Chapter Seventy-Five
LETTERS CONTINUED TO ARRIVE FROM LYNNEWOOD HALL.
As the architect strove to perfect the plans and the materials of marble, brick, and limestone were being sourced throughout Europe and the United States, Ada learned from Rosenbach about Mrs. Widener’s plans to re-create Harry’s study as the central Memorial Room in the building.
“Such a poignant tribute,” Rosenbach informed her when he read of Eleanor’s plans.
“Yes,” she agreed as she brought him some folders he had requested.
“Her resilience is impressive,” he said as he took the files from Ada’s hand. “As is her conviction to see Harry’s library built.”
“Indeed,” Ada said softly. “She is a formidable woman.”
Rosenbach looked up and surveyed Ada’s expression. “Please don’t hold a grudge against her. Her grief is immense, and she needs to shield herself from as many upsetting thoughts as possible.”
A small kick fluttered through Ada’s abdomen. She’d recently noticed these tiny, almost imperceptible movements over the past few days.
“Of course.” She forced a smile. “It is all quite understandable.”
Ada excused herself and returned to her desk at the back of the building. She sat down and placed her palms on her stomach, sensing the life growing inside her.
She closed her eyes and imagined the baby with Harry’s coloring. His dark hair and warm brown eyes.
She could not fathom giving this child up. She loved it already.
A strange calm came over her. Didn’t she owe it to Harry’s child to at least let its grandmother know it existed?
The rational part of Ada knew she could never raise the child on her own.
She did not have nearly enough money to find a place that would rent to a single woman and her baby, even if Ada lied and claimed she was a widow.
And Rosenbach would never employ her if he were to learn she was pregnant, as it would be too much of a blemish on his business.
The lack of money, the social stigma, she knew would make it impossible for her to give this baby all that it deserved.
But if Eleanor Widener were to embrace the situation, perhaps it would make motherhood viable for her.
She could not make an appointment. Mrs. Widener had already said she did not want to see Ada again. But she decided that she too could put her energy toward something important for her child. She owed it to herself and her unborn baby to at least try.
That evening Ada sat down and wrote a letter.
Dear Mrs. Widener,
Please forgive me for my forwardness in writing to you. I realize that you do not want to see or hear from me again after my last visit to Lynnewood Hall. Dr. Rosenbach informed me that my presence caused you considerable distress, and for that I apologize. That was never my intention.
I would have preferred to tell you all this in person, but as that is not possible, I am forcing myself to communicate to you something that I feel you have a right to know.
Your son and I loved each other and discussed a future together.
Harry meant to inform you of this whilst we were all together at sea, and hoped that you would come to accept our love despite my background.
Shortly after the sinking of the Titanic, I discovered that I am carrying Harry’s child.
The world is very cruel and judgmental of women who fall into such a situation, but I look to you in the hope that you might show to his unborn baby the same courage you are directing toward the library you are building in his honor.
I do hope you will consider meeting me one more time, at least. Surely, there must be a way that we can ensure this baby grows up secure and knowing how much it is loved.
Respectfully yours,
Ada Lippoldt
She sealed the letter and wrote her return address, then affixed the stamp. When Ada posted it on her way to Rosenbach’s that morning, she prayed Mrs. Widener would not judge her too harshly. She hoped Eleanor would soften to the news Ada had reluctantly been forced to share.