AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Still, that didn’t prevent Mrs. Donovan from letting Mary walk out with Paddy on her next afternoon off. That day being a Sunday, he would take her to Mass at St. Bridget’s. For he was raised a Roman Catholic like herself, Mary told Mrs. Donovan. Then they would walk in the park and enjoy the spring weather—perhaps stop in at a tea shop….
“All well and good. Just don’t let him get fresh with you,” Mrs. Donovan warned.
“I wouldn’t let a lad get fresh withme,” Polly interjected, tossing her mousy hair under her maid’s cap. “My ma raised me better than that.”
“I don’t see any lads eveninterestedin getting fresh with you,” Mary retorted.
“That’s enough, girls,” said the long-suffering housekeeper. “Mary, just be back by four to help me prepare dinner.”
* * *
It was the most magical day in Paddy’s young life. He stood beside pretty Mary at church. He held her prayer book for her. He found they knew the same hymns and harmonized nicely together; he had a smooth tenor voice and she was a sweet soprano.
Maybe people are looking at us and thinking she’s my girl.
Mary looked especially lovely. She had put on her “good” dress, lilac in color, and to match, a jacket and a little hat, perched on her upswept red hair. She had sewn these things herself, she told Paddy.
“Why, Mary, yer that talented. Ye could be one of those fancy dressmakers—what do they call ‘em—cotooriers!” They both laughed at his outrageous French accent.
I’ll bet she doesn’t know her mistress worked in a hat maker’s shop for a while under a false name—that would tickle her!
But he said nothing, for he knew Ace would be angry if he or Charley ever revealed Lady Josephine’s secrets.
Maybe when we’re married, and Mary doesn’t work there anymore, I can tell her about Vauxhall Gardens and how Ace first met her ladyship.
For he had already decided he wanted to marry her. He had made that decision even before he learned, over refreshments in the tea shop, that her mother in County Cork was formerly an O’Connor, with distant cousins related to him in County Kerry.
* * *
Lady Josephine, meanwhile, thought her heart would break. It was actually physically painful to feel the way she did. She was inextricably engaged to one man who was as cold as ice to her. She was hopelessly in love with another man, who seethed with anger at her. She did not care about the reasons for her fiancé’s indifference, but she desperately cared about Ace’s anger. How could she make him see how much she loved him?
She still went to his room most nights. McTavish had said that Ace yet required a heavy dose of laudanum to sleep. She was increasingly at risk that he might awaken—for didn’t they say laudanum’s effectiveness lessened, the longer a patient took it?
Yet she had to be with him. It was the only time of day she was at peace, when she could speak out loud of her love for him, her desire for him and when she could touch his powerful hands, his handsome face and his well-formed, muscular body.
What if he awoke as she was saying and doing these things?I don’t care,she thought.At least the truth will be out.
The last night she spent with him was a night she lay down beside him.Let me hold him for just a few minutes…. Then she fell asleep, for she was exhausted from trying to stay awake day and night.
She was awakened by the clatter of a tray. The sun was streaming through the window. Mr. McTavish and Polly the kitchen maid were at the door with Ace’s breakfast.
The maid was as startled as Lady Josephine. She stood there with her mouth open at the sight of the mistress of the house lying down with a servant, her arms around the man.
The look on Polly’s face said exactly what she was thinking:Truly there’s wickedness in the world. And she is practically a married woman!
McTavish took charge of the situation. “Polly, go downstairs immediately. Say nothing of this to anyone. To anyone, do you hear me? If I hear anything of this matter, I shall know it was you who was gossiping. And evil gossip is a sin.”
Polly, like McTavish, was a Scots Presbyterian. She took his pronouncements as seriously as if they came from a minister’s pulpit.
“No, sir. On my soul, Mr. McTavish, I’ll speak of this to no one. Wouldn’t want to soil my mouth with it, sir—my ma brought me up properly.”
“Out,” said McTavish, pointing to the door.
“Now, my lady,” McTavish said to Lady Josephine. “I’ve known you since you were a wee lass, and you’d confide your little secrets to me back then. And I wouldn’t want any harm to come to you now.
“What’s all this about? For once, the world cannot blame the man, for poor Mr. Smith is still out cold from the laudanum, and it’s certain that in his current condition, he did not bring you to his bedchamber.”
Lady Josephine was crying by this point. She was so ashamed. “No. He didn’t bring me here. He knows nothing of my visiting him here at night.”
