Chapter 14
There was a message when Phillip arrived home reminding him of the meeting he was escorting Irene Littleman to the next afternoon.
He hadn’t given much thought to what he would do if someone confronted her and didn’t intend to.
He would muscle his way through, if necessary, but he wouldn’t be a fool about it either.
He rented a closed carriage at the local livery and asked how much it cost to stable a horse while he was there.
The price was well within what he could afford.
Now to find a horse. Maybe Mr. Turnbull could help him.
He navigated the city until he came to the Water Tavern. She must have been waiting for him to arrive because the door opened, and her man Thomas handed her inside the carriage. He walked to where Phillip sat.
“She’d better come back unharmed, Brown. I’ll see you pay if she don’t.”
Phillip tapped the reins, and the horse dutifully moved forward at a slow clop.
He didn’t need to be reminded that escorting Irene Littleman anywhere was dangerous business, not only from authorities who would be happy to see her out of her lair, but from competitors too, hoping to cut off the head of the Littleman empire.
He had several loaded pistols under his seat and a knife in each boot.
They arrived at the orphanage where the meeting was to take place, and he was suddenly glad of this duty, as Virginia Wiest stood at the door with her stepmother.
He had not seen her in several days, and she was looking serious and businesslike in her dark gray dress and black jacket.
Still beautiful beyond belief. He handed down Irene Littleman from the carriage, who wore unrestricted black other than a crimson bonnet, with dark netting over her face and matching gloves, trimmed with some yellow thread.
Both a gift from Virginia the previous winter.
“Mrs. Littleman. How good of you to come and wearing your lovely hat. This is Mrs. Wiest, my father’s wife. Nancy, this is Mrs. Littleman. Won’t you follow me?” Virginia said.
Phillip glanced up and down the street and handed the carriage horse off to one of the young boys who worked in the stables.
Leave it to Virginia to do her best to make a woman living on the edge of criminality, and certainly stepping over that line on many occasions, comfortable in a situation that would be wholly unique to her.
He glanced around one more time and spotted a large man in workman’s clothes, with a flopping hat pulled low, pushing his ears wide and covering his face for the most part.
Ah, Thomas had no intention of allowing Mrs. Littleman out of his sight.
Phillip raised his brows at the working man, who was watching Mrs. Littleman and Virginia step through the doorway.
The man glanced at Phillip and turned away.
Phillip followed the women up the steps to a room with a large table with twelve or so chairs around it.
Virginia seated herself beside Mrs. Littleman and had a staff member bring her coffee and a small plate of cakes.
Phillip stood against the wall behind Mrs. Littleman’s chair and listened as each person at the table was introduced.
He’d heard of or read about almost everyone assembled there.
Bank presidents, representatives to Congress, business leaders, and those from wealthy and influential Baltimore families were listening attentively to Nancy Wiest describe her time on the street with her two children.
The room was completely silent other than Mrs. Wiest’s soft words, as the occupants focused on what she said.
A few of the women wiped away a tear or two.
Virginia spoke next, outlining the ideas for a shelter for women and children to be established near the dock area where the need was the greatest. She spoke with authority and grace, looking at each person around the table, emphasizing the obligations of those gifted with finances to do good works.
A man handed out a sheet of paper to each attendee, and Virginia reviewed the plans and timeline to complete the shelter. She turned then to Mrs. Littleman.
“Our special guest today has firsthand knowledge from a child’s perspective of what a life is like without basic necessities such as a roof and regular meals.
And safety. Knowing that you can’t close your eyes for a night’s rest and not make yourself vulnerable to what darkness brings.
” Virginia turned to Mrs. Littleman. “Can you tell us a little about your experiences as a young girl living on the street?”
Littleman sat up straight in her chair, her face still covered by the dark veil of her hat. She cleared her throat and took a sip of tea. Phillip thought she may be nervous, but that was dispelled when she began to speak.
