Murder on Sisters' Row

by Victoria Thompson

  “Yes, please.”

  She left Sarah standing in the front hall as she hurried off toward the rear of the house. In a few minutes, Mrs. Van Orner came into the front parlor, where Sarah had found a seat on a battered sofa. Miss Yingling came trailing along behind.

  “Mrs. Brandt, we can’t thank you enough,” Mrs. Van Orner said as Sarah rose. “Your information was invaluable.”

  “Not as invaluable as your courage,” Sarah replied. “If you and your friends hadn’t been willing to go in there . . .”

  Mrs. Van Orner waved Sarah’s praise away. “Not at all. We simply do God’s work. Tamar said you wanted to examine the girl. I think that’s a good idea. She was extremely agitated during the entire event. I’m so glad you brought the baby over, though. Perhaps she’ll calm down now. If not, we can give her some laudanum.”

  “I’d rather not, since it can go through the milk and make the baby too groggy to feed well. Let me see how she’s doing first.”

  “Certainly. Tamar, will you take Mrs. Brandt upstairs?”

  Miss Yingling seemed only too glad to oblige. She led the way and Sarah followed.

  “How many women live in the house?” Sarah asked as they climbed the stairs.

  “Just two others right now. We have room for more, but the women don’t do well if they have to share a room with someone, I’m afraid. They have a difficult time adjusting to normal life, so we try to give them privacy when we can.”

  “Is it unusual for a woman to be as agitated as Amy was?”

  “Not at all. They’re frightened and excited at the prospect of freedom. Some of them become hysterical while others just huddle in a corner and shake.”

  Miss Yingling stopped in front of one of the doors that lined the upstairs hallway. Sarah could hear the murmur of voices from inside. Miss Yingling tapped lightly, then opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

  “Mrs. Brandt would like to see Amy,” she announced.

  The room was already crowded. Furnished with a plain iron bedstead, a wardrobe, and a washstand, the place felt more utilitarian than comfortable. Plain muslin curtains hung at the window, and the walls were painted an ugly shade of brown. Amy lay propped in the bed, the baby at her breast, and Mrs. Spratt-Williams and the girl Tamar had told her about, Lisa Biafore, stood by, ready to help in any way. Miss Yingling and Sarah took up the remaining floor space.

  “Mrs. Brandt,” Amy said, brightening. “I got out!”

  “Yes, you did. I’m very happy for you.”

  “You should be. You have no idea how horrible that place was. Of course, my room there was a lot nicer than this,” she said, looking with disfavor around her current accommodations.

  “You should be grateful you’ve got a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in,” Lisa Biafore chided.

  Amy ignored her. “I’m hungry. I have to keep up my strength to feed the baby.”

  Lisa sniffed in disapproval. “It’s not mealtime yet, but I’ll see what we have in the kitchen.”

  “I’d like some bread and jam,” Amy said. “Strawberry is my favorite.”

  Lisa rolled her eyes as she passed Sarah on the way out of the room.

  “You missed all the excitement, Mrs. Brandt,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said.

  “Miss Yingling told me. Amy, how are you feeling?”

  If Miss Yingling’s eyes were sparkling, Amy’s were glittering. “I’m as happy as I can be.”

  Sarah smiled. “No, I mean are you having any discomfort? Any bleeding?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to even think about it.” But now that she did, she apparently decided she needed to complain. “That man was very rough with me, you know. Carried me out of the house and practically threw me into the carriage. Didn’t give me a chance to get dressed or anything!”

  “They didn’t have time,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “They had to get you out before someone raised the alarm.”

  “And the carriage was so old, I don’t think it even had any springs left. I’m probably black-and-blue from bouncing around.”

  “Would you mind if I examined you? I want to make sure you’re still doing all right.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She unceremoniously removed the baby from her breast and held him out to Mrs. Spratt-Williams. “Would you take care of him for me? That girl who was here said she was going to get something to use for a diaper.”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams took the damp baby gingerly, holding him away from her so as not to soil her gown. “I’ll just . . . I’ll take him downstairs.” She hurried out.

