Mistakes and Remedies #2
“That is not possible, John.” Margaret’s eyes were sad in the dim light of the carriage. “She said he is already married.”
His stomach dropped. A married man. His sister was having an illicit affair with a married man, had gotten herself in the family way —all under his and his mother’s nose.
He wanted to roar or to hit something. Instead he clenched his jaw and looked away from Margaret.
She was the bearer of the news; however, she did not deserve to be the recipient of his anger. That was best reserved for Fanny.
The carriage came to a halt and, after putting on his jacket, he quickly stepped out, holding out his hand to assist Margaret in her descent.
Once on the ground, she continued to hold his hand; indeed, she clenched it tighter as they made their way through the quiet, dimly lit streets of Princeton.
Gas lights were sparse in this area. All the decent folk were well asleep by now, preparing for the early morning whistle in a few hours.
A baby cried in the distance, reminding him why they were there.
“The Higginses’ house is just up this way.
” She pointed with the hand not wrapped in his.
“See the light in the window? That’s their home.
They leave the light on for Bessy. She sleeps on and off all day long.
When she is awake, she is reading the bible, preparing for her journey through the Heavenly Gates. ”
“Will it be soon?” he asked softly.
She nodded and glanced up at him before stopping outside the Higginses’ home. “It is the fluff in her lungs. That was why I asked you about the installation of a wheel in your mill.”
He nodded, remembering that conversation.
Margaret had been particularly angry that evening.
She had come from Princeton just in time to share a pot of tea after his lessons with her father.
John had not understood her curiosity at the time, or her fury, but now it made sense. The fluff would kill her friend.
“Perhaps you should step around the corner?” she suggested. “I have no fear of Mr. Higgins’ silence and respect for privacy in this matter, but perhaps it would be better if he did not know it was your family.”
He nodded, reluctantly letting go of her hand. Did she even realize what comfort that simple gesture had given him?
He stepped around the corner, out of sight but well within hearing distance.
Margaret thought she was safe in Princeton, but John was not as confident.
He heard her lightly rap on the door and some shuffling inside the thin walls of the house.
Soon the door was opened and, after Margaret greeted Higgins, she quickly explained her appearance at such a late hour.
“A midwife?” Higgins’ voice sounded incredulous. “Why would ye be needin’ ‘er, lass?”
“Someone I know came to seek help with a…difficult situation…this afternoon and did not arrive home as expected. The family is worried.”
“As they should be.” Higgins snorted.
“Please, Nicholas. Do you know of such a woman?”
There was a long pause. John held his breath. What if Fanny wasn’t there? What if she had run away to London or elsewhere?
“Aye, I know of the one ye be needin’. She be a gypsy woman an’ calls ‘erself Vadoma. She ain’t too nice, Margaret, but she be the one ye be needin’.”
“Where might I find her?”
“Ye want me to go with ye?”
“No.”
“Stubborn lass!” After a small pause, Higgins continued. “Ye go to the end of the row and turn right. She puts up in the green house about four doors down on yer right.”
“Thank you. I will be here to see Bessy in the morning, but send Mary if I’m needed sooner.”
“Aye.” His voice had softened to a whisper. “My Bess ‘as ‘ad a ro’en day. It won’t be too long now.”
Higgins sigh was so heavy John thought he felt it ten feet away, where he stood.
“Ye might be needin’ me name, or she won’t tell ye nothin’,” Higgins added.
“I’ll tell her I spoke with you.”
Margaret’s dress rustled, and then the Higgins’ door clicked shut.
A moment later, Margaret came around the corner and joined John.
Without a word, she gave him a quick glance, and together they headed down the dirt path.
John didn’t question, he just followed, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble.
Once they reached the end of the row of houses, they turned to the right and continued to hurry toward the green house Higgins had mentioned.
It was hard to miss. Painted a bright green, the little shack had lights shining through the windows.
Margaret rushed ahead and, with a quick glance his direction, knocked on the door.
It took a bit of time, but a haggard old crone, the vision of what John would expect a gypsy to look like, finally opened the door a crack.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“My name is Margaret. Are you Vadoma?”
“Who sent you?”
“Nicholas Higgins.”
The gypsy opened her door a bit wider. “What do you want?” She caught sight of John and then said snidely, “Oh, well, I reckon yer just another couple got themselves in a mess coming to Vadoma to fix it.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head.
