Judge Thee Not

Author’s Note

Every historical novel brings new research challenges and delights. Amesbury reference librarian Margie Walker continues to be helpful with whatever I ask her about local history, and I thank her. The Amesbury Carriage Museum provides local maps and details about daily life in a small industrial city of the time, not to mention period carriages I can touch and study. I also perused the Museum of Printing in Haverhill, Massachusetts, and consulted with Vincent Valentine at the Telephone Museum, Waltham, Massachusetts.

For this book I visited the Perkins School for the Blind, which was still in South Boston in 1889 and had not yet moved to Watertown. Research librarian Jennifer Arnott generously gave me a tour and access to the archives, including materials on the history of braille and several other articles about attitudes toward the blind in the second half of the nineteenth century. Having read the Laura Ingalls Wilder series several times as a child (and again as a parent), I discovered Mary Ingalls: The College Years by Marie Tschopp.

I referred to A Guide to Midwifery from 1870 for information about twin births of the era. Barbara Pouliot shared stories about the French-Canadian immigrant Marie Tremblay, her great-grandmother, who lived on Thompson Street in Amesbury and who gets a bit part in this book. The historical interpreter and author KB Inglee read the manuscript and alerted me to Pickering’s Women at Harvard College, who spent years cataloging the firmament.

I mention the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In 1889 it was still in Boston and hadn’t yet moved across the river to Cambridge.

One

I could smell contempt as soon as I entered the Amesbury post office.

At the front of the line, Mayme Settle raised her patrician nose and sniffed. I’d like to be helped by your assistant, if you don’t mind. She didn’t meet postmistress Bertie Winslow’s gaze.

I’d come into the postal facility to speak to my friend Bertie on this fine Sixth Month morning, but I paused, watching the encounter between her and the florid matron.

Miss Stillwell is occupied with other tasks, Mrs. Settle. Diminutive Bertie clasped her hands in front of her crisp shirtwaist. What can I help you with today?

I’ll return at another time. The woman lowered her voice to a threatening whisper. I do not support the likes of you, Miss Winslow, holding the position of public servant. She nearly spat the word likes.

As you wish, ma’am. Bertie smiled. Her face was framed by wisps of blond curls that always managed to escape her Newport knot, but her eyes were steely.

Her accuser turned with a rustle of tan silk taffeta, coming face-to-face with me. Ah. Miss Rose Carroll. More than a few years over the age of fifty, Mayme was taller than me by several inches, putting her close to six feet tall. She must have weighed half again as much as I did, too.

Good morning, Mayme.

Her lip curled at my use of her Christian name. I was accustomed to such a reaction from people not of my faith.

We met at the Ladies Circle several months ago. I smiled at her.

She gave a single nod and a faint smile. Yes, when you Quaker ladies came to assist in our spring clothing drive for the Little Orphans home. Despite her imperious manner, Mayme headed up a goodly number of charitable projects here in our busy mill and factory town. And you’re the midwife, as I recall.

I am.

Mayme inclined her head toward me. I’d watch out for that one. She’s a danger to all proper ladies.

Beyond her right side I spied Bertie mocking horror, her twinkling eyes wide and a hand over the O of her mouth.

It was a pleasure to see thee again, I said. I wish thee a lovely day.

To you as well. She swept past me and out the door.

No one else was in the office, so I approached the counter. My goodness, Bertie, why does she dislike thee so?

She rolled her eyes. She doesn’t approve that I live in the manner which suits me. And it suits me to reside with my beloved Sophie.

As well thee might, despite it being not precisely what others expect of a nice lady in her forties. I’d known about Bertie and Sophie’s living arrangement almost as long as I’d known Bertie herself. As a member of the Religious Society of Friends, I didn’t find fault with their love. We were all equal in God’s eyes. I knew a few elderly Quakers who did not extend our principle of equality to couples like Bertie and her sweetheart, but I did. And of course Mayme Settle’s views had plenty of company here in town.

She shrugged, letting out a decidedly unladylike snort. I think Mrs. Settle is afraid I will accost her or corrupt the children of our fine town.

I stifled a giggle. Watch out, here comes the bogeylady?

Exactly. The smile slid off her face. I hope she doesn’t create a ruckus with town officials.

Surely there has been talk before. Thee still retains thy position.

Yes, but you know Mrs. Settle. She’s a force of nature. I think she only recently learned of my inclinations. And if she sets her mind on something, it usually comes to pass.

I gazed out the door Mayme had left through. Bertie, I recall something I heard about a daughter of hers.

