The Address(75)

“Her name is Natalia Fabiano, and I can’t leave her.”

Natalia took Sara’s face in her hands. “Of course you can. You go now.” They hugged.

The horn of the boat blew and Sara and Nellie made their way to the dock, to the cheers of the inmates. The nurses tried to shush them but in vain, and Natalia’s voice soared above them all.

“Sara Smythe! Don’t forget us!”

It wasn’t until the boat pulled away and the sailor in front tossed the thick rope onto the dock that Sara fully understood the sudden change in the course of her life. Nellie shoved a newspaper into her hands. Sara pored over the front-page article where the sordid details of Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum were laid out, one after another: the cold baths, the beatings, the sadistic staff, and the hours and hours of torturous sitting, word after terrible word, for the entire city to read. The byline read MISS NELLIE BLY.

“You’re a hero.” Sara grabbed Nellie’s hand. “You pretended to be mad? What were you thinking?”

“To be honest, I was thinking that it would make a good story. But once I was there, I realized how truly awful it was, and how no one in the city proper knew what was going on. I was certain that if they knew, they’d care, and I was right. This is only the first step. A commission has been set up and they’ve committed one million dollars to straighten the place out.”

A million dollars. The sum was unimaginable.

“But why have I alone been pardoned? What about the others? Many of the women at Blackwell’s are there only because they don’t speak enough English to defend themselves.”

“Believe me, I understand the injustices perpetrated against the women imprisoned on Blackwell’s. I’ll explain later, at dinner, the reason you are free and they’re not. First, we have to get you settled and cleaned up. Don’t be offended, but you’re rather ripe.”

In another time, Sara would have been horrified at the thought. But she couldn’t find it in herself to feel embarrassed. She was free.

After taking a carriage that was waiting for them on the other side of the river, they pulled up in front of the marble-clad Fifth Avenue Hotel on Twenty-Third Street.

“Courtesy of the World, you are getting a well-deserved pampering,” announced Nellie. “And me, too, which I am looking forward to enormously.”

A crowd was gathered outside, what looked like newspapermen gathered in a pack. Nellie took her hand. “Ignore them, follow me, just walk right through.”

“Why are they here? Do they know who I am?”

“Everyone knows who you are, darling.”

A bellboy whisked them up the elevator to a suite on the top floor. The room was lavishly appointed, with a red silk bedspread and matching chaise, purple heart marquetry and Turkish rugs.

“This is for me?” Sara’s heart beat fast. The sudden change in her fortune overwhelmed her. What she truly wanted to do was to find Theo, but she’d never be able to leave without stirring up the reporters gathered outside.

“All for you. I’ll call the maid to run you a bath, and there are several dresses and underclothes to choose from in the armoire. Take your time and then we’ll go down for supper and I’ll explain everything.”

The warm, welcome buoyancy of the bath nearly did Sara in. Her hands were chafed and raw, and her limbs seemed like they belonged to someone else. Although she didn’t want to see her reflection, the looking glass was too tempting to avoid. The loss of weight made her eyes seem bigger, her skull a massive weight on a scrawny neck. She looked like a creature from a nightmare.

A maid helped her into silk underclothes and a fawn-colored gown. After the rough wool and calico of her Blackwell’s uniform, it was like having butterfly wings next to her skin. She sat before the mirror and let the woman put up her hair in a chignon.

When her soft touch threatened to send Sara into an emotional tailspin, she remembered sitting at the asylum and concentrated on her breathing. Air in, air out.

Nellie knocked at the door and smiled when she saw her. “Well, don’t you look a treat.”

“Can we have supper in here?” Sara asked. “I’m not sure if I can be out in public. I don’t feel like myself.”

Nellie shook her head. “You’ll do fine. I’ve booked a table in the corner, just for the two of us. This is a posh hotel; no one will bother you.”

Downstairs, Nellie led the way across the parquet floor to their table, and Sara sat with her back to the room so as not to attract any more attention than she possibly could. Nellie ordered their dinner and then dove into the details.

“After I got out, I did some digging into your story. Did you know that just a few months after you’d been taken off, another worker at the Dakota had been sent to jail for stealing from tenants?”

“Who was that?”

“A Miss Daisy Cavanaugh.”

Sara inhaled sharply. “Not Daisy. That couldn’t be.”

“Apparently, she’d been filching things for some time. They found a stash of timepieces, hair clips, rings, in her room. Like a raccoon, drawn to shiny things.”

“But they found the necklace I was supposed to have stolen in my desk drawer.” Daisy had been Sara’s one friend and confidante since coming to America, and they had grown even closer since the loss of the girl’s mother. “What if she was set up as well? I knew Daisy; she was a good girl; she wouldn’t have done such a thing.”