by Rhys Bowen
“I trust you have not found my companionship too unutterably dreary these past years,” Cousin Clara said in her prim little voice. “And if my presence is no longer required here, then maybe I should speak to your husband about returning to the bosom of the family in Virginia.”
“Oh Clara, don't be so silly,” Theresa said.
“So I'm silly now, as well as boring and dull. What a pathetic excuse for a woman,” Clara said. She rose to her feet. “Maybe I should retire to my room until I am needed, since I only aggravate and bore.”
Theresa grabbed her sleeve. “Clara, please sit down. Do. You're embarrassing my guests, and of course I am most grateful for your companionship. What would I have done without you in the bleak years of my despair? Have another eclair, do. You know how you love them.”
She offered the plate and Cousin Clara took one, casting a black look in my direction.
“I shall not be staying long, Cousin Clara,” I said, “and hope that my visit will not cause any disruption to the running of this household.”
“How sweet you are, Molly.” Theresa gave me her dazzling smile. “And I do hope that we can persuade you to stay for as long as you like. This house is on the wrong side of the river so we don't get as much company as I would like.”
Yes, it’s certainly wild over here, isn't it?” I said. “Is there no settlement on this side of the river then?”
“There’s a small hamlet about a mile down the road in one direction, and some farmhouses in the direction of the military academy, but there are only two great houses nearby—ourselves and our neighbors, the Van Gelders.”
You have neighbors?” I stared into the trees but saw no sign of another house.
“Riverside, the house is called. Van Gelders have lived there since the first settlements. Not exactly the friendliest of neighbors, since Mr. Van Gelder Senior was once Barney’s political rival. But now they are no longer rivals, we are on social terms again. In fact, we are invited there to dinner tomorrow.”
“I understand they have visitors from Europe,” Clara said, looking quite animated for her. Young men, Belinda.”
“Clara, I am perfectly able to select my own beau, thank you,” Belinda replied.
“Your dear mama has paid to send you all around Europe and you've come back empty-handed,” Clara said. “Not a count or a duke in sight.”
Belinda laughed. “How quaint you are, Cousin. It was never my desire to marry into European aristocracy. A red-blooded American boy is allrightforme.”
“You sound as if you might have one in mind,” Theresa said, glancing at her sister.
“As a matter of fact I do.” Belinda gave a mischievous smile. “He doesn't know it yet, but he will.”
“We mustn't bore Miss Emily and Miss Ella with our family gossip,” Theresa said. “Where can Eileen have got to? I wanted them to meet her. Alice, run and tell Nurse that we are waiting to have the child brought down to us.”
The servant curtseyed and went into the house.
'Your family is well, I trust, Miss Gaffney?” Cousin Clara asked.
“Very well, thank you.”
“I believe your poor dear mother passed away recently?”
“Three years ago now, although it seems like yesterday,” I said, lowering my eyes so that I looked suitably bereft. “And my father preceded her, and two little brothers from diptheria within weeks of each other.” I paused. “So now I'm left with just the one brother and two sisters, both married.”
“It’s such a comfort to have a family though, isn't it?” Theresa said. “I know I'd never have survived these past years without the love and affection of my dear ones,”
She looked up as we heard light steps on the marble flooring and a small girl emerged, holding onto the hand of a large, crisply starched nanny. Unlike Theresa, the child was dark-haired and had huge dark eyes, with which she looked around the company in alarm.
“Go to your mother, child.” The nurse sent her across to us with afirmshove. “Give her a kiss.”
The little girl moved slowly toward Theresa, who bent her cheek to receive a peck. “How are you today, Eileen?” Theresa asked.
“Very well thank you, Mama.”
“And what have you been playing today?”
“With the doll’s house that Papa bought me. Nursy made new bedclothes for the baby bed and she’s going to knit a new shawl for the baby and . . .”
“We don't need to hear every detail, child. I'm glad you enjoy the doll’s house. Now I want you to shake hands with our guests. These two ladies are both called Miss Sorensen.”
