Chapter 18
September 24, 1827
64A Lower Baggot Street
Dublin, Ireland
A small crowd had already gathered by the time my carriage arrived at the House of Mercy from Kilmainham. The workers had paused in their labors and were standing in vertical lines like manor house servants welcoming their master home from the city season. At their head were John Curran and Dennis Lenehan, the carpenter and architect. A small crowd of supporters were gathered behind them, including two priests. To one side, a group of women waited, dressed in plain gowns, their hair pulled into messy buns, arms crossed and heads inclined toward one another in conversation, clearly uncomfortable being part of the spectacle around them. Some had babies in their arms or children hiding in their skirts. Anna Maria had assured me enrollment in the school was strong, so these had to be our first students.
I squeezed Kate’s hand and she returned the gesture, blessing me with one of her radiant smiles. With unrulily brown curls and plain features, Kate wasn’t the most beautiful girl, but the joy that radiated from her could melt anyone’s heart. If I was to choose the ideal person to put wary women at ease, it would be someone just like her. I prayed our ministry here would be enough to satisfy her religious calling. Just as Anna Maria had wanted to become a Presentation nun, Kate longed to join the Dominicans, but she had agreed to put off her calling in order to help begin operations at the House.
“Are you ready?” I asked her, the slight nervous tremor in my voice audible even to my own ears.
“Are you?” She asked, raising a bushy brown eyebrow.
I took a deep breath. “Almost. Let us thank our Lord that this day has finally come.” Together we offered a prayer of gratitude and recited a Hail Mary to Our Lady of Mercy, whose feast was today and to whom I dedicated our work.
As I descended from the carriage, red ringlets caught the light as Anna Maria turned toward me, offering her own grin and a deferential nod of the head. How many months would it take her to stop treating me like her superior? As far as I was concerned, we were equals in this venture, she and I, and someday I would make her see that, too.
The crowd parted to let Kate and me through. I stopped to greet Mr. Lenehan and Mr. Curran before ascending the four stairs to the small front portico. “You have both done a wonderful job,” I told them, taking each of their hands in mine. I looked up, astonished at the progress they had made since I had visited in August. Then, the House had been a mere shell, but now the walls and roof were complete, and inside, two fully furnished rooms waited for our ministry to begin.
Mr. Lenehan handed me a set of metal keys, nearly thirteen centimeters in length. He went through each—there were only three at the moment—and explained which locks they fit.
We joined Anna Maria before the bright red front door. Once hugs were exchanged all around, I turned to the crowd. “Thank you for being here today to witness the fulfillment of a dream—not only my own, but that of Mr. William Callaghan, without whom none of this would be possible.”
A light smattering of applause followed.
“This building, which we christen today the House of Mercy, will serve as a refuge for all women and children who have nowhere to turn and for those who wish to better themselves. May they be received here with the same tenderness and compassion with which we would welcome the Lord himself. In the name of Our Lady of Mercy, we commence the work God has given us.”
I placed the key in the lock, and Kate and Anna Maria wrapped their hands around mine. We counted out three heartbeats and, as one, turned it, opening the main entrance for the first time. We whooped and hugged one another as a cheer went up from the crowd behind us.
After three years, much anxiety, and even more prayers, God’s work had begun.