He trailed his lips along her neck, leaving her skin wet as he gripped her arms savagely.
“Believe me I will. I always get what I want.”
Desperate, Bridget’s hands flew behind her. There must be something on the desk she could use to defend herself. His grip on her tightened as his lips moved all over her face. She refused to let him kiss her, causing him to call her a horrible word. He pushed himself against her. Time was running out. Her fingers grabbed wildly on the desk, finally finding something sharp. A letter opener. She grabbed it without thinking and slashed at him. The element of surprise was on her side. Her aim was off, but she still managed to slice his ear. His blood dripped over her hand just as he cried out and moved slightly away, his focus on his injury. She pushed him farther and ran to the door. Opening it, she flew from the office and didn’t stop until she was halfway home. What had she done? He was bound to report her and then what would happen to her family? She picked up her skirts and fled home, back to the tenement building.
Chapter 2
“Bridget, what happened? Kathleen came home and went to bed without a word,” Bridget’s eldest sister, Maura, said.
Bridget didn’t stop as she stepped inside their room in the tenement. She didn’t even close the door behind her in her usual attempt to block out the disgusting stench.
“Maura, pack up everything,” she said, fighting to remain calm. “We have to get out of here now.”
“But why? Where will we go?” Maura whined.
“I don’t know, but the police will be here soon. They will put the children in the asylum and…. Oh Maura, I’ll tell you later but please get ready. We don’t have much time.” Bridget saw Kathleen get out of bed and dress quickly. She sent her white-faced sister out to find Liam and Annie.
“Where will we go?” Maura repeated, standing still as if they had all the time in the world. “This is our home.”
Bridget glanced around the windowless room that had sheltered them for the last three years ever since daddy had lost his job on the railways. Kathleen had covered the biggest cracks with newspaper in an effort to make the hovel homelier. The newspapers didn’t keep out any of the sounds around them. The rat’s claws scraping against the plaster, their high-pitched squeaks as they fought each other for dominance. She didn’t know which was worse, the noise of the rats, the drunken neighbors singing bawdy sounds, or the noisy lovemaking that seemed to follow.
It was impossible to know how many people lived in these tenements. The multistory brick building had been built years before for far grander purposes and certainly wasn’t designed to hold so many immigrants. Now, each room was tenanted, sometimes by more than one family. Bridget knew they had been lucky not being forced to share their room with strangers.
Lucky? If daddy hadn’t fallen foul of the landlord, wrongly accused of a crime, their lives would have been so much better in Ireland. They had been poor but happy. The air had been fresh and there was more room to move around. If she closed her eyes, she could see her mam spinning wool in the evening, exchanging a warm smile with their daddy sitting by the fire. Bridget’s mam had been a powerhouse of energy, by day working as a seamstress in the big house, and in her spare time, she had raised chickens, selling the eggs at the local store. Sometimes she sold cheese and brown bread at the market. Now Mam and Daddy were dead and all they had left was each other.
Bridget reined in her impatience with her sister. Maura was the eldest, but she was behaving worse than Annie, her four-year-old sister.
Thankfully, Bridget had thought about where they should go on her run back home. They would go to Father Nelson at the church. He would help them. He had to. He’d believe she was only protecting herself, wouldn’t he? He wasn’t like the previous priest. He was different. She had to take a chance on him. It was their only option. They certainly couldn’t stay here, just waiting to be picked up.
“Where are Michael and Shane?” she asked her sister.
“Out, as always.” Maura’s resigned reply spoke volumes as she poked at the fire. Maura had started dinner, lighting a small fire on the paving stones in the corner of the room. The smoke made everyone’s eyes water, but it was the only way to cook the potatoes which were baking in the embers. Maura had done all the cooking since David had died. It was all she did. The boys ran wild but, in fairness, even David hadn’t managed to control the boys. They were old enough to fend for themselves, being fifteen and seventeen.
