O'er The River Liffey (Power of the Matchmaker) Read online

  “So, you spent the afternoon with Mr. Wilkinson,” Caroline suggested, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Yes, and he was very good-natured for a man with a broken foot. He is an Englishman, of course, but ever so pleasant and kind. I hope to sit with him again today if I am allowed.”

  “That puts me in mind of something,” Caroline said in tones of fabricated impartiality. “I am to meet Mr. Doherty in the music room again after breakfast, do you not recall? However, Lady Bissell has insisted that the lads not attend. Perhaps you would enjoy giving them a lesson in French or history whilst we practice?”

  “What of the nursery maid?” Fiona asked.

  “I do not know,” Caroline mused. “I suppose if Lady Bissell wishes to request it of Miss Deakin, it is entirely her own affair. Perhaps we ought to ask her when we see her.”

  “I do not mind it, truly I do not,” Fiona replied. “It is only that I am not certain it is wise to allow you and Mr. Doherty to remain in a room together, unchaperoned. I shall be most glad once this song has been sung and you shall behave as if he does not exist, as promised.”

  Caroline felt as if she might sink under the weight of her guilt. “Indeed, but we have agreed that it is best to go through with it so as to avoid unpleasantness. And what of you and Mr. Wilkinson alone in his room?”

  “That is an entirely different affair,” Fiona pointed out. “He is an invalid and needs someone to tend to him.”

  “I do not see how my situation differs so widely from yours,” Caroline asserted. “All shall be aware of exactly where Mr. Doherty and I shall be, and with Lady Bissell’s blessing.”

  Fiona said nothing, but she did not hesitate to register her frustration as she tied up Caroline’s gown with more than required force.

  Finally, when they were gowned and coiffed, they descended to the breakfast room. They were rather late, and only the baron and Lady Bissell remained.

  “Ah, I have been waiting for your arrival,” Lord Bissell said. “I have taken Lady Anne’s complaints to heart and intend to spend time with my lady guests today. What say you to a jaunt into the village?”

  “Do say you will go,” Lady Bissell urged. “We intend to hold a ball before the week is out and I am persuaded you ladies shall require a frippery or two.”

  “Shall we, Caro?” Fiona asked. “If there is a lending library, perhaps I might look for a book for Mr. Wilkinson.”

  “Of course,” Caroline said. “We should both be delighted to accompany you, Lord Bissell. However, I have a prior engagement directly following breakfast. I shall be through in an hour or so. Might we meet in the front hall at half-past eleven?”

  “Splendid,” the baron said. “We shall take luncheon at the tavern, shall we not?”

  “That would be lovely,” Caroline agreed. “In that case, we shall have only a light breakfast.”

  She and Fiona went to the sideboard to discover that only cold toasted bread and smoked salmon remained.

  “I perceive that going forward,” Caroline whispered for Fiona’s ears alone, “we must be down to breakfast all the sooner.”

  “Indeed, yes,” Fiona agreed.

  They returned to the table and took up their seats. “Lady Bissell,” Caroline ventured, “shall Miss Deakin entertain Masters Charles and Christopher whilst Mr. Doherty and I have our song practice?”

  “I am afraid not,” Lady Bissell said with a distracted air. “I have pressed her into service in the kitchen. One of the girls is sick, and between that and Mr. Wilkinson’s injury, I am woefully short of help. Would you be willing to sit in the school room for an hour, Miss O’Sullivan?” she asked.

  “I should be delighted,” Fiona replied.

  “Thank you. Now,” Lady Bissell said as she rose to her feet, “I must see to a great number of things today. I shall see the two of you when you return from your shopping expedition.”

  As Lady Bissell left the room, Caroline returned her attention to the baron. “You have said, my lord, that there is to be a ball. How lovely. Shall the neighbors be invited or shall we remain your sole guests?”

  “I believe she,” he replied, looking in the direction of the departed Lady Bissell, “has already invited more guests than the ballroom can hold. We shall contrive, however,” he added with a practiced grin.

