by Rhys Bowen
“I’ll go and tell Mother that you’re here,” she said.
It smelled old and damp and musty. No sunlight came into the room and I shivered as I sat there. I hoped the quarters for those poor girls were a little more cheerful than this—or perhaps the object was to make sure they knew they were being punished for their sins. At least they were only here for a short while, whereas the nuns—
“Dominus vobiscum,”said a voice right behind me, making me jump. I hadn’t heard the door open and looked around to see I was still alone in the room. “Don’t be alarmed, my child,” the voice said again and I saw that a shadowy figure, draped head to toe in black, had appeared behind a carved wood grille built into the wall.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” I laughed nervously. “I hadn’t expected the wall to be talking to me, like a confessional.”
“I’m not the mother superior,” she said. “She’s at her prayers and we didn’t want to disturb her. I’m Sister Perpetua, her second-in-command. And surely you knew that we are an enclosed order.” The voice was soft, gentle, ageless with an Irish lilt to it. “We keep the grille between ourselves and the outside world.” Even though she spoke in little more than a whisper her voice echoed around that dismal room.
“What about the girls who come here?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Do you keep yourselves shut away from them?” I spoke louder without meaning to and my voice howled back at me.
“As much as possible. There is strict division between our convent life and the life of our charges. The young women essentially take care of themselves and sleep and eat apart from us. It would not be wise for our sisters to see the babies. It would remind the younger ones too much of what they have chosen to give up to enter here. Now how can I help you?”
“I have two reasons for coming here,” I said. “I understand that when the girls leave here they are sometimes placed in domestic service.”
“That is correct. Are you looking for a servant at this time?”
“I am.”
“Any particular type of servant?”
I was tempted to say “under-parlormaid,” but I replied, “Just a maid of all work to help me in a small New York household. The work would not be overly taxing but I would want a reliable, cheerful girl.”
“Of course you would,” she said. “I’d have to confer with Sister Jerome, who is in charge of these young women and their babies, but I don’t think a suitable candidate springs to mind at the moment. We’ve a couple of lovely young women who recently delivered, but they have both expressed a desire to enter the convent.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Quite regularly. You see these girls have experienced the unfairness and cruelty of the outside world and they compare it to the tranquility of our lives. It’s an easy choice.”
I decided to take the plunge. “You had a girl here called Maureen O’Byrne,” I said. “Is she no longer with you?”
“Maureen? Why, no, my dear. She left us more than two months ago. Was it Maureen you particularly wanted to hire?”
“Not particularly, but I’m acquainted with her family back in Ireland and they wrote to me expressing concern about her. So I hope to be able to give them news of her. Do you happen to know where she went?”
“I understood she was going back to her former place of employment.”
“I’ve been to visit Mrs. Mainwaring, her former employer, but Maureen did not return there.”
“Oh, how strange. Of course I have no direct contact with the young women but we sisters are certainly privy to what is happening on the other side of the grille. I could swear that she left to go back to her former employers because we sisters were cheered by this woman’s generosity and Christian charity.”
“I see,” I said. “Is there perhaps one of Maureen’s particular friends still here in whom she could have confided a secret plan she didn’t share with the sisters?”
“I’m not sure if any of them are still here. They are usually required to go back into the world as soon as they are fit and strong, so that we have room for another girl to take their place. Unfortunately there is always more need than we can fill in our small way. It’s a wicked world out there, as I’m sure you know.”
“Do they ever take their babies with them?” I asked.
“We discourage that strongly. There is no future for an unmarried woman with a child and Sister Jerome works wonders in finding adoptive families for the babies. Almost every one of them goes to a good home.”
“And those that don’t?”
“I’m afraid it’s the Foundling Hospital for them. But we try our very best, and there are always childless couples who long for a little one of their own, aren’t there? Luckily we’ve developed quite a reputation and so they come to us from far and wide.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “So would there be nobody here who can tell me anything more about what happened to Maureen?”
“No doubt Sister Jerome would know. She’s now in charge of the maternity cases. It used to be our dear Sister Francine but she died recently. Sister Jerome is the order’s bursar and thus responsible for the placement of the girls and their babies. She’s most efficient. She would have signed the order to release the girl.”
“Could I possibly speak to her?”
There was a distinct pause before she said, “I’m not sure if she’s occupied at this moment, or maybe still at her prayers. If you’ll open that door behind you and call for Katy for me, she can go and search for her. But I can’t guarantee that she’ll come.”
My feet echoed from the stone floor to the vaulted ceiling as I crossed the room. And even though I spoke in a low voice, it echoed into unseen darkness as I called for Katy. She appeared right away, brushing down her apron.
“Are you leaving, ma’am?” she asked.
“No, Sister Perpetua wants you to run an errand for me.”
Katy stepped into the parlor. “Yes, Sister,” she asked reverently. “What do you need?”
