The Family Way Read online

  I looked back at the others. “I’ll show you proof of what Sister Jerome has been getting up to behind your backs.”

  One of the young nuns had returned with water and was sponging Sister’s face. Her breath was now ragged.

  “Mad and dangerous. Lock her away before she hurts someone else,” she gasped.

  I could sense hands waiting to grab me. The girl came running back with the attaché case. “Open it,” I said. I took out the oilskin pouch. “Look at this. It’s full of money.”

  “Of course it is, foolish child,” Sister said with surprising force. “I’m the convent banker. We’ve been saving up for a new roof. We almost have enough, thanks to my business acumen.”

  “Do your sisters know how you’ve been amassing this money?” I asked. “That you’ve essentially been selling babies?” I looked up at faces staring at me with puzzled fascination. “Maureen O’Byrne threatened to let out your secret, didn’t she? Unless you let her keep her child.”

  “Maureen O’Byrne?” Sister Perpetua asked. “What has she to do with this?”

  “Do you want to tell her, Sister?” I asked, staring down at Sister Jerome.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about. Mad.” The voice was little more than a whisper now.

  “Take the lid off Sister Francine’s coffin,” I said, “and I’ll show you what Sister Jerome is capable of.”

  “Open Sister’s coffin?” one of the nuns said. “The girl really is mad.”

  “Do as she says,” Sister Perpetua said quietly.

  “But she’s not been dead long. Think of the stench.”

  “See if we’re strong enough to move the lid,” one of the younger sisters said, going across to the nearest stone coffin. “Come on, help me.”

  Several girls and sisters pushed and strained together at the big sarcophagus, grunting with the effort. There was a grinding sound as stone moved against stone, then one of them exclaimed, “Holy Mother of God!” They backed away hastily as we all recoiled at the smell. Hands were pressed against noses. There was the sound of retching. Some girls went hastily back up the steps. I took a deep breath and went over to the coffin.

  They had only succeeded in moving the lid several inches. With much trepidation and not at all sure what I would find, I reached my hand in, touched something soft, and pulled out a long strand of red-blond hair.

  “I don’t think Sister Francine had hair like this, did she?” I asked.

  Nuns crossed themselves.

  “Who is it?” one of them asked.

  “It’s Maureen O’Byrne,” I said. “She didn’t run away after all. She must have figured out what Sister Jerome had been doing and threatened to expose her if Sister didn’t let her keep her child.”

  There was a collective gasp. Sisters and girls alike turned back to stare at Sister Jerome.

  “You stupid girl.” She spat the words. “I was doing it for you.”

  I stared down at her, feeling a mixture of pity and revulsion. “For me? How were you doing this for me? You’d never met me until yesterday.”

  “For the cause, the Irish cause,” she said, speaking the words slowly now as if it hurt her to breathe. “The money was going to the Republican Brotherhood. To Irish freedom. And now you’ve ruined everything.”

  “Stand aside, please. Here’s Mother now,” said a strong voice. The crowd parted and at the top of the stairs stood an old, hunched, and wizened woman in a nun’s habit, supported by a younger nun. Beside her was a young priest.

  “Help me down the steps,” she said and she came down, with the priest supporting one arm, the sister the other.

  She stood over Sister Jerome. “Jerome, what is this? What have you done?” she asked. She smelled the stench and her gaze went to the half-open coffin. “And who has desecrated Sister Francine’s resting place?”

  “It’s Maureen O’Byrne, Mother,” Sister Perpetua said. “Maureen O’Byrne’s body has been hidden in Francine’s tomb.”

  “Who did this terrible thing?” Mother asked.

  “Sister Jerome.” I could hardly get the words out. “And she killed Katy too. Pushed her down these very stairs.”

  The old woman looked at me with surprise and interest, not knowing who I was. “She tried to kill me,” I added. “But she misjudged and fell down the steps herself.”