  “I for one am very much looking forward to it,” Caroline attested. “I cannot think, however, of a single thing that I shall need in the village. Nor can you, is that not right, Miss O’Sullivan? Perhaps we ought to stay behind,” Caroline suggested, the highway robbery foremost in her thoughts.

  “No, indeed, Miss Fulton!” the baron exclaimed. “I regret that we have not had an opportunity to become acquainted.”

  “The house party is to last a fortnight, is it not? There seems to be time and enough,” Caroline said with a diffident smile.

  “Be that as it may,” the baron asserted, “I should like to have you by my side today. I was most impressed with your skills with a whip. I have never seen a young lady tool a car or cart or carriage of any sort as you did yesterday. I find it quite fascinating. I find you quite fascinating, and should like to learn more about you.” He said this as if Fiona did not sit between him and Caroline.

  “In that case, my lord, I should be pleased to come along to the village.” Briefly, she wondered what she must say to undo the damage of such a lie. “Am I correct in assuming your invitation extends to Miss O’Sullivan, as well?”

  “I would be a brute to deny her a visit to the lending library, would I not?” He rose to his feet. “I shall count on the both of you to meet me in the front hall no later than half past eleven.”

  “We shall be there,” Fiona said, rather breathlessly.

  Once the baron had fully exited the room, Caroline turned to her friend. “What is it about the notion of time spent with the baron that you find so thrilling?” she teased.

  “You are funning me, I know, but ’tis not the baron I have in mind. I am glad that I shall be able to choose a book for Mr. Wilkinson. It shall assist me in seeing him through some painful hours. The physician left laudanum, of course, but the dosage does not equal the pain. I only wish to distract poor Mr. Wilkinson.”

  “You are very kind,” Caroline soothed. “Well, then, since the balance of the day is all but arranged, I shall repair to the music room to await Mr. Doherty.”

  “And I shall go directly to the school room. I believe it is just the floor above ours?”

  “The door shall be open; it always is,” Caroline said happily.

  However, once she found herself alone in the music room, she began to feel some misgiving. She was behaving just as Fiona had warned her against; entertaining the attentions of Mr. Doherty, a man she would never be allowed to marry and who was far too dear to treat so callously. She could not think how to break it off with him, nor did she wish to. She wanted to spend every moment in his company, to get lost in his tales, to study his speaking hands and eyes; to stand with his strong arms around her, his warm lips pressed against hers.

  She was startled from her reverie by the sound of his voice murmuring from the other side of the door. Her heart began to pound; the rattle of the knob as it turned was as welcome as music. The door began to creak inward, but still he spoke with someone in the passage. Just when she thought she would expire of anticipation, the door swung wide, and Mr. Doherty stood on the threshold.

  “Good morning, Miss Fulton,” he said with a light bow. “May I come in?”

  “You are expected,” she said tremulously. She could not say when she was ever so happy to see anyone, and yet she felt as if she might break down in tears with the slightest provocation.

  He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I should not like to disturb anyone with my caterwauling.” He looked round the room as if to ensure that they were alone.

  Caroline laughed. “Caterwauling? You jest, surely!”

  “Indeed, I do not!” he said in spirited tone
s that failed to coincide with the intensity of his expression.

  In her estimation, his eyes should have been dancing and his mouth curved into one of his rare smiles. Instead, he looked at her with an eloquent bemusement that revealed his emotions: incredulity that she should care for him mingled with certainty that it would never lead to their mutual happiness.

  “Shall we sit at the pianoforte?” he asked, indicating the instrument with a sweep of his hand.

  “Of course.” She rose from the sofa and took up her seat. He sat beside her just as he had the morning prior. Someone had been in the room since, and she found it necessary to shuffle the music until she found the right piece. “Ah, here it is. Shall we begin?”

  “Perhaps we had best stand at the window,” he suggested. “Yesterday you proclaimed the light to be better there.”

  “Did I? Well,” she said, somewhat flustered, “there seems enough light today, does there not?”

