Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [143]
“You live with your family in Exeter?” she asks.
“I live with my mother and father and sister,” he says. “I am in practice with my father, who was kind enough to take me in. Had you come a half hour earlier to our offices, it would be he who would be your advocate.”
“Well, then, for once in my life, I must be glad that I was late,” she says.
“And I, too, am exceedingly glad,” Tucker says with perhaps rather more warmth than Olympia is comfortable with.
A waiter arrives with champagne, which, when she takes her first sip, is so dry that it seems to bubble right up through Olympia’s nose.
“Do you like oysters?” he asks.
“Yes, I do.”
“I feel obliged to mention, since I do not wish to deceive you, nor compromise your suit in any way, that I am only one year out of the Yale School of Law,” Tucker says disarmingly when the waiter has left them. “I have discussed your case with my father, and if you would prefer that he represent you, I will not be insulted in any way. In fact, I would advise you to consider this option carefully. My father has rather more experience with the state courts than I do, although your case is unusual, and I am sorry to say my father has not brought forth a suit similar to yours. In fact, I cannot find a like case in the county files at all.”
“Is it so unusual? My case?” she asks.
“It would appear so. As far as I can tell, such a suit has been put forth before only twice in New England.”
He seems about to speak further, but stops himself, brushing his mustaches with the back of his fingers.
“And the outcome of these two suits?” she asks after a time.
“In neither case was the petitioner successful,” he says quietly.
“I see,” Olympia says.
“I was quite fascinated to read of the history of your house,” Tucker says, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“You have had occasion to read of my house?” she asks, looking up.
“I thought I recognized the address when you were in my office. Six months ago, while I was working on a case for the Catholic Diocese in Ely Falls, I came across a few old documents relating to the convent,” he says. “Did you know that the church was forced to close the convent’s doors? It appears there was something of a scandal there.”
“No,” she says. “I was always under the impression that the church had decided to move the sisters into Ely Falls so that they could run the hospice and the orphanage. I am sure that was what my father was told.”
“Yes, I do not doubt that it was. The scandal seems to have been kept rather quiet. The Catholic Church had — has — tremendous political influence in Ely Falls.” He pauses while the waiter serves the oysters in a large silver tray with cracked ice and lemon and horseradish sauce. “The house was set up in the late 1870s to house young women who were felt by their families to be wayward or to have gone astray. A convent within a convent, as it were,” Tucker explains.
“Schoolgirls?”
“Some were as young as twelve. Others as old as twenty. A few of them were victims of brutalities upon their persons or were servant girls who had been taken advantage of by their masters.”
Olympia lays down her oyster fork. “Mr. Tucker, you surprise me with this story.”
“Miss Biddeford,” he says in the manner of a man who has become aware of a terrible social gaffe, “I am so very sorry. Forgive me.”
“Not with the story itself,” she says. “But with its obvious parallel to my own situation. I assume we are speaking of unwed mothers.”
“Of course, I did not intend . . . I cannot think why I have . . . I suppose I simply do not think of you as I do those unfortunate girls. I am most sincerely sorry if I have offended you.”
“No, no,” she says, waving her hand. “Do not trouble yourself. I cannot pretend that I am not surprised by this news, and I am clearly more than a little sensitive about my own situation, but I must tell you, Mr. Tucker, in the same breath, how tremendous a relief it has been for me to have someone to speak to of such matters. I have kept them in