Judge Thee Not

by Edith Maxwell

  Sissy looked up in wonder. “She’s got a strong suck for such a tiny thing.” She sniffed away a last—for now—tear.

  “Excellent,” I said. “She just needed a little time.”

  Aoife beamed from the corner where she sat, the rocker creaking with each back and forth. “Good. My babes did, too.”

  “The first milk is a thin substance full of many nutrients. It’s called colostrum.” I nodded encouragingly. “Thy true milk will descend in a day or two.” I watched as the baby nursed and then closed her eyes. “Blow gently on her face to wake her. She’ll need to eat frequently to gain weight, and thee should be sure to feed her on both sides every time.”

  We stayed until the baby was sated from suckling both breasts. “We’ll be going, now,” I said. “Aoife, please make sure Sissy always has fresh water to hand, and eats plentifully of fresh vegetables, meats, and milk.”

  “You’re eating for you and your baby in a different way now.” Annie smiled at Sissy. “Shall we say a Hail Mary together?”

  Sissy nodded, and the two young women recited their prayer, with Aoife chiming in from her rocker.

  “Rose, I think I’ll stay on a little longer,” Annie said.

  “As thee wishes. Aoife will bring thee something to eat, if I’m not mistaken.”

  The cook stood. “Right away. I’ll walk yeh down, Miss Carroll.”

  I touched the baby girl’s cheek. “What will thee name her?” I asked Sissy.

  Sissy gazed at me with steel in her eyes. “I will name her Irvina for her father. Perhaps having his name will help him to love her.”

  I gave a single nod. “I think thee is a wise young woman. Keep Irvina close beside thee in the bed, and feed her whenever she wakes. I shall return tomorrow to visit thee and the baby.” First Day notwithstanding, I often had work that called me on the Lord’s day of rest. I moved to the bureau where Irvina’s twin lay. He would never play with her, make up a secret language together, quibble over toys, nor be her constant companion and best friend as twins so often were, even boy-girl sets. I touched his cheek and sent up a prayer his death wouldn’t irrevocably split this new family.

  Once downstairs, I told Aoife I wanted to say goodbye to Irvin, and that I’d meet her in the kitchen. This time I knocked on the study door so I wouldn’t further raise his ire. He pulled open the door before Aoife even reached the kitchen.

  “What do you want?” His eyes looked haunted, but his sorrow didn’t prevent him from glaring at me.

  “I wanted to say good night. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how Sissy and the baby are doing.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. I’ve a mind to bring a lawsuit against you for killing my son. I don’t ever want to see you again, you, you, midwife.” He spat out the word like it was an obscene thing.

  I took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. “Thee is grieving and I understand.”

  “How could you understand? I’ve wanted a son with all my heart for decades. I told my wife to go to the hospital to deliver the babies, especially after she learned there were two. Use a real doctor, not some fly-by-night charlatan like you. But would she listen to me? No. And now my boy is dead.” He gripped my shoulders. “Dead! How are you going to explain his death, Miss Carroll?”

  I removed his hands and took a step back. “The baby wouldn’t have survived anywhere, believe me. I am deeply sorry for thy loss.” I drew myself up tall and strong. “But I must insist on visiting Sissy tomorrow. Many things can still go wrong with her health after childbirth. She is my responsibility.”

  “You’re not exactly a responsible lady, in my opinion,” he scoffed. He glanced behind me. “I’ll be going out, Mrs. O’Malley. And I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He pushed past both of us. A moment later the door slammed, shaking the house.

  Forty-seven

  I awoke with the heavy dark feeling I am invariably seized with in the aftermath of a tragic birthing outcome. I could only imagine Sissy’s own awakening, although she at least had a living baby to delight in and grow to know, a tiny thing who very much needed her. My other mothers who had lost newborns had only the one with no one to replace him or her in the days after the demise. Aoife had promised to keep a careful watch on Sissy until I returned to help her with nursing, if need be.

