Chapter Sixty-One
THE CARPATHIA PULLED INTO NEW YORK HARBOR CARRYING a little over seven hundred passengers from the Titanic. My mother was met there by my uncle George, who escorted her to the family’s Pullman car, which took them home to Lynnewood Hall.
Ada went by herself to the Martha Washington Hotel, where she and I had dined so happily together only weeks earlier.
At the front desk, Ada found a telegram from Quaritch waiting for her.
Please confirm you have arrived in New York and are safe after the Titanic catastrophe. Will send funds for you to purchase necessities while in N.Y. Please extend stay as discussed earlier. B.A.Q.
Ada sent a telegram in return.
Arrived in New York. Fear Harry Elkins Widener lost at sea. A. Lippoldt
She did not mention the loss of the bejeweled Rubaiyat. As her telegram so plainly stated, she was instead focused on the loss of me.
Each morning at the Martha Washington Hotel, the newspaper headlines reminded Ada of the tragedy. The confirmations of the dead, next to the testimonies of those who had been saved, took up pages upon pages of newsprint.
Ada slept fitfully in the night, then deeply during the day. She ate very little, taking only tea and toast in her room. Her mind constantly replayed the ship’s sinking and our hurried, final farewell.
On the third day, she finally managed to write to Quaritch and thank him for the receipt of the funds for her to live on while in America and also to acknowledge that the Rubaiyat had sunk along with the Titanic into the sea.
She tried to perform her obligations for Quaritch, writing to his patrons on the eastern seaboard.
She scheduled meetings with Belle da Costa Greene, the bookseller George Smith, who Quaritch considered a friend and rival, as well as Theodore Schulte, who was supposedly a rising star in the Manhattan book scene, only to cancel each of them an hour beforehand.
On the evening of April 27th, after nearly two weeks cocooned in her room, she finally went outside for some fresh air. When she returned to the hotel, the clerk at the front desk handed her several telegrams that had been left unread in her mailbox.
She took them up to her room and sifted through them. Nearly all were from Quaritch, beseeching her to keep him informed of her activities across the pond. His inquiries began with great sensitivity, then grew to frustration. The last one, dated that very afternoon, escalated in its tone:
Concerned. Previous telegrams have gone unanswered. I have learned you’ve canceled meetings. Please inform me if you need assistance. Office has confirmed receipt of wire transfer. Sangorski wants to file a claim with his insurance company. Please respond as soon as possible. B.A.Q.
The next day, she vowed she would reply to Quaritch. She tried to will herself out of bed, despite what had become a debilitating fatigue. She told herself she must get back to her responsibilities, and the first order at hand was getting herself dressed.
Ada stood in front of the long mirror in her hotel room and gazed at her reflection.
The white silk blouse that she had been given while onboard the Carpathia and had fit her loosely then, now felt tight around her chest. Her breast felt tender and swollen.
She could barely fasten the buttons closed.
It was then a fear gripped her, the realization that perhaps it was more than just grief that had taken root inside her.
She cupped her stomach and prayed it was just a trick of her imagination. Ada had carved out a career using her powers of observation and a strong instinct. She suspected that she was not wrong.
The next afternoon, Ada was fueled by a new adrenaline.
The fatigue had not waned, and her monthly cycle was now several days late, but the fear of her situation propelled her into action.
She knew she had to start preparing for a shift in her story.
Would a visit to see Harry’s mother at Lynnewood Hall be in order?
Would she want to know that Ada was carrying her dear son’s child?
But there was the first matter at hand to deal with.
How could she explain such a trip to Quaritch?
She sat down and finally responded to him, using her most professional tone.
Dear Mr. Quaritch,
I first must apologize for being so negligent in my work duties following my arrival in New York. Witnessing the horror of the Titanic’s sinking, with so many innocent lives lost, has taken far longer than I thought to recover from.
While I did not know Mr. Harry Widener for a very long time, his loss to both his family and the book world is a tremendous one.
I think perhaps I should inquire about visiting his friend Dr. Rosenbach in Philadelphia, in the hope of ensuring that our relationship with the family and their book collection stays strong. Please advise.
In the meantime, please wire me instructions regarding what statements I need to provide to Sangorski’s insurance company. I apologize I was unable to bring the Rubaiyat safely to New York as planned, but the circumstances as you know were quite impossible.
