“Hauptfuhrer?” Charles broke in. “What’s he got to do with this?”
The question appeared to be entirely sincere. I could only conclude that Lucille had told him nothing about Hauptfuhrer’s suspicions concerning Olivia’s disease. As I’d suspected, she had taken matters entirely into her own hands.
“Lucille?” Charles prompted.
She didn’t answer.
The train whistle shrieked again. “Olivia,” I continued, turning back to her, “you have a disorder called Huntington’s chorea. That’s what Dr. Hauptfuhrer told your mother. He believed that you and the Earl should know.”
“What? That’s absurd!” said Lucille, managing to sound shocked.
“The disorder can affect speech and coordination,” I pressed on, hating to blurt it out this way but having no other choice. “That’s why you’ve been having trouble with things like dancing and skating and holding on to things. The symptoms come on gradually and slowly progress.”
I thought I saw recognition flit through her eyes. She looked up at her mother. “Is it true?”
“Of course it’s not. You mustn’t listen to her. Charles, really…”
“Dr. Summerford,” Charles said, “if you have any basis for making these claims, I want to hear it now.”
“Olivia,” I said, “do you remember the gentleman at the skating party who asked if you’d lost your glove?”
Her doe eyes grew even wider in surprise. “Yes, I do.”
“That was Dr. George Huntington. The disorder is named after him. He knows more about it than anyone. And he’s nearly certain that you have it.”
“Nearly certain,” Charles repeated.
“He’d like to administer some tests,” I went on, “to confirm its existence absolutely and determine the extent of its progression, but based on what he saw that night and his own considerable experience, he’s confident of the diagnosis.”
“Don’t you think you should have talked to us about arranging these tests,” Charles asked grimly, “instead of rushing in here and alarming my daughter prematurely?”
I hesitated, glancing at the Earl. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
From the corner of my eye I saw my father squirm in his chair. “Because if she does have it, there’s a strong chance that she’ll pass it on to her children.”
There was dead silence in the car as the meaning of my words sank in.
“This is preposterous!” Lucille cried. “There’s nothing wrong with my daughter but a little fatigue.” She swept her arm toward Olivia. “Look at her. She’s perfect!”
Olivia cringed back against the settee as we all turned to stare at her. With her cheeks faintly flushed and her dark hair framing the smooth oval of her face, she did indeed look very beautiful. I felt a rush of anger toward Lucille for putting her through this unnecessary charade.
“You don’t help her by denying it,” I said. “What she needs now is your understanding and support.”
“Just a minute, Dr. Summerford,” Charles broke in, looking like a lawyer who’d just spied a loophole. “I believe you’ve missed one very important point. You’ve suggested that this disease is passed from parent to child. But I can assure you that neither Lucille nor I have suffered any of the symptoms that you describe.”
I was astonished to hear him say it. Though I’d been compelled to reveal the disease’s hereditary nature, I doubted that either Olivia or anyone else in the room had grasped the full implications. I could think of no reason for Charles to highlight them now. I should have thought that he and Lucille would prefer to inform Olivia that she was adopted in private.
Perhaps he’d misunderstood, believing I’d meant that the disease was “passed” by a germ. “I meant that the illness is passed in the parents’ genes,” I said, elaborating as delicately as possible. “Olivia didn’t ‘catch’ this disorder; she was born with it.”
“I understand. But it’s not in our genes, so we couldn’t have passed it to her,” Charles insisted.
It seemed he was going to force me to make blatantly clear what I had tried to leave implicit. “It’s not in your genes,” I said slowly, glancing at Olivia, “but it was, apparently, in the genes of her natural father.”
“Her ‘natural father’?” he repeated with a frown. “What the devil are you talking about?”
The breath suddenly stopped in my throat, as understanding dawned. Charles didn’t know. His wife had never told him that his daughter was adopted. He turned to Lucille in bewilderment.
Her eyes were huge in her chalk-white face. “I had to give you a child,” she whispered. “I couldn’t have one of my own; they told me after the last miscarriage it would kill me if I got pregnant again. So I found another way.”
“What are you saying?” Charles demanded. “You did get pregnant again. You were pregnant with Olivia.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I wasn’t. I only pretended to be, until the baby was ready.”
He stared at her bowed head, clearly at a loss for words.
She looked up. “Dr. Hauptfuhrer found her for me,” she went on, her eyes clinging to him as though he might disappear at any moment. “I told him it had to be a little girl—a little dark-haired girl, just like you’d always wanted…”
“You adopted a child,” he said slowly, “and didn’t tell me?”
“What difference does it make?” she asked, her voice growing shrill. “You’re her father! You raised her! She’s a Fiske, through and through.”
He closed his eyes, releasing a long breath.
“There was nothing wrong with the parents,” she insisted, glaring at me. “She’s making it all up! You mustn’t believe her!”
“There’s no point in denying it,” I said. “I can prove that you went to see Dr. Hauptfuhrer four days before his death; your name was written in his appointment book. Why would he ask to see you, if it wasn’t to warn you that your daughter might be afflicted?”
