The late November sky threatened a storm. Julia could see the front coming in as she stepped out of her carriage, the last remaining sunglow of the day illuminating rolling underbellies of ominous clouds whose grey and black layers reminded her of the nuns she was about to visit. She consulted her timepiece in the failing light: William should be arriving at the establishment's front door on Guy Street at five o'clock sharp - in less than thirty minutes. Julia pulled her cape tighter around her shoulders to keep the snow from touching her bare flesh as much as to appear modest - as modest as one could in a black crepe dress with gold lace and bright blue embroidery, the most conservative thing that could be found at Le Jardin Delice.
She walked towards the rough cut Montreal greystone facade on St. Mathieu, the door in the huge Grey Nuns' complex where supplicants could appeal for assistance, and rang the bell - a clanky, unwelcoming sound. Julia waited nearly ten minutes before a tiny woman in a voluminous habit answered wordlessly; apparently being made to wait was part of the ritual. Judging from the scowl on the nun's thin oval of revealed flesh, Julia's attempt at a humble appearance had not quite met the mark, so she rearranged her cape to hide more of the offending décolletage. In the bag she carried was worse: Joan of Arc was burned for wearing it.
"Good evening, Sister. Bonne soirée. May I enter? Je m'appelle Wilhelmina Harry," Julia offered a code of sorts to get Anna to meet with her, and prayed it worked. After a brief indecision, the Sister stepped aside, leading Julia into an austere entry hall that was not much warmer than the out of doors. She explained what she needed and was told to wait. There was no place to sit, so she remained standing, grateful for her comfortable, if unfashionable, boots. Another interminable time later, she was ushered into a minuscule closet of a room, where another grey-swathed Sister presided. Julia remained standing before the arbiter of her fate.
The nun gave her a hawkish stare, an even deeper scowl, followed by a throat clearing harumph. "We are not a hotel with visiting hours," she said in heavily accented English. "Nor are we a home for the wayward...we seek and serve God here, not accustomed to entertaining women who have lost their way," the Sister scolded, giving Julia a withering glance.
Julia tried a disarming smile. "I realize that Sister, but-"
The nun held up a blunt-fingered hand. "Your sin is not to be confessed to us. Allez." She rose and led Julia down a long hallway, knocking on a door that was in no way remarkable, just like the others surrounding it. "Madam, you have a visitor," she announced before opening the door.
Inside was Anna Fulford herself. Stunned, the woman rose quickly as the door closed, leaving them alone. Mouth agape, she blinked a few times, then looked down. "Dr. Ogden?" she began, then, mouth moving, she struggled to speak. "What are you doing here? Is Harry with you? With William?"
"It's Julia, Miss Fulford. William knew that a man would never gain entry, so he sent me," Julia reassured her.
"How did you find me? Where's Harry? Where is my son?" she repeated urgently. "Please, I must know."
"Harry got himself to William. After we figured out that it was not you who was killed and put in the oil drum, your son found this Montreal address in your journal. He...well, he took off with it. William and I followed." Understanding that Anna needed to know about her child, Julia reached for her hand and smiled. "And we found Harry. He's well and safe. It's a long story that William will tell you all about, but your son is with a trusted friend, one who has already risked her life for a child," Julia added, hoping to put the woman's mind at ease.
Anna accepted that, and seemed to relax somewhat. "Thank you for telling me. Please, have a seat, and call me Anna," she replied, offering Julia the room's single straight-backed chair. "I have been terribly worried, but afraid to contact anyone in Toronto after what they did to our neighbor. So Detective Murdoch did follow, " she said taking a seat on the bed and wringing her hands. Julia could see the redness in her eyes where she'd been crying.
"I suppose William was surprised." Anna laughed nervously. "Sorry. Detective Murdoch, I should say," she corrected herself.
"I imagine so...I certainly was," Julia shrugged with another smile, trying to be reassuring. Anna appeared to be so tired, so unassuming, quite different from the lively young woman she knew almost a decade ago. "But we must hurry. I am here to get you to safety."
"What? Why?" Anna protested.
That was more of the spirit Julia expected. She pulled clothing out of her bag, handing over a set of trousers, a shirt and a wool coat. They were not winter weight, but they fit in the bag and were the right size, so that was all that counted. "It is not safe for you here. Did anyone contact you? Seem too interested in you being here?"
"No. I am sure of that."
"Good. Put these on. You and I are leaving through the back door and I am taking you to safety. We can talk as we go, but we have to leave. Now."
They both fell into an awkward silence for a moment as Julia couldn't help but stare at this person who saved William's life - and who had charmed her husband all those years ago.
This was the woman who had borne him a child, a son, no less - something she would never do. She thought she had made her peace with that fact, but the presence of Harry had ripped that particular wound open once more, and worse still, had rubbed salt into it. Anna, standing less than two feet away, brought everything back.
Julia blinked, and looked away at the small bedside table consisting of only a bible, prayer book, and a rosary. The room as a whole was very spartan and was improved upon a prison cell by the fact that at least it offered privacy. There wasn't even a window in the room, which was probably for the best given the temperature and safety concerns. Exhaling, she tried not to show her impatience as she just wanted to get Anna back to the brothel, and away from where Meyers or Falcone knew she was. It was her responsibility to save this woman and reunite her with her child, who just so happened to also be William's.