  Still, I had business to conduct this morning before Meeting for Worship. Conveying a small parcel to Kevin Donovan was foremost, and I also wanted to see how Rosalie was faring. I would visit Sissy and baby Irvina this afternoon. With any luck, Irvin would have gone out again so I wouldn’t have to encounter him.

  I gazed at the paper-wrapped package Aoife had slipped me last night after Irvin had stormed out. She’d tied it in string and it looked for all the world from the outside like a purchase of buttons or tobacco. I had slipped it into my satchel, then sat down for soup and pie before trudging home. Now it lay on my desk. Was it poison? Was it the weapon that dispatched Mayme Settle to her final resting place? If so, this case might be finally solved.

  Outside the day glowered, too. Rain clouds had blown in as I slept and the ground under the young swamp oak out front was dark with fresh rain. I dragged myself out of bed, washed up, and dressed. Once I opened my door, aromas of meat and coffee drew me to the kitchen as if I were being pulled by a rope of delectable fragrance.

  In the kitchen, by some miracle, Frederick had started the fire in the stove and was stirring a pot of porridge. Sausages sizzled in the skillet and a bowl of strawberries had been washed and trimmed. Had some alien being descended from another planet and occupied the body of my brother-in-law? Frederick never prepared food.

  “Good morning, brother.”

  “’Morning, Rose. Coffee’s ready.”

  I thanked him and poured myself a cup. “Where are the children?”

  “Upstairs planning a play they want to put on. Except for Luke, who’s sleeping, of course.”

  I smiled. The ability of teenaged Luke to sleep deep and long was legendary in the family. I helped myself to strawberries and porridge. “May I?” I pointed to the sausages.

  “Of course.”

  I added one to my plate, then sat with my breakfast. The morning’s newspaper was open and I idly perused it as I ate. My eyes widened when I glanced at the section advertising employment. One read, “Lady computers wanted for Professor Pickering’s group at Harvard College Observatory. Applicants must have completed high school and have good eyesight and an aptitude for numbers.” This must be where Nalia worked. When I read what the job paid, though, I was astonished. It was a pitifully low number for such a skilled occupation. My breakfast cooled as I thought. Jeanette had said Nalia’s father had died leaving debts, and her maid had said she was paid only a pittance. Nalia had a house to maintain. Where was she getting her money? And how often did she work in Cambridge? Going back and forth must be terribly onerous, and was the reason Jeanette’s husband stayed near Harvard during the week. Maybe Nalia lied about being in the Pickering observatory, or perhaps she was formerly employed there and had been fired for not arriving on time.

  A sausage popped on the stove and Frederick swore softly, rubbing his hand. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him utter such a word, but the children were nearly always nearby, which might explain it.

  I gazed at his back, putting aside my thoughts. “Frederick, I don’t believe I told thee David and I have finally been able to make a plan for our wedding. It will be in early Ninth Month.”

  He turned. “Thee must be very happy about having a date certain.”

  “Indeed I am.”

  “And I might share that Winnie has accepted my proposal to wed.” Frederick’s cheeks pinkened. “Not quite sure what she sees in me, but I am grateful to have the company of a fine woman like her.”

  “I’m delighted to hear this news.”

  He cleared his throat. “Thee knows no one can replace Harriet.”

  “Of course. I do not judge thee, Frederick, and I know the children love Winnie.
I will return the use of thy parlor to thee as soon as I become David’s wife. I was most grateful for thy offer to me after Harriet died, and I have greatly enjoyed being part of thy family in this home.”

  He turned back to the stove and pushed around the sausages before looking at me again. “I owe thee an apology. I have acted badly in the past. My dear betrothed has helped me see the error of my ways. I’m afraid thee has borne the brunt of many of my ill tempers.”

  Another wonder atop the first. “I accept thy apology. Thy life has not been easy these few years, I know.”

  “Thee is correct.”

  “If I might,” I continued, “I think it would be good to also apologize to thy children, as Way opens. I am an adult. I have ways of dealing with thy actions. They are innocents who have been hurt and bewildered at times by thy behavior.”

  He whirled. “I’ve already done it,” he snapped.

  Ah. So perhaps this new Frederick wouldn’t last. How quickly he’d reverted to his normal way of being.

