Chapter 1
The Children’s Aid Society’s Girls’ Lodging House
New York City, December 1880
Lucien Boyesten was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be done with this matter so he could return to Boston.
“Madam, you have had ample time to consider my request. I do not understand the delay in concluding our arrangement,” he said, his speech heavy with a Brahmin accent. “As I have indicated, my wife died a year ago, and since my banking business requires that I travel a great deal, I desire a companion for my ten-year-old daughter, Emma. A sister if you will. Not some scruffy guttersnipe, of course, but one suitable to be a part of my family. A well-spoken child. One who is pleasing to the eye and possessing a pleasant disposition.”
Lucien tugged the corner of his thick mustache, his icy gray eyes fixed on the somber woman sitting across from him. Despite the hint of former beauty, her expressionless face, the severity of her black, funereal dress, and her no-nonsense demeanor convinced him she would not be easily swayed by his charm.
Clara Dermot knotted her hands on her desk and regarded the elegantly dressed gentleman before her with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Handsome, fit, rich, and arrogant. Imposing and not someone to be taken lightly, but still…. Pausing to collect her thoughts, she met his haughty gaze with a steely version of her own.
“I’m sure you understand that as matron of the Girls’ Lodging House, it is my responsibility to ensure the well-being of the young wards in my charge. I applaud your desire to provide your daughter with a companion, but my foremost concern is making sure our girls are welcomed into loving homes as members of the family. May I ask why you are seeking to adopt a child here in New York instead of in Boston?”
Lucien gave his mustache another tug. “In my travels I became aware of your organization’s placing-out program and the trains carrying orphaned children westward. It occurred to me that I am in a position to offer a needy child a good home while providing my daughter with a companion. The loss of her mother has been very difficult for her. A playmate—a sister—would surely make her less lonely and help her return to the sunny child she has always been.”
The matron searched Boyesten’s face for any signs that his intentions were honorable. Finding none, she pressed him further. “Are you certain your daughter will embrace her as a sister rather than resent her as an intruder?”
Lucien’s face darkened; his thick black eyebrows arched. “I can assure you that she will be welcomed in the most loving way. Emma is of the sweetest nature, and she would be delighted to have a sister.”
“And who cares for your daughter while you are away on business?”
A vein pulsating in his neck, Lucien cleared his throat before answering. “I have employed a governess, Miss Adella Armitage. She tutors Emma and is perfectly capable of overseeing two charges,” he said, his narrowed eyes peering out from under long, dark lashes.
A practical woman, Clara Dermot suppressed her simmering dislike of the man and weighed the many advantages the banker could offer a child—one child in particular—against the unknowns she knew awaited the children sent out West on the orphan trains.
“Mr. Boyesten, before we can discuss any arrangements, I must have your assurance that you are adopting a child with the full intention of providing and caring for her as you would your own daughter, and that you will see to it that she has an education equal to the one you provide Emma.”
“Madam, you have my word.”
“There is a nine-year-old, Rose, who came to us two years ago. She is an exceptionally bright child, and I have no doubt that she would make an excellent sister to your daughter. If you can return tomorrow afternoon, I will arrange for you to meet her. If all goes well, we can make the necessary arrangements.”
Eager to be done with the meeting, Lucien nodded. “I look forward to meeting the child,” he said, his lips parting in a waxen smile that barely disguised his irritation at having to remain in New York an extra day.
***
Clara stood staring out her office window long after her visitor had departed. Gripped by crippling indecision, she struggled to calm her warring emotions. Could she set aside her misgivings about Lucien Boyesten in the hope of providing Rose a chance for a better life?
Memories of the day Officer Cullen brought Rose to the Girls’ Lodging House banished all logical thought. Images of the terrified child haunted her. Struggling to free herself from the officer’s clutches, Rose’s wild eyes had darted about the room searching for a way to escape. Only after Rose had exhausted herself and remained quiet in his arms, did Cullen relax his hold on her. Breathing hard, her face mottled with fear and rage, her hands balled into tiny fists, she glared at them, her eyes slits of anger.
Frightened, yet so fierce, Clara remembered. So like…. Her hand traveled to the gold chain she always wore, her fingers tracing the locket’s intricately engraved design before releasing its latch. Frozen in time, forever six years old, her daughter Anna, raven-haired and with emerald green eyes, clutched her favorite doll and stared back at her.
“I knew at that moment that Rose was special,” she whispered to the smiling face. “It took months, but she finally revealed the bright, sweet child she’d kept locked away. She made friends easily and was so curious and eager to learn. Precocious, just like you, my sweet angel. Just like you.”
Twilight descended like a velvet curtain, turning the street below a hue of gray, the buildings to ghostly silhouettes. Standing in the semi-darkness, Clara knew her attachment to Rose and the reasons she’d contrived to keep her from placement on an orphan train were the selfish longings of a desperate heart. Now, the hollowed-out emptiness that had taken hold when Anna succumbed to diphtheria was once again embedding itself deep into her soul. Wrapped in a thick fog that clouded her subconscious, images of Rose morphed into Anna.