12 The Family Way (31 page)

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I got myself locked away in that confounded convent. I tried to send you a message, but the girl who was supposed to deliver it killed herself.”

“But you were going down to Irvington.” Sid was still glaring at me. “You were going to visit the Mainwaring household, so you told us. We telephoned Mrs. Mainwaring and she said she had been out all day and had not seen you.”

“I did go there,” I said, “and I learned the whole story of Maureen and her baby and the baby’s father.” I glanced down at Bridie who was clinging onto my skirt like a rock. “Bridie, love, why don’t you run upstairs and find me a handkerchief in my bag?” I said.

As she went Gus asked, “And? Who was he? Did she run off to be with him?”

“Quite the opposite,” I said. “Her employer, Mr. Mainwaring, had his way with her, as they say. He had a lecherous eye and apparently couldn’t keep his hands off the servants. They wanted that poor girl to give them her child as they had no child of their own. They’d adopt it and she would be hired back as its nurse. Imagine her dilemma—wanting to be close to her baby, but not wanting that monster to get his hands on her again.”

“There is no justice in this world for women,” Sid said angrily. “Why should a woman be shunned by society and condemned for her act if she gives birth to an illegitimate child, even if she was forced, against her will? And the man walks away, whistling merrily.”

“When we have the vote you must run for Congress, Sid,” Gus said. “You’ll be able to change things.”

“Maybe,” Sid said, “but go on with your story, Molly. You went back to the convent and they dragged you inside and imprisoned you?”

“No, I confess that I behaved as usual without thinking clearly. Too impetuous by half, my mother always said. Too hotheaded.” I grinned. “I pretended to be a wayward girl and got myself admitted. I sensed that Maureen had never left the place and I was right. One of the nuns had killed her and hidden her body in another nun’s coffin.”

“God Almighty,” Sid said.

“Killed her, what on earth for?” Gus asked.

“I don’t know exactly what happened but she changed her mind at the last minute and wanted to keep her child. Sister Jerome was privately making good money from placing babies with suitable families—essentially selling babies to childless couples. I think Maureen threatened to spill the beans if she wasn’t allowed to leave and Sister Jerome couldn’t have that happen.” I stopped, staring out at the peaceful scene in front of us—the broad river, flowing lazily past and in the distance a sailing ship. Already the convent seemed like a bad dream.

“So let me get this straight,” Sid said. “You admitted yourself to that convent, knowing that at least one girl had already been killed? Are you out of your mind, woman? What in heaven’s name possessed you?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d be in any danger. I thought I could snoop around and then say that I’d changed my mind and wanted to leave again. What I didn’t count on was that Sister Jerome had had a particular request for a red-haired baby. There was no way she was going to let me leave.”

“At least she wouldn’t have killed you, then,” Gus said.

I was about to answer when that whole scene on the chapel steps replayed itself in my head. In all the excitement that had followed I had struck that memory from my mind. Now it came back to me with full force and I realized: I had literally been one inch away from falling to my death. I kept silent.

“So how did you manage to escape?” Gus went on.

“The truth came out. We found Maureen’s body.”

“So you solved the whole thing by yourself?”

“I suppose so,” I agreed.

“Molly being brilliant as usual,” Gus said proudly. “And what happened to your evil nun? Has she been dragged away in chains?”

“She had an accident. When I left she was dying,” I said.

Sid was looking at me critically. “I can see there is more to this than Molly is willing to tell,” she said. “But the only thing I can say to you, Molly Murphy Sullivan, is this: don’t you ever do something as stupid as this again, do you hear me? Because if you try then Gus and I will personally lock you up in our attic until you see sense.”

I started to laugh. She laughed too and gave me a big bear-hug embrace.

“Here’s your handkerchief.” Bridie came in just as I was wiping away tears. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you sad?”

“Never happier,” I said. “I’m safely back among friends. What could be better.”

“And tomorrow we’re taking you back to your mother-in-law where nothing can happen to you other than a surfeit of jam making,” Gus said.

