12 The Family Way (21 page)

“There is one thing I can do and I will do,” I said. “And that is to go back to the Mainwarings’ house and talk to the servants.”

“And why would you want to do that?” Sid asked suspiciously. “I thought we ascertained that Maureen never returned to them, even though they expected her to.”

“So Mrs. Mainwaring said,” I said, surprised at the words that came out of my mouth. “I only have her word for it.”

“What reason would she have for denying it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe she changed her mind about having a fallen woman in a house where there was her own young child, but she didn’t want to appear ungracious and lose respect in the eyes of the sisters. Besides,” I added, “there is something that doesn’t quite add up about that place.”

Gus wagged a finger at me. “Are you sure you’re not being Irish and fey again? Just because this Mainwaring woman wasn’t open and welcoming to you, doesn’t mean she has anything to hide. She probably saw from your dress that you were not a person of consequence and therefore not worth the effort.” She reached across and touched my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wish to offend.”

“No offense taken,” I said. “I’m sure you’re quite right about that. She was a person to whom such things matter. Rather shallow and maybe vindictive, I thought. That’s why welcoming a disgraced servant back didn’t quite add up.”

“I see what you mean,” Sid nodded.

“So that’s why I need to go back there and talk to the servants. Servants always know what is going on. They’ll be able to tell me things about Maureen.”

“What sort of things?” Sid asked.

“Why she said she had no choice about going back there when she clearly didn’t want to. Why she was angry with Mrs. Mainwaring for coming to the convent. Why I have such a strange feeling that something is not right there.”

“You are a very stubborn woman, do you know that?” Sid said. “I pity Daniel, having to deal with you. I’m sure he sent you to his mother so that you couldn’t rush all over town, and now here you are doing exactly what he wanted to avoid.”

“I can’t help it,” I said. “And I’m not an invalid. I’m having a baby. And I feel fine. Women all over the world get on with their lives while they are pregnant. Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going back to the Mainwarings today.”

Gus looked at Sid and sighed. “Impossible,” she said. “I can see we’ll just have to kidnap her and lock her up.”

“I don’t try to stop you when you go on your suffragist marches, do I?” I reminded.

“We are not with child, Molly. If one of us were then I’m sure the other would make sure she did not do anything too strenuous.”

“Going to Irvington on the train cannot count as too strenuous,” I said, “and I’m sure you agree that the servants there may be able to shed light on Maureen’s character and why she felt she had to go back there if she was unhappy.” I gave them an appealing look. “One of them might also know where Maureen has run off to. Servants confide in each other, you know.”

“Very well,” Gus said at last. “I don’t suppose there can be any harm in your going to someone’s house, as long as you don’t walk out in the sun and make yourself exhausted.” She looked across at Sid. “Make sure you take a cab. There is bound to be one at the station.”

“I suppose we had better go with her to make sure she doesn’t do anything too risky and outlandish.” Sid looked at Gus for confirmation.

“You’ve been very kind,” I said. “You’ve already given up one full day of your holiday on the river. I can’t ask you to again. Besides, it might look suspicious if a whole bevy of women descends on the servants’ entrance at once.” I looked across at Bridie who was already tucking into her eggs with gusto at the other end of the table. “But I would ask a favor and leave Bridie with you today. I don’t want to show up with a child in tow. And I’m sure she doesn’t enjoy traipsing around all over the place with me.”

“Of course. We’d be delighted,” Gus said. “What would you like to do, Bridie?”

“Go swimming,” Bridie said quickly.

“Bridie, remember what Mrs. Sullivan said,” I reminded her. “She said that ladies only swim where there are bathing machines and when they have proper swimming attire.”

“Fiddle faddle,” Sid said, warming to the task now. “We’ll take you swimming, Bridie. We’ll go and find you a costume. I’m sure there will be bathing suits for children in a local store.”

Bridie looked at me with a half-guilty smile. “You won’t tell Mrs. Sullivan, will you?” she asked.

“My lips are sealed,” I replied.

