The Road to Love ; Hearts in the Highlands

by Linda Ford

  “You said your parents were missionaries?”

  “Yes.” She was glad to be able to speak about them instead of herself. “Papa felt a call to the mission field when he was a young man—both my parents did, actually. They went to Palestine under the auspices of the Foreign Mission Society, when representatives of the society came to our church to speak one Sunday.”

  “I’m surprised they took a young child with them.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Not only one. Three. I have two older brothers.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being responsible for anyone but myself over there. And you all survived your time in the field?”

  “Yes. I won’t say it was without incident....” Her words slowed. “My parents probably wouldn’t have come back when they did, but I had fallen ill with malaria.”

  “The Middle East can be a harsh place.”

  She found him observing her, his long fingers idly smoothing down the ends of his mustache. She could feel her cheeks redden under his gaze, wondering what he saw—a woman past her youth, with eyes that tended to look sad even when she wasn’t, cheeks that gave away her emotions, a too-wide mouth. Her eyelids fluttered downward as the moment drew out.

  “Most foreigners succumb to malaria at one time or another. I’ve gone through enough bouts to dread the symptoms.”

  She sighed. “I grew to know them quite well. It was after my third attack that my parents decided to return to England.”

  He continued stroking his mustache, studying her. He had such a direct way of looking at a person, she felt he could read her innermost thoughts.

  “I’m still amazed that a European woman and her three young children survived the experience as long as you did.”

  “My two brothers were old enough that my parents would probably have braved it out longer, if they had fallen ill, but I was younger, and somewhat frail when I was a child.” She gazed out the window. Her parents had had to make so many sacrifices on her behalf. She turned back to him, recovering herself with a smile. “My two brothers are now missionaries in their place.”

  “In Palestine?”

  “No. One is in Constantinople, the other in West Africa.”

  He whistled softly. “Your family is spread far and wide. Are your parents still alive?”

  “Yes. Papa has a small curacy in Wiltshire.” She steered the conversation away from her family. “Tell me how you came to be involved in Egyptology, Mr. Gallagher.”

  He eased back against the small wooden chair. “The question is more, How could I help not becoming involved? I lived a good many years in Egypt when I was growing up. My father was a diplomat. When I came back to England to school, my great-uncle—Lady Haversham’s husband—took up where my life abroad had left off.”

  He was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their tea. Maddie absorbed what he’d told her, watching him as he spoke to the waiter. Although he addressed the man casually, seemingly as at ease in this quaint tearoom as in the great lecture hall, she continued to sense a man outside his natural element. Today he was as well dressed as he had been at his aunt’s, in a starched white shirt, finely patterned silk tie and sack coat of dark broadcloth, yet she couldn’t help picturing him in more rugged garb, such as he must wear in the desert.

  As she stirred sugar into her tea, Maddie chanced a glance at her own navy-blue dress. It was the same one she’d worn the day he’d come to visit his aunt. Well, that wasn’t surprising, being one of only three gowns she owned. It was certainly appropriate for a paid companion, but not up to standards to be seen in a gentleman’s company. She must look like a nursemaid or governess beside him. What would the waiter or the patrons sitting around them think of such a handsome man escorting such a dowdy female?

  The waiter moved away from their table and Mr. Gallagher turned his attention back to her. “I really wanted to thank you today for how you are taking care of Aunt Millicent. You seem to have a way with her.”

  “You have nothing to thank me for. I’m just her companion. She has a whole legion of servants to take care of her. As well as a fine physician,” she added, thinking of how often Dr. Aldwin was summoned.

  “She seems to rely on you, however.”

  Maddie removed the spoon from her cup and placed it on the saucer, uncomfortable with the compliment. “I’m only doing my job.”

  “How long have you been a...companion?” He hesitated over the word, as if unaccustomed to the term.

  “Since I left home.”

  “When was that?”

  “When I was eighteen.” In the silence that followed she wondered if he was calculating how old she must be. On the cusp of turning thirty, she could have told him.

  He only nodded, and again, she had that sense that he was evaluating her words, taking nothing at face value. He was probably cataloging her as a spinster securely on the shelf.

  She shook aside the depressing thought and imagined instead that it was probably a painstaking attention to detail that made him a good archaeologist. She was still amazed he had remembered her name—or her, for that matter. He’d hardly glanced at her during the time he was at his aunt’s for tea.

  “How long have you been involved in archaeology?” she asked, returning to the topic she was really interested in.

  Humor tugged at his lips, half-hidden by his mustache. “Oh, forever.”

  She smiled at his evident pleasure in the topic. “You said Lady Haversham’s late husband was engaged in the field?”

  “Yes. Good old Uncle George. It was he who gave me my love of archaeology.”

  She hadn’t been with Lady Haversham long enough to know too much about her employer’s late husband, although she knew he had often gone abroad. “Was he an archaeologist?”