  “Indeed, there does,” he said as he lifted his arm to shift the music a trifle closer to him.

  “I rather thought it perfectly placed where it was,” Caroline said, risking a glance into his face.

  “Very well, then,” he said, lifting his arm again to restore the music to its former location.

  Caroline minded not in the least as each movement of his arm caused his shoulder to brush against hers, just as it had the day before. It was hardly an embrace, but it was enough for the moment. “I suppose we ought to sing. If we do not, passersby might wonder what prevents us. Perhaps they might even enter the room to see for themselves.” She felt herself blush at the possibilities her words implied.

  “If someone does enter, there shall be nothing untoward to be seen,” he replied as he once again moved the music.

  “Mr. Doherty,” she said with a laugh. “I begin to think you require spectacles. Do you truly require the music to be so far to your side?”

  “No, I do not,” he murmured as he gazed into her eyes. “However, every time I move it, your face turns the most delightful shade of pink.

  Miss Fulton’s eyes grew wide in mock indignation. “I perceive that I am merely a figure of fun to you.”

  “That is a lie, Miss Fulton,” Niall replied, playfully, “and a cruel one, to be sure. But, please do continue speaking,” he added, lowering his voice. “As long as we are heard to banter no one shall think ill of us.”

  “What is the use of being alone,” she said with an enchanting pout, “if we cannot indulge our wishes?”

  “And what are your wishes, Miss Fulton?” he asked in airy tones that repudiated the manner in which he brought her fingers to his lips.

  “I do not think it wise to say,” she said in a trembling voice. “Perhaps it is better if we talk of other things. Let us begin with whom it was you were speaking to in the passage just before you entered.”

  “’Twas only Carter.” With a sigh, he returned her hand to the keys of the pianoforte. “’Tis not often he sees me downstairs without the lads, and he wished to know of what I was in need. I informed him of our musical alliance and, I must say, he was not precisely pleased. No doubt he has his heart set on you becoming the next baroness at Oak View.”

  “Indeed, he has not!” Miss Fulton exclaimed. She paused and favored him with a dimpled smile. “I do think it best if we should be heard to sing, if even only a little. I have no wish for Lady Bissell to put her head into the room and see you casting such amorous glances in my direction,” she added with a laugh.

  “I have done no such thing,” he said with a sheepish grin. “As for Lady Bissell, she should not be in the least happy were she to witness such a scene. Carter is not the only resident of Oak View who would choose you over Lady Anne.”

  “Do you truly think so?” she asked too happily for his comfort. “I had not realized you thought of Lady Anne as a threat to my future here,” she added with a saucy smile.

  “Had you not?” he echoed, his feelings wounded. He wondered if she had thought of his future at Oak View. “Tell me, what am I to do should you become mistress here? Am I to carry on as if I did not feel what I feel?” he asked with a hand over his heart. “Should I pretend I do not know your feelings for me, as well? What of the baron, your husband? Would he have me here if he knew?”

  Her face fell. “Please, Mr. Doherty,” she begged. “What if you were overheard?”

  “Pray, forgive me,” he said with a sigh. “It is wrong for me to burden you with my troubles.”

  She put her hand on his arm and gazed at him, her eyes blue as a summer sky. “To whom else may you speak of them? And yet, I do not know what you shall do. I do not know what I shall do. I am only thinking as far ahead as tonight, when we shall sing together for the baron’s guests.”

  He possessed himself again of her hand. “And I can do naught else but look past tonight and beyond. When I close my eyes, you inhabit my dreams, my home, my world. Always, you appear perfectly at ease. It is as if you belonged there. And yet, how can that be when I see you in a home that has been lost these six years past and more?”

  “Do you doubt, Mr. Doherty?” she asked in a manner more candid than he had ever known her to adopt. “You have made your request and your sacrifice. There is nothing remaining but for you to speak with my father.”

  “Your father; now that is a task more daunting than to clear two miles of land in a single day.”

  “But why?” she asked in genuine bemusement.

