Murder on Washington Square

1

SARAH OPENED THE DOOR TO FIND A RAGGED LITTLE BOY on her front stoop. He was fidgeting from one grubby bare foot to the other, either impatient or nervous. He clutched a folded piece of paper to his sunken chest and glared up at her suspiciously.

“You Mrs. Brandt?” he demanded.

“Yes, I am,” she replied, eyeing him cautiously. He might be young in years, but she knew he was as dangerous as a serpent. Obviously, he was a street Arab, one of the hundreds of homeless children who lived on the streets, doing whatever was necessary to stay alive. What on earth did he want and how did he know her name?

“Here,” he said, thrusting the paper at her.

She took it gingerly, still watching him with one eye while she unfolded it. Someone needing her services as a midwife must have hired the boy to fetch her. Usually a family member or a neighbor came to tell her a woman’s time had come, but perhaps they’d had no one to send.

“Dear Mrs. Brandt,” the note read in a careful, masculine hand. “I find myself in need of some professional advice from you on behalf of a lady of my acquaintance. However, this is a matter of some delicacy, and I would prefer that my mother not be made aware of it. Would you be so kind as to meet me this evening at five o’clock in Washington Square near the hanging tree?” The note was signed, “Your obedient servant, Nelson Ellsworth.”

Nelson lived next door to her with his elderly mother. Mrs. Ellsworth had become one of Sarah’s dearest friends, in spite of the difference in their ages. She hardly knew Nelson, however, since he was so seldom at home. According to Mrs. Ellsworth, he spent long hours working at the bank. He hoped to become a vice president soon.

“You gotta answer,” the boy informed her, still dancing from one dirty foot to the other. His clothes were filthy, too, and his body was skeletally thin. Every instinct demanded that she take him inside and give him a hot meal and clean clothes and a warm bed. She’d be a fool to do so, though. Once in her house, he’d probably steal everything of value and vanish.

“Please tell the gentleman that I said yes,” she told the boy.

“No, you gotta write it! He won’t pay if you don’t write it, and he promised me a nickel!” he cried, his small body fairly quivering with urgency.

She should have known Nelson would be careful. He wasn’t one to take chances, even with five cents. The boy could simply throw the paper away and return whatever message he wanted to if Nelson hadn’t required a written reply.

“Just a moment.” Sarah carefully closed the door, resisting the urge to lock it. She couldn’t bring herself to insult the boy that much, no matter how little she trusted him.

Her front room had been converted into a medical office when her physician husband had conducted his practice there. Since his death, Sarah used it to see the patients who were able to come to her. She went to her desk and found a pencil.

“I would be happy to meet with you, unless I am on a call,” she wrote and signed her name. Babies arrived when they wished, and Sarah could never make a firm appointment with anyone.

She folded the paper again as she made her way back to the front door. This whole thing was very puzzling. There was only one reason someone would require her professional opinion, and Nelson Ellsworth was not only a male but a bachelor, too. In fact, according to his mother, he did not even have any lady friends. Which meant that his mother probably didn’t know him nearly as well as she thought!

The boy still stood on the porch, looking even more unhappy than he had before. She held out the paper, and he snatched it from her fingers. In that instant, their eyes met, and Sarah saw him for the child that he was. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, and she wondered what evil things he had been forced to do to stay alive this long. Her heart ached with a longing she refused to identify.

“If you ever need help…” she began, ignoring all common sense. But her effort was wasted. The boy was gone, running down the street as fast as his skinny legs could carry him, off to find Nelson Ellsworth and earn his nickel.

Sarah sighed. It was just as well. What had she been thinking to invite a child like that to visit her? She smiled at the thought of what her friend Detective Sergeant Frank Malloy would have to say about her sentimental feelings for a street urchin. He would be horrified and wouldn’t hesitate to let her know it. When she might have an opportunity to share those feelings, however, she couldn’t imagine. She hadn’t seen Malloy for several weeks, not since he’d taken his son Brian home from the hospital.