Eileen was pushed across to them. She looked up seriously “How do you know which one is which if you have the same name?” she asked, then looked confused at the titter of laughter.
“Eileen, that’s not a polite way to greet people,” Clara said. 'You hold out your hand, drop your best curtsey, and say, 'Pleased to meet you.' Go on. Do it.”
The little girl responded. Then she was directed to me.
“And this is Papa’s cousin, all the way from Ireland,” Theresa said. “Shake hands with Cousin Molly and give her a curtsey.”
I took the little hand in mine. “Will you show me your doll’s house later? I never had one of my own and I've always wanted to play with one.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes. I'd like that. Why didn't you have a doll’s house? Were you very poor?”
“Eileen! Gracious, what will the child say next,” Clara muttered.
“Don't scold her,” I said. “It was a natural thing to ask.” I squeezed her little hand and smiled at her. “I'm not asrichas you are, and doll’s houses are a luxury. But I did have a favorite doll when I was growing up. Do you have a doll’s pram? We could maybe take your dolls for a walk some day.”
She was gazing up at me adoringly. I bent to kiss her little fore-head. “We'll have some grand times together, won't we?”
She nodded and lingered hopefully at my knee.
“All right, Eileen. That’s enough of you. Have you had tea in the nursery yet, Nurse?” Theresa’s voice was sharp.
Yes, ma'am. The child has already had a good tea.”
“Then maybe just one cookie as a treat.” Theresa reached across and handed a frosted ginger cookie to the child, who took it solemnly. “Off you go, then.”
Eileen glanced back at me as she took her nurse’s hand and they disappeared into the house.
“What a delightful little girl,” I said. “I'm sure she gives you a lot of pleasure.”
“Yes,” Theresa said. “I'm sure she does.”
But I got thefeelingthat the child gave Theresa no pleasure at all.
Eight
The child had only just gone and I was wondering whether it would be polite to take a second sandwich or a biscuit when masculine voices were heard from inside the house and three men appeared. I'd seen enough pictures to recognize my supposed cousin, Barney Flynn, but in the flesh he was even more imposing than his photographs. He was not very tall, but a well-built man, with a strong Irish cleft in his chin, a high complexion that indicated a life in the fresh air and a good head of red-brown hair on him. He was wearing a well-tailored light suit, although without an ascot at the neck. When he espied me, there was the proverbial Irish twinkle in his blue eyes and a smile that lit up his whole face.
“Well, would you look here. She’s arrived!” he exclaimed in a voice that bore a trace of Irishness, even though I knew he had been bom in New York. “My little cousin Molly, Cousin Rose’s child. I'd have known you anywhere.”
It was gratifying to know that I bore a family resemblance. I got to my feet. “I am indeed, sir, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Would you listen to her talk,” Barney said, turning to the two men with him. “Straight from the old country. Isn't she a delight?”
Barney grasped my hand and shook itfirmly. “But let’s have none of this formality. We're family here and you're as welcome as the flowers in May to dear old
Adare.” He laughed at his own joke. “I hope youll be happy here, and more to the point, I hope you can bring Theresa out of her doldrums.”
“I'm sure she will,” Theresa said. “I've already fallen in love with her completely, my dear. If all your cousins are this delightful, then I might decide to undertake a trip to Ireland some time.”
“We live very simply compared to this,” I said. “Not a great house among us.”
“Wealth isn't everything, Molly,” Theresa said. “Money does not buy happiness, as Barney and I know only too well.”
“But I always say if you're going to be miserable anyway, it’s better to berichand miserable rather than poor and miserable.” The man to Barney’s right chuckled at his own wisdom. He had a loud, booming voice which matched his large person, his round, red face, piggy eyes and thinning sandy hair. Not the most attractive of men and probably somewhat older than Barney—although the latter had surprised me with the number of lines on his face. I had expected a young man, but his face was definitely careworn when he wasn't smiling. Who could blame him, having gone through what he had endured?
