Page 28 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head. “You flatter me.”

“I don’t,” he insisted as he took her arm. “I assure you, Miss O’Halloran—Maggie, as you bid me to call you—I mean it.”

Maggie fell silent, having no idea how to respond. The evening had challenged and invigorated her in so many ways—the stimulating conversation, the way she’d spoken out, how she’d been treated as an equal even after she’d done so. It all felt overwhelming, as well as gratifying—and exciting.

As they walked along, she glanced at Philip, his dark hair swept back from his forehead, handsome profile slanted with moonlight, and she felt a tremor of—what? Not the heady yet uneasy sense of expectation she’d felt so often with Theo Stein, where she hadn’t truly known what she’d felt—or whathe’dfelt.

No, this was a far more comfortable sensation, one of satisfaction as well as friendship, respect as well as camaraderie. It was novel, andthatwas what was exciting—that after all her searching and striving, at last she’d arrived at a place where she could be honest and be listened to, that a man like Philip or a woman like Adelaide, elegant and educated, could listen to what she had to say and consider it seriously. She wasn’t a nonentityor an amusement, the way she had been even at the height of her business, the women who frequented her boutique seeing her as no more than a novelty.

“There’s a lecture on public sanitation at the Pacific Hall next week,” Philip told her as they drew near the nurses’ residence. “Adelaide and I were planning to attend. I wonder if you might like to join us?”

“It depends on whether I have any lectures at the hospital,” Maggie told him. “But I thank you kindly for the invitation. I’d like to attend if I may.”

“Good.” Philip smiled at her, his teeth flashing in the moonlight, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and then he tipped his hat as he stepped away from the door of the nurses’ residence. “Goodnight then, Maggie O’Halloran,” he said with a whimsical smile.

After bidding him goodnight, Maggie stood there, watching his dashing figure disappear into the darkness. She felt as if she’d touched another world tonight, a world she’d forgotten had existed, of a welcoming home and interesting conversation and the warm, admiring gaze of a handsome man.

Smiling faintly, Maggie turned to go inside.

CHAPTER 16

December 1893

“Maggie,a chroi!”

My heart, the endearment her father had always used. Maggie laughed a little tearfully as he embraced her, smelling of sweat and stale smoke and spirits, a combination that felt all too familiar, and yet her current life was a million miles away from it.

It had been over three months since she’d started the nursing program at the Children’s Hospital, and this was the first time she’d been able—or really, willing—to get away to visit her family… and Brendan, although as Maggie looked around when her father had released her, she realized she couldn’t see Brendan anywhere, and she did her best to quash a treacherous flicker of disappointment. There was no reason, she told herself, why he should seek her out.

“It’s been so long,” her father exclaimed, and Maggie gave an apologetic grimace. It wasn’t, she knew, that she hadn’twantedto see her father and brother, but more that with every passing day she’d spent at the hospital, her life back here among the dance halls and parlor houses of the Barbary Coast had felt likea distant dream she was unsure whether she wanted to revisit. She’dmeantto go, and yet with only one afternoon every two weeks off—and sometimes not even that—she’d struggled to find the time, as well as the will.

There had been so much else to do—her afternoons off were her only chance to see to any mending and the washing and any errands, and more recently, since her dinner with the Browns and Philip’s invitation to accompany him and his sister to a lecture, there had been far more pleasant entertainments to be enjoyed during those precious few free hours.

Philip and Adelaide had invited her to several other lectures, as well as a stroll through Golden Gate Park and dinner at the Cliff House, overlooking the city and the bay. Once a remote roadhouse for hopeful 49ers, it was now one of the city’s finest restaurants, and she, Philip and Adelaide had dined on baked lobster and the newly created dessert, peach melba, before taking the private train operated by the hotel owners back down into the city.

Maggie enjoyed both of their friendships, as well as the robust conversations they had about everything, for it was clear both Philip and Adeliade certainly enjoyed an argument. At the Cliff House, Adelaide had nearly sent her lobster flying off the table when she’d waved her fork to make a point about the importance of safety measures in the sweatshops.

“I know the sweatshops are firetraps,” Philip had replied with a faint smile on his handsome face, “but first you have to raise wages.” He’d turned to Maggie, one dark eyebrow arched. “Maggie, what doyouthink?”

Maggie still felt surprised every time either Philip or Adelaide asked her opinion and then waited for her answer, seeming so interested to know it. She hadn’t felt solistenedto in a long time, especially by those who were so clearly above her in station. But Philip and Adelaide never made her feel asif she was beneath them, something that gratified Maggie even as she recognized, rather wryly, that they both had a distant observer’s fascination for the hard life she’d lived before starting her nurse’s training, the conditions she’d faced.

“I think there shouldn’t be any sweatshops in the first place,” she’d told them both as she’d taken a bite of lobster, savoring the taste. “They’re unregulated in every regard, and as you’ve said, the conditions, as well as the wages, are dreadfulanduntenable, thanks to the whims of the owner who can do whatever he likes. Far better to have a proper factory where both wages and working conditions can meet a proper standard—and be approved and inspected.”

Besides her time with the Browns, Maggie had gotten to know some of the other trainee nurses. Although they were kept busy all day on the wards, and then lectures in the evening, there was still some time to sit together in the residence’s sitting room, studying their textbooks or sometimes even singing music hall tunes around the old, battered piano—Wilhemina, one of the nurses, was a wonderful pianist and could switch seamlessly to a respectable hymn when Miss Caldicot was in earshot. And although Maggie still felt a little set apart thanks to her humble background, her friendship with the Browns had elevated her in the other nurses’ eyes—some were impressed, others, Maggie suspected, envious. Wilhemina, at least, seemed to accept her as she was.

All in all, it had been a busy three months, exhausting but happy, and as glad as she was to see her family, returning to Montgomery Street felt, Maggie acknowledged, like slamming back down to hard earth. She could not suppress a pang of guilt as she embraced her brother, glancing around once more for Brendan, although, with a flash of disappointment, she couldn’t see him anywhere.

The last time they’d spoken properly had been before she’d started her training, when she’d thanked him for buying back her mother’s cameo and ring. Brendan had been curt, even dismissive, seeming almost annoyed that she was thanking him, or maybe that he’d bought them back at all. They’d parted company in a most unsatisfactory manner.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” her father remarked as he led her past the drawing room—now in use for entertaining guests since it was afternoon—and back to the kitchen. As Maggie walked down the hall, listening to the rumble of male voices and the answering trill of feminine laughter, often touched with desperation, she knew exactly why she hadn’t come to Montgomery Street before this—to avoid the glaring reminder of what this life had been like.

“Ah, Maggie, it’s good to see you, girl!” Mrs. Adams exclaimed as Maggie came into the kitchen. From the stove, where she was stirring a sauce, Evie gave her a sulky glare. Nothing had changed there, Maggie thought wryly, but she hadn’t expected it to. She should have made more of an effort with the girl, but it had been hard when every attempt she had made had been rebuffed.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Adams,” Maggie replied. “I do hope we’re not in your way.”

“Not at all!” the cook replied cheerfully. “Let me finish dressing this lamb and then I’ll put the kettle on. Keep stirring that sauce, Evie, my girl, and don’t let it curdle!” With an exasperated shake of her head, she bustled about her business.

“Drink?” her father asked, proffering his flask with a wink, and quickly, Maggie shook her head.