Delaney. Part XIV

Delaney heads to breakfast. More than an empty stomach she carries a vacuous cavity in her soul. Although most of the boys have warmed to her since gaining the reputation of one raised by prostitutes, Adrienne was a much-needed companion. Now she is gone, and the ache of her loneliness has become acute once again.

“There you are lad.” Brother Doyle stops her in the hall. “I have an assignment for you.”

“But brother, I don’t want to be late again for breakfast.” Delaney is hyper-concerned about being tardy. She’s not been thrashed for it yet and she’d like to keep it that way.

“Not to worry. You’ll get a meal far grander than what you’ll eat here. Eric is sick today. He is promised as helper to a gardener. And at a very fine household. The gardener came just now to fetch him, but he is too sick to get out of bed. I’ll let Father Fitzpatrick know why you’re not at breakfast and collect any assignments from Brother Michael for your schooling. Now, come with me.”

Brother Doyle begins walking toward the back door as Delaney pauses in the dark hallway.

“Come along now.” He insists and the child follows him down the hall and through the kitchen. Just outside the rear entrance stands an unsmiling man in dirty coveralls and wearing a wide-brim hat.

“Where is the boy?” The man says when he sees Delaney.

“I’m afraid Eric is ill today. This is Delaney. Delaney, this is Mr. Byrne. You do what he tells you.”

“Not so big, is he? S’pose I must teach this one from the start what must be done. Would’ve preferred t’other boy. He’s been trained in what’s to be done.”

“Can’t be helped, Mr. Byrne. Delaney is your assistant for today.”

The man humphs and Brother Doyle pulls Mr. Byrne close. “Have a care sir.” He whispers. “The boy grew up in the brothel at Dunleer. He’s having a hard time with the other boys. Being away from the Friary may do some good.”

Mr. Byrne returns a harsh look, as if to say, “that’s no concern of mine,” then heads toward a large brown mare with Delaney following on his heels. The man lifts her up and places her in front of the saddle then mounts and clicks the beast into motion.

The journey beyond Drogheda along a country road surrounded by open fields brings Delaney back to that early morning trip to the Ryan’s cottage. She wonders what fateful encounter she may have this day, hoping it doesn’t end as poorly. Unconsciously she pulls on her sleeve to be sure it is all the way to her wrist.

After a time, they enter a forested area and come upon a wrought iron sign held up by two brick pillars on either side. The sign reads, Townley Hall, and they pass under it and onto a dirt lane.

Delaney watches with wonder as they emerge from the trees and into a wide-open space looking upon a spectacular estate. She has never seen a more stunning building – not comparing a whit to the convent, nor the Friary, nor even the five-story Murder Factory. Nothing compares with the beauty of Townley Hall. A grey stone manor house set off by a large reflecting pool and boasting two perfect rows of glorious windows each holding 12 square panes which reflect the rising sun into squinting eyes and giving the home an almost celestial quality.

Delaney can hear herself utter the word, “beautiful,” but she does not remember intending to speak it aloud. Even the tool shed they saunter up to is beautiful; a stone pillared structure a miniature imitation the grand home itself.

“Cook will have set some food at the workbench for ye. Eat it quickly while I collect some tools. I’ll put ye to work pulling weeds in the house gardens. Should be easy enough.”

On the bench are two slices of cantaloupe, a mound of cottage cheese, a link of sausage and hunk of fresh bread. Delaney wastes no time in consuming a meal which will stick in her memory as the best breakfast of her life up to now. She fears the collecting of tools will be completed too quickly and she’ll be whisked away before finishing everything morsel on the plate. And before the food has a chance to reach her stomach the plate is cleared, and Mr. Byrne has loaded the horse.

“Let’s be going.” He tells her and lifts her with one great swoop onto the brown mare as they head toward the magnificent manor.

****

“Gracious Mother of God,” Mary Eunice says under her breath as Brother O’Brien pulls the horse and cart with his two charges up to the convent.

“Brother O’Brien,” she shouts rushing out to meet him. “How does the child fare? Is all well?”

“Yes, Sister. All is well. Delaney is getting on. Finding her way among the boys.”

Adrienne listens to this exchange and is disoriented at the reference to Delaney as a “her.”

“Come in, come in, Brother. And bring your friends. We shall feed you and hear what news you have.”

“Thank you, Sister. This is Magdalene and her young friend Adrienne. We shall be glad of your hospitality.”

The three are ushered into a private dining room in which the Sisters take their meals before tending to the girls’ who eat in the gymnasium. Sister Shannon is just cleaning up the dishes when they enter.

“See what breakfast we can find for our guests, Sister.” Mary Eunice says, then invites the guests to have a seat. It is only now that the nun can see Magdalene is holding the elbow of Brother O’Brien and staring blank-eyed straight in front of her, or that the dark-skinned child has two clubbed feet and makes her way with crutches.

“Thank you, Sister.” Magdalene offers.

****

At the Friary, Father Fitzpatrick is speaking to Mr. Murphey who is standing at the front door with three guards armed with batons.

“No, Mr. Murphey,” Fitzpatrick is saying, “we’re a men’s community. We don’t have women here.”

“I know you don’t have women, sir!” Murphey says with exasperation. “I’m talking about fugitives. A woman and a girl.”

“Your men are welcome to search the place,” he tells him, “There are no such fugitives here.” And Mr. Murphey nods to the guards who push their way into the Friary.

“The people at the dock said that the escapees, a blind woman and a crippled girl, got into a carriage with a Franciscan Friar yesterday.”

