Emily Baker (11 page)

“Mrs. Eagan?” Silas Polhaven stood in her doorway. “That Mr. Lynch is here again. At least this time he asked if ye were ready ta see him.”

Maura closed her eyes. She’d thought of little else since Freddie stormed out last night. Shameless. The stern voice of her mother echoed. She agreed. She both longed for and dreaded this meeting, her first sight of Garrett Lynch since he kissed her last night.

She opened her eyes. Only last night? It felt like a lifetime ago. She hadn’t even been sure he would show up now that his goal of forcing her out of Freddie’s life had been all but accomplished.

“Show him up, please. And would you send word to Mrs. Polhaven we will be over to interview the girls in about five minutes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me ta stay this time?” Mr. Polhaven’s chin tilted down and he perused her over his reading spectacles. “The man upset you something fierce yesterday.”

“No.” She smiled and shook her head much as she had done when Gerald had offered to escort her to and from the shop this morning. “I’ll be fine. I just want a word with him before we go over.”

“Very well.” The older gentleman’s fatherly gaze lingered just a little longer. “But I’ll be nearby if ye need me. The whole visit.”

He turned and trudged down the steps. For a dour, taciturn man, he really was very sweet.

Was she ready to face the man who had ripped her carefully constructed façade away so easily? Make that plural. She had tried so hard to see herself as more, but with his devastating kiss Garrett had shown her not only that she was indeed the woman of easy virtue her mother condemned but that her plan to save Freddie from himself had been a sham, more selfish than selfless. She was a fraud.

Footsteps on the stairs. She straightened some papers on her desk and tried not to think about the feel of Garrett Lynch’s lips on hers, claiming her heart, her mind, her soul. She tried not to think of how lost she had felt when he left her last night. How soiled his offer on behalf of Freddie’s grandfather had made her feel. How contradicting were her feelings about the entire mess.

Then he was there, filling her doorway. He looked very handsome in his well-tailored Corbeau broadcloth coat, buff trousers, and Wellingtons. The green of his jacket set off his eyes to perfection. He held his hat in his hand, and his gloves dangled carelessly from his pocket.

“Maura?” Just her name, but both his penitent tone and the softness in his eyes hit the right notes of hesitation and apology. A small kernel of warmth inside her longed to respond. She resisted. He was good. He was very good.

She stood up. “I prefer to be called Mrs. Eagan here.”

He kept his gaze fixed on her but didn’t say anything. She rushed to fill the void. “This is my place of business and I find the use of my formal names garners a better response from both my customers and my students.”

“Very well.” He inclined his head. “Mrs. Eagan.”

“I . . . I . . . wanted to speak with you before we meet the girls to make sure you will be sensitive to their situations.” She stepped around the corner of her table. “They are here seeking fresh starts, trying to forget the mistakes they made or the ones forced upon them. We treat them with respect.”

“Of course.”

“If they get upset, you must let me handle their questioning.”

“Agreed.” So amenable.

“If you mean that, it will help if you let me know exactly what you are looking for.”

Something in his gaze shifted as though he were considering what to tell her. And yet he seemed sincere in his desire to find his cousin and these other missing young women. After a moment, he nodded and squared his shoulders. “Similarities in behavior. In what happened to them. Were they abducted or coaxed? Was this by a stranger or recent acquaintance? Where were they? Do they remember locations? Anything may help, no matter how small or insignificant it seems to them.”

“You really are looking for someone, aren’t you. Jane is real.”

He nodded without flinching from her bald questions. “I am not a total cad. I really am trying to find her. And I am sorry if I offended you last night.”

She shrugged and struggled to ignore the pain welling inside her. “A woman in my situation gets used to the insults, the slights. You merely helped me to remember the impulse that got me involved in this life in the first place.”

His cheek ticked. “Maura, I never meant . . . what happened—”

“What happened accomplished one goal for you.” She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “I hope we can as easily dispose of this one and you can be on your way. And, I would like to remind you, I prefer Mrs. Eagan here.”