Brian had been born with a club foot, but a surgeon Sarah knew had operated on him to correct it. The cast might even be off by now. Sarah decided she might actually be brazen enough to pay the child a visit, just to see how he was doing. She’d have to be careful not to go when Malloy might be home, of course. She wouldn’t want him or Malloy’s mother to think she was using his child as an excuse to see him. Especially Malloy’s mother, who hated the sight of her. Besides, she knew if she visited Brian, Malloy would feel obligated to come by and thank her later.

Washington Square was quiet that evening as Sarah made her way through the Greenwich Village streets toward it. The nurses with their baby buggies were gone, the old men playing chess and checkers and the respectable ladies taking the air had all retired to their homes for supper. Soon night would fall, and the Square would fill again, but with an entirely different class of people. In the darkness, prostitutes would ply their trade, and pickpockets and other thieves would gather to prey on the customers the women would attract. This time was the twilight of the Square, between the respectable and the dissolute, when a gentleman and a lady could meet without attracting too much attention.

As always when she was here, Sarah’s gaze instinctively found the house where she had been raised. It sat on the east side of the Square, perched like a middle-aged woman who still bore signs of her previous beauty but who was beginning to show the inevitable effects of age. Sarah knew the place had become a boardinghouse after her parents sold it. The Deckers had moved uptown to escape the rising tide of immigrants whose lodgings were encroaching the Square on the south side. But it would always be her home, and she felt a twinge of sadness for happy times now gone forever.

Nelson Ellsworth sat stiffly on a bench near the giant elm tree that was said to have been used as a hanging tree in the early part of the century. Beyond him, across the expanse of green grass, the large fountain sparkled in the fading sunlight. Put there to provide water for thirsty horses, it also provided an oasis of beauty amid the harsh brick and mortar of the city. Sarah’s bedroom window had looked out on the fountain, and she’d spent many hours as a young girl watching it.

Nelson rose as soon as he saw Sarah. He wore a tailored suit that was still neat even after a day of work, and his shirt and tie were immaculate. Still a young man, he was already beginning to stoop from hours spent over a ledger, and his face was pale from too little sun. Like the boy who had brought her the note, he seemed anxious, but he was too well mannered to bounce from one foot to the other or to rush to meet her. Yet even from yards away, she could sense his tension.

“Mrs. Brandt,” he said when she was close enough that he didn’t have to shout. “How good of you to come.”

“I must admit I was intrigued by your note,” she said, giving him her hand when she reached him.

“I’m sure you were more than intrigued,” he said, his face fixed in a smile that did not reach his eyes. He took out his handkerchief and dusted the bench for her to sit. “I’m sorry I had to ask you to keep this meeting a secret from my mother,” he said when they were settled.

“Your mother doesn’t have to know everything I do, Mr. Ellsworth,” Sarah told him with a smile.

“I’m sure she would disagree with that sentiment,” Nelson said, returning her smile ruefully. Mrs. Ellsworth considered it her duty to learn the intimate details of everyone else’s lives, and she devoted herself to the task.

“Now you must tell me what delicate matter has driven you to seek advice from a midwife,” Sarah said encouragingly.

His smile vanished instantly. “This is most embarrassing,” he said. “And please believe that I would not have involved you in this matter if I had any other resources, but-”

“Please don’t apologize,” Sarah said, hoping to relieve some of his social agonies. “I’m flattered that you felt you could safely confide in me. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the situation-and believe me, you needn’t stand on ceremony.”

Some of the stiffness went out of him, and he rubbed his forehead, as if it ached. “All right, although I’m not certain exactly where to begin.”

“This involves a young lady, I gather?”

Nelson nodded miserably.

“Then tell me how you met her.”

He drew his breath and let it out in a long sigh of resignation. “She came into the bank one day. She was so very frightened and obviously desperate. She wanted to make a loan, and she asked for the manager. He wasn’t in, so the clerk sent her to me. We don’t make loans to young women with no means of support,” he told Sarah, as if he were offering an excuse.

“No one would expect you to,” Sarah assured him. “But I’m sure you don’t make loans to young women under any circumstances.”

This was so obvious, it didn’t merit a response. “Her mother was ill and needed medical care,” he continued, “but they hardly had enough to live on. She was hoping to borrow some money from the bank, but I had to disappoint her. She was very upset. She was afraid her mother was going to die.”

“That would be upsetting,” Sarah agreed, still wondering how this encounter led to Nelson needing the services of a midwife.

