for a long time. And that afternoon, both women wore their black dresses, and white hospital aprons, and went to St. Vincent’s Hospital, where Consuelo had worked as a volunteer for years. Annabelle had joined her mother there since she was fifteen. They worked mostly with the indigent, and dealt more with wounds and injuries than infectious diseases. Annabelle had always been fascinated by the work, and had a natural talent for it, and her mother had a gentle manner and a kind heart. But the medical aspect of it was what had always intrigued Annabelle, and whenever possible she read medical books to explain the procedures they saw. She had never been squeamish, unlike Hortie, who had fainted the only time Annabelle had convinced her to join them. The messier a situation got, the more Annabelle liked it. Her mother preferred to serve food on trays, while Annabelle assisted the nurses whenever they let her, changing dressings and cleaning wounds. Patients always said that she had an amazingly gentle touch.

They returned exhausted that night, after a long, tiring afternoon, and went back to the hospital again later that week. If nothing else, it was keeping both Annabelle and her mother distracted from their double loss. Suddenly, the spring that had been meant to be the most exciting time of Annabelle’s life, after her debut, had turned into a time of solitude and mourning. They would accept no invitations for the next year, which worried Consuelo. While Annabelle would remain at home in somber black, all the other young women who had just come out would be getting engaged. She was afraid that the tragedy that had struck them would also now impact her daughter’s future in a most unfortunate way, but there was nothing they could do. Annabelle didn’t seem to think about what she was missing. Appropriately, she was far more distressed about their losses than about her future, or the absence of a social life.

Hortie still came to visit them often, and in mid-May they quietly celebrated Annabelle’s nineteenth birthday. Consuelo was very upset at lunch, and commented that she had married at eighteen, when she came out, and Robert had been born when she was the age that Annabelle was now. Thinking about it reduced her to tears again, and she had left the two girls in the garden, and went upstairs to lie down.

“Your poor mother,” Hortie said sympathetically, and then looked at her friend, “and poor you. I’m so sorry, Belle. This is all so awful.” She felt so badly for her that it took her another two hours to admit that she and James had set the date for their wedding, in November, and plans for an enormous reception were under way. Annabelle said she was thrilled for her, and meant it. “You really don’t care that you can’t go out right now?” Hortie asked her. She would have hated being stuck in the house for a year, but Annabelle accepted it with grace. She was only nineteen, and the next year wasn’t going to be fun for her. But she had already grown up immeasurably in the brief month since her brother and father had died.

“I don’t mind,” Annabelle said quietly. “And as long as Mama is willing to work at the hospital, it gives me something to do when I go with her.”

“Ergh, don’t talk to me about that.” Hortie rolled her eyes. “It makes me sick.” But she knew that her friend loved it. “Will you still go to Newport this year?” The Worthingtons had a beautiful cottage there, in Rhode Island, next door to the Astors.

“Mama says we will. Maybe we can go up early, in June, instead of July, before the season starts. I think it would do her good.” Caring for her mother was Annabelle’s only concern now, unlike Hortie, who had a wedding to plan, a million parties to go to, and a fiancé she was madly in love with. Her life was what Annabelle’s should have been, and no longer was. Her world, as she knew it, had been interrupted, changed forever.

“At least we’ll be together in Newport,” Hortie said happily. They both loved to go swimming, when their mothers would let them. They talked about the wedding plans for a while, and then Hortie left. For Annabelle, it had been a very quiet birthday.

In the weeks following the funerals, Consuelo and Annabelle had several visits, as was expected. Friends of Robert’s came to call, several elderly dowagers came to offer their condolences to Consuelo, two men from Arthur’s bank whom they knew well, and finally, a third one, whom Consuelo had met several times, and liked very much. His name was Josiah Millbank, he was thirty-eight years old, and was much respected at Arthur’s bank. He was a quiet man, with gentle manners, and told Consuelo several stories about Arthur that she’d never heard before, and which made her laugh. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed Josiah’s visit, and he had been there for an hour when Annabelle came in from a ride with Hortie. Annabelle remembered meeting him previously, but didn’t know him well. He was more her father’s generation than her own, and was even fourteen years older than her brother, so although they had seen each other at parties, they had nothing in common. But like her mother, she was impressed by his kindness and good manners, and he was sympathetic to Annabelle as well.

He mentioned that he was going to Newport in July, as he always did. He had a simple, comfortable house there. Josiah was originally from Boston, from a family as respectable as their own, and with even more money. He led a quiet life anyway, and was never showy about it. He promised to come and visit them again in Newport, and Consuelo said she’d like that. After he left, Annabelle noticed that he had brought a large bouquet of white lilacs that had already been put in a vase. Consuelo commented about him after he left.

“He’s really a very nice man,” Consuelo said quietly, admiring the lilac. “Your father liked him a lot, and I can see why. I wonder why he never married.”

“Some people don’t,” Annabelle said, looking unconcerned. “Not everyone has to get married, Mama,” she added with a smile. She was beginning to wonder if she was going to be one of those. She couldn’t imagine leaving her mother now, to go off with a man. She wouldn’t want to leave Consuelo alone. And it didn’t seem like a tragedy to her if she didn’t marry. It would have been to Hortie, but not to her. With her father and brother gone, and her mother shaken to her core, Annabelle felt she had more important responsibilities at home, and didn’t resent it for a moment. Caring for her mother gave purpose to her life.

“If you’re telling me you don’t want to get married,” her mother correctly read her mind, as she often did, “you can forget about that right now. We are going to do our year of mourning, as is proper, and then we’re going to find you a husband. That’s what your father would want.”

Annabelle turned to face her seriously then. “Daddy wouldn’t want me to leave you alone,” she said as firmly as any parent.

Consuelo shook her head. “That’s nonsense and you know it. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” But as she said it, her eyes filled with tears again, and her daughter was not convinced.

“We’ll see about that,” Annabelle said firmly, and swept out of the room, to organize a tea tray to be taken up to Consuelo’s room. When she returned, she put her arm around her mother, gently escorted her upstairs for a nap, and settled her on her bed, the bed she had shared with the husband she had loved and who was gone, which broke Consuelo’s heart.

“You’re much too good to me, my love,” she said, looking embarrassed.

“No, I’m not,” Annabelle said brightly. She was the only remaining ray of sunshine in the house. She brought her mother nothing but joy. And each was all the other had left. There were just the two of them now. She pulled a light shawl over Consuelo, and went back downstairs to read in the garden, hoping her mother would feel up to going back to the hospital the next day. It was the only distraction Annabelle had, and gave her something to do that was important to her.

She could hardly wait to go to Newport the following month.

Chapter 3

Annabelle and her mother left for Newport a month earlier than usual, in June. It was beautiful that time of year, and as they always did, the staff had gone ahead to open the house. Usually, the social season in Newport was dazzling, but this year they were planning a very quiet life. People could visit them at the house, but two months after her father and brother’s deaths there was no way that Annabelle and her mother could go out. The now-familiar black ribbons were put on the front door in Newport, to indicate their state of mourning.

There were a number of families in the same situation in Newport that year, including the Astors. Madeleine Astor, who had lost her husband John Jacob on the Titanic, was expecting her baby in August. The tragedy had hit the New York social world hard, since it was the maiden voyage, and so many society types and aristocrats had been on the ship. And continuing news of the ineptitude of the crew getting people off the boat was increasingly disturbing. Almost all the lifeboats had left half empty. Some men had forced their way into them with the women and children. And almost no one from steerage had been saved. There were going to be official hearings about it in time.

Newport was extremely quiet in June, but started to liven up as people from Boston and New York began to arrive and fill their “cottages” in July. For the uninitiated, what people called cottages in Newport were actually mansions of mammoth proportions anywhere else. They were houses with ballrooms, enormous chandeliers, marble floors, priceless antique furniture, and spectacular gardens, bordering on the sea. It was a remarkable community made up of the scions of society from the entire East Coast, a watering hole for the very rich. The Worthingtons were right at home there. Their cottage was one of the largest and loveliest in town.

Annabelle started to have fun once Hortie arrived. They sneaked off to the sea together, went for walks, and Hortie’s fiancé James often joined them for picnics on the lawn. Now and then he brought friends, which was fun for Annabelle, and her mother pretended she didn’t notice. As long as they didn’t go to parties, she had no objection to Annabelle seeing young people. She was such a good person and so devoted to her mother, she deserved it. Consuelo wondered if any of James’s friends, or Robert’s old pals, would spark Annabelle’s interest. She was increasingly worried that the year of mourning would impact Annabelle’s fate forever. Since the Christmas season, when all the girls had come out, six of the young women in Annabelle’s age group had gotten engaged. And Annabelle wasn’t going to meet anyone staying at home with her mother. After the past two months, she already seemed older and more mature than the others. Something like that could frighten young men away. And more than anything, her mother wanted her to get married. Annabelle continued to be unconcerned and was happy to see Hortie and the others, but none of the men was of even the slightest interest to her.

Josiah Millbank came to see them once he arrived in July too. He never failed to bring a gift with him when he visited, flowers in the city, and in Newport, either fruit or candy. He spent hours talking to Consuelo, as they sat together on the wide porch in rocking chairs, and after his third visit, Annabelle teased her about it.

“I think he likes you, Mama,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t be silly.” Consuelo blushed at the suggestion. The last thing she wanted was a suitor. She intended to remain faithful to her husband’s memory forever, and said so to anyone who would listen. She was not one of those widows who was looking for a husband, although she wanted one desperately for Annabelle. “He’s just being kind to us,” Consuelo added firmly, convinced of what she was saying. “He’s younger than I am anyway, and if he’s interested in anyone, it’s you.” Although she had to admit, there was no evidence of it. He seemed to be equally comfortable talking to mother or daughter, and he was never flirtatious, just friendly.

“He’s not interested in me, Mama,” Annabelle confirmed with a broad grin, “and he’s only five years younger than you are. I think he’s a very nice person. And he’s old enough to be my father.”

“Lots of girls your age marry men his age,” her mother said quietly. “He’s not that old, for heaven’s sake. I think he’s only thirty-eight, if I remember correctly.”

“He’s much better for you.” Annabelle laughed and ran off with Hortie. It was a hot, sunny day and they wanted to go swimming, and James had promised to come over later. There was a big party planned at the Schuylers’ that night, which James and Hortie and all their friends were going to, although Annabelle of course couldn’t. She wouldn’t have dreamed of asking her mother, and didn’t want to upset her.

But that night, sitting on the porch, they could hear the party and the music in the distance. There were fireworks, and Consuelo knew it was to celebrate the engagement of one of the Schuyler daughters. It made her heart ache for Annabelle as they listened.

Much to their surprise, Josiah dropped by later in the evening to bring them each a piece of cake from the party. He was on the way back to his place, and both women were touched by the thoughtful gesture. He stayed for a glass of lemonade with them, and then said he had to leave, as he had a houseguest waiting for him at home. He promised to come back soon, when they thanked him. Even Annabelle was touched by the gesture of friendship. She had no romantic interest in him, but in a funny way, she felt as though he were standing in for her brother. She liked talking to him, and he teased her in just the way Robert used to, and which she missed so much.

“I wonder why he didn’t take his houseguest to the party,” Consuelo mused, as she left their glasses and the pitcher of lemonade in the pantry.

“Maybe they’re unsuitable,” Annabelle teased, “a shocking, unsuitable woman. Maybe he has a mistress,” she said, chortling, as her mother guffawed. Given how well brought up Josiah was, and how polite, it seemed extremely unlikely. And he wouldn’t have mentioned a guest at all if that were the case.

“You have a most unsuitable imagination,” her mother scolded, and a moment later the two of them went upstairs, chatting amiably about Josiah and how nice he had been to bring them cake from the party. It was the first time Annabelle had actually been sorry she couldn’t go out. All her friends had been there, and it had sounded like quite a celebration, with the fireworks and all. It was going to be a very quiet summer, except for Hortie and Josiah, both of whom were faithful about frequent visits, and a few other friends as well.

Josiah came back again the next day, and Consuelo invited him for a picnic lunch with Annabelle and Hortie. Josiah seemed perfectly at ease with both girls, even though Hortie giggled a lot and was often silly, and he said that he had a half-sister their age, from his father’s second marriage after he was widowed. Annabelle still couldn’t imagine Hortie as a married woman, which she would be in four months. She was still such a baby, but she was crazy about James, and often when she and Annabelle were alone, she made racy comments about their wedding night and honeymoon, which made Annabelle roll her eyes. Fortunately, Hortie said none of that in front of Josiah, and he commented that his sister had gotten married in April and was expecting a baby. He seemed to be perfectly familiar with the lives, pursuits, and interests of young girls, and they both enjoyed talking to him.

He mentioned his houseguest to them, and said he was a classmate of his from Harvard, and came up to visit every summer. He said he was a studious, quiet fellow, and usually avoided social events and parties.

Josiah stayed until the late afternoon, and walked Annabelle back up to the house when Hortie left. Her mother was sitting on the porch, chatting with a friend. It was fun for them there. Lots of people came to visit, and there was a sense of life swirling around them. It was particularly nice for Annabelle, who was dreading going back to the city. She had told Josiah about the hospital work she loved to do, and he had teased her about it.

“I suppose you want to be a nurse when you grow up,” he said, knowing full well, as she did, that that would never happen. The closest she would ever get to it was volunteer work, but she still did a lot of reading about medical subjects. It was her secret passion.

“Actually,” she said honestly, not afraid to be candid with him, “I’d rather be a doctor.” She felt as though she could tell him anything, and he wouldn’t laugh at her. He had become a good friend since her father died and he had begun his visits to them. But this time he looked startled. She had surprised him. She was a far more serious person than even he had guessed, and he could see from the look on her face that she meant what she had said.

“That’s a pretty impressive ambition,” he said, sobered for a minute. “Would you ever do that?”

“My mother would never let me. But I’d love to if I could. I take medical books and books about anatomy out of the library sometimes. I don’t understand everything they say, but I’ve learned some interesting things. I think medicine is fascinating. And there are a lot more women doctors now than there were.” Women had been getting into medical schools for over sixty years now, but he still couldn’t imagine Annabelle doing that, and he suspected she was right, her mother would have a fit. She wanted Annabelle to have a far more traditional life, to get married and have children, hence her debut.

“I never wanted to be a doctor,” he confessed. “But I did want to join the circus when I was about ten or twelve.” She laughed as he said it, it was such a funny thing to admit to. “I loved the animals, and I always wanted to be a magician, so I could make my homework disappear. I wasn’t much of a student.”

“I don’t think I believe you, if you went to Harvard,” she said, still laughing at him. “I think it would have been fun to join the circus. Why didn’t you?”

“Your father offered me a job instead, although that was later. I don’t know, maybe I just didn’t have the gumption it took. But I never had ambitions like yours. Just thinking of all the years of school it would take would kill me. I’m much too lazy to be a doctor.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said kindly. “But I know I’d love it.” Her eyes shone brightly as she said it.

“Who knows, maybe someday you’ll be able to use some of what you’ve learned in books, in your volunteer work. That’s a noble pursuit.” He admired her for doing it at least.

“They don’t let you do much,” she said, looking disappointed.

“What would you like to do?” he asked with interest.

“I do very nice needlework, everyone always says so. I’d like to try stitching someone up sometime. I’m sure I could.” He looked shocked when she said it, and then smiled broadly.

“Remind me not to cut myself in front of you, or you’ll be whipping a needle and an embroidery hoop out of your pocket!”

“I would enjoy that,” she admitted, smiling impishly at him.

“Someone is going to have to keep you busy, Miss Worthington, or I get the feeling you’ll be up to mischief.”

“Medical mischief would suit me very well. Just think, if we weren’t who we are, I could go to medical school and do anything I wanted. Isn’t that annoying?” she asked, looking like a child and a woman all at once, and without thinking he hugged her, just as he would his little sister. She felt like that to him, just as she felt a bond to him almost like a brother. A nice relationship and friendship was developing between them.

“If you weren’t who you are, you couldn’t afford to go to medical school,” he said practically, and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s true. But if I were a man I could. Robert could have, if he’d wanted to, and my parents would have let him. Sometimes, it’s very difficult being a woman. There is so much you can’t do and that’s not considered proper. It’s really very boring,” she said, kicking a pebble with the toe of her shoe, and he laughed at her.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who want to fight for rights and freedom.” She didn’t seem the type to him, and it would have surprised him.

“No. I’m perfectly happy the way things are. I just wish I could be a doctor.”

“Well, I wish I could be the King of England, but that’s not going to happen either. Some things are just out of our reach, Annabelle, and we have to accept that. You have a good life as it is.”

