“Are you still mad?” she asked Malloy.
“No,” he said, taking her up into his lap.
She smiled up at him beatifically. “I’m glad.”
L
ATER THAT EVENING, LONG AFTER MALLOY HAD GONE, Sarah and the girls were cleaning up the supper dishes when someone rang her bell. Maeve and Catherine went to answer it while Sarah dried her hands and removed her apron. She was already mentally taking inventory of her medical bag in preparation for going out on a delivery when she heard what sounded like a disturbance in the front room. She was already hurrying out when she heard Maeve say, “You can’t come in here!”
When Sarah reached the office, she saw that her visitors had already come in and were facing off with a defiant Maeve and a cowering Catherine, who clung to her skirts and gazed up at them in alarm.
“Mrs. Walker, what are you doing here?” Sarah demanded, quickly stepping between the woman and Maeve. She was only too aware that Jake stood behind the woman, frowning menacingly.
“I came to find Amy, and you’re the only one who knows where she is.”
“But I
don’t
know where she is, and I can’t help you, so I must ask you to leave.”
The woman jutted her chin out defiantly. “I ain’t going anyplace until you hear what I have to tell you.”
“Then
we
will leave and go straight to the police,” Sarah said, motioning for Maeve and Catherine to move in the direction of the front door, which still stood open.
“The police won’t help you none,” Mrs. Walker scoffed.
Luckily, Sarah remembered her advantage over Mrs. Walker. “If you think they’ll take your side because of the bribes you pay them, let me assure you that my father’s influence reaches all the way to the mayor and beyond. Closing down one house of ill repute in the city won’t cause much concern to anyone, unless of course you happen to be the owner.”
Jake made a threatening noise in his throat and took a step forward, but Mrs. Walker stopped him with an impatient gesture. Then she took a deep breath and lifted a hand to her head, as if she were suffering some sort of distress. “I . . . Mrs. Brandt, I didn’t come here to trade threats with you.”
“Why did you come, then?”
“To . . . I wanted to talk to you . . . about Amy.”
“There’s nothing you can tell me about her that I don’t already know.”
“That isn’t true. I think if you know the whole story, you’ll change your mind about helping her.”
“I doubt that.”
Mrs. Walker lifted her chin again. Her eyes were like chips of flint. “Then you shouldn’t be afraid to hear me out.”
“And if I refuse, will you have your man here force me to listen?” She gave Jake a meaningful glare that he returned with narrowed eyes.
“Jake, go out and wait in the carriage.”
“But—”
“Do as I say.”
With obvious reluctance, he turned and made his way outside, leaving the front door wide open behind him.
Sarah had no idea what Mrs. Walker intended to say to her, but she knew she didn’t want Catherine to hear it. “Maeve, would you take Catherine over to Mrs. Ellsworth’s for a little visit?”
“I can’t leave you here alone with her!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Maeve asked doubtfully.
Sarah turned to look at them. Catherine’s lower lip quivered. In another moment she was going to start crying. Sarah smiled reassuringly. “Wouldn’t you like to visit Mrs. Ellsworth? You haven’t seen her all day. Just for a few minutes. I’ll come and get you when our visitors leave. Go on, now.”
Maeve was even more reluctant than Jake had been, but she picked Catherine up and headed for the kitchen. They could go out the back way and Jake wouldn’t see them. Sarah was glad she’d thought of that.
Sarah turned back to her visitor expectantly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Mrs. Walker glanced around, apparently noticing her surroundings for the first time. She saw the two easy chairs Sarah had placed by the front window. “Could we sit down? It’s been a horrible day.”
Sarah didn’t want to encourage the woman to stay a moment longer than necessary, but a lifetime of training prevailed. “Of course,” she said, glad to hear that she sounded less than gracious, at least.
When they were seated, Mrs. Walker took a moment to study Sarah, as if trying to judge her mood or read her thoughts in some way. Finally, she said, “I know what you think of me, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?” Sarah asked. “Are you telling me you don’t really own a brothel where you force young women to sell themselves?”
