“No, she don’t have time for none of that. Told me she don’t never want to be controlled by some gent. But she does have her gentlemen friends, like.”
“I saw a woman climbing into a buggy a few minutes ago. I suppose it was her and one of her gentlemen?”
“Yes. I don’t like that one. Mr. Barclay’s his name.” She chewed on the inside of her lip. “He’s married, he is, and he’s got no business stepping out with Miss Bowerman.”
Nor she with him, but I didn’t say it to her employee.
Forty-one
I trudged down the hill thinking about Irvin and Nalia. Before talking with the house girl, I had wondered why he hadn’t married Nalia instead of Sissy. He already had a pretty young wife, so why was he also stepping out with an attractive redhead? Now it was clear that Nalia wasn’t having anything to do with marriage, and Sissy was more than happy to bear him children. All kinds of nagging questions still plagued me, though.
They flew out of my head as I stared at the fence where I’d left my bike not half an hour ago. What? My trusty metal steed was not there. I gazed up and down the length of the fence. No bicycle. I was positive I had left it right here. I slapped my leg in frustration. Someone had taken it. I’d seen people lock their bikes in public with a small padlock and a length of chain, but I’d never thought I needed to acquire a measure of security. I wished I had. My bicycle had cost me good money a year ago, and now I was without my favorite transportation.
A moment of quiet dread stole over me. What if Mayme’s killer had been following me and took the bike to make it harder for me to get around town and investigate the murder? I glanced quickly around. I stood on a busy street corner in full daylight, but the thought of being followed chilled me and made me shiver.
A fellow emerged from the lower of the two big Osgood buildings carrying his lunch pail. I wanted to ask if he’d seen anyone make off with a bike, but how could he have if he was working inside? And I didn’t see anyone toiling outside on this side of the buildings to ask. I looked behind me at the large house on the corner of Powow and Chester. It had bow windows upstairs and down with a good view of this spot of fence. Perhaps someone inside saw who had made off with my transport.
I checked both ways on Powow. I waited for a wagon laden with hay to rumble by, then hurried across the street. A distracted-looking woman with a nimbus of white hair and the scent of turpentine about her opened the door a few moments after I knocked. She wore a large paint-spattered man’s shirt over her dress and had a smudge of blue paint on her forehead, too. She wiped her hands on the shirt.
“Yes?”
“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Rose Carroll. I am a neighbor of sorts, and a little while ago I left my bicycle against the fence right there.” I pointed. “It has disappeared, and I wondered if thee might have seen who took it.”
She gave a hearty laugh. “I didn’t see a thing, Miss Carroll. I was upstairs painting. When I’m deep in my art, I don’t even hear fire bells.”
My smile slid away. “I see. Well, I thank thee.”
“You’re a Quaker, aren’t you? I can tell by your manner of speaking. I’m Margery Jennings, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. You Quakers do good work, I’ve heard.” She glanced at her extended hand. “Oh, you don’t want to shake that. Paint might not be dry.” She withdrew it.
“Yes, I’m a member of the Religious Society of Friends, and I’m also pleased to meet thee, Margery. I’ll be going then.”
“Wait a minute.” She tapped her temple, leaving a smear of white next to the blue. “My husband might have spied your thief. He’s out tinkering in the barn.” She stepped onto the stoop and called toward the open door of a large barn at the back. A bench sat in the sun in front of the building. “Teddy?”
A tall man, equally white-haired, ambled out, wiping greased-stained hands on a rag. “Yes, my dear?”
“Teddy, Miss Carroll says someone stole her bicycle from in front of the fence over there in the last little while.” She pointed to the spot. “Did you happen to see the culprit?”
His gaze traveled to the fence. “Why, yes. Indeed I did. I was taking a break from my invention and was sitting on the bench out here watching the world go by. I thought it passing strange at the time. A gent drove up with another man in tow. The second jumped down and rode off on the bicycle.”