“Yes, I do,” she agreed. “And I love my mother. I wouldn’t do anything to upset her, and that would upset her a lot.”

“Yes, it would.”

“She’s been through so much this year, and I just want to make her happy.”

“You do,” he said comfortably. “I can see it. You’re a wonderful daughter to her, and a lovely person.”

“No, she’s not,” Hortie said, as she appeared from nowhere and sidled up to them. She had come back to go swimming with Annabelle again. “She dissected a frog once. She read how to do it in a book. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. She is definitely not a lovely person.” All three of them laughed at what she said.

“I assume that’s true,” Josiah said, beginning to know Annabelle better. She was a most remarkable young woman, in many ways.

“Yes, it is,” Annabelle said proudly. “I did it just like the book told me. It was very interesting. I wish I could dissect a real person. A corpse, you know, like in medical school.”

“Oh my God,” Hortie said, looking woozy, and Josiah looked shocked but amused.

“You two had better go swimming,” he said, and shooed them off as he went up to the porch to say good-bye to Consuelo.

“What were the three of you talking about?” she asked him with interest.

“Oh the usual, parties, debuts, engagements, weddings,” he said, covering for Annabelle, knowing that her mother would faint if she thought that Annabelle wished she could dissect a cadaver. He was still laughing to himself as he walked back to his own cottage. Annabelle Worthington was certainly an interesting young woman, and not the usual nineteen-year-old girl at all.

As he got back to his own place, his college roommate was just returning from lunch, and Josiah waved as he saw him. Henry Orson was one of his oldest friends, and he enjoyed the time they spent together every summer. They had been valued friends to each other since their college days, and Henry was a man of substance, whom everyone admired.

“How was lunch?” Josiah asked him. They were both good-looking men, and had always been able to have all the women they wanted, but were responsible about it. They never led women on nor took advantage of them. Henry had been engaged two years before and had been seriously disappointed when his fiancée fell in love with a younger man, a boy her own age. And he had had no serious involvements since, which made all the Newport mothers hopeful, as they were about Josiah.

“Boring,” Henry said honestly. “How was yours?” Henry found many social gatherings tedious and preferred discussing business with other serious men to flirting with young girls.

“I had a picnic with a young lady who wants to dissect a human cadaver,” Josiah said, grinning, and Henry laughed out loud.

“Jesus,” Henry said, looking amused and impressed, and pretending to be frightened. “She sounds dangerous. Stay away from her!”

“Don’t worry,” Josiah said, laughing, as they walked into the house together, “I will.”

The two men played cards for the rest of the afternoon, while discussing the state of the financial world, which was Henry’s passion. It was a subject that made him tedious to women but interesting to men, since he was extremely knowledgeable and had an intelligent perspective, and Josiah was always happy to talk to him. He had gotten Henry a job at Annabelle’s father’s bank several years before, and he was extremely respected by his colleagues and superiors. Although less sociable than Josiah, he had done very well at the bank too. Henry had never met Annabelle or Consuelo, but Josiah promised to introduce him to them during his stay in Newport, as Henry shook his head, while frowning at his cards.

“Not if she’s going to chop me up like a cadaver,” Henry said ominously, and then smiled as he put down a winning hand.

“Damn,” Josiah said, folding, and smiled at him. “Don’t worry. She’s just a child.”

Chapter 4

Josiah visited the Worthingtons often during July and August, as did Hortie and James, and a number of other friends. Josiah introduced Henry to them, as promised, who extended his condolences to Consuelo, and taught Annabelle several new games of cards, which delighted her no end, particularly when she beat him several times. She was enjoying the company of the good friends they saw in Newport, and although they were removed from the social whirl that summer, she felt far less isolated than she did in the city. Life seemed almost normal again here, despite the absence of her father and brother, who had often stayed in the city to work anyway.

By the time they left Newport at the end of August, she looked healthy and brown and happy, and her mother looked better too. It had been an easy, peaceful summer for them, after their tragic spring.

Once back in the city, Annabelle joined her mother doing hospital work again. And she volunteered on her own one day a week at the New York Hospital for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled. They were doing extraordinary work that fascinated her. She told Josiah all about it when he came to the house in the city to have tea.

“You haven’t gotten to work on any cadavers yet, have you?” he asked, pretending to be worried, and she laughed at him.

“No, I just bring food and jugs of water to the patients, but one of the nurses said I might be able to watch a surgery one day.”

“You are a remarkable girl indeed,” he said, with a broad easy grin.

And by the end of the month, Consuelo finally had the courage to go through her husband’s and son’s things. They put some of them away, and gave away most of their clothes, but left Arthur’s study and Robert’s bedroom intact. Neither of them had the heart to take the rooms apart, and there was no reason to. They didn’t need those rooms.

They saw very little of Josiah in September, compared to his summer visits. He was busy at the bank, and they were still settling the estate. Although Arthur had no reason to think anything would happen to him, he had left his affairs in perfect order, and Annabelle and her mother were in excellent financial shape. Both of them could live easily for the rest of their lives on what he had left them, and there would still be a healthy estate to leave to Annabelle’s children one day, although it was the last thing on her mind.

Annabelle saw very little of Hortie that month too. The wedding was only six weeks away, and Hortie had a lot to do. She had fittings for her wedding gown, a trousseau to be ordered, her father had given them a house, and she and James were buying furniture for it. They were going to Europe on their honeymoon, and would be gone until Christmas, and Annabelle knew she would miss her while she was away. Once she was married, it would never be quite the same. Annabelle had seen it with other friends, and she missed Hortie already.

It was early October when Josiah finally came to visit again. Annabelle was at the Hospital for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled, and Consuelo was in the garden, enjoying a sunny afternoon with a cup of tea. She was surprised to see Josiah, but he was always welcome, and as she stood up to greet him, she looked genuinely pleased.

“We haven’t seen you in ages, Josiah. How are you?”

“Fine.” He smiled at her. “I’ve been in Boston for the past few weeks. My family had some things I needed to handle for them there. What have you and Annabelle been up to?”

“We’re fine. Annabelle’s been busy at the hospital again, but at least it keeps her occupied. There’s nothing much else for her to do here.” They had another six months in their formal mourning period, and Consuelo knew that although Annabelle never complained, it was hard on her. She hadn’t been out with her friends in six months, and it was boring for a nineteen-year-old girl. She needed to be out in the world, but there was nothing Consuelo could do.

“I know this time must seem long to both of you,” Josiah said quietly, as he sat down in the garden with her, and declined a cup of tea.

“I don’t mind it for myself, but I do mind it for her,” Consuelo admitted. “She’ll be nearly twenty before she gets out in the world again. It really doesn’t seem fair.” But what had happened to Consuelo hadn’t been fair either. Life just worked that way sometimes.

“She’ll be fine,” Josiah reassured her. “Annabelle’s the sort of person who makes the best of every situation. She’s never complained to me once about not being able to go out,” he said honestly, and her mother nodded.

“I know. She’s a dear. I’m sorry you missed her today, she’ll be disappointed. She’s always at the hospital on Monday afternoons.” He nodded, hesitating for a moment, looking pensively into space, and then back at Consuelo with a surprisingly intent look.

“I actually didn’t come to see Annabelle today. I came to see you, on a matter of business that I wanted to discuss with you privately.” He looked proper and businesslike as he said it, as though he were on a mission from the bank.

“Something about Arthur’s estate? Can’t you handle that with the lawyers, Josiah? You know how bad I am at all that. Arthur handled everything. It’s all a mystery to me.”

“No, no, everything is fine. The bank is handling it with the attorneys, and everything’s in order. This is a more private matter, and perhaps I’m premature, but I wanted to discuss it with you, and I’m hoping you’ll be discreet.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what it was as she listened to him, nor why Annabelle shouldn’t be around. For a fraction of an instant, she worried that Annabelle had been right months before, and that he was paying court to her. She hoped not. She liked him enormously, but if he had any romantic interest in her whatsoever, Consuelo was going to decline. She had no leanings in his direction, nor toward anyone else. As far as Consuelo was concerned, that chapter of her life was closed.

“I wanted to talk to you about Annabelle,” he said clearly, so that neither of them would be confused. He realized that he was much closer to Consuelo’s age than her daughter’s, but he felt no romantic spark toward Consuelo, only respect, admiration, and warm friendship. The Worthingtons had been extremely hospitable to him since Arthur’s death, and he had greatly enjoyed spending time with them. “I know you’re both in deep mourning for another six months, and that you’re concerned about her. It is a shame that she has missed this whole year since her debut, and all the opportunities that would afford. At first I thought I should say nothing to you, whatever my feelings. She’s extremely young, and I sincerely believed that she would be happiest with someone her own age. To be honest, I no longer think that’s true.

“Annabelle is a very unusual young woman in many ways, intelligent, intellectual, thirsty for knowledge, and mature beyond her years. I have no idea how you would feel about it, but I would like your permission, when your period of mourning is over, to ask for her hand in marriage, and see how she feels. If you and I remain discreet about it, and keep this to ourselves, it will give her another six months to get accustomed to me. If you agree, I would plan to continue visiting you both often. But I wanted your permission first.” Consuelo sat there staring at him. In her eyes, he was an answer to her prayers and a dream come true. She had been desperately worried about life passing Annabelle by during this year, and afraid she might wind up an old maid. And although he was nineteen years older, Consuelo thought Josiah was perfect for Annabelle.

Josiah was from an excellent family, well educated, exquisitely polite, charming, handsome, and had a very good job at Annabelle’s father’s bank. And from what she had seen, particularly over the summer, the two were becoming good friends, which Consuelo felt was a far more solid base for marriage than some starry-eyed girlish romance, which wouldn’t last anyway. This was the way she and Arthur had started out. He had been a friend of her family’s, had asked her father’s permission to court her, and they had always been friends as much as husband and wife. She couldn’t have thought of a better match for her daughter, and like Josiah, she thought Annabelle would do well with an older, more mature man. “I hope you’re not shocked, or angry,” he added cautiously, as Consuelo leaned over and gave him a motherly hug.

“No, how could I be? I’m delighted. I think you and Annabelle would be wonderful for each other.” And in her eyes, their year of mourning had not been a waste after all. It was the perfect way for the two of them to come to know each other well. And there was no distracting competition at balls and parties from silly young men to turn Annabelle’s head. Josiah was a solid, established man, and would have been a wonderful husband for anyone, particularly her daughter. And Annabelle didn’t seem to mind him, in fact she liked him very much. “Do you think she suspects anything about your intentions?” Consuelo asked candidly. She had no idea if he had wooed her or not, kissed her, courted her, or hinted at what he had in mind. Annabelle had never said anything to her mother, which made her think that she had no idea what was in Josiah’s head.

“I’ve never said anything,” he told Consuelo honestly. “I wouldn’t until I spoke to you, although I’ve been thinking about it all summer, but I thought it was too soon. And unfortunately, for the last few weeks I’ve been away. I don’t think Annabelle suspects anything. I’d like to wait to talk to her about it, until your year of mourning is over in April. Perhaps I could speak to her about it in May.” He knew she would be twenty then, and he would be thirty-nine, something of an old man to her. He was afraid she might have objections to that, but he wasn’t sure. She wasn’t flirtatious with him, but he had the feeling they had truly become good friends. And like her mother, he thought that was an excellent foundation for marriage. This was a first for him. He had never proposed to any woman before, but he hoped it wasn’t too late. And recently, he had been thinking that he would love to have children with her. She seemed like the perfect lifetime companion to him. Consuelo was absolutely thrilled.

“I couldn’t have found a better person for her, if I’d picked you myself,” Consuelo said, looking pleased, and ringing for the butler. When William appeared, she asked for two glasses of champagne. Josiah was a little startled. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

“I’m not sure we should celebrate yet. We still have to ask her, in May. She may not think it’s as great an idea as we do. She’s very young, and I’m twice her age.”

“I think she’s more sensible than that,” Consuelo said as the butler returned and handed them each a glass of champagne. Arthur had had remarkable wine cellars, and the vintage was very good. “And she likes you, Josiah. I think the two of you get on very well.”

“I think so too,” he said, looking happy, and wishing he could ask Annabelle that afternoon, but it wouldn’t be proper to propose to her so soon after Arthur and Robert’s deaths. “I hope she agrees,” Josiah said hopefully.

“That’s up to you,” Consuelo reminded him. “You have the next six months to win her heart and seal the deal.”

“Without her knowing what I’m doing,” he said cautiously.

“Maybe you could drop a little hint once in a while,” his future mother-in-law suggested, and he laughed.

“She’s too smart for that. If I start hinting, I might as well ask her. And I don’t want to scare her off by doing it too soon.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be as difficult as you think to convince her,” Consuelo said, beaming at him, in the dappled sunlight of the warm October afternoon. Thanks to him, it had been a perfect day. She was only sorry she didn’t have Arthur to share it with, and she suspected that he would have been pleased as well.

They were still chatting amiably with each other, about Josiah’s plan, when Annabelle strode into the garden with her hospital apron on. There was blood on it, and her mother made a face.

“Take that thing off,” Consuelo scolded her, “and go wash your hands. For heaven’s sake, Annabelle, you’re bringing germs into the house.” She shooed her away, and Annabelle returned five minutes later, without the apron, in her severe black dress. She looked almost like a young nun. It was a sober look, but she was wreathed in smiles when she saw Josiah, and the only thing somber about her was her dress. She seemed to be in a great mood.

“I had a terrific day,” she announced, then noticed the champagne they were drinking. She always observed everything, and never missed a detail. “Why are you two drinking champagne? What are you celebrating?”

“Josiah just came to tell me he got a promotion at the bank,” her mother replied smoothly. “They’ve given him all sorts of new accounts to handle. And I thought we should congratulate him. Would you like a glass too?” Annabelle nodded. She loved champagne, and went to get a glass herself, and then duly congratulated Josiah on his promotion, although she never found banking very exciting. It had bored her when her father and Robert talked about it too. She was far more interested in science.

“What did you do at the hospital today?” he asked her gently. He suddenly felt as though she were already his wife, and he was feeling extremely tender emotions toward her, which he couldn’t allow to show.

“Lots of interesting things,” she said, smiling openly at him, and then taking a sip of the champagne. She had no idea she was toasting her own future engagement, and knowing that made both him and Consuelo smile too. They had become co-conspirators that afternoon. “They let me watch while they sewed up a nasty wound.”

“If you tell me about it, I’ll be sick,” her mother warned, and Annabelle laughed, as they shifted the subject to something else. “You’ll have to stop doing that someday,” Consuelo said cryptically. “One day you’ll be grown up and married, and you can’t hang around hospitals, watching them sew up wounds.”

“You do,” Annabelle reminded her with a smile.

“I do not. I carry trays to patients in a far more civilized hospital, and I didn’t have time to do that when you were small. You can go back to it when you’re older.”

“I don’t see why I’d have to stop if I married,” Annabelle complained. “Lots of women have children and still work at the hospital. Besides, I might never marry. Who knows?”

“I don’t want to hear that!” her mother said, frowning, and then turned to Josiah. She could hardly wait for them to be married, and start having babies. It would be a whole new chapter in their lives, and she knew that Annabelle would be a wonderful mother. She was so patient and loving, and she thought she would make an excellent wife for Josiah.

They talked about Hortie’s wedding then, which was only weeks away. She was so busy that Annabelle hardly saw her now. And Josiah said he was going to the wedding. Annabelle quietly said she couldn’t, and then was surprised by her mother.

“I don’t see why you can’t go to the church service,” Consuelo said benevolently. “There’s nothing that says we can’t go to church. In fact, we should probably go more often. You can come home after that, and avoid the reception. But at least you could see Hortie get married. After all, she is your oldest and dearest friend.” And would probably be Annabelle’s matron of honor, Consuelo knew, when she married Josiah.

“I’d be happy to take both of you,” Josiah was quick to offer, as he turned to his future bride, who had no idea what he was thinking. It would be his first opportunity to escort her in public, and he was excited by the prospect.

“I don’t think I should go,” Consuelo said quietly. She wasn’t ready to be out in public yet. “But it would be lovely if you escort Annabelle to the service.”

“Would you like that?” he asked Annabelle directly. She smiled broadly as she nodded.

“I’d love it.” All her friends would be there. Hortie had wanted her as maid of honor, and now she couldn’t do it. This way, at least, she could be at the wedding. And it would be fun to go with Josiah, a little like going with Robert. Her brother had often escorted her to parties, although they had been small ones before her debut. And Hortie was having a gigantic wedding. Eight hundred people had been invited, and more than likely, most were coming.

