Away in a Manger Read online

  The gardens in the center of the square looked like a Christmas card scene, pristine behind their iron railings, untrodden, and with tree branches frosted with snow. Old memories came flooding back as I went up the steps to Miss Van Woekem’s front door. The maid who answered it clearly did not recognize me as the drab peasant girl, newly arrived from Ireland, who had once worked there. I have to say that gave me a certain sense of satisfaction.

  “Mrs. Molly Sullivan calling upon Miss Van Woekem,” I said, and presented my calling card. “I trust she is at home.”

  “She is, madam. Please come in.” The maid closed the front door behind me then took the card on a tray through to the front parlor. As she opened the door I heard voices. So Miss Van Woekem had other people to wish her well. I heard the conversation break off and then Miss Van Woekem’s commanding voice saying, “Show her in, by all means.”

  My cape, scarf, and gloves were taken from me and I smoothed down my silk skirt before entering the room. Several women were sitting there, surrounding Miss Van Woekem, who occupied the big Queen Anne chair by the fire. She smiled and held out her hand to me. “Molly, my dear child. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Forgive the intrusion,” I said, going over to kiss her on the cheek, “but I saw the announcement of your birthday in the society column and felt that I had to stop by to give you my congratulations—on your birthday and the engagement of your goddaughter.” I handed her my package. “And I brought you a small token.”

  She took it, smiling up at me. “How very kind. Do take a seat and join us. My maid was about to serve coffee and cake.” She introduced me to the various women, none of whose names meant anything to me, but then I hardly ever read the society columns. I took a seat on an upright chair beside the sofa on which two middle-aged matrons sat. They nodded to me pleasantly.

  “You live in Manhattan, do you, Mrs. Sullivan?”

  “I do. Close to Washington Square.”

  “Washington Square? Really?” The larger of them raised an eyebrow. “Is not that area overrun with students and immigrants these days?”

  “And bohemians?” the other woman added. “One hears that artists and writers and the like are taking over that part of the city. We had a friend who had to move from Fifth Avenue because it was no longer a good address.”

  “I live on a little backwater and am not troubled by outsiders,” I said, smiling sweetly.

  Luckily at that moment a trolley was wheeled in, laden with various cakes and a coffee service. Coffee was served and the women beside me fell upon the cream cakes as if they hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks. I couldn’t help thinking that Tig and Emmy, who really were close to starving, had eaten more daintily.

  “So tell me, do you know the bride-to-be?” one of the women asked me.

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” I replied.

  “Such a lovely girl. So tragic that her parents were both killed in the accident. Of course it has left her quite a wealthy woman, but one needs the guidance of a parent, doesn’t one?”

  “Miss Van Woekem has been a godsend to her. Having her to stay here while she introduced her to society.”

  I tried to keep my voice quite disinterested as I asked, “And the groom? What do you know of him? The name was not familiar to me.”

  “I haven’t met him personally,” one of them said, “but I understand that the Everetts are an old Philadelphia family.”

  “So he doesn’t live in New York?”

  “He does now, I believe. Is that not so, Miss Van Woekem?”

  “What is that, Mrs. Farnham?” The old lady looked up at the summons. “Eustace Everett? Yes, he is now a dedicated New Yorker with a pied-à-terre at that monstrous Dakota building. But of course he spends a lot of time with his uncle out on Long Island, since he is now the heir and will take over the business when his uncle dies.”

  “Shipping, is it now?” one of the other ladies asked. “Imports?”

  “That’s right. Montague’s Fine Java. They’re tea and coffee importers. Mr. Montague’s father made a fortune with the insatiable demand for coffee.”

  I had a mouthful of a rather crumbly cake and a crumb went down the wrong way. I rapidly put my napkin to my mouth as I coughed.

  “The groom’s uncle is Mr. Montague?” I asked when I was sure I could speak without spluttering.

  “That’s right. Such a lovely house in Great Neck on the Sound. Julia is so looking forward to hosting parties there in the summer.”

  “The young couple will live there then, will they?” one of the women sitting next to me asked.

  “Some of the time. Of course when Mr. Montague dies they will inherit. And one understands that he is in the poorest of health. It can only be a matter of time.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” one of the women mumbled.

  “Tell me…” The large lady beside me leaned forward in her seat. Crumbs fell off an ample bosom. “Wasn’t there some sort of tragedy or scandal with that family? Years ago?”

  Various heads nodded. “Didn’t the daughter run off with a servant?” The voice was lowered as if we might be overheard.

  “Something like that. The music teacher, I believe—brought over here to give her singing lessons. Anyway, the father disinherited her. Cut her off completely and made Eustace his heir. Fortunately for your goddaughter, Miss Van Woekem.”

  The old lady smiled and I knew her well enough to read into her expression that she wasn’t too fond of Mr. Eustace Everett.

  * * *

  I took my leave as soon as I dared without seeming rude, claiming that I had left my child with the nursemaid and he would need feeding. Miss Van Woekem took my hand, holding it in her cold and bony claw. “Come and see me more often, Molly, my dear. Bring the little one. Bring Daniel. I need young people around me, especially at this time of year.”