My hand went to my mouth. It appeared I’d been right about being followed. Unless there was a gang of bicycle thieves operating in Amesbury, driving around looking for unsuspecting souls who left bicycles unlocked and unattended, which I supposed was possible.
“Why was it strange, darling?” Margery asked her husband.
“For one thing it was a ladies’ cycle. And for the other? The man wobbled and nearly crashed like he’d never ridden a two-wheeler. It was downright comical.” He talked through a smile.
“Would the carriage have been a Stanhope runabout?” I asked. “And the horse a gray mare with black mane?”
Teddy tilted his head. “How’d you know about that carriage and horse, Miss Carroll?”
“It’s a long story. I also expect the driver was a man in a suit and the thief a workman in a cap.”
“Precisely.” Teddy nodded. “A workman with grass stains on his trousers.”
“So you’ve had a run-in with these bandits before.” Margery gazed at me with curiosity.
“I have.” I smiled without much cheer behind it. “I think I’d better go inform the police of the theft. Thank thee, Teddy, for sharing thy observation, and thee, Margery, for thy help.”
He glanced with raised eyebrows at his wife.
She smiled at him. “She’s a Quaker.”
“Ah, the faith of our esteemed poet.”
“Yes, indeed.” I thanked them again and trudged toward home. I mused that Merton and Adoniram could be bicycle thieves without being murderers, but why?
Forty-two
The Bailey household was in chaos when I walked in. Mark was elbow-deep in flour and yellow cornmeal, which was also scattered on the floor and in his hair. Matthew and Betsy were playing Parcheesi at the table and arguing about who was winning. Betsy’s hair had become unbraided and was a curly snarled mess. Luke was bouncing a ball, which apparently had already knocked a ceramic jar onto the floor, judging from the shards remaining. Their father was nowhere to be seen, and the room was overheated.
“Auntie Rose, Mattie’s cheating,” Betsy protested.
“Am not,” Matthew countered.
“Thee is, too.”
“Auntie Rose, I’m making cornmeal muffins,” Mark announced with pride. “How hot does the oven need to be?”
“A medium heat, although it feels warmer than that in here right now. Luke, thee knows the rule is no balls in the house.” I gave him a firm look. “And where is thy father?”
He returned my look with a hooded-eye glance of his own, but at least he stopped his bouncing. He was fourteen now and growing increasingly sullen, so I was lucky he’d complied.
“Papa’s out with Winnie,” Betsy offered.
“I’m in charge,” Luke said.
“Is he coming back for supper?”
“We don’t know,” Mark said, but kept his back to me, and his voice had turned less confident.
I sighed. “Luke, please clean up the broken jar before someone cuts himself.”
“Or herself.” Betsy folded her arms. “Aren’t boys and girls equal in God’s eyes?”
I had to smile at the little Quaker. “Or herself.” I slumped into a chair, exhausted from everything that had happened today.
“Oh, and a lady called for thee,” Matthew said. “She said her mistress is having her twins. She sounded rather worried.”
I sat up straight. “Sissy Barclay is in labor?”
“Yes, the lady said Mrs. Barclay.”
I had to go to her immediately. I didn’t want to leave these young people alone to get up to more mischief, though, not to mention Mark handlin
g a hot oven. Who could I call? They all adored David, but he’d said he had a meeting most of the day today. Bertie? No. She knew the children but she wasn’t adept at managing little ones. Faith. I’d call Faith and pray she wasn’t occupied elsewhere. And I had to summon Annie to assist me. And tell Kevin about my bicycle being absconded with.
I stood. “Listen, darlings. I must go to this birth. I’m going to see if Faith and Zeb can come and watch over you until Frederick returns.” I watched Luke, hoping he wouldn’t protest.
“Goody!” Betsy clapped her hands.
“Zeb has been helping me with a carpentry project,” Luke said. “I will be glad to see him.”
Whew. “I have to make several telephone calls. Please behave yourselves.” I glanced at each in turn over the top of my spectacles. “I know thee can.”