“We’ll have to find you something to wear,” her mother said thoughtfully. Annabelle would have to wear a suitable black gown, and she had nothing formal in dark colors.

“It’s going to be so much fun!” Annabelle said, clapping her hands, looking like a child as her mother and Josiah smiled at her.

“It’s all going to be fun from now on,” her mother said to her with a loving look. She was so relieved by Josiah’s intended proposal.

And with that, Annabelle put her arms around Josiah’s neck and hugged him. He looked particularly delighted. “Thank you for taking me,” she said happily.

“It’s one of those sacrifices one has to make in life,” he teased her. “I’ll muddle through it.” He could hardly wait for the next six months to pass, and then, with luck, they’d be going to their own wedding. Her mother had the same thought at the same moment, and she and Josiah exchanged a knowing look over Annabelle’s head, and smiled. Annabelle didn’t know it yet, but her future was secure now. It was all her mother had ever wanted for her since she was born.

Chapter 5

Annabelle was almost as excited as Hortie herself, as she dressed for her best friend’s wedding. Her mother had called her dressmaker, and she had whipped up a beautiful black taffeta gown in record time. The bodice and hem were bordered in black velvet. And there was a matching black velvet jacket and hat trimmed in sable, which softened it as the fur lit up her face. Annabelle looked like a Russian princess. And bending the rules about no jewelry during a period of mourning, her mother had loaned her a pair of diamond earrings. She looked exquisite when Josiah came to get her. And so did he, in white tie and tails, and an elegant top hat he’d had made in Paris. They were a spectacular couple, and Consuelo had damp eyes as she watched them. She only wished that Arthur were there to see it. But if he were, perhaps it would never have happened. Josiah had only begun visiting them out of sympathy in their bereavement. So destiny took strange turns and pathways.

Consuelo had urged them to take her car, and Thomas the driver, and they drove to the wedding in the impeccable Hispano-Suiza that had been her father’s prize possession, and was only used for important occasions. As far as Consuelo was concerned, this was an event of significant proportions. It was the first time her future son-in-law would be seen in public with her only daughter. How much more important could it get, except their wedding?

She watched them lovingly as they went out the door, and then went up to her bedroom, lost in her own thoughts. She was remembering the first time she had gone out with Arthur, after he had asked her father for her hand. It had been to a friend’s coming-out ball. And she had been only a year younger than her daughter at the time.

The car drove them to St. Thomas Episcopal Church, on Fifth Avenue, and the chauffeur let Josiah out first. He turned and handed Annabelle out of the car. She was wearing her blond hair pulled back, under the velvet and sable hat, with a small face veil. She looked as stylish as any woman in Paris, and older than her years, because of the opulent black gown. Josiah had never been prouder.

“You know, for a girl who’d rather be scrubbing floors in a hospital and dissecting cadavers, you look very nice when you get dressed up,” he said lightly, and she laughed, which only made her look prettier, as her mother’s diamond earrings sparkled behind the thin veil. She looked elegant, sensual, and romantic, and Josiah was bowled over by the woman he hoped to marry. He hadn’t fully realized how truly beautiful she was, because she made so little fuss about herself, and while in mourning she never wore fancy clothes or makeup. He had been at her coming-out ball the year before, but even then she hadn’t looked this pretty. She had grown into her womanhood in the year since then.

An usher in white tie and tails escorted them to a pew near the front on the bride’s side of the church. They had been expected, and Josiah noticed people looking at them with quiet admiration. They made a very dashing couple. Annabelle was oblivious to it, dazzled by the absolute forest of white orchids that Hortie’s mother had ordered. Annabelle had seen the gown, and knew that Hortie was going to look gorgeous in it. She had a terrific figure. The gown was low-cut white satin, covered with white lace, with a train that would stretch out for miles behind her. There were sixteen bridesmaids in pale gray satin gowns, carrying tiny orchids. It was a very stylish wedding, and Hortie was going to carry a huge ball of lily of the valley.

They took their seats as Annabelle looked around. She knew everyone in the pews ahead of and behind them, and Josiah knew most of them as well. People smiled and made little gestures of greeting. They looked interested to see her with Josiah, and he noticed then that her mother had let her wear lipstick. In his opinion there was no more beautiful woman in the church than Annabelle as she sat beside him, including the bride as she came down the aisle, to Wagner’s Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin.

All eyes were on Hortie, and her father had never looked prouder. It was then that Annabelle realized that on her own wedding day there would be no one to walk her down the aisle, neither her father, nor her brother. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes, and seeing that, Josiah gently patted her arm. He had a feeling that was what she was thinking. He was developing good instincts about her, and getting to know her well. And although he hadn’t been in her life for long, he was beginning to love her. He enjoyed sitting through the church service with her. Everything went smoothly, and when the bride and groom walked back down the aisle after the ceremony, to Mendelssohn, everyone was beaming. All sixteen bridesmaids and an equal number of groomsmen walked out solemnly behind them, including a five-year-old ring bearer, and a three-year-old flower girl in a white organdy dress, who forgot to strew the rose petals and just clutched them in her hand.

Annabelle and Josiah greeted friends in the throng of people in the vestibule of the church. They passed through the receiving line to congratulate the bride and groom and both sets of parents, and finally, an hour after the ceremony, everyone left the church for the reception. Annabelle wished she could go with them, she knew it was going to be a fabulous party that would go on all night, but there was no question of it for her. Josiah rode home with her in the car, and walked her into the house, as Annabelle thanked him for going with her.

“I had a wonderful time,” she said, looking ecstatic. It had been fun to catch a glimpse of all her friends, and even meet some of Josiah’s who were, of course, much older than she was, but seemed very nice.

“So did I,” he said honestly. He had been so proud to be with her. She was such a beautiful young woman.

“You should hurry, so you’re not late to the reception,” she said, as she took off her hat, kissed his cheek, and shooed him toward the door. She looked even prettier without the veil, and her mother’s earrings were blinding.

“I’m in no rush,” he said easily. “I declined the reception.” He was smiling at her.

“You did?” She looked startled. “Why? It’s going to be the wedding of the year.” Hortie’s parents had gone all out, and she didn’t want Josiah to miss it. It didn’t occur to her why he had declined.

“I’ve been to a lot of weddings of the year.” He laughed, and added, “For a lot of years. There are always others. Why would I go to the reception, when you can’t? That doesn’t seem right to me. The church service was fine. We saw lots of people. I can go to parties anytime. Why don’t we go down to the kitchen and make something to eat? I make a terrific sandwich and a mean omelette.” Neither of them had eaten dinner. The staff had disappeared for the night, and her mother was upstairs in her room, probably asleep.

“Are you serious? Don’t you think you should go to the reception?” she pressed. She felt guilty for keeping him from going.

“It would be pretty strange if I showed up after I declined.” He laughed again. “They’d think I was out of my mind, and I wouldn’t have a seat. So let’s check out what’s in your icebox, and I’ll dazzle you with my culinary skills.”

“In that suit?” He was wearing white tie and tails, with handsome mother of pearl and diamond studs and cuff links.

“I might take off the jacket, if you won’t be too shocked.” He had on the traditional white piqué tie and vest, also with studs in the vest, all of which he’d had made in Paris with the top hat. He was a very handsome vision, and a perfect match for her.

“I won’t be shocked. I’ll take off my jacket too,” she said, taking off the sable-trimmed velvet jacket that matched her dress, and exposing creamy white shoulders, and a well-shaped bosom that he glanced at discreetly.

“That’s quite a dress,” he said, smiling at her in admiration.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said shyly. The evening suddenly felt very grown-up to her. Her debut ball was the only event of its kind she had ever attended. And she had very much enjoyed going to the wedding with Josiah at her side.

Annabelle led him down to the kitchen and turned on the lights. Everything was immaculate and had been left in perfect order. They checked the icebox and found eggs, butter, cooked vegetables, half a turkey, and some ham. She took most of it out and set it on the kitchen table. And then she found lettuce, and some fresh vegetables in the larder.

She set the table with the kitchen plates, in her evening gown, as Josiah took off his tailcoat and made dinner. He sliced the ham and turkey finely, made a salad, and cooked an excellent cheese omelette in a skillet. It was a delicious meal, as they sat at the kitchen table and chatted, and commented on who they’d seen. He told her little bits of gossip about some of the people she’d met, and she filled him in on some of her friends. It was a lively exchange, and they sat talking long after they finished the meal. She didn’t have the key to the wine cellar, and he said he was delighted with a glass of milk. It was the nicest evening Annabelle had had in years.

They talked about the holidays, and he said he was going to Boston to be with his family for Thanksgiving, but said he would be in New York for Christmas. She reminded herself to ask her mother if they could invite him to Christmas dinner. It was going to be a tough one for them that year. It was hard to believe that a year after her ball their life had changed so dramatically, and she said as much to him.

“You never know in life,” he said quietly. “You have to be grateful for what you have, for as long as you have it. Fate is unpredictable, and sometimes we don’t know how blessed we are until things change.”

She nodded and looked at him sadly. “I knew how blessed we were, and so did my mother. We all did. I always felt lucky to have the parents and brother that I did. I just can’t believe they’re gone,” she said quietly, and as he looked at her, he gently put a hand over hers.

“Sometimes Fate ushers some people out, and when we least expect it, others enter. You just have to believe that things will continue to be good from now on. Your life is just beginning.”

She nodded again. “But for my mother, it’s over. I don’t think she’ll ever recover.” Annabelle worried about her a great deal.

“You don’t know that,” he said gently. “Good things can happen to her too.”

“I hope so,” Annabelle said softly, and thanked him for the meal. It had been a lovely evening. He helped her put the dishes in the sink, and then she turned to him with a smile, their friendship blossoming between them. “You’re a pretty good cook.”

“Wait until you taste my soufflés. I also make the stuffing at Thanksgiving,” he said proudly.

“How did you ever learn to cook?” She looked amused. None of the men in her family had ever cooked, she wasn’t even sure they knew how to find the kitchen.

He laughed in answer. “If you stay single as long as I have, you either starve or learn to feed yourself. Or go out every night, which gets exhausting. A lot of the time, I’d rather stay home and cook.”

“Me too, about the stay-at-home part. But I’m not much of a cook.”

“You don’t need to be,” he reminded her, and she looked momentarily embarrassed. She had been waited on all her life. But so had he.

“I should still learn one of these days. Maybe I will.” She had been impressed by how competent and organized he was in the kitchen.

“I can teach you a few tricks,” he volunteered, and she liked the idea.

“That sounds like fun,” she said, looking enthusiastic. She always had a good time with him.

“Just think of it as science, that will make it easier for you.” She laughed as she turned off the lights and he followed her back up the stairs. They went through two doors, and came back out in the main hall, under the chandelier. He was carrying his tailcoat, and his top hat and gloves were on the hall table. He picked them up, slipped into his tailcoat, and put the hat back on his head. He looked as elegant as ever, and no one would have suspected that he had cooked dinner.

“You look very dashing, Mr. Millbank. I had a wonderful time with you tonight.”

“Me too,” he said, and kissed her chastely on the cheek. He didn’t want to rush her, they had months still ahead of them as just friends, despite her mother’s blessing. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for going to Hortie’s wedding with me, Annabelle. Those things can be deadly boring, unless you have someone fun to go with.”

“I think so too,” she agreed. “And the best part was talking about it in the kitchen afterward.” She giggled, and he smiled too.

“Goodnight, Annabelle,” he said, opening the door, and turned to look at her before he closed it behind him. She picked her jacket up off the chair, stuck her hat back on her head at a crazy angle, and walked up the stairs to her bedroom with a smile and an enormous yawn. She had had an excellent time, and was so glad that she and Josiah were friends.

Chapter 6

Much to Consuelo’s delight, at Annabelle’s urging, they invited Josiah to dinner on Christmas Eve. It wasn’t a romantic move on Annabelle’s part, she just felt that he had been so nice to them that they should do something for him in return, since he was alone for Christmas. As they always did, they had Christmas Eve dinner in white tie. Annabelle and her mother wore evening gowns, and as directed, Josiah arrived in a well-cut tailcoat with an immaculately starched shirt and vest, with beautiful old pearl and diamond studs and cuff links that had been his grandfather’s. And he touched them both by bringing presents.

Annabelle had bought a cashmere scarf for Josiah, and a cookbook partly as a joke, but he said he loved it. And Annabelle was embarrassed to discover that he had bought her a beautiful gold bracelet at Tiffany, and a handsome black silk scarf for her mother.

They shared a lovely, warm evening together, and sat in front of the fireplace after dinner. Josiah drank brandy, while the two ladies drank eggnog laced with rum, from a recipe Arthur had always made, and they admired the tree that Consuelo and Annabelle had decorated. It was a difficult Christmas for them that year, understandably, and Josiah avoided the topic of the current hearings that were in the news about the Titanic. He knew that whatever happened, they wouldn’t want to hear it. It would change nothing for them now.

Annabelle announced to them that Hortie had gotten back from their honeymoon that afternoon, and had rushed over to tell her she was already pregnant. Hortie was certain of it and said that she and James were thrilled, although she found the prospect a little scary. She had just barely become a wife, and now was going to be a mother, sometime in late August, as closely as she could figure it. Hortie said the baby had been conceived in Paris, and then she had giggled mysteriously, like the little girl she still was despite her new status, and made all kinds of innuendoes about their sex life that Annabelle didn’t want to hear. Hortie said that sex was fabulous, and James was incredible in bed, not that she had any frame of reference, but she had never had so much fun in all her life. Annabelle didn’t mention any of that to her mother or Josiah, but just said that Hortie was having a baby and was very excited about it. Listening to the news, Consuelo hoped that the following Christmas Annabelle and Josiah would have the same kind of news to share, providing they were married by then, which she hoped fervently they would be. Consuelo couldn’t see the point of a long engagement once they announced it.

Before he left that night Josiah said he was going skiing in Vermont over New Year’s with his old classmate, Henry Orson. As they were the last single men left at their age, according to him, he said it was nice to still have someone to do things with. Their New Year ski trip to Woodstock was a tradition they engaged in every year, and he was particularly looking forward to it this year, with a new ski jump recently added to the toboggan run. Josiah asked if Annabelle knew how to ski or snowshoe. She said she didn’t, but would love to learn. A veiled look passed between him and Consuelo, and he promised to teach her sometime. He suggested that maybe he, Annabelle, and her mother could take a trip to Vermont together. Annabelle’s eyes lit up, and she said it sounded like a lot of fun. He said they had wonderful sleigh rides in Woodstock too.

Josiah stayed till after midnight, and after he thanked them again for the presents and the delicious meal, Consuelo mysteriously disappeared while the two young people said goodnight. Annabelle thanked him profusely again for her bracelet, which she loved, and which was already on her arm.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said warmly. “I know you’re not supposed to wear jewelry right now, but if your mother objects, maybe you can wear it later.” He hadn’t wanted to offend Consuelo by giving Annabelle a bracelet while they were in mourning, but he had wanted to give her something that she’d enjoy for a long time. And he didn’t want to give her anything too lavish, or she might suspect what he had in mind. He thought the simple gold bracelet was discreet, and Annabelle was thrilled with it.

“Have a good time skiing,” she said as she walked him to the door. He was wearing an impeccably cut black coat and a white silk scarf over his tuxedo, with a homburg. As always, he looked extremely elegant. And Annabelle looked pretty and young in her simple black evening gown.

“I’ll call you when I get back,” he promised. “It will be after the first.” He kissed her chastely on the cheek, and she did the same, as they said good-bye.

Annabelle found her mother in the library, thumbing through a book. It was one of her father’s that Annabelle had read before.

“Why did you come in here?” Annabelle asked, looking surprised. Her mother wasn’t much of a reader, and she turned to her daughter with a gentle smile.

“I thought you and Josiah might like to be alone to say goodnight.” There was a deeper meaning in her eyes, and Annabelle looked momentarily annoyed.

“Josiah? Don’t be silly, Mama. We’re just friends. Don’t start getting ideas about him. It would spoil everything. I love the friendship that we have.”

“What if he wanted more?” Consuelo asked cryptically, and her daughter frowned.

“He doesn’t. And neither do I. We like it just the way it is. Just because Hortie got married and is having a baby doesn’t mean I have to. I can’t even go out for another four months. So I’m not going to meet anyone for a while, and who knows if I’ll ever meet someone I like and want to marry.” She sighed and put her arms around her mother. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Mama?” she asked gently.