My friend clapped me on the shoulder. I know the one you mean. She attended Smith College and now teaches calisthenics and physiology there. The college was off in the western stretch of Massachusetts, far from here. Amesbury nestled in the northeast corner of the Commonwealth on the New Hampshire border only a few miles from the great Atlantic.

And let me guess, I said. She isn’t married and isn’t interested in the male of the species.

Indeed she is not, and one can only surmise our Mayme Settle is none too pleased about it, Bertie said.

Therefore she harbors a degree of anger against anyone else with similar tendencies.

Bertie nodded. But you didn’t pop in to talk about Mrs. Settle’s prejudicial attitudes, did you? She leaned her forearms on the counter.

I was hoping to convince thee to sup with me at Lake Gardener after thy workday is over. It’s quite warm today. The breeze would be refreshing, and of course the sun doesn’t set until nearly half past seven.

I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather do otherwise, Rosetta. Sophie went to New York City and won’t be back until late this evening.

And my David has a meeting with his father about the health clinic.

Perfect, my dear. I’ll meet you there at six o’clock sharp. As long as you promise we won’t encounter a murderer.

Two

Back in the home I shared with my brother-in-law and my younger niece and nephews, I spread the day’s Amesbury Daily News flat on the table in the kitchen. I was due in my parlor, which served the dual purposes of midwifery office and bedroom, at one o’clock. I expected one of my pregnant ladies for an antenatal visit, but I had time to peruse the news as I ate my midday meal. A breeze blowing through the screened door ruffled the paper and brought the rich warble of an oriole.

The family was all off at school for the day, even Frederick, the man of the house, who taught at the Academy. Alas, Faith, my oldest niece, no longer lived here. She’d been married to her sweet beau Zebulon Weed in the winter and now resided with him and his family several blocks away on Orchard Street. Even Lina, our kitchen girl, had finished her duties for the day and left, so the house was blessedly quiet. Faith’s yellow cat, Christabel, napped in a pool of sunlight. She was such a good mouser I’d convinced Faith to leave her with us when she’d moved. Our kitty’s mother was Zeb’s family’s cat, so they already had a mouse solution in their own kitchen.

The Amesbury Daily’s masthead read Tuesday, June 4, 1889, and below it was the horrific news of the flood that had wiped out the town of Johnstown in western Pennsylvania. I paused in my simple repast of bread and cheese to close my eyes and fold my hands. I held the deceased and their poor families in the Light of God, that their grief not be unbearable and that God might welcome all those newly released souls to his loving embrace.

The next page held a much more welcoming item, a review of a new novel set in Louisiana, The Awakening, by Kate Chopin. The article intrigued me, stating that the author portrayed an unconventional attitude toward femininity. The review was rather negative, and it recommended censoring certain sections of the story, which piqued my interest. I made a note to read the book and discuss it with Bertie.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped up. No more dallying for this midwife. By five before the hour I was in my parlor and ready when the front doorbell jangled. I hurried to let Jeannette Papka in.

Please wait for me, Jeanette said to her driver, a deferential man in his fifties, after she’d greeted me. He had walked her up the steps to my door.

Yes, Mrs. Papka. He tugged at his hat and trotted back down the steps.

Jeanette turned to me. Shall we, Rose? She was quite tall, with thick dark hair and a delightful smile. A bulge at her waist indicated the stage of her pregnancy. But her eyes were milky and didn’t allow her even a glimpse of her world. She’d been stricken with an illness as an infant that had blinded her for life.

I extended my elbow so she could tuck her arm through it, a method she preferred to her guide taking her by the arm. She stretched her other hand to touch the wall as we made our way to my office. I led her to the chaise that doubled as examining couch. She felt behind her and sat.

I detect thee is with child again, I began.

She laughed. It appears I am. Mr. Papka is most pleased, I can tell you.

How fares young Rebecca? She is three by now, if I’m not mistaken.

She’s a sturdy and strong-willed girl, in the rose of health and a challenge to her nursemaid and me.

Excellent. I have checked back through my notes. Thy labor and birth with Rebecca were uncomplicated despite her weighing ten pounds.

That’s right. What can I say, Rose? I am a tall woman with an even taller husband, and I make large babies. She clapped one palm atop the other for emphasis.

How is Stanley, by the way?

You know, I only see him at the week’s end, because of his professorship at Harvard College. We were determined to stay here in Amesbury to raise our family, so we have my husband with us only three nights per week. But he is well, and we have sufficient finances to hire the help I need to run the household. A small smile played around her lips. If anything, the heart grows fonder when it is not overtaxed. The arrangement quite suits me.