  The old woman shook her head sadly. “Oh, my dear Jerome. I warned you, didn’t I? I saw the signs—the secrecy, the way you tried to distance yourself from us. I feared that you would betray all that the order stands for. The sin of pride, my daughter. You had too much pride. Make amends for that now. Repent before you go to your maker. Father Bernard will hear your confession.”

  “I don’t wish to confess,” Sister Jerome said. “I have suffered my own hell for twenty years. I never wanted to be here. I never truly believed. I have been locked away, deprived of a normal life. It is you who should be begging my forgiveness.”

  Father Bernard knelt down beside her. “I beg you to reconsider, Sister,” he said. “You cannot go to your maker with these terrible sins on your conscience.”

  “I have no conscience,” she said. “And I am not sorry for anything. Go away. I wish to die alone.”

  “You should all leave now,” Mother said. “Father Bernard and I will stay at her side until it is time for mass. Bring the doctor down to us as soon as he gets here.”

  “Mass, Mother?” one of the girls said. “Surely we won’t be having mass now?”

  “Nothing will ever stand in the way of the order of this house,” Mother said firmly. “Our primary purpose is worship and prayer. We will prepare ourselves to pray for Sister Jerome’s soul, even if she will not.”

  “There is no point in bringing a doctor,” Sister Jerome said. “My body is broken.”

  As we started to walk away she said to no one in particular, “Such a waste. I could have done so much more. Somebody tell my sister, but not my parents. They don’t deserve to know.”

  “Should we perhaps call the police, Mother?” one of the nuns asked.

  “Not yet, Sister,” the old nun replied in a low whisper and she glanced over at Sister Jerome who was now lying there with her eyes closed.

  I understood her wisdom. She wanted to make sure that Sister Jerome died in peace. She wanted to protect the convent from outsiders. I joined the others going back up the stairs and I didn’t look back at the woman who had tried to kill me.

  We walked back to our dormitory in silence, took our day clothes from the pegs on the wall and began to dress, all too stunned to talk. A head reared up from the end bed. “Is it time for breakfast yet? I’m starving.” Elaine asked drowsily.

  “Yes, who is on breakfast duty?” someone else joined in. “Come on, hurry up. We want something to eat before mass.”

  “What was all the fuss about?” Elaine asked. “Where did everyone go running off to?”

  “Sister Jerome. She fell down the steps to the crypt. And it turned out she killed Maureen and Katy.”

  “That’s what you thought all along, wasn’t it, Molly?” Elaine asked. “That’s why you came here.”

  I looked at her with surprise. “All those questions,” she said. “Frankly I’d wondered myself, but I thought it wiser to stay silent. Has someone called the police in?”

  “Sister Jerome is dying,” someone said quietly. “I think Mother’s going to let her die in peace.”

  It seemed that everyone today was putting on her day dress without bothering to wash first. I did the same. As some of them went down to the kitchen I looked at the rumpled empty bed beside mine and suddenly remembered about Aggie and her awful screams. There had been no sounds coming from the maternity wing when I went past earlier. And Sister had left her to follow me to the chapel. Did that mean that she was alive or dead? I prayed that just one of last night’s dramas had a happy ending. I decided to go and find out for myself.

  I walked down the hall and as the others descended the stairs to breakfast, I went
in the opposite direction, through that forbidden door. As I pushed open the door I heard the sound of a baby crying. The first room I came to had eight beds in it, but only three were occupied. At the foot of each bed was a crib. Three faces looked up at me expectantly as I came in.

  “You’re new,” one of the girls said. “Have you brought breakfast? It’s late and we’re hungry.” She was nursing a baby and didn’t bother to cover herself as I came in. “And where’s Sister this morning?”

  “Sister has had an accident,” I said. “I’ll see about breakfast. I wanted to know what happened to Aggie.”

  “Aggie? The one who kept us awake all night with that awful row?”

  “Yes.”

  “I expect she’s still in delivery, sleeping.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Two doors down the hall. But get a move on with breakfast, won’t you?”

