Chapter 16
August 1827
Coolock House
Outside of Dublin, Ireland
The sun-drenched days of summer were upon Dublin, but all I could see were storm clouds. God had filled me with the sweetest wine by placing Catherine in my life, but then just as quickly forced me to drink the dregs. A letter from the Presentation convent in Killarney arrived at my home in early August informing me and my parents that my sister, Catherine, had died of consumption in May.
My mother and father were inconsolable in their grief. He locked himself in his room while she wept and wailed amid a crowd of friends and family.
My body ceased functioning all together. I couldn’t move from my bed, only stare off into the distance, seeing nothing. My sister had gone home to God four months before, and we were just now finding out. The date on the letter showed it had been written shortly after her passing, so the letter must have somehow been waylaid. That meant we missed the opportunity to say farewell to her, even in death. The vigil, funeral Mass, and burial all had taken place without our knowledge, and because the Presentation cemetery was located behind the cloister walls, we couldn’t even visit her grave.
My parents were so absorbed in their own grief that no one noticed I was missing from meals or came to check on me. I was roused from my stupor several days later only when a servant came to tell me that Catherine was at my door.
Upon seeing me, Catherine rushed to my side. “Anna Maria, when was the last time you ate? You are so thin.” She said something to the servant and the next thing I knew she was undressing me and pacing me a tub of warm water. I laid back, unable to sit up, and she thrust a cup into my hand.
“Drink this. You will feel better.”
I took a sip of the hot liquid and grimaced. It was rich like tea, but with a bitter edge.
Seeing my expression, Catherine explained, “I may have added a dram of whiskey. It’s what my mother would always do when one of us had a great shock. She called it a ‘comfortable cup of tea’ because it settles you down and makes you feel more comfortable.”
I took another sip, the alcohol less astringent on my tongue now that I was expecting it. It warmed me from the inside out as I swallowed it, bringing feeling back to my limbs and slowly thawing out my heart and mind.
While I drank, Catherine washed my hair and body. “When Kate told me you hadn’t been to the House in four days, I knew something had to be wrong. I made inquiries and heard about your sister. I am so sorry.” She squeezed my shoulders. “I will do everything I can to help your family.”
Once I was out of the tub and dry, Catherine dressed me and wrapped me in my warmest cloak until I shed it of my own accord. While we shared a simple meal of bread and broth, I told her what Mother Superior had written and how my family reacted.
She nodded sympathetically. “I’m afraid,” her voice quavered, “that I will be in your place very soon.” She went on to confide that her sister, Mary, was suffering from the final stages of tuberculosis and that she was caring for her.
“The only consolation I have is that she was received into the Church in a secret ceremony last Sunday. The only other person present was her daughter. We couldn’t tell anyone else because the rest of my family is Protestant, especially her husband, William. He hates Catholics so much, he would lose his mind if he knew. I know it isn’t right to deceive him, but I would rather carry her secret with me knowing that she will die with the Sacraments and with her soul right with God. That is what matters in the end.”
Catherine insisted that I lay down for a nap after our meal, although I was eager to hear more of her sister. When I woke up, the sun was in a strange place in the sky; it took me several moments to realize that I must have slept all the way through the night and into the next day. I donned my robe and stumbled into the kitchen, where my aunts were busy peeling potatoes and one of my mother’s friends was plucking a still-bloody chicken.
“What is all this?” I asked, mystified.
“Your friend Catherine brought us a bounty from a place called Coolock House. She said that even though we missed the formal funeral ceremonies, we should still celebrate your sister’s life and mark her entry into Heaven as a family. She suggested making her favorite meal and sharing memories over dinner. The idea brought both of your parents out of their seclusion. Your mother is making Chicken Colcannon Cottage Pie. She is out at the market now getting the spices. Your father is down at the pub and promises to bring back some stout to toast Catherine with.”
“What can I do to help?”
*****
A fortnight later, I arrived at the House of Mercy, only to find Kate descending the front stairs, the door closed behind her.
“What is going on?” I asked.
Kate looked up. Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed as though she’d been crying.
“It’s Mary … Catherine’s sister,” she added when I didn’t recognize the name right away. “She died during the night. I’m on my way to her home in Stillorgan Street if you’d like to come with me.”
I hurried to catch up to her. “Yes, please. We can use my carriage. It will be faster.”
We found the house still and silent, a cloak of mourning drawn heavily around it. Someone had already affixed a black ribbon to the front door and covered the doorbell clappers in black fabric so as not to disturb the family.
Kate knocked softly on the door. The maid who answered didn’t even speak, just ushered us inside, gesturing to the room where we would find Catherine. She was arranging flowers around a coffin that was propped up on two sawhorses. She turned when she heard us enter and dissolved in our outstretched arms with a watery smile.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Not so well,” Catherine admitted, her shoulders beginning to shake.
“How are William and the children?” Kate asked after a respectable silence.
Catherine looked up, wiping tears from her face. “Heartbroken. I’m really worried for the little ones. They don’t understand that their ma is never coming back. And how can they be expected to when I, who am so much older, can barely grasp that I will never again dance with my sister or hear her laugh?” Tears sprang to her eyes anew.
While Kate sat with Catherine, I found the woman who had greeted us and asked what I could do to assist the household. She gratefully accepted my help and put me to work covering the paintings and mirrors in black cloth, stopping all the clocks at the time Mary had died, and other mourning rituals.
Catherine found me later that night and asked if she could speak with me. We sat in the drawing room because the family was keeping vigil in the parlor. “You have been so kind today. I cannot thank you enough for all of your help.”
I started to demur, but Catherine stopped me.
“I’m afraid I am going to ask for a little more, if you are willing.”
“Of course, anything.”
Catherine swallowed, fighting back a fresh wave of tears that made her eyes glisten. “I am going to need to rely on you and Kate to complete the final preparations for the House. I know we talked about me needing your help previously, but recent events have made it such that I would like to turn that over to you. You already know what needs to be done. You can contact me with any questions. I will either be at Coolock House or with William and the children at Kilmainham. He doesn’t know how to care for them, so I will do so until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
I thought back to my last inspection of our supplies and list of outstanding items and gave her a report. For the next several hours we talked about what furniture and other necessities could be borrowed from Coolock House. Catherine insisted we obtain the painting of William Callaghan from the main hall and give it pride of place at the House—without his generosity, the House would not exist. We had enough dishes, utensils, and bedding for Kate, me, and about fifty women, but we’d soon need more, so I added contacting local houses to my list. By the time darkness fell, we had a plan.
I was just leaving, when Catherine called over her shoulder, “Oh and Anna, please see that that horrible choir grate or grille or whatever they are calling it is removed from the chapel. I saw it yesterday and I will not stand for it. No matter what Father Kelly thinks, the House of Mercy is not a convent. I will not have iron bars separating my volunteers from those who come to the chapel to pray.”