I wasn’t about to brave the storm and hoped that it might subside before the end of the day. In true Irish fashion of the weather never being the same for more than an hour, the rain did ease in the afternoon, at least enough for me to brave the long walk up Sackville Street to the offices of the Irish Times, where I placed my ad. I hesitated over whether to add the word “reward” but decided against it. Such an enticement might produce too many false leads.
As I walked back I had an odd feeling that I was being followed. I glanced around. The street was almost deserted and I saw nobody I recognized, but I quickened my pace. I was halfway down Sackville Street when the rains began again in earnest so that I was drenched through by the time St. Stephen's Green loomed through the fading afternoon light. I had forgotten how early it gets dark in Ireland the moment autumn closes in. The Shelbourne loomed like a safe harbor through the storm, and I ran up the steps and stood in the warm and comfortable foyer while lackeys rushed to relieve me of my sodden overcoat and hat.
“Fancy going out without an umbrella, miss,” one of them said. “You’d better have some tea before you catch pneumonia.”
Tea sounded like a good idea, so I let one of them carry my outer clothes up to my room while the other led me to a little table and had tea produced as if by magic. I had just finished my first cup and was pouring a second when I looked up to see a shadow standing over me. It was Mr. Fitzpatrick again, and he was beaming at me.
“Miss Delaney? I can’t tell you how happy I am to find you here. I’ve been searching all over Dublin for where you might be staying and nobody had heard of a Mary Delaney. I was quite dejected. I believe you mentioned your family, and I thought I might have no hope of contacting you. And now here you are, at the Shelbourne and having tea. How delightful.”
I don’t know why I had taken such an instant dislike to him. Maybe it was because he made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t help thinking that he knew exactly who I was and was enjoying this toying with me, like a cat playing with a mouse. To what end, I couldn’t imagine.
Without being asked, he pulled over a chair and snapped his fingers for a second pot to be brought. “So tell me how you like Dublin so far. Is this your first visit? But surely not, for you say your family is here.”
“It is my first visit,” I said. “I am from—” I was about to say county Mayo when I realized I didn’t wish to establish a connection to that county and to anyone who might have met Justin Hartley—”Galway myself, but I have an aunt and cousins who live here. And I am finding Dublin quite delightful.”
He nodded. “I always enjoy coming here. Of course I live in the States, but my interest is in race horses, and everyone knows that the best horses are bred in Ireland. Hence I am enticed back here again and again.”
“Do you have family here, Mr. Fitzpatrick?” I asked.
“Not anymore. My family immigrated to America, like so many of our countrymen. But I have come to know this city well, and I should be honored to show you around when the weather improves. There is to be a race meeting next week, point to point. Would you care to accompany me? It will be a jolly day and if one of my fillies wins, an even jollier return to the city. What do you say, Miss Delaney?”
“It's very kind of you, Mr. Fitzpatrick, but I can’t think why you are showing me all this attention and consideration.”
He blushed. “Isn’t a chap allowed to show attention to the prettiest girl in town? I mean, dash it all, Miss Delaney, I’m a visitor here like you and it can be quite lonely so far from home, and it would be no fun watching horses win all alone, so you’d be doing me a great favor by saying yes.”
A battle waged within me. I had no reason to see him as anything other than a keen young man. Perhaps I was overreacting, and he trulydidn’t realize that I was also Molly Murphy and had once been masquerading as Oona Sheehan. I managed a gracious smile. “You are too kind, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I accept your offer. I’d love to go the races with you.”
“Next Tuesday? Where may I call for you?”
“I’ll meet you here since it is so central and accessible for both of us.”
“Shall we say ten o’clock then? And let's pray for good weather.”
“You’re very kind.” I looked up to see the bellboy making a beeline for me. Since I knew he’d address me as Miss Murphy, I got to my feet hastily and went to intercept him.
“I just wanted to tell you, Miss Murphy, that the men have come for those trunks you’re having shipped,” he said. “They’re up in your room now. I gather they have received full instructions so there's no need for you to go up, but I just thought I’d warn you so that you weren’t alarmed if you barged in on them.”
“Thank you,” I said, “but I think I will go up and take a look for myself to make sure that they’re not shipping anything I’ll need during my stay.”
I turned back to Mr. Fitzpatrick. “Please excuse me. There's something I must take care of right away.”
He also got to his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)
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