“Let us pay a call on the gatekeeper,” Caroline suggested. “He did capital work today with that gate. There was a moment when I greatly feared he would be struck by the jaunting car, but he got himself out of the way just in time.”
Christopher nodded sagely. “Mr. Doherty was sick with fear for him,” he revealed as they walked along the drive.
“It wasn’t for John Gatekeeper that Mr. Doherty feared, you gudgeon,” Charles said.
“But ’twas,” Christopher insisted. “All of the ladies and gentlemen were shouting at the gatekeeper to go faster, faster, faster; Mama, too! They were smiling and excited. But Mr. Doherty was too frightened to speak.”
“He did speak, Chris, you simply did notice,” Charles corrected. “He marched right up to Arthur and shouted at him for not informing the gatekeeper of the race.”
“Did he now?” Caroline asked, surprised. “And what did Lord Bissell say to that?”
“He said that Mr. Doherty should remember his place,” Charles said with a frown. “I have never seen him so angry.”
“Who was angry?” Caroline asked, her heart twisting with anguish. “Your brother or Mr. Doherty?”
“Mr. Doherty. He wished to knock my brother down; I know it!” Charles said vehemently. “I am pleased that he did not; I should not wish Mr. Doherty to leave us.”
“Then it is right that we are even now on our way to beg pardon of John Gatekeeper for our negligence,” Caroline pointed out. “I am at fault as much as your brother for setting out without ensuring that it was safe.”
“I am glad that you and Miss Fiona did not get hurt,” Christopher said, taking her hand. “So was Mr. Doherty.”
Caroline smiled at the thought his words conjured. “And how is it you know that?” she asked in bantering tones. “Or shall Master Charles correct you in this, as well?”
“No, he is quite right,” Charles asserted. “After Mr. Doherty begged Arthur’s pardon, he insisted that we return to the house. He left us in the front hall, and we peeked through the window as he paced back and forth on the portico. He was that agitated.”
“We could not see the gatehouse from the window,” Christopher said sadly, “so we do not know who won the race. Was it you, Miss Caro? Mr. Doherty seemed so happy when you got back, that it must have been you.”
“He didn’t give a farthing for who won, you dimwit!” Charles said with a roll of his eyes. “He was simply glad that she was safe, that is all.”
“I am persuaded that he was happy to see both me and Miss O’Sullivan safe,” Caroline insisted.
“Naturally he had no wish to see either of you hurt,” Charles said.
“But you especially,” Christopher added.
Caroline felt herself blush as she contemplated their words. She felt full to bursting with happiness, and there was a fluttering in her stomach. “Thank you, both,” she said with kindness, “but I should not wish you to say anything that Mr. Doherty would not have me know.”
The lads both hung their heads and were silent until they reached the door to the gatehouse. Charles took it upon himself to rap upon the door, and it was opened by the man who kept the gate.
“Why, Master Charles!” he said. “Master Christopher, too. It is good of you to come to call,” he said with a smile for Caroline.
“Hello. I am Miss Fulton,” she said. “I am afraid I must beg your pardon. I had not realized you had not been told to open the gate before I started out. Naturally, the driver of the other car followed my lead. I should never forgive myself if you had been hurt.”
The gatekeeper grunted, his faded brown eyes alive with understanding. “’Tis me business to open the gate. I am only happy t’at none were hurt.”
“Thank you.” She favored him with a warm smile. “I am so grateful for the same.”
“Is t’here anyt’ing else I can do for ye?” the gatekeeper asked.
“There is,” Caroline revealed. “Master Charles and Christopher, do run along back to the house. I shall be with you directly.”
Charles immediately did as he was told, whilst Christopher dragged his feet and investigated several matters of interest to him along the verge of the drive.
“Go on now.” Caroline remained silent until certain the children had gone too far to overhear her words. “Less than an hour past,” she said to the gatekeeper, “I heard a disturbance in the woods that edge the park. Did you hear it as well?”