“Well, I’m full up tonight. You come back tomorrow. ”
John stuck his foot across the threshold, preventing her from shutting the door in their face. “We are looking for—”
“My friend,” Margaret interrupted. She touched his hand, and he stepped back. “Tall, pretty blonde girl, about my age.”
“Why?” Vadoma asked.
“Why am I looking for her?” Margaret asked. “Because she is missing, and I think she may have come here.”
“Why?”
Margaret sighed and, with a roll of her eyes, she reached to open her reticule.
John stalled Margaret’s hand, understanding Vadoma required some coins to answer. He reached in his own coat pocket and then placed some money into the gypsy’s hand.
“I might have seen ‘er,” Vadoma answered, after turning the coins in her hand.
A woman moaned in pain behind Vadoma, and Margaret moved forward to go through the door. Vadoma blocked her.
“Is she here?” Margaret demanded.
The gypsy looked at John for more money. A child began to wail inside the small house. He handed her two more coins. “That is all I have.”
Vadoma roughly grabbed Margaret’s arm and dragged her through the door. She pointed a gnarled finger at him as he tried to follow. “No men. It’s the fault of yer kind that I have a house full of women and the foundling homes are full.” She slammed the door in his face.
Margaret pulled out a handkerchief to cover her nose.
The unmistakable scent of blood permeated the hot, stuffy air of the small house.
Indeed, this was not a true house but rather just a large, open room with cots lining the walls, all of them filled with women in various stages of childbirth and the aftermath.
The sound of grunting and crying came from behind the single door in the room, a closed door.
Margaret’s stomach tightened and tears burned her eyes.
These poor women! Margaret had to find Fanny and make certain she was all right.
“Where is she?” Margaret asked.
“This way.” Vadoma pointed to a far and completely darkened corner.
Margaret hurried over, refusing to look at the faces of the women Vadoma was helping, but saying a quick prayer for all of them. How horrible to find oneself in a situation where you must hide a child. Fanny was lying quietly in the far corner cot.
“Fanny?” Margaret touched her hand. “Fanny!” She roughly shook her.
“She ain’t waking up anytime soon,” Vadoma said.
“Is she dead?” Margaret sputtered. “Have you killed her?” She shook Fanny harder. “Fanny!”
“She ain’t dead.” Vadoma stood behind Margaret, hands on her skinny hips. “She’s loud.”
“What? Loud? She is unconscious!”
“She were loud. Were hysterical.” Vadoma shook her head, her thin, stringy gray hairs hitting her in the face. “I gave her naught but a sleepin’ draught.” Vadoma peered closer at Fanny. “She were too worked up to do nothin’ else to ‘er.”
Margaret was about to ask what else Vadoma would do to Fanny when a woman behind the closed door, clearly in pain, called plaintively for her.
Vadoma waved Margaret out of her way. “You take ‘er home. I cannot abide a cryin’ and whinin’ girl.”
Margaret followed Vadoma to the closed door. “But what is she to do now?”
“Bring ‘er back when she knows fer sure what she plans.” Vadoma turned to Margaret. “You be a fine-looking girl. Don’t be lettin’ that man out there touch you without a wedding first. Look ‘round this room.” She pointed her finger from bed to bed.
“None of them were smart enough to fight temptation. You be smart.”
With those parting words, Vadoma went through the closed door and slammed it behind her.
It took a moment for Margaret to regain her wits and realize she would need help getting Fanny out of the house. She rushed outside to find John pacing just beyond the front door. He stopped the moment he spotted her.
“Fanny is fine,” Margaret assured him. “She’s sleeping. Go fetch the carriage. You will need to carry her out.”
“Has the deed been done?”
She rested her hand on his arm. “No. We shall talk when we get her away from this place of misery.” With a soft squeeze to his forearm, she went back inside to get Fanny ready for her removal.
Resolution
John managed to carry Fanny from inside the midwife’s home and into the carriage, despite several women spitting on him and others calling him vulgar names.
They seemed to think him responsible for his sister’s condition.
She was clad only in her dressing gown, but Margaret was able to find Fanny’s dress and reticule stashed under the bed.
How could his sister have thought she could find aid in such an establishment?