“The bank couldn’t lend her the money, of course, but I… Well, I couldn’t just turn her away, could I? There’s no telling what a young woman will do if she feels desperate enough. She even hinted that she… that she might have to… to…”

“To compromise her virtue?” Sarah supplied helpfully.

“Yes, yes,” Nelson agreed gratefully. “She was so innocent and sweet, I couldn’t bear the thought of her degrading herself. She only needed a hundred dollars, so I…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away in embarrassment.

Sarah’s imagination conjured several possible things Nelson could have done, but she doubted he was capable of any of them, although the fact that he needed her services proved she was at least partially mistaken in his character. “You didn’t take money from the bank, did you?” she asked, offering the only criminal possibility she could think of.

“Oh, no!” Nelson cried, horrified at the thought. “Nothing like that! I… I loaned her the money myself from my own funds.”

Although he had said she “only” needed a hundred dollars, that was still a lot of money. More than three months’ wages for a laborer. “You were very generous, especially when she probably had no hope of being able to repay you.” Unless, of course, she became Nelson’s mistress. Perhaps that would explain why Mrs. Ellsworth thought Nelson had been working such late hours.

“I had no illusions she would repay me, Mrs. Brandt. I was giving her the money out of Christian charity.” Nelson’s pale blue eyes were tortured, and his smooth banker’s hands made a pleading gesture as he silently begged for her understanding.

Sarah was still not certain what he wanted from her, but she was sure it wasn’t her absolution. “That was very noble of you,” she offered.

He recoiled as if stung. “Noble!” he scoffed. “I assure you, I was far from noble!”

“Are you saying you took advantage of her?” Sarah asked, still unable to believe him capable of such a thing.

“No, not… not then, at least. In fact, I never expected to see her again. As I said, I did not believe her capable of repaying the loan, so what other reason would she have for returning except to humiliate herself? Then one evening a week or so later, she was waiting for me on the street when I came out of the bank. She was even more distraught than before. Her mother had died, you see and…”

“And she needed more money,” Sarah guessed.

“Oh, no, that’s not why she came,” Nelson insisted. “She just wanted to tell me that she couldn’t pay the rent in her rooming house anymore, and she was being evicted, so she wouldn’t be able to repay my loan for a while. She didn’t know where to tell me to find her, since she didn’t know where she would be living and…”

“And you gave her more money.” This time Sarah wasn’t guessing.

“She didn’t ask for it,” Nelson assured her. “She didn’t even want to take it, but she was penniless. I couldn’t just let her be thrown out into the streets, could I? You know what happens to girls like that when they don’t have any money and no one to take care of them.”

Sarah knew only too well. “How much did you give her this time?”

“Not much. Just enough to pay her rent and keep her for a month. She was going to find a job, so she could support herself.”

This would be highly unlikely. Jobs for young women paid so poorly that the girls could hardly afford to give their own families a pittance for their board, much less provide their own independent accommodations. And a girl who’d lived a sheltered life in a respectable home wouldn’t last a day in one of the sweatshops. “I don’t suppose she was able to find a suitable position,” Sarah said.

“I had no idea it was so difficult for young women to earn a living!” Nelson said, outraged. “Poor Anna looked everywhere. I called on her several times to make sure she was all right, but she was becoming more and more disheartened. I offered to pay her expenses for another month, but that only distressed her more. I… I…” His pale face flushed, and he could no longer meet her eye.

“Am I to assume you gave her more than comfort?” Sarah asked as discreetly as she could.

“I have no excuse,” Nelson said, covering his face with both hands. “What I did was despicable. To take advantage of someone so helpless and unprotected…”

Sarah would reserve judgment until she’d heard the entire story. “There’s no use flogging yourself over it now. I’m going to assume that your indiscretion has resulted in this Anna being with child. Am I correct?”

“That’s what she believes,” Nelson confirmed bleakly. “I have offered to marry her. It is the least I can do, but…”

Sarah thought she saw the problem. “I’m sure you want to do the right thing, but marriage is a huge commitment, particularly with someone you hardly know. If there was no child after all, then it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“I’m not trying to escape my responsibilities, Mrs. Brandt,” Nelson quickly assured her. “I would feel obligated to marry Anna even if there is no child. I dishonored her, after all. But she… she refuses to consider it!”

