The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

Daniel glanced briefly at the woman who was now silent, but clung to the sleeve of the nun’s habit. He turned back to the constable. “Any witnesses? The whole damned street was crowded with people. Someone must have seen something.”


His eyes searched the crowd. I had been standing holding my breath, not daring to move. His gaze reached me, went to pass on, then he started in surprise.

“Molly, what the devil are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I came with Sarah,” I said. “You remember Sarah Lindley? She introduced me to an employment agency for domestics. We heard the screaming and…”

“An employment agency?” he snapped, glaring at me. “I thought we’d agreed to put this matter into the hands of my mother. I asked you to mail the letter.”

“Which I did,” I said, “but I met Sarah and it seemed like a good opportunity to check out some girls for myself.”

“But I thought I said clearly that—” He broke off abruptly. “We’ve no time to go into this now.” He turned to the younger constable. “Please escort Mrs. Sullivan away from here and find a cab to take her home.”





Four

The young constable came over and offered me his arm. Every fiber of my being was itching to resist, to shake him off, to tell Daniel that I was not going to be ordered around by him and would make my own decisions. But I also realized that I was his wife and I couldn’t question his authority in front of these people without jeopardizing his standing among them. Besides, the law gave husbands complete authority over their wives. This was really the first time I had had a true taste of Daniel exercising that authority, and I didn’t like it.

“Go home with the constable now, please, Molly,” Daniel said, “and we will discuss this later.”

I saw some of the women tittering behind their hands and others looking at me with sympathy. Sarah looked white-faced and shocked.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d better go. I don’t want to complicate matters.”

She nodded. “I understand. We’ll be in touch.”

I let the constable lead me away. We had to walk all the way to the Bowery before he found a hansom cab for me. Anger and humiliation thundered through my head all the way home. I was not going to accept this treatment from Daniel. I was not going to allow him to order me around like some servant. I was his wife, his partner, his equal. I would make that perfectly clear when he came home. When I reached Patchin Place I looked longingly at Sid and Gus’s red painted front door. If only they were home they’d take me in, allow me to let off steam, offer sympathy and advice, ply me with wine and whatever exotic delicacy they were cooking up at the moment. And at some stage we’d probably laugh over the stupidity of men and I’d come away feeling so much better. But they weren’t home. They were miles away, enjoying the brisk sea air in Rhode Island. I heaved a sigh and put the key in my front door.

When I took off my hat and gloves I found the letter from Ireland stuffed into my handbag. In all the excitement I had completely put it from my mind. I took it out and reread it, looking with sympathy at the unschooled hand that wrote it and sensing her fear. I certainly wasn’t just going to discard it or send it back to Ireland, that was for sure. Presumably I’d have to hand it over to Daniel and ask him to find another investigator to look into the disappearance of Maureen O’Byrne. Then my feisty nature resurfaced. The way Daniel had treated me, it would serve him right if I went behind his back and did the investigating myself.

A glance at the kitchen clock on the wall told me that I should think about preparing my husband’s evening meal.