“Of course not, I just want you to be happy. And nothing makes a woman happier than a husband and a child. Ask Hortie. I’ll bet she can’t wait to have that baby in her arms.”

“She sounds pretty happy,” Annabelle admitted with a shy smile. “She was trying to tell me all about her honeymoon. It sounds like they had a lovely time.” Mostly in bed, but she didn’t say that to her mother, she didn’t even want to know it herself.

“When is the baby due?”

“End of August, I think. She’s not sure. She says it happened in Paris, and James is thrilled too. He wants a boy.”

“All men do. But the ones they fall in love with are their girls. Your father did the minute he saw you.” They both smiled at the memory. It had been a hard Christmas Eve for both of them, but having Josiah there had helped. Everything was easier and more pleasant when he was around.

Arm in arm, they walked up the stairs to their rooms, and they exchanged presents the next day. Her mother had bought her a magnificent fur coat, and Annabelle had gotten her mother a pair of sapphire earrings at Cartier. She had tried to get her the kind of gift her father would have given her, on a slightly more modest scale. He always bought wonderful gifts for all of them. And she wanted to somehow make it up to her mother this year, although she knew that she couldn’t make up for all that they had lost. But her mother was deeply touched by the gesture, and the beauty of her daughter’s gift, and put them on immediately.

They went downstairs together, and had a big breakfast cooked by Blanche. It had snowed during the night, and there was a blanket of white covering the garden. After breakfast, they dressed and went out for a walk in the park. It was going to be difficult for them to fill the day alone. They had lost half of their family, and on holidays like this, the absence of Arthur and Robert was sorely felt.

In the end, the day was less painful than they had feared. They had both dreaded it so much, and had tried to keep busy. Consuelo and Annabelle had lunch together, played cards that afternoon, and by dinnertime they were both tired, and ready for bed. They had gotten through it, that was the main thing, and as she undressed that night, Annabelle found herself thinking of Josiah in Vermont. She wondered if he and Henry had gotten there safely and were having fun. She would have loved to go skiing with them sometime, as he had suggested. It sounded like fun to her. And she hoped she got a chance to, maybe next year, if she could talk her mother into going.

The rest of the holiday was easier than Christmas. Annabelle spent some time with Hortie, and all her friend talked about now was the baby, just as she had talked about nothing but the wedding for six months before. She had little else on her mind or to keep her busy. Consuelo congratulated her when she saw her, and Hortie rattled on for half an hour about Paris, and all the clothes she’d bought, which very soon she would no longer be able to wear. She said they would still go to Newport that summer, and if she had the baby there, it was fine with her. She was going to have it at home anyway, in Newport or New York. Listening to her talk to Consuelo about it, Annabelle felt left out of the conversation. She had nothing to contribute. Hortie had turned into a married woman and mother overnight. But Annabelle still loved her friend, boring or not. Hortie had brought her a beautiful sweater from Paris, with pearl buttons. It was the palest pink, and Annabelle couldn’t wait to wear it that summer.

“I didn’t want to buy you a black one,” Hortie said apologetically. “It’s too grim, and you can wear it pretty soon. I hope that’s all right.”

“I love it!” Annabelle reassured her, and meant it. It had a beautiful lace collar, and it was the subtlest powder pink. It looked wonderful with Annabelle’s skin and hair.

The two young women had lunch together several times that week, and felt very grown-up going to the Astor Court at the St. Regis Hotel. Hortie was taking her new status very seriously, dressed up, wearing the jewelry James had given her, and looked very grand. When they went to lunch, Annabelle wore the new fur coat her mother had given her for Christmas. And she felt a little like she was playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. She was wearing Josiah’s bracelet on her arm.

“Where did you get that?” Hortie asked when she noticed it. “I like it.”

“So do I,” Annabelle said simply. “Josiah Millbank gave it to me for Christmas. It was very nice of him. He gave Mama a scarf.”

“You two looked great together at my wedding.” And then suddenly Hortie’s eyes lit up, as she had an idea. “What about him?”

“What about him?” Annabelle looked blank.

“For you, I mean. You know, as a husband.” Annabelle laughed in response.

“Don’t be stupid, Hort. He’s twice my age. You sound like Mama. I swear, she’d marry me off to the milkman if she could.”

“Is the milkman cute?” Hortie was laughing at the thought.

“No. He’s about a hundred years old and has no teeth.”

“Seriously, why not Josiah? He likes you. He’s always hanging around.”

“We’re just friends. We like it that way. Getting mushy about it would mess everything up.”

“That’s a very nice bracelet to give to just a friend.”

“It’s only a present, not a proposal. He came to dinner on Christmas Eve. It was so sad this year,” she said, changing the subject.

“I know,” Hortie said sympathetically, forgetting about Josiah for the moment. “I’m sorry, Belle, it must be awful.” Annabelle only nodded, and they moved on to other topics, mostly clothes. Hortie couldn’t imagine what she’d wear when she got bigger. She was planning to go to her mother’s dressmaker to figure it out in the next few weeks. She said her waistband was already getting tight, and her corset was killing her. And she swore her breasts had doubled in size.

“Maybe you’re having twins,” Annabelle suggested with a smile.

“Wouldn’t that be funny?” Hortie said, laughing. She couldn’t begin to envision what that entailed, and it was all one big thrill for her right now.

She was a little less thrilled two weeks later, when she started to get nauseous. And for the next two months, she hardly got out of bed. She felt awful. It was the middle of March before she felt decent again. Until then, Annabelle had to visit her, since Hortie wouldn’t go out. Hortie hadn’t been to a party since Christmas, and she wasn’t nearly as delighted with her pregnancy as she’d been before. She felt fat and sick most of the time, and she said it was no fun at all. Annabelle felt sorry for her, and brought her books and flowers, and magazines to look at. It became her main mission in life to cheer Hortie up. And then finally, in April, Hortie got out of bed. She looked obviously pregnant by then, and she was already five months. All the women in her family said it was only one baby, but she was huge, and her mother said it was going to be a boy.

It was Hortie’s only topic of conversation, and most of the time, she just lay there and complained. She said she felt like a whale. And she said that James hardly made love to her anymore, which was really disappointing. He went out with his friends most nights alone, and promised her that when the baby came, they’d make up for it and go out all the time. But her mother reminded her that she’d be nursing then and even if she wasn’t, she’d still have a baby to take care of. So being grown-up didn’t seem like so much fun after all. Annabelle was infinitely patient, listening to her whine and moan, and now Hortie cried all the time too.

Consuelo had planned a service for the anniversary of Arthur and Robert’s deaths that month. It was held at Trinity Church again, with a luncheon afterward at the house. All her father’s close friends were there, and several cousins including Madeleine Astor, whose late husband was Consuelo’s cousin, and Josiah came, of course, as well as everyone from the bank, including Henry Orson.

Josiah had been at the house a lot in recent months, always helpful, always pleasant, always with a joke or a smile, or a little present. He had bought Annabelle a series of medical books, which she loved, and Gray’s Anatomy. Other than Hortie, he had become her best friend in the world, and he was better company now since he wasn’t pregnant, and feeling sorry for himself all the time. Annabelle always had a good time with him, and lately he had started taking her to nice restaurants for dinner. Once the anniversary date was behind them, she was looking forward to going to social events with him. She hadn’t been anywhere, other than Hortie’s wedding, for over a year. Before the sinking of the Titanic, her parents had been gone for two months, and she’d been sick for a month before that, so she hadn’t gone out socially in fifteen months. At her age, that was a long time.

She was turning twenty in May. And two weeks after the church service for her father and brother, Josiah invited her to what promised to be a very fancy dinner at Delmonico’s, where Annabelle had never dined, and she could hardly wait. She bought a new dress for the occasion, and her mother did her hair. Consuelo suspected what was coming, and for both their sakes, she hoped it would go well.

Josiah came to pick her up at seven. He had his own car this time, and the minute he saw Annabelle in the new dress, he whistled. It was a delicately pleated ivory silk that showed off her shoulders, and she was wearing a white silk shawl. It was in sharp contrast to the dismal black she’d been wearing for so long. Her mother was still dressed in mourning and had said that she didn’t feel ready to give it up yet. Annabelle was afraid she never would. But she had been grateful to put her own black dresses away. It was time.

They got to the elegant restaurant at seven-thirty, and were shown to a quiet corner table. It felt so exciting to be out, and to have dinner with Josiah. Even more so than she had with Hortie, she felt terribly grown-up as she sat across the table from him and took off her shawl. She was still wearing the gold bracelet he had given her for Christmas. She never took it off.

The waiter asked her if she’d like a cocktail, and she nervously declined. Her mother had warned her not to have too much to drink, except some wine. It wouldn’t make a good impression, she’d said to her daughter, if Annabelle got drunk at dinner. She had laughed at the prospect and told her mother not to worry. Josiah ordered a scotch and soda, which startled Annabelle. She had never seen him drink hard liquor before, and wondered if he was nervous too, though she couldn’t imagine why, since they were such good friends.

“Would you like some champagne?” he offered when his drink came.

“No, I’m fine,” and then she giggled. “My mother told me not to get drunk and embarrass you.” He laughed too. There was nothing they couldn’t say to each other. They discussed a thousand topics of interest, and they enjoyed each other’s company. They both ordered the restaurant’s famous Lobster Newburg, and Baked Alaska for dessert.

They had a lovely evening with each other, and with dessert, Josiah ordered champagne for both of them. The waiter brought the bottle to the table and opened it for them, and Annabelle smiled as she took a sip. She had only had one glass of wine with dinner, so her mother’s warning had stood her in good stead.

“That’s delicious,” Annabelle commented. He had ordered a particularly fine bottle. Josiah had had more to drink than she had, but he was still sober too. He wanted to keep his wits about him for what he had to say. He had been saving it for a long time, and the day had finally come. He had butterflies in his stomach, as he smiled and toasted her.

“To you, Miss Worthington, and the wonderful friend you’ve become,” he complimented her, and she smiled.

“So have you,” she said gently, taking another sip of champagne. She didn’t have the faintest inkling of what he had in mind. He could see it on her face. She was innocence itself.

“I have a wonderful time with you, Annabelle,” he said simply, and it was true.

“Me too,” she echoed. “We always have a lot of fun.” She started to talk about the medical books he’d given her then, and he gently cut her off, as she looked surprised. He usually let her rattle off for hours about what she’d learned in those books.

“I have something to say to you.” She looked at him blankly, wondering what it was. She hoped nothing was wrong. “I’ve waited a long time to say this. I didn’t think it would be right to say it before April, because of the anniversary. And your birthday is coming up soon. So here we are.”

“Are we celebrating something?” she asked naïvely, feeling a slight buzz from the champagne.

“I hope so,” he said softly. “That depends on you. It’s up to you to decide. What I’ve wanted to tell you since last summer is that I’m in love with you. I don’t mean to upset the applecart of our friendship, or to startle you. But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, Annabelle. I think we’re wonderful together, and I can’t stay single forever. I’ve never met a woman who made me want to settle down. But I can’t think of a better foundation for doing that than being best friends, which we are. So I would like to ask you to do me the honor of marrying me, if you will.” As he said the words, he saw Annabelle staring at him in complete amazement. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were wide.

“Are you serious?” she asked him when she finally caught her breath.

He nodded. “Yes, I am. I know this comes as a surprise to you, and you can think about it if you need to. Annabelle, I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He couldn’t tell if she was happy or angry. Most of all, she looked shocked.

“I thought I should wait until now.” She nodded. It was proper and made sense. And Josiah always did the right thing. It was one of the things she loved about him. She was still staring at him in disbelief. “Are you upset?” he asked, looking worried, and she shook her head. There were tears in her eyes when she looked at him.

“No, of course not. I’m very touched,” she said, reaching out to take his hand.

“I know I’m a lot older than you are. I could be your father. But I don’t want to be. I want to be your husband, and I promise I’ll take good care of you forever.”

She believed that as she listened to him, and then wondered, “Does my mother know?” It explained her occasional discreet suggestions about Josiah, all of which Annabelle had brushed off.

“I asked her permission in October, and she said yes. I think she believes it would be a good thing for both of us.”

“So do I,” Annabelle whispered with a shy smile. “I just never expected this to happen. I thought we were just friends.”

“We still are,” he replied, smiling too. “And if you accept, we always will be. I think a husband and wife should be best friends, along with everything else. I would like to share children with you, and the rest of my life. And I will always, always be your friend.”

“So would I,” she said, looking misty. And the thought of having children with him shocked her a little, but touched her heart. As she listened to him, she tried not to think about all the antics Hortie had described in Paris. What she shared with Josiah seemed so much more pure. She hated to spoil that. But Hortie had always been a little crazy, and now that she’d discovered sex, she’d gotten worse. The only thing that was slowing her down now was getting fatter day by day.

“Would you like some time to think about it? I know this came as a surprise. I’ve been biting my tongue for a long time.” And then he laughed. “That’s why I had a scotch, and half a bottle of wine tonight, and now champagne. I guess your mother should have warned me not to get drunk. It took a little courage to ask. I wasn’t sure if you’d slug me or say yes.”

“Are those my two choices?” she asked, reaching for his other hand. She was already holding one. “Slug you or say yes?”

“Essentially.” He smiled at her, and squeezed both of her hands in his own.

“It’s simple then. The answer is yes. If I slug you, it would make a terrible mess. They might throw us out of the restaurant. And you might not be my best friend anymore.”

“Yes, I would.” And then he asked her the same question she had inquired of him when he first proposed. “Are you serious?” He was referring to her timid “yes.” It was gentle, but heartfelt.

“Yes, I am. I never thought of us that way before. And whenever my mother suggested it, I thought she was insane. But now that I think about it, there’s no one else on earth I’d want to marry. Except Hortie maybe, but she can be such a pain in the neck. So if I’m going to marry my best friend, I’d rather marry you.” They were both laughing while she explained.

“Have I told you that I love you?” he asked her.

“I think you did. But you can always say it again,” she said primly, with an enchanting little smile.

“I love you, Annabelle.”

“I love you too, Josiah. I love you very, very much. I guess this is the best way to protect our friendship forever.” And then as she said it, he saw her eyes fill with tears, and her lip quiver, and he could see she was upset.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“I wish I could tell Robert and my father. This is the most important thing that’s ever happened to me, and I have no one to tell. My mother already knows. And who will walk me down the aisle?” As she said it, tears rolled down her cheeks.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said gently, as he wiped her tears away with his hand. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I know,” she said. She felt absolutely certain that with Josiah she would always be in good hands. Suddenly, it made perfect sense to her, although it never had before. But now it was his idea, and her own, not someone else’s crazy suggestion that made no sense. Now it all did. “When do you want to do it?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to you. I’m at your disposal from today on. We can get married whenever you want.”

“What about in Newport this summer?” she said, looking pensive. “In the garden. That would be less formal than a church.” And there would be no aisle, which was so upsetting to her now. She had no uncles to walk her down the aisle, no one to stand in for her father or brother. There was no one at all. She’d have to walk down the aisle all by herself. “Maybe we could do the actual wedding very small, and have a big party later. With Daddy and Robert gone, it doesn’t feel right to do a big wedding, and I think it would be too hard on my mother. What about Newport in August?”

“Sounds great to me.” He beamed at her. Things were going even better than he’d planned, or dared to hope since last October. “Does that give you enough time to organize a wedding?”

“I think so. I don’t want a wedding like Hortie’s. And she’s the only bridesmaid I want, and she’ll be nine months pregnant.”

“I’d say that sounds more like a matron of honor,” he teased her. They both knew that most people would be shocked to see her out socially in that condition.

“She says she might have the baby in Newport,” Annabelle added.

“Maybe she could have it at the wedding.” He chuckled. He had a feeling that with Annabelle, life was going to be interesting forever.

“Can I still do my volunteer work at the hospital?” Annabelle asked, looking worried.

“You can do anything you want,” he said simply, smiling at her.

“My mother said I’d have to stop when I got married.”

“You don’t have to stop for me, except maybe when you’re expecting. It might be a good idea to give it up for a while then.” She could tell just listening to him that he was going to be reasonable, and always there to protect her. It seemed like the ideal marriage to her, and she couldn’t imagine why she’d never thought of it herself before. She liked everything he said, and always had.

They chatted for a while longer about their plans. His mother had been dead for years, and his father was remarried to a woman Josiah didn’t particularly like, but he thought they should invite them, and his half-sister with her husband. He had two uncles, and a brother. His brother lived in Chicago, and Josiah wasn’t sure if he would come. He said his brother was a little eccentric. So he didn’t think they’d be overrun by his family, and all she had now was her mother, and a wide assortment of distant cousins. She said she’d like to keep it below a hundred, maybe even fifty. And her mother could give them a big party in the city in the fall, which sounded great to him. He liked the idea of keeping their wedding personal and private, as a special moment just for them, and not a cast of thousands. He had never wanted a big wedding, and until now none at all.

“Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?” he asked happily. August was just around the corner.

“Anywhere we don’t have to take a boat to get to. I don’t think I could do that to my mother, and I’m not sure I’d want to either.”

“We’ll figure it out. Maybe California or somewhere in the Rockies. Or Canada, or maybe even Maine. New England is beautiful that time of year.”

“I don’t care where we go, Josiah,” she said honestly, “just so I’m with you.” It was exactly how he felt about her. He signaled for the waiter then and paid the check. Everything had gone perfectly and he had apologized to her for not having a ring yet. He had been nervous about choosing the right one.

He drove her home, and her mother was still up when they got there. Knowing what was happening, she had been too excited to go to sleep. She looked at them expectantly as they came through the door, and they were both beaming.

“Do I have a son-in-law?” she asked in barely more than a whisper.

“You will in August,” Josiah said proudly, with an arm around his brand-new fiancée’s shoulders.

“In Newport,” Annabelle added, smiling ecstatically up at him.

“Oh my Lord, a wedding in Newport in August, with only three months to arrange it. You two don’t fool around, do you?”

“We only want a small wedding, Mama,” Annabelle said softly, and her mother understood why. Hearing that was a great relief to her too.

“You can have anything you want,” she said generously.

“We really only want about fifty or sixty people, a hundred if we have to, in the garden.”

“Your wish is my command,” Consuelo said gamely, wishing she could call the florist and the caterer at that very moment. Instead she walked up to Josiah and hugged him, and kissed her daughter. “I’m so happy for you both. I think you’re going to be very happy.”

“So do we,” they said in unison, and then all three of them laughed. Consuelo insisted on pouring each of them a glass of champagne, and then suddenly Annabelle remembered the day in October she had come home from the hospital to find her mother and Josiah drinking champagne in the garden.

“Did you really get a promotion that day?” Annabelle asked him, as her mother served their champagne.

“No, I got you, or your mother’s permission. I told her I wanted to wait until May to ask you.”

“You sneaky people,” she laughed, as Consuelo toasted them.

“May you be as happy as Arthur and I were, may you live long and happy lives, and have a dozen children.” Both Annabelle and Josiah raised their glasses and took a sip, and then Annabelle reached out to her mother and hugged her tightly. She knew that in some ways this was hard for her too. They all missed her father and brother so much. “I love you, Mama,” Annabelle said softly, as Consuelo held her close.

“I love you too, sweetheart. And I’m so happy for you. And I know that wherever your father and Robert are, they are too.”

Both women wiped their eyes, as Josiah cleared his throat and turned away, so they wouldn’t see that he was crying too. It was truly the happiest night of his life.

Chapter 7

For the next several weeks, Consuelo was insanely busy. She had to organize the caterers and florist in Newport, speak to the minister, hire the musicians. She had already decided to open the house in June. Josiah’s father had agreed to host the rehearsal dinner, and was planning to hold it at the Newport Country Club.

Consuelo also had to order invitations. Annabelle needed a wedding dress, and a trousseau. There were a million details to plan and organize, and it was the happiest Consuelo had been in a year. She was sorry that Annabelle wouldn’t have her father there to see it, and Consuelo wanted to make it even more beautiful for Annabelle, to make up for it.

Their engagement was announced in the New York Herald the day before Annabelle’s birthday and the following day Josiah presented her with her engagement ring. It was a ten-carat diamond that had been his mother’s. And it looked spectacular on Annabelle’s hand. He had decided that his mother’s ring was more meaningful than a new one, and Annabelle loved it. She and her mother were already looking for wedding gowns by then. And by sheer luck, they found the perfect one at B. Altman’s on the first of June. It was a slim gown of exquisite French lace, modeled after a Patou design, and just simple enough not to look out of place at a garden wedding in Newport. It had a long graceful train, and an enormous cloud of veil. Annabelle looked magnificent in it. And when she talked to Hortie about being her matron of honor, her old friend screamed.

“Are you insane? You can’t get married until after I have the baby. If your mother is ordering a tent, she’d better order a second one for me. It’s the only thing I can wear.”

“I don’t care how you look or what anyone says,” Annabelle insisted. “I just want you to be there for me.” It was still a sore subject for her and her mother, but she had decided to walk down the aisle alone.

“I’m not even supposed to go out in public once I’m that pregnant. All the old biddies in Newport will talk about me for years.” Annabelle was well aware of that too, and Hortie was nearly in tears.

“Who cares? I love you, however you look. And we don’t want to wait. August is perfect for us,” Annabelle pleaded with her.

“I hate you. Maybe I can swim a lot and have the baby before. But I’ll still be fat.” When she realized that Annabelle couldn’t be convinced to postpone her wedding for her, Hortie finally gave up, and promised that come hell or high water, she’d be there. It was the week before her due date, and she almost hit Annabelle when she suggested that maybe the baby would be late. She wanted it to come early. She was tired of feeling ugly and fat.

Annabelle and Hortie went shopping together, to look for items for her trousseau. And Annabelle and Josiah still had to figure out where to live. Josiah had a very respectable small summer house in Newport that he’d inherited from his mother, but his apartment in New York would be too small for them once they had children. They agreed to look for a bigger one after they got back from Wyoming, which they had chosen for their honeymoon. It was just too frantic trying to find a new place to live now. For the time being, his apartment was big enough for the two of them. And it was close to where her mother lived, which Annabelle liked. She hated to move out and leave her alone. She knew only too well how lonely she would be.

But for the moment, Consuelo was too busy to be lonely. She took two trips up to Newport to start planning the wedding and tell the gardener what she wanted planted. And they had managed to find a tent the perfect size, left over from a wedding the year before.

And much to Annabelle and Josiah’s amazement, by the end of June, all the details were attended to and in place. Consuelo was a model of efficiency, and she wanted Annabelle to have the perfect wedding. Josiah was adorable throughout. He showed no sign of jitters or nerves, despite his long wait to get married at thirty-nine. Once he made up his mind, he was ready and completely calm about it. Even more so than his bride.

As soon as the announcement came out in the Herald, they were invited everywhere, and were out almost every night. They made a striking couple, and only two of Consuelo’s friends made unpleasant comments that they thought Josiah was too old for Annabelle. Consuelo assured them that he was just right. Her own cousin, John Jacob Astor, in his forties, had married Madeleine at eighteen. Josiah was proving daily that he was the perfect husband for her. And Annabelle even managed to continue her volunteer work, with his blessing, until the end of June. She took a leave from it then until the fall.

The only thing Consuelo wanted from them, and she said it regularly, was grandchildren as soon as possible. Annabelle thought that if she heard her say it once more she would scream.

And Hortie couldn’t stop talking about the surprises Annabelle had in store for her, and how great the sex would be. It unnerved her to hear all the unwanted advice her old friend gave her, as she got bigger every day. Hortie was huge, and Annabelle hoped that when she got pregnant, she wouldn’t look like her. She said as much to Josiah one day, and he laughed.

“You’ll be beautiful when that happens, Annabelle, and our babies will be too.” He kissed her gently. They had so much to look forward to, and for the next two months so much to do.

It seemed as though everyone Josiah had ever known wanted to give them a celebration. At the age of thirty-nine, he was finally getting married. Henry Orson gave a bachelor party for him. The entire group had hangovers afterward for three days. Josiah admitted they’d had a hell of a lot of fun, although he didn’t go into detail. None of the men who’d been present did.

Consuelo had already left for Newport in June, and Annabelle joined her there in mid-July. Josiah came up, to stay in his own house, at the end of the month. Henry Orson came with him, to lend moral support to the groom, who seemed to be doing fine. And he was going to stay in Josiah’s house when they were on their honeymoon. Josiah had taken an additional three weeks of holiday this year, for their honeymoon. The bank was understanding about it, particularly since Annabelle was the bride.

Annabelle had come to love Josiah’s friend Henry. He was smart, witty, kind, and a little shy. She was constantly trying to decide which of her young female friends to introduce him to. She had already introduced him to several and he admitted to liking two of them, though nothing serious had come of it yet, but Annabelle was hopeful. And when he and Josiah got together, they were funny and quick, and the sparks of their repartee flew. Henry had always been extremely nice to her. He was to Josiah what Hortie was to her, his oldest friend from school. And Annabelle admired him immensely.

Hortie had settled in Newport for the summer by then, in her parents’ house, and James was there with her. They were almost sure they would have the baby there, and she came over to visit Annabelle every day. And Annabelle helped her mother whenever she could. But Consuelo insisted she had everything in control. Annabelle had brought her wedding dress up with her. There were more parties for them in Newport. And the Astors gave an enormous dance for them. Consuelo complained that she had never had so many late nights in her life, but she enjoyed them all.

The number of guests for the wedding had already slipped over the hundred mark, and was hovering at one twenty. Every time someone gave a party for them, they had to be added to the list. But the young couple was visibly having a ball. Josiah commented to her dryly at lunch one day, when he had come over with Henry for a picnic, that if he’d known getting married was so much fun, he’d have done it years before.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Annabelle reminded him, “because then you wouldn’t be marrying me.”

“You have a point,” he chuckled, as Hortie arrived. She was waddling now, and every time Annabelle saw her, she couldn’t help laughing at her. It was hard to believe that in the next month she’d get any bigger than she was. She looked like she was about to explode. It took both Josiah and Henry to help her sit on the lawn, and even more effort and nearly a crane to get her back up.

“This isn’t funny,” she said, as all three of them laughed at her. “I haven’t seen my feet in months.” She looked and insisted that she felt like an elephant.

“What are you wearing to the wedding?” Annabelle asked her with a look of concern. She couldn’t imagine a dress big enough for her by then.

“My bedspread, I think. Or the tent.”

“Seriously, do you have anything you can fit in? You’re not getting off the hook.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” she reassured her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She had actually had her mother’s dressmaker make something for her. It was a giant, pale blue tent, and she’d had shoes made to match. It wasn’t exactly a matron of honor’s dress, but it was all she’d be able to wear. She hated it, but it was all she had.

Consuelo had had a dress made in emerald green with a matching hat, and she was planning to wear the emeralds Arthur had given her. It was a beautiful color on her, and Annabelle knew she would look lovely as the mother of the bride.

Finally the big day arrived. Josiah’s father and stepmother had driven down from Boston, with Josiah’s half-sister and her husband and their baby. Annabelle liked them all. And the rehearsal dinner was fine. Consuelo got along with Josiah’s family, and she had them to lunch the day before the wedding. Both families were thrilled with the match. It was the union of two highly respected families, and two people whom everyone loved. And as Josiah had predicted, his oddball brother, George, who lived in Chicago had decided not to come. He was playing in a golf tournament instead. It was just the way he was, and Josiah’s feelings weren’t hurt. He would have been too much trouble if he had come, so his absence was a relief. His family had never been as normal, well balanced, and cohesive as Annabelle’s had been. And his stepmother got on his nerves. She had a high squeaky voice, and complained every chance she got.

Consuelo had brunch with Josiah’s relatives the morning of the wedding, without either the bride or groom. Out of superstition, Annabelle didn’t want to see Josiah before the wedding, and he and Henry were relaxing at his house, and trying to keep cool. It was a blistering hot day, and Consuelo was worried that the flowers would wilt and the wedding cake would melt before the ceremony even began. The service in the garden was planned for seven o’clock that night, and they were sitting down to dinner at nine. There was no doubt in everyone’s mind that the party would go late.

There were a hundred and forty people coming finally, almost equally divided between the bride and groom. And Henry Orson, of course, was going to be the best man.

Hortie was the matron of honor, and if she didn’t have the baby before the wedding, she looked as though she could. She’d admitted to Annabelle, just to warn her, that she’d been having contractions for two days, and she was praying that her water wouldn’t break at the altar. It was bad enough, she said, just looking the way she did. She knew that everyone would be horrified to see her at the wedding, and would probably find it shocking. But she couldn’t let her best friend down. Annabelle had told her that it was sad enough not having her father or brother there, so Hortie couldn’t be absent too.

Blanche had come to Newport with them to be at the wedding. She was bustling around Annabelle’s bedroom in the afternoon, and fussing over her like a baby. And when the time came, she and Consuelo helped her into her wedding dress and did up the tiny buttons. The cinched-in waist and narrow gown were exquisite on her. And with a sharp intake of breath, Consuelo set the headpiece on Annabelle’s blond hair and settled the cloud of veil around her. Both women stood back to look at her, as tears rolled down their cheeks. Without question, Annabelle was the most beautiful bride they’d ever seen.

“Oh my God,” Consuelo whispered, as Annabelle beamed at them. “You look incredible.” Annabelle was the happiest woman alive, and she could hardly wait for Josiah to see her. And they all wished that her father had been there. Consuelo knew that he would have had a lump in his throat the size of a fist, walking her down the aisle. Annabelle had always been his pride and joy.

The two women helped her down the stairs, carrying her long train. Then one of the maids handed her the enormous bouquet of lily of the valley, and with that, Annabelle, her mother, and Blanche slipped out a side door. Blanche went to warn the ushers that she was coming. The guests were in their places, Josiah and Henry were at the altar, Hortie was beside them, looking like a gigantic pale blue balloon. There had been several gasps when the dowagers of Newport saw her. But everyone also knew that it was an unusual wedding. The groom was nearly twenty years older than the bride, had never been married, and the family had been struck by tragedy barely more than a year before. Some allowances had to be made.

Consuelo stood for a last moment in the side garden, looking lovingly down at her daughter, and then took her in her arms and held her.

“Be happy, my darling… Daddy and I love you so much,” and then, with tears streaming down her face, she rushed to take her place in the front row of chairs that had been set up in the main garden for the wedding service.

All hundred and forty people were there, and as soon as Consuelo took her place, the musicians began playing the Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin, as they had at Hortie’s wedding. The big moment was here. The bride was coming. Consuelo glanced up at Josiah, and he smiled at her. A warm glow passed between them. And more than ever, Consuelo knew that he was the right man. And she was sure that Arthur would have thought so too.

All the wedding guests stood up at a signal from the minister, and all heads turned. The tension was enormous, as slowly and solemnly, the exquisite bride crossed the length of the garden in measured steps, alone. There was no one at her side, no one to lead her there, protect her, or hand her over to the man she was to marry. She was coming to him proudly, and quietly, with total certainty and dignity, on her own. Since there was no one to give her to Josiah, she was giving herself to him, with her mother’s blessing.

There was a sharp intake of breath as they saw her, and the force of the tragedy that had impacted them hit the guests as well as they saw the tiny, lovely bride gliding toward them, with the huge bouquet of lily of the valley in her hands, and her face covered by the veil.

She stood before Josiah and the minister, as Henry and Hortie stepped aside. The bride and groom stood looking at each other through her veil, and he gently took her hand. She had been very brave.

The minister addressed the assembled company, and began the service. When he asked who gave this woman in marriage, her mother responded clearly from the front row, “I do,” and the marriage ceremony went on. At the appointed moment, Josiah lifted her veil ever so gently and looked into her eyes. They said their vows to each other, he slipped the narrow diamond band on her finger, and she a simple gold band on his. They were proclaimed man and wife, kissed, and then, beaming, walked back down the aisle. Tears were streaming unchecked down Consuelo’s face as she watched them, and as her daughter had, she walked back down the aisle alone behind Henry and Hortie, who waddled along happily on Henry’s arm. He had never before seen a woman so extremely pregnant in public, nor had anyone else. But she had decided to enjoy the wedding and was delighted she was there. She quickly found James in the crowd, and Consuelo, Annabelle, and Josiah formed a reception line to greet their guests.

Half an hour later everyone was mingling, talking, and enjoying the champagne. It had been a beautiful, tender, and poignant wedding. Annabelle was looking up at Josiah adoringly as Henry came to kiss her and offer his best wishes, and congratulate the groom.

“Well, you did it,” he chuckled, “you’ve civilized him. They said it couldn’t be done,” he said to Annabelle.

“You’re next,” she teased as she kissed him. “Now we have to find someone for you.” He looked nervous as she said it and pretended to shake in fear.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” he confessed. “I think I’d rather hang out with you, and enjoy the thrills of marriage vicariously. You don’t mind if I tag along, do you?” He was only half-kidding, and Annabelle told him he was welcome anytime. She knew how close he and Josiah were, just as she was with Hortie. There was room in their new life for their old friends.