  “They didn’t have them back then. He was more an adventurer and explorer. When he came to Egypt, he fell under the spell of the pyramids. He began to bring home anything he could find. It was all quite a free-for-all back then—any tourist or traveler taking what he could find, whatever the looters hadn’t gotten over the previous centuries.” His tone deepened to disgust.

  Maddie rested her chin on her palm, glad to be taken away from her present world to one so close to that of her girlhood.

  “By the time I came back to England, my father had been posted somewhere else. So, I began to spend my summers with Uncle George and Aunt Millicent. He was living in London by then. He’d show me parts of his collection. He had some incredible things—from Greek amphorae to Roman headdresses, but his real love was Egyptian artifacts. He had pottery, jewelry, bits of sculpture.” He sighed. “I don’t think I ever saw the whole thing. I wonder where it all is now.”

  “I haven’t been with your aunt for very long. I know she has many things stored away. She often talks of her travels when she was younger. She was very excited when she knew you were coming home.”

  He looked sidelong through the window at the street. “I haven’t considered Britain my home in many years.”

  Maddie bit her lip, afraid she’d said something wrong. But he turned back to her and began telling her about some of the digs he’d been involved in. Once again she was transported to another time and place, her present dreary existence swallowed up by that other world.

  Suddenly a clock tower down the street struck the hour. She sat up and pulled out her watch. It was half-past twelve! “Oh, I really must get back. Thank you so much for the tea.” She began to rise.

  “Steady there.” He snapped open his own watch. “You have plenty of time to get back if Aunt Millicent still dines at one. Wait, and I’ll get you a cab.”

  Maddie sat back down, but felt the tension grow in her. She had wanted to avoid having to take the omnibus back. What would a hansom cost? Oh, dear, it couldn’t be helped now. She had no time to cover the distance by walking.

  Mr. Gallagher
signaled the waiter and settled the bill. Maddie had to restrain herself from drumming her fingers on the tabletop. She gathered her bag and gloves.

  Finally, he stood and she joined him immediately. “I can catch an omnibus a few blocks from here.”

  “Nonsense. You can catch a hansom right out front and it will be a lot quicker.”

  She bit her lip and said no more, thinking again how much the fare would cost. After they’d collected her coat and umbrella, they stood on the curb.

  It didn’t take Mr. Gallagher long to hail a carriage. When it arrived, she suddenly realized that their morning together was over. It seemed scarcely to have begun. She couldn’t remember a time in her recent memory when she’d had such an enjoyable outing. Disappointment stabbed her.

  “I—thank you again,” she said, stumbling over the words in her effort to express her gratitude.

  He held the door open for her. “The pleasure was mine. I really wanted to do something for all your kindness to my aunt.”

  Maddie held her smile in place, unable to help feeling just a bit disappointed that it hadn’t been more for him than an act of kindness for an employee of his relative. It was thoughtful of him, all the same. Not many family members would take any consideration of a paid companion.

  She placed her hand in his to bid farewell, and again she felt his strength and protection—which left her a little bereft when their hands separated.

  She settled in the small space of the cab and placed her belongings at her side. Lastly, she took one more look out the window and gave a wave when she saw him still standing on the curb. He was a tall, lean man, his appearance that of a rugged adventurer and explorer, as he’d described his uncle, charmingly out of place on the London sidewalk.

  He returned her wave with a small salute of his own, and she had another mental image of him in the desert, a camel as his mode of transportation, a host of Bedouins his companions.

  As the carriage made its way from Bloomsbury across town to Belgravia, Maddie took out her purse and got her fare ready. She sighed, knowing she’d have to make up for the money in another quarter. She shook her head. There weren’t many areas where she could cut back more than she already was. She couldn’t not buy stamps for her weekly letters to her parents or brothers.

  She was back at Lady Haversham’s much more quickly than she was used to. A glance at her watch told her she still had time to wash up and tidy her hair.

  When she descended the cab, she handed the coachman his fare.

  “Oh, that’s all taken care of, ma’am.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “The gentleman what hailed the cab for you. He took care o’ your fare.” He smiled. “And a generous tip, as well, to get you here quickly.”

  She stepped back on the sidewalk, astonishment leaving her speechless.

  He tipped his hat to her. “Good day t’ye.” With a snap of the reins, he was off.

  Maddie looked after him a moment. She had underestimated Mr. Gallagher’s attention to detail...as well as his kindness. She blushed, as it occurred to her that it only meant he understood the reduced circumstances of a paid companion.

  Remembering her duties, she turned about and headed up the walk to the front door. She’d have to thank Mr. Gallagher the next time she saw him.

  If there was a next time. Then she remembered his words, At the next lecture. All at once her steps grew lighter as she hurried up the steps.

  Chapter Three

  A few mornings later, Reid sat in his great-aunt’s parlor for a second visit, this time in answer to a note from her. He’d been intrigued by her words that it was “about an important matter.”

  Aunt Millicent sat alone in her parlor, enthroned in her high-backed armchair. Despite her diminutive size, she appeared regal in her dark brocaded gown with several gold chains down the front.

