The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“But you are performing a wonderful service here, Mother,” I said. “Those girls here would have nowhere to go if you hadn’t taken them in. They would have wound up dead or eventually in prostitution.”


She nodded. “Maybe you are right, but by opening our door to the outside world we also let in evil. It is easy to be seduced by money, however noble the cause.” She sighed. “Poor Sister Jerome. She had no vocation, I’m afraid. But once she had renounced the world she could no longer return to it. And because I have been in frail health recently I see now that she usurped my authority. Sister Perpetua warned me…”

“Sister Perpetua pleaded with her not to turn out Blanche, but she didn’t listen.”

“The sin of pride. She thought she knew best.”

“But you won’t report this to the police, will you?” I said.

“Given the circumstances I think it’s best not to. Nothing can be gained by it and the sanctity of our convent will be violated. My daughters and the order must come first.”

“Even though Sister Jerome murdered at least two people?”

“She has given her own life in return. It is her soul I grieve for. Her poor twisted soul.” She looked sharply at me. “You took a big risk to your own safety and that of your child for someone you didn’t even know. That was either extremely noble or foolhardy.”

“I didn’t realize the extent of the risk I was taking,” I said. “Otherwise I would never have come here.”

A slight smile twitched at her lips. “Yes, you would, I suspect,” she said. “But may I now suggest that you go home and take no more risks. Your first obligation now is to your husband and child, and frankly you’ll need all your strength for a new baby.”

And so I had left the convent. The other girls hung back, rather in awe of me now that they knew I was not one of them. I overheard one of them whisper that perhaps I was an angel sent to avenge Maureen and Katy. At least that made me smile. Only Elaine had the courage to come to say good-bye. “Think of me in this place when you have your own baby, won’t you?” she said. “I’m glad to know that you won’t have to give yours up. You obviously care much more about it than I do about mine. I don’t think I’m the motherly sort.”

“Why don’t you leave and go to a refuge in the country?” I said. “You don’t have to stay here and endure this.”

“I think things will get better now that Sister Jerome is no longer in charge,” she replied. “Mother says that the doctor will be called in for future deliveries until a new midwife can be properly trained.” She gave me a brave smile. “And I really can’t leave, you know. I couldn’t risk being found out, however slight the chance would be.”

“I wish you all the best, then,” I said. “And I hope you have a happy life with your fiancé when he returns from his sea voyage.”

“I intend to. Maybe I’ll come and visit you in New York, but I don’t think we’ll discuss old times.” She grinned, then turned away as I walked toward the front door where the doctor awaited me.

“That place has always intrigued me,” the doctor said as the horse clip-clopped down the hill at a slow and steady pace. “No good can come from shutting a lot of women away together. All their worst qualities come out.”

“Not all of them,” I said. “Those who truly chose to be there are probably quite happy. It’s those who didn’t have a vocation like Sister Jerome who were eaten away inside.”

I was deposited outside The Lighthouse Inn and went in cautiously, not sure what kind of reception I’d find. As I came up onto the porch I heard a scream. After what I had been through that night my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. But it was Bridie, running toward me, arms open.

“She’s here. She’s come back!” she shouted in her high little voice.

Immediately the lady innkeeper appeared from the kitchen as Sid and Gus came running down the stairs.

“Thank God, oh, thank God,” Gus said and joined Bridie in hugging me.

“Where have you been?” Sid demanded. “We have been worried out of our minds. We were about to go to the police and to send a wire to Daniel. Gus wanted to do so last night, but I didn’t want to contact Daniel until we really had to—for your sake.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I got myself locked away in that confounded convent. I tried to send you a message, but the girl who was supposed to deliver it killed herself.”

“But you were going down to Irvington.” Sid was still glaring at me. “You were going to visit the Mainwaring household, so you told us. We telephoned Mrs. Mainwaring and she said she had been out all day and had not seen you.”

“I did go there,” I said, “and I learned the whole story of Maureen and her baby and the baby’s father.” I glanced down at Bridie who was clinging onto my skirt like a rock. “Bridie, love, why don’t you run upstairs and find me a handkerchief in my bag?” I said.