Chapter Seventy
AMALIE GREETED ROSENBACH AND ADA AT THE DOOR.
“Welcome,” she said. “I apologize that we have limited staff today with it being Sunday, but Mrs. Widener wanted me to personally greet you.”
“I’ve brought these for Mrs. Widener,” Ada said. She handed over a bouquet of lavender roses to the maid.
They walked into the great hall with its vaulted ceiling. Corinthian columns carved in high relief encircled the room, and several arched niches were adorned with carved garlands. In one of them, an enormous imperial vase was proudly displayed on a bronze pedestal.
Ada noticed a brocade tapestry hanging from the second floor, above the grand stairwell lined in rich red carpet. And flanking either side of the wrought iron stairwell were towering gilded candelabras, creating an opulent entranceway fit for royalty.
“She’ll meet you in the reception room,” Amalie said. “This way.”
The two of them followed her to a room just off the great hall; Amalie gently pushed open the French doors.
The room was exquisite, decorated in rich Louis XVI furniture and details.
Wooden panels were embellished with ornate gold carvings and upholstered in dark green velvet.
A large oval mirror hung from above the marble fireplace.
Amethyst chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft lavender light.
“Doctor Rosenbach,” Eleanor said quietly. “It is so very kind of you to visit.” Her voice was barely a whisper; it sounded like it had been wrapped in cotton.
“It is my pleasure,” he said and lowered his eyes out of respect.
“Please, both of you sit down.”
They each took a seat on one of the two Pekinese-yellow silk sofas. The bright color seemed at odds with the somber feeling that engulfed the room.
“I must apologize, Doctor… The last time you visited, I was not myself.”
She straightened herself up, then turned her head to look out the window. “One cannot prepare themselves for grief. It overtakes a person, the way a vine can choke even the hardiest tree.”
“You have been incredibly strong, Mrs. Widener. And the world admires your strength.”
“What does the world know of my strength—or my tears,” she said harshly, before catching herself.
“Amalie, will you be so kind as to put those flowers in some water and bring some refreshments for our guests?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Amalie said as she left the room.
“Thank you for the flowers. You needn’t have brought me anything,” she said to Rosenbach.
“They were actually Miss Lippoldt’s idea… She was kind enough to inform me that lavender is a special color. It compliments any complexion or any room,” he said with a chuckle. “I had no idea.”
“A wise woman.” Eleanor smiled.
“Indeed,” Rosenbach agreed. “Miss Lippoldt is working with me at the moment,” Rosenbach introduced her. “She actually worked with Harry on his last purchases from Mr. Quaritch in London.” He paused. “And she was on the Titanic as well.”
Eleanor’s eyes locked with Ada’s. “You knew my Harry?”
“Yes. I assisted with his acquisition of the Bacon essays and a few other books as well.”
“And why were you on the Titanic?”
Ada took a deep breath. “I was chaperoning a very expensive copy of the Rubaiyat.”
“The one with all the jewels?” Eleanor leaned slightly forward, her black mourning beads dangled just above her lap.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
Eleanor settled back in her chair just as Amalie came in with the tray. She waited to say anything further until Amalie had finished serving everyone their tea and sweets.
“Harry told me about that book. He just didn’t mention that a young woman was its carrier.”
“I wasn’t the important part of the story,” Ada answered. “The book itself was.”
“That sounds like something my Harry would have said,” Eleanor remarked, nodding. Again, Ada felt the elder woman studying her. “I assume the book did not survive.”
“It did not,” Ada said.
Eleanor sighed. “There isn’t an hour that passes that I don’t find myself struggling to understand the permanence of what happened.
It still is unfathomable to me that I will never see my husband or son again.
” She blotted her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Or that the last time I saw them will forever be on the deck of that ship.”
Ada’s throat tightened. How she wanted to tell Eleanor that she too replayed her last moments with Harry a thousand times in her head. That she too could not comprehend the finality of his death. But she remained quiet.
“Some afternoons I just sit for hours in his office,” Eleanor added. “I can feel him there amidst his books. I know it must sound absurd, but sometimes I think that if I sit there long enough, he’ll actually walk through the door and sit down beside me.”
“That’s not absurd,” Ada said. “It’s grief.”
“Yes,” Rosenbach interjected. “And it only makes sense you would feel Harry’s presence strongest when you’re near his books.”
“I intend to put my energy into creating a lasting legacy for Harry,” Eleanor said as she reached for another sip of tea. “Did you know he wrote his last will and testament just three years ago?”
Rosenbach shook his head. “No, he did not share that information with me.”
“His books were that important to him. He stipulated that he wanted his collection to be donated to Harvard. But he also wrote that he wanted to ensure there was a suitable place for them.” Her voice revealed the deep sense of pride she felt that her son had entrusted her with their care.
“I suppose it is a blessing Harry made his wishes clear even at such a young age,” Rosenbach added.
Eleanor placed her teacup on the table. “I have already written to Harvard about possibly building a new library there in Harry’s name.”
“I think that’s a magnificent idea,” Rosenbach said.
“If you have any interest in completing Harry’s library entirely as he envisioned, please know that Miss Lippoldt and I are at your disposal.
She has a list from her employer in London with books Harry hoped to purchase one day, and I of course have my own.
We wanted to offer our services to you, if that’s something you’d like to pursue. ”
“It is, thank you.”
She looked out the window, her eyes settling momentarily on two small robins bobbing on the grass.
“Sometimes when I see the birds I feel he’s somehow telling me I’m on the right path.
” A peacefulness came over her. “So I’m certain this project is where I should be focusing my energy.
It will help me channel my grief.” She paused. “My final gift to my son.”