The large man came up to me and held out a beefy hand. “I'm Joseph Rimes, Miss Gaffney. Barney’s adviser, strategist and right-hand man. I trust youll enjoy your stay here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rimes. I hope so indeed.” I nodded my head demurely, then glanced at the third member of the party. This had to be the pallid secretary Desmond O'Mara. Again not the most attractive of men. He had light hair, a pale face and the lightest of bulging eyes, giving the impression of a fish on a slab, and he wasn't regarding me with welcome in those codfish eyes.
Barney saw me looking at him. “Oh, and this is Desmond,” he said, tossing him off with a wave of his hand. “My secretary.”
“Miss Gaffney.” The man inclined his head. I did likewise.
“So have you boys finished your hard work for the day?” Belinda asked.
“We came out for a breather,” Barney said. “Have we missed Eileen?”
“Already made her appearance and gone again,” Belinda said, smiling up at her brother-in-law in what might have been a rather flirtatious manner. I wondered if Theresa had noticed, then I suspected she had as she said, in a flat voice, “If you want tea, I think you'll find it stewed.”
“No matter. I only wanted to see if our new guest had arrived and to say hello to my daughter,” Barney said. “Was she in good form?”
“She says the most outlandishly funny things without meaning to,” Belinda replied. “No sense of propriety at all.”
“Definitely a chip off the old block, eh, Barney?” Rimes slapped him on the back.
Theresa frowned. “I'll ask Cook to brew another pot if you'd like.” She rose to her feet.
Barney waved her aside. “Not necessary, my dear. I think well bring out the whiskey decanter instead, to celebrate a good day’s work.”
“I don't quite understand why you need to work in summer,” Cousin Clara said. “Is the Senate not in recess until fall?”
“You understand correctly, Cousin Clara, but there is a small matter of an election next year,” Joseph Rimes said. “Barney is up for reelection. The campaign strategy has to start now.”
“But surely everyone loves Barney,” Belinda said. “His reelection will be only a formality?”
“One hopes that will be true,” Barney said. “But you never know with politics. This new fellow they're putting up against me—he’s old money and will have the power of all those Vanwhosits backing him.”
“And more charisma than the last opponent next door.” Rimes nodded to his left.
“Watch what you're saying, Joe,” Theresa scolded. “We still have them as neighbors, however our politics may differ.”
“You think my voice is loud enough to carry that far?” Joseph Rimes asked, a grin on his large red face. “Or do they have spies, snooping in the shrubbery?”
This provoked general laughter.
“Aren't we supposed to be suffering through an evening with them some time soon?” Barney asked.
“We are dining there tomorrow night. I told you about it at breakfast. Honestly, Barney, you are hopeless. You never listen to a word I say.” Theresa frowned again. Tomorrow night, remember, so don't go making other plans or finding boring political people you just have to talk to.” For a frail dove, she could be quite forceful if she wanted to, I noted.
“And you haven't forgotten about tonight, have you, Barney?” Theresa continued. “The séance? Miss Emily and Miss Ella are going to try and contact Brendan for us.”
A spasm crossed Barney Flynn’s affable face. “I'll leave that to you ladies, if you don't mind. If we're going to start chatting with the dead, there’s a few fellows might want to come back and tell me what they think of me.”
“It’s no joking matter,” Miss Emily said in her deep smooth voice, “but if you don't wish to get in touch with your little son, then that’s entirely up to you.”
Theresa reached out and grabbed Barney’s hand. “Oh do come. Please do. You want to know that he’s all right, don't you? You'd like to hear his voice again?”
“Of course I would, it’s just…” He glanced across at the two women and left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
Miss Emily had risen to her feet and tapped her sister on the arm. “If you would please excuse us, Mrs. Flynn. We need to rest and prepare ourselves mentally if we are to contact the spirits to-night. The room must be set up to make the atmosphere conducive to their appearance.”
