by Shelley Gray
“Because I’ve asked you to. Could you do that, Maeve? Could you meet us at Hope House on Sunday afternoon? She wants to take a look around.”
“Sean—”
“Please, Maeve? Eloisa needs something more than I can give her. And I hate to admit it, but I’ve already told her you would be there.”
“Sean.” She glowered, but little by little her exasperated expression lifted, and she slowly smiled. “I’ll be there at two o’clock. If you two come traipsing in a quarter after four, don’t expect me to still be standing around.”
“Never.”
“I hope she’s worth it.”
She was. Though they’d only had a few conversations, Eloisa was fast becoming someone very important to him. Not that it mattered, of course. It wasn’t as if they would ever have a future. “She’s just a friend, Maeve. Just a friend who needs to give a helping hand.”
She sighed. “Now that that’s settled, is there anything else you’d be needing, besides a home-cooked meal and me helping out your lady-friend?”
“Only a pretty smile from you.”
“Jack would say you’d have to earn those.”
“No, sister. Jack would say you should smile a lot more, seeing as he’s such a good man and takes good care of you.”
At last her posture softened, as it always did when she talked about her husband. “I smile at my man when it’s warranted. And it ain’t always warranted, you know. He’s a good man, but he’s only a man.”
“You’re a hard woman, Maeve,” he stated, thickening his Irish accent so he sounded like one of the dock workers fresh off the boats.
She chuckled low, letting him know the tension between them had been broken. “Oh, Sean. I promise you this. You don’t know the half of it!”
CHAPTER 10
Hope House was located in a section of the city Eloisa had only passed through by bus or elevated train. The area wasn’t a particularly dangerous one, but it was certainly not a place she’d ever had the occasion to visit.
Though now, as she walked up the narrow lane where the old house resided, Eloisa came to the realization that her existence had been even more sheltered than she’d previously thought.
The more she ventured out and about, the more she realized that she really hadn’t been to many places in the city at all. The more she gathered her courage and ventured beyond Sable Hill and its surrounding areas, the more it was apparent that she had much to discover about her hometown.
It made her excited and optimistic for her future. Made her wonder if the Lord had decided to enter her life again. Maybe even possibly leading her onto a new path where she could learn to see everyone and everything with his eyes. See that there was beauty everywhere . . . she’d only need to be brave enough to look.
Sean glanced her way, concern flashing in his hazel eyes. This, she was learning, was a frequent occurrence. From the moment he’d met her at the lending library, he’d stayed firmly by her side, even going so far as to glare at men on the grip car who had eyed her just a little too closely. Knowing that he took her welfare so seriously made her feel safe.
In fact, the longer she was in his company, the more she felt at ease.
No, it was more than that. She felt free. Free to be herself.
When she glanced his way again, she was surprised to see that a hesitant curiosity now shone in his eyes.
“So, what do you think of it, Miss Carstairs?”
Forcing herself to look back at the house, she attempted to come up with the perfect descriptor. “It is intriguing.”
To her pleasure, he grinned. “Now there’s a polite way to describe it.”
She couldn’t resist smiling as well. Eloisa was slowly coming to realize that when the lieutenant relaxed, his faint Irish accent grew a little stronger, and his smiles became more frequent. Unfortunately for her, those things made his already handsome features mesmerizing. One warm look from him made her heart beat a little faster and tugged at her carefully built defenses.
With a firm resolve, she turned away from him and back to the house.
What an architectural muddle it was! A sprawling structure, its two stories and attic were a bohemian blend of limestone, whitewashed bricks, and old-world charm. She imagined that one could easily get lost inside it. Perhaps not even be found for days.
At one side of it lay a small park, really little more than a mass of abandoned land and weeds. On the other side rested a row of cramped houses, each looking in danger of falling apart during the next winter storm.
“I’m not merely being polite, Sean. I truly am intrigued by its possibilities. This house has character. Potential too.”
“I suppose it does have potential.”
Eloisa turned to him, then felt her neck flush as she realized he was looking at her and not at the house. Another rush of nervousness coursed through her. Something was happening between them that she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Uh, what was Hope House originally, Sean?”
“It was originally constructed as a home for some high-and-mighty banker. When the area started to decline, he sold it to a developer. It was then used as a hospital. Later, an asylum.”
She shuddered. The house’s history was indeed varied and, she decided, somewhat dark. Imagining the cluttered rooms inside, and what the occupants who had lived in them must have been like, she wondered if it really could become worthy of its current name—Hope House.
Sean continued. “Eventually, this place became a boarding house. Then, just three years ago, a widow from Maine decided to give it its new identity.” He flashed a quick smile. “Next thing we knew, she was telling anyone who would listen about this place of refuge. Before long, women and children were moving in. My sisters—especially Kate and Maeve—volunteer there.”
“And the women and children are doing all right?”
“Maeve says they are.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “It goes to show you that almost everything and nearly everyone can rise out of the ashes.”
She liked how he’d used the words almost and nearly. It made his statement more believable. “That’s a lovely sentiment, don’t you think?”