  I went on down the hall and pushed open the door cautiously, not sure if I wanted to see what was awaiting me. A still, white form lay in the bed. She looked so pathetically young and frail that a lump came to my throat. She had claimed she was dying and it was true. I looked across at the cot where a tiny baby lay, apparently asleep. As I tiptoed over to it a voice said sharply, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off my baby.”

  And Aggie sat up, glaring at me.

  “I came to see how you were,” I said. “I was worried.”

  “Oh,” she said. “It wasn’t too bad in the end. Went quite quickly really. And I’ve got a baby boy. Fancy that. A baby boy—me!” And a big smile spread over her thin, pinched face. At the sound of her voice the baby stirred. Dark eyes fluttered open and I could have sworn he stared straight at me. And I knew that I had to go home, back to loved ones and normality.

  Thirty

  Later that morning I rode beside the doctor, back down the hill to the town. Sister Jerome still lingered on and as far as I knew had not died by the time I left. I did not go to see for myself. They had taken her on a stretcher to the nuns’ guest room where Blanche had killed herself the night before, so that she didn’t have to endure the bumping of going upstairs. The doctor had said that little more could be done for her and it was only a matter of time. Her fellow nuns were praying beside her whether she wanted it or not. I thought it ironic that she would die in the same room where Blanche had taken her life, thanks to Sister Jerome’s callous behavior. Or had she? I wondered if Sister might have had a part in that death too. Now we’d never know.

  After mass I had been summoned for a long interview with Mother. She listened to the whole story, her boot-button eyes surprisingly alive and alert in that old face. When I had finished she said, “Our order came here almost a hundred years ago. Our mission was to pray for the sinfulness of the world from which we had shut ourselves away. Then a few years ago a young girl came to our doorstep, with child and desperate. Her family had cast her out and she had nowhere to go. We took her in and decided that we would never turn away a girl in similar circumstances. Clearly God had sent her to us. Word got out and more girls came. Suddenly we found ourselves not only praying the offices, but caring for mothers and babies. We were no longer cut off from the world, however hard we tried. It was a mistake. We should never have strayed from our original purpose.”

  “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 b
aby 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.

  As she went Gus asked, “And? Who was he? Did she run off to be with him?”

  “Quite the opposite,” I said. “Her employer, Mr. Mainwaring, had his way with her, as they say. He had a lecherous eye and apparently couldn’t keep his hands off the servants. They wanted that poor girl to give them her child as they had no child of their own. They’d adopt it and she would be hired back as its nurse. Imagine her dilemma—wanting to be close to her baby, but not wanting that monster to get his hands on her again.”

  “There is no justice in this world for women,” Sid said angrily. “Why should a woman be shunned by society and condemned for her act if she gives birth to an illegitimate child, even if she was forced, against her will? And the man walks away, whistling merrily.”

  “When we have the vote you must run for Congress, Sid,” Gus said. “You’ll be able to change things.”

  “Maybe,” Sid said, “but go on with your story, Molly. You went back to the convent and they dragged you inside and imprisoned you?”

  “No, I confess that I behaved as usual without thinking clearly. Too impetuous by half, my mother always said. Too hotheaded.” I grinned. “I pretended to be a wayward girl and got myself admitted. I sensed that Maureen had never left the place and I was right. One of the nuns had killed her and hidden her body in another nun’s coffin.”

  “God Almighty,” Sid said.

  “Killed her, what on earth for?” Gus asked.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened but she changed her mind at the last minute and wanted to keep her child. Sister Jerome was privately making good money from placing babies with suitable families—essentially selling babies to childless couples. I think Maureen threatened to spill the beans if she wasn’t allowed to leave and Sister Jerome couldn’t have that happen.” I stopped, staring out at the peaceful scene in front of us—the broad river, flowing lazily past and in the distance a sailing ship. Already the convent seemed like a bad dream.