  “I will.” I smiled into that sharp, birdlike face. “Daniel is currently in hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound, but as soon as he’s up and around again we will most certainly be delighted to come and visit.”

  “Your husband is like a cat with nine lives,” she said, eyeing me somberly. “And I believe he must have used up eight of them. Come to that, so have you. It’s time you retired to the country and took up a less strenuous occupation. Let’s talk about it when you visit next.”

  I smiled and nodded, then kissed her cheek and took my leave. Was I being foolish ignoring so many warnings? Was it time we gave up a life tinged with danger and settled down to raise a family? But not just yet, I thought. I had finally found the missing piece of my puzzle. Margaret Everett Montague must have been the daughter who ran off with the music teacher and who had been cut off without a penny. And when her husband died and she could no longer cope with two children on her own, she had swallowed her pride and brought them back to America, hoping that her father would see the children and forgive her.

  And then she had vanished. Or had she seen her father, been turned away once more, and killed herself in a fit of despair? Anyway, I knew where Eustace lived and I would have a chance to find out. And if the grandfather saw those adorable children, surely he would accept them and welcome them into his home. I felt a great bubble of optimism as I walked to the trolley stop.

  Seventeen

  Being of a rather impetuous nature I was tempted to go to the Dakota building right away and seek out Eustace Everett. But then I made myself see sense. He would probably be at work in his uncle’s office, wherever that was. And when I approached him I would need proof—I’d take the locket with me for him to show to his uncle.

  I arrived home to find Bridie over at Sid and Gus’s house and the kitchen full of paper chains.

  “As you can see we’ve started the preparations for Christmas,” Gus called out merrily. “Sid is popping popcorn so that we can string it for the tree—which is very good of her, seeing that Christmas is actually not her holiday.”

  Sid looked up from the stove. “I’m happy to celebrate the spirit of
Christmas because it brings peace and goodwill,” she said. “And I’m all in favor of that. But the children shall also help me light the candles for each night of Hanukkah.” A smile spread across her face as she looked at Gus. “What a treat for us to celebrate the season with children. I already feel that we have been given our holiday gift.”

  I swallowed back the news I was dying to share with them. It would not be fair to raise the children’s hopes until I had something positive to tell them. So I waited until they were all three sitting threading popcorn and macaroni onto strings before I beckoned Sid and Gus out of the kitchen and told them the news. They were both excited.

  “Montague’s Fine Java. Of course we should have thought of that,” Gus said. “We used to drink it back in Boston. So how will you proceed? Will you take the children to meet their grandfather or will you write to him first?”

  “I was told that he’s very ill and not expected to live long,” I said. “I thought it would be more sensible to visit Eustace Everett first and show him the locket. Then he can take it to his uncle and give him the news at the right moment.”

  “Good idea,” Sid said. She touched my arm. “Oh, Molly. I am so excited for the children. After what they have been through, to be reunited with a family who can provide for them well. It’s such wonderful news.”

  “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” I said. “Their grandfather cut their mother off without a penny because she married an unsuitable man. We can tell from what the children remember that their father was a loving and kind man and that their mother was happy with him. So the grandfather is clearly an inflexible and uncaring type. He may not welcome his grandchildren even now.”

  “How could he not welcome two such adorable children?” Gus said. “Surely they would melt the hardest of hearts?”

  “I hope so,” I said. “I’ll pay a visit to Eustace Everett tomorrow morning if I can.”

  “And I will pluck up courage and pay a call on wicked Aunt Hettie this afternoon,” Sid said. “I should tell her what we plan to do before nightfall so that she knows the children are safe.”

  “Not that she’d care,” Gus said indignantly.

  “But we don’t want her to notify the wrong people either,” I said.

  “Wrong people?” Gus asked.

  “Someone, somewhere is clearly paying her to keep the children,” I said. “Otherwise, with an unfeeling nature like hers she would have turned them out long ago.”

  “Perhaps their mother left enough money for their room and board and Aunt Hettie is keeping most of it and making the children sleep in the attic. But she’s not turning them out completely in case the mother returns,” Gus suggested.

  I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that, Gus,” I said. “I’m still not sure we’re doing the right thing by telling Aunt Hettie where the children are.”

  “Would you have me send them back to her? Have them living in constant fear of when they might be thrown into the river, Molly?” Sid demanded.

  “Of course not. I’d prefer to have her worry about where they might have gone and who they might have told about the way she treated them. It would serve her right to live with that worry and uncertainty.”

  “But you do see that their mother would need to know where to find them, on the off chance that she returns to them,” Gus said.

  I sighed, glancing down the hallway to make sure that little ears were not listening. “I think we have to assume that a tragedy has befallen their mother. I suspect she might have been to see her father, who rejected her yet again, thus causing her to end her own life in despair.”

  “Let us then hope that the children melt their grandfather’s heart of stone and are reunited with him before he dies,” Gus said.

  Amen to that, I thought.

  * * *

  I took Bridie home with me to find my mother-in-law had dinner on the stove and Liam sitting happily in his chair, thoroughly sticky with a slice of bread and jam.