The gatekeeper regarded her from the corner of his red-rimmed eyes as he stroked his beard. “From the woods, ye say?”
“Yes. Less than an hour past,” Caroline repeated. “Please do me the courtesy of speaking the truth; you must have heard it.”
“I might have. I be a bit hard o’hearing...” the gatekeeper began.
“A gatekeeper who is hard of hearing is soon required to find a new place to live,” Caroline insisted.
The gatekeeper nodded in agreement. “If I am caught in a bit o’deception, it is only t’at me wife has been feeble as of late.”
“Then you are indeed hard of hearing but do not wish it known,” Caroline suggested.
“Not a-tall!” the gatekeeper said, his eyes round with alarm. “I heard t’ose cars the moment t’eir wheels began to turn. I should have had t’at gate open all the sooner but I was upstairs tending to me wife; it takes a while to get me old bones down the steps.”
“I’m so very sorry,” Caroline said. “But what of the sounds from the woods?”
The gatekeeper’s eyes filled with tears. “’Twas the banshee, ’twas.”
Caroline’s chest constricted with apprehension. “A banshee,” she breathed. “Yes, that must be what I heard.”
“T’en t’ere is no hope for me poor wife,” the gatekeeper said, choking on sobs.
“But it was not o’er your house that she was heard,” Caroline insisted. “Whomever it is the banshee wails for, he or she must surely lie beneath the roof of the main house.”
The gatekeeper seemed to crumple, and he put a trembling hand on her arm. “T’would be wrong for me to hope t’at ye are right. Now,” he said, straightening to his full height, “I must return to me wife.”
Caroline lingered until he had shut the door behind him before setting out after the lads. With every step she took, she fretted. For whom did the banshee wail?
Niall took the back stairs to the school room two at a time. The physician had proved difficult to locate, and Niall had been absent from his duties for too long. Pausing at the baize door, he considered his appearance. The rainfall had been brief but heavy, and he was wet to the skin. He slipped through the doorway, then through that of his room, and changed into dry clothes.
Quickly, he found a towel and dried his hair, which defied his attempts to brush it into a semblance of order. His cravat left much to be desired, but he dared not keep Miss Deakin waiting a moment longer. She would be anxious enough about her curtailed day off as it was.
Studying his appearance in the glass, he deemed himself presentable, then made his way down the passage to the school room door. He had conjured words of abject apology, but the moment he reached the threshold, they fled. He stared into the room, taken aback by the scene that unfolded before his eyes.
Charles and Christopher busily copied sentences from the blackboard, written in a fine but unknown hand. More surprising was their apparent willingness; they seemed happily engaged. The room itself was far tidier than he had yet seen it; the blackboard bore no unsightly white smudges and the books were nearly all perfectly perpendicular on their shelves and ordered by height. Most astonishing of all was the sight of Miss Fulton absorbed in the continued tidying of the bookcase.
As he watched her, he was shaken by the sudden violence of his emotions. He was wholly unprepared for the furor of intense desires that assailed him. He craved the right to keep her always at his side, always under his protection, always where he might merely look up, and she would be within his sight.
An image rose into his m
ind, one in which he walked through the door of the dispossessed Dublin townhouse. Miss Fulton stood before him, smiling at his return. He strode to her side, took her in his arms, and tenderly kissed her. She sweetly acquiesced, his attentions entirely welcome. As the vision faded, he noted how the whole of it felt far more real, more reasonable than what currently lay before him.
“Miss Fulton,” he said uncertainly.
She whirled about, her expression one of vivid consternation. “Mr. Doherty!” she said in some surprise as her face relaxed into a smile. “Do come in. The lads have so much to show you.”
They proved her statement correct, jumping up from their chairs to present him with their parchments filled with carefully inscribed words.
“And, we have studied our geography,” Charles asserted, “and learned a phrase or two in French, as well.”
“Indeed,” Niall said, tousling the lad’s hair. “We must contrive a means to thank Miss Fulton for her generosity.”
“It is I who should thank them. They have been so very pleasant.”
