The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

We lapsed into silence. I was wondering how I could come up with a way to visit the convent that had taken in Maureen. It had been hard enough to convince Mrs. Sullivan to visit the Mainwarings. I couldn’t at the moment think of a good excuse to visit a convent. I wasn’t known for my religious fervor, in fact I’d only agreed to being married in the Catholic Church for Daniel’s sake. I certainly didn’t think my mother-in-law would believe I had another friend whose sister was a nun and would want me to call upon her.

I sighed. It was hopeless. A wicked little idea crept into my mind that I could pretend to have received an urgent summons to go home, then go instead to a local inn and investigate at my leisure, but deceiving my mother-in-law left a bad taste in my mouth and it was bound to lead to complications with Daniel when his mother wrote to ask him why I was needed at home so urgently and I hadn’t turned up. I sighed. Why couldn’t I give up my former life gracefully and accept this new stage of my life? I knew the answer. Because I was so close. The convent was nearby. A few questions and I’d find out the truth. I’d most likely be able to write to the folks in Ireland with news of Maureen. All I needed was one day to myself. This required some serious thought.

As we approached the lane leading to our house I said casually, “Mrs. Mainwaring suggested that I go to look at some of the fine mansions nearby.”

“There certainly are some fine homes closer to the river,” Mrs. Sullivan agreed. “Mr. Washington Irving’s Sunnyside, and the Octagon House. But I expect she means that monstrosity that Vanderbilt has constructed at Hyde Park. Some people would be impressed by all those pillars and whatnot.”

“She also said there was a convent nearby that was worth a look?” I suggested, wondering if I was stabbing in the right direction. “Interesting old buildings with some history?”

She frowned. “A convent? I don’t know what she was referring to. There’s only one convent that could be described as nearby and that’s the one in North Tarrytown. I wouldn’t say the buildings have any architectural merit. It used to be the old fever hospital before the nuns took it over in the last century. Depressing-looking place if you ask me, up on a hill and exposed to the gales. All Gothic arches from what you can see of it. And of course you can’t go inside. They are an enclosed order.”

“Oh, then it can’t be the same one,” I said. “This one takes in mothers and babies. Mrs. Mainwaring said they did wonderful work.”

Mrs. Sullivan was eyeing me curiously now. “They take in fallen young women. Not the sort of place for respectable people like you or me. And I wonder why this Mrs. Mainwaring is so keen on it? Is she a Catholic? I’ve not seen her at any Catholic charitable functions in the county.”

“I’ve no idea,” I said, with a shrug of the shoulders. “Not everyone’s idea of interesting architecture is the same. Perhaps she likes places of Gothic horror.” I smiled, to show that this was of no importance.

“Mrs. Mainwaring sounds most disagreeable. I’m glad I didn’t accompany you and that you have no reason to visit her again.” She dabbed at her forehead. “I think we have had enough excursions for the time being. It’s not good for you to go running around the countryside in your delicate state. I noticed when you climbed into the trap that your ankles are starting to swell up.”

When we reached Mrs. Sullivan’s house and went inside I found a letter from Sid and Gus waiting for me on the hall table. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” I said. “My friends have written to me. Would you excuse me, please?” And I took it up to my room to read.

I think we have combed every inch of the Lower East Side, Gus wrote in her neat sloping hand, and haven’t seen anyone resembling your brother. If he is still here, he is not venturing forth, at least during daylight hours. Sid has decided enough is enough and has other fish to fry—she’s been asked to write an article on the state of the suffrage movement in America for a British journal. And I must admit I yearn to get back to my painting. We really did our best, Molly. We have left your note with Sarah, just in case she spots your brother.

Of your dear husband we have not seen hide nor hair. He must be going to work at an ungodly hour before we’re awake and returning after dark. Really you should persuade him to take up a more sensible profession, Molly. The man will wear himself out before he’s forty.

Oh, and remember the incident of the wrong baby we reported to you? It made all the newspapers and now there is a general public outcry to catch the kidnappers. Could it be that this is what is keeping Daniel busy to all hours? Frankly the publicity will not help, I’m afraid. The kidnappers will surely lie low until the fuss has died down.

I trust you are enjoying the tranquility of the countryside with no such drama. It is still frightfully hot in the city and Sid talks of renting a cottage out in the Hamptons.

Your devoted friend,