Page 32 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

Maggie caught her exchanging a glance with Charlotte; Adelaide smothered a smile, while Charlotte gave her a daughter a pointedly patient look, and in that instant, it was as if the scales had fallen from Maggie’s eyes and she could see everything so terribly clearly. She saw how tawdry the paper looked, badly milled and smelling of cheap scent, like something one of the girls at Miss Jessie’s would have used to write a love note! How had she not realized?

Sitting there, frozen in place, she felt as if she were right back in Mrs. Stein’s morning room on Millionaire’s Avenue, taking tea with half a dozen ladies who, just like Adelaide, had been hiding their smiles. Theiramusement. And while Adelaide might be more kindly disposed toward her than those womenhad been, Maggie felt her completeothernessyet again. She hadn’t been like those women, and she wasn’t like Adelaide, either, or any of the Browns. She wasn’t their equal, and maybe she wasn’t even their friend.

Once again, she realized numbly, she was nothing more than an object of charity. Kinder charity perhaps, and better meant, but still charity nonetheless. It all seemed so suddenly, dazzlingly obvious—the invitations, the interest, the passionate way they argued about helping those beneath them—why,shewas one of those poor souls! Why hadn’t she seen it before? She’d told them herself, hadn’t she, about her humble beginnings? Why had she thought they would ever see her differently?

Stupidly, she’d thought they’d respected her for those humble origins. Looked up to her, even, for possessing the life experience they did not. Now she realized she was nothing more than a lamentable act of charity, a worthy exercise in progressivism.

“You’ve been very quiet,” Philip remarked, taking her arm as they walked in to supper. “Thank you for my handkerchiefs?—”

Maggie thought of the cheap cotton handkerchiefs she’d bought both Philip and his father, elevating them only a little by embroidering their initials on one corner, and felt a wave of humiliation when she considered the positive luxuriousness of all the other gifts. The handkerchiefs had cost fifty cents at the corner shop.

“Don’t,” she whispered, and could say no more.

“Maggie…” Philip drew her aside in the hallway while the others went into the dining room. His handsome face was furrowed with concern, his dark eyes shadowed as he turned to face her. Everything about him was so kind and lovely, Maggie thought despairingly, and yet all he felt for her was charity.

Charity! She despised it. Despised when she felt it directed toward her, a poisoned arrow of piety aimed right at her heart. Charity was, she thought bitterly, just another form of pity, which was another form of violence. A way to make someone feel incapable and inferior, even if that wasn’t the intent.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Maggie replied in little more than a whisper. She knew she would not be able to explain; he wouldn’t understand how she could possibly resent his and his family’s kindness—and, in truth, howcouldshe? They’d been so very generous, from the genuine goodness of their hearts, and she couldn’t fault it, even if she wished things were different. That they were—or, really, that she was.

Philip laid his hand on her arm. “Something is wrong,” he stated in a low voice. “Please, won’t you tell me what it is?”

Maggie stared off into the distance, knowing he wouldn’t let the matter go. From the dining room, she heard the sounds of chairs being pulled out, the low murmur of voices. The others would wonder where they were, and she did not want to cause a scene, or even thepossibilityof a scene.

“It’s only…” she tried to explain haltingly, each word coming with difficulty and reluctance, “I didn’t realize until today that… that your family has been so kind to me…” She faltered, and he frowned.

“Maggie? I don’t understand?—”

“Only as an act ofcharity!” Maggie burst out. “I thought we were friends.Equals. But with the presents—how extravagant they were—and mine—” She shook her head, knowing how jumbled her thoughts were. Philip was still frowning in confusion. “I realized I’m just… I’m like a patient in the hospital who can’t pay her bill,” she told him. The words tumbled out now, in a torrent of emotion. “Or I’m like one of the workers you go on about, who needs better wages. You feel sorry for them,and you want to help them, but you wouldn’t consider them either a friend or an equal. They’re just… someone to feel sorry for. Someone to help.”

Philip was silent, absorbing what she’d said, and wretchedly, Maggie made herself continue. “I know it might not make sense to you. An act of charity is a kindness, a goodness, and who am I to rail against it? And you’ve all been kinder to me than many have before, and I am really so grateful for the opportunities,allof them. I don’t want you to think that I’m not. But…” She swallowed hard. “I thought I’d finished with begging for scraps off someone else’s table. I thought I’d finished with… with feelingless than, simply because I wasn’t born in a house like this, and I can’t afford a decent timepiece, and I don’t know how to play the minister’s cat!”

The words burst out of her, and she let out a trembling laugh, knowing none of it made sense. How could she explain to Philip what she wasn’t sure she understood herself? Maybe her indignation and hurt were simply the remnants of her old ambition—the desire to be better, higher, or at least beseenas such. She couldn’t ever seem to shake that feeling, as much as she thought she had. As much as she wanted to.

“Maggie, is that what you really think?” Philip asked, and he sounded both amused and exasperated. “That you’re like some… somefoundlingto us? We’re fond of you, you know, all of us, and…” He paused, his eyes darkening. “I, especially. If we are kind to you, it is not because of mere charity, I assure you.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers skimming her cheek. “Are your circumstances more reduced than ours? Assuredly. Should we pretend that is not the case, when we know we can give you good things, when wewantto, and it gives us pleasure, as well?” He shook his head slightly, smiling, while Maggie stared at him in confusion. She knew what he said made sense, but what she had said made sense, too.

‘But…” she began, shaking her head.

“You little fool,” he murmured and then he bent and kissed her right on the lips, so swiftly she almost thought she’d imagined it, before taking her arm and escorting her in to dinner.

CHAPTER 18

January 1894

“Ah, you’ve come to join our festivities!”

Miss Jessie, wearing a beautiful dress of pale gray silk, her hair dressed elegantly, opened the door wider for Maggie to come into the parlor house, her smile a little cool but hopefully genuine. It was the middle of January, the day of Jenny’s wedding.

Maggie was wearing a dress fashioned from the green silk the Browns had given her, and while she’d felt smart, she knew she paled in comparison to the parlor house madam’s loveliness. Her stomach squirmed with a jealousy she knew she had no right to feel. She’d left this world behind, Brendan included, when she’d chosen to train as a nurse.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told Miss Jessie. In truth, it had been difficult to get the afternoon off. She’d had to switch with another trainee nurse, Marybeth,andagree to roll several dozen bandages that Marybeth had been tasked with. She was also behind in laundry and mending as well as her own studies, and could have used the afternoon to catch up, but she wanted to see Jenny… andBrendan.

It was perverse, Maggie had reflected, how she could not seem to get the man out of her mind. When everything was meant to be settled between them, when she’d made it so, her heart, contrary vessel that it was, suddenly decided to feel all sorts of inconvenient things, including this corrosive jealousy.

She smiled at Miss Jessie as they walked together in the drawing room, which now sported all the sofas and chairs in the place arranged into rows for the ceremony.

“How have you been, Jessamine?” she asked. She realized she didn’t want to call her Miss Jessie like she was her employee, because she wasn’t anymore.