I am happy to hear it. I was, although mention of a husband made my own heart pine for David Dodge, my betrothed and beloved. Obstacles still remained in the way of declaring our marriage vows. The situation was growing more trying for both of us each day that passed with us living apart and unwed. I let out a sigh unbidden.

I hope you haven’t been involved in any more murders recently, Jeanette said, lifting one eyebrow.

Would people ever stop saying that to me? Thank the dear Lord, no. It was true, I’d somehow become associated with more than one case of homicide in Amesbury over the last year and had found a bit of previously undiscovered aptitude in the solving of same. And I’d like to keep it that way. Now, how many monthlies has thee missed?

Three, I think. But it could be four. You know how busy I am with my work. Jeanette, whose maiden name was Voyant, spoke several languages fluently and was much in demand as an interpreter at the Second District Court here in Amesbury.

With all the French and Polish immigrants, there must be a great need for thy services.

Indeed. Even those who have acquired some facility with our language prefer to use their own in times of strife, which being accused of a crime most certainly is.

But will the court allow thee to continue working while carrying thy baby?

She wrinkled her nose. We’ll see. I didn’t have the interpreter position when I was pregnant with Rebecca. I confess I’m not even wearing a corset today, although I do at court. The fool things are so very uncomfortable. But I’m having several new garments made for me in the Aesthetic dress style. You know it? The garments have no defined waist and feature much free-flowing fabric.

Wearing such dresses sounds wise for thy condition. I have tried to encourage other clients of mine to adopt such comfortable, unrestrictive clothing but most are reluctant. I normally didn’t wear a corset myself, being naturally slim of build. Does thee know the lawyer Sophie Ribeiro? She adopted Aesthetic dress some time ago. She always looks so at ease.

I know her, of course, from my work at the court. It was from her I acquired the idea. I hope the new dresses will conceal my state for a few more months, depending on how fast this fellow grows. She patted her belly. I don’t know, of course, but I have the distinct feeling this one will emerge a son and even bigger than my firstborn.

Lift thy skirts and let me check thee. We’ll see how he’s faring. I proceeded to take her pulse and then measure the distance from her pubic bone to the fundus, the top of the uterus. I applied the wide flare of the Pinard horn to her belly and listened through the small end.

I straightened. It’s faint because it is small yet, but thy fetus has a good regular heartbeat. From the measurement I would say thee is about halfway through. I’d put thee at about four and a half months along, possibly five.

She narrowed her eyes, thinking back. I suppose it’s possible. So I’ll have a fall baby. She restored her skirts and sat up. Rose, I heard some malicious gossip about Miss Ribeiro around the Armory yesterday. A society matron came in trying to lodge a complaint of lascivious cohabitation against her. She said Miss Ribeiro wasn’t fit to serve as counsel.

I rolled my eyes, not that she could see the gesture. Let me guess. The complainer was Mayme Settle.

Jeanette turned her head toward me. How did you know?

She was in the post office this morning being rude to my friend Bertie Winslow, the postmistress. Perhaps thee knows she lives with Sophie.

Of course I know. Who doesn’t? And it’s not a platonic friendship, either. But such talk is pure balderdash. Who gives a dead rat what two ladies do in the privacy of their own home? Luckily, the magistrate is of a similar mind and refused to lodge the complaint.

I admire thee for speaking thy mind, Jeanette, and I’m glad we are in agreement on this matter. I patted her hand, even though I knew she could hear the smile in my voice.

Land sake. It’s the only sensible way to think. Mrs. Settle ought to be shut up and banned from polite society. She gave a vigorous nod. Indeed she should.

I held up a hand in a reflexive but useless move. In her defense, she does perform a great many acts of charitable service for the poor among us.

I know, I know. And it’s not Christian of me to speak ill of her. She pursed her lips, then slapped her thigh. But you know what else she did?

Do tell.

Mind you, this is fact, not gossip, Jeanette began. I was standing in the hall outside the courtroom as plain as day, and I heard her talking to the banker, Mr. Irvin Barclay. I know his voice because Mr. Papka and I have our accounts with him at the Powow National Bank. The two were having a disagreement. He must have seen me because he tried to hush her, saying I would overhear. But Mrs. Settle claimed I was a deaf-mute and a moron and couldn’t comprehend their conversation.

I gasped. She didn’t.

She most certainly did. I hear it all the time.