“This lady would like to talk to Sister Jerome,” the voice said. I still had no idea what she looked liked, whether she was large, small, old, or young. She was just a black shape with a lighter oval of featureless face that spoke. “Could you go and find her and see if she has time to come to the parlor grille?”
“Very good, Sister,” she said and I heard her neat little feet tapping away down a hall.
“That one’s a good child,” Sister Perpetua said. “They all are, at heart. Just foolish, most of them. Not evil. She’d make you a good servant in a month or so, if you’re prepared to wait.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I think that might work splendidly.” I had already taken to her.
We waited in silence. Actually I wasn’t even sure that she was still behind the grille. There was no question of small talk. At last a sharper, deeper, more powerful voice said, “Sister Perpetua tells me you want to see me.”
I stared at the grille and could make out a taller, thinner shape—so tall and thin that any hint of a face was cut off from my view above the grille.
“This lady is looking to hire a servant, Sister,” Sister Perpetua said. “And she’s inquiring after Maureen O’Byrne.”
“Maureen?” the sharp voice said. “She left us a while ago.”
“Do you know where she went, Sister?”
“We do. She was going back to the family she worked for previously. They were generous enough to forgive her sin.”
“I’ve been to visit them,” I said, “and she never came back.”
“She didn’t? Silly girl. I’m afraid she had ideas about bettering herself. I just hope she hasn’t run off to the city. No good will come of that.”
“Didn’t she just up and go without saying good-bye?” Sister Perpetua asked.
“She did, ungrateful child,” Sister Jerome answered. “Slipped out while the sisters were in chapel at matins one morning and her fellows were asleep. It wasn’t until breakfast that
we realized nobody had seen her. A stupid thing to do really. She was due to be released anyway within a couple of days.”
“Is it possible she ran off with a young man?” I asked. “The baby’s father?”
Sister Jerome sucked through her teeth. “I suppose that is possible, although I got the impression that the baby’s father wasn’t in a position to marry her. A married man, I’d always thought.”
“I just wondered,” I said cautiously, “whether she might have confided in another girl here of a secret plan she didn’t share with you. Whether she had a special friend here.”
“Sister Francine was still in charge when Maureen was here. I had little contact with her,” Sister Jerome said. “But from what I understand she was a religious girl. Her religion meant a lot to her and I suspect she felt her shame strongly, which would have kept her from making friends here.” Before I could speak again she added, “Besides, I suspect all those who were here with her have departed by now.”
I wasn’t sure if she was being deliberately obstructive or just matter of fact. I took a deep breath. “Would you be kind enough to tell me where I could find any of those girls now? Are any still living in the area?”
“May one ask why this interest in the girl? If you’re wanting to hire her, I think you’d be out of luck. If the Mainwarings weren’t good enough for her, then I suspect you’d have to be a Rockefeller.” And she gave a dry little half laugh, half cough.
“No, I wasn’t wanting to hire her,” I said. “I received a letter from her family in Ireland, concerned because they hadn’t heard from her in a long while and wanting news of her.”
“She wouldn’t have written home, would she?” the sharp voice said. “In fact she told me herself that she could never go home again and face them, after what she’d done. She said they’d die of shame and grief.”
“I think she’d be surprised. They are very fond of her. Very worried about her.”
“Are you a relative?” she asked.
I wondered if I’d be given more information if I said I was. “No. I’m not a relative, just someone that the family knew how to contact in New York. They wrote me such a sad letter, I wanted to help if I could. I know what it’s like to be worrying about somebody and imagining the worst.”
“I wish we could help you put their minds at rest, my dear,” Sister Perpetua said in her soft voice. “But if Sister here knows nothing about where she’s gone, then I’m afraid we have lost her. All we can do is offer to pray.”
“We will certainly pray for Maureen,” Sister Jerome said. “And hope that she sees the error of her ways and returns to the family who were kind to her.”
“I’m staying nearby in Elmsford,” I said. “If you hear any news of her, would you please let me know? I’ll write the address on the back of my card and give it to Katy.”
“You may certainly do that,” Sister Jerome said. “But I doubt we will hear anything. We keep ourselves purposely shut away and hear little news from the wicked world outside. I bid you good day. Pax vobiscum. Katy, would you show this lady out?”
I heard the swish of black robes behind the grille.
Fourteen
The sunlight was overwhelmingly bright as Katy opened the big front door for me. I stood there blinking, feeling the heat radiating from that stone wall and the high demented screech of cicadas in the trees.
“Thank you, Katy,” I said. “You’ve been most kind. When is your own baby due?”
“In about two weeks, they say,” she said, looking down at the ground and not meeting my eyes.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to get it over with,” I said.
She nodded, her eyes still averted from me. “I’m not looking forward to the birth, though. I’ve heard the other girls. It sounds awful. They scream and curse and call for their mothers—and some of them die.”
