The Address(53)

She’d completely forgotten. “Right.” She yanked the ledger out of the top shelf of the bookcase, opening it up to the correct page.

“Don’t bother. I can do that myself. Daisy, fetch me a cup of coffee.”

Once Daisy had left, Mr. Douglas lowered himself into the chair behind the desk with a groan. Sara sat opposite him, hands in her lap, in case he had any questions. After ten minutes of turning pages, the only sound the scratch of his pen, he peered over his spectacles at her. “This is a frightful mess, Mrs. Smythe.”

She’d never been chastised by Mr. Douglas before. “I’m sorry, Mr. Douglas. Next week it’ll be much better, I promise.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve adjusted the figures. Really, Mrs. Smythe. I’m surprised.” He scanned the top of the desk with irritation, looking for something. “Do you have blotting paper?”

“Of course. Lower drawer on the left.”

She heard the drawer slide open, followed by a wheezy exhalation from Mr. Douglas.

He looked up at her. “Mrs. Smythe.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You found Mrs. Camden’s necklace?”

She shook her head. Partly as an answer and partly in an attempt to clear the fuzziness in her mind. His words sounded like they came through water. Or maybe she’d misheard.

Instead of pulling out a sheet of blotting paper, a string of brilliant colors hung from his outstretched fingers like a waterfall.

The necklace. The craftsmanship was breathtaking: three tiers of pearls connected to a front piece with four large emeralds embedded in gold.

Daisy appeared with a cup of coffee, which she almost dropped when she saw the jewelry.

Sara’s mouth was dry, her limbs heavy.

Mr. Douglas rose to his feet. “It appears that we’ve found the missing necklace. In Mrs. Smythe’s desk, of all places.”

Sara shook her head. What was wrong with her? She could barely get out the words to speak. Mr. Douglas and Daisy were both looking at her as if she had two heads, waiting for her to say something. She imagined her other self, the one that she knew so well, who would take charge and get to the bottom of the mystery and at the very least not stand here mute like an idiot. But she could not form the words.

“Is something wrong with her?” said Mr. Douglas.

Sara stared over at Daisy, begging her to keep quiet, not say a word.

Then she fell to the floor, giving in to the blackness with the abandon of a drowsy child.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



New York City, January 1885


When Sara came to, she was in the staff sitting room in the basement, lying on a hard settee. The room was furnished with castoffs from the new residents, including unmatched, scratched-up chairs and a couple of wobbly tea tables. Sometimes the maids gathered here for a game of whist in the evenings, but mostly the room sat unused, as there was simply too much to do and by the end of the day the workers were too exhausted to bother with socializing.

Mr. Douglas sat in a chair opposite her, his round form squeezed in between the arms. She wondered if he’d be able to rise without taking the piece with him. A small giggle escaped from her lips.

“I see you’re recovering,” said Mr. Douglas.

“Sir, yes.” She sat upright, fighting a wave of dizziness. To lie horizontal and not have to speak or be spoken to, that was all she wanted right now.

“Do you remember what’s happened?”

The necklace. Of course. It had been found in her desk.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Douglas, I don’t know what’s wrong.” Her eyelids began drooping. “I haven’t been feeling well, but that’s the first time I’ve seen that necklace, I’m certain. How did I get down here?”

He rubbed his chin with the edge of his nubby index finger. “A couple of the porters carried you down. Thank God there were no tenants coming or going. This is a terrible situation we’re in. Do you need to see a doctor?”

What if the doctor guessed her condition? “No, I’m fine. That’s not necessary. The necklace. I’m sure there’s an explanation. There must be. Please, I must speak with Mr. Camden.”

“He’s not available at the moment.” He breathed out a deep sigh, and his acrid breath made her nose crinkle. “As you can understand, Mrs. Smythe, we cannot have an occurrence such as this at the Dakota. We will need to make a full investigation, and I suggest that you go with the police and answer their questions fully.”

“The police?”

Mr. Douglas stood and opened the door. Two men in uniform came forward and lifted her up by her arms.

She craned her neck, searching for Mr. Douglas. “Where are they taking me?”

“Simply answer their questions and you’ll be back here in no time. Go quietly.” He looked at the men. “Take her up the ramp and out to Seventy-Third Street. Not the main gates.”

The general haze that had wrapped around her thoughts the past week lifted, and for a few seconds her thinking rang clear. She was being arrested for stealing, taken away. “Please, I must speak with Mr. Camden before I go.”

Mr. Douglas patted her arm as he would a child’s. “For now, go along with these men. It’s all a misunderstanding, most likely. The main thing is we have the jewelry and I doubt Mrs. Camden is interested in making a fuss. But we do have to get to the bottom of all this. Don’t you agree? I’m sure you want that as much as I do.” He shook his head and spoke to the policemen. “Of course, I knew we were taking a chance with putting a woman in charge, as sometimes pretty baubles can be too difficult to resist.”