Anna took the offerings and began exchanging them for her plain dress, speaking while she worked. "So, did William finally manage to get you to the altar?" Anna asked, a little awkward laugh in her voice.
"He did, although I'm the one who finally made it happen," Julia said, taking the dress and folding it back into her bag for later use. "For a man of action, William is completely baffled by personal decisions, and I've learned that he needs a great deal of encouragement."
"I would have never thought that of him, he was always so bold, so quick to act," Anna murmured, stepping out of her chemise. "I guess that's where Harry gets it from - he's very much like his father if you haven't already noticed." Anna sighed quietly, obviously thinking of her son. "I couldn't tell William I was pregnant. By that time I was far away from Toronto and he made me promise that we'd never see each other again. I suppose I should have found a way, but I didn't want..." she trailed off.
"If he didn't care he wouldn't be here now," Julia reassured her.
Anna pulled the shirt over her head and tucked it into the waistband of the pants, then sat to put her boots back on. "I never should have gotten us into this mess. It's my fault for thinking I knew better, that I didn't need to think about how my actions affect the people who love me. I've gotten so used to unilateral decisions and look at what it has cost - in lives lost, if nothing else. If I had never come back to Toronto in the first place, none of this would have happened."
"And you'd never have Harry…" Julia blurted out.
Anna stood abruptly, cinching her belt. "And now I have endangered my son! I never should have gone off without consulting William, thinking it was better if I controlled my own fate. Instead, you tell me I'm not safe in the one sanctuary I thought I had." Anna panted after her outburst, her face red.
Julia was glad Anna was angry - it beat being afraid. "I hope this will be over soon," Anna said. "What are we going to do? I need to see my son."
Julia decided to leave out the part where they were shielding her from Terrence Meyers who wanted to use her as bait. No need to worry the woman any more than was already necessary. She handed Anna the final pieces of the disguise - a man's hat, scarf and fur-lined gloves.
"William has a plan which I will tell you, but we are out of time. Just come with me. You are leaving here as a lad - so walk like one. You will help me into the carriage and sit on top with the driver, we aren't going far, and hopefully, we will return to Toronto tomorrow."
The last thing she passed to Anna was a small pistol. Anna looked at her with wide eyes as she held it before putting it in her coat pocket.
Julia smiled. "Don't worry, I have my own… just in case."
It was full dark when William presented himself at the Guy Street gatehouse entrance to the Grey Nuns. William had been there once when he lived in Montreal, before he went off to be a logger. As he recalled, the Sisters of Charity were not a cloistered, contemplative order like his own sister had joined, but very active in society with Good Works. What was different now was how the city had built up around the place, disconcerting him a bit and making him feel a little old. He had a small wash of guilt come over him before pulling the bell - he was about to behave in the most uncharacteristic manner for himself to act toward anyone, let alone a Sister, but he had to make a scene if the ruse was going to work.
To his right and down the road, he was satisfied Falcone's men were in a carriage loitering near His Majesty's Theatre, just beyond St. Catherine Street. While he waited to be admitted to the nuns' building, one man got out of the carriage under a streetlamp, as if going to the theatre, and the carriage pulled slowly away, crossing St. Catherine, coming closer to the nunnery entrance. William bet himself a second man remained inside, watching. The same vehicle followed him from the telegraph station to Saint-Sulpice Seminary, and now across town to the Nunnery, while he had changed transportation four times. Someone, at least, had found him and was not going to lose him again.
A tall, angular Sister answered the door. William recognized her habit as that of a postulant, and pegged her age as less than twenty. He thought she had a sweet, innocent face. God forgive me...
He sent a glance to the carriage which had moved even closer to his location. A man strolled across the street. Falcone's men. William stepped forward. "Je demande l'entrée…"
After delivering his tirade, William accepted the door being slammed in his face and wheeled around to stalk down the steps to the street. He pretended to be so absorbed in his disappointment he did not notice the man following him nor the carriage pull even closer, until nearing the corner of Guy and Dorchester.
William immediately darted to his right, cutting along the side of the building and across a large courtyard, then put on speed to gain the entrance to the chapel, which he knew remained open. It was not yet time for Vespers, so he counted on it being empty. He was through the heavy doors and pelting down the central aisle before the two men following him could reach him - his stalkers had made the mistake of being too far away, and expected their quarry to run towards the street, not back inside of the nunnery complex. William heard the chapel front doors slam and two sets of running feet behind him, just as he pushed the door open at the back of the chapel, leading to the back gardens. His guess was that there were at least three, possibly four men he had to outwit, but only two on his tail.
His breath came in gasps as he ran. He glanced over his shoulder, and made sure his pursuers saw him duck into a squat outbuilding. He needed to separate these two from anyone else who was looking for him. William took the stairs two at a time, launching himself down past piles of coal which fed the heating system for the nunnery. Steam tunnels ran underneath the entire complex - including under Guy Street to where the nuns erected their original building. William could hear the men's shoes clattering on the concrete floor - and his footfalls echoed as well, luring Falcone's men deeper underground.
In no time he was in the longest tunnel leading away from the nunnery, where he knew an exit popped up on the other side of Guy St. He made for the door, shoved it open and was away through the center of the block where there were no street lamps, letting him blend into the darkness as he went through to Mackay Street where he had a horse waiting for him. He was very sure, even if the two men chasing him knew he was racing away on horseback, there was no way to follow.
The next time he saw these men, he was also very sure someone was going to die.