  He turned back to the stove, taking in a deep breath and letting it out before speaking. “I have taken each child aside and had a quiet conversation about my bad moods, and have spoken with Faith, as well. The apologies have been made. I have also been eldered by my younger daughter about the term ‘moron,’ for which I apparently have thee to thank.”

  I concealed my smile as I stood and carried my dishes to the sink. I rinsed them before going to stand next to Frederick. We had never made a practice of embracing, unlike my cuddling habits with the children, so I extended my hand. “Peace between us, Frederick.”

  He took my hand and covered it with his other hand, as well. “Peace between us.” He made eye contact for a brief moment, then looked away.

  At a rapping on the side door, Frederick dropped my hand and called, “Come in.”

  Winnie pushed open the door. “Good morning, dear. Hello, Rose.” Her bright blue eyes shone in her barely lined face, and her black hair was a bit mussed under a summer boater. She was also a Friend, but had told me she didn’t care for bonnets, and that was that.

  Maybe Winnie was the impetus for the nice breakfast. I approved. “Good morning to thee.” I smiled at her. “I want to say how pleased I am that thee and Frederick will join in marriage.” I held out both hands. “I’ll be out of thy parlor in early Ninth Month, too. David and I have a date firm, at last.”

  She took my hands and squeezed. “I’m so happy for thee, Rose. I have some good news of another sort, too.” She dropped my hands and removed her hat. “Several friends and I have decided to continue Mayme’s knitting project for the little babies at the Alms Farm, and to sponsor other of her good works, as well. We’re calling it the Mayme Settle Benevolent Society.”

  “That’s splendid. I’m sure her daughter Helen will be happy to hear about it.”

  “I have already written to let her know,” Winnie said.

  “Well, I’m off on an errand. I’ll see thee both and the children at Meeting for Worship. Thank thee for the breakfast, Frederick.”

  “Don’t mention it.” His voice grew gruff, as if all this honest talk of feelings and making amends had unsettled him.

  Forty-eight

  I wanted to deliver the tin to the police, but I also needed to see how Rosalie was faring, and the Donovan home was in the opposite direction from the police station. I slid the wrapped tin into my pocket, not needing to bring my satchel, and donned bonnet and the oiled rain cloak David had purchased for me.

  After I stood at Kevin and Emmaline’s front door on Boardman Street for five minutes knocking and calling out, I gave up. They were clearly not at home. I prayed Rosalie was not so ill she’d had to be taken to the hospital. Maybe Kevin had been called into the station to pursue a murderer and Emmaline had taken the children to her mother’s. But no, Emmaline had said her mother was away. Frowning, I reversed my steps and walked back to Market Square and along Friend Street to the police station.

  As I started up the steps, a tall angular woman in her thirties pushed out through the door. Her eyes were red in a narrow face. She wore a black dress cut in a simple style and a black bowler atop her dark hair.

  There was a trace of the familiar in her visage. I greeted her. “My name is Rose Carroll.” I took a guess. “Would thee be Mayme and Merton’s daughter?”

  She halted, peering at me. “Yes, I’m Helen Settle. How in tarnation did you know that, Miss Carroll?”

  “Thy face resembles thy father’s.” I hoped that wasn’t a rude thing to say to a woman, and if I’d known Mayme when she was younger and perhaps less full of figure I might have seen more similarity with her and her daughter. “May I offer my sympathies on the passing of thy mother?”

  “Thank you.” She sniffed. “You knew them, I take it?”

  “Not well, but I was at their home the night Mayme died, in fact, at a knitting circle thy mother led.”

  “Not many seem to be grieving for her.”

  “That’s a pity.” I clasped my hands in front of me. Merton hadn’t seemed to grieve at all for his wife, alas.

  “My mother was a difficult woman, as you might know. But she was still my mother, and didn’t deserve to be—” She brought her hand to her mouth as her shoulders shook. After she regained control, she said, “Forgive me. It’s all so hard to fathom.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” I reached out and touched her arm. “Thee is devastated and rightly so.”

