The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

A horse and cart lumbered past, the poor horse with his head straining forward and breathing heavily as he attempted to drag a dray piled high with barrels. The clop of hooves and the rumble and rattle of the cart so close to me broke my train of thought and made me step back hastily from the curb. Then I realized that it was no use surmising. I would not be taking on this case. I had given up my detective business and promised Daniel that I would never again involve myself in stupidly dangerous situations. As hard as this was for me, I could see his point of view: I had narrowly escaped death on several occasions. I’d even suffered a miscarriage once that I had never found the courage to tell him about. He had been unjustly jailed at the time and in no position to marry me. As these thoughts passed through my mind I admitted that I had experienced some very dark hours. I had taken stupid risks. I was lucky to be alive and to be married to the man I loved with a bright future ahead of me.

I’d take the letter home, show it to Daniel, and ask if he knew of any reputable private detectives who might want to take on the job. I stopped at my favorite greengrocer on the corner of Ninth Street and bought a pound of peaches and some salad for Daniel’s supper, since it would be too hot to think of cooking much. I looked longingly at those peaches in my basket, tempted to eat one on the spot, but reminded myself that the respectable wife of a well-known police captain does not behave like a street urchin. Instead I joined the throng attempting to stay in the shade under the elevated railway tracks, and was trying to avoid being bumped and jostled when I heard my name being called.

I stepped out into the sunlight, looked up, and saw a delicate vision in pale lilac waving at me. She seemed almost unreal, so out of place among the drab colors of the sturdy housewives and laborers that I had to look twice before I recognized her. It was Sarah Lindley, fellow suffragist friend of Sid and Gus. In spite of the fact that she came from an upper-class and wealthy family she was not only passionately involved in the suffrage movement but had been volunteering at a settlement house in the slums of the Lower East Side. She looked both ways and dodged between a hansom cab and a big black carriage to come to me.

“Molly, how lovely to see you,” she said, giving me a delicate kiss on the cheek. “And how well you look. Positively blooming. How many months to go now?”

“Two and a half,” I said, “and it can’t go by quickly enough for me. I find this heat unbearable.”

“I know. Isn’t it just awful.” She brushed an imaginary strand of stray hair back under her lilac straw hat.

“Surely you could escape from it,” I said. “Don’t your folks have a country estate? Or weren’t you supposed to be making a European grand tour?”

“Already accomplished, my dear,” Sarah said, linking her arm through mine as we started to walk together. “We went in May. France, Italy, Germany, you name it, we were there. Every art gallery and palace in creation. All very lovely, but not a single prince or count asked for my hand so mama came home most disappointed.”

I glanced at her and we exchanged a grin. “I don’t imagine you’re in any hurry to marry after what you went through last year, are you?” I asked. Her last fiancé had turned out to be what we would have called a rotter who came to a bad end.

“Exactly,” she said. “And I want to be like you. I want to marry for love. Mama is all for a good match, but I don’t see why one should be unhappy for one’s whole life just to have a title or a castle or something.”

“So what are you doing in this part of the city?” I asked.

“Coming to pay a call on your dear neighbors,” she said. “I haven’t seen them since I came back from Europe and I’m dying to regale them with all my stories. I know they’ll love to hear about the fat German count who trapped me in the hotel elevator in Berlin and tried to kiss me.”

“How disgusting. What did you do? Scream for help?”

“Absolutely not, my sweet. I stuck the tip of my parasol into his foot. With considerable force. You should have heard him howl and hop around.”

I laughed. “Sid and Gus would be proud,” I said, “but I’m afraid you’ve come on a wasted journey. They are not home. They went to stay with Gus’s cousin in Newport.”

“Oh, the dreaded Roman mansion.” She laughed. “I wonder what made Gus endure that again? I thought she couldn’t stand that particular cousin.”

“I gather they were prepared to suffer the cousin for the sake of sea air,” I said. “It really is devilishly hot in the city. As I said I’m surprised you haven’t escaped.”

“Devotion to duty,” Sarah said. “One of our volunteers at the settlement house is getting married so I promised to take over her shifts.”

“You’re still working at the settlement house?”

“I am. It’s hard work, but it brings me great satisfaction to be able to make a difference in the lives of those people. We’ve expanded our educational programs and we’re teaching so many poor mothers about hygiene and good nutrition. That’s become my little pet project, actually. I love going out into the tenements and helping people. You’d be amazed how many mothers haven’t the slightest idea about how to look after their babies—they let the little dears crawl around on absolutely filthy floors and put anything they find in their mouths and they even give them rags soaked in gin to keep them quiet.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” I said.