This was not what Sarah had expected to hear. “Why won’t she marry you?” she asked in amazement.

“She said she doesn’t want to disgrace me. You see, she assumed from the beginning that I was married, because of my responsible position at the bank and everything. She was shocked to learn I wasn’t, but even then, she said everyone would know why I’d married her, and I would be pitied and tied to a woman who would be of no assistance to me in my ambitions. I won’t deny those things are important to me, Mrs. Brandt, but I can’t-”

“What does she want from you, then?” Sarah asked, tired of his justifications and trying to make sense of the whole thing.

He looked ashamed to have to say the words aloud. “She wants a sum of money so she can go away somewhere and raise the child by herself.”

At last Sarah was beginning to understand. “How much did she want?”

“A… a thousand dollars should be sufficient.” He would not look her in the eye. “Invested properly, it could bring-”

“Do you even have a thousand dollars?” Sarah asked in amazement.

“No, but-”

“And where does she propose you get it?”

This time the color staining his face was more than embarrassment. “She doesn’t know a lot about business, Mrs. Brandt, and she believes I am very successful. I work in a bank, you see, and many people believe bankers own the money in their institutions. I’m sure she has no idea that I couldn’t simply write a check for that amount.”

Sarah no longer believed this Anna was the innocent Nelson thought her. Anna’s refusal to marry him made no sense at all for a respectable girl, and Sarah was growing more concerned for Nelson every moment. “You still haven’t told me why you invited me to meet you,” she reminded him.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought it would be clear. I was hoping… that is, if you would be so kind, could you speak with Anna? She may not even be… uh… I mean, if there is no child, if that is the case, she would be under no obligation to marry me. But if she is, then… Well, I would certainly take care of her and the child, but I couldn’t possibly send her away.”

He looked so distressed that Sarah had an urge to hug him. Or slap him. How could he have gotten himself into such a predicament? She tried to imagine what his mother would say to all this. Mrs. Ellsworth had confided in Sarah many times that she wished her son would marry and have a family. She dearly wanted grandchildren to spoil before she died. Would she mind that the first of them had been conceived in such a shameful way? And what about this Anna herself? What kind of person was she to have gotten herself into such a predicament? She might be truly innocent as Nelson believed, but Sarah seriously doubted it. Most women in her position would be pathetically grateful for an offer of marriage, and many would even plead for it. Some women had been known to marry men who had raped them just to preserve their good name. In fact, men less honorable than Nelson sometimes used rape to force otherwise unwilling women to marry them. This knowledge made Sarah doubly skeptical of Anna’s protests.

Although she wasn’t certain how much assistance she could offer to either of them, she couldn’t refuse Nelson’s request. She owed it to his mother. “Where can I find Anna to speak with her?” she asked with resignation.

“Oh, Mrs. Brandt, I shall be forever in your debt!” Nelson exclaimed.

“Don’t thank me until I’ve actually done something,” she warned, knowing full well that settling this matter might take far more than her own intervention. “Where is she?”

“Her rooming house is only a block away. I can take you there right now.”

“Is she expecting you?”

Nelson flushed again. “Yes, I… that is, I often stop on my way home from work to see how she’s doing.”

Sarah refrained from complimenting him on his solicitousness. His visits to Anna were probably amply rewarded. “Let’s not keep her waiting then,” Sarah said, rising from the bench.

They walked toward the south side of the Square, where the dwellings were still small and wooden. The contrast between them and the mansions sitting on the north side was stark, clearly illustrating how the Square seemed to serve as a dividing line of sorts between rich and poor. Some of these smaller buildings dated back a hundred years, including the shack said to have sheltered Daniel Megie, the hangman who had used the famous hanging tree at the Northwest corner of the Square. Behind these buildings the streets stretched away toward the tip of Manhattan Island. Houses that had formerly been family homes were now boarding houses and tenements and brothels. Sarah reserved her comments and even her speculations until Nelson stopped before one of the smaller homes on Thompson Street.

“This is where she lives,” Nelson said. “She’s been fortunate to have such understanding landlords.”