She smiled with such warmth that Niall fancied it was for him alone. It, together with the memory of her slight waist between his hands and the awareness in her eyes as he lifted her from the jaunting car, was nearly enough to undo him. He dropped into the nearest chair before the trembling of his limbs threatened to land him on the floor.
“You must be utterly spent!” Miss Fulton proclaimed.
“It has been rather a long day.” He resisted the impulse to run a hand through his disordered hair. “The physician was not immediately available, and I was required to drive from one place to the next until he was found.”
She moved to sit in the chair closest at hand. It was Christopher’s, and diminutive in size. He regretted it not, as it afforded him a splendid view of the top of her head, adorned with dozens of golden curls.
“It is that odd to see you here,” he said in a low voice.
“It does not feel in the least odd to me,” she said happily. “The lads have been a delight.”
“If only you were at hand every day. I daresay they have learned more in the few hours you oversaw the school room than in a week under my direction.”
“Not at all,” she denied archly. “I should never be able to teach them a single word of Latin, and I have an especial horror of mathematics. I do so love history, but only the pleasant aspects, so I am not of much use in that regard, either.”
So absorbed was he in this unintentional revelation of her intelligence that he did not at first realize Lady Bissell stood in the doorway.
Niall rose hastily to his feet as Christopher cried, “Mama!” He held his work aloft. “See what I have done today!”
“Yes, indeed,” Lady Bissell said, genuinely pleased. She then turned her attention to Niall. “Mr. Doherty, I must thank you for fetching the physician. Mr. Wilkinson is doing as well as expected. Miss Fulton, I must thank you, as well, for looking after the lads. It seems it was a successful afternoon.”
“They were as good as gold,” Miss Fulton replied.
“I do hope that is the truth. I should not like it if they were to give you any trouble,” Lady Bissell said with a look for each of her sons. “Now, Mr. Doherty, as Mr. Wilkinson has been advised to refrain from walking even a very slight distance, I shall need you to make up my numbers again at dinner.”
“Yes, of course,” Niall replied.
“Oh!” Miss Fulton said, “In that case, I shall be needed to remain with the boys until the nursery maid arrives. She signified that she should not return until it is quite late.”
Lady Bissell heaved a sigh. “I had quite forgotten that it was Miss Deakin’s afternoon off. You are very generous, Miss Fulton, but if you do not appear at dinner, that shall put my numbers back at thirteen, and that I cannot have.”
“Might I make a suggestion, my lady?” Niall asked. “If both Miss Fulton and I were to take our dinners on a tray, your number would be an even twelve.”
Lady Bissell cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “I suppose that should prove unexceptionable, if Miss Fulton is willing.”
“Indeed, I am,” Miss Fulton said graciously. “My only concern is for my father. I should not like him to be anxious on my behalf. Perhaps if you were to speak to him?”
“Shall I claim for you a slight indisposition?” Lady Bissell asked, her eyes twinkling.
“That should do very nicely,” Miss Fulton replied. “Since Mr. Doherty and I shall not have a chance to sing tonight, I wonder if we might use the music room to practice again in the morning.”
“Yes, but only if the lads remain in the school room with Miss Deakin,” Lady Bissell replied decisively. “Today’s departure from routine was quite enough.”
“Thank you, Lady Bissell.” Miss Fulton bobbed a curtsey. “Now, I shall just go and speak with Miss O’Sullivan before retiring to my room to read. Good evening, Mr. Doherty. Good evening, Lady Bissell.” She flashed a look of uncertainty at Niall over her shoulder as she went through the doorway.
Lady Bissell kissed each of her children and took her leave, as well. “Good evening, Mr. Doherty.” She shut the door behind her with such finality that it served to make Niall feel all the more isolated.
“Why has Miss Fulton gone away?” Christopher asked.
“I had thought she would have dinner with us in the nursery,” Charles said.
Niall felt not one whit less bewildered. “That was certainly my intention when I suggested we each take dinner on a tray,” Niall explained. “Perhaps she did not understand. Suppose we issue her a proper invitation?”
