“Come on, Annette.” Evelyn reached for her arms. “Let’s get you to the mansion. Your brother’s worried about you.”
“I can’t go anywhere right now.” She pushed herself into the corner, away from Evelyn’s arms.
“Why not?” Looking around at the spiders and trash in the corners of the shack, there was absolutely no reason to stay here longer than it took to walk out.
“I can’t let no one know I’m pregnant.”
Evelyn frowned at her. “You’re not pregnant anymore.”
“Well, no, but I’m going to have to wait until my body looks normal again before I step outside. But here . . .” She wrapped the ragged red blanket around the baby and shoved the infant into Evelyn’s arms. “Take her away.”
“But the baby needs you, Annette.”
“No, she don’t. If Daniel Fish finds out I got a baby, he’ll know I ain’t no virgin flower, and then he ain’t going to take me back as just a cleaning girl.”
Evelyn looked at the poor babe who’d yet to cry again. “So this baby isn’t . . .”
“Well, she certainly ain’t going to be claimed by no man, but she ain’t because I sold myself.”
Mr. Parker’s mumbling behind them clearly indicated the exact origins of this little one would make little difference in the opinion of good society.
Evelyn looked down at the babe’s gaunt cheeks, her eyes a little sunken in. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble the last time you visited Lawrence?”
She shook her head with little energy. “You can’t fix everything. I thought you’d have him adopted out already. Then I’d have followed him to make sure he got into a good family. I’ve heard too many girls telling about the terrible homes they got put in. I knew you were his best chance at getting a good one, but I had to be sure. But you took too long. I couldn’t be found in my condition without Mr. Fish realizing I’m older than he thought and locking me up to work. I had to be able to check on Lawrence.”
“Come with me and you won’t have to face Mr. Fish at all.” She’d have to ask Nicholas who Mr. Fish was. His wasn’t a name she recognized.
“No, you take the baby and get her into a good home. Just don’t tell Lawrence she’s his niece. All right?” Tears were streaming soundlessly down her face. “I don’t want him thinking bad of me.”
Evelyn followed Annette’s gaze to the child, whose movements were lethargic. She couldn’t imagine giving up a child, no matter how it was conceived. But she’d never cared for a baby this young at the mansion. Although the babies were usually adopted fairly quickly, they took a lot of time to care for.
As much as she wanted to mother this frail bundle, maybe this child was God’s gift to Annette, to convince her to abandon the life she was living. “Annette, this baby needs you.”
“She doesn’t need me.” Annette hugged herself and then turned toward the corner. “I’ll come visit Lawrence soon, but don’t tell him, in case I can’t. I’ll only come if you keep the baby out of my sight.”
Clearly this girl was far from ready for motherhood, but if she was in better living conditions and given some medical help, surely she’d realize things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed.
Except her gaze looked so far from the here and now. Did Annette even understand what she was doing?
Evelyn held the bundle tighter and kneeled beside Annette. “What did you name her?”
“I didn’t. You name her.”
Tears warmed Evelyn’s eyes. A baby to name? Did she even remember any of the names she used to keep in the back of her diary for future children? “No matter what has happened, Annette, God loves you. He’s given you the joy of this child. Don’t give up on her.”
Annette only put her hands over her ears.
Rosie’s hand clamped onto Evelyn’s shoulder. “I think it might be best if you take the babe, Miss Wisely. It’s real good of you to think Annette here can be a good mother and all, but even those of us who keep our children, well, we aren’t exactly fit mothers, you know. But if she ain’t wantin’ it . . .”
“All right.” As Annette curled up on the floor, Evelyn stood and swallowed hard before turning to Rosie. “Have you any food here?”
“That’s what I been takin’ care of. She’s just days away from starving—almost think that’s what she was trying to do to herself—but I keep insistin’.”
“Good.” She frowned down at Annette one last time. “I’ll make sure your brother and baby get into a good family, all right?”
The girl nodded but didn’t turn around to take another look at her child.
Mr. Parker held open the door, and Evelyn stepped out of the hovel, from darkness into light. The sun, low on the horizon, made her blink. She didn’t know why Annette was unwilling to get out of a life she clearly had no love for, but there was hope for this little one to never be under the red-light district’s influence.
This baby had hope—was Hope.
“Let’s go.” Mr. Parker put a hand to her shoulder. “You’ve got children to take care of.”
22
After wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks, David knocked on the nondescript door. A door like any other, yet he’d never thought he’d knock on one like this.
“Come in,” the female voice called, sultry enough to make his heart pound.
He shut his eyes and turned the knob with the same amount of reluctance he’d had when Mrs. Rice had forced him to eat liver when he was five. He’d seen Evelyn walk into a prostitute’s room without any hesitation the first day they’d met. She’d walked in; she’d walked out. He could do the same, since this was the only way the tavern owner’s wife would let him see Irish Mary, no matter how much he insisted he only needed to talk to her for a few minutes. And after watching the saloon for a few nights, it was evident these ladies were never allowed out.
“Well hello, stranger.” A thin blonde in a gown of iridescent green sat on a white duvet atop a bed that nearly filled the room. Her legs were crossed, one foot swinging. Her eyes flashed down him, quick and assessing. “Your first time?”
“Uh, yes,” he squeaked. “I mean, no. I mean, being in here, yes, but no to the other. Not that I’ve ever been with—” Ugh, he needed to stop before he humiliated himself or said the exact opposite of what he meant.
“Tongue-tied, eh?” She rose from the bed as if she were floating toward him.
He stood taller, as if preparing for an onslaught, and held out his hand. “I’m not here for what you think.”
Her index finger trailed down the side of his arm as she circled around to his back. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” Ugh, where had his brain gone? Why was she circling him? He turned to keep trouble within eyesight.
This woman looked nothing like he’d imagined. Miss O’Conner was stocky with curly brown hair, sharp green eyes, and—though decent enough to look at—she wasn’t striking. This woman’s blue eyes shone out from under thick lashes, her lips were a vivid red, and her cheeks were artificially pink, highlighting high cheekbones. Her body was not as curvy as Caroline’s, but with the long blond curls dangling down to her cinched-in waist, she sure flaunted the curves she had.
“I mean, I do want something. That is, if you’re Moira O’Conner. I want to talk.”
She stopped and her eyes turned hard. “I’m Irish Mary.”
“Right. I know that.”
“I don’t talk, mister.” She put her hand on his chest, where his heart beat in a panicked staccato, and slipped her fingers between the buttons on his shirt. “But you can talk if you want to.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled it off of him as he would a leech. “I only paid to come up here because the madam refused to let me see you any other way. You don’t venture out much.”
“Then why don’t you get your money’s worth?” She wiggled his tie loose.
Goodness, with all the talk the Lowes and Evelyn did about the plights of these women, he’d expected a trapped kitten,
not a hungry lioness. He grabbed her by the upper arms and held her as far away from him as he could. “Then if you’d like me to get my money’s worth, tell me about you and Henri Beauchamp.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t talk about clients.”
“I’m pretty sure he isn’t one of your clients.”
“Then I wouldn’t know him.”
“Don’t play dumb. I’ve already greased enough palms to know you’re Caroline O’Conner’s sister, your name is Moira, and you were involved with Henri Beauchamp before you took up this vocation.” He pulled out two dollars. “Maybe this will help. All I want to know is why he seems to hate you so much.”
Though she eyed the money for a second, she jerked her arms from his grip. “I don’t play the information game.” She glared at him, her dark eye makeup making her look more intimidating than any female who’d ever been upset with him before. Then she marched for the door.
He rushed after her, slapping his palm against the door the second she turned the knob. The door clicked right back into place. “I’m not asking for blackmail, just understanding. A friend of mine wants to start a ministry for women like you who want to escape—”
“I’m not looking to escape, mister.”
“It’s David. And I see that. But others do and I’m sure you know a few. Anyway, she wants a place for them to learn a respectable trade and find their way back into good society, but she needs businessmen to support her. Mr. Beauchamp seemed to be a good candidate until she started talking about you and your sister. Your name made Beauchamp almost bust his boiler, so I thought if you could clear things up with him, he might—”
“It’s not my place to clear anything up.”
“But think of the women who want out—”
“What happened between the three of us is up to Caroline to tell, if she so chooses, not me.”
“Miss O’Conner?” He rubbed his chin, trying to remember Henri’s response to Evelyn’s friend’s name. Had there been an emotional reaction he’d missed?
Irish Mary yanked on the door again, and he let his hand fall. She opened the door wide and turned her head toward the busy saloon floor below. “I don’t trade in secrets, mister.” Her voice projected out over the din. “It’s too easy to beat information out of people, and I like how I look. So get out.”
A few men from below glanced up with interest.
David couldn’t help his flaming face despite the fact that she’d made it quite clear he hadn’t gotten anything of any sort from her. “Good day, then, ma’am. I wish you well,” he mumbled.
She widened her eyes at that.
The fire in his cheeks needed a good dousing, and yet he seemed stuck in her doorway. The flash of confusion on her face stayed his retreat. Could God use him now? “I can’t help but believe, deep down inside, you might want a place to go if you could. But maybe you think you’re too far gone.”
She moved to step back inside, but he stopped her with a soft grip on her arm. “God redeems the lowest of the low, Moira. Murderers, adulterers, and prostitutes were all a part of Christ’s lineage. When He walked this earth, He supped with the crowd you’re involved in and offered forgiveness and a way out. He still offers that today.”
She only stared up at him, her eyes hardening—if that were possible. “Thank you for the sermon, preacher. Now get back to your church.”
He hesitated, but not even a glimmer of hunger for what he’d said shone in her eyes. He released her and stepped across her threshold. The door slammed immediately, hitting his heel.
Could that have gone any worse?
He tucked his hands into his pockets and strode across the wooden balcony. He evidently needed to talk to Caroline. He hadn’t asked her about Henri’s reaction to her sister’s name since he’d figured having a prostitute sister was burden enough.
Keeping his gaze on where he was going instead of glancing around the busy “soda fountain,” David left the Dutch Tulip as quickly as he could and set out across town. He really should think about leasing a horse. He’d not expected to be gallivanting about town so much, but ever since he’d gotten tangled up with Evelyn, it seemed he was doing more walking than he usually did in a year.
And tangled up was a good description for it. His heart sure was, anyway.
Crossing the familiar roads toward the orphanage, David chewed his inner cheek. He hadn’t paid much attention to Caroline, considering any time he ran across her she was with Evelyn. So how could he just walk up and prod her for what was likely a very personal story? Should he even do so? Would Evelyn be a better person to approach her? Maybe she already knew her story.
He started up the mansion’s winding driveway and took in the immaculate grounds. Near the side of the mansion, two maids were beating rugs on the clothesline, and unless there were two servants of the same build, the one on the left was Caroline.
Probably a good idea to skip going into the mansion altogether. Though his heart tugged at him to at least catch a glimpse of Evelyn, he wanted to have good news for her the next time he saw her.
He cleared his throat when he got within earshot of the women. The older one with gray hair and a slim figure turned around and frowned at him. Caroline whacked her rug a few times before taking a look at who’d arrived.
She wiped her dark curly hair off her forehead with the back of her dusty sleeve. “Mr. Kingsman? What can we do for you?”
He ran a hand around the back of his neck and glanced at the other lady. Caroline seemed to understand his hesitation and put down her beater. “Why don’t you tell me on the way in?” Caroline pulled her rug off the line.
“Let me do that.” He grabbed the rug, but she wouldn’t relinquish it.
“This is my job, Mr. Kingsman.”
“And I’m interrupting your work. I don’t mind carrying it.”
“If you must.” Caroline turned to her companion. “I’ll get the rugs from the music room.” She started for the servants’ entrance, and he followed.
He kept pace with her slow stride, the rug rolled up on his shoulder, bouncing with each step, but by the time they reached the door, he still hadn’t come up with a good way to ask his questions.
She opened the door and ushered him in. “I know you didn’t come to help me carry rugs. So what do you want?”
He dropped the rug onto the floor. “I don’t know how to ask this, so I guess I’ll just start. Your sister is Irish Mary, correct?”
“Yes.”
Seemed she didn’t find his knowing her sister was a prostitute to be strange.
“Well, last week, when I was helping Ev . . . Miss Wisely look for sponsors for her women’s home, she thought her best chance of getting help was from Mr. Beauchamp.”
Caroline’s expression turned suspicious.
“Evelyn attempted to persuade him by telling him about your sister’s story when he cut her off, vehemently so. I figured since the mere mention of your sister’s name touched a nerve, I might be able to figure out why and help him get over it. I wondered if maybe she was blackmailing him or cheated him somehow, but when I saw her today, she said you were the one I needed to talk to.”
“You actually went to see her?” Caroline looked incredulous.
“It was expensive, but yes, and . . .” He cleared his throat again. “She threw me out since I wasn’t there for her usual services. I know this is probably none of my business, but I thought maybe you could help Evelyn get Henri’s support.”
Caroline only stood there, staring at the rolled rug at their feet. After a minute, she huffed. “I don’t know if telling him anything will get you the sponsorship you want, but I’m done letting that man hang on to his hatred for no good reason.” She turned and headed back to the door. “Perhaps I should grab my beater wand from the clothesline before we go. Smacking him upside the head might work better than me telling him anything.”
David scurried after her. “That’s certainly an idea, but why don’t we try all the nonphys
ical ideas we can think of first?”
She snorted, but thankfully didn’t take a side trip to the clothesline, just hollered for the other maid to get the music room rugs herself.
When she headed for the front instead of the carriage house, he frowned. “I didn’t bring my factory’s wagon. Do you want to see if Mr. Parker—?”
“He’s not here. Besides, I walk farther than Elm Street almost every day. Are you wanting a ride?”
Even if he wanted one, he wasn’t about to say yes now. But he’d have to work to keep from sounding winded if she kept up this pace. “No.”
She nodded and marched forward, down the hill.
At least the weather was brisk and would keep them cool at the pace she set. She seemed intent on getting there as quickly as possible, and if the divot in her brow and the wriggling of her lips was any indication, she was preparing quite the lecture for Mr. Beauchamp.
He greeted the few people he recognized as Caroline led them across the tracks and into the industrial part of town.
At Elm and Ninth, in the shadow of the railcar repair shop, he decided he had to say something. “Um, perhaps I’m not needed? Moira seemed to act like this was a personal thing, and if—”
“I want you there. That way Henri can’t pretend he doesn’t know.”
Well, at least that was clear.
When they got to the flour mill, he raced up the stairs to open the door for her. Hopefully Henri was in the building, since Caroline seemed determined to attend to business immediately.
And hopefully he’d be able to escort her home with good news for Evelyn.
In the front office, Mr. Allen’s desk was empty.
David looked for a bell to ring, but Caroline skirted the desk and marched down the hall.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder.
“Wait a minute. I doubt barging in on him is a good idea. He might have an appointment.” He took a quick glance at the calendar on Mr. Allen’s desk, but since Caroline kept walking, he abandoned the search and hurried after her. “At least—”
She pounded on the door but didn’t wait for a reply before storming in.
A Love So True Page 17