“I asked to see him, because the Earl’s barristers were pestering me for a copy of Olivia’s birth certificate!” she retorted, her eyes ablaze. “I had to be sure that the original records had been properly prepared. He never said anything about any disease!”
Her response was too quick and plausible to be a fabrication. I stared at her in stunned silence, as the puzzle pieces in my mind broke apart and reassembled into a brand-new picture. When Dr. Hauptfuhrer hadn’t been able to get confirmation from Dr. Huntington that Eliza had chorea, he must have lost his nerve. He’d never told Lucille he suspected her daughter was afflicted. The secret that Lucille had been holding so close—a secret that, I realized now, would be even worse in her mind than a daughter’s fatal illness—was that she’d been unable to bear Charles a child. No wonder she’d thought I was blackmailing her; when I’d found out that Olivia was adopted, I’d unwittingly uncovered her Achilles’ heel.
The Earl was getting to his feet. “Are you saying you gave my agents a false certificate?” he demanded of Lucille.
She threw him a withering look. “What do you care? Our money is real enough. That’s all that’s ever mattered to you, isn’t it?”
He thrust out his narrow chest. “I understand that you are distraught, madam, and apt to say things you don’t mean. I cannot, however, overlook the significance of this disturbing information. The Branard line is a venerable one; each generation has a duty to ensure that those who follow are of sound body and mind. Under the circumstances—and despite the deep distress it causes me—I must regretfully decline to pursue a union with your daughter. I’m sure I need not remind you that, in light of the false documentation you submitted, any oral understanding to the contrary would never hold up in a court of law.”
He turned and bowed to Olivia. “My sincerest regrets, my dear. Please be assured that you may count on my complete discretion. If I can be
of any assistance to you in the future, I hope you won’t hesitate to let me know.” He glanced in my direction. For a ghastly moment, I thought he was going to thank me—but he only tipped his head and, donning his derby, started for the forward compartments.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lucille snapped.
He paused, turning back to her. “I am instructing my valet to remove my luggage from the train.”
“Get back here this instant!” she demanded. “Nothing has changed.”
My mother stood and crossed over to her. “Lucille, no,” she said quietly, laying a hand on her arm. “This isn’t the way.”
Lucille’s eyes ranged over her face. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but something in my mother’s expression seemed to stop her. Her shoulders drooped, and she sagged against my mother’s bracing arm.
With a curt bow, the Earl was gone. Mother guided Lucille toward a divan beneath one of the windows, which left Olivia by herself on the settee. The girl was clearly in a state of shock. Father and I glanced at each other, but it wasn’t our place to offer comfort. Just when I thought I could stand it no longer, an audible whimper escaped her, breaking Charles from his trance.
He got up from his chair and went over to sit beside her. “Forget about him,” he said, awkwardly patting her knee. “You’re better off without him if you ask me. I never could stand the man.”
“I don’t care about the Earl,” she said, shaking her head, “but what’s going to become of me? Oh, Father, I—” She stopped, looking stricken.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him. “I have always been your father, Olivia, and I always will be. That’s one thing you need never question.” He looked up at me. “All right, Doctor,” he said, already taking charge, “tell me how we’re going to beat this thing. Money, as I’m sure you’re aware, is no object.”
“Well, there are things we can do to ameliorate her symptoms,” I said slowly, “and to make her more comfortable as the condition progresses. But there is no cure, as of yet.”
Olivia’s hand rose to her throat.
“Then I’ll find one,” Charles said, squeezing her shoulders more tightly, barely missing a beat. “Hugh,” he asked my father, “what’s the name of that fellow you think so much of at the medical lab?”
“Tim Murdoch?” Father replied.
“That’s the one.” Charles turned toward the forward compartments. “Billings!” he shouted. “Tell them to uncouple the car. We’re staying here!” He turned back to Father. “Call Murdoch and tell him to meet us first thing tomorrow at the lab. We’ll need to get ahold of this Huntington fellow too. Genevieve, do you know where he can be reached?”
“He’s in town right now, staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” I wasn’t about to discourage him. Perhaps science alone hadn’t yet been able to come up with a cure, but science, money, and love together? It was a powerful combination.
I stayed for a few more minutes, listening to my mother croon to Lucille on the divan and Father and Charles lay out their plan of attack. My part here, however, was done. If anyone had more questions for me later, I would answer them. But I thought we’d all had enough truth for one day.
Leaving the car as I’d come in, I found the guests still clustered on the platform, no doubt hoping for more grist for the gossip mill. Their eager buzz of conversation came to a stop as I climbed down the steps from the observation deck. I paused at the bottom, chilled by their predatory stares.
Simon materialized beside me, offering his elbow. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?” he asked. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?”
I laid my hand gratefully on his arm, and he escorted me across the platform. The gawking guests fell away at our approach, some of the younger women, I observed, regarding Simon with considerable interest. “Careful,” I muttered under my breath. “They don’t see many like you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but I noticed he wasn’t looking back.
We continued through the gate, out of the annex, and into the waiting room, stopping only when we had reached a quiet spot away from the streaming foot traffic. “So how did she take it?” he finally asked me.
