“Tessa, you know what my father said: that there was nothing you could have done to save them.”
“I am so cautious now. I have been since I lost Bridget. I’ve stopped visiting the orphanage and my old neighbors, because I might contract some fever… If I thought for onemomentthat being here or reading to old Mrs. Callaghan would harm my babies…” Tessa looked up at him with such pleading in her eyes, as if he were a judge. “Edwardis the one who insisted I attend Race Week. I told him I was tired!”
There was so much Joseph wanted to say, so many ways he wanted to comfort, encourage, and defend her. But a husband’s authority was absolute; there were times when a doctor or even a Priest could not challenge it.
“Edward’s father is even worse.Hethinks I read too much. Hesays reading is unhealthy for women, that I’m diverting all my blood toward my brain and away from my ‘generative organs’!”
Joseph scowled. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Edward also thinks I should be lacing tighter. But I won’t! I can’t! And not only for the babies’ sakes. What I wore growing up in Ireland was nothing like the corsets that fashionable women are wearing now—I’m simply not shaped correctly!”
She wasperfectlyshaped. How could anyone think otherwise?
Tessa resumed her work and bent her head even more deeply, as if in shame. “I’m so sorry, Father. I’m doing it again: I’m telling you things I shouldn’t.”
“If you didn’t feel you could confide in me, I would be doing a poor job as a Priest.”
She smiled weakly. “Somehow, I don’t think Father Baker would listen so patiently while I complain about my undergarments.”
“He might be more receptive than you think. I suspect the two of you could commiserate.”
Tessa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Corsets aren’t only for women, you know.”
Tessa’s mouth fell open. Her eyes darted toward the doorway, as if someone else might be listening to this slander. For a long minute, she considered the possibility. “Father Bakerdoeshave remarkable posture… No; it cannot be true! Who would lace it for him?”
“Our housekeeper, Mrs. O’Brien,” Joseph suggested.
“She is sixty years old if she’s a day!”
“But strong as an ox. I’ve seen her forearms. They’re the size of oak trees.”
Pursed lips quivering, Tessa resisted the mental image only a moment longer. At last, she threw back her head and laughed so hard tears sprang from her eyes. Eventually, she recovered enough to say: “Thank you, Father.”
“For what?”
“You made me laugh. No matter how dark the day has been.”
CHAPTER 29
Is there—isthere balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!
— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven” (1845)
By the second week of May, Edward had secured Liam new lodgings. By the end of July, Tessa knew she was carrying another child—though Joseph’s father had advised Edward to give his wife more time to regain her strength. It was her third pregnancy in the space of twelve months.
Since her first loss, Joseph’s father had consulted his doctor friends. After her second, he consulted midwives. He read every book, pamphlet, and article he could find that addressed “spontaneous abortion,” as doctors called it. He ordered a treatise from Italy, and Joseph promised to translate it. His father compiled lists of foods Tessa should eat and foods she should avoid.
Edward’s father was not satisfied. He sent a phalanx of new doctors to poke and prod Tessa. Most prescribed copious amounts of laudanum, calomel, or venesection. All these interrogations, examinations, and experiments were only making her worse, Tessa pleaded. She trusted Joseph’s father. Finally, the Stratford men agreed to return her to his care.
They had no choice. That summer and autumn, every doctor in the Low Country was worked to exhaustion. For the first time since the Conleys’ arrival, stranger’s fever awoke from its dormancy. Its terrible chills, pains, and vomiting prostrated thousands of Charlestonians. Before the first frost, stranger’s fever carried off nearly four hundred souls. By the grace of God, Tessa escaped even a mild case. She was only frustrated that she could not help Hélène and the Sisters of Mercy tend to the dying.
And then, in spite of all their precautions, she began bleeding again.
Joseph’s father confided: “One miscarriage is normal. Even after two, there is hope. Butthree…” In his father’s eyes, Joseph saw the truth. “Start praying for a miracle.”
None was granted.