Even to her own ears, and knowing how she wished she could just crawl under the table, her answer sounded steady, mature, focused on the girls and not on herself. She’d be more than pleased if she could carry off the rest of this agonizing visit with such aplomb. Pleased indeed. Best to get moving before her knees turned any further into jelly.

“I apologize, Mrs. Eagan. I will not forget again.” His expression was solemn. His tone sincere.

“Then let us be off.” She offered brightly as she advanced toward the doorway he still blocked. “Please follow me. Mrs. Polhaven has cleared her office in the other building for us to use. She will send in our most recent residents, one at a time.”

An hour later they had interviewed almost all of the new girls, to little avail. Only one claimed to have been approached by a stranger inquiring into the status of her virtue, and he had been scared off when he learned she already had a beau. The incident had also taken place more than a year ago.”

The last girl knocked tentatively on the door. “Mrs. Eagan? I brought ye one of the handkerchiefs I’ve been working on. I was wondering if ye might check the stitching on the monogram and see if it’s fine enough ta pass.”

“Let me have a look at it, Caitlin.” She took the square of striped cotton from the girl as she sat in the chair indicated for her. She was a short brunette with wide, freckle-flecked cheeks and an even wider smile.

“The stitching is beautiful,” Maura exclaimed. “The hems are straight and even, and you have got a real knack for the embroidery. Is this a special order?”

Caitlin beamed, then looked suddenly worried. “No, Mrs. Eagan. It’s jest somethin’ I’ve been working on in my spare time. If ye’ll allow I’d like to send it ta me grand-da. His birthday’s next month. I can pay ye from me nest egg.”

“Nonsense. You send this to your grandfather. I bet he would be thrilled to get a present you made yourself.”

“Thank ye.” Caitlin beamed. Then she glanced shyly up at Garrett as he perched on the corner of Katherine Polhaven’s desk.

“Caitlin, I would like you to meet Mr. Lynch. He is going to ask you some questions about what happened to you before you came to us.”

Cailtlin’s soft blue eyes rounded. But she nodded. “I don’t much like ta talk of such things.”

“Perhaps you can start by telling me about your nest egg?” Garrett smiled. He looked so innocent and charming as he attempted to draw the girl out. Maura had been very relieved throughout the interviews. He hadn’t pressed any of them. He’d managed to hit the right note with each one, to get information without making the process painful. He had stopped his probing as soon as there had been any sign of distress or it was clear there was no connection to the cousin he sought.

“Our nest egg’s the money Mrs. Eagan pays us fer our stitchin’,” Caitlin explained, eager to be helpful. “We spends a goodly portion of the day cutting and hemmin’ and working up ta fancy pieces. She keeps it on account fer us, and we get it ta help us move on when we’re ready.”

“Their work is sold in the shop. The profit goes to them,” Maura said as he turned to her.

“Commendable.” He smiled. Maura’s stomach did a rebellious flip. “You teach them a skill, give them a fresh start. What else?”

“There’s plenty more ta what we do. Mrs. Eagan helps us with our speech, and some of the girls are learning ta read. Mr. Polhaven teaches us sums so we’ll be able ta manage on our own. Mrs. Polhaven sees ta everythin’ else. She helps us care fer our clothes, leads us in prayer each mornin’ and night, and takes care of us if we’re feelin’ sick or sad or afraid.”

“Do you ever feel afraid, Caitlin?”

She shook her head. “Not since I came here. The priest what found me brought me to Eagan’s.”

“Found you?”

“Aye, and I thank the Lord fer him every day. I was going ta throw myself in the river and he caught me. The man what brought me ta Dublin had left me flat soon’s I told him ’bout the babe. I couldn’t go home. I had no money, no food, and I couldn’t do what my landlady wanted me ta do.”

“You have a child?”

The haunted look left Caitlin’s eyes. “Oh, aye. My little Jenna. She’s a real sweetheart.
Mo muirnín.
She’s why I aim ta learn as much as I can here. So I can give her a good life, with a good mam, not one living from one man ta the next. On my own.”

“Good for you. Your Jenna sounds like a lucky girl to have you for a mother.” Garrett was doing a good job of keeping the disappointment from his demeanor. It had to be there though. All the morning and no closer to even a slender connection to his missing relative.

