by Rhys Bowen
I tried to be receptive and encouraging as she talked to me, as she had been a shy, reticent child until recently, but words were screaming in the recesses of my brain. Not Bridie’s words but Katy’s. Unless she had to leave in a real hurry. What would have made Maureen leave in such a hurry that she left her prized statue behind? Had someone turned up outside the front door? The young man she was hoping for, perhaps, saying, “Come with me now. I’ve a trap waiting and we can be far away before they find us?”
When I saw Katy again I must ask which of her things Maureen had actually taken with her. The hairbrush she could have overlooked in her haste. I’d left things behind before when I’d had to pack in a hurry. But the little statue—she’d have made sure she took that.
“Sorry, dear, what did you say?” I asked as Bridie’s words cut into my consciousness.
“You weren’t paying attention, Molly,” she said, giving me her best frown. “I was telling you that Jonah is going to teach me fishing and then I’ll catch fish for dinner. Right, Jonah?”
“That will be just grand,” I said. “Your daddy and brother would be proud of you.”
“They think I’m just a little kid and no use for anything,” she said.
“Then you’ll surprise them when they come home.”
There was a pause before she said quietly, “Do you think they’ll be home soon?”
“I really couldn’t say, sweetheart.” I stroked her hair. “I think it takes a long time to dig a canal across a continent.”
I heard the visible sigh of relief. “Because I want to stay with Mrs. Sullivan and you for a long, long time,” she said. “I want to go to a proper school and learn how to be a lady.”
“Of course you do, and you will.”
“I hope so,” she said and snuggled against me. I put an arm around her, and she fell asleep against me. I began to feel drowsy too until I was jolted awake by a most disturbing thought. Maybe Seth’s jokes had not been just idle chitchat but had some substance to them after all. What if the nuns had tried to force Maureen to take the veil and had locked her in a cell, from which she managed to escape and flee at the only time she could, while they were in chapel? That would explain why she had to leave behind her most precious possessions.
And I knew I could not let the matter lie. I had to find out what had happened to her some way or another.
Fifteen
When we got home I presented Mrs. Sullivan with the ribbon, the sugar, and the chicken. She nodded with satisfaction over the quality of the latter. “We’ll have that on Sunday then, shall we? Is there any chance Daniel might be able to come and join us?”
“I’ll write and ask him, if you like, but I doubt he’ll take time off when he has so much to do. From what I understand he’s trying to juggle several cases at once.”
She shook her head, making a tut-tutting noise. “If we’re not careful, he’ll be facing an early grave like my husband.”
“I think Daniel thrives on hard work,” I said. “I’ll write to him.”
“After you’ve had your lunch,” she said firmly. “It’s all laid out and ready in the dining room.”
The lunch was ham and salad, with newly baked rolls, followed by a plum tart and cream. I ate ravenously. I hadn’t realized how hungry my escapades had made me. Mrs. Sullivan looked on with approval. “That’s right. You’re eating for two now.”
Then she forced me upstairs to lie down. As soon as she had closed the door behind her I tiptoed to my writing case and took out paper and envelopes. Then I wrote my letters while lying on the bed. First I wrote a short note to Daniel saying that I’d had a pleasant excursion to the river, all was well and his mother hoped he could join us for lunch on Sunday. I added a postscript that I missed him. Then I wrote to Sid and Gus, describing the two inns (not the Green Gables or Sleepy Hollow, but The Lighthouse Inn and The Hideaway). I recommended The Lighthouse Inn as the upstairs rooms had a spectacular view across the Tappan Zee and it was not likely to be as noisy as the other, which was near the train station. In addition, the innkeeper seemed to be a pleasant woman, not too nosy and round enough to indicate that she was a good cook.
I smiled to myself. Soon I’d have my friends nearby and all would be right with the world. I suppose I should have been more excited at the prospect of my husband coming to Sunday luncheon and of course I wanted to see him, but he was not good company when he was overworked like this and would undoubtedly begrudge the time away from work. If he came at all, that was.
I sealed the envelopes, put on stamps, then crept downstairs to find Jonah. I found him easily enough, hard at work mending the outdoor pump, muttering to himself and using words a lady should never overhear. I backed away carefully and decided I could walk the letters to the nearest mailbox myself. It was a decision I regretted as soon as I reached the end of the lane leading into Elmsford. I hadn’t realized quite how hot the afternoon had become and every step became an effort. I had thought that the nearest mailbox was only a short walk away but the road seemed to stretch on forever. I wasn’t going to give up having come this far, but the sweat was running into my eyes by the time I pushed the letters through the slot and turned for home.
I hadn’t gone far when I was overcome by an attack of dizziness and had to sit on a tree stump in the shade. This was something I hadn’t experienced since the early days of my pregnancy and it alarmed me. I wasn’t the sort of woman who succumbed to an attack of the vapors! Grudgingly I had to admit that maybe my husband and mother-in-law were right and I should not be doing anything too strenuous. I had been rushing around all morning and should have taken a proper rest. Maybe this quest to find Maureen O’Byrne was too much for me.
