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Authors: Maureen Lang
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whom Duff decided to go after finding Mr. Truebody absent. If you had stood in the blue room with me, Cosima, you would have seen the condescending look upon his face as clearly as I did. I could not imagine which he thought less of: a school for the infirm run by women or one of the infirm apparently having been abandoned.
“I’ve not a clue as to what you expect me to do, miss,” said the constable, holding his hat in his hand. Mr. Flegge was neither ugly nor comely, rather somewhere in between, with thinning hair, only a slight paunch, and a chin that had grown soft in middle age. “I cannot very well leave me duties behind to go searching all Ireland for the girl’s family, can I now?”
“Surely something can be done,” Berrie said. “From what she’s said, her brother will be very concerned about her.”
“Then it’s fair to assume he’ll be searching for her. Perhaps he’ll be contacting me office and I’ll show him to yer door straightway; of that you can be sure.”
Berrie sighed, knowing that unless she hired someone to search for Katie’s family, the task would not be done. But every bit of the funds she’d been allocated—either by donation or from her father and brother Peter—were tied up in getting things started. Even the sale of items left behind in Escott Manor that wouldn’t or couldn’t be used by their school left little money beside.
As Berrie wished the constable good day and he took his leave, myriad thoughts crossed her mind. She must do something . Post a notice in one of the newspapers? It was worth a try since clearly Katie’s family was literate, though it might not do much good if her family was from a rural area where newsprint circulation was limited. Perhaps she could spare Duff for a few days; he was reliable, hardworking, and honest—bright, too, for one so young. He showed such promise she planned to name him senior attendant once the children started arriving. She had been planning to send him out on a mission anyway. Perhaps he could accomplish two tasks in one outing.
One way or another, she would find Katie’s family. She must.
9
* * *
Rebecca rubbed her eyes, trying to banish the sting of fatigue. Glancing at the desk clock in her office, she realized she’d been reading Cosima’s journal far longer than she expected. It was nearly two in the morning.
But Cosima’s story had captivated her. Was Dana also affected by the Kennesey curse? Had she too given birth to a “cursed” child? She said she’d be bringing her husband and daughter.
Rebecca had known Cosima Hamilton only through her portrait and her somewhat limited legacy: decorating themes that no generation since hers had seen fit to drastically alter; a storybook she’d written for her children full of Irish rhymes and tales; a few recipes. So far, Berrie’s letters hadn’t revealed much more about Cosima.
Perhaps it was just as well Elise Hollinworth had shown no interest in either the American cousins or whatever correspondence they sent ahead. Learning the Hamilton line had been tainted by a curse wouldn’t be something Lady Elise would bring up in any of her circles.
Rebecca felt she really ought to go to her room and sleep. After Quentin’s mother had left just past ten, Rebecca had excused herself despite Quentin’s invitation to share a cup of tea. Herbal, he’d promised, without caffeine. But she had an appointment with a bride-to-be the following morning, and those oftentimes went on forever. She’d gone to her room, changed from the black dress into a soft T-shirt and cotton shorts to sleep in, then promptly found herself too wide-awake to sleep. So she’d headed to her office.
Even now, after several hours of diversion, the questions returned. Had she been a fool to decline extending an evening alone with Quentin? And why had he asked, anyway? Only being polite? Maybe she’d imagined the look in his eye, one that said he’d like to be with her.
But now she really
“I’ve not a clue as to what you expect me to do, miss,” said the constable, holding his hat in his hand. Mr. Flegge was neither ugly nor comely, rather somewhere in between, with thinning hair, only a slight paunch, and a chin that had grown soft in middle age. “I cannot very well leave me duties behind to go searching all Ireland for the girl’s family, can I now?”
“Surely something can be done,” Berrie said. “From what she’s said, her brother will be very concerned about her.”
“Then it’s fair to assume he’ll be searching for her. Perhaps he’ll be contacting me office and I’ll show him to yer door straightway; of that you can be sure.”
Berrie sighed, knowing that unless she hired someone to search for Katie’s family, the task would not be done. But every bit of the funds she’d been allocated—either by donation or from her father and brother Peter—were tied up in getting things started. Even the sale of items left behind in Escott Manor that wouldn’t or couldn’t be used by their school left little money beside.
As Berrie wished the constable good day and he took his leave, myriad thoughts crossed her mind. She must do something . Post a notice in one of the newspapers? It was worth a try since clearly Katie’s family was literate, though it might not do much good if her family was from a rural area where newsprint circulation was limited. Perhaps she could spare Duff for a few days; he was reliable, hardworking, and honest—bright, too, for one so young. He showed such promise she planned to name him senior attendant once the children started arriving. She had been planning to send him out on a mission anyway. Perhaps he could accomplish two tasks in one outing.
One way or another, she would find Katie’s family. She must.
9
* * *
Rebecca rubbed her eyes, trying to banish the sting of fatigue. Glancing at the desk clock in her office, she realized she’d been reading Cosima’s journal far longer than she expected. It was nearly two in the morning.
But Cosima’s story had captivated her. Was Dana also affected by the Kennesey curse? Had she too given birth to a “cursed” child? She said she’d be bringing her husband and daughter.
Rebecca had known Cosima Hamilton only through her portrait and her somewhat limited legacy: decorating themes that no generation since hers had seen fit to drastically alter; a storybook she’d written for her children full of Irish rhymes and tales; a few recipes. So far, Berrie’s letters hadn’t revealed much more about Cosima.
Perhaps it was just as well Elise Hollinworth had shown no interest in either the American cousins or whatever correspondence they sent ahead. Learning the Hamilton line had been tainted by a curse wouldn’t be something Lady Elise would bring up in any of her circles.
Rebecca felt she really ought to go to her room and sleep. After Quentin’s mother had left just past ten, Rebecca had excused herself despite Quentin’s invitation to share a cup of tea. Herbal, he’d promised, without caffeine. But she had an appointment with a bride-to-be the following morning, and those oftentimes went on forever. She’d gone to her room, changed from the black dress into a soft T-shirt and cotton shorts to sleep in, then promptly found herself too wide-awake to sleep. So she’d headed to her office.
Even now, after several hours of diversion, the questions returned. Had she been a fool to decline extending an evening alone with Quentin? And why had he asked, anyway? Only being polite? Maybe she’d imagined the look in his eye, one that said he’d like to be with her.
But now she really
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