"You seem surprised."

I played with the remains of my fish, my appet.i.te gone. "Well, yes. After all, he's not like us. He's a Jew."

"He's no longer practicing, he says. I'm merely showing him my appreciation, nothing more. There are already plenty of doctors at the club. He'll fit in nicely. And perhaps he can use it to expand his practice."

"How thoughtful you are to suggest it," I said.

William's dark brows came together in a frown. "Are you telling me I shouldn't be grateful to him for restoring my wife to me?"

I could not answer. Restore seemed such a finished word, and despite my improvement these last days, I did not feel finished, hardly so. It did disturb me that William intended to form a friendship with my doctor, though I could not think of a reason why. After all, I had first met Seth at a supper, and it was clear he already moved in our circle of friends. It would be foolish not to expect to see him publicly.

"I've been hoping you might come with me to McKim's office tomorrow morning," William said. "He's finished the plans for the new house."

Our discussion about Seth was over. I forced myself to take a forkful of fish and put aside my dismay over the doctor. "Oh? So soon?"

"I'd like you to see them."

"I'm sure anything you've agreed to is fine."

"You're going to live there as well," William pointed out. "And I'd like you to see the plans before you go to Goupil's. You should know what we need before you begin choosing things."

I gave him a weak smile. "Yes, of course."

"Then it's settled. We're to be there tomorrow at ten."

I did not argue. I feigned the excitement I wanted so badly to feel. I would do this for William, for myself. After all, I did feel better.

The next morning I met my husband in the foyer, dressed and ready. It did not take long to arrive at McKim's office, despite a cloud of snow that fell in a light and constant fog. We were met in the anteroom by an earnest young man who showed us into Charles McKim's office.

Charles was there already, seated at a huge maple desk, surrounded by rolls of paper. One wall was completely lined with bookshelves; the others held framed photographs of houses he'd apparently designed, though the electric lamp on his desk shone upon the gla.s.s at an angle, making the pictures hard to see.

He rose when we entered, extending a hand to William, giving me a warm smile. William and I sat in two silk-covered chairs.

"I've brought Lucy to give her final approval," William told him with a conspiratorial smile.

"I'm certain you'll be pleased, Mrs. Carelton," Charles said. He reached for a seemingly unmarked roll among a set of other rolls and spread it out over his desk, using paperweights to hold the corners. William rose and went to look over his shoulder, gesturing for me to join him. I did, but the drawing was impossible for me to decipher. It was only rows of lines, parallel and perpendicular, a semicircle here, words written in tiny letters.

"Look here," William said, pointing to a square on the paper. "This is the foyer. We'll have steps leading up to the front, all of cut limestone." His finger traced down a set of lines. "Do you see? They curve on either side down to the sidewalk. There are pillars here and here, and the porch roof is a terrace that leads out from the ballroom." His fingers moved over the plans so rapidly I could barely follow his motions; his voice was excited. "Do you see, Lucy? The entrance hall will be huge, with marble pillars reaching up three stories to a stained-gla.s.s dome. Mostly in rose, I think, so there will be a perpetual sunset over the floors below. Or sunrise, I suppose, depending on the light."

I began to see the plans as a house. It was simple to decipher now that I knew what I was examining.

"Yes," I said. "It's quite lovely."

"Do you think so?" William's face was more animated than I'd seen it for some time, and for a moment I felt a terrible jealousy that this house should command his affections when I could not.

"From the outside, it looks like a very large row house," I said.

Charles McKim nodded. "Yes. William planned it that way. He thought you would be more comfortable in familiar surroundings. But the inside is quite spectacular. Nothing like a row house at all."

"It will be beautiful," I said, stepping back from the plans.

William grasped my arm, bringing me gently back. "You must see this, Lucy," he said softly. "I've planned it all for you. Look, here is your suite. You'll have a sitting room that can be closed off from the bedroom by a set of doors. Do you see? There will be a window here-"

"A window?" I frowned. "Only one? It's quite small."

"Yes. Heating is more efficient that way," McKim said.

"We don't care about the cost of heating," I told him. "The window must be bigger. Where are the rest of them?"

I saw the way McKim glanced at William, but I did not retreat. I said insistently, "Show me where the windows are."

"In every room, of course," McKim said. "Here and here."