“Well,” says Father Fitzpatrick, “that would’ve been Brother O’Brien. He returned to us yesterday from a trip to England which was cut short. But he’s not here at the moment. And, as I told you, we have no fugitives here as your men will soon find out.”

When the guards return empty-handed, Mr. Murphey says with contempt, “Tell Brother O’Brien to come to my office at the Drogheda Care Home at once. I would like to know where the blind woman and the girl got out of his carriage. Our dogs lost their scent. It’s not safe for them to be wandering about and we have been tasked with their care.”

“Of course, Mr. Murphey. Good day to you.”

Out in the yard, Frank has wandered to see what kind of mischief he can enjoy before class begins. He is tossing pebbles at a wagon with the words, “Drogheda Care Home” written across the side. He is trying to hit the letter “O” in the center when Mr. Murphey and his men approach.

“Quit that you dirty gossoon.” Murphey barks, kicking gravel at Frank before jumping onto a bench at the front of the wagon.

“You lookin’ for the cripple?” Frank says with wry smile, and Murphey turns to him angrily.

“What do you know about the girl?”

“Oh, only that she was here yesterday, though I haven’t seen her today.”

“That lyin’ bastard,” Murphey slurs. “What about the blind women?”

“Don’t know about no blind woman, sir” Frank says. “Just a cripple girl. She was here at lunch yesterday.”

****

In the convent dining room Brother O’Brien tells Mary Eunice and Sister Shannon about the predicament now faced by Magdalene and Adrienne.

“I don’t suppose the guards at the Murder Factory will come here to Dunleer looking for them. Not anytime soon. But they can’t stay here long. When shipping resumes to England we’ll need to see them off.”

“Our families are in England, Sister.” Magdalene offers. “In London. We hope to return there.”

“And how did you come to be placed at the Murder Factory in Drogheda?” Sister Shannon asks.

“We don’t know it by that name in England. It’s just that my family was under the impression that I’d be well cared for in such a place. Trained for gainful employment. My family paid a goodly sum for my welfare and training. And Adrienne is the daughter of one of our servants. Her father begged for her to accompany me and also learn some trade. The families hoped we might keep each other company and return to London in a year or so, equipped with valuable skills.”

“A wretched business those Murder Factories,” Sister Mary Eunice says. “Families pay up front for their care and then the owner collects the scrip from your labor. I don’t know of any who ever go back to their families.”

“Sister,” says O’Brien. “We’d be grateful if you could look after them until passage to England opens up. If it does not open officially, the English men who helped them escape spoke of hiring a boat.”

“Certainly, Brother.” Mary Eunice says. Then turning to Magdalene and Adrienne, “You ladies are welcome here as long as you like.

“Sister Shannon. Show Adrienne to the girl’s dorm. She can have Delaney’s bunk. And make up a bed in the room you share with Sister Julian for Magdalene.”

“Yes, Sister.” Shannon says and allows Magdalene to grasp her elbow with Adrienne following behind as she leads them to their rooms.

“Now, Brother; the child. Tell me how the child fares.” Mary Eunice is famished for word of Delaney.

“After I received your note, I wondered if this new arrival might be the infant I examined here. When I saw the markings on her arm and heard directly from the girl her story, I could see the difficult position you faced.”

“And is she well, Brother? Is she well?”

“I only returned from England yesterday, but she appears to be fine.” At this Mary Eunice sits back in her chair, some sort of weight having been lifted from her heart. She slouches in relaxation, as though she might drift off to sleep after many wakeful nights.

“Sister. I had opportunity to examine the markings. They are larger, more readable than when the child was an infant.” Mary Eunice sits upright again as he fishes a paper from his pocket.

“The translation I worked out is imperfect. There is a cadence to druidic words which is hard to replicate in English. It is some sort of prophesy. Or a curse depending on your view of things. I had to guess at a couple of the runes, but so far as I can make out, this is how it translates:

In a house of murder, grows her wealth
In the darkness blooms her cunning
The smell of Blackthorn upon the goddess
Cultivate her fate and prosper, poison it and be destroyed

“How do you understand the meaning, Brother?” She asks, afraid of his answer.

“I can’t be sure, Sister. The words ‘grows,’ ‘blooms,’ ‘Blackthorn,’ ‘cultivate and ‘poison’ are all earthy references as is common for druidic folk. They will likely believe the girl to be some sort of nature goddess. If I were to guess, I’d say they believe she is destined to gain some sort of fortune from a Murder Factory, and that those who support this prophesy will prosper and those who stand against it will be destroyed.”

****

At Townley Hall an attractive, middle-aged woman is taking her breakfast on the patio while Delaney kneels in the garden nearby.

“Byrne,” she calls to the gardener. “That’s not Eric. Who is the child in the garden?”

“Eric was sick ma’am.” He says. “Name’s Delaney.”

The woman watches the child for a while.

“Delicate boy, is he not?”

“Yes, ma’am. The Brother tells me he’s had a hard life. Grew up in the brothel at Dunleer.”

“How tragic.” She says mournfully. “Such a finely featured and kindly looking child.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

At this point Mr. Cosgrove emerges through large glass doors and steps onto the patio.

“Off to work dear?” She says as he leans down to kiss her cheek.

“Murphey better come up with something about those escapees from yesterday,” he says. Then he adds looking at the child in the house gardens, “Where’s Eric?”

“Eric’s sick today dear. That’s the new boy. Delaney.”