Chapter Seventy-One
ROSENBACH AND ADA DID NOT HEAR FROM ELEANOR Widener immediately following that afternoon with her.
Ada continued to work diligently, expanding her contacts within the circle of female collectors and helping keep the office up to date on its paperwork.
Several weeks went by before a letter arrived in the mail inviting them both back to Lynnewood Hall.
Dear Dr. Rosenbach,
Please accept my apologies that it has taken me a few weeks to get back to you.
I have been quite busy with my plans for creating a library at Harvard in Harry’s honor.
This enormous project has filled me with a newfound energy, but also has required my complete focus.
I’ve already begun discussing some preliminary ideas for the building with Mr. Trombauer, who, as you know, was the architect behind not only Lynnewood Hall but also my home in Newport.
Like you, he has my complete trust and it will be a wonderful project to work on with him.
I would like to see you and Miss Lippoldt soon, so we might discuss filling in some of the books that Harry wished to be in his library. Would you be able to come next Tuesday at three o’clock?
Please confirm with my secretary and I hope to see you both then.
Cordially,
Eleanor E. Widener
When Rosenbach shared the letter with Ada, her mind began racing.
Would it be possible that she and Mrs. Widener could develop a friendship as they worked together to complete Harry’s library?
Would an opportunity arise where she could finally unburden her secret—that she was carrying Harry’s child?
She realized all of these questions were wishful thinking on her part, but Ada couldn’t help but cling to such hopes when the reality of being an unwed mother was filled with so much heartache, shame, and despair.
When Tuesday arrived, she dressed modestly for her meeting with Mrs. Widener.
Ada buttoned the wrapper inside her dress—an inner bodice that concealed her slightly thickened middle—and then tied the sash around the outside material.
She gazed at herself in profile in the mirror.
No one yet, including Rosenbach and her landlady, had suspected what she was hiding.
It was the first week in July. The heat and humidity had already arrived in Philadelphia, and on their way to Lynnewood Hall, Ada hated the sensation of perspiration beading between her clothing and her skin.
When they entered Lynnewood Hall, the vaulted ceiling and marble walls offered a cooling relief.
“Mrs. Widener is expecting you in the tea room,” a butler announced, greeting them. They were ushered up the grand staircase.
As the door opened, they found Eleanor sitting in a white paneled room with gilt trim.
A Tiffany skylight composed in a palette of iridescent blues and lilacs hovered above, bathing the cream interior in a gauzy softness.
A collection of Chinese porcelains decorated the shelves.
On the silk sky-blue settee, her dark dress spread out before her, Eleanor Widener looked like a black swan in mourning.
“Thank you both for coming this afternoon,” she said. “Typically, I’d offer you some tea,” she said, “but today perhaps some cold drinks are in order.”
“Would you please prepare some cold drinks for our guests?” she asked the butler before he quietly exited the room.
“I’m sorry for having you come out here on such a hot day,” she apologized. “I’ve had to have the gardener give the flowers extra water today,” she said. “I was afraid my roses were going to wilt in the sun.”
“It is always a pleasure to see you,” Rosenbach replied. “And I’ve never been in this room before. It’s beautiful,” he said, looking up at the stained-glass skylight.
“Yes. This room always brightens my spirits and it stays surprisingly cool.”
She waved for them to both sit down, then reached for a piece of paper from the side table. Ada noticed how different, how much more vibrant and decisive Eleanor was now acting compared to just a few weeks earlier.
“I was pleased to receive the list you sent over earlier. I’ve had a chance to go over everything, and I would like to see if it’s possible to buy these.” She handed the sheet of paper to Rosenbach. “I’ve annotated the ones that I’d hoped we could purchase first.”
Rosenbach slid the folded paper into his breast pocket.
“I remain so appreciative that you were also able to take care of all of Harry’s outstanding bids that he made before he left. It brings me joy to know we got everything he wanted.”
She now turned her attention to Ada. “And Miss Lippoldt, I’ve also had a chance to go over the books that Harry mentioned to Mr. Quaritch.
There are two that I’d like to try to acquire if we can still.
The George Cruikshank Jubilee of 1809 that’s autographed and the first edition of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence. ”
“I think those are excellent choices,” Ada answered. She felt her spirit lift after Eleanor spoke directly to her. “I recall that Mr. Widener was especially excited about those two in particular.”
“I keep thinking about the bejeweled book that you mentioned the last time you were here… the one you were the chaperone for.”