  “Well, here you all are,” she said, smiling at us. “So tell me about your afternoon excitements.” I could never tell from her expression whether she was annoyed, or felt that she was being taken advantage of, at being left home alone with Liam. Those things would only come out later when she’d casually mention them to Daniel. But perhaps I was misjudging her. Perhaps she was happy to be part of the family and to take care of us all.

  “We made paper chains and then we strung popcorn for the tree,” Bridie said. “And Miss Walcott made gingerbread men and they were so good.”

  Daniel’s mother nodded, trying to find it in her heart to approve of the actions of my neighbors of whom she so heartily disapproved. “And how was Miss Van Woeken?” she asked. “Is she well?”

  “She looks very frail, but she has looked that way since I first met her,” I said.

  “I forget now—when did you meet her?”

  “Soon after I arrived in New York.” I went to pour myself a cup of tea.

  “And how did your paths cross? I wouldn’t have thought you moved in the same social circles in those days.”

  I smiled. “I was her companion. I had to push her around the park and read to her. Our relationship was quite thorny at first, but we came to respect each other and now I’m actually rather fond of her.”

  “But you didn’t stay long as her companion?”

  “No, I couldn’t stay any longer after I discovered—” I broke off what I had been going to say. After I discovered Daniel had deceived me and was engaged to another woman. And that other woman was another goddaughter of Miss Van Woekem. Painful memories flashed through my mind. “I decided I was not cut out to be a servant,” I said. “I was more suited to running my own business. I wasn’t born to be humble.” And I managed a bright smile.

  “When are we going to get a Christmas tree?” Bridie asked.

  “Daniel said that we should go out and choose one before the good ones are gone,” I replied, “but I’d much rather wait until he’s home and can come with us.”

  “He may not be up to walking around much for a while,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “And he certainly shouldn’t be jostled by crowds. It could open the wound again.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Then it’s decided, Bridie. We’ll all go to choose the tree tomorrow. But we’ll wait to decorate it until Captain Sullivan is home with us.”

  “Do we have any indication when that might be?” Daniel’s mother asked.

  “In the next few days, he seemed to think. He was looking so much better already.”

  “He’ll be home for Christmas. That’s all that matters,” she said.

  She went across to the shelf and took down a cardboard box. “I’m not sure whether you have any ornaments, after your fire this year,” she said. “So I’ve brought down Daniel’s favorites from when he was a little boy.”

  She started to unpack them from tissue paper, one by one: bright glass balls of various sizes, a blue glass bird with a feather tail, a tiny glass trumpet, a glass acorn, a bunch of grapes. Then a star to put on top of the tree, and candleholders for the branches.

  “They are lovely,” I said. “I was wondering today what we’d use to decorate the tree, and here you’ve provided everything we need once again.”

  “And don’t forget my popcorn chain,” Bridie said.

  “Of course not. No tree would be complete without chains. And we should decorate some walnuts to hang on the branches. And maybe some small apples.”

  Bridie nodded with satisfaction. “It’s going to be the best tree ever,” she said.

  We were just sitting down to dinner when there was a knock at the front door. I went to open it and found Sid standing there.

  “I did it, Molly,” she said. “I went to see her—the old witch.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “She was quite as horrible as you describe. The most unpleasant woman I’ve ever encountered. Interested only in money, I came to realize. I told her that we had seen the children begging and d
ecided to do the charitable thing by taking them off the streets until the weather gets warmer. I asked if she had any idea what might have happened to their mother so we could help locate her. She claimed she had no idea. Walked out and left the children and never came back. That’s all she knew. I said that of course I realized she had a business to run and couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s children. So we’d obviously be doing her a favor by taking them off her hands, and if she did hear anything that might lead us to their mother, of course there would be a reward.”

  She looked at me angrily. “You should have seen her eyes light up at the word ‘reward.’ Until then I could tell she was ambivalent, not sure if she was being tricked into something, or accused of not treating the children properly. But then she was all smiles and said she’d be sorry to lose the little dears, but of course she didn’t have the time or space to care for them like we could. ‘Please give the little dears my fondest wishes,’ she concluded.”

  “You handled it very well, Sid,” I said. “Won’t you come in?”

  “No, I need to be there to assist Gus with bath and bed.” She smiled. “This is quite a new experience for us—to be instant parents. I rather like it so far.”

  I watched her as she hurried back across the street. Parenting was a novelty to them—their latest fad. But what would happen if we did not reunite the children with their family? If they realized they were to be stuck with two children for the long term? I pushed aside that worrying thought as I closed the front door.

  Eighteen

  We spent the evening talking about Christmas preparations. Bridie was determined to knit Emmy a new scarf, even though she wouldn’t have to be out in the cold anymore. Daniel’s mother was also busy with her knitting, finishing up a jacket for Liam. Never having been the world’s best knitter, I felt inadequate. I realized Daniel and I had talked about Liam’s Christmas present, and also a surprise for Bridie, but as yet I had nothing for Daniel, his mother, or Sid and Gus. I had expected to have ample time to think about these things, not to be embroiled in yet more worries.