“Oh, no.” I shook my head firmly. “I have to get back to the city and tell Daniel…”

“You’re going to confess all this nonsense to Daniel? Are you quite mad, woman?” Sid demanded.

“I’m not going to tell him the actual details, but I think I’ve found out something that will help him with his investigation. Before Sister Jerome died she said that she had been sending money to aid the Republican cause in Ireland. Now it seems to me that the only person with whom she would have contact outside the convent would be her sister, who is also a nun but works in the Lower East Side. In fact I think I passed her sister in a carriage on the road when I was staying with Mrs. Sullivan.”

“So you think her sister would be handing the money to the Republican Brotherhood?”

“That’s what I wondered. At least she’d be a middleman along the chain and through her we might be able to find out where they meet and what exactly they are planning.”

Sid looked at Gus and shook her head. “She never gives up, does she? Now you want to go from one dangerous situation to the next. What are we going to do with you?”

“Oh, I’m not intending to do this myself,” I said. “But as Sister Jerome lay dying she did ask that somebody send a message of her death to her sister. So I thought that I could legitimately do that, find out where her convent is, and then pass along the information to my husband. There is no harm in that, is there?”

“With you there is always the potential for harm,” Sid said. “But to be on the safe side we’re coming with you. From now on we’re not letting you loose in the Lower East Side alone.”

“We are not letting her go anywhere alone,” Gus added firmly.

Thirty-one

We spent the rest of the afternoon beside the river, sitting in the shade, watching Bridie splash about at the edge of the water—in short exactly what I should have been doing all the time I was here. I couldn’t help thinking how pleasant it was and wondering why I felt so driven to put myself in difficult situations and get involved in other peoples’ problems. And for what? I asked myself. What exactly had I achieved? I had found out what happened to Maureen O’Byrne and I could now write to her family, but I would be bringing them only heartache. I had stopped Sister Jerome’s money-making scheme, but I would now be depriving the Republican Brotherhood of funds when I was really all for their cause. At least I had stopped girls who came to the convent in the future from being abused by Sister. I hoped I had prevented any future tragedies like Blanche’s suicide. So a little good was done then. Something achieved.

I turned my attention back to Bridie who was now standing on a rock, waving her arms. “Look at me, Molly,” she called.

“Mrs. Sullivan would have a fit if she saw you showing your arms and legs like that,” I called back. “And getting freckles to boot.”

“Then we won’t tell her, will we?” Bridie said with a cheeky smile on her face, and I read into her expression that she was hinting, “I won’t tell about you if you don’t tell about me.” The child was growing up fast!

We had a lovely dinner of locally caught fish out on the porch, under the stars and stayed up late watching lights dance on the water as a pleasure craft made its way upriver. Then the next morning Sid and Gus came with me to take Bridie back to my mother-in-law and pick up the rest of my things. Bridie was bursting with enthusiasm and couldn’t stop talking about the splendid time she had had with the ladies. I noticed she carefully avoided mentioning those things that might have distressed my mother-in-law.

“My goodness, child, you’re going off like a steam train.” Mrs. Sullivan put a hand on Bridie’s shoulder. “It’s not polite to hog the conversation when there are adults present. I think we need to get you back to some good honest hard work as soon as possible. I’ve the silver waiting to be polished in the dining room. On with your pinny and get to it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan,” Bridie said meekly and went off.

My mother-in-law turned back to us. “I can’t let her get too uppity, can I?” she said. “But I’m so glad she was able to let her hair down and be a child for a while. She’s been worrying so much about her father and brother.” She moved closer. “And between you and me, I’ve just heard a report from Panama that the conditions on that canal they are building are deplorable. Men are dropping like flies.”

“Let’s pray for the best, shall we,” I said.

She looked at me critically. “I can’t say the stay by the river has done you good, my dear. You look positively tired and pale. Never mind, a few days of rest and feeding you up will do the trick, I daresay.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Actually I’m going straight back to New York with Miss Walcott and Miss Goldfarb,” I said. “I’m feeling guilty about leaving Daniel alone when he’s been working so hard. A man should have a good meal waiting for him when he comes home from work, don’t you think?”