To Sarah’s surprise, Mrs. Walker smiled. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t force them at all. I don’t have to. They come to me of their own free will, begging me to take them in.”
“How can you expect me to believe that?” Sarah asked, outraged.
“Because it’s true. I have girls knocking on my door every day. Maybe you don’t know what it’s like to be hungry and desperate, you being from a rich family and all, but there’s plenty of girls in the city who do. Poor girls, whose families have thrown them out because they can’t afford to feed them anymore. Or girls whose families died or whose husbands deserted them. If they’re lucky, they get a job in a factory or they try rolling cigars or making collars in their rooms for some sweatshop, but it ain’t long before they figure out they can’t afford to eat and keep a roof over their heads both on what they make. Maybe they say no the first time some man offers them a dollar to lift their skirts, but that’s more than they make in a week, and when the landlord tells them to pay up or get thrown into the street, that dollar starts to look pretty good.”
“I deliver babies all over the city. I know very well how difficult it is for a woman alone to survive,” Sarah said.
“Then you shouldn’t be surprised that the girls want to work for me instead of being out on the street with no one to protect them, in all weathers where anything can happen to them. I told you before, I take good care of my girls. Nobody beats them or robs them. They eat good and have a clean place to sleep. If I took all the girls who come begging, I’d have a hundred working for me. I have to turn girls away every day.”
“Then you shouldn’t miss Amy.”
Mrs. Walker stiffened. “You don’t know anything about her, or you wouldn’t say that.”
“I know she was desperate to get away from your house.”
“She was, but not for the reason you think.”
“What other reason did she need?”
“Girls leave my house for lots of reasons. Sometimes they go off with a customer who promised to set them up in style. Sometimes they get lured away to another house. Sometimes I throw them out because they steal from customers or the other girls or me. And sometimes they think they’re in love.”
“Amy said she hated what you made her do with the customers.”
“Of course she did. It’s what you wanted to hear, but that’s not the reason she wanted to leave.”
“What do you think the reason was?”
Mrs. Walker stared at Sarah for a long moment, studying her again. Then she said, “Let me tell you how Amy came to me in the first place. A man brought her.”
“What man?”
“A rich man. He’d been keeping her, and he was tired of her. She can be . . . disagreeable when she doesn’t get her way.”
Sarah had noticed this, but she didn’t respond.
“I don’t usually do favors for my clients, but this man . . . I didn’t want to refuse him, and he paid me well.”
“Did he know she was with child?”
“I don’t think she knew herself. If she did, she was stupid not to tell him, and Amy isn’t stupid. Foolish, yes, but not stupid.”
“When did you find out?”
“Not for a long time. She’s a plump girl and nobody noticed when she got a little plumper.”
“Why didn’t she let her protector know about the baby?”
“He didn’t want to hear from her, and we don’t encourage the girls to write letters. You can understand how much trouble that might cause. Besides, she was a whore. Why would he believe the baby was his?”
“How long has she been at your house?”
“Almost six months.”
“Then she would have been more than three months gone when she arrived at your place. The timing should convince him now.”
Mrs. Walker shrugged. “If he wanted to believe it, I suppose.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“Of course not. I make it a habit not to cause problems for my clients.”
“I guess that’s why Amy didn’t ask you to tell him when she did realize she was pregnant.”
Mrs. Walker sniffed in disgust. “If she’d told me, I could’ve taken care of it, but by the time I found out, it was too late. I had a doctor come see her, but he said she was too far gone and would probably die if he tried. I should’ve put her out then, the ungrateful little bitch, but I let her stay, out of the goodness of my heart.”
“And because some of your customers enjoyed being with a pregnant woman,” Sarah guessed.
Mrs. Walker’s brown eyes flashed, but she knew how to control her temper. “My girls have to earn their keep. I don’t run a charity.”
Sarah sighed. “Mrs. Walker, you promised to tell me something to change my mind about helping Amy, but you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have. I told you she had a baby to a rich man, or at least she’s going to try to make him believe that. She’s got some romantic notion he’s going to take her back or maybe even marry her. I don’t know what she’s got in her mind, but none of that will happen, I promise you. If she goes to this man with her story, he’ll . . . Well, I don’t know what he’ll do, but it won’t be good for Amy, I can tell you that.”