“Yes, it was quite an investment piece,” Ada added. “I tried to find someone to retrieve it from the safe for me just after the boat struck the iceberg, but as you are all too aware, the crew had more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Indeed,” Eleanor said gravely. She eyed Ada again.
“My son mentioned wanting to introduce my husband and me to a friend he had on board the ship. He shared that the person was a fellow book enthusiast.”
The butler arrived with a tray containing a pitcher of chilled lemonade. She handed each of them a glass and then departed from the room. Eleanor put hers down on the table.
“I always assumed that this friend was a gentleman involved in the book world. But it’s since occurred to me that perhaps, Miss Lippoldt, it was actually you he was referring to.”
Ada stiffened.
She felt not only Eleanor’s eyes upon her, but Rosenbach’s as well. She tried to steady herself by taking a sip of her lemonade.
“It is very possible Harry had also met another person on board who was a friend and also a book collector. The passenger list on the Titanic had so many accomplished and erudite people,” she stated calmly.
“But had he invited you to ever have dinner with us? That is what I’m wondering…”
Ada felt caught between an invisible vise.
She had not expected the conversation to go in this direction.
Everything was accelerating far too quickly.
Mrs. Widener had not yet had the chance to get to know her more deeply, to grow fond of her.
Ada could feel Eleanor searching to make sense of every last moment she’d shared with Harry.
He had left out the pieces of his puzzle, and Eleanor sensed it.
“Mr. Widener always spoke of you and his father with such affection,” she finally answered. “And it is true we did share a mutual love of books.” She looked up and as hard as she tried to stifle her emotions, she began to cry.
“I am so sorry,” she said, as she searched in her bag for a handkerchief. But she had forgotten one. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“I see I’ve upset you,” Eleanor said. “I apologize. My imagination seems to have gotten the better of me.”
Rosenbach took a square cloth from his breast pocket and gave it to Ada.
“All of us here knew how much Harry loved to surround himself with fellow book lovers, and we are all just that,” he said, trying to subdue the heightened emotion now flooding through the room.
Rosenbach took the paper from Ada’s lap. “We will secure these for you at once. And as always, Miss Lippoldt and I are here to assist you with any other future book purchases for Harry’s library at Harvard. I commend you on such a marvelous undertaking. I can think of no greater memorial to him.”
The next day a letter from Eleanor arrived for Rosenbach.
Dear Dr. Rosenbach,
I must apologize about my behavior yesterday.
Grief is a peculiar monster. It can take over in the most unexpected—and unwelcome—ways.
During our meeting, I became quite distressed imagining that Miss Lippoldt might have been the friend that Harry wanted to introduce me and his father to when we were on board the Titanic.
While I have no evidence to support this suspicion, it has made me quite upset.
You see, I find myself suddenly imprisoned by thoughts of all “the nevers” that are now attached to Harry’s all-too-brief life. He will never marry. He will never have children. He will never grow old. And as a mother, the fact that he was robbed of all these joys is a terrible pill to swallow.
Through no fault of her own, your Miss Lippoldt seems to have spurred much of these ruminations.
While I doubt there was ever a romance between her and my son—after all, they come from such different places in life—her presence, as a vibrant young woman who loves books as much as my son did, is a painful reminder to me of the full life Harry never got to live.
I know it is unfair of me to ask this because she herself has done nothing whatsoever to offend me. But please do not have Miss Lippoldt come to Lynnewood Hall again. Let the two of us alone see each other to discuss the additions to his collection.
Cordially,
Eleanor Elkins Widener
He folded the letter and placed it in his desk drawer, then called out for Ada to come see him.
“I’ve just had a letter from Mrs. Widener,” he informed her. “I know you admired Harry and enjoyed a brief, but mutually respectful friendship with him.” He cleared his throat. “But, unfortunately, your presence seems to have upset Mrs. Widener.”
“Upset her?” Ada’s voice broke. “I don’t understand. What did I do, exactly?”
“It’s not what you did, Ada. It’s just that…” He pulled out the letter and read from a portion of Eleanor’s exact words. “She says your presence ‘is a painful reminder to me of the full life Harry never got to live.’”
Ada whitened. “So she never wishes to see me again?”
Rosenbach put the letter back in his drawer. “I’m sure it’s nothing personal, Ada.”
She blinked back tears. “How can you say that to me? Of course it is.”