The Family Way (Molly Murphy, #12)

“Going to Irvington on the train cannot count as too strenuous,” I said, “and I’m sure you agree that the servants there may be able to shed light on Maureen’s character and why she felt she had to go back there if she was unhappy.” I gave them an appealing look. “One of them might also know where Maureen has run off to. Servants confide in each other, you know.”


“Very well,” Gus said at last. “I don’t suppose there can be any harm in your going to someone’s house, as long as you don’t walk out in the sun and make yourself exhausted.” She looked across at Sid. “Make sure you take a cab. There is bound to be one at the station.”

“I suppose we had better go with her to make sure she doesn’t do anything too risky and outlandish.” Sid looked at Gus for confirmation.

“You’ve been very kind,” I said. “You’ve already given up one full day of your holiday on the river. I can’t ask you to again. Besides, it might look suspicious if a whole bevy of women descends on the servants’ entrance at once.” I looked across at Bridie who was already tucking into her eggs with gusto at the other end of the table. “But I would ask a favor and leave Bridie with you today. I don’t want to show up with a child in tow. And I’m sure she doesn’t enjoy traipsing around all over the place with me.”

“Of course. We’d be delighted,” Gus said. “What would you like to do, Bridie?”

“Go swimming,” Bridie said quickly.

“Bridie, remember what Mrs. Sullivan said,” I reminded her. “She said that ladies only swim where there are bathing machines and when they have proper swimming attire.”

“Fiddle faddle,” Sid said, warming to the task now. “We’ll take you swimming, Bridie. We’ll go and find you a costume. I’m sure there will be bathing suits for children in a local store.”

Bridie looked at me with a half-guilty smile. “You won’t tell Mrs. Sullivan, will you?” she asked.

“My lips are sealed,” I replied.

So we set off, the others in search of swimming attire and the right place for a safe swim, and I to the station where a train soon arrived to take me to Irvington. There was no cab in sight when I arrived. I had remembered that the Mainwarings’ house was only a short way up the hill, and the day still being cool and fresh, I set off. I hadn’t realized that a short carriage ride is not the same as a short walk, or that the hill was so steep. I was huffing and puffing like a steam train by the time I reached those impressive wrought-iron gates and I had to sit for a while before I dared go inside. I had dressed simply today in a plain muslin with a little cape, as I wanted the servants not to be sure of my rank, and thus willing to chat with me. But the muslin I had chosen now clung to my back like a damp rag. I was sure I looked a sight. I took out the small mirror I carried in my purse and surveyed the damage. My hair was plastered to my forehead beneath my straw hat, and my face was as red as a beetroot. Thank heavens I wasn’t coming to call on Mrs. Mainwaring herself. I’d have to make sure I slipped through grounds and arrived at the servants’ entrance unseen or I would find myself summarily ejected.

I discovered a small gate in the wall and slipped in through it, glad I hadn’t had to draw attention to myself by opening those impressive wrought-iron affairs. I hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound of footsteps on the path. There was the nursemaid coming toward me, in a crisply starched gray-and-white uniform, pushing the baby carriage. She nodded to me, looking unsure as to who I might be and what I was doing there.

“If you’ve come to see the mistress, I’m afraid she’s out,” she said. I could see her analyzing my outfit and noticing my sweaty and unkempt appearance.

“No, I’ve come to talk with the servants,” I said. “About a young woman who worked here until recently. Maureen O’Byrne. Did you know her?”

“No, I didn’t, I’m afraid,” she said. “I haven’t been here long. I was only hired after the baby came.”

I had drawn level with her now and looked into the carriage. A beautiful child, probably two or three months old, lay asleep on a pale-blue, silk pillow. He had a little fuzz of red-gold hair and long dark lashes curled across his cheeks.

“What a lovely baby,” I said. “It’s a boy, is it?”

“That’s right. A little boy, ma’am.”

“Is it their first?” I asked, thinking that Mrs. Mainwaring was no longer in the first flush of youth.

“It is. The master’s pleased to have an heir at last, I can tell you.”

“And Mrs. Mainwaring? She must be pleased too, after waiting so long.”

The nursemaid gave me a sideways look. “She’s not exactly the motherly kind, if you know what I mean. Ladies from her class, they’re not raised to take much interest in their children, are they? Thank heavens for people like us, or the little mites would get no love and affection at all.”

I noted she had decided that I was not the same rank as the Mainwarings. I was “people like us.” That would be useful when it came to chatting with the other servants.