She had to agree to that one. “I always made sure there was a meal in the oven waiting for my man,” she agreed. “But don’t you think he’d rather that you stayed up here and I took care of you?”

“I’m not an invalid, Mother Sullivan,” I said. “He worried about me in the heat wave but it’s cooled down remarkably, wouldn’t you say? Besides,” I added before she could answer, “I’ll maybe only stay down there for a few days, make sure he’s well-stocked up with food and come back here again—if you’ll still put up with me, that is.”

She looked flattered, as I hoped she would. “You know you’re always welcome here, my dear.” She patted my hand. “And I find it heartwarming that you’re so concerned about dear Daniel. He’s married a good woman, that’s for sure.”

Of course I felt guilty after that, because Daniel wasn’t my prime reason for wanting to return to New York. But at least I had managed to escape without any hurt feelings, and that was the main thing, wasn’t it? Bridie helped me pack my bags, no longer bright and chatty but silent and morose.

“Why do you have to go?” she asked at last. “Why can’t I come with you?”

I stroked her hair. “I’ll be back soon, I promise and it’s better for you to be out of the city in the good fresh air.” She shrugged. “And Mrs. Sullivan is very kind to you. If you mind her well, you’ll grow up to be a fine young lady.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t want to grow up to be a young lady,” she said, wiping it away with the back of her hand. “Then my da and my brother won’t know me when they come back.”

I wrapped her in my arms. “Oh, sweetheart, they’ll be proud to know you. They just want what is best for you.” (This wasn’t exactly true, as her father had asked me to find her a servant’s position at the age of ten, but it was good that she thought it true.)

“I wish I were your daughter,” she said, her voice barely bigger than a whisper. There—she had voiced the thought that had gone through my own mind more than once.

“I love you like a daughter,” I said, “but I have a new husband and soon I’ll have a new baby of my own. Maybe when the baby comes and things are more settled then you might be able to come and live with us for a while, but for now you really are better off with Mrs. Sullivan. Remember how hot and crowded it is in the city?”

Bridie didn’t say another word, but insisted on carrying down my bag for me and giving it to Jonah to load into the trap. Then she stood solemnly waving as we set off for the station.

*   *   *

New York felt hot, sticky, and smelly after the country idyll and I almost regretted my decision to return home. However when I turned the key in my front door and entered my little house I changed my mind. The house had an unused feel to it and smelled of decaying fruit and stale coffee. So then I felt sorry that Daniel had had to fend for himself and looked forward to surprising him with a good meal. But first I had a task to perform. Sid and Gus insisted on accompanying me and even insisted on taking a hansom cab to the Lower East Side.

“At least it shouldn’t be too hard to track down a nun in this part of the city,” I said to them as we climbed down from the cab on the corner of Broome and Elizabeth Streets. “Last time I was here the place was crawling with nuns and priests.”

“You’ll probably find it some kind of feast day and they are all on their knees in their convents,” Sid said dryly as she scanned a street remarkably devoid of nuns. I looked around and my gaze fastened on the butcher shop on Elizabeth where I had come down the stairs just too late to witness a kidnapping.

“I wonder if that woman ever had the right baby returned to her?” I said.

Gus shook her head. “If she did, there has been nothing about it in the
Times.
”

“How terrible for her.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the door of that butcher’s shop. “I wonder what she’ll do? Would she keep a baby that she knows isn’t hers and spend her life wondering who is raising her baby?”

“It may not be as nice as that, Molly,” Gus said quietly. “Did it not occur to you that perhaps they killed her child by mistake and found a baby to take its place?”

“Yes, Daniel suggested that might have happened.” I turned away. “It just doesn’t bear thinking about it, does it? I don’t know what I’d do if…”

“Then don’t think about it,” Sid said firmly. “Frankly I don’t know that it was a good idea letting you come to this part of the city, even if it is just to deliver a message. It’s too distressing for you. Maybe we should take you straight home.”

“No. I have to do this.” I shook my head firmly. “There may be a lot at stake here. Let’s find the convent and get it over with. I’m sure almost any of the women around here can tell us where the Foundling Hospital is located.”