So we set off, the others in search of swimming attire and the right place for a safe swim, and I to the station where a train soon arrived to take me to Irvington. There was no cab in sight when I arrived. I had remembered that the Mainwarings’ house was only a short way up the hill, and the day still being cool and fresh, I set off. I hadn’t realized that a short carriage ride is not the same as a short walk, or that the hill was so steep. I was huffing and puffing like a steam train by the time I reached those impressive wrought-iron gates and I had to sit for a while before I dared go inside. I had dressed simply today in a plain muslin with a little cape, as I wanted the servants not to be sure of my rank, and thus willing to chat with me. But the muslin I had chosen now clung to my back like a damp rag. I was sure I looked a sight. I took out the small mirror I carried in my purse and surveyed the damage. My hair was plastered to my forehead beneath my straw hat, and my face was as red as a beetroot. Thank heavens I wasn’t coming to call on Mrs. Mainwaring herself. I’d have to make sure I slipped through grounds and arrived at the servants’ entrance unseen or I would find myself summarily ejected.

I discovered a small gate in the wall and slipped in through it, glad I hadn’t had to draw attention to myself by opening those impressive wrought-iron affairs. I hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound of footsteps on the path. There was the nursemaid coming toward me, in a crisply starched gray-and-white uniform, pushing the baby carriage. She nodded to me, looking unsure as to who I might be and what I was doing there.

“If you’ve come to see the mistress, I’m afraid she’s out,” she said. I could see her analyzing my outfit and noticing my sweaty and unkempt appearance.

“No, I’ve come to talk with the servants,” I said. “About a young woman who worked here until recently. Maureen O’Byrne. Did you know her?”

“No, I didn’t, I’m afraid,” she said. “I haven’t been here long. I was only hired after the baby came.”

I had drawn level with her now and looked into the carriage. A beautiful child, probably two or three months old, lay asleep on a pale-blue, silk pillow. He had a little fuzz of red-gold hair and long dark lashes curled across his cheeks.

“What a lovely baby,” I said. “It’s a boy, is it?”

“That’s right. A little boy, ma’am.”

“Is it their first?” I asked, thinking that Mrs. Mainwaring was no longer in the first flush of youth.

“It is. The master’s pleased to have an heir at last, I can tell you.”

“And Mrs. Mainwaring? She must be pleased too, after waiting so long.”

The nursemaid gave me a sideways look. “She’s not exactly the motherly kind, if you know what I mean. Ladies from her class, they’re not raised to take much interest in their children, are they? Thank heavens for people like us, or the little mites would get no love and affection at all.”

I noted she had decided that I was not the same rank as the Mainwarings. I was “people like us.” That would be useful when it came to chatting with the other servants.

“I should be getting along. I’m holding you up from your walk,” I said. “Do I go around to the back of the house to find the servants’ entrance?”

“That’s right. If you follow that path it will take you through the orchard and you’ll see the back door.”

I thanked her and followed the path that skirted the wall, nicely hidden by large shrubs, until it came out to an apple orchard. Beyond the orchard was a stretch of lawn and beyond that some sort of earthwork was going on with a couple of men digging away and another hammering at some wood. I spotted the servants’ entrance at the back of the building and made for it. A maid was hanging out a line of laundry. She must have been so involved in her task that she didn’t hear me coming because she jumped and put her hand to her mouth to cover a scream.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve come about Maureen O’Byrne.”

“Maureen? She’s not here anymore.” The girl looked around nervously as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d get into trouble for talking to me. “Are you a relative of hers?”

I decided there were times when lying was permissible. This was one of them. “I am,” I said. “My name’s Molly. I’ve come over from Ireland because the family is worried about her.”

“I’m Anna.” She gave me a friendly little nod. “You heard then, did you?” she paused. “About what happened to her and why she’s not here?”

“About the baby, you mean? I did,” I said. “I was up at the convent and they said she was supposed to come back here, but that she ran off.”

“That’s what we heard too,” the girl said.

“So she never did come back then?”

She shook her head. “The last we saw of her was when she left here several months ago.”

“How well did you know Maureen?” I asked.

A wistful smile crossed her face. “We were good pals. A really nice girl. Refined. Kept herself to herself, if you know what I mean. Rather religious, wasn’t she? Really cut up about the baby. She said, ‘I’ll be spending centuries in purgatory for this, if I don’t go to hell.’”

