“A child’s face?” I saw the color drain from her cheeks as she gave me a momentary look of alarm. Then she forced a smile. “It must have been a trick of the light, my dear. There’s nobody in the house. Certainly no children. But where are my manners?” She became spritely again. “I’m Mrs. McCreedy. And it’s a terrible welcome to Connemara you’ve had. Let me take you to your quarters and I’ll cook you a nice hot breakfast.”
She stepped outside discreetly while we tried to locate enough items of dry clothing to dress ourselves, then we followed her past the looming rough stone walls of the castle and down a path to a small cottage nestled among trees. What’s more it looked like my definition of a cottage this time, whitewashed and thatch roofed, just as one would find in Ireland. The trees that surrounded it were already turning gold and red so that it made a charming picture with the blue ocean beyond. I gave a little gasp of pleasure.
“Reminds you of home does it?” the woman said. “I know. I get quite homesick myself every time I look at it. I’m from Galway myself, and I can hear that you’re from that part of Ireland too.”
“A village near Westport,” I agreed. “And Alderman Hannan must be from the region himself if he called his home Connemara.”
“He is indeed,” the woman said. “The family fled from Galway in the great potato famine. He came to America as a young child. Both his parents died when he was twelve years old and he’s been supporting the family ever since. I wouldn’t say he’d done badly for someone who came with nothing, would you?”
I turned back to look at the castle. In daylight it was not quite so foreboding, but it had been definitely built to look like an old bastion, such as one would see in the Irish countryside. The walls were of rough-hewn stone, partly covered with ivy and Virginia creeper that had turned to a delightful shade of red. The windows were arched and recessed, there were crenellated battlements along the roof and in the corner a turret rose—with a window in it. A window at which I could swear a child’s face had appeared last night. All around it were perfectly manicured grounds, with stands of trees, flower beds, a tennis court, an ornamental fountain. The whole scene was framed by blue ocean beyond.
“The grounds are beautiful,” I said. “I’m not sure it would be my choice of house.”
“Nor mine,” she said. “I’d go for comfort myself and the way the wind whistles down those high hallways in winter makes the place impossible to heat.”
Daniel, I noticed, had not been contributing to the conversation. I suspected he did not like being caught out in such a disheveled state. His pride and dignity had been hurt and they were important to him. The housekeeper seemed to realize at the same moment that she and I had been ignoring Daniel. She turned back to him. “So you’re a friend of the alderman are you, sir?”
“Not a friend but the alderman and I are acquainted. And when he heard that our honeymoon had been ruined, he was kind enough to offer me the use of this place.”
The woman’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, yes, he’s a kind and generous man. As softhearted as they come when he wants to be, although I hear that in business he’s as ruthless as a tiger.”
“Is he now?” Daniel said.
We had reached the front door of the cottage.
“And it is your honeymoon too. Fancy that,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “Well, that nasty old storm has passed now. You can set about enjoying yourselves.” She opened the front door and stood aside for us to step into the hallway. The house certainly didn’t smell like a cottage from home. For one thing there was no lingering smell of peat fire, nor that combination of damp and furniture polish that one equates with old houses. This was a new house made to look old, which was confirmed when Mrs. McCreedy said, “You’ll no doubt be wanting a bath. There’s a lovely bathroom upstairs with the bedrooms. And plenty of hot water too.”
We needed no second urging. Half an hour later we came downstairs looking civilized to find eggs and bacon waiting for us. The horrors of the night before were forgotten.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, wiping down her apron and giving a satisfied nod. “The larder should be well stocked, but if you need anything I’ll be up at the big house. They’ll all be coming this weekend so there’s plenty to be done with bedrooms to be aired out and supplies to be brought.”
“‘They’ll all be coming’?” I asked. “The alderman’s family, you mean?”
“The whole lot of them.” Mrs. McCreedy gave us a look of complete vexation.
I looked enquiringly at Daniel. “I thought you said the cottages were not used at this time of year.”
“Nor are they normally,” Mrs. McCreedy answered for him. “Everything is usually shut up for the winter by now, but I gather Mr. Archie is taking part in some kind of boat race this weekend and the alderman has invited the whole family down. But it’s not mine to reason why. He gives the orders and I carry them out. And I’d best get moving if I’m to have everything ready by the time they get here.”