“I thought you were paying her rent,” Sarah said, thinking they didn’t have to be understanding so much as broadminded to accept such an arrangement.

“I am,” Nelson said sheepishly, “but they could have still thrown her out and found a more reliable tenant, one who didn’t have to depend on… on the charity of others.”

“Charity” was an interesting description of Nelson’s assistance. The landlords could also have thrown her out for immoral behavior. Sarah had to assume that Nelson’s assignations with this Anna had taken place here, since he couldn’t have taken her to his own home, and renting a hotel room for such activities was probably much too daring and scandalous for Nelson even to consider. If that was the case, the landlords were broadminded indeed. Or else they were less than respectable themselves.

Sarah preceded Nelson up the steps of the stoop and allowed him to ring the bell. In a few moments a slender woman laced very tightly into a very fashionable gown of blue and silver plaid opened the front door. Her first reaction was a slight frown when she saw Sarah and didn’t recognize her. Then she noticed Nelson, and the frown become a worried scowl.

“Mr. Ellsworth, what a surprise,” she said, glancing uneasily at Sarah and back to Nelson again. “What brings you here this lovely evening?”

“Mrs. Walcott, this is Mrs. Brandt, a friend of mine whom I’ve brought to meet Miss Blake. We were hoping she would be available,” Nelson explained.

Mrs. Walcott hardly looked reassured. “A friend, you say? I’m sure I can’t imagine why you’ve brought her here to meet Miss Blake.” Mrs. Walcott was taking Sarah’s measure and apparently trying to figure out her relationship to Nelson. Sarah offered her no assistance and merely smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid Miss Blake really isn’t up to meeting anyone right now, though. She isn’t feeling well.”

Sarah thought it was very presumptuous of the landlady to make this decision for Miss Blake, but it was Nelson who replied. “Then all the more reason for her to see us. Mrs. Brandt is a trained nurse.”

Now Mrs. Walcott really was at a loss. If Anna Blake was ill, how could she turn away a nurse who might help her? But plainly, she was loath to admit Sarah to the house under any circumstances. “I… I’ll have to ask Miss Blake if she… Well, I can’t make decisions for her, now can I?” she concluded somewhat belatedly, satisfied that she had struck the proper note between concern and caution.

“We’ll be happy to wait inside while you consult with her,” Sarah said, still smiling sweetly but moving determinedly forward across the doorsill and forcing Mrs. Walcott to make way or be trampled.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she stepped back and allowed them to enter without making a fuss. Once inside, Sarah noted that Mrs. Walcott was a woman of at least thirty years whose hair was still a rich brown color and styled rather elaborately for a woman who kept a boarding house. A style like that usually required the assistance of a lady’s maid and several hours of preparation, neither of which someone of Mrs. Walcott’s situation in life was likely to have. Then it dawned on her: the landlady was wearing a wig. It was, Sarah had to concede, a clever compromise for a woman vain enough to want to look her best but who had neither the time nor the resources to accomplish it naturally.

Sarah and Nelson paused in the foyer, waiting for instructions, and Mrs. Walcott straightened, or rather stiffened, to her full height. Sarah noticed the woman was several inches taller than she’d realized, as tall as Nelson Ellsworth, in fact, yet still very feminine in spite of her modest curves. “Please, have a seat in the parlor,” she said, gesturing gracefully toward the doorway to their right. Sarah admired the lace mitts she wore. Another affectation assumed to suggest wealth, she guessed. Surely she didn’t wear lace like that all the time. It could hardly survive the labors of normal life. “I’ll see if Miss Blake can receive you.”

She turned and started up the stairs, her back ramrod straight and her stiff skirts rustling discreetly. Even Sarah had to admit she made an impressive picture.

Left to themselves, Nelson motioned for Sarah to enter the parlor. He was familiar with the place-too familiar, Sarah knew. She entered the modestly furnished room and looked around, seeking some clue as to the true character of the occupants of this house. Mrs. Walcott had taken great pains to be as simple yet elegant as she could in her decor as well as in her dress. This could have been a parlor in any middle-class family home. A pair of shepherd girl figurines adorned the mantelpiece along with some silverplated candlesticks and a few other knickknacks. The piecrust table beside the sofa held an painted glass lamp and several more inexpensive ornaments, all sitting on a lace doily. Crocheted antimacassars protected the back and arms of the sofa and chairs. The entire effect was fussy but not overly so. In short, just the impression every respectable family wanted to give.

