Doves Migration

by Linda Daly

  Exasperated, she threw up her hands in despair. “I don’t know why I bother to put myself through this. Why does every conversation end up speaking of Tad or you doubting my loyalties? Just you being here should be proof enough. Yet you still question my every encounter with him. Why? Haven’t I told you every word that was spoken between us to gain your trust? What must I do to stop your nasty comments to me, which you know will only upset me?”

  Sheepishly Gilbert looked at her. “Its not you I don’t trust. It’s his lordship. And for good reason.” Dramatically he raised his arms and spanned the room before turning his attention back to her. “Might I remind you I’m locked up like some peasant in his lordship’s dungeon while he runs fancy free to do as he pleases and read poetry to the fair maiden.”

  “Please Gilbert, enough. You know I only have a few minutes to spend with you. Why must it be spent arguing?”

  “Arguing, you say? Why this isn’t arguing, lass. I was merely trying to find out how your day was. Can I help it that I find it irritating that you spent so much time with him, after you claim he means nothing to you?”

  Inhaling a deep breath to steady her frayed nerves, she continued in a strained whisper. “Well, to my way of thinking, this is indeed arguing. And don’t you dare insinuate I have romantic feelings for Tad. You know I can’t tolerate him even speaking to me because of you. What perplexes me is why I continue to allow myself to be put through this day after day when it’s obvious that my kindness has not been appreciated, nor that you will ever believe me.”

  Yearning for a sign of encouragement, or words of endearment to justify her decision to run away with him, it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she had misjudged his awkwardness around her. What if he didn’t show her affection simply because he wasn’t interested, rather than not believing he was worthy as she had convinced herself? Such a depressing thought caused her eyes to well up with tears.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, if there ever was a woman who could weep at a drop of a hat it would be you, Miranda. Why would you be crying now, lass?”

  Shaking her head, she turned and cupped her head in her trembling hands, managing to mumble, “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Aye … So I’m not as bright as his lordship, am I? Would he be able to understand?”

  Angered by such a comment, she turned on her heels and glared at him. “Why you pig-headed fool! Has it ever occurred to you that I was crying because in two weeks you’ll be leaving and it troubles me?”

  A smile crossed his lips, as he came closer to her. “My, but aren’t we the feisty one tonight. Much like that first day we met at the orphanage and I angered you. Remember when you were singing that little ditty with the wee ones?”

  Hearing him recall that day, her frown faded and she silently prayed he would at last express the love she hoped he felt for her. “I’m surprised you even recall that day.”

  “Why is that? I may have been run down, but me head works just fine.”

  “You’re impossible!” She spat in an exaggerated whisper. “I was merely pointing out I was surprised you recall the day we met, considering the fact that you remind me practically every day that knowing me has been a curse.”

  “Now Mandy, that’s not exactly what I said …” His eyes dancing merrily as he looked at her, chuckling.

  “And that’s another thing. Why must you insist on calling me Mandy?” Her tone raised more than she intended.

  Smirking and stepping closer to her he asked, “Would you prefer me to call you, my dear, like his lordship does?”

  Glaring at him, recalling how Tad had called her that in front of him, she stomped her foot and planted her clenched fists on her hips. Ready to retaliate, Gilbert stepped forward and gently placed his hand over her mouth. “Shh, I hear something,” he whispered urgently.

  Listening intently, she heard a strange sound and her heart raced in her chest. Fear showed in her eyes as she and stared up at him while clenching his arms. Lowering his hand from her lips, his hand rested on her cheek as they clung to one another straining to hear where the sound originated. As the minutes passed, which seemed like hours, Miranda held her breath frightened for Gilbert’s safety but she enjoyed his nearness, the feel his breath on her face. Still gazing deep into one another’s eyes Gilbