Murder on Sisters' Row gm-13

by Victoria Thompson

  “I’m so glad you could come, Mrs. Brandt,” she said. Her lips curved upward without really forming a smile in the odd way Sarah had noted before. “I’ll announce you.”

  She went to a door on the side of the room and knocked, then opened it and told someone Sarah had arrived. She turned back to Sarah and said, “Mrs. Van Orner will see you now.”

  She stepped aside so Sarah could enter the adjoining office, and then she closed the door behind Sarah. Mrs. Van Orner had risen from her chair and came around from behind her desk to greet her. Sarah caught a whiff of something clean and minty. Mrs. Van Orner offered her hand, and Sarah took it.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Brandt. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Mrs. Van Orner was nearing forty, but she was still a lovely woman and had maintained her youthful figure. She wore a blue serge walking skirt and a matching bolero jacket over a fashionable Gibson girl shirtwaist, but her light brown hair had been pulled into a simple bun. Her hand was smooth, befitting her status in life as the wife of a wealthy man. The line of her jaw had just begun to soften with age, but grief had carved deep lines into the otherwise fine skin of her face. She had known disappointment in her life. Even wealth could not prevent that, as Sarah knew.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Sarah said when she’d taken a seat in one of the straight-backed chairs that had been placed in front of Mrs. Van Orner’s desk. This room was also simply furnished. A plain wooden cross hung on the wall behind Mrs. Van Orner, the only decoration. The desk and chairs had probably been purchased new but were cheaply made. Mrs. Van Orner wasted nothing on appearances.

  Mrs. Van Orner sat down behind her desk again. “Tamar—Miss Yingling—told me about the young woman whose baby you delivered. She’s in one of the houses on Sisters’ Row, I believe?”

  “That’s right. I had no idea where I was going that day. I thought it was a boardinghouse.”

  “So Miss Yingling said. I’m surprised you stayed once you realized the truth.”

  Did Mrs. Van Orner disapprove? Sarah thought perhaps she did, but she didn’t particularly care. “I’m a midwife, Mrs. Van Orner. I couldn’t leave until I knew the young woman and her baby were all right.”

  “That’s commendable,” she said, although she didn’t sound as if she really thought so. She’d reached into a desk drawer and she drew out a small tin. “Would you like a peppermint?” She removed the lid and offered the tin to Sarah, who took one.

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Van Orner popped one in her mouth and replaced the lid on the tin. Sarah thought she must suffer from digestive troubles.

  “How did this young woman know to send you to me?” Mrs. Van Orner asked.

  “She said the other women who work in the house talk about you all the time, about how you rescue girls from brothels.”

  “I wish we did,” she said with a sigh, “but we seldom have an opportunity to do so. The women are watched so closely, it’s difficult for them to ask for help, and it’s even more difficult for us to get inside, so we mostly work with streetwalkers. They may have a man who protects them, but it’s still much easier to approach them and get them to safety than to break into a brothel.”

  “How will you get into this house?”

  “We’ll figure out a plan. We’ll probably go in the morning, when everyone is still sleeping, and catch them by surprise. We’ll have to have a carriage waiting to take the girl away, I suppose.”

  “Yes, she won’t be able to walk very far. What about the other women in the house?”

  “What about them?”

  “Will you rescue them, too?”

  Mrs. Van Orner folded her hands on the desktop and leaned forward slightly, her expression solemn as she stared right into Sarah’s eyes. “Mrs. Brandt, this is very difficult work, made more so by the fact that few of the women in these places truly want to be rescued.”

  “I can’t believe that!”

  “I couldn’t believe it either, when I first started. I assumed that all of them longed to live respectable lives and would gratefully accept my help to free them from their bondage. What I have learned, however, is that even those who do accept my help in escaping will very often return to their lives of shame. They find they prefer that to earning their bread through honest labor.”

  “But Miss Yingling said you have a house where they can stay,” Sarah remembered.