“Do you mean that we should write one for her?”
“Precisely my meaning,” Niall said. He procured a piece of fresh parchment and put it on Charles’ desk. “Now, what do you think we should write?”
“That she must come back,” Christopher suggested. “But we must say please.”
“Very good, Master Christopher. Now, Master Charles, mayhap you have an idea as to how to improve on his composition somewhat.”
“I believe so,” Charles said. “What if I were to write: ‘Dear Miss Fulton, please join us in the nursery for dinner tonight’?”
“Excellent. Do write that, exactly.”
Niall watched with mounting impatience as Charles wrote out each word with agonizing care. There was no time to lose as, once it was written, dried, sanded and sealed, Niall must still lower it on a string to Miss Fulton’s window and pray that she discovered it before too much time had passed.
“Shall I pull the bell for Carter to deliver it?” Charles asked when he was satisfied with his work.
“I believe it would be best if I rang him from my room,” Niall advised, taking the parchment to his own desk. “Now, whilst I am absent,” he said as he quickly sanded the letter, “the two of you must make a most solemn vow to behave.”
“Of course we shall, Mr. Doherty,” Charles insisted. “We are not always naughty.”
“Indeed, you are not,” Niall said with a sense of wonder at its truthfulness. “I believe we have Miss Fulton to thank for this discovery.” He held the wax stick to melt over a candle flame.
“She will come, will she not?” Christopher begged.
“We shall hope so,” Niall said absently. He dripped just enough wax onto the folded parchment to ensure its closure, and rushed from the room to his own. Retrieving the string that still hung from his window, he secured the letter and lowered it down. Before he closed the window, he waited for the sound of the wax seal as it tapped against the glass of the pane below. Satisfied that Miss Fulton would be alerted, he waited for a sign that she had read his message.
However, after a few minutes, Niall determined that he could wait no longer. Tying his end of the string to the window latch, he reluctantly returned to the schoolroom. To his relief, nothing of note occurred whilst he was away. He read to the lads until the dinner trays appeared.
The three of them were desultorily stirring their respect
ive bowls of soup when Miss Fulton appeared in the doorway, bearing her tray. “Might I join you?”
Niall jumped to his feet, as did Charles, who crowed his delight.
“Have you had our letter, Miss Caro?” Christopher asked more sedately.
“Indeed, I have, and I thank you,” she replied.
“Allow me to take that for you,” Niall suggested as he relieved Miss Fulton of her burden. “Master Charles and Christopher, take up the other trays and follow me.” He turned to her as they made their way into the next room. “They most usually eat in the nursery, but we thought it best to wait for you in the school room since that door is nearly always open. We did not wish to appear inhospitable.”
Miss Fulton nodded her approval. “Shall there be a place at the table for each of us?”
“You shall have my chair, Miss Caro,” Charles insisted.
“No, indeed. I could not take your place. I do not know that I am so very hungry, anyway. You take your dinner far earlier than I do most nights.”
“I am that hungry and all of the time,” Master Christopher said fiercely.
Niall and Miss Fulton shared a smile of amusement over the tray of food.
“Perhaps Miss Fulton, who insists she is not hungry, shall allow you to consume her dinner in her place,” Niall said in jest.
“You, sir,” Miss Fulton said with a playful smile, “are impudent.”
In the end, each enjoyed a full plate. It was a merry meal, one which alternately filled Niall with happiness and highlighted the loneliness of his position. When they had finished, he rang for someone to take away the trays. He then banished Miss Fulton to the school room whilst the lads readied themselves for bed. Once they had climbed under the blankets, Niall went in search of their dinner guest.
She again stood at the bookcase, perhaps in admiration of her work, when he entered. “You must be tired.”
Her answering smile of gladness as she turned to him nearly took his breath away. “Not at all. I have been thinking how I might while away the hours until I fall asleep. Though, there are not many books here that I have not already read; how very disappointing.”
O'er The River Liffey (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 12