Rigged up, more like it, I thought to myself and wondered if I might be able to spy on them I also got to my feet.
“Would you also think it very rude of me if I went to lie down also? The rigors of the journey are just catching up with me.”
“Of course, dear cousin.” Theresa beckoned to the maid who stood in the doorway. “We are about to retire inside ourselves. You men are welcome to sit out here and be eaten alive by mosquitoes. Alice, please show Miss Gaffney to her room and bring her up some hot water. I trust her trunk has already gone up? Good.” She smiled up at me. “We dine at seven-thirty, Molly. Nothing too formal. It is the country, after all, and then you are more than welcome to join us at the séance.”
“I'd be delighted,” I said, and departed with a polite bow.
“She’s really quite civilized, isn't she?” I heard Belinda’s clear voice floating after me. “Apparently all the Irish live don't in bogs.”
“This way, miss,” Alice said, hurrying me across the black and white marble-tiled entrance hall and up the wide main staircase. A stained glass window above the front door threw a rainbow of colors onto the dark carpeted stairs. At the second level a wood-paneled gallery ran around all four sides of the stairwell, with doors going off it. From inside one of these I heard a child singing in a sweet, clear voice. Little Eileen was relaxing after her teatime ordeal. Alice turned me to the left and headed around to the front part of the gallery. “The mistress thought you'd like to have the view,” she said and opened a door at the end of the hallway.
It was a comer room with windows at the front and side of the house, giving me a view of the Hudson and the rocky hillside beyond the lawns. A writing desk sat in one window and the bed was placed to enjoy the best of the view. An electric fan turned lazily in the high ceiling. The room was delightfully cool. The scent of the flowering creeper climbing up the house, mingled with the smell of newly mown grass, drifted in through the open windows.
“Thank you. I shall love it here,” I said, noting that my valise had already been unpacked and my dresses hung in the mahogany wardrobe. I was about to dismiss the maid when I remembered that I had a task to fulfill.
“So how long have you been with Senator and Mrs. Flynn, Alice?” I asked.
“About two years now, miss.”
“Not very long, then. Are you fitting in well? Are the others making you welcome?” I gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s not always easy fitting into a household, is it?�
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“As a matter of fact it wasn't too hard,” Alice said. “Most of the girls haven't been here much longer than I have. Mrs. Flynn doesn't seem to keep servants too long. I don't know why. She’s been nice enough to me.”
“I expect they all run off and get married,” I said, giving her a knowing look that made her blush and giggle. “Any handsome male servants around?”
“Ooh, miss, you shouldn't talk that way. The mistress doesn't want us walking out with the male servants. We'd get dismissed on the spot.”
“I suppose she doesn't want another Albert Morell on her hands,” I said.
Alice put her hand up to her mouth to stifle a squeak of terror. “We don't mention him, miss. The devil himself, that man was, by all accounts. Cook says she knew he was up to no good when he helped himself to her meringues, after she'd made sure she'd done therightamount for a dinner party too.”
“How disgusting,” I said. “I wonder why Senator Flynn hired him in thefirstplace if he was such a tricky character.”
“I wouldn't know, miss. He had a way with automobiles, and with horses too, so they say.”
“What else do they say about him?”
She looked around nervously. “I shouldn't be gossiping like this, miss. I'd get in terrible trouble if the mistress knew. Albert Morell was before my time, thank the good Lord. It’s all over and past and they've put it behind them.” She headed for the door as rapidly as possible. “Just ring the bell by the door when you're ready for your hot water,” she said. “I'll have Cook stoke up the boiler to make sure it’s nice and hot.”
Then she curtseyed and was gone.
They obviously hadn't put it all behind them, I thought as I wandered the room, inspecting the furniture. If they had, there would be no need for tonight’s séance.
I took off my hat, unbuckled my shoes, and flopped back onto the bed. Ring when I wanted hot water, indeed. I could easily adapt to this kind of life. Maybe I should just forget about earning a living and keep Theresa company all summer.