Annabelle and Josiah greeted all the guests, and then just after nine o’clock it was time to sit down. Annabelle and Consuelo had been meticulous about the seating, making sure that all the most important people in Newport had been deferred to properly. Consuelo was seated with Josiah’s family, and at the bride and groom’s table, they had placed Henry, one of Annabelle’s female friends, James and Hortie, and three other young couples they were fond of. Most of the guests were people they truly wanted there. There were very few guests invited out of obligation, with the exception of a few men from Arthur’s bank, with whom Josiah worked. It seemed only proper to include them.

Josiah shared the first dance with Annabelle, a slow waltz they executed to perfection. It was a song they both loved and had danced to often. Both were proficient dancers, and they looked dazzling on the dance floor. Everyone sighed as they watched them. And then Josiah’s father danced with the bride, and Josiah with Consuelo, and after that the rest of the guests joined them on the floor. It was nearly ten before people started eating the sumptuous repast Consuelo had ordered. They danced between courses, talked, laughed, enjoyed each other, and commented on how good the food was, which was rare at weddings. The newlyweds cut the wedding cake at midnight, danced some more, and the guests didn’t start leaving until two in the morning. The wedding had been a huge success, and as they got into Arthur’s Hispano-Suiza to go to the New Cliff Hotel for the night, Josiah bent to kiss her.

“Thank you for the most beautiful night of my life,” Josiah said, as rice and rose petals began to pelt them, and he gently pushed his bride into the car. They had already thanked her mother profusely for the perfect wedding, and had promised to stop by in the morning, before they drove back to the city to take the train to Wyoming. They had all their luggage packed and ready at the hotel. Annabelle would be wearing a pale blue linen suit when they left the next morning, with a huge straw hat with pale blue flowers on it, and matching blue kid gloves.

They waved at their well-wishers as the car pulled away to take them to the hotel, and for an instant Annabelle wondered what was in store for her. The last thing she saw as they drove away was Hortie’s enormous form as she waved at them. Annabelle laughed, as she waved back and hoped that if she got pregnant, she wouldn’t look like Hortie nine months from now. Henry had been the last one to kiss her and shake Josiah’s hand. The two men had looked each other in the eyes and smiled, as Henry wished them well. He was a good man, Annabelle knew, and more of a brother to Josiah than his own.

They sat in the living room of their suite for a while, she still in her wedding gown and he in his white tie and tails, talking about the wedding, their friends, how beautiful it was, and what an extraordinary job Consuelo had done. The absence of her father and brother had been painful for Annabelle, but even that had been tolerable. She had Josiah now, to lean on, love, and protect her. And he had Annabelle to count on and adore him, for the rest of their lives. They couldn’t ask for more.

It was three A.M. when both went to separate bathrooms and finally emerged. He was in white silk pajamas someone had given him as a gift for the occasion, and she in a delicate white chiffon nightgown, the top encrusted in tiny pearls, with a matching dressing gown. She giggled like the young girl she was as she got into bed beside him. Josiah was waiting for her and took her in his arms. He suspected how nervous she was, and they were both tired after the long night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said quietly, “we have lots of time.” And then, much to her delight and amazement, he held her gently, until she fell asleep, dreaming of how beautiful it had all been. In her dream, they were at the altar, exchanging their vows, and this time her father and brother were standing near and looking on. She had sensed them there anyway, and she drifted off to sleep as Josiah held her gently, like the priceless jewel she was to him.

Chapter 8

As promised, Annabelle and Josiah stopped off to say good-bye to her mother on the way out of town. The Hispano-Suiza, driven by Thomas, was taking them into the city, to meet their train that afternoon. They were going to Chicago for the first leg of the trip and from there would change trains to continue their journey west to Wyoming, to a ranch Josiah had been to once and loved. They would ride horses, and go fishing and hiking amid the incredible scenery of the Grand Tetons. Josiah had told her it was more beautiful than the Alps in Switzerland—and they didn’t have to take a ship to get there. They would be staying for almost three weeks. Then they would come home to New York to start looking for a new home big enough for them and the children they hoped to have. Consuelo was hoping that, like Hortie, Annabelle would come home pregnant from their honeymoon.

Consuelo searched her daughter’s face the next morning, looking for changes, and the tenderness of a woman loved that hadn’t been there before, but what she saw was the beaming child she had loved all her life. Nothing had changed. Consuelo was pleased to see that she had adjusted well. There was no recalcitrance, or look of frightened amazement that one saw sometimes on brides’ faces after the wedding night. Annabelle was as happy as ever, and still treated Josiah more like an old friend than a new love. Before saying goodbye to her mother they had stopped at Josiah’s house to say good-bye to Henry too.

Consuelo was having lunch with Josiah’s father and stepmother when the new couple stopped by. Everyone was in good spirits and talking of the delights and beauty of the night before. Her mother hugged her tightly again, she and Josiah thanked his father for the rehearsal dinner, and they left in the Hispano-Suiza moments later.

She would have liked to stop and say good-bye to Hortie too, but her mother said that James had sent a message that she was in labor. She had made it through the wedding, and gone into labor during the night. Her mother and the doctor were with her, and James was having lunch with friends. Annabelle hoped it would go well for her. She knew Hortie was nervous about the size of the baby, and how difficult it might be. One of their friends, who had made her debut at the same time they did, had died in childbirth only months before. It had been sobering for all of them. It happened, and sometimes couldn’t be avoided, and often there were infections afterward, which almost always killed the mother. So Annabelle said a quiet prayer for Hortie as they left, wondering if her own mother was right, and it would be a boy. It was an exciting thought, which made her wonder too if she would return from their honeymoon pregnant, with a baby conceived in the wilds of Wyoming.

She was grateful that Josiah had been kind and respectful of her the night before. Adding the newness of sex to such an overwhelming day would have been too much, although she would have been willing if he’d insisted. But she had to admit, she was glad he hadn’t. He was the perfect, kind, understanding husband, and as he had promised in the beginning, still her very best friend. She looked at him adoringly as they drove into the city, and they chatted some more about their wedding, and he described Wyoming to her again. He had promised to teach her how to fish. To Annabelle, it seemed like the perfect honeymoon. And Josiah agreed when she said it to him.

They got to New York at five o’clock, in perfect time for their train at six, and settled into the largest first-class compartment on the train. Annabelle clapped her hands in delight when she saw it.

“This is so much fun! I love it!” she giggled as he laughed happily at her.

“You are such a silly girl, and I love you.” He put his arms around her and kissed her as he drew her close to him.

They were spending the next day in Chicago, before getting on another train and heading west that night. He had promised to show her the city during their brief stopover, and had taken a suite at the Palmer House Hotel, so they could rest comfortably between trains. He had thought of everything. He wanted Annabelle to be happy. She deserved it after all she had lost, and all they’d suffered, and he vowed to himself as the train left Grand Central Station that he would never let her down. He meant every word of it. It was a solemn promise to him.

By six o’clock that afternoon, as Josiah and Annabelle’s train left the station, Hortie’s baby had not yet been born. It had been an arduous and agonizing labor. The baby was large, and she was small. She had been screaming and writhing for hours. James had come home after lunch, and found her screams so piercing and disconcerting that he had poured himself a stiff drink and gone out again to dine with friends. He hated to think of Hortie going through that, but there was nothing he could do. It was what women did. He was sure that the doctor, her mother, and two nurses were doing all they could.

He was drunk when he came home at two o’clock that morning, and stunned to hear the baby still hadn’t come. He was too inebriated to discern the look of terror on his mother-in-law’s face. Hortie was so weak by then that her screams had diminished, much to his relief, and a piteous, animal moaning sound drifted throughout the house. He put a pillow over his head, and went to sleep. A sharp rapping on the guest-room door, where he was sleeping, as far away as possible from the bedroom where his wife was delivering, finally woke him up at five A.M. It was his mother-in-law telling him that his son had been born, and weighed just under ten pounds. The baby had made mincemeat of her daughter, but she didn’t mention that to James. If he’d been more sober, he might have figured it out for himself. He thanked her for the news, and went back to sleep, promising to see Hortie and the baby in the morning when he woke. He couldn’t have seen her then anyway, the doctor was sewing her up, after the tears the birth had caused.

Hortie had been in hard labor for twenty-six hours, with a ten-pound boy. She was still sobbing miserably as the doctor made careful stitches, and they finally gave her chloroform. It had been a difficult birth, and she could easily have died. They still had to worry about infection, so she wasn’t out of the woods yet. But the baby was fine. Hortie was a lot less so. Her initiation into motherhood had been a trial by fire of the worst kind. Her mother would whisper about it to her friends for months to come. But all that would ever be said publicly was that the baby had arrived, and mother and child were fine. The rest could only be said among women, behind closed doors, keeping the agony of childbirth, and its appalling risks, carefully hidden from the ears of men.

When Consuelo heard about it from Hortie’s mother the next day, she was sorry that Hortie had had such a rough time. Robert had been easy for Consuelo, but Annabelle had been more challenging, as she was born breech, feet first, and miraculously they’d both survived. She just hoped that Annabelle herself would have an easier delivery than Hortie’s. They were doing everything possible so infection wouldn’t set in now. After such a difficult birth, it was often hard to avoid, although no one knew why.

Consuelo said she would come to visit her in a few days, but her mother admitted that Hortie wasn’t up to it yet, and might not be for a while. They were planning to keep her in bed for a month. She said that James had seen Hortie and the baby for a few minutes, and they had pinked up her cheeks and combed her hair, but she just cried. He was over the moon about his son. It made Consuelo think of Arthur, who had always been so kind to her after their children’s births. For a young man, he had been unusually compassionate and understanding. And she had a feeling Josiah would be too. But James was barely more than a boy himself, and had no idea what delivering a baby entailed. He had said at the wedding that he hoped they had another one soon, and Hortie had laughed and rolled her eyes. Consuelo felt sorry for her, knowing what she had just been through. She sent over a basket of fruit and a huge bouquet of flowers for her that afternoon, and prayed that she’d recover soon. It was all that one could do. She was in good hands. And Consuelo knew only too well that after this birth, Hortie would no longer be the carefree girl she had once been. She had paid her dues.

As it turned out, Hortie made it out of bed in three weeks instead of a month. The baby was thriving, they had a wet nurse for him, and they had bound Hortie’s breasts to stop her milk. She was still a little wobbly on her feet, but looking well. She was young and healthy, and she had been lucky to escape infection, and was no longer at risk. Consuelo had been to visit her several times. James was bursting with pride over his enormous son, whom they had named Charles. The baby got fatter every day. And three weeks after his birth, they drove Hortie back to New York in an ambulance, to continue her recovery in town. She was happy to go home. Consuelo left Newport on the same day.

It was lonely for her once she got back to New York. The house was deadly quiet without Annabelle, who was always so full of light and life and fun, always checking on her mother, and offering to do things with her. The full weight of her solitude and the loneliness of her future hit Consuelo like a bomb when she got home. It was hard being there alone. And she was grateful that the newlyweds were due back from their honeymoon in two days. She had run into Henry Orson on the street and he seemed lonely too. Josiah and Annabelle brought so much light and joy to those around them, that without them, everyone felt deprived. Consuelo, Hortie, and Henry could hardly wait for them to come back.

And then in a burst of cheer, they returned. Annabelle insisted on stopping in to see her mother on the way home from the station, and Consuelo was delighted to see her, looking healthy, happy, and brown. Josiah looked well too. They still bantered with each other like children in a schoolyard, teasing, laughing, making jokes about everything. Annabelle said that Josiah had taught her fly fishing and she had caught an enormous trout on her own. Josiah looked proud of her. They had ridden horses, gone hiking in the mountains, and thoroughly enjoyed life on the ranch. She looked like a child who had been away for the summer. It was hard to believe she was grown-up and married. And Consuelo could see none of the subtleties and innuendoes of womanhood on her face. She had no idea if a baby had been conceived, and she didn’t want to ask. But Annabelle looked like the same gentle, loving, happy young girl she’d been when she left. She asked how Hortie was, and Consuelo said she was doing well. She didn’t want to frighten Annabelle with stories about the birth, and it wouldn’t have been suitable for Josiah’s ears anyway, so she simply said that all was fine, and told her the baby had been named Charles. She left it to Hortie to tell Annabelle the rest, or not. And she hoped not. Most of it was too frightening for a young woman to hear. Particularly one who might be going through the same thing soon. There was no point terrifying her.

They stayed for an hour and then said their good-byes. Annabelle promised to visit her mother the next day, and they both would dine with her that night. And then after hugging Consuelo, the young couple went home. It had cheered Consuelo immeasurably to see them both, but the house seemed emptier than ever when they left. She was hardly eating these days, as it was too lonely sitting in the dining room alone.

True to her word, Annabelle came to have lunch with her mother the following day. She was wearing one of the outfits from her trousseau, a very grown-up-looking navy-blue wool suit, but she still looked like a child to her mother. Even with the trappings of womanhood, and a wedding ring on her finger, she acted like a young girl. She seemed very happy as they chatted over lunch, and Annabelle asked her what she’d been doing. Her mother said she hadn’t been in town for long, and had stayed in Newport later than usual, enjoying the September weather, and now she was planning to start her volunteer work at the hospital again. She expected Annabelle to say she’d join her, or mention that she was going back to the Hospital for the Ruptured and Crippled again, but she surprised her mother and said that she wanted to begin volunteering at Ellis Island instead. The work there would be more interesting and challenging for her, and they were so shorthanded that she would have more opportunity to help with medical work, and not just observe or carry trays. Hearing about it, her mother was upset.

“Those people are so often sick, they bring in diseases from other countries. The conditions there are terrible. I think that’s a very foolish thing for you to do. You’ll wind up catching influenza again or worse. I don’t want you to do that.” But she was a married woman now, and it was up to Josiah what she did. She asked her daughter if he knew what she had in mind. Annabelle nodded and smiled. Josiah was very sensible about things like that, and he had always been understanding and enthusiastic about her medical interests and the volunteer work she did. She had told him about her new plans.

“He thinks it’s fine.”

“Well, I don’t.” Consuelo frowned, gravely upset.

“Mama, don’t forget that the worst case of influenza I ever had, I caught in a bunch of ballrooms, going to parties when I came out. Not working with the poor.”

“That’s all the more reason for you not to do it,” Consuelo said firmly. “If you can get that sick at parties among healthy, well-kept people, imagine how sick you will get working with people who live in terrible unsanitary conditions and are riddled with diseases. Besides, if you get pregnant, which I hope you will or are, that would be a terrible idea and would put you and the baby at risk. Has Josiah thought of that?” Something crossed her daughter’s eyes that Consuelo didn’t understand, but it vanished in a flash.

“I’m in no hurry to start a family, Mama. Josiah and I want to have some fun first.” It was the first time Consuelo had heard her say that, and she was surprised. She wondered if she was using one of the new, or even ancient, methods to keep from having a child. But she didn’t dare to ask.

“When did you decide that?” Her daughter’s comment had answered Consuelo’s question about whether Annabelle had gotten pregnant on the trip. Apparently not.

“I just feel too young. And we’re having so much fun without a baby to worry about. We want to take some more trips. Maybe to California next year. Josiah says that San Francisco is beautiful, and he wants to show me the Grand Canyon. I can’t do that if I’m expecting.”

“The Grand Canyon can wait,” her mother said, looking disappointed. “I’m sorry to hear it. I’m looking forward to grandchildren,” she said sadly. She had nothing in her life now, except visits with Annabelle, rather than living with her, which she loved. Grandchildren would have filled a void for her.

“You’ll have them,” Annabelle reassured her. “Just not yet. Don’t be in such a hurry. As Josiah says, we have lots of time.” He had said it more than once on the trip, and she had no choice but to agree. He was her husband after all, and she had to follow his lead.

“Well, I still don’t want you working on Ellis Island. I thought you liked the volunteer work you were doing.” The Hospital for the Ruptured and Crippled was bad enough, in Consuelo’s opinion. Ellis Island was unthinkable.

“I think Ellis Island would be more interesting, and give me more of a chance to improve my skills,” Annabelle repeated, and her mother looked startled by what she said.

“What skills? What do you have up your sleeve?” Annabelle was always full of new ideas, particularly about medicine and science. They were clearly her passion, even if she didn’t get to exercise them in any official way.