  Miss Yingling closed the door.

  “I don’t have my medical bag with me, but if I need something, I can always come back later,” Sarah said.

  Amy cooperated completely as Sarah examined her, making sure she was none the worse for the excitements of the day.

  “I’m awfully tired,” Amy said when Sarah had finished.

  “That’s to be expected. I would never advise a new mother to go for a carriage ride on her first day out of bed, but you seem to be just fine otherwise. Get some rest now, and you’ll be your old self in another week or so.”

  “Who’s going to help me with the baby? I can’t take care of him all by myself, you know.”

  “The other women will help you, I’m sure,” Miss Yingling said. “Having a baby in the house will probably be something of a novelty.”

  “What other women?” Amy asked.

  “Other women like you,” Sarah said. “Women who escaped from prostitution.”

  “I wasn’t a prostitute,” Amy said, a bit indignantly. “I was only in that house for my safety, until the baby was born.”

  “Is that so?” Miss Yingling asked with interest. “How did you get there?”

  “My baby’s father took me there.”

  “A brothel seems an odd place to take a woman who’s expecting a baby,” Miss Yingling said.

  Amy glared at her for a moment, and then she said to Sarah, “I want to see Mrs. Van Orner.”

  “She’s too busy to see you,” Miss Yingling said.

  “I want to thank her for saving me and my baby,” Amy said to Sarah, totally ignoring Miss Yingling.

  “Saving you from what?” Miss Yingling scoffed. “If you weren’t a prostitute—”

  “Miss Yingling, would you ask Mrs. Van Orner if she can see Amy?” Sarah asked to make peace.

  Miss Yingling shook her head in dismay, but she went out in search of her employer.

  “How long do you think I’ll have to stay here?” Amy asked, glancing around the room with obvious disdain.

  “Miss Biafore was right, you should be grateful you have a place to live.”

  “Oh, I am, but I didn’t realize it would be so . . .” She shrugged, unable to think of a word to describe it.

  Sarah didn’t help her. “I’m very glad you’re in a place where you have someone to look after you until you get your strength back.”

  “If everybody here is a whore, it’s not much different than the place where I was.”

  “I doubt you’ll see any men here,” Sarah said.

  Amy widened her eyes in appreciation of Sarah’s observation. “Oh, no, I won’t! Do you know they don’t allow men in here at all? They can’t even come through the front door. Those men who helped rescue me? One of them carried me to the door and set me down. I had to walk inside myself.”

  “I’m sure they’re trying to avoid any appearance of evil.”

  Amy shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “I can’t imagine how boring it must be here. I’ll bet they don’t even allow music or anything.”

  Sarah was becoming annoyed at Amy’s lack of appreciation. “I’m sure they manage to amuse themselves somehow.”

  “Those prigs? Not likely.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ll do when you’re recovered?” Sarah asked.

  Amy looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ll have to make your own
way in the world, and now you have a baby to support. Do you have any family who can help you?”

  “My family couldn’t take care of themselves, much less me.”

  “Friends, perhaps?”

  Amy considered the question for a long moment. “Yes, I do have friends.”

  “I’ll be happy to get in touch with them for you.”

  Amy smiled mysteriously. “You’ve already done enough, Mrs. Brandt. I’ll take care of that myself.”

  Before Sarah could reply, the bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Van Orner and Miss Yingling came in.

  “How are you feeling, Amy?” Mrs. Van Orner asked.

  “Much better, although I’m starving. That Italian girl said she’d get me something to eat, but she hasn’t come back yet.”

  “I’m sure she’ll take care of you. We’re very glad to have you here.”

  “I’m very glad to be here. I wanted to thank you for all your help, Mrs. Van Orner. I don’t think I thanked you before.”

  “You were upset,” Mrs. Van Orner said. “That’s understandable.”

  “I couldn’t believe you made me leave all my things behind,” Amy said, still aggrieved. “I don’t have a stitch to wear.”

