The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

I smiled to myself. Soon I’d have my friends nearby and all would be right with the world. I suppose I should have been more excited at the prospect of my husband coming to Sunday luncheon and of course I wanted to see him, but he was not good company when he was overworked like this and would undoubtedly begrudge the time away from work. If he came at all, that was.

I sealed the envelopes, put on stamps, then crept downstairs to find Jonah. I found him easily enough, hard at work mending the outdoor pump, muttering to himself and using words a lady should never overhear. I backed away carefully and decided I could walk the letters to the nearest mailbox myself. It was a decision I regretted as soon as I reached the end of the lane leading into Elmsford. I hadn’t realized quite how hot the afternoon had become and every step became an effort. I had thought that the nearest mailbox was only a short walk away but the road seemed to stretch on forever. I wasn’t going to give up having come this far, but the sweat was running into my eyes by the time I pushed the letters through the slot and turned for home.

I hadn’t gone far when I was overcome by an attack of dizziness and had to sit on a tree stump in the shade. This was something I hadn’t experienced since the early days of my pregnancy and it alarmed me. I wasn’t the sort of woman who succumbed to an attack of the vapors! Grudgingly I had to admit that maybe my husband and mother-in-law were right and I should not be doing anything too strenuous. I had been rushing around all morning and should have taken a proper rest. Maybe this quest to find Maureen O’Byrne was too much for me.

I looked up as I heard the sound of a horse’s hooves coming from Elmsford at a brisk trot. A small black closed carriage approached. As I watched it I caught a glimpse of the person inside. It was a tall, gaunt, hooded figure in black and it resembled Sister Jerome, the harsh nun I had met earlier today. I watched the carriage pass with interest. Curious. If those nuns were an enclosed order, then didn’t that mean that they never left the convent? So what was one of them doing alone in a carriage, and a rather fine-looking carriage at that? And weren’t nuns always supposed to travel in pairs?

I got up and headed back to the house. There was something strange about that convent and the way that Sister Jerome had deliberately tried to put me off from looking for Maureen. Another thought crossed my mind—what if she hadn’t run away at all, but was still locked up, a prisoner of the nuns? And I knew I couldn’t let the matter rest. My curiosity and concern wouldn’t let me. I also realized that I had a perfect opportunity to do some snooping. Sid and Gus could invite me to stay on the river with them for a few days. And from there I could take the train up to Cortland to call upon Emily Robbins who, according to Katy, had been thick with Maureen. I could even go back to the convent on the pretext of interviewing Katy for future employment in my household.

I found a new spring in my step. I had the bit between my teeth now and nothing was going to stop me.

Two days later I received two letters. The first was from Sid and Gus, thanking me for my research and telling me that they had sent a wire to The Lighthouse Inn, booking themselves in from Friday onward and couldn’t wait to see me. The other letter was from Daniel. His mother was right. He had been working too hard for too long. He had decided to come up for Sunday lunch and maybe even to stay on for a couple of days.

“Oh, what wonderful news,” Mrs. Sullivan said as I read the letter out loud to her. “He obviously misses you terribly, my dear.”

I nodded. I knew I should be ecstatic that my husband missed me so much that he was coming all the way to Elmsford to see me, but the first thought I’d had was that I’d now have to wait until he left before I’d have a chance to visit Sid and Gus at The Lighthouse Inn. And who knows, they might have found life in Tarrytown too boring by then and flitted to pastures new. They rarely stayed in one spot for long and if they went I’d have no opportunity to carry on with my quest to find Maureen.

*

On Sunday morning the house was in a flurry of activity. First we all had to go to church at eight. I went along too, not because I wanted to, but because I knew that my lack of religion would distress my mother-in-law, who expected everyone to go to church. Then we had a hurried breakfast before Daniel’s mother had my things moved to her own bedroom so that he and I could have the big four-poster bed.

“We can’t turn you out of your room,” I protested.

“It’s only right that a married couple should have the one good bed in the house,” she insisted, and there was no budging her.

Daniel arrived about eleven. He came up the path slowly, as if every step was an effort, but his face lit up when he saw me.

“Well, look at you,” he said, bounding up the last two steps to me. “Positively blooming. The fresh air obviously agrees with you.”

He had to lean across my belly to give me a kiss.

“That’s more than I can say for you,” I responded. “You look awful. You’ve great bags under your eyes. I don’t believe you’ve slept properly since I left.”