“We can’t wait for them. I’ll send Colm Fleming to find them and tell them not to come back here but to head straight for the church. Mrs. Fleming may use the room—we’ve paid for the next two weeks.” Bridget looked around the small room they used as a bedroom, kitchen, and everything else. If only she hadn’t met the rent collector last evening. She would have that money to tide them over. But she couldn’t live by “if only.” It raised more questions than it answered.
“Oh Bridget, I can’t believe this. David was so sure things were turning around for us and now it’s all gone wrong. I just can’t do it, I can’t…”
Bridget watched in horror as her elder sister descended into a fit of screaming.
She slapped Maura hard on the face. “Pull yourself together. You are the eldest, not me. Mam depended on us to protect the young ones.”
Maura stared at her resentfully, but she didn’t say a word. Instead she took the potatoes out of the fire and threw clay on the embers to put it out.
Bridget packed up their pitiful belongings and, within fifteen minutes of Bridget coming home, the room was empty. Kathleen came back with the younger children, all remained tight-lipped as they looked from Bridget and Maura to the bags at their feet.
“We have to go see Father Nelson about a new home. It’s time for a change,” Bridget said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. She didn’t want to scare the young ’uns.
“I like it here. Mrs. Fleming is nice to us. Why do we have to leave?” Liam asked, his hand in Annie’s. The little girl sucked her other thumb, her eyes wide with fear. Bridget’s heart clenched with hate for Mr. Oaks and his like. This was the only home the children remembered and now they were losing that too.
“Don’t worry Liam. The next house will be nicer. I promise.” She crossed her fingers hoping she would be proved right. Looking over the child’s head at the dirty, damp walls, it wouldn’t take much to find somewhere nicer to live.
Mrs. Fleming wished them well, hugging all of them as she dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Don’t you worry about nothing, darlings. I will tell them fellas you went to family in Jersey. By the time they chase after that goose, you will have flown. May God have mercy on their souls as straight to the devil they will go for preying on such lovely girls as youse. Thank God your poor mam is dead and buried.”
They trudged through the streets. Nobody commented on their sorry little procession, too wrapped up in their own survival.
Father Nelson was in the church when they arrived. Bridget told him the full story of what had happened, watching his facial expressions closely. At one point he looked so furious she took a step back from him.
“Bridget Collins,” he said. “Never be afraid of standing up for yourself. You are not to blame. If I wasn’t a man of God, I would…well, the least said about that the better. Let’s go and see what my lovely housekeeper can rustle up for you. A full belly will make you all feel better.”
“Father, what if the police come here?”
“You let me worry about that, young Bridget. I have some very good friends on the force myself. The man you are running from isn’t the only one with connections. Come on, child, take that look off your face. You are all safe here.”
Bridget wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. She knew how it worked. The rich always won.
But her younger siblings didn’t need to know how she felt. She forced a smile on her face and gathered them together as they followed the priest into his house. His housekeeper’s reception wasn’t as warm.
She stared at them. Looking through her eyes, Bridget could see the reason for her distaste. They were all filthy, and the younger one’s heads were crawling. But what could they do? There was no running water in the hovel they called home, never mind soap. Bridget pushed her hair back. They had done their best.
“Mrs. Riordan, these poor children are running from evil. They need our help. A decent meal followed by a hot bath and a good scrub is what’s in order. You provide the meal and we will look after everything else later.”
“Yes, Father Nelson.”
“Now, I need to go out. I shall return shortly. Bridget, could you come with me please?”
Torn between wanting to stay with her siblings and doing what the priest asked, Bridget hesitated. Maura wasn’t being particularly helpful, but even she wouldn’t let any harm come to the children. Would she? Father Nelson misinterpreted her reluctance to go with him. He assumed she was hungry.
“Have some food first and then we will go together. Your family will be safe here. Mrs. Riordan may not smile much but sure the woman has a heart of gold,” Father Nelson whispered. Bridget looked at the housekeeper and hoped he was right.