“Do you think she’ll see me?” Sarah asked when she’d learned all she could from the room itself.

Nelson had already begun to pace. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine why she’s ill. She was perfectly fine yesterday,” he said with a worried frown.

Sarah could imagine many reasons why she might be ill, particularly if she were truly with child, but she said, “Perhaps the landlady was just making a polite excuse for her, in case she didn’t want to meet your friend.”

Nelson looked up in surprise. “I should have phrased that differently, shouldn’t I?” he asked with some concern. “I mean, we are friends, at least I hope we are, but that might have sounded-”

“It sounded perfectly fine,” Sarah assured him, “and it was perfectly correct. I’m just suggesting that perhaps Anna would like to know more about me before we meet. Or rather, before she decides if she wants us to meet.”

This prospect worried Nelson even more, but Sarah was weary of reassuring him. She took a seat on the wine-colored horsehair sofa to wait while he continued to pace restlessly. After a few moments, the front door opened, and a young woman came into the house. Dressed for the street in a navy blue serge suit and a lovely little hat that Sarah couldn’t help admiring, she had raven black hair and porcelain skin, a classic Irish lass. Not traditionally beautiful or even particularly pretty, she nevertheless was appealing with her youth and blooming health. She seemed surprised to see someone in the parlor and stepped into the doorway, peering at them curiously,

“Oh, hello, Mr. Ellsworth,” she said, her face not quite smiling as she stared beyond him at Sarah.

“Hello, Miss Porter,” he replied with the ease of familiarity. “How are you today?”

“Very well, thank you,” she said, still looking at Sarah expectantly.

Nelson reluctantly obliged her by introducing them. Sarah found she was still his “friend,” and Miss Porter, she learned, was another boarder. She seemed just as suspicious of Sarah as the landlady had been.

“Mrs. Walcott said that Miss Blake isn’t feeling well,” Nelson said, a question in his tone.

“She was fine when I went out this morning,” Miss Porter reported reassuringly, “so I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Before Nelson could reply, they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Miss Porter looked back over her shoulder and said, “Here she is now.”

Nelson hurried out into the foyer, brushing unceremoniously past Miss Porter, who gave Sarah one last curious look before nodding her head, murmuring how nice it was to have met her and politely withdrawing.

“Anna,” Sarah heard Nelson saying, “Mrs. Walcott said you were ill. Are you sure you’re well enough to receive us?”

Sarah didn’t catch the softly spoken reply, and then the mysterious Anna appeared in the doorway, clutching Nelson’s arm as if for support.

Well, Sarah couldn’t help thinking. Now she understood a lot. Anna Blake was a disturbing mixture of innocence and alluring sensuality. Dressed in a simple gingham gown, with her light brown hair tied back from her face with a ribbon and falling to her shoulders, she gave the impression of pure innocence. Yet the gingham dress clung faithfully, if modestly, to very womanly curves, and the face framed by the girlish curls wore a full-lipped, pouty frown guaranteed to stir more than protective feelings in the male breast.

Sarah rose from the sofa, feeling the need to meet Anna Blake on her own level. She tried a small smile to reassure the girl. It had exactly the opposite effect.

She turned on Nelson, her cheeks flaming. “What have I done to be humiliated like this, Mr. Ellsworth?” Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned back to Sarah. “I know why you’ve come here, but you’re wasting your time. I have no intention of forcing Mr. Ellsworth into marriage when someone else has a prior claim to his affections.”

For a moment Sarah had no idea what she was talking about, and from Nelson’s expression, he didn’t either. But then the meaning of her words sank in. “Do you think that Mr. Ellsworth and I are… are…” Sarah searched for the proper word. “Betrothed?”

From the way her expression tightened and her lovely brown eyes filled with tears, Sarah knew she was correct.

“Let me assure you that we are not engaged,” Sarah said quickly, but again her assurance had exactly the opposite effect she’d intended.