Her escort scoffed. “Lovely?”
A cool wind blew down the street, rustling leaves as she shrugged. “It’s nice to imagine that almost anything or anyone can be repurposed. Become useful.”
“I believe that to be true. But, uh, I feel I should warn you that only small miracles are being done here.” His voice was full of doubt as he glanced around the rather rundown area and then stepped a little closer. “Miss Carstairs, are you sure this is where you want to spend your time? I can’t help but think that other places in far better areas would be just as pleased to be at the receiving end of your attentions and money.”
“Your suggestion is a bit premature, don’t you think? I haven’t even stepped foot inside.”
“I merely don’t want you to feel like this is the only place where you might do some good.” Before she could say a word, he rushed on. “For example, I have heard that many women do good works with their church. Or serve on committees. Or, um, attend teas.”
“Perhaps I should point out that I have more experience than you with charity work and volunteer opportunities for young women.”
He flinched at her tart tone. “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”
“I know you want to protect me, Lieutenant, and I’m grateful for your concern. But I already am quite active in the ladies’ auxiliary club at my church. Furthermore, our city’s library already has a large share of benefactors. The last thing it needs is someone like me to get involved. But this place certainly does.”
“But—”
“No buts.” She cut him off as she started up the home’s front walk. “This is a place that has reinvented itself several times, much like its occupants.”
He scratched his brow. “You might be romanticizing things a bit. The women and children here are s
tarting over. However, they are much like this area. They didn’t have a whole lot to begin with. Now they’re only more rundown.”
She was surprised he didn’t see the bigger picture.
Or was it that he didn’t think she was capable of seeing it? “No matter what the history, here this house still stands, in all its glory. Giving hope.”
“Such that it is.” The lieutenant cast a wary eye her way. “I still feel that you might be imagining that things are a bit too rosy.”
“Will your sister be here?”
He grimaced. “Maeve promised she would.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go inside?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” A flutter of nerves filled her stomach as she lightly placed her gloved hand on his forearm. The muscles under his coat bunched, stiffened, as if preparing to bear her weight.
Or maybe it was just a simple reaction from her touch.
Looking at her hand on his coat, she couldn’t help but notice the differences between them. Her glove was white and one of many specially made to her measurements. His coat jacket was made of inexpensive worsted wool, undoubtedly slightly scratchy to her touch.
At that moment, as they ascended the steps, she was suddenly very worried she was overdressed. Her gown of pale-blue worsted wool, which seemed so plain and utilitarian in her elegant bedroom, now seemed far too fancy and pretentious for the work her heart hoped to accomplish. A tremendous wave of apprehension flowed through her.
She might not know this area, or what exactly the women and children had gone through, but she’d made it her life’s work to study her surroundings and the people within them. Always, she’d been able to fit in.
Unfortunately, she had a terrible feeling she was about to be disregarded without saying a single word, simply because she looked so out of place.
“Do I look all right?” she blurted when they were almost at the door. “I mean, do I look appropriate? Or terribly overdressed?”
Sean’s head whipped toward her. First he met her eyes, then, with a long, slow look, his gaze slowly fluttered downward, skimming her lips, her neck, her shoulders, her clothes.
She stood straight and proud, unsure, and too conscious of the new flutters that filled her. This time, though, they had nothing to do with her insecurities and everything to do with a handsome man’s appraisal. This man.
At last he exhaled. “You look beautiful, Eloisa.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you look fine.”
“You don’t think I will stick out like a sore thumb?” She fingered the fabric of her sleeve. “Perhaps I should have worn a different dress.”
“A different dress wouldn’t have made a difference. Nothing would have.”
“You sound so certain.”
“I am.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he ran a thumb along the length of her jaw. “I think even in burlap you would look beautiful. It simply cannot be helped.” While she digested his words, realizing that she’d just received one of the sweetest compliments in her life, he rested his hand on the door handle. “Come now. Let’s go inside before my sister gets too impatient.”
When she felt him rest his palm on the small of her back, carefully guiding her forward, she smiled. “Well, that mustn’t happen. I never thought I’d see a man like you afraid of his sister’s wrath.”
“Maeve has two children of her own and could easily manage a family of twelve,” he said dryly. “She certainly did her best to manage me when we were growing up. Believe me, you don’t want to get on her bad side.”
A giggle escaped her just as Sean opened the door and motioned for her to precede him.
As he closed the door behind him, she realized their arrival had indeed been anticipated. A handful of scrubbed boys and girls dressed in utilitarian dresses and shirts and trousers were watching her the way so many people examined the curiosities at the World’s Fair.
Several women stood behind them or off to the side. Those women’s expressions showed nothing but unease and suspicion.
And right then and there, Eloisa knew Sean Ryan’s words had been correct. Nothing she wore was going to make her fit in here. She was out of her element, and everyone in this entryway knew it. Including her.
Hoping to show that she wanted to make friends, she met their eyes and smiled softly. “Hello.”