“You’re a good strong girl. I’m sure you’ll come through it just fine,” I said. “I have to confess I’m just a tad apprehensive about it myself, but we women all have to go through it, don’t we?”
“It seems so unfair,” she said, looking up at me now. “I mean he was the one who forced me to do it with him and his life hasn’t changed at all. If I went home again, I’d be soiled goods. No respectable man will want to marry me.”
“It’s very unfair, I agree,” I said. “Look, Katy, after you’ve had the baby, I’d like to offer you a job working for me in New York City. I’ve only a small house and the work wouldn’t be hard and you’d be experiencing life in the big city—maybe you’d be able to make something of yourself there. You’d certainly have a chance to meet some nice boys who don’t know about your past.”
Her whole face lit up with unconcealed joy. “You’d do that for me? Oh, ma’am. I promise you I’d be the best servant ever. I come from country stock so I’m not afraid of hard work. I was dreading having to go back to Red Hook.”
“Then we’ll call it settled, shall we? My name’s Mrs. Sullivan. I’ll call back after the baby is born and see how you are doing.”
She nodded.
“I’d better be off then,” I said. “I’m getting a lift back into town.” I thought I could see a cart approaching between the trees.
“There is one thing, ma’am,” she said in a low voice as I went to move away. “You were asking about Maureen.”
“Yes,” I said. “Did you know her?”
“A little. I arrived just before she was due to leave so I never got to know her well, but I got the impression that she was going back to the family she’d come from. At least I heard her say, ‘What choice do I have? Who else would take me in?’”
“But Sister says she just escaped early one morning?”
“She did. When we filed in to take our places at breakfast she wasn’t there and nobody had seen her. Sister Jerome was annoyed because nobody was allowed to sleep in late. Then when we searched and found she’d gone, Sister was really furious. She kept saying what an ungrateful girl Maureen was and how the rest of us better appreciate what was being done for us.”
“You say you didn’t know her well. Can you think of any girls who might have known her better—a girl she might have confided in what she planned to do?”
Katy chewed on her lip, making her look like a five year old. Again I was struck with how absurdly young she was. “There was Emily Robbins. Those two were thick together. I don’t know why Sister didn’t mention her.”
“And do you know where Emily was going when she left here?”
“I believe she was going home,” Katy said. “She came from a respectable family. They have a farm not too far from here. Near Cortland I think she said. So she was planning to go home and they were giving out that she’d been on a trip abroad with a family friend.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll try to pay her a visit. People usually confide in someone if they are planning something, don’t they?”
The lip was still being chewed. “That was what was so hard when I found out about the baby. There was nobody to tell. I kept it to myself until it started to show, not knowing what to do. And then my mother noticed and she told my dad and he threw me out of the house and said never to come back.” There was a long pause. “And my mom didn’t say a word. Not even good-bye.”
“Katy, I’m so sorry.” I touched her shoulder gently. “I’ll make sure you have a good home with me, all right? And you’ll have a baby to look after too.”
She managed a smile. Seth and the cart appeared between the last of the fir trees. “I have to go,” I said.
She moved closer to me. “There was one other thing that was strange,” she said. “Like Sister said, Maureen was religious. She had this little statue of Our Lady. A lovely little thing, beautifully carved, it was. She said her granddad made it for her first communion. She kept it on the table beside her bed. Well, after she’d gone, I was told to strip her bed and clean out her cubby and I found she’d left things behind.”
“What kind of things?”
“And the little statue of Our Lady?”
She leaned very close to me and said in a whisper. “I found it in a wastebasket. So I’m puzzled. She’d never have left that behind unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless she had to leave in a real hurry.”
“Katy?” a voice boomed from the darkness inside.
Katy shot a fearful look around. “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out here, talking.”
“I’ll see you soon, Katy. I’ll be back,” I called as she ran inside. The big wooden door closed with a resounding boom. I went to meet Seth and hauled myself up onto the cart.
“I see they didn’t lock you in one of their cells then,” he said as he flicked a whip at the horse.
“I didn’t get a chance to see any cells. I was only allowed in the parlor.”
“I don’t understand it myself,” he said as the horse picked up speed. “Shutting themselves away from the world like that. It ain’t natural. No wonder they go funny.”
We came back into the center of Tarrytown and I met Jonah and Bridie at the appointed place.
“You’re back too soon,” Bridie complained. “We didn’t even have a chance to buy an ice cream yet.”
I glanced up at the clock on the train station and saw that I’d been away for less than an hour. It felt more like a lifetime.
* * *
After Bridie and I had shared a sundae in the soda fountain, we got into the trap, picked up the chicken from the butcher, and headed back to Elmsford. Bridie chatted excitedly about everything she’d seen—a man catching a big fish and a sudden breeze that had blown another man’s hat into the river and a fisherman who had managed to hook the hat and fish it out. And a girl had waved to her from the top deck of a paddle steamer. Her only regret was that she had not been allowed to swim like the little boys who jumped off the jetty.