  “We’ll make sure you have everything you need, including new clothes that are more appropriate to your new life.” Mrs. Van Orner glanced meaningfully at Amy’s frilly dressing gown.

  Miss Yingling had left the door open, and Mrs. Spratt-Williams walked in carrying the baby in her arms. He was wrapped in what looked like part of an old sheet.

  “Here he is,” she announced to all, as proudly as if she’d just given birth to him herself. “All clean and dry. Miss Biafore tore up an old towel to make a diaper. We’ll need to get a layette for him, Vivian,” she said to Mrs. Van Orner.

  “We certainly will,” she agreed, admiring the baby as Mrs. Spratt-Williams held him out for all of them to see.

  “What’s the baby’s name?” Miss Yingling asked. Sarah had the oddest impression she wasn’t so much interested as she was goading Amy, although that couldn’t possibly be true.

  “I haven’t named him yet,” Amy said. “I was afraid to, in case they took him away from me, you see.”

  “Oh, how awful for you,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” She leaned over and placed the baby in Amy’s arms. “No one’s going to take him away now.”

  “No, they aren’t,” Mrs. Van Orner said.

  “So you can name him now,” Miss Yingling said, her lips stretching into a mirthless smile. “Maybe you want to name him after your father.”

  “That no-good bum? Not likely,” Amy said. “He lost all our money and left us to starve.”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams tut-tutted. “That’s all too common, I’m afraid. Yes, indeed, a very familiar story.”

  “Perhaps there’s a man you admire,” Mrs. Van Orner suggested. “Someone you’d like your son to be like when he grows up.”

  “Oh, yes, there is,” Amy agreed, admiring the boy as she spoke. “I know exactly who I want to name him for.”

  “Who is that, my dear?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked.

  “I want to name him Gregory, for his father.”

  All the other women gasped, Sarah included. She couldn’t imagine why Amy would want to name the boy for the man who had seduced and betrayed her. If she could even be sure who the baby’s father was, that is.

  If Amy was aware how she had shocked her audience, she gave no indication. She just continued to admire the baby, giving him her finger to grasp, and when Sarah turned her gaze to the other women, she realized that Amy’s remark had disturbed them even more than it had her.

  Mrs. Van Orner had gone white. “Excuse me,” she murmured and hurried out of the room. Mrs. Spratt-Williams followed her immediately, leaving Miss Yingling, who stared at Amy with the oddest expression on her face. Sarah could have sworn it was grudging admiration, although she couldn’t imagine what she saw in Amy to admire. Then she, too, was gone.

  “Yes,” Amy said to no one in particular, “I think I’ll call him Gregory. It’s such a dignified name, don’t you think?” She looked up and seemed surprised to notice that most of her company had gone.

  “Do you know where your baby’s father is?” Sarah asked.

  “I can find him.”

  “Does he know about the baby?”

  “Oh, yes. I told you, he sent me to Mrs. Walker’s so I’d be safe until the baby came.”

  Sarah had indeed heard her say that, but she hadn’t believed it for a moment. And if he had, why had she needed Mrs. Van Orner’s help to escape? “You told me that they made you . . . uh . . . entertain customers there.”

  She gave Sarah what could have passed for an apologetic look if Amy had actually been sincere. “I had to tell you something so you’d help me get away. I could see what that old bitty was planning. She really was going to take the baby and put me to work.”

  “But if your baby’s father . . . ?”

  “Once she made me a whore, he wouldn’t want me anymore, would he? That’s what she was thinking. That’s why I had to get away.”

  Sarah had to admit, this made a tiny bit of sense, and if there was any truth in it at all . . . “Your baby’s father, will he . . . help you?”

  Amy stared at Sarah, considering her question, or perhaps considering her answer. “He will now,” she finally said.

  Sarah wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. If it was true, Amy and her baby would be taken care of. Such a scenario seemed too good to be true. Much too good to be true, in Sarah’s experience. Perhaps Amy didn’t have the same experience.

