Page 17 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

Maggie nodded jerkily, and then, sensing she’d been dismissed, she rose from her seat and walked out of the room, her head held high even as her heart felt as if it were plummeting toward her toes.

Upstairs, she paused by Jenny’s room, forcing away the swirling worries about her future when she saw the girl was awake.

“Jenny.” Maggie came toward her, her hands outstretched. “I’m glad to see you looking better.”

Jenny blinked at her sleepily, her face troubled. “What happened? I’m awful thirsty.”

“Let me get you a drink of water.” Maggie fetched her a glass, and then sat by her bed, guiding her hand to help her take a few sips.

“You’re so kind to me, Miss Maggie.” Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. “I fell, didn’t I? On the stairs…?”

Maggie nodded. She suspected Jenny’s fall had been more intentional than accidental, but there was no need to talk about that now. “We were so worried for you, Jenny,” she said gently.

The girl bit her lip. “And… the baby…?” Her lips trembled as she tried to smile. “I know I was in that way, Miss Maggie. It was as plain as the nose on my face.”

“You lost the baby, Jenny,” Maggie said gently. “A doctor came and… dealt with it.”

Jenny nodded, her head bowed, her shoulders sagging with relief, but then she put her hands up to her face and burst into tears.

“Oh, Jenny.Jenny.” Maggie hugged her clumsily, not wanting to hurt her, her heart aching for the poor child.

“Oh, I know it’s for the best,” Jenny said on a sniff. “I know that full well. It was… it was what I… Well, never mind.” She wiped her streaming eyes. “But I know that poor little mite didn’t deserve to die. It hadn’t done a thing wrong. And I would have loved it, you know, I really would have, the way no one ever loved me, but I…” She shook her head, dissolving into tears again, while Maggie took her into her arms.

“Oh Jenny,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.Sosorry. But it’s going to be all right now. You’ll recover, and…” She hesitated, wondering despondently what real hope she could offer the girl. She’d recover so she could be used again and again, and maybe even fall pregnant once more with an unwanted, fatherless child? It was all so utterly, unbearably hopeless. “It’ll be all right,” she said again, knowing how hollow the words were, and suspecting Jenny knew it, too.

“And Miss Jessie?” she asked anxiously. “She’s going to let me stay here and recover? I bet I can get back on my feet in a couple of days?—”

Maggie couldn’t hide her horror at this notion. “Jenny, that’s simply not possible,” she cried. “We can ask Dr. Brown, but I should think it will be some weeks, maybe months, before you can…” She hesitated again, hating that they even had to talkabout this. That this was poor Jenny’s only choice. “Get back to work,” she finished on a whisper.

Jenny was already shaking her head. “Miss Jessie won’t allow that,” she stated with decision. “You’ve taken such good care of me, Miss Maggie, and you watch, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two, I swear.”

“Wait until Dr. Brown comes, in three days,” she urged. “You… you wouldn’t want to do anything that would… jeopardize… yourfuture.”

“I’ll be all right,” Jenny insisted stubbornly, but she was already looking pale again, and patting her shoulder, Maggie told her to rest.

“I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while,” she promised. “But for now, Jenny, rest up. You need your strength.”

Although she ached with tiredness, Maggie knew the other girls were starting to stir. She went into their rooms, one by one, and picked up the discarded clothes as she always did, but her heart felt heavy, every action a burden she couldn’t bear. She would be glad to leave this place, she realized, if only she could find a way to do it.

“Is Jenny all right?” Emma Mae asked sleepily as she sat up and stretched.

“She will be,” Maggie replied. She couldn’t bear to say—or promise—anything else.

It wasn’t until that evening, when the girls were entertaining and Danny and her da were playing checkers with bottle caps out on the back porch, that Maggie was able to speak to them about their future.

“We can’t afford to stay here any longer, I’m afraid,” she stated as briskly as she could. “Not at eighteen dollars a week for the three of us, at any rate.”

“Eighteen dollars!” Her father’s jaw dropped. “Surely Miss Jessie isn’t asking that much? She always let me sleep here without me paying so much as a penny.”

“Well, things have changed,” Maggie replied rather grimly.

“Aw, now, Mags, what have you done?” Danny demanded. “You’ve gotten on the wrong side of Miss Jessie, sure as sure. I know how you are.”

Maggie couldn’t help but notice her brother had rediscovered his Irish brogue since they’d reunited with their father. He’d taken on some of their father’s ways, too, she saw—how he lounged back in his chair, his legs spread wide, the jaunty angle of his cap, the easy way he viewed the world, like his own oyster. He’d had those leanings before, certainly, but their da’s influence hadn’t helped. That three-piece suit and bowler hat, never mind the attitude to accompany it, Maggie reflected resignedly, had remained unworn since they’d arrived in San Francisco. Her brother was back to his old tricks, just as she’d feared he would be.

“I didn’t do anything,” she told her brother and father, although she supposed that wasn’t strictly true. She’d had more time to consider the matter, and she was now quite sure the madam wanted her gone because she knew about her daughter. She never should have guessed about Evie, although surely she couldn’t be the only who knew, or at least suspected?

If Jessamine Conant had her way, Maggie thought, she would be.