Yesterday was a real turning point for the neglected and ignored children of Five Points. It took a titled immigrant to force us native New Yorkers to look and see what was going on in our own city and to remind us that here in this land, all men, women, and children should be considered equal. We thank the day this charming, self-effacing, and determined young woman chose to make her home in our great Metropolis. There is no need for us to wish her Sanctuary every success, for it was assured the moment the doors were opened. We can only hope it acts as an example, that more places where kindness and hope are distributed without judgment may now spring up for those in need of it most.

Bravo, Lady Margaret!

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two

New York, Wednesday, Christmas Day, 1872

MARGARET GAZED DOWN IN AWE at the tiny bundle sleeping in her arms. Little Margherita Mueller, known affectionately as Petite Rita, was only three weeks old, and already she had her parents and her honorary aunt wrapped around her tiny dimpled fingers. She smelled of milk, and when Margaret buried her nose in the silky-soft mass of her hair, that particular baby scent that made her so fiercely protective and at the same time filled with a wondrous love. Though she was accustomed to children, she knew little about infants and had, the first time she had held Rita, been terrified of breaking her.

“She’s so perfect,” she said now to Randolph, who was leaning over her shoulder with the stunned expression he had worn ever since his daughter was born.

“You won’t get any argument from me on that front. I still can’t believe she’s here.”

“Happy first Christmas,” Margaret said, kissing the baby’s impossibly soft cheek before handing her back reluctantly to Geraldine. “And thank you for inviting me to share it with you. I know that both sets of grandparents were vying for the honour of having you to stay.”

Geraldine snuggled her daughter close, kissing the top of her head. “The very idea of having to get dressed up and endure one of my parents’ gargantuan formal dinners is exhausting.”

“And though my parents promised they’d only invite a few of the neighbours and just our closest family to dinner—well,” Randolph said ruefully, “you can imagine.”

“Then I’m even more honoured to have been your guest, but it’s getting late, so I’ll let you put little Rita to bed,” Margaret said, getting to her feet.

“It’s only just after seven, but I must confess I’m exhausted,” Geraldine said. “Thank you for coming, and for Rita’s beautiful christening gown. We’ll see you at the ceremony next Sunday. Randolph will walk you home.”

“Good idea,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I could use the fresh air; otherwise I’ll fall asleep in front of the fire.”