  “We do, but we can’t keep them forever. Gratuitous charity works evil rather than good, you see. If we continue to support these women, they will learn the dreadful lesson that it’s easy to get a day’s living without working for it.”

  Sarah didn’t know where to begin to argue with that philosophy. “What about a woman like Amy, who has a baby? Surely, you can’t expect her to go out and earn her living.”

  “The Salvation Army has a crèche where women can leave their children while they work. We wouldn’t expect her to go to work immediately, of course, but eventually she would have to. You earn your own living, do you not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You do have advantages these women do not, however,” Mrs. Van Orner continued. “You could have returned to your parents’ house when you were widowed. You might even eventually remarry and have a husband to support you. If these women do have families—and they usually do not—the families don’t want them back. And I assure you, Mrs. Brandt, there are few men in the world who would knowingly marry a woman who has been a prostitute.”

  She was right, of course, as difficult as it was to accept. “But you will try to rescue Amy.”

  “Of course. This is a wonderful opportunity. Her story would bring all sorts of attention to the cause.”

  Sarah would have preferred her to want to rescue Amy for the girl’s sake, but she would take what she could get. “What can I do to help?”

  “As I said, we have to make a plan. First we’ll have to decide when the girl can safely be moved.”

  “I’ve arranged with Mrs. Walker, the madam, to take the baby next Tuesday.”

  “She’s going to let you have the child?” Mrs. Van Orner asked in surprise.

  “Yes, I made a nuisance of myself until she agreed. Amy was terrified that they would take the baby and she’d never see him again, so I wanted to be able to keep him safe.”

  Mrs. Van Orner seemed to be seeing Sarah in an entirely new light. “That was very clever of you.”

  “I don’t feel very clever. I feel helpless.”

  “You won’t feel helpless when this is over, Mrs. Brandt. You are going to be of tremendous assistance to us. You will need to meet with the people who work with me and tell them everything you remember about the house and the people in it.”

  “I’ll be happy to do that. When can we meet?”

  “Would you be available on Monday?”

  “I’ll make a point of it.”

  “I’ll gather my associates, and we’ll meet here at ten o’clock. That will give us adequate time to arrange for the carriage and whatever else we will need.”

  “Is this going to be dangerous?”

  “Extremely.”

  Sarah looked at Mrs. Van Orner and wondered what had motivated her to take up such a mission. “I must admit, I admire you very much.”

  “Please don’t. We all do our duty. ‘Faith without works is dead,’ ” she added, quoting a scripture verse.

  “Yes, but a woman of your position in life could be considered a ‘faithful servant’ by just rolling bandages for a leper colony or filling barrels of old clothes for foreign missionaries.”

  “A woman of your position could do the same, yet you’ve chosen to be a midwife.”

  Sarah had to smile. “You’re right. I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “There’s no need to think of it at all. I do what I must. Don’t admire me for it, Mrs. Brandt. It is my cross to bear.”

  SARAH WAS STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT MRS. VAN Orner had meant by that odd comment as she walked
to the United Charities Building on Monday morning. She’d been worried that a birth might prevent her from keeping the appointment, but she’d delivered a baby on Saturday and found herself free when the time came.

  Several people were already at the Rahab’s Daughters’ office when Sarah entered. A tall, muscular gentleman and a shorter, plump man appeared to be in their thirties. The taller man wore a tailor-made suit and had the well-tended look of the very rich. She’d known no other type of men when she was growing up. The other man seemed less affluent, but perhaps that was just because his suit was rumpled and his hair a little disheveled. A lady, dressed in a deceptively simple but hideously expensive gown and a hat with a large white bird perched on it, had been chatting with them, but they all stopped and turned to her as she closed the office door. Miss Yingling, Sarah noticed, sat behind her desk, apparently absorbed in some papers lying on its top.

  “You must be Mrs. Brandt,” the lady said. “I’m Mrs. Spratt-Williams. This is Mr. Porter.” She indicated the tall man. “And Mr. Quimby.”

  Both gentlemen bowed.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Sarah said.