Not a single person responded. If anything, Eloisa’s weak attempt at friendliness seemed to arouse even more disdain. She tried again. “I’m pleased to meet you all. My name is Eloisa Carstairs.”
One of the younger women’s eyes widened, then the corners of her lips lifted. “That you are.”
Eloisa wasn’t sure what that meant. She certainly wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Confused, she glanced at Sean.
A curious mixture of resignation and irritation tugged on his features. After gazing at her softly, he turned to the cluster of women. “Come now, everyone. No need to be putting on airs, right? I told Miss Carstairs here that you were a friendly group,” he continued in the same tone of voice. It was a bit coarser than his usual tone with her. A bit deeper.
Little by little, the postures of the assembled women relaxed. One almost smiled.
“Sean’s always been a charmer, he has,” one lady said as a dimple appeared in her cheek. “So much so, it’s a wonder that he hasn’t been snapped up by a whole host of eager girls on Haversham Street.”
“Those days were a long time ago,” he mumbled.
“Not so much,” a dark-haired woman snapped, giving Eloisa a very strong impression that she’d just met his sister.
“Maeve, thank you for meeting us here,” he said.
The woman he was speaking to, a striking brunette with blue eyes the same color as Lieutenant Ryan’s, raised her eyebrows. “I told you I would be here. ’Course, you didn’t tell me you would keep me loitering about in the entryway while the two of you chatted on the front stoop for a good ten minutes about Lord-knows-what.”
Eloisa had no idea why Maeve was needling him, or why all the women there were looking at her like they hoped she would turn away and leave them in peace as soon as possible.
However, she was determined to make a good impression. Not wanting to wait for Sean to formally introduce her to his sister, she stepped forward and held out her hand. “Mrs. O’Connell, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having me here. I don’t wish to inconvenience you too greatly. I just wanted to get a tour, and your brother was kind enough to offer his escort.”
Maeve stepped forward and grudgingly shook Eloisa’s hand. “It weren’t too much trouble, miss. We don’t get cause to put on our Sunday best and mingle with our betters much, anyway.”
“Maeve, mind your tongue,” Sean warned from behind her.
“I’m only speaking the truth.”
“And then some.” His voice gentled when he looked at Eloisa. “Given that this is a shelter for women and their children, I am not allowed to go any farther than this entryway. But I’ll wait for you here until you’re ready to leave.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? I could get home on my own.” At least she hoped she could.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said, his eyes warm and impossibly kind. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Aren’t you the gent, Sean?” Maeve muttered. “Well, Miss Carstairs, I suppose we must get on with this. First of all, these ladies come from all over the city. They live here free of charge while they heal from whatever injuries they might have sustained or until they decide where to go next.”
Stunned that Maeve would speak so plainly in front of the residents, Eloisa glanced at the women. Some of them would hardly look at her. But one or two of them were gazing at her shyly.
Smiling gently, she asked, “How did you all hear about Hope House? Did the police bring you here?”
A lady with curly, blonde hair cleared her throat. “Not me, miss. I heard about the place from one of my old neighbors’ sisters. She said the women who worked here treated people real nice. Like it we
ren’t their fault they were here.”
Eloisa swallowed back a cry of dismay, afraid to say the wrong thing. But inside, a dozen comments and questions bubbled forth. She was both curious and filled with the need to offer as much assistance as possible.
But also in that mix was a burgeoning notion that everyone in the room was only humoring her, that they all thought of her as nothing more than a simple-minded debutante with too much time on her hands.
It was disheartening to realize that in many ways that may be the truth. She was, indeed, looking for an escape from her everyday concerns—and from the haunting memories that threatened to overcome her when she had nothing else to occupy her mind.
“May I have that tour now?” she asked. “And please, do call me Eloisa.”
Maeve stepped forward. “I’ll be glad to show you, Miss Carstairs. Let’s start in our drawing room, if I may? It most likely pales next to what you’re used to, but we’re mighty proud of it.”
With effort Eloisa bit back a reply, both to the rather judgmental tone and the continued use of her last name. She decided not to offer her first name again. She had a distinct feeling that it would be ignored. With a peek over her shoulder at Sean, who was watching her with an impassive expression, she followed Maeve and entered the maze of rooms.
The drawing room was an open space decorated in shades of gray and blue. The furniture was obviously a cluttered compilation of castoffs from other places. But even to Eloisa’s discerning eye, it had a calming aura.
Continuing on, they crossed into another area, this one with two desks and a shelf containing no more than a paltry dozen books. “This here is the library,” Maeve said.
“It looks to be in need of books.”
“Well, some girls can read, others can’t. So I guess it’s fair to say that a reading tutor would come in handy too.”
“Perhaps I could help with that in some way?”
Maeve shrugged. “How you wish to help is up to you.”
After following Maeve down a dark, narrow hallway covered in faded, rose-colored wallpaper, they came to another small room, really nothing more than a large closet. It held a couple of dolls and a bin of wooden blocks. “This here is the playroom, such that it is. Some of the children like to have a space of their own. It’s their mothers’ saving grace, it is.”