I looked up as I heard the sound of a horse’s hooves coming from Elmsford at a brisk trot. A small black closed carriage approached. As I watched it I caught a glimpse of the person inside. It was a tall, gaunt, hooded figure in black and it resembled Sister Jerome, the harsh nun I had met earlier today. I watched the carriage pass with interest. Curious. If those nuns were an enclosed order, then didn’t that mean that they never left the convent? So what was one of them doing alone in a carriage, and a rather fine-looking carriage at that? And weren’t nuns always supposed to travel in pairs?
I got up and headed back to the house. There was something strange about that convent and the way that Sister Jerome had deliberately tried to put me off from looking for Maureen. Another thought crossed my mind—what if she hadn’t run away at all, but was still locked up, a prisoner of the nuns? And I knew I couldn’t let the matter rest. My curiosity and concern wouldn’t let me. I also realized that I had a perfect opportunity to do some snooping. Sid and Gus could invite me to stay on the river with them for a few days. And from there I could take the train up to Cortland to call upon Emily Robbins who, according to Katy, had been thick with Maureen. I could even go back to the convent on the pretext of interviewing Katy for future employment in my household.
I found a new spring in my step. I had the bit between my teeth now and nothing was going to stop me.
Two days later I received two letters. The first was from Sid and Gus, thanking me for my research and telling me that they had sent a wire to The Lighthouse Inn, booking themselves in from Friday onward and couldn’t wait to see me. The other letter was from Daniel. His mother was right. He had been working too hard for too long. He had decided to come up for Sunday lunch and maybe even to stay on for a couple of days.
“Oh, what wonderful news,” Mrs. Sullivan said as I read the letter out loud to her. “He obviously misses you terribly, my dear.”
I nodded. I knew I should be ecstatic that my husband missed me so much that he was coming all the way to Elmsford to see me, but the first thought I’d had was that I’d now have to wait until he left before I’d have a chance to visit Sid and Gus at The Lighthouse Inn. And who knows, they might have found life in Tarrytown too boring by then and flitted to pastures new. They rarely stayed in one spot for long and if the
y went I’d have no opportunity to carry on with my quest to find Maureen.
* * *
On Sunday morning the house was in a flurry of activity. First we all had to go to church at eight. I went along too, not because I wanted to, but because I knew that my lack of religion would distress my mother-in-law, who expected everyone to go to church. Then we had a hurried breakfast before Daniel’s mother had my things moved to her own bedroom so that he and I could have the big four-poster bed.
“We can’t turn you out of your room,” I protested.
“It’s only right that a married couple should have the one good bed in the house,” she insisted, and there was no budging her.
Daniel arrived about eleven. He came up the path slowly, as if every step was an effort, but his face lit up when he saw me.
“Well, look at you,” he said, bounding up the last two steps to me. “Positively blooming. The fresh air obviously agrees with you.”
He had to lean across my belly to give me a kiss.
“That’s more than I can say for you,” I responded. “You look awful. You’ve great bags under your eyes. I don’t believe you’ve slept properly since I left.”
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “We’ve all been working like crazy men, but I decided to back off for a while.”
“Is it still the anarchists that you’re working on?” I asked.
He gave me a warning frown as his mother came out of the kitchen and rushed to embrace him. “My poor boy,” she exclaimed. “Look at you. Worn to a frazzle. They are overworking you again. You’ll be for an early grave if you don’t quit.”
“Thanks, Mother. Nice to see you,” Daniel said, with a grin to me.
She slipped her arm through his. “I’ve sherry waiting for you in the parlor and then no doubt you can smell the chicken roasting in the oven for lunch. Your wife went into Tarrytown specially to get it from that good butcher.”
“Lovely. Thank you,” he said and allowed himself to be led through to the parlor, seated in the best armchair, and handed a glass of sherry. I sat opposite him.
“I’ll leave you two then,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I have to get back to the kitchen to supervise Martha.”
“Nonsense, Mother. Martha is quite capable of cooking a chicken by herself,” Daniel said. “She’s been doing it since I was a boy without spoiling it once. Now sit and have a sherry with us. You can tell me all the local gossip.”
Mrs. Sullivan sat reluctantly and poured herself a sherry. Then she launched into a description of the jam making, the tea party at Letitia Blackstone’s, and the trip to Irvington.
“Your wife went to visit an acquaintance while we were there,” she said. “A Mrs. Mainwaring. Is she a friend of yours too?”
Daniel looked across at me and frowned. “Mainwaring. I’ve heard the name, but I can’t place it. How do you know her, Molly?”
Ah. Now I was in a spot. “She was part of Sid and Gus’s Vassar circle,” I said, with the sure conviction that Daniel stayed well clear of them.
“Oh, another Vassar girl. Is she another of those awful suffragists?”
“Surely, Molly doesn’t mix with those dreadful women?” Mrs. Sullivan turned to glare at me.
“What’s so awful about wanting the right to vote?” I demanded. “How can it be right that half the country has no say in how we are governed?”
“But women have no experience outside the home,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “They are not equipped to make decisions of a political nature. It’s up to their husbands to guide them in such matters. I know I always trusted the opinion of Daniel’s father and would never have dreamed of crossing him.”