“It must have been hard for her with Mrs. Mainwaring having a baby at the same time.” I said. “Sort of reminding her of what she was giving up.”

She looked at me funnily, embarrassed, almost as if she was in an agony of indecision.

“I suppose that’s why she didn’t want to come back to have to take care of another woman’s child,” I went on.

Her cheeks were bright red now and she shifted from one foot to the other, looking extremely uncomfortable. “It wasn’t exactly as easy as that. That’s why she was so torn. She didn’t want to be here, in fact she hated Mrs. Mainwaring, but she wanted to be near the baby. Well, who wouldn’t?” She looked at me, her eyes imploring me to understand. And suddenly I did. And as soon as I realized, I wondered how I could have been so dense.

My hand went up to my mouth. “It’s her child, isn’t it? Maureen’s. Mrs. Mainwaring couldn’t have children so they decided to adopt this one.”

She nodded. “We’re not supposed to know about it, but of course we all do. It’s the closest he’d ever come to a proper heir, I suppose.”

And then the final piece of the puzzle fell into place and again I wondered how I could not have seen the truth earlier.

“I see now. It was his child. Mr. Mainwaring. He was the father.”

She looked around, in case anyone might have overheard us. Then she moved in closer to me, speaking in a low voice. “That’s why she was scared to come back here. She thought he wouldn’t keep his hands off her again. Well, you know—Maureen is a pretty girl, isn’t she? And Mrs. Mainwaring—she hasn’t much interest in that sort of thing. She keeps her bedroom door locked most nights. I can tell because I take up her morning coffee, and I have to tap on the door and say, ‘It’s me, Anna, with the coffee, ma’am,’ before she’ll come and open it.”

“I see,” I said.

“And he’s that sort of man, isn’t he?” she went on. “Healthy appetite for that kind of thing, you know. He’s tried it with other servants in the past and some girls left rather than giving him his way. He tried it with me once, but I slapped his face and made it quite clear that he’d better not touch me. Maureen was so naïve, she didn’t realize until too late. And she didn’t want to be fired.”

“So she didn’t want to come back and yet she wanted to be close to her child. Poor thing. What a tough decision to make.”

Anna nodded. “Mrs. Mainwaring was furious too when she found that Maureen had run off. She’s not normally an emotional sort of woman but she was in a right state, I can tell you—stomping about and calling her ungrateful. I suppose she felt that Maureen had put her on the spot when she had to hire another nursemaid at such short notice. Poor Maureen—in the end her religion probably made her see it was better to give up the child rather than risk it all happening over again.” She put a tentative hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. This has obviously been a shock to you. Were you close to her?”

“Not really,” I said. “Only a distant cousin, but she was well loved by the family back in Ireland. I only hope I have some way of finding her now. Nobody seems to know where she might have gone. You don’t have any idea at all where she might go if she chose to run away? Did she ever talk of going off somewhere? Any friends she might have gone to?”

Anna thought about this, then shook her head. “She hated New York City. Too much noise and bustle for her after coming from the quiet of the Irish countryside, so I don’t think she’d have gone back there.”

“No young man then?”

“Who has a chance to meet a young man when we’re stuck at a place like this? There’s only the gardeners and the groom and they’re old and married.” She met my eye with a look of concern. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think where she might have gone.”

“I see,” I said. “Look, is there anyone else here she was close to? Anyone else she might have secretly contacted or confided in?”

“I can’t think who that would be,” she said. “Maureen and I shared a bedroom. I’m the head parlormaid. She was under-parlormaid. Apart from us there’s the lady’s maid, who’s a real snooty old cow, the master’s valet, who’s not interested in girls, if you get my meaning. And then there’s the cook, the scullery maid, and the butler. That’s it.”

I tried to think what else I might ask. It was all horribly clear now. Poor little Maureen, at the mercy of the master while his wife was quite happy to turn a blind eye as long as he didn’t bother her. No wonder she didn’t want to return to the house, especially when her religion was so important to her and she felt that she had committed a sin for something that wasn’t in any way her fault. I toyed with the word “religion.” Anna had stressed it several times. And a new thought came to me.