This time Anna Blake’s face crumbled in despair. “Oh, Mr. Ellsworth, you swore to me that you were a free man, and now you bring your wife here to shame me!” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and began to weep piteously into it, her round shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

“Anna, please,” Nelson begged, wanting to take her in his arms but aware of the impropriety of it with Sarah watching. “I told you the truth! Mrs. Brandt isn’t my wife or my fiancée either! Don’t cry, please. There’s no reason to cry. Mrs. Brandt is only a friend of mine, and she came here to help you.”

Sarah thought that might be stretching the truth a bit, but she said, “Mr. Ellsworth is correct. He asked me to meet you because I’m a midwife, and he thought that I could-”

“A midwife!” she fairly shrieked, raising her face from her handkerchief and glaring at him in outrage. “Have you no concern for what’s left of my good name? Why don’t you drag me to the village square and have me branded a harlot?”

“Anna, please, I didn’t mean-”

“Miss Blake!” Sarah said loudly and firmly in the voice she used to calm hysterical relatives who were upsetting her laboring patients. Both Anna and Nelson looked up at her in surprise, silenced for the moment. Sarah took advantage by saying, “I don’t have the time or the patience to argue with you, Miss Blake. Mr. Ellsworth is my neighbor, and he asked me to visit you because he was concerned for your welfare. He thought perhaps you might have mistaken your condition because of your innocence and inexperience. If that is the case, I can reassure you and there will be no need for you to distress yourself further for no reason. If you are indeed with child, then I can advise you how best to care for yourself.”

Anna Blake stared at her for a long moment. Sarah thought she was using the time to comprehend what she had said, but Anna surprised her yet again.

This time her expression was horror when she turned back to Nelson. “You brought this woman here to… to murder our child! What kind of a monster are you? If you lack the honor to provide for us, then at least have the decency to let your child live! I’d beg in the streets before I’d kill it! How can you have ever thought less of me?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Sarah said in disgust as Nelson sputtered and stammered, trying to reassure her. “I’m a midwife, not an abortionist, Miss Blake,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the wailing and the blandishments, but neither of them seemed inclined to listen. Sarah gave up. “Mr. Ellsworth, this is plainly a waste of time. If Miss Blake wishes to consult with me, you may bring her to my office. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you alone to sort this out between yourselves.”

“Mrs. Brandt, I’m so sorry,” Nelson began, but he could go no further because Anna was weeping again, sobbing as if her heart would break.

As she stepped into the foyer, Sarah noticed that Mrs. Walcott was lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, listening to everything that was being said. She stared back at Sarah unrepentantly when caught in the act, and Sarah, more than disgusted with all the inhabitants of this house, let herself out.

She paused on the stoop to take a deep breath of the crisp autumn air to clear her head. Nelson Ellsworth had gotten himself involved in a real-life melodrama. The only thing lacking was a villain with a handlebar moustache tying poor Anna Blake to the railroad tracks. Furious with herself for being drawn into the mess, she was almost back at Washington Square before she started remembering details of the scene she had just witnessed that she’d been too busy to register before.

Anna Blake appeared to be the innocent young girl Nelson believed her to be, but Sarah thought back to the moment when their eyes had first met. Anna hadn’t cringed or even seemed the least bit embarrassed, in spite of her protests to the contrary. In fact, she’d seemed almost defiant or… Sarah shook her head, certain she must have been mistaken. But no, she recalled clearly the odd impression she’d had that Anna Blake was actually glad to see Sarah, or at least relieved.

Why she should have been, Sarah had no idea. After all, if Sarah did have a prior claim to Nelson’s affections, as she’d so quaintly phrased it, she should have been as humiliated as she’d claimed to be. In fact, she’d been determined to make Sarah her rival, in spite of all the protests she and Nelson had made. And for all her weeping and protestations, Sarah couldn’t help recalling that Anna’s delicate face hadn’t grown the least bit blotchy, nor had her eyes gotten red or her little, turned-up nose started running.

Well, it was all beyond her, but since it also wasn’t her problem to solve, she mentally washed her hands of the whole situation. If Anna Blake decided to see her as a patient, she’d deal with her. If not, she’d keep her promise not to mention the situation to Nelson’s mother and let him sort it out himself.