“Thank you, sir.” Caitlin smiled. “And thanks to Mrs. Eagan. I never want my Jenna ta go through whatever that poor Mary had to suffer.”

“What poor Mary?” He squared his shoulders.

“Aye, wretched soul.” Caitlin sighed. “She sits so quiet most of the time, like she’s someplace far away where no one can touch her. And when she does rouse it’s either with shuddering screams or repeating the word
diabhal
over and over. Sometimes with the word
sliahb,
most times not.”

“Devil and mountain.” Garrett repeated. “Devil and mountain. Thank you, Caitlin. Good luck to you and your daughter.”

After getting a nod of permission from Maura, Caitlin rose from her seat. “Thank ye, sir. I hope ye find what ye seek.”

Before the door had clicked shut behind her, Garrett was on his feet. “I need to speak to this Mary.”

Maura shook her head. “You cannot. She is in very precarious health. There is only a very slim chance she would know anything of value, and even less chance that she’d be able to tell you.”

“I still need to see for myself. To at least try.”

Maura shook her head. “She cannot bear the sight of any man. She is still terribly frightened by whatever happened to her.”

“How did she come to you?”

“The same priest who brought us Caitlin. They had found Mary wandering the road outside Bray in Wicklow. They were going to send her to a home for the insane and Father John intervened. Even Mrs. Polhaven is afraid we may never be able to reach her.

“Wicklow, you say. That is something at least. Although very far from where Jane was last seen. Please let me try to talk to her. I will keep it very brief.”

“What would you ask? You cannot ask her about what happened to her. It is far too frightening.”

“I would ask about Jane and if she has any idea where she had been before she was found. Any information, no matter how small, may help.”

Maura thought for a moment. He was urgent in his request and his eyes gleamed as though he were close to what he wanted. If Mary had information, how could she not help? Maura blew out a quick breath.

“I could ask your questions for you.”

“Agreed.” He nodded.

Several minutes later, Maura crouched by the chair where Mary rocked in the sunshine flowing through the window. Her unseeing gaze was fixed on a point where the wood held the glass panes in place. She looked so very young. How could anyone have thought to hurt her, to treat this scrap of a child as if she were a woman grown. The doctor had confirmed the fact she had been terribly abused by some man, or men even. The very thought sickened Maura.

“Mary.” She covered the girl’s hand with her own. “Mary, I want you to remember you are safe here. That no one is going to hurt you or make you do anything. You are safe. If you want to talk, when you want to talk—or not—is up to you. One step at a time.”

The girl’s gaze drifted over to rest hazily on Maura. The slightest of smiles played about her lips. Did she understand? Maura plunged ahead, praying she could ask the right questions and not disturb the girl overmuch in her efforts. “I just want to know if you remember another girl who might have been wherever you were. A girl named Jane.”

Mary’s soft brown eyes focused.

“Jane,” she repeated not as a question. “Jane saved me.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Jane saved me.” Certain, even if voiced in a tremulous tone.

“From where
muirnín
? From who?”

But the horror was already building in the girl. She went rigid, and her gaze focused on things she should never have seen, memories she shouldn’t have to carry. “Jane.
Diabhal. Sliahb. Diabhal.
Jane. Jane.”

“Jane and Devil’s Mountain?” Maura squeezed Mary’s hand as the words she repeated became a litany and the litany came faster and faster.

“We will find her, Mary. We will save her too.” Maura squeezed Mary’s hand. “We will find her. I promise you.”

Katherine Polhaven was already bustling into the room from her post in the hall with Garrett as Maura turned. She was not about to leave the girl alone. Not while she was so rigid. She feared Mary might have another screaming fit.

“There ye go, lamb.” Katherine was using her most soothing motherly voice as she drew near and nodded for Maura to leave. “Ye passed on the information, now ye need yer medicine and a good rest. Ye did well, lass. Don’t fret yerself.”

As she exited the room she could see the girl reach out to Katherine, tears streaming down her face as the older woman gathered her into a hug. She wasn’t screaming or ducking back into her haze immediately. Perhaps she had taken another step in her recovery.