"There aren't enough. Really, William, there aren't enough. You know how I love windows."

"But Lucy-"

"There must be more," I said.

"But darling-"

"You said you wanted me to look at the plans," I said. I had wanted so badly to care about this house, and now I found myself caring too much. "You wanted my approval. It's a lovely house, William, truly it is, but the windows, there simply must be more."

"I can change the plans slightly without compromising the entire design," McKim said reluctantly.

"Then you must."

William looked at McKim. "Could you give us a moment, Charles?"

"Certainly." McKim stepped from his office, closing the door discreetly. When he was gone, William turned me to face him, holding my arms so I couldn't back away.

"Lucy, you must calm yourself."

"I'm quite calm."

He shook his head. "This thing about the windows-"

"You said I should have the house the way I liked it," I said. "You said I should approve of it."

"Yes, but not at the expense of everything Charles and I have worked for," he said. "I've done nothing but keep your interests in mind during this entire process. Charles and I have had several meetings."

"You never included me."

He gave me a chastising look. "Come, Lucy, you weren't the least bit interested until today."

"But now I am interested. And I want windows."

"Think of how cold such large rooms will be. The windows will only make it worse unless the drapes are quite heavy, and you don't like curtains."

"No," I said uncertainly. "I don't."

"You see?" He smiled a how silly you're being smile. "Really, darling, you can't want this at all. You only think you do. The windows we have are quite sufficient. If you like, I can ask Charles to make the one in your room larger."

His reasonableness was stifling; I felt myself surrendering, not caring any longer. "Yes," I said, breaking from his hold, turning away. "That would be nice."

"I knew you would understand," he said with satisfaction. He went to the door and sent the boy for Charles, who came back with a bounce in his step but a questioning expression.

"We'd like the window enlarged in Lucy's room, if you can, Charles," William said.

"And the rest?" Charles asked.

"The rest are perfect as they are."

"Excellent." Charles smiled, and the two of them leaned over the plans again, making little refinements here and there, while I tried to smile and listen to words that ran together in one long stream of nonsense.

"Excuse me," I said, making for the door. "If I could just go out for a moment."

William barely glanced up. "Of course, darling. I'll meet you outside. Charles and I are almost finished."

I slipped out and leaned against the wall. It seemed the plans of that house surrounded me, the lines and planes evolving into a skeleton of stone and wood, primitive and bleak, and in it I felt William's inflexibility of will. I was suddenly, unreasonably afraid that I could not live within those walls, that I should die if I had to beat my wings against them.

My next appointment with Dr. Seth was not for another two days, and the peace I'd found in his office began to erode, my pleasantness becoming edgy and brittle. The visit to McKim's had shaken me, as had William's adoption of Dr. Seth as a friend. I had not been able to regain my spirits.

That night was the opera. Merely the thought of the terrible, cacophonous music, the gloominess, the close air, the jewels and the perfume and the inquisitiveness-How have you been, Lucy? You look tired, Lucy. Are you going to so-and-so's supper, Lucy?-made me irritable. Worst of all would be William's cloying concern, his disappointment. You were doing so well, Lucy. What happened?

But I readied myself obediently. That evening, as I neared the bottom of the stairs, I heard my father's voice coming from the study. Then he came into the hall, followed by William.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," Papa said when he saw me. He was dressed for the opera, which I couldn't countenance. "Well, now, Lucy, you do look in fine fettle tonight."

"Thank you, Papa," I managed. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were planning to accompany us. But I know how you dislike the Metropolitan."

"As it happens, I am going," he said. "Much as I dislike it, I've promised to attend Dunsmuir's supper tonight after."

"I see," I said, though that hardly explained it. It would be easy enough for him to go to the supper with or without the opera.

William said, "I've managed to convince your father that he might enjoy the German style after all." Then he frowned. "Where are the emeralds, Lucy? The emeralds are for green."

I had chosen simple diamonds. "I didn't feel-"

"Moira!" He stepped to the bottom of the stairs. "Moira, bring Mrs. Carelton's jewel case here immediately, please."

"William, really," I said, putting my hand on his arm. "I thought the emeralds were too much for tonight."

"Don't be absurd. They'll wonder where the emeralds are."