Sincerely,
Ada Lippoldt
In the days that followed, Ada’s stomach began to clench and the waves of nausea became more frequent. Her room did not have a private bathroom and, wanting to obscure her morning sickness from any gossip, she made sure she pulled the flush chain just before she vomited into the porcelain bowl.
She learned that a few dry crackers could sustain her during the day as she forced herself to go to her appointments. At the Plaza Hotel, she finally met Belle da Costa Greene, who was dressed in a beautiful pine-colored coat and matching hat.
“Why, Miss Lippoldt, I’m concerned by your pallor. It looks nearly as green as my coat,” she remarked. “Perhaps your horrific ordeal at sea isn’t yet fully behind you.”
“I’m getting better each day, Miss Greene. But it has been a challenge.”
They ordered tea and Belle was aflutter with all the chatter concerning those who had perished, particularly those in the book world.
“A tragedy about the young Mr. Harry Widener,” she said. “Mr. Morgan had the greatest respect for him and I always enjoyed our conversation when he came to visit our library. It’s a terrible loss.”
“Indeed.” Ada averted her eyes, not wanting to cry.
“And is it true that the garish Rubaiyat went down with the ship as well?”
“It is true,” Ada confirmed.
“Well, that’s not such a painful loss. But the miniature Bacon from the Huth sale…
that’s just devastating. And I’ve heard Mr. Widener told Mr. Quaritch that he would never take it off his person.
Why, if ever a bibliophile could achieve legendary status, surely that is now the late lamented Mr. Widener! ”
Ada’s stomach churned, and she thought she would become sick if she didn’t excuse herself right away.
“I just need a moment,” she said and then went to the powder room to compose herself.
When Ada returned, she tried to change the subject.
“As I’m sure you are aware, there is no more esteemed icon for the few female book lovers in these rarefied circles we dwell in.
So I wanted to ask you for some advice, Miss Greene,” she began.
“I want to make the most of my time here in the United States, perhaps even extend my stay longer than the three weeks I was supposed to be here.”
She took a sip of her tea and forced a smile. “As you might imagine, I’m in no great hurry to get on a boat again!”
“I can imagine that quite easily,” Belle agreed.
“Thank you for your compassion,” Ada answered. “I hope you don’t mind my asking you a question in regards to my career. I admire you so much and all you’ve managed to accomplish.”
Belle smiled. “No, please go ahead. I welcome questions. Curiosity is a sign of strong intelligence.”
“Where might you see a need for someone like myself within the American book-collecting world?”
Belle considered her thoughts before answering.
“Well, you know there are a few exciting changes starting to happen for we women over here. Why, Ruth Granniss has been the librarian at the Grolier Club for a few years now, despite them not allowing women as members. And she is a treasure trove of knowledge and expertise. Of course she’s acquiring them for the club, but she’s a sophisticated collector in her own right,” Belle emphasized.
“And, just last year, a young woman by the name of Rachel McMasters wrote to me a letter telling me how intrigued she was with my work in the book world.” Belle reached for another sip of tea.
“Then this Christmas, I received a card from her, telling me she had gone to her first book sale and purchased a copy of Jardin d’Hyver ou Cabinet des Fleurs by Jean Franeau because she wanted to start her own personal botanical library!”
Ada paused. She wasn’t exactly sure what Belle might be suggesting.
“If I were you, Miss Lippoldt, I would consider cultivating the patronage of female book collectors here. They do exist, I assure you. Many of them come from considerable means and demonstrate nearly as much passion for collecting as men like my Mr. Morgan. I encourage you to do a little digging, and I’m sure you will find at least a few who would benefit from your expertise. ”
Ada felt that she’d been given a gift by Belle.
No one was focusing on these women and their book tastes.
Belle da Costa Greene had the unique job of purchasing books for one of the wealthiest men in America.
But what if she could do what Belle had suggested and ingratiate herself with the women who were nowhere near as visible, but still had the knowledge and the means?
It would be something that Quaritch would probably turn his nose up at. But Rosenbach? She had an inkling that he might, like any good American, just see it as an opportunity for expansion. After all, it was a veritable new frontier.