Maybe the lady was someone who found it hard to show her feelings.
Chapter 3
Lily had just finished her dinner when she heard a knock on the door.
“Mrs. Doherty. Father Nelson and a young woman are here to see you,” Peters, her butler, informed her.
“Send them in, Peters, and ask Cook to make some tea. You know how Father Nelson likes her baking.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Lily smiled at Peters. Despite the fact that he knew her story, he insisted on treating her like gentry. He’d told her she was the reason he was still alive. When they had first met, during the aftermath of the blizzard, he had nothing to live for. His family were long gone, and he’d lost his job. She’d offered him a position as soon as he recovered his health. His friend, Mary, was taken on as the cook. Both lived in the servant’s quarters and worked their hardest to keep Lily and her husband comfortable. They were so loyal, you would often find both of them lending a hand at the sanctuary on their days off. Peter helped to amuse the children while Mary helped Cook prepare meals for the people sheltering there.
“Father Nelson, how nice to see you,” Lily greeted. “But on such a terrible night. You’re both soaked through. Come in and warm yourselves by the fire. Peters has gone for some tea and some of Cook’s baking.”
“Words to warm the cockles of my heart, Lily darling,” Father Nelson said, beaming. “This lovely young woman is a friend of mine. Bridget Collins meet Lily Doherty.”
Lily shook Bridget’s hand, but what she really wanted to do was give the poor girl a hug and wipe the desperation and fear from her eyes.
“Come in please. I’m afraid Charlie has to work this evening, but he may come down later. They have a rather big case on their hands.”
“Charlie is Lily’s lovely husband. He works for Harrington Law & Investigative Services,” Father Nelson explained to Bridget.
Lily glanced at Bridget again. The poor girl looked as if she would fall over.
“Can I offer you something more substantial than tea? Cook made some wonderful soup earlier.”
“No thank you, Lily. We ate before we came out,” Father Nelson explained. “Bridget, you can trust Lily one hundred percent. She will help you. I promise that.”
“In any way I can, Bridget,” Lily confirmed.
“Bridget had a very unpleasant experience today. It seems the son of her boss tried to take advantage of her. It wasn’t the first time, but today he pushed her too far. In self-defense, she struck him with a letter opener. He may have been injured as she thinks she drew blood. He had already fired her sister and threatened her brothers with the law. Wisely, she gathered up her younger siblings and brought them to the church.”
“Oh, your poor girl. What an ordeal. Who did you work for?”
“Mr. Oaks, ma’am,” Bridget answered.
“Call me Lily, please. I have heard of Mr. Oaks. He is known for being a hard taskmaster, but I never heard rumors of him chasing his staff.”
“It’s the son ma’am—I mean, Lily. He tried this before, not just with me. My friend, well, she was a good bit older than me. Used to look after us kids when we were younger, and Mam was working. Her name was Mary Rourke.”
Lily looked to the priest as the name rang bells.
“Yes, it’s the girl we found in the Hudson shortly after I moved to this Parish. She was in the family way. Her parents put her out on the street. Father Donnelly condemned her. The poor child believed she had no alternative.”
Lily tried to stamp on the revulsion and anger she felt toward Father Donnelly, the Priest who had used his position to abuse the poor he was supposed to look after. It would do Bridget no good at all to discuss that sad time. She took Bridget’s hands in hers and could feel her shaking.
“Listen to me Bridget. You are safe, and nobody is going to hurt you. We will help. Tell me about your family.”
“I have three brothers and three sisters, well that’s what’s left of us. Maura is twenty two, I am nineteen, Michael is seventeen, Kathleen’s sixteen and Shane is fifteen. The two youngest are six and four, Liam and Annie. Michael and Shane are almost grown men, and have fallen in with a bad crowd, but they are old enough to fend for themselves. I have tried speaking to them but it’s hard to argue for goodness if it brings hunger when the bad ways of the gangs give them a chance.”