“Nothing, Mama,” Annabelle said seriously, looking a little sad. “I just wish I could help people more, and I think I’m capable of doing more than what they let me do at the hospitals here.” Her mother didn’t know that she wished she could be a doctor. It was one of those dreams that Annabelle knew would never come to fruition, so why talk about it and upset her? But at least she could come as close as possible, as a volunteer. Ellis Island, and their acute need there, understaffed and overpopulated, would give her a chance to do that. It was Henry Orson who had suggested it to her. He knew a doctor there and had promised to introduce her. And because it was Henry, Josiah had approved the plan.

Annabelle went to visit Hortie after lunch with her mother. She was still in bed some of the time, but getting up more and more often. Annabelle was shocked by how thin she looked, and how tired. The baby was big and beautiful, but Hortie looked like she’d been through the wars, and said she had.

“It was awful,” she said honestly, with eyes that still told the tale. “No one ever said it would be like that. I thought I was dying, and my mother said I nearly did. And James says he wants another one soon. I think he’s trying to start a dynasty, or a baseball team or something. I still can’t sit down, and I was lucky I didn’t get an infection. That probably would have killed me like Aimee Jackson last year.” Hortie looked seriously impressed and badly shaken by what she’d been through. And Annabelle couldn’t help wondering if the baby was worth it. He was adorable, but it wouldn’t have been adorable if his arrival had killed Hortie, and it sounded like it nearly had. It seemed terrifying when Hortie told her what it had been like. “I think I screamed for all twenty-six hours. I’m not even sure I want to do that again. And imagine if it were twins, I think I’d kill myself rather than go through it. Imagine having two in one night!” She looked horrified, whereas six months before she had thought having twins would be funny. Having babies had turned out to be far more serious business than she’d previously thought. And the story she told was scaring her old friend. Enough so that Annabelle was grateful that she wasn’t pregnant. “What about you?” Hortie asked, looking mischievous suddenly and more like her old self. “How was the honeymoon? Isn’t sex fabulous? It’s a shame it has to end up in childbirth, although I guess it can be avoided, if you’re lucky. Do you think you’re pregnant yet?”

“No,” Annabelle said quickly. “I’m not. And we’re in no rush. And what you’re telling me makes me never want to do it.”

“My mother says I shouldn’t talk about it to women who haven’t had babies.” Hortie looked guilty then. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“That’s all right,” Annabelle said sunnily. She had offered no comment about their sex life and didn’t intend to. “You just make me glad I’m not pregnant.” Hortie lay back in bed then with a tired sigh, as the wet nurse brought the baby in to show them how fat and handsome he was. He was a lovely baby, and sleeping soundly in the nurse’s arms.

“I suppose he was worth it,” his mother said, sounding uncertain, as the nurse left again. Hortie didn’t like to hold him often. Motherhood still scared her, and she hadn’t forgiven the baby yet for the agony he’d caused her. She knew she’d remember that for a long, long time. “My mother says I’ll forget eventually. I’m not so sure. It was really awful,” she said again. “Poor James has no idea, and I’m not allowed to tell him. Men aren’t supposed to know.” It seemed a strange principle to Annabelle, since they would have told him if she died. But failing that, it was supposed to remain a mystery, and one was supposed to pretend that everything had been easy and fine.

“I don’t see why he can’t know. I would tell Josiah. There’s nothing I can’t say to him. And I think he’d worry about me, if I didn’t.”

“Some men are like that. James isn’t. He’s a baby. And Josiah is a lot older, he’s more like your father. So did you have fun?”

“We had a wonderful time.” Annabelle smiled. “I learned to flyfish, and we rode every day.” She had loved galloping over the foothills with Josiah amid seas of wildflowers.

“What else did you learn?” Hortie asked with an evil look, and Annabelle ignored her. “I learned some pretty interesting stuff from James on our honeymoon in Paris.” Everyone in town knew that before his marriage at least, James had gone to prostitutes constantly. There were whispers about it. And he had probably learned things from them that Annabelle didn’t want to know, although Hortie didn’t seem to mind. Annabelle much preferred being married to Josiah, even if they didn’t start a family for a while. And they needed to find a house first anyway, since his apartment was too small.

Hortie got nowhere with her questions and racy innuendoes, and eventually she got tired and had to nap, so Annabelle left her and went home. It had been good to see her, and the baby was beautiful, but the story of his birth had shaken Annabelle. She wanted a baby, but had no desire to go through all that. And she wondered how long it would be before she had a baby of her own. She would have liked to hold Charles for a moment, but Hortie had never offered, and seemed to have no desire to hold the baby herself. But given what had happened to her, Annabelle told herself that it was understandable, and she wondered if it took time to develop maternal instincts, just as it took time to get used to the idea of being a husband or wife. Neither she nor Josiah had fully gotten used to all of that yet.

Chapter 9

By the time the social season in New York got fully under way in November, Hortie was back on her feet, and Josiah and Annabelle were invited everywhere. They frequently ran into Hortie and James at parties, and Hortie was in good spirits again. The baby was nearly three months old, and Annabelle and Josiah had been married for as long.

Overnight, Annabelle and Josiah had become the most desirable, popular couple in New York. They looked fabulous together, and still had the same easy, lighthearted relationship. They teased each other constantly and were playful, and had long serious discussions on political and intellectual issues, often with Henry when he came to dinner. They talked about books, the ideas they shared, and conversations with Henry were always lively. Sometimes the three of them played cards and laughed a lot.

Josiah and Annabelle dined with her mother at least twice a week and sometimes more often. Annabelle tried to spend as much time as possible with her in the daytime, since she knew how lonely her mother was now, although Consuelo never complained about it. She was dignified and loving. Consuelo didn’t press Annabelle about starting a family, but wished she would. And she couldn’t help noticing that Annabelle spoke to her husband as she had her brother Robert. There was a part of Annabelle that simply hadn’t grown up yet, in spite of all that had happened, but Josiah seemed enchanted by it, and treated her like a child.

As promised, Henry had introduced her to his doctor friend on Ellis Island, and Annabelle had begun working there as a volunteer. She worked long, grueling hours, often with sick children. And her mother was right, although Annabelle never admitted it to her, that many of them were seriously ill when they arrived, and contagion was rampant. But the work was fascinating and she loved it. Annabelle thanked Henry for it every time she saw him. Josiah was very proud of how hard his wife worked, although she rarely shared the details of it with him. But he knew how dedicated she was to the hospital, the immigrants, and the work.

She went to Ellis Island three times a week, was there for exhausting but rewarding days, and often came home late. Annabelle worked in the hospital complex on the south side of the U-shaped island. Sometimes they sent her to the Great Room in the Great Hall. A fire had destroyed it sixteen years before, and the area where she worked had been rebuilt three years after the fire. In the Great Room, immigrants were held in large caged areas, where they were interviewed to make sure that their papers and questionnaires were in order. Most of the immigrants were sturdy laborers, many with wives and young children, or alone. Some had brides waiting for them whom they’d never met or scarcely knew. Annabelle often helped with the interview process, and about two percent of them were sent back, in tears and despair, to the countries where they came from. And in terror of deportation, many people lied in answer to the interviewers’ questions. Feeling desperately sorry for them, Annabelle had jotted down vague, or incorrect, answers more than once. She didn’t have the heart to make them eligible for deportation.

Fifty thousand people arrived at Ellis Island every month, and if Consuelo had seen them, she would have been even more terrified for Annabelle than she was. Many of the people who arrived there had suffered terrible hardships, some were ill, and had to be sent to the hospital complex. The lucky ones left Ellis Island in a matter of hours, but those whose papers were not in order, or were sick, could be quarantined or detained for months or even years. They had to have twenty-five dollars in their possession, and anyone whose entry was in question was sent to the dormitories, if not released. The sick ones went to the 275-bed hospital where Annabelle was normally assigned, doing the work she loved so much.

The doctors and nurses were understaffed and mostly overworked, which meant that they assigned tasks to volunteers that Annabelle would never have gotten to undertake otherwise. She helped deliver babies, cared for the children who were sick, assisted in eye exams for trachoma, which many of the immigrants were afflicted with. Some of them tried to hide their symptoms for fear of being deported. And there were quarantine wards for measles, scarlet fever, and diphtheria, which Annabelle could not enter. But she handled almost everything else, and the doctors she worked with were frequently impressed by her instinctive sense for diagnosis. For an untrained person, she had an impressive amount of knowledge from the reading she’d done, and an innate ability for anything medical, and she had a gentle way with her patients. The patients loved and trusted Annabelle completely, and she sometimes saw hundreds of patients in a single day, on her own for minor complaints or assisting the doctors and nurses on more serious cases. There were three full buildings set up for contagious diseases, and many of the patients there would not be leaving Ellis Island ever.

The tuberculosis ward was one of the saddest in the hospital, and Consuelo would have been frantic to know that Annabelle volunteered there often. She never told her mother, or Josiah either, but the sickest patients were those who interested her most, and where she felt she learned the most about the management and treatment of desperately ill people.

She had been working in the TB ward all day and into the evening one night when she came home late and found Henry and Josiah talking in the kitchen. Josiah commented on how late she was, and she apologized, feeling guilty. She’d had a hard time tearing herself away from her patients in the children’s TB ward. It was ten o’clock when she got home and Henry and Josiah were cooking dinner and talking animatedly about the bank. Josiah gave her a big hug. She was bone tired, and still cold from the boat ride back. He told her to sit down at the kitchen table, handed her a mug of soup, and cooked dinner for her as well.

The conversation between them at the table was lively, as it always was between the three of them, and it revived her to think of something other than her sick patients. They loved batting new and old ideas around, argued about politics, questioned the social rules that had been accepted in their world for centuries, and generally had a good time. They were three bright people with lively minds, and were the best of friends. She had come to love Henry almost as much as Josiah did, and he was yet another brother to her, since she still missed her own so much.

She was too tired to join the conversation much that night, and Josiah and Henry were still in a heated debate about some political issue when Annabelle said goodnight and finally went to bed. She had a hot bath, put on a warm nightgown, and slipped gratefully between the sheets, thinking of the work she’d done on Ellis Island that day. And she was sound asleep long before Henry left and Josiah came to bed. She woke when he came in, and looked at him sleepily as he slipped between the sheets beside her, and she cuddled up to him. And within minutes, she was fully awake, having already had several hours’ rest.

“Sorry I was so tired,” she said sleepily, enjoying his warmth beside her in their bed. She loved sleeping with him, and cuddling. She loved everything about him, and always hoped he loved her as much. Sometimes she wasn’t sure. Relationships with men, and their foibles, were unfamiliar to her. A husband was very different from a father or a brother. The dynamics with a husband were far more subtle and confusing at times.

“Don’t be silly,” he whispered easily, “we talk too much. You had a long day. I understand.” She was selfless, and never hesitated to work hard for the good of others. She was an incredible human being with a good heart, and he truly loved her. There was no doubt in his mind about that.

There was an odd silence between them for a moment then, as Annabelle hesitated, and wanted to ask him something. She was always shy about bringing it up. “Do you suppose… could we maybe …start a family soon …,” she said in a whisper, and for a long moment he said nothing, but she felt him stiffen beside her. She had said it to him once before, and he hadn’t liked it then either. There were times, and subjects, about which Josiah did not like to be pushed. And this was one.

“We have lots of time, Annabelle. We’ve only been married for three months. People need to get used to each other. I’ve told you that before. Give it time, and don’t push.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking.” She wasn’t anxious to go through what Hortie had, but she wanted to have his child, and was willing to brave it for him, no matter how bad it was or might be.

“Don’t ask, and it will happen. We need to settle in.” He sounded very firm, and she didn’t want to argue with him, or make him mad. He was always very kind to her, but when she annoyed him, he backed away and got very cold with her, sometimes for several days. And she had no desire to cause a rift between them now.

“I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again,” she whispered, feeling chastised.

“Please don’t,” he said, turning away from her, his voice sounding suddenly cold. He was warm and loving on all subjects, but not this one. It was a sensitive point for him. And a few minutes later, without a word, he got up again. She lay waiting in bed for him for a long time, and then finally fell asleep before he came back. And in the morning, when she woke up, he was already up and dressed. It happened that way most of the time. It reinforced what he had said about not annoying him by pushing, and reminded her not to bring the subject up again.

The following week she went to visit Hortie, and found her in tears when she arrived. She was beside herself, and had figured out that she was pregnant again. The baby would be born eleven months after Charles, in July. James was delighted about it, and hoped it would be another boy. But with the memory of her first baby’s birth still so fresh in her mind, Hortie was terrified of going through it again, and she just lay on her bed and cried. Annabelle tried to console her, but didn’t know what to say. All she could think of to comfort her was that it probably wouldn’t be as bad the second time. Hortie wasn’t convinced.

“And I don’t want to look like a cow again!” she wailed. “James never came near me the whole time. My life is ruined, and maybe this time I’ll die!” she said miserably. “I almost did last time.”

“You won’t die,” Annabelle said, hoping it was true. “You have a good doctor, your mother will be there. They won’t let anything happen to you.” But they both knew that other women died in childbirth and just after, even with excellent care. “It can’t be worse than last time,” Annabelle reassured her, but Hortie was inconsolable. “I don’t even like babies,” she confessed. “I thought he’d be so cute, like a giant doll, and all he does is eat and poop and scream. Thank God I’m not nursing him. And why should I risk my life for that?”

“Because you’re married, and that’s what women do!” her mother said sternly, as she walked into the room, and gave her daughter a disapproving look. “You should be very grateful that you’re able to bear children and make your husband happy.” They all knew of women who were unable to conceive, and were left by their husbands for women who could. But listening to them, Annabelle was suddenly grateful that it was not an issue between her and Josiah, although she found Hortie’s baby a lot more appealing than his mother did. But in spite of that, Hortie was going to have two children by next July, within less than two years of her marriage. “You’re a very spoiled, selfish girl,” her mother scolded her and left the room again, with no sympathy whatsoever, although she’d been present at the agonizing experience Hortie had gone through. She said only that she’d been through worse herself, with equally big babies, several miscarriages, and two stillbirths, so Hortie had no reason whatsoever to complain.

“Is that all we’re good for? Just breeding?” Hortie said to her friend angrily, after her mother left the room. “And why is it so damn easy for men? All they do is play with you, and then you get all the misery and the work, you get fat and ugly and throw up for months, then you risk your life having a baby, and some women die. And what do men do about it? Nothing, they just do it to you again, and run out with their friends and have fun.” Annabelle knew, as Hortie did, that there were stories around town that James was playing a little too much, and seeing other women on the side. It reminded Annabelle that no one’s life or marriage was perfect. Josiah wanted to wait before starting a family, but she was sure he wasn’t cheating on her, he wasn’t that kind of man. In fact, the only perfect marriage she knew of was her parents’, and her father had died, and now her mother was a lonely widow at forty-four. Maybe life really wasn’t fair.

She listened to Hortie rail and whine for several hours, and then went home to Josiah, relieved that their life was simpler, although he was still cool to her that night. He hadn’t liked her comments of the night before. He went out to dinner with Henry that night at the Metropolitan Club, and said he had some business matters to discuss with him. Annabelle stayed home and pored over her medical books. The next day she was going to Ellis Island again. She was reading everything she could on infectious diseases, particularly tuberculosis. Even though exhausting and challenging, she loved everything about what she did there. And as often happened, she was sound asleep when Josiah came home that night. But when she woke up briefly in the night, he was holding her. She smiled as she went back to sleep. All was well in their world.

Chapter 10

Since Josiah wasn’t close to his family, he and Annabelle spent both Thanksgiving and Christmas with her mother. And since he was alone, to be kind to him, they invited Henry on both occasions. He was bright, charming, and attentive to Consuelo, so he was a happy addition in their midst.

Hortie eventually calmed down, and got used to the idea of another baby. She wasn’t thrilled, but she had no other choice. She wanted more children anyway, she just hadn’t been ready for it quite so soon after her ordeal in August, but she was hoping this time would be easier, and she wasn’t as sick.

And Annabelle was dedicated to her work on Ellis Island, despite her mother’s continuing objections. She hadn’t asked Annabelle about grandchildren again, and had gotten the message loud and clear that it wasn’t going to be happening imminently, and although she was anxious for them, she didn’t want to intrude unduly. And she treated Josiah like a son.

It shocked all of them in April to realize that it had been two years since the sinking of the Titanic. In some ways, it felt like yesterday, in others a lot longer. So much had happened. Annabelle and her mother went to church that day, and had a special mass said for her father and brother. Her mother was lonely, but had adjusted to the losses in her life, and she was grateful that Josiah and Annabelle spent so much time with her. They were very generous about it.