  “I came as soon as I could, but I had to administer final exams. I teach at Smith College and it’s end of term.” She blew out a long, sad breath. “My father appears to be helpless in the face of this tragedy, so it’s up to me to make all the arrangements.”

  “Such as the funeral?”

  “Yes,” Helen said. “And talking with the police, I’m afraid.” She jutted her head forward. “Do you work with them? Why are you here on a Sunday morning?”

  I laughed lightly. “I have a small bit of business with the detective, but no, I do not work for the police.”

  “I see.”

  “Thee is staying at the family home, I assume.”

  “No. I’m with a friend while I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “It’s, uh, more comfortable there.” She didn’t meet my gaze.

  More comfortable than the big well-appointed home she’d grown up in? Perhaps she was estranged from her father, too.

  “Well, I’d best be off,” she said. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Carroll. You’re a Quaker, I gather.”

  “Yes. I’m pleased to have met thee, as well.” I extended my hand. “I wish it had been under happier circumstances.”

  Helen shook hands with a firm grip. “You aren’t alone in that wish.” She trudged down the steps and away toward town.

  I entered the station and, to my surprise, Sean sat on a high stool at the front desk. He wore a too-large patrolman’s hat. His face split in a big grin when he saw me.

  “Miss Rose!”

  “Hello, Sean. Is thee now employed by the Amesbury Police Department?”

  An officer of a more appropriate age sat at the desk behind Sean. He waved at me. “I’m here if need be.”

  I nodded at the officer and said to Sean, “I was at thy house but no one seemed to be at home. How is thy sister faring?”

  His expression sobered. “She’s not very well. She and Mummy had to go to the Anna Jaques Hospital.”

  My heart sank. “Oh, my. I am indeed sorry to hear this. They went yesterday?”

  “Yes. They called your doctor friend, Mr. Dodge, and after he examined her he took them himself in his carriage. So I’m here working with Papa.”

  “I’m sure they will help her at the hospital, Sean. Thee shouldn’t worry, all right?”

  “Very well.” The boy spoke so softly I could barely hear him.

  “Now, I must speak with thy father. May I go to his office?” This question I directed to the man behind Sean, who had now put his feet up on his desk.

  “Go ahe
ad on back.” The officer gestured toward the door to the back. “The chief ain’t here and it’s Sunday morning.”

  “I thank thee. I’ll see thee before I leave, Sean.”

  He saluted in the most adorable fashion. He beckoned me closer. “Papa’s quite concerned about Rosalie.”

  I nodded. “I’ll see if I can help in any way.” I shed my rain cloak and hung it on a hook, then made my way through the door until I stood in the open doorway of Kevin’s office. He stood backlit at the window, gazing out with his hands clasped behind his back. I knocked on the jamb.

  “Kevin?”

  He turned. “Ah, Miss Rose. Top o’ the morning to you.” His words were jovial. His tone was anything but, and the skin below his eyes looked bruised from worry and lack of sleep.

  “Sean told me Rosalie had to go to the hospital. What a pity. Thee and Emmaline weren’t able to reduce her fever?”

  “No. But your Mr. Dodge is a fine fellow, he is. Took the wife and the babe in his own carriage and wouldn’t accept a red cent in payment.”

  My throat thickened in sudden emotion. “He is indeed a fine man. Did he say if they might offer a treatment for the fever?”

  “He seemed to think they would. Something to do with willow bark, perhaps.”

  “Yes. It contains a substance that can help lower fevers.” David must have decided on an appropriate dose for an infant and perhaps used a buffering agent, as well. “Has thee had word this morning yet?”

  “Emmaline left a message here that the nurses are offering a measure of hope for our baby.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. May I sit?’

  “Of course. Forgive my lack of manners.”

  I perched on the chair facing his desk while he sat on the other side. “Have there been any developments in Mayme’s murder?”

  “Not much at all, more’s the pity.”

  “Kevin, my bicycle was stolen from Powow Street yesterday in the early afternoon. A neighbor, a Ted Jennings, said he saw two men drive up in a runabout. One jumped down and rode off on the bike.”