“And you, Captain Cathers, how do you find America?”
“I'm dying to see the rest of it,” he said. “The untamed West calls. The visit here is a courtesy call from my parents, but 111 be dragging poor Hartley off on a train as soon as possible and then across mountains and deserts. He needs building up, you know. Poor chap had a badridingaccident. Hovered between life and death for months. Only just back on his feet now.”
“How terrible for him.”
“Absolutely. Had to resign his commission, of course, and still gets dizzy spells. We're hoping that fresh air and exercise will bring additional improvement.”
I glanced back at Justin, sitting alone at the table, and fought with a stab of guilt. Then I reminded myself how the accident had happened in the first place.
The music ended. Instead of escorting me back to my seat, Captain Cathers held onto my arm and led me to the table where Justin sat. “Come and meet my friend, Miss Gaffney,” he said. “I hate to leave him sitting alone, but he doesn't trust himself to dance any more.” I could think of no good reason not to comply.
“Justin, old bean. Here’s a girl from the old country I'd like you to meet. Miss Gaffney from Limerick. The Senator’s cousin. Miss Gaffney, this is Mr. Hartley.”
“I'm afraid I don't dance any more, Miss Gaffney,” Justin said, rising to his feet. “Lack of balance, I'm afraid. Maybe you'd care to join me in a stroll on the terrace.”
Again I couldn't back down without looking rude. I just had to trust my luck a little longer. Maybe I looked so different in my grand ball gown with my hair up that he wouldn't recognize me even close up. He offered his arm. I took it. We strolled out through the French doors into the darkness. The cheerful notes of the Strauss waltz drifted out of the open windows. The lights threw shadows across the lawns to where the dark shape of the river flowed past. It was muggy outside but it was all I could do to pre-vent myself from shivering.
“You are from a good Irish Catholic family, I presume, Miss Gaffney?” Justin asked.
“I am indeed, sir.” I stared out across the lawns, unable to look at him.
“In Limerick, that would be?”
“In Limerick, sir.”
“Where a delightful drive to the south brings one to ancient Bunratty Castle?”
“No, sir, that would be a drive to the northwest.” I had done my homework well and he was quiet for a moment. I wasn't sure where the conversation might be heading. Perhaps it was his way of making small talk. Then he blurted out, “And what would your good Irish Catholic family say if they knew how many of the Ten Commandments you had broken?”
I know I must have started. “What a strange thing to say, sir. Do you make a habit of insulting young women?”
“No, only young women who deserve it. Miss Gaffney from Limerick indeed! You are no more Miss Gaffney than I am the man in the moon!”
At this point I could confess and smooth things over or I could bluff my way out. I've always believed attack was the best form of defense. I stepped away from him, giving him my most haughty stare.
“I don't know what this is all about, Mr. Hartley, but I find you most offensive and your behavior extremely strange.”
“So you deny ever having heard of Molly Murphy of County Mayo, do you?”
“There was a Molly Murphy in my class at the Sacred Heart Convent in Limerick,” I said, still eyeing him coldly, “but I never heard that she moved to County Mayo.”
I saw his expression falter. “I could have sworn …, ” he muttered.
“An easy mistake,” I said, nodding graciously, “since I understand that we Irish colleens all look alike to foreigners like your-self. And didn't I just hear you say that your eyesight is poor, following some sort of accident?”
We stood there staring at each other. Who knows where the conversation might have led, had not Captain Cathers come out through the French doors. “Oh there you are, Miss Gaffney.” I thought I heard a snort from Justin. “Mrs. Flynn was wondering where you had disappeared to. She has a headache and is going home.” He glanced from Justin to me. “I say, I hope I didn't interrupt anything.”
“Not at all,” I said, moving past him toward the room. “If Mrs. Flynn is going home, I think I'll accompany her. It has been a tiring day. Please excuse me, gentlemen.”
I left them on the terrace and found Theresa. “I'm ready to come home with you, Cousin dear,” I said, slipping my arm through hers.
In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)
Rhys Bowen's books
- Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
- Bless the Bride (Molly Murphy, #10)
- City of Darkness and Light (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #13)
- Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)
- For the Love of Mike (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #3)
- Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)
- In a Gilded Cage (Molly Murphy, #8)
- In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)