  He wondered briefly where her companion was and remembered the pleasant time they’d had over tea. The young lady had been a ready and willing listener, though he’d certainly never meant to go into such detail about his work.

  “Thank you, my dear, for coming so quickly.” Reid leaned down to kiss his aunt’s cheek, which was soft and wrinkled but still smelled of the lavender water she’d used as long as he could remember.

  “I was happy to oblige.” He took a seat across from her. “Where’s Lilah?” he asked, noting also the absence of the terrier.

  “Miss Norton took her out for her morning walk.”

  He glanced toward the heavily curtained window. “It’s a bit drizzly for a walk.”

  “Oh, Lilah’s walks are very short. Miss Norton will protect her with an ample umbrella.”

  He tried to picture the willowy Miss Norton scurrying after the tiny dog, a large black umbrella over them both. He turned his attention back to his aunt. “And how are you on this damp morning?”

  She made a face. “Not well, I’m afraid.”

  He leaned forward, clasping his hands loosely between his knees. “What is it?”

  She patted her chest. “Oh, the usual, dear boy. My heart. Some days I feel I can hardly breathe.”

  “I’m sorry. Is there nothing they can do for you?”

  “I think I’ve had every pill and potion invented, but to no avail. Dr. Aldwin says I must have total rest, but you know it’s impossible not to worry about things. I find myself lying in bed at night just thinking of you off in foreign parts, and Vera with her children. Little Harry, you know, is going away to school this autumn.” She shook her head. “I do hope they choose the right school for him.”

  Reid hid his smile. As long as he could remember his aunt had been a worrier. “Well, I’m glad you sent me a note. I would have come by soon at any rate.”

  “I hope I didn’t disturb you at your duties, but I really felt I had to see you after the other day.”

  “Tell me what I can do for you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what we discussed.”

  He tried to remember what they’d talked about. He hoped she wasn’t still dwelling on the attack on their camp.

  “It’s about your Uncle George’s collection.”

  Reid was immediately interested. “Yes, I was thinking about it, too, since my visit. He must have some highly valuable pieces in it, from an archaeological standpoint.”

  “I’m sure everything in it is of the utmost value.”

  He hid another smile, remembering how protective his aunt was of Uncle George’s reputation. “Yes, perhaps so.”

  “I would like to ensure that it is well taken care of at my demise.”

  He rubbed his hands over his trouser legs, uncomfortable with her behaving as if she was at death’s door each time he visited. “Yes... I suppose it would be good to make some provision if...in the unlikely event...” He coughed, uncertain how to proceed.

  “I’m glad you understand. Your Uncle George would have wanted the collection to be used for the advancement of science. He told me many times he wished to leave it to some museum or university, but he passed on before he could act upon his deepest desire, and has left me to dispose of his collection as I see fit.”

  “I see. Do you have anything in mind?”

  “I’m much too ignorant of all he has to make such an important decision, which is why I wanted to consult with you.” She folded her hands in her lap as if in preparation of an announcement.

  “I’d be happy to advise you in any way I can.”

  “Your Uncle George was very fond of you. Alas, we never had any children of our own, so you were like a son to him.” She smiled in recollection. “You’ll never know how happy it made him when you decided to pursue his hobby.”

  “We spoke often of our mutual love for Egypt and its history.” Reid had many pleasant memories of his uncle.

  “Of course he could never pursue it full
-time, what with his work in the consulate.” She fingered the long chains around her neck. “Those were the days. So many parties, so much delicate negotiating with the government officials, the native sultans...” She sighed. “Once we returned to England, of course, his work with the Foreign Office again kept him so occupied, all he could do was put away most of his collection, in the hopes that someday he’d have the time to catalog it properly.”

  Reid nodded, remembering his many conversations with Uncle George on this very subject. But then his uncle had died suddenly in his early sixties, and Reid had gone abroad, so he’d never really bothered to think about the collection again.

  “I’ve come to a decision.” Reid waited, wondering what she was going to say. “I want you to take charge of organizing the collection and together we can then decide where to donate it. I was thinking of the University College.”

  Reid whistled softly. Although he’d never seen the entire collection, from what he remembered, this would be a sizable donation to the college.

  “Of course, because it’s such a large bequest, I want to make some stipulations.”

  “That is perfectly reasonable.”

  “Yes, I thought so. Firstly, I want you to have sole charge of it, and any decisions that are made by the institution have to be approved by you.”

  He sat still. “I don’t know what to say.” Her announcement certainly demonstrated a great degree of trust in him—an element in short supply these days among those working with ancient ruins, where so much pilfering and secrecy went on.

  She smiled. “I’d hoped you’d be pleased.”

  Reid considered the enormity of the task. “I...am,” he managed, still trying to take it in. “It will take some time. I haven’t ever seen everything Uncle George amassed.”

  “Oh, it will take months perhaps. He left boxes and boxes of things, all labeled, of course. I’ve had them brought down from the attic and the stables to his study and library.”

  He shifted in his seat. “I don’t know how much time I would have to devote to it. I need to return to Egypt at some point.”