Doesn’t she know you work for the court?

She might not, if she’s never had occasion to witness me interpreting.

But Irvin Barclay must know better, about your abilities, from you and Stanley banking with him.

Pshh. He pays me no heed, even when my husband and I go in together. Says banking is for gentlemen. She laughed. Mr. Papka knows well how I feel, but he still allows Mr. Barclay to have his way. My Stanley says it is a minor battle out of all those we might fight, and this way he saves me the grief of having to deal with an idiot.

Jeanette was one of the most intelligent people I’d ever met. We’d become friendly even before her daughter’s birth, and she never failed to impress me with her breadth and depth of knowledge on any topic we’d ever discussed. Competent in all areas of life except vision, she knew people’s identities by their voices even if she’d only met them once. She played lovely music on the violin—all by memory. Her family was enlightened, caring, and comfortable financially. Jeanette had had tutors and had completed a full course of schooling. She’d taken additional courses in the law to familiarize herself with the jargon and nuances about the matters for which she needed to interpret. She had challenging and remunerative employment, and was a caring wife and mother, to boot. Not having sight had not held her back in the slightest. Mayme Settle and the banker had each gone down another mile in my estimation.

Don’t worry, I’m accustomed to such ignorant attitudes about the blind, Jeanette said. People who hold them? It’s truly their loss.

Three

Irvin Barclay ushered his wife into my parlor with an officious air at two o’clock sharp. He introduced his wife and himself.

Mrs. Barclay insists on seeing you, a midwife. The corners of his mouth turned down as if the mere word tasted sour. I advised her to consult a medical doctor but she put her pretty little foot down. The banker Jeanette had heard at the courthouse had to be at least twice his wife’s age, old enough to be her father and then some. Such marriages were not uncommon among men of his apparent financial standing. He looked like an affluent spouse, judging from the cut and quality of his suit and the circumference of his well-fed midsection. His young wife, by contrast, was both petite and slender except for her growing womb.

I smiled. I am pleased to meet both of you. Rest assured I will provide excellent care for thy wife, Irvin.

His nostrils flared. His bushy reddish sideburns bristled and he lifted his chin at the affront of my not addressing him as Mr. Barclay. My driver will deliver me to the bank and he will return forthwith and wait for Mrs. Barclay to be finished with her appointment.

I thank thee for bringing her.

Goodbye, dear, Sissy Barclay said to her husband. I’ll see you tonight.

He clapped his top hat on his pate and bustled out without saying goodbye to either of us.

Shall we? I gestured for her to sit on the chaise.

Miss Carroll, I don’t know how I will ever make it to my baby’s birth alive, Sissy said. She perched upright, clearly still encased in a corset despite being well along in her pregnancy. She looked exceedingly uncomfortable, her breaths coming shallow and fast.

Sissy, I insist thee calls me Rose. Despite being at least six or seven months pregnant, in my estimation, this was her first visit to me.

She made a moue with her plump lips. It’s not proper, Miss Carroll. The pout made her appear even younger than her twenty years.

I kept my sigh inside. Be that as it may. Has thee been under the care of a different midwife for thy pregnancy?

No. When I married Mr. Barclay last year, I moved here from Portland, Maine. Portland is where my mama and grandmamma are, and my sisters, too. It took me a while to realize I was in the family way. And when I wrote to Mama, she said I must find a midwife right away, even though Mr. Barclay wanted me to see a physician. You know, a man. She rolled her eyes. As if I’d let any man but my husband look at me down there.

I’m glad thee found me. I do, however, insist thee abandon thy corset from this day forth until after thy child is born. Lacing thy belly so tightly is not good for thy health or that of the growing child inside thee.

But what if Mr. Barclay rejects me? He so admires my wasp waist. She gazed down at the sprigged fabric straining over her thick and bulging midsection. The waist I once had, that is.

Surely he loves thee and wants the best for thee and the baby.

Of course he does. She lifted her pointed chin. He’s been wanting to be a father for a long time. His first wife couldn’t bear babies and then she died.

Then let’s loosen this corset right now. I can’t do a proper examination if thee cannot breathe adequately, nor if I can’t fully palpate the baby’s position in thy womb.

Sissy allowed me to unhook the back of her dress and let out the binding restricting her. She let out a little laugh of relief, then filled her lungs and exhaled before speaking. Miss Rose, I have to admit you were correct in your estimation. I haven’t been able to breathe well during the day for several months.

She was halfway to using only my Christian name, which I preferred, but I didn’t mention it so as not to make her aware of