In May, Annabelle turned twenty-one. Consuelo gave her a small dinner, and invited a few of their friends. James and Hortie came, several other young couples from their set, and Henry Orson, with a very pretty girl he had just met. Annabelle hoped that something might come of it for him.

They had a wonderful evening, and Consuelo had even hired a few musicians, so after dinner they all danced. It had been a lovely party. And that night, when Josiah and Annabelle went to bed, she asked Josiah the fateful question again. She hadn’t mentioned it in months. He had given her a beautiful diamond bracelet for her birthday, which everyone had admired, and was the envy of all her friends, but there was something else she wanted from him, which was far more important to her. It had been gnawing at her for months.

“When are we going to start a family?” she whispered to him, as they lay in bed side by side. She said it, staring up at the ceiling, as though if she were not looking at him, he would be better able to come up with an honest answer. There was much between them now that was unsaid. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but after nine months of marriage, some things were hard to explain, and he couldn’t keep telling her they “had time” and didn’t “need to rush.” How much time?

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, looking unhappy. She could see it in his eyes when she turned to look at him. “I don’t know what to say to you,” he said, sounding near tears, and suddenly she was frightened. “I need some time.” She nodded, and gently turned to touch his cheek with her hand.

“It’s okay. I love you,” she whispered. There was so much she didn’t understand and no one she could ask. “Is it something about me that I can change?” He shook his head and looked at her.

“It’s not you. It’s me. I’ll work on it, I promise,” he said, as tears filled his eyes and he took her in his arms. It was the closest they’d ever been, and she felt as though he was finally letting walls down and letting her in.

She smiled then as she held him, and gave his own words back to him. “We have time.” As she said it, a tear rolled down his cheek.

In June, Consuelo left for Newport. With less to do in the city now, she liked being there before the season began. Annabelle had promised to come up in July, and Josiah at the end of the month.

Consuelo had already left the city, when the news from Europe riveted everyone’s attention. On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and his wife, Sophie, were visiting Sarajevo in Bosnia on a state visit, and were shot and killed by a young Serbian terrorist, Gavrilo Princip. Princip was a member of the Black Hand, a much-feared terrorist Serbian organization determined to end Austro-Hungarian rule in the Balkans. The Grand Duke and his wife were each killed by a single bullet shot at close range to their heads. The shocking news reverberated around the world, and the consequences in Europe were rapid and earthshattering and mesmerized everyone in the States.

Austria held the Serbian government responsible and turned to Germany for support. Within weeks of diplomatic floundering, on July 28, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, and opened fire on the city of Belgrade. Two days later, Russia mobilized its troops and prepared for war. France was then obliged, under the conditions of the treaty they had with them, to support Russia in its plans for war. Within days, the house of cards that had held the peace together in Europe began to fall. The two shots that had killed the Austrian Archduke and his wife were drawing every major country in Europe into war. On August 3, despite its protests as a neutral country, German troops marched through Belgium to attack France.

Within days, Russia, England, and France allied and declared war on Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Americans and their government stood aghast at what had happened. By August 6 all the major powers in Europe were at war, and Americans could talk of nothing else.

Annabelle had delayed going to Newport as events in Europe unfolded. She wanted to stay home and be close to Josiah. It wasn’t their battle, although their European allies were going to war. But the United States showed no sign of getting involved. And Josiah reassured her that even if the United States did get pulled in at some point, which seemed unlikely, Annabelle had nothing to fear since, he reminded her, she was married to “an old man.” At forty-one, there was no risk whatsoever that he would be sent to war. President Wilson was assuring the American public that he had every intention of staying out of the war in Europe. But it was deeply disturbing anyway.

Annabelle went to Newport with Josiah at the end of July, two weeks later than she’d planned. She’d been busy working at Ellis Island as usual. Many of the immigrants were panicked over the safety of their relatives. It was obvious that the war, having been declared in many of the countries they came from, would affect their families, and stop some who had planned to join them in the United States. Many of their sons, brothers, and cousins had already been mobilized at home.

In New York, before they left, Annabelle, Josiah, and Henry talked about the war in Europe constantly during late-night dinners in the Millbanks’ garden. And even sheltered Newport was agog at what had happened. For once, the social life there, and everyone’s involvement in it, was taking a back seat to news of world events.

At Josiah and Annabelle’s first anniversary dinner, Consuelo noticed that the pair were closer than ever, although she found both of them serious, which was entirely understandable, given what was happening in the world. Henry had come up from New York to spend their anniversary with them.

Hortie had had her baby by then, which arrived two weeks late on the first of August, a girl this time. The delivery was long and arduous again, but not quite as bad as it had been with Charles. And Louise, as they called her, only weighed eight and a half pounds. Hortie couldn’t come to Annabelle and Josiah’s anniversary dinner at Consuelo’s house, as she was still in bed, being fussed over by her mother and a nurse. But James came to dinner of course. As he always did, he went to every party in Newport that summer, which he also did in New York, with or without Hortie.

August in Newport was quieter than usual, with news of the war in Europe. It seemed to be a cloud that hung over all of them, as they talked about their allies on the other side of the Atlantic and worried about their friends. Annabelle and Josiah discussed it constantly and enjoyed some quiet days together after Henry left. There seemed to be a peaceful understanding between Josiah and Annabelle, but Consuelo found them more serious than in the early days of their marriage. She was sad to see that they still hadn’t started a family, and Annabelle never mentioned it to her. Once, when she saw a sad look in her daughter’s eyes, she wondered if something was wrong, but Annabelle shared none of that with her, and seemed more devoted than ever to her husband. Consuelo still believed them to be a perfect match, and enjoyed being with them and their friends. She just hoped that a grandchild would appear one day, hopefully soon.

The young couple went back to New York in early September, Josiah to his duties at the bank, and Annabelle to hers on Ellis Island. She was getting more and more involved there, and had a deep affection and respect for the people she ministered to and assisted, most of whom seemed to be Polish, German, and Irish. And her mother still worried about her health, being in such close contact with them. They had so many illnesses, the children were often sick, and Consuelo knew that tuberculosis was rampant. What she didn’t know was that Annabelle was fearless and unconcerned in their midst. She worked there more than ever that fall, despite her mother’s warnings and complaints.

Josiah was busy at the bank, handling some very sensitive matters. As a neutral power, the U.S. government, although sympathetic to their plight, had refused to officially finance or supply the Allies’ war efforts in Europe. As a result, private enterprise and some very wealthy individuals had stepped in to offer their assistance. They were sending money, as well as shipping goods, not only to the Allies, but sometimes to their enemies as well. It was creating a huge stir, and managing those transfers required the ultimate discretion, and Josiah found himself handling many of them. As he did with most things, he had confided in Annabelle about it, and shared his concerns with her. It bothered him considerably that certain important clients of her late father’s bank were sending matériel and funds to Germany, due to ties those clients had there. It didn’t sit well with him to play both sides of the fence, but he had to fulfill their clients’ requests.

It was an open secret that transactions of that nature were happening, and in order to stop the influx of supplies to Germany, Britain had begun mining the North Sea. In retaliation, the Germans were threatening to sink any ship belonging to Britain or her allies. And German U-boats were patrolling the Atlantic from beneath the seas. It was surely not a good time to be crossing the Atlantic, but in spite of that, a steady stream of immigrants continued to appear on Ellis Island, determined to find a new life in the States.

The people Annabelle was seeing there were sicker and in worse shape than she had seen in years. In many cases, they had left dire conditions in their home countries and kissed the ground when they disembarked in the States. They were grateful for every kindness offered and everything she did. She had tried to explain that to her mother, to no avail, about how desperately she and others were needed, to assist the immigrants when they arrived. Her mother remained staunchly convinced that she was risking her life every time she went, and she wasn’t completely wrong, although Annabelle didn’t admit it to her. Only Josiah seemed to understand and be supportive of her work. She had bought a number of new medical books, and studied them now every night before she went to bed. It kept her occupied when Josiah was busy, had to work late, or went out with his men friends to events at clubs that didn’t welcome women. She never minded when he went out without her. She said it gave her more time to read and study late into the night.

By then, she had seen several operations performed, and had read conscientiously everything she could lay her hands on about the contagious diseases that plagued the people she ministered to. Many of the immigrants died, particularly the older ones, after rigorous trips, or from the illnesses they were carrying when they arrived. In many ways, Annabelle was considered, among the medical staff there, as a kind of untrained, unofficial nurse, who often proved to be as competent as they, or more so. She had great insight, and an even greater talent for diagnosing her patients, sometimes in time to make a difference and save their lives. Josiah often said she was a saint, which Annabelle brushed off as generous but undeserved praise. She continued to work harder than ever, and often her mother thought that she was trying to fill the void in her life that a baby would have filled. She mourned the continued absence of children for her, even more than Annabelle seemed to herself. She never mentioned having children to her mother.

Henry joined them at her mother’s for Christmas again that year. The four of them shared a quiet dinner on Christmas Eve. It was their third Christmas without Arthur and Robert, and on the holidays their absence was sorely felt. Annabelle hated to admit it, but she could see that so much of the life and spirit of her mother had gone out of her after her husband and son died. Consuelo was always grateful for the time they spent with her, and interested in what was happening in the world, but it was as though after the terrible tragedy on the Titanic more than two years before, she no longer cared what happened to her. Henry seemed to be the only one who could still make her laugh. For Consuelo, the double loss had just been too hard. She only wanted to live long enough now to see Annabelle with children of her own. She was growing more and more worried that something was wrong and that her daughter was unable to get pregnant. But the bond between her and Josiah continued to seem strong.

And as always, even on Christmas Eve, their conversation turned to the war by the end of the meal. None of the news was good. It was hard not to believe that, at some point, out of sympathy if nothing else, America would get into the war and that many young American lives would be lost. President Wilson was staunchly insisting that they would not get involved, although Josiah had begun to doubt it.

Two days after Christmas, Annabelle stopped in to see her mother for a visit, and was surprised when the butler told her that she was upstairs in bed. Annabelle found her shivering under the covers, looking pale, with two bright red spots on her cheeks. Blanche had just brought her a cup of tea, which she had refused. She looked very ill, and when Annabelle touched her forehead with a practiced hand, she could tell that she had a raging fever.

“What happened?” Annabelle asked, looking concerned. It was obviously influenza, and hopefully nothing worse. It was precisely what her mother always feared for her. But Annabelle was young and her resistance to illness was good. Particularly in the last two years, Consuelo had become more frail. Her ongoing sadness over her losses had diminished both her youth and her strength. “How long have you been sick?” Annabelle had seen her only two days before and had no idea she was unwell. Consuelo had warned Blanche not to worry her daughter, and said that she’d be fine in a few days.

“Just since yesterday,” her mother said, smiling at her. “It’s nothing. I think I caught a chill in the garden on Christmas Day.” This looked like a lot more than a chill to Annabelle, and Blanche was worried too.

“Have you seen the doctor?” Annabelle asked, frowning as her mother shook her head. “I think you should.” As she said it, her mother began coughing, and Annabelle saw that her eyes were glazed.

“I didn’t want to bother him right after Christmas. He has more important things to do.”

“Don’t be silly, Mama,” Annabelle chided her gently. She left the room quietly, and went to call him. She was back at her mother’s bedside a few minutes later, with a bright smile that was more assured than she felt. “He said he’d come over in a little while.” Her mother didn’t argue with her about seeing the doctor, which was unusual too. Annabelle realized that she had to be feeling very ill. And unlike with the people she nursed so capably on Ellis Island, she felt helpless at her mother’s bedside, and somewhat panicked. She couldn’t ever remember seeing her mother so sick. And she had heard nothing about an influenza epidemic. The doctor confirmed that to her when he arrived.

“I have no idea how she got this,” he said in consternation. “I’ve seen a few patients with it over the holidays, but mostly older people, who are more frail. Your mother is still young and in good health,” he reassured Annabelle. He felt sure that Consuelo would feel better in a few days. And he left some laudanum drops to help her sleep better, and aspirin for her fever.

But by six o’clock her mother was so much worse that Annabelle decided to spend the night. She called Josiah to let him know, and he was very sympathetic and asked if there was anything he could do to help her. She assured him there wasn’t and went back to her mother, who had been listening to the call.

“Are you happy with him?” Consuelo asked her daughter faintly, which Annabelle thought was an odd question.

“Of course I am, Mama.” Annabelle smiled at her, and sat down on a chair next to the bed and reached for her mother’s hand. She sat there holding it, just as she had when she was a child. “I love him very much,” Annabelle confirmed. “He’s a wonderful man.”

“I’m so sorry you haven’t had a baby. Has nothing happened yet?” Annabelle shook her head with a serious expression and gave her their official line.

“We have time.” Her mother only hoped that she wasn’t one of those women who was never able to have a child. She thought it would be a tragedy if they never had children, and so did Annabelle, although she wouldn’t admit it to her mother. “Let’s just get you well,” she said, to distract her. Consuelo nodded, and a little while later she drifted off to sleep, looking like a child herself, as Annabelle sat next to her and watched her. Her mother’s fever rose over the next hours, and by midnight Annabelle was bathing her forehead with cool cloths, as Blanche prepared them. They had far more comforts at their disposal than she did when she worked on Ellis Island, but nothing helped. She spent the night awake at her mother’s bedside, hoping the fever would break by morning, but it didn’t.

The doctor came to see her morning and afternoon for the next three days, as Consuelo continued to get steadily worse. It was the worst case of influenza the doctor had seen in a long time, and far worse than the one Annabelle had had three years before, when she missed the fateful trip on the Titanic.

Josiah came to sit with his mother-in-law one afternoon, so that Annabelle could get a few hours’ sleep in her old bedroom. He had left the bank to do so, and was surprised when Consuelo woke and looked at him with clear bright eyes. She seemed far more alert than she had the day before, and he hoped she was getting better. He knew how desperately worried his wife was about her mother, with good reason. She was very, very sick, and people had died of influenza before, although there was no reason why she should with such good care. Annabelle hadn’t left her side for a moment, except to sleep for half an hour here and there, when Blanche or Josiah sat with her mother. Consuelo hadn’t been left alone for an instant. And the doctor came twice a day.

“Annabelle loves you very much,” Consuelo said softly from where she lay, smiling at him. She was very weak and deathly pale.

“I love her very much too,” Josiah assured her. “She’s a remarkable woman, and a wonderful wife.” Consuelo nodded, and looked pleased to hear it from him. More often than not, she thought he treated her like a younger sister or a child, and not a wife or a grown woman. Perhaps it was just his way, since she was so much younger than he was. “You have to rest and get better,” he encouraged his mother-in-law, and she looked away, as though she knew it wouldn’t make any difference, and then she looked directly at him again with an intense gaze.

“If anything happens to me, Josiah, I want you to take good care of her. You’re all she has. And I hope that you’ll have children one day.”

“So do I,” he said softly. “She’d be a perfect mother. But you mustn’t speak that way, you’ll be fine.” Consuelo didn’t look as sure, and it was obvious to him that she thought she was dying, or perhaps she was just afraid.

“Take good care of her,” she said again, and then her eyes closed and she went back to sleep. She didn’t stir until Annabelle came back into the room an hour later, and checked her fever. Much to her dismay, it was higher, and she signaled that to Josiah as her mother opened her eyes.

“Feeling better?” Annabelle asked with a bright smile, as Consuelo shook her head, and her daughter had the frightening feeling that she was giving up the fight. And so far, nothing they had done for her had helped.

Josiah went back to the apartment then, and told Annabelle to call for him in the night, if there was anything she wanted him to do. Annabelle promised she would, and as he left the Worthington house, he was haunted by what Consuelo had said. He had every intention of taking care of Annabelle. And the fact that he was all she had in the world, other than her mother, was not lost on him. In some ways, particularly if her mother died, it was a heavy burden for him.

On New Year’s Eve the doctor told them that Consuelo had pneumonia. It was what he had feared would happen from the first. She was a healthy woman, and not of a great age, but pneumonia was a dangerous illness, and he had the feeling that Consuelo was far too willing to let go of life, and they all knew why. She seemed to be slipping away before their eyes, and they couldn’t win this fight alone. They needed her help, and even with it, a happy outcome was not sure. Annabelle was looking terrified as she sat at her bedside. The only time she seemed to perk up was when her mother was awake, and she was trying to coax her to eat and drink, and assuring her that she would be fine soon. Consuelo didn’t comment, was barely eating enough to sustain herself, and was being devoured by the fever. She wasted away day by day, while the fever refused to abate. Blanche looked as devastated as Annabelle as she ran trays up to the sickroom, and the cook tried to concoct meals that Consuelo would eat. The situation was frightening for them all.