“My mother died when I was ten. Sylvia was seven, and Nonnie was five. It wasn’t long ‘til we were told to get out of the rooms my mother rented with her payday from washing clothes. She had took a cold that winter and coughed herself to death, it seemed. We didn’t have no relatives, never knew who my pa was.
At first, we stayed at a church at night and I begged for food during the day to feed my sisters.
“Then the minister caught me taking a coin from a woman who’d come to pray.
He didn’t like that none and told me and my sisters to get out.
From there, we slept on the street, in doorways, under a porch, or on a back stoop, if we didn’t get chased away.
It was mighty cold that winter, and Nonnie started to sniffle and be feverish.
I tried to stay away from the docks. My ma always said to stay away from there, that there was no good to be had there. ”
“But I didn’t have no choice, it seemed. I begged for coins or the stale bread at the bakery, but it wasn’t enough. I was turning eleven that December and looked a bit older.”
The room was silent, every face concentrating on Irene Littleman and her story. She took a sip of tea.
“You don’t have to go on if you don’t like, ma’am,” Virginia said.
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago. I did the best I could and don’t have no regrets.”
Virginia nodded, and Nancy Wiest reached over and grasped Littleman’s hand. Phillip thought she’d shake free, but Nancy smiled, and Littleman began again.
“I didn’t pay much attention to what the men did to me, although the first time was a shock.
I just cared about the coins and what I could buy with them.
We stayed in an abandoned dock building where a couple of men built a fire each night.
But Nonnie wasn’t getting better. Her little finger broke off in my hand when I tried to warm her one bitter-cold morning.
She died in my arms sometime in February.
A woman who was always around, never knew her name, wrapped her in canvas she stole from one of the shipping company’s sheds, and we threw her body in the bay, weighted down with stones.
“I didn’t want Sylvia to be doing what I was doing with the men.
I got her a job picking rope apart, but the dust made her cough.
We tried going to the better part of town that spring to see if we could work in a stable or a tavern, doing whatever needed done.
We’d just come out of a tavern, the owner having hired me for room and board and tips and said Sylvia could sleep with me near the fire overnight in the kitchens as long as she didn’t cause trouble.
I figured she could beg during the day, and between that and what I would earn, we could maybe get us a room somewhere of our own. ”
Littleman stopped and took a deep breath, her veil moving in front of her. She looked up then and surveyed the people at the table.
“But a wagon come by as we were leaving, and some barrels come loose and fell right down on Sylvia. She was dead. Don’t think she knew what happened.
I was glad. She’d had enough sorrow in her life.
People came a-rushing out to see what happened, and I just walked away.
I didn’t have no more canvas and didn’t know what else to do.
I picked a man’s pocket watch as I squeezed through the crowd. And that was that.”
Virginia took Mrs. Littleman’s other hand and held tight. Phillip could barely get his breath, thinking if that were he and Sarah if Uncle Patrick hadn’t been around. I didn’t have no more canvas . . .
“We appreciate you telling us about your early life. We’re deeply sorry for the loss of your mother and sisters.
You were incredibly brave and resourceful to keep your sisters together as long as you did.
Thank you for sharing this story, as I know it will help Mrs. Wiest and I raise the necessary funds to finance a shelter,” Virginia said.
Littleman stood and gazed around the room.
“I was a thief after my sisters died and still am. It’s all I knew, even though my mother would have never nicked a penny.
I’ve got enough money so I’ll never sleep in the cold again or feel the pangs of an empty belly.
Maybe if there’d been a shelter when I was eleven, I wouldn’t have grown up to break the law.
Don’t know for sure, but it’s something for you all to think about when you walk past a beggar on the street or take your children to see a hanging. ”
Littleman turned to the door and Phillip followed, oddly moved by this woman and her confessions and contradictions and, more importantly, her challenge.
Virginia was quiet on the trip home, pleased with the pledges they’d received, including a hastily scrawled note from Mrs. Littleman, delivered to her by one of the orphans after she had left.
But Virginia was still replaying all the things the woman had described.
She glanced at the note again. Will five thousand dollars be helpful?
If so, I’ll have the money delivered to you.