  “You should try to get some rest now,” Sarah said, deciding this wasn’t the time for a discussion on the subject. “And if you have any discomfort or anything seems not quite right, send for me.”

  “Oh, I will,” Amy promised. “I’m going to take very good care of myself, Mrs. Brandt.”

  Sarah was still mulling over Amy’s words when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Lisa Biafore came from the rear of the house carrying a tray and muttering imprecations under her breath. She passed Sarah on her way up the stairs. Amy was getting her strawberry jam, Sarah noted.

  “Mrs. Brandt?”

  Sarah looked up to see Mrs. Spratt-Williams coming out of the parlor, a worried frown creasing her brow.

  “Would you have a few minutes? Mrs. Van Orner would like to speak with you.”

  “Of course.” Sarah followed her into the parlor.

  Mrs. Van Orner sat on the sofa where Sarah had waited earlier, her face still chalk white, and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Miss Yingling stood across the room, by the fireplace, her back ramrod stiff, her expression pinched. Two spots of color burned in her cheeks.

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams closed the parlor doors behind them and turned to face Sarah. “I told Vivian that it’s just a coincidence, that she couldn’t possibly have known.”

  “Known what?”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams pressed her lips together and took a step back. She didn’t want to say. Sarah turned to Miss Yingling for an explanation, but she simply stared back, looking miserable. Finally, Mrs. Van Orner said, “My husband’s name is Gregory.”

  Oh! Of course! Sarah remembered now. No wonder they’d gasped and looked so horrified.

  “I know it’s just a coincidence,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams repeated. “Please, Mrs. Brandt, tell her.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure what she was supposed to tell her. She looked at Mrs. Van Orner helplessly. Mrs. Van Orner managed to smile. “I was shocked, of course, to hear his name, but I don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

  Sarah managed not to gasp again. “Mrs. Van Orner, you can’t possibly think . . .”

  “That my husband fathered that child?” Mrs. Van Orner asked archly. “Of course not. I am, however, concerned that the girl will make the claim in order to . . .” She waved her hand vaguely.

&
nbsp; “To get money from you,” Miss Yingling said baldly.

  Mrs. Van Orner did not acknowledge the accusation. “Mrs. Brandt, would you be so kind as to sit down here and tell me everything you know about this girl?”

  “Of course!” Sarah took a seat on the sofa beside her and proceeded to recount every conversation she’d ever had with Amy, including the last one. Not surprisingly, she knew very little about the girl’s background, and what few facts she’d been told seemed to contradict each other.

  “So she told you how much she hated the things she had to do with the customers, and just now she claimed she’d never actually been a prostitute,” Mrs. Van Orner mused.

  “That’s easy enough to explain,” Miss Yingling said.

  “Now that she’s out of the brothel, she doesn’t want people to think she was a whore.”

  “Tamar’s right,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “Men don’t put women in brothels for safekeeping, and madams don’t rent rooms to young women who are waiting to deliver a baby.”

  “That’s true,” Mrs. Van Orner said, “but madams don’t allow their girls to carry babies either.”

  “I remember Mrs. Walker made a remark about how Amy had lied to her,” Sarah said. “She could have concealed her pregnancy until it was too late to do anything about it.”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Mrs. Van Orner said. “You would know better than I. I’m afraid I have little experience with such things.”

  Sarah saw the sadness in her eyes, the disappointment of a woman whose purpose in life had not been fulfilled. Sarah recognized it because she bore that same disappointment. “I’ve known women who were able to conceal their condition for many months, especially with a first baby.”

  “But why would she do that? Why would she want to keep the child?” Miss Yingling asked.

  The other three women just gaped at her. Finally, Mrs. Spratt-Williams said, “Perhaps she wanted it, my dear.”

  “And that would also explain her desperation to escape that awful place,” Mrs. Van Orner added. “She must have known they’d take her child from her.”

  “Could Amy have known Gregory is Mr. Van Orner’s name?” Miss Yingling asked in a naked effort to turn the subject back to their original concern.