I said nothing more. Moira brought the jewel case, and it was opened, and the diamonds were exchanged for a necklace of huge square-cut emeralds, the earbobs for elaborate emerald earrings that dangled to my jaw.

We arrived at our box just before the second intermission, fashionably late, to the murmur of voices and the turning of heads, the lifting of opera gla.s.ses. My emeralds reflected the stage lights, as they were intended to do. I removed my cloak and took my time sitting, as I knew William liked, giving them all a chance to see me, letting the glare of my jewels lure their gazes. I felt William's smile in the darkness. He put his hand possessively over my arm. Papa sat grumpily behind us.

I watched the last minutes of the performance before the break. I could not have said what the opera was tonight; my program lay unopened in my lap. I felt as if I were moving in a dream. Then the music stopped, and the lights rose, and I was revealed. William's hand tightened on my arm, and then he got to his feet and said, "I'll get us some refreshment," and left me there with my father.

He was gone only a moment before my father leaned forward and whispered, "Good G.o.d, Lucy, you're like a statue tonight."

"I haven't slept well," I answered.

"Of course not. No one has. It's the middle of the season." He harrumphed in my ear, a breath of sound that stirred my earrings. "That's no excuse. You're a Van Berckel. Be a credit to your family. And your husband. William said you've been better. I came tonight to see it for myself. I'm beginning to think William is being overly hopeful."

I took a deep breath. Just then there was a movement at the curtains, and I turned to see Clara Morris pushing through, her husband, Bartlett, in tow. Clara was a society matron of long standing, her pedigree nearly as exceptional as mine. She had enhanced it by marrying into a Knickerbocker family when she was barely eighteen. Tonight she wore a gown so bundled in lace that she looked more like an ancient schoolmarm than a youthful woman, an image she was obviously trying to recapture. That was accentuated by her keen gaze, which swept me from head to foot.

My father was on his feet in moments. "Clara. Bartlett. So good to see you."

"And how surprising to see you," Clara said archly. She rapped Papa with her fan, a flirtation that only looked silly. I saw Bartlett wince. "What brings you here after all this time, DeLancey? I know I heard you swear you wouldn't set a foot in the opera house until they changed the program."

"I was persuaded otherwise," Papa said.

"How delightful." Clara's eagle eye swept past my father to me. "And how lovely to see you, Lucy. Mamie Fish and I stopped by on your calling day last week, to find you out."

At Dr. Seth's. I tried to smile. "I was called away unexpectedly."

"Well, I'm happy it was nothing more. We had thought- It's of no matter, of course, but there has been some talk that you haven't been home on your calling day for weeks. Have you been ill? Oh, I do hope it's not a reprise of last spring."

I heard the words she didn't say: When you offended Caroline Astor and took to your bed for two months.

Papa gave me a sharp glance, and I saw Clara catch it.

"No, of course not. Everything's quite lovely," I said, though I couldn't rid myself of the notion that she saw straight through me to the lie.

She gave me a little smile and looked smugly satisfied. "How good to hear that."

"Here we are." William came through the curtains holding two drinks. "Well, h.e.l.lo, Clara, Bartlett. Lucy, darling, you'll never guess who I found."

I reached for the gla.s.s. It was warm. The sweet, sticky scent of it was overwhelming. "No, I'm certain I won't," I said faintly. "Who did you find?"

Before he could answer, a man came through the curtains behind him. It was Victor Seth.

He was dressed as I had never seen him, in deep chocolate brown. His matching vest hung with two thick watch chains, each dangling a charm I couldn't identify from where I stood. He looked like any of William's friends might, and his smile showed he was completely at ease in this society. His thick hair was swept back, his gla.s.ses were gone, and without them his eyes seemed even more piercing.

I stared at him, unable to speak, though I did gasp-I know I did that, because Clara looked at me with sudden avid curiosity.

"Have you met Victor Seth?" William asked the Morrises.

Clara Morris extended her hand. "No, I fear I haven't. Though I've heard so much about you, Dr. Seth. We both have, haven't we, Bartlett?"

Bartlett grunted.

William introduced them smoothly. Seth took Clara's hand with a smile and said, "Mrs. Morris, it's a pleasure to meet you and your husband."

"You're new in town, eh?" Bartlett said, the first words he'd uttered since entering our box. "You're a doctor?"