  He could not help but smile at her innocence. “The king’s son had the aid of magic to build his castle, but Mr. Fulton’s pride can be moved by no one but himself.”

  “Yes, I see,” she said sadly. “But suppose there was a miracle, and he did not insist I marry a title; did not forbid me to wed the one I wished?”

  There were never sweeter words, but he dared not allow himself to fall under their spell. “Should I be the one,” Niall replied, “I should be the happiest of men. And yet,” he said earnestly, “’twould not be right.”

  “But it is right for Lord Bissell to possess my dowry to spend as he pleases?” she retorted.

  “If you should marry the baron, you would have his title and this house in exchange for your dowry,” he patiently explained. “Not to mention the London townhouse, the horses and carriages, a sponsored entre into London society, and who can say what else?”

  “And if I were to marry someone else,” she said with a delectable attempt at opacity, “I should exchange my money for happiness.”

  Again, he denied himself the bliss such words induced. “I am correct in this, I know that I am,” he insisted, “yet somehow you make it sound as if I am in the wrong. What strange magic is this?” he asked with a windy sigh.

  “Ah, Mr. Doherty,” she said, turning her attention to the keyboard. “A magician must be allowed her secrets.” Smiling, she stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. “Now, if you are ready to permit it, let us sing.”

  As they sang, Niall attempted to recall when he had last felt so happy. Surely it was on account of his newfound knowledge: that to love and to be loved in return was the greatest of joys. Miss Fulton, as she sat beside him at the pianoforte, appeared to be every bit as content. They sang and smiled and sang some more until Niall became comfortable enough to play a few simple songs. She played some as well; silly tunes that had him thumping his feet in time to the music. He could not remember laughing so often in the whole of his life.

  His state of pure contentment began to decay when there came a sharp rap at the music room door. Niall hadn’t time to react before it was opened and the baron stood in the doorway. “Miss Fulton, did we not agree that we should meet at half past? It is now a quarter past noon.”

  “Oh!” she gasped, her face drained white. “I had not realized it to be so late.” She turned stricken eyes to Niall. “I am to go shopping in the village with Lord Bissell. Miss O’Sullivan is to come along, as well. Only,” she added as she rose and went to the baron’s side, “I needs must go fetch my th
ings.”

  “Of course,” Lord Bissell said with a bow and a censorious look for Niall, who had also risen and sketched a bow. “I trust you are providing my brothers with an adequate education, Mr. Doherty.”

  Niall knew a twinge of uneasiness. He had forgotten all about his students, their half-brother, and all that did not involve Miss Fulton. “I shall go up immediately and send Miss O’Sullivan down to you,” he said, executing another bow.

  “See that you do,” the baron said shortly and was gone.

  Humiliated, Niall pounded up the back staircase, the full weight of his situation a burden past bearing. He was a man who was neither this nor that, neither here or there, one continually forced to navigate two very different worlds. Though he did not truly belong to either, he was expected to know them both to perfection.

  His step lightened as Miss Fulton returned to his thoughts. Now that she was to go into the village, her safety was the main source of his apprehension. He had not known the baron long enough to determine what he might do if presented with the muzzle of a gun and ordered to turn over his valuables. Nor did Niall know if he was capable of adequately protecting the most valuable Miss Fulton and her friend. At the very least, he was determined to ensure the baron had a pistol secreted in the carriage.

  He reached the school room and dashed through the doorway. “Miss O’Sullivan, I must beg your pardon for being so late. Miss Fulton has just gone to her room and shall meet you in the front hall. Lord Bissell already waits.”

  Miss O’Sullivan swept past him without a word, leaving Niall free to formulate a plan. He turned to the lads. “Shall we have an early walk today?”

  Charles and Christopher instantly clattered to their feet and skipped into the passage, Niall directly behind them. He did nothing to discourage their enthusiasm, and raced along behind them. They were required to descend three staircases and did so in record time, noisily arriving in the front hall just as Lady Anne approached the baron.