I headed into the sitting room. First I called Faith, and instantly calmed down when she said she and Zeb would be right over. She would tidy up Betsy’s hair and manage her younger siblings far better than Luke was able to, plus he would have Zeb to connect with. Next I got through to Annie’s landlord and left an urgent message with him for my apprentice to join me at the Barclay residence without delay.
Now for the police. “I’d prefer to speak to Kevin Donovan,” I said after the man answering the call said he would take down the particulars. “I believe the theft is connected to the recent homicide.”
He whistled into the device, and the piercing sound went straight into my ear. I winced.
“Problem is, miss, he’s gone home for the day. Said his baby daughter is poorly.”
“Thank thee. I’ll reach him at home.” I hung up. Poor Kevin and Emmaline, to have their baby sick again. I couldn’t go to them, though. I had to get to Sissy. These calls had already taken too much time, and who knows how long ago Aoife had called about the labor starting. Still, I put through a call to Kevin’s home.
After Sean answered, I greeted him and said, “Sean, may I speak to thy father, please?”
“He’s helping Mummy with the baby. Miss Rose, she’s awful hot again.”
“I am sorry to hear it.” Very sorry. News about the bicycle theft could wait. “Listen, please write down a name.” I waited while he fetched paper and pencil. “Tell thy parents I am urgently called to a birth, so I can’t come and help. They must telephone David Dodge of Newburyport. He will pay a visit and assess Rosalie’s condition. All right?” I doubted his meeting was over by now, but maybe it was.
“David Dodge of Newburyport,” he confirmed. “Is he a doctor?”
“Yes. And if they can’t get through to him, they should summon an ambulance wagon and take her with all due speed to Anna Jaques Hospital.”
“I will tell them.” His voice was solemn. “They are both beside themselves, Miss Rose.”
“Thee sounds calm, Sean. Please bring them a basin of cold water and remind them to bathe the baby over and over until she cools. Can thee help in that way?”
“Of course. She’s my little sister. I don’t want her to be sick.”
We said our farewells and ended the call. What a gift to have such a responsible and intelligent child in the household. I closed my eyes and held Rosalie in the Light of God, that she might recover and be well very soon. Then I held myself, too. I was facing a challenge in the next hours and would need divine assistance now more than ever.
Forty-three
Ten minutes later Aoife had shown me into Sissy Barclay’s bedchamber. Sissy sat in a loose tea dress with her legs over the side of the bed, her face pale and her hair in disarray. She had been perspiring with her efforts and her neck was wet. At least air wafted in through the open east-facing window and the room wasn’t overly warm.
“I am here, Sissy,” I said softly, moving to her side and setting down my birthing satchel. I’d learned how important it was to remain calm and be a strong, quiet presence when helping a laboring woman. “When did thy pains begin?”
She glanced helplessly at Aoife, who hovered in the doorway.
The cook checked the watch pinned to her bosom. “It’s now half past five. I’d say around three o’clock. I called yeh right away but yeh was out.”
Indeed. Out watching Sissy’s husband pick up another woman in his buggy at exactly that time. Did he leave because the labor had started?
“I got here as soon as I could. How frequently are the pains coming?” I perched on the bed next to her.
“Every three minutes or so?” Aoife offered. “Pretty regular like.”
Sissy nodded with wide eyes. “It’s too early, isn’t it, Rose? Will my babies survive?”
I stroked her hand. “We will do our best to make sure they do, Sissy. Thy only job now is to let go and allow thy body to do the work it needs to. There’s no going back once the womb has begun the process.”
“I already feel better now you’re here,” Sissy said.
“After the next contraction, let’s get thee into a nightdress and then I’ll assess where we are, all right?”
She nodded solemnly. Half a minute passed before she let out a groan. “Here it comes.” She set her hands on her knees and hung her head. Her forehead was tense with pain and she moaned in a low tone.
I stroked the wrinkles from her brow and murmured, “Thee is doing very well.” When she opened her eyes after the pain ended, I said, “Aoife, can thee find a light nightgown for Sissy?” I turned to see her waiting with it in her hands. “Thee is an excellent assistant.”