I saw Daniel give me a warning look.
“Times are changing,” I said. “Women are starting to work outside the home and they’ll want their say.”
“Let’s hope it’s not in my lifetime,” she said.
“So was this Mrs. Mainwaring another suffragist?” Daniel asked. “Was that why you visited her, to attend one of their meetings?”
“Not at all. It was simply a courtesy call, since I was in the area,” I said. “And as it turned out, I did not find her particularly pleasant or welcoming.”
“I pointed out to Molly that it was not wise to stop by unexpectedly in this heat when people do not look or feel their best,” Mrs. Sullivan said.
“And you were right,” I said, lowering my head in a demure fashion that made Daniel smile.
“Mainwaring,” he said again. “In Irvington? It’s beginning to ring a bell now. I believe he was at Princeton with Freddie Parsons. I think I met him at Freddie’s place a couple of times. Good-looking chap. Thought a lot of himself and his family connections, I seem to remember.”
“Which reminds me,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “We heard that Arabella Norton is now married and living in Philadelphia. They say she’s made a very good match indeed.”
“I’m glad for her,” Daniel said shortly.
I was glad when Bridie appeared to announce that the meal was served and we were able to leave the uncomfortable conversation. The chicken was delicious, the beans from the garden were perfect, and the meal was rounded off with a peach cobbler and coffee. Afterward Mrs. Sullivan suggested that I go to lie down.
“I’m not at all tired,” I said, “and I want to make the most of Daniel being here. I hardly ever get time to talk to him at home, so this is a treat.”
“We’ll take a little walk, shall we?” Daniel took my hand.
“I want to come too.” Bridie jumped down from her chair to join us. Mrs. Sullivan grabbed her arm to hold her back. “Let them be alone for a while, child,” she said. “Your turn will come later. Besides, I need help with clearing the table.”
Bridie gave a mournful look after us.
“Don’t let her go out without a parasol,” Mrs. Sullivan called after us. “She’ll get sunstroke.”
Daniel grinned as he handed me the parasol. An amused look passed between us as I took it and opened it. “I never thought I’d see the day when you went out with a parasol,” he muttered as we walked out onto the porch and then down the steps to the garden. “It’s quite the transformation.”
“You’d be amazed at how good I’m being,” I said. “Sweet, compliant, and only one step away from simpering.”
He laughed. “That will never happen to you. So you’re holding up all right under my mother’s ministrations? I must say you’re looking very well.”
“She treats me as if I’m made of fine china and might break,” I said, “I want to be helpful but she won’t let me do much. At least I’ve got Bridie here to keep me company. Hasn’t she grown up since she’s been with your mother?”
He nodded. “Far more outgoing and sure of herself. I told you Mother would never treat her as a servant, didn’t I? You watch, she’ll be scouting out potential suitors to make a good match for her before long.”
We walked silently over the soft grass.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “I lived alone for so many years, I thought of myself as completely self-sufficient. But now I’ve become used to finding you there when I come home. It feels so empty without you.”
“Do you want me to come home?” I asked cautiously.
“No, it’s better for you to stay out here until the temperature cools down,” he said. “You’re clearly being looked after well and it would be purely selfish of me to want you to give this up.”
“I will, if it makes you happy,” I said.
He squeezed my hand. “You’re a good woman, Molly Murphy. But I want to make sure my son is born fit and healthy.”
“Oh, it’s a son, is it?” I asked, my eyes teasing his. “What if it’s a daughter? Are you going to throw her back?”
He laughed. “If she’s anything like you, I’m in for a rough time.” He stood there looking at me. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re learning to slow down to a woman’s pace and enjoy home and family. I was worried that after all the excitement of being a dete
ctive you’d never manage to settle.”
“Of course I miss the excitement,” I said. “Wouldn’t you? But I also have to admit that I ran terrible risks and I’m lucky to be alive today.”
“You certainly are,” he said. “At one point I was ready to lock you up for your own protection.”
“I might say the same for you. You take terrible risks. I worry about you all the time.”
“I’m a man. Men are designed to take risks.”
I turned my gaze to the magnificent roses that spilled over the far wall, conscious that I was being just a tad hypocritical with my husband and not quite honest either.
We had reached the shade of a massive elm tree at the bottom of the garden. A rough bench had been built around the trunk and we sat on this, looking back at the house. I turned to Daniel.
“You could enjoy the benefit of my expertise if you’d only share your cases with me.” I said in what I hoped was a casual manner.
“Molly, we’ve been through this. You know I’m not supposed to discuss police business.”
“Surely that doesn’t apply to your wife—especially a wife who has been a darned good detective.”
“As it is I’m already ragged by the other fellows about my wife solving my cases for me.”
“There you are then. So it doesn’t matter if you discuss them with me.”
Daniel sighed. We sat for a while in silence, listening to the click of a mower in a distant garden.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “I think your brother has left the city. We’ve not found a trace of him anywhere, and none of my usual sources of information in the Lower East Side has seen him.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “I was so worried he’d be caught.”
“Of course you were. I understand that. It can’t have been easy feeling that you were trapped in the middle. That was precisely why I wanted you safely out of the city.”