  Miss Yingling rose from her chair and went to the door of Mrs. Van Orner’s office. She tapped lightly, then opened it. “Mrs. Brandt is here.” She turned to the people gathered in the outer office. “Please go in.”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams went ahead, and Sarah followed. The two men came up behind, and Miss Yingling also came in and closed the door. Someone had gathered additional chairs and placed them in a semicircle around the desk.

  As everyone took a seat, Mrs. Van Orner greeted them and thanked them for coming. Miss Yingling, Sarah noticed, pulled her chair slightly away from the desk. She sat down and balanced a small notebook on her knee, apparently prepared to take notes of some kind.

  “Mrs. Brandt, have you met everyone?”

  Sarah could smell the peppermint on her breath. “Yes, I have.”

  “Then let’s begin by asking you to tell your story once again, so Mrs. Spratt-Williams and the gentlemen know the situation.”

  Sarah started at the beginning, when Jake had come to fetch her. Mrs. Van Orner and the others stopped her occasionally to ask a clarifying question. They wanted to know every detail, including her impressions of each of the people she had encountered at the house. Mrs. Van Orner produced paper and a pencil and asked Sarah to sketch out the floor plan of the house showing the location of outside doors, Amy’s room, and Mrs. Walker’s office.

  When she was finally finished and had answered all of their questions, Sarah sat back and studied the faces of each person gathered around the desk. Miss Yingling continued to scribble in her notebook. The others exchanged glances, silently communicating as good friends often do.

  After a long moment, Mrs. Van Orner said, “I believe this Jake person will present the greatest obstacle.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Porter agreed. “If we can get rid of him, we shouldn’t have too much difficulty.”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams turned to Sarah. “You’re going to get the baby tomorrow, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Spratt-Williams turned back to Mrs. Van Orner. “She could ask this Jake to drive her home in the carriage. She’ll be carrying the baby, so this would seem like a logical request.”

  “I wasn’t going to take the baby to my home,” Sarah said. “There’s a mission on—”

  “Your destination doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Van Orner said, “so long as you make sure he takes you in the carriage and is gone at least an hour.”

  “That’s an excellent plan. As soon as they are out of sight, we can act,” Mr. Porter said.

  “I’m sure the cook, Beulah, will offer resistance,” Sarah said.

  “I’ll go to the front door and ring the bell, the way I did the last time we tried a rescue,” Mr. Quimby said. “She’ll go to answer it, and while she’s doing that, Mr. Porter and Mrs. Van Orner will enter through the back door and go up the stairs to Amy’s room.”

  “What shall I do?” Mrs. Spratt-Williams asked almost eagerly.

  “You’ll wait in the carriage and be ready to cause a distraction if anyone takes notice of what we’re doing,” Mrs. Van Orner said.

  This assignment didn’t please Mrs. Spratt-Williams. “But I could help you in the house. If some of the other women wake up—”

  “You’ll be a tremendous help to us out in the carriage, Tonya,” Mrs. Van Orner said a little too sharply. She saw Mrs. Spratt-Williams’s hand tighten into a fist, the only outward sign of her true reaction.

  “What about the other women in the house?” Sarah asked quickly to distract them.

  “We’ll go early in the morning, while the household is still asleep,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said. “If all goes well, they may never know we were there.”

  “I mean, what if some of them want to be rescued, too?”

  Sarah felt their resistance to this like a physical force. They exchanged glances again, their expressions grim.

  Mrs. Van Orner cleared her throat. “Then they will have to make themselves known to us.”

  “But if they’re asleep and they don’t even know you’re coming or why you’re there—”

  “Mrs. Brandt,” Mr. Porter said kindly, “the truth is that it’s unlikely any of these women will want to be rescued, even if they know why we have come.”

  “And they’re very likely to stop us from taking Amy if they have the chance,” Mr. Quimby said. “The last time we attempted a rescue in a brothel, the women themselves drove us away before we could locate the one we’d come for.”

  “Good heavens!”