“I bore five babies meself and helped me daughters with their births, too.”
“I am glad of thy assistance.” We helped Sissy change, and I braided her hair in a long plait down her back. Aoife offered a damp cloth to wipe her face and neck. The day was cooling but labor is hard work. And I liked to get my mothers-to-be settled and tidy at the beginning, because they often don’t want to be touched as time goes along and the contractions grow more intense.
“Aoife, I’d like you to please bring a pitcher of water and a glass for Sissy.”
The cook bustled off as the next pain began. When it subsided, I asked Sissy to sit back against the pillows on the bed.
“I’m going to check where the babies are, and see how much thy womb has already opened.” I palpated her swollen belly. One baby was still head down and the other remained head up. If the head-down fetus came out first, the other would not have such a hard time. The head was the largest part of an infant’s body and left the birth canal open for the rest to descend. If the breech were the first, I would have a harder time ensuring both babies’ safety.
I readied to slide my hand in and check her dilation. “This might be uncomfortable, so breathe down to my hand.” She groaned as I assessed a three-knuckle opening and a nice thinning of the mouth of the uterus, what we called effacement. I withdrew my hand and wiped it on a cloth. “Thee is making good progress.”
After the next pain, I pressed the Pinard horn all over her belly and listened for heartbeats, but again detected only one.
Aoife returned with the drinking water as well as a stack of folded cloths. Sissy lay back and closed her eyes, and Aoife beckoned to me.
She turned her back to the bed and whispered. “The mister went out with the buggy earlier this afternoon.”
“Had the labor started by then? Does he know about it?”
“He wouldn’t be knowing. He spent the morning in the garden but got all cleaned up and dressed proper before he left. Wouldn’t say where he was off to. Think I should go a-lookin’ for him?”
I knew exactly who he’d cleaned up for. “Would thee have any way of knowing where he went?”
“No, in truth I don’t.”
“Then we’ll let him come home as he may and learn the news at that time, shall we?”
“Rose, help me,” Sissy called. “It hurts to lie down.” She twisted herself up to sitting on the edge of the bed before I got there. “Sitting hurts, too.”
I grabbed a pillow and laid it on the floor next to the be
d. “Try this position. Kneel on this pillow with thy knees wide and lean thy arms on the bed. Sometimes it helps. Hands and knees on the bed can be good, too.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she said once I’d maneuvered her into kneeling. “This position takes the weight off my back.”
“Good.”
“Tell Aoife to go away for a few minutes, please,” she murmured.
Why? “Aoife.” I twisted to look at her. “Sissy would like a word with me in private, if thee doesn’t mind.”
“Of course.” Aoife headed for the hall.
“I found something,” Sissy began after the door closed. “It’s . . . wait, here’s another.” It was an intense pain and she wailed.
“Try to keep thy tone low, Sissy. A low tone opens the throat and helps the womb open. A high voice creates tightness, and thee doesn’t want tightness or tension in thy body.”
She switched to an eerie low singing until the pain had passed. She spoke with her head on her folded forearms. “I was helping Aoife by putting away Mr. Barclay’s clean clothes in his chest of drawers yesterday. I found a small box with a powder in it. It was labeled Lily of the Valley. Why would he have such a powder?”
“Mmm.” I smoothed damp hair back off her brow. “Was it a talc scented like the flower?”
“No. I left it there. I didn’t want him angry at me for going through his things.” Now she wept in earnest. “Rose, I feel my life is at an end. I’m sure my husband of only a year is stepping out on me. I know I’m going to die birthing these babies and I’m sure they won’t survive, either.”
“Now, now, Sissy. None of this talk. Thee is a healthy young woman and thy babies will likely be, too. Remember, women have been giving birth for millennia. Thy body is made to do it.” I left her well-founded concern about Irvin unanswered. Only he could address that one. “Come along, dry thy tears.”
She lifted her face and sniffed, then moaned again and lowered her head to make her way through the next step on the way to birth.
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