Sarah had a difficult time believing Mrs. Walker was so concerned about Amy that she’d come all the way over here to beg for Sarah’s help. “I’m guessing he won’t be too pleased with you, either, for letting her get out to cause him trouble. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s the real reason you want to get her back, so you can make sure he never finds out.”
“If I have reason to be afraid of him, Amy has even more. At least tell me where she is so I can talk to her. She’s confused now, but I can set her straight.”
“And if you can’t, Jake can carry her out bodily.”
“The way your people did?” Mrs. Walker countered.
“They weren’t my people.”
“Then who were they?”
“A group who helps rescue women from the streets. And before you ask, I’ll tell you that they’ve taken Amy to a safe place. I don’t know where it is, so I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to, and I don’t.”
“Where did you take the baby? Jake went back to that mission where he’d dropped you off, but they said the baby wasn’t there.”
“He’s with Amy now. I gave him to . . . to the people who helped her.”
“Who are these people? How do you know they don’t have a brothel of their own? Maybe they rescue whores to take them to their own place!”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Not as ridiculous as you might think. A good whore can earn a lot of money.”
“The people who rescued Amy are a legitimate charity. It’s called Rahab’s Daughters.”
“Rahab,” Mrs. Walker mused. “That’s slick. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I wasn’t born in a whorehouse. I went to Sunday school in my time. Rahab the Harlot. She did all right for herself, if I remember.”
“Yes, she did, and Amy will, too, with Mrs. Van Orner’s help.”
“Whose help?” she asked sharply.
“Mrs. Van Orner. She runs Rahab’s Daughters. Maybe you’ve heard of her.”
“No, never,” Mrs. Walker said quickly, but Sarah could see she was lying.
She remembered what Amy had said about the girls in the brothel always talking about Mrs. Van Orner. Certainly, Mrs. Walker would have heard of her, too.
Mrs. Walker stood abruptly. “I should be going.”
Sarah did want her gone, but something in Mrs. Walker’s manner disturbed her. “You’ll never find Amy,” she tried. “And even if you do, she won’t go back.”
Mrs. Walker sniffed again. “Fat lot you know about whores, Mrs. Brandt. You should stick to midwiving.”
A slender figure suddenly appeared in the front doorway. “What’s going on here?” Mrs. Ellsworth demanded, striding determinedly into the room. “Are you all right, Mrs. Brandt?”
“Of course she’s all right,” Mrs. Walker said haughtily. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Mrs. Ellsworth looked the woman up and down with exaggerated disdain. “Because there’s no telling what somebody like you might get up to.”
Mrs. Walker flushed crimson, but more from fury than embarrassment, Sarah judged. She lifted her chin and stalked out, taking care to bump into Mrs. Ellsworth, making the older woman gasp with outrage.
“Just who does she think she is?” Mrs. Ellsworth demanded, color blooming in her wrinkled cheeks.
“She thinks she’s better than we are,” Sarah said. “Where are the girls?”
“I made them stay at my house.”
“You should’ve stayed there yourself.”
“I had to make sure you didn’t need help. When Maeve told me what was going on . . .” Mrs. Ellsworth shook her head in dismay.
Sarah’s first instinct was to remind her neighbor that an elderly woman wouldn’t be of much assistance if she really had been in danger, but then she remembered at least one time when Mrs. Ellsworth’s assistance had saved her life. “I appreciate your concern, but I wasn’t in any danger.”
“Is she really a madam?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked, going to close the front door. She stopped when she saw Maeve and Catherine coming up the front steps. “I told you girls to stay put!”
“We saw the carriage pulling away, so we knew it was all right to come home,” Maeve explained. “What did that awful woman say, Mrs. Brandt?”
“Nothing important,” Sarah said.
Catherine came running across the room and threw herself into Sarah’s arms. Sarah lifted the girl up. “There’s nothing to be frightened of, darling.”