  “So you see,” Mrs. Van Orner said, “if we hope to rescue this Amy, we can’t risk alarming the other women or we may not even be able to get her out.”

  “I know it’s disappointing,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams said, reaching over to pat Sarah’s hand. She’d obviously forgotten her own earlier frustration. “We’d like to save them all, but we must be content to do what we can.”

  Sarah knew that feeling only too well from her volunteer work at the Daughters of Hope Mission. “Shall I tell Amy you’re coming when I get the baby?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mrs. Van Orner said. “She might say or do something to give it away.”

  “They may not even allow you to see her again, in any case,” Mrs. Spratt-Williams added. “They might be afraid she’ll get hysterical if she sees you taking the baby away.”

  “You must be prepared for anything,” Mr. Porter added. “One never knows how these people will behave. They might not give you the baby after all, or the girl might change her mind at the last minute and refuse to go at all.”

  Mr. Quimby nodded vigorously. “Yes, indeed, we’ve seen that happen, haven’t we?”

  Sarah gazed at them in dismay. “Then I suppose I should ask what I should do if Jake won’t take me in the carriage?”

  “You should do nothing,” Mrs. Van Orner said. “Simply take the baby away, if they do give him to you. Let us worry about Jake.”

  SARAH FELT DISTRACTED AND IRRITABLE THE REST OF the day. Even spending time with Catherine and Maeve couldn’t keep her mind off what was going to happen the next morning. Maeve asked her several times if she was all right, and she’d lied and said yes, she was fine. She went to bed early, wanting to get a good night’s sleep, and then lay awake most of the night, too tense to rest.

  “What’s going on?” Maeve asked her after breakfast, when Catherine had gone upstairs to play.

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Well, I am worried, and whatever it is can’t be worse than I’m imagining, so just tell me so I’ll know!”

  “I’m so sorry! I was just trying to spare you, but I see I’ve done just the opposite. I’m going to a brothel this morning to take the baby I delivered last week from his mother.”

  Maeve’s mouth dropped open. “Dear heaven! What were you doing delivering a baby in a brothel? And why a
re you taking it away?”

  Sarah quickly explained what had happened and how Mrs. Van Orner and her friends were going to help Amy escape.

  “Does Mr. Malloy know about this?” Maeve asked with a frown.

  Sarah hated the heat that rose in her face. “Of course not, and he won’t ever hear about it either.”

  “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

  “Not for me. The madam expects me to come and take the baby this morning. I’ll be perfectly safe, and nothing else is going to happen until after I’m gone.”

  “Will you bring the baby here?”

  “No, I don’t want you and Catherine involved in this at all. I’ll take him to the Mission, but only for a few hours. Mrs. Van Orner has a house in the city where these women can stay, and as soon as Amy is safely there, I’ll take the baby to her.”

  “You’d better get him away faster than that. Jake will know where the baby is because he took you there, and they’ll probably try to get the baby to force Amy to go back to the brothel.”

  “Oh, my, I never thought of that.”

  Maeve gave her a pitying glance. “Of course you didn’t, because you’re a good person. As soon as Jake drops you off, you need to go right back out again. Go straight to this house where they’re taking the girl. That’s the safest thing.”

  “You’re right. I’ll do that.”

  “And don’t say a word to Amy about them coming to get her. She’ll never be able to keep it a secret. She’s probably told half the girls in the house already anyway.”

  “They warned me not to tell her, but how can I just leave her there without any hope?”

  “It’s only for a little while. Better she doesn’t have any hope than Catherine doesn’t have any mother.”

  Sarah scowled at her, but Maeve ignored it.

  “You know I’m right.”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you, Maeve, for giving me very good advice.”

  Maeve rolled her eyes. “Just be sure you take it.”

  SARAH WALKED ALL THE WAY TO SISTERS’ ROW, HOPING the exercise would help her burn off some of the tension she’d been feeling all night. By the time she reached the house on Twenty-fifth Street, she felt calm enough to carry out her mission. At least she hoped she was.