Lily listened, her heart aching for the boys even as Bridget described them. They had little choice, really. At their age, without jobs, it was only a matter of time before the gangs would get a hold of them.
“Da died in an accident on the tracks three years ago. Mam died soon after, the loss of da and the baby was too much for her.”
“Oh Bridget, I am so sorry.”
“It’s the little ones I worry for most. Annie is only four and Liam, God love him, acts like a man, but he’s only six. I fear if they stay in New York, they will end up in the asylum or worse. Maura, my eldest sister, lost both her fiancé and her job in the explosion at Wentworth’s iron forge last week and my sister Kathleen and I both worked for Mr. Oaks. We have nowhere to turn.”
“You have us Bridget. You and your sisters can work for me at the Sanctuary. We have positions for skilled seamstresses. Maura can look after the younger children along with some other orphans currently lodging at the sanctuary. We usually don’t have children living there but these are unusual times.” Lily didn’t explain what she meant by that statement. She wasn’t about to mention they were gathering some children to send on the orphan train. That would only scare Bridget. “Father Nelson may be able to reach out to your brothers. You can live at the sanctuary for now. I am sure Mrs. Riordan will be relieved to hear that.” Lily could only imagine what the priest’s housekeeper was making of the situation. She was the least likely person who should be employed by Father Nelson, but maybe it was her unpleasant nature that kept her in the position. Father Nelson would be inundated with requests for help otherwise. Like Lily, he was only able to do so much, and the needs of the community were overpowering. She couldn’t help everyone, but she was definitely going to help this poor young woman. Mr. Oaks junior had met his match.
Chapter 4
Bridget looked at the woman wondering if she were some sort of angel. She had just offered Bridget a job as well as a home within five minutes of meeting her. She pinched her arm, but she didn’t wake up.
“Ah, here is Peters with the tea,” Lily said. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable? I will send the carriage around to Mrs. Riordan to collect your family.”
Bridget sat on the very edge of the sofa, worried she would dirty it. She couldn’t help but admire her surroundings. It was evident Lily was comfortable. The walls were papered, not painted, and the tea service appeared to be real china. Just like Lady Danbury’s set. Her mind flew back to Galway whe
n Maura had taken her up to see their Mam who worked as a seamstress in the big house. The cook had given them some biscuits and a glass of milk each. A maid had been washing up the china when they called and had let Bridget hold one cup. She blinked away the memories. She had to focus on the future now.
“Thank you, ma’am—I mean, Lily.”
“Now Bridget, you can relax and taste some of Cook’s fine cakes. They will melt on your tongue. Mary is the finest cook this side of the Hudson.” Father Nelson almost licked his lips.
“Father Nelson is easy to please,” Lily said. “Bake him a cake and he will do anything for you.”
Bridget’s mouth fell open as Lily teased the priest, but he didn’t take offense. Instead, he laughed along.
“So, from what you said, Maura is in mourning. Is she capable of helping to look after the younger children do you think?” Lily asked.
Was she? Lily had no idea, but she wasn’t about to admit it. In her world, people didn’t have time to stop and mourn a death. She nodded. Maura would help, if she didn’t Bridget would kill her, but talking about killing her sister was probably not wise given the circumstances.
“She isn’t much of a seamstress,” Bridget said. “She did the office work in the iron works. Mam insisted on Maura staying at school as long as she could. She is good with her writing and her math.”
“Oh, how interesting. Usually the women we see are brought up to get married and have families,” Lily commented.
“Yes, Mam was determined education was a key to a better future. I am glad she isn’t here to see what a mess we have made of things,” Bridget said.
“Stop that now. There is no sense in blaming yourself. You can’t help the way things turned out no more than you can help the evil urges Master Oaks suffers from. Now finish your tea.”
“Yes ma’am—I mean, Lily.”
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