“You know, it’s strange,” I told him, “but I think she already knew, in a way. Just as Dr. Huntington suggested. Now, at least, she has a clearer idea of what she’s up against. And I think her parents are going to stand by her.”
He cocked his head, studying me. “And what about you?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
I considered his question carefully, putting it not only to my logical self, but to my other selves as well. “Yes,” I answered. “I believe I am.” Whatever came of my actions today, I had no regrets. I had done what my heart told me to—and that, I knew now, was the only authority that mattered.
Merging again with the flow of pedestrians, we returned to the entrance at the far side of the waiting room. “Where’s Cleo?” I asked, peering through the open double doors of the entryway.
“Don’t worry, she’s fine. Paddy and Mike are watching out for her.”
“Paddy and Mike?” I remembered the two red-faced policemen who’d been trying to dismount him just a short while ago. “You’re on a first-name basis already?”
He shrugged. “It turns out Mike has a cousin in need of a job—”
“And you just happen to know of one that needs filling,” I finished for him.
He smiled wryly. We looked at each other in silence, neither of us seeming to know what else to say.
“Well, I suppose I ought to get Cleo back to the stable before Oliver pops a cork,” Simon said finally.
“Yes, I suppose you should,” I agreed, although I didn’t want him to go. I had a terrible feeling that if we said good-bye now, it might be for the last time.
“Can we offer you a lift?”
I laughed. “I think I’ll take the El this time. I have to be at Eliza’s by four o’clock.”
He nodded. “How is she faring?”
“She’s been through a lot,” I said simply. “But I think she’s going to be all right.”
The awkward silence returned. Reluctantly, I extended my hand. “Thank you, Simon. For everything.”
He hesitated. Although he’d gotten better at concealing his emotions over the years, I thought I glimpsed something in his eyes that I recognized from long ago. “Good-bye, Genna,” he said at last, shaking my hand. “You take care of yourself.” He turned and started out through the vestibule.
I watched him go, feeling as if all the air in the room was leaving with him. So that was that. He would return to his life, and I would return to mine. Which was exactly as it should be. All the reasons I’d told myself we shouldn’t be together still held true.
And yet, as I watched him walk away, those reasons seemed to dissolve and float into the ether. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t care if it made sense, or what anyone else might think; I wasn’t going to let him go a second time. “Simon, wait!”
He turned.
Running up to him, I grasped his face between both hands and kissed him full on the mouth.
He pulled my hands away. “What are you doing?” he asked gruffly.
His lips were surprisingly, deliciously familiar. “Kissing you,” I answered with my eyes still shut, savoring the taste of him.
“I got that part. But why?”
I opened my eyes reluctantly. It was a good question. Though I had no doubts at all about my feelings for Simon, I wasn’t quite sure what I meant to do with them. It seemed as though I was only beginning to know myself; I didn’t want to have to try to change into whatever he—or anyone else—wanted me to be.
“You don’t want to start something you can’t finish,” he said when I didn’t answer.
I felt a moment of panic, but calmed again as I looked into his steady eyes. I d
idn’t know if we could beat the odds, or if we’d only end up hating each other. But I was willing to find out. “I thought—I thought we might just take it one step at a time.”
A smile played over his lips, as he recognized the advice he’d given me after the ball. “Well, I don’t suppose I can argue with that, now can I?”
“I don’t see how,” I said, shaking my head.
His face grew serious. “So long as you understand that once I’ve decided a thing’s worth having, I don’t generally stop until it’s mine.”
I saw it for certain, then, in his eyes: the same mix of desire and self-restraint that had melted me like caramel that night in the stable, so many moons ago. “Point taken,” I said thickly.
He tipped his head. “I guess I’ll be seeing you, then.” He backed away, holding me in his sights with a fixity of expression that made my whole body flush, before he turned and walked out the door.
Grinning idiotically, I floated back to the east side of the station and out to the street, emerging to find that the storm hadn’t abated at all. Snow had been falling faster than people or vehicles could trample it down, painting everything a pristine white. The whole world, I thought, looked brand-new. I tilted back my head, letting the fat flakes melt on my skin, feeling the tensions of the past weeks release their hold.
I gazed up at the station’s round turrets, which had replaced the original mansard towers only a few years before. Soon, the whole building was going to be demolished so that a more modern terminal could replace it. Just as horse-drawn trains had been replaced by steam locomotives, and as electric engines were now replacing them. And it wasn’t just the train station; the whole city was in perpetual flux, constantly shedding the old to bring in the new, thereby keeping itself alive.
I was going to do the same, I decided. Wasn’t that what we were here for, after all? To reinvent ourselves each waking moment, through the risks we took and the choices we made? I thought of the parts of Elizabeth’s fractured self, consigned to play the same limited roles day after day, unable to survive on their own precisely because of their inability to learn and adapt. But I was not so confined; I could choose not to listen to the external voice of authority, or to an echo from my past. It was up to me. This was my game, and I was going to play it from this moment on. I started up the sidewalk, crunching new snow under my shoes. At the intersection, I turned to look back. My footprints were the only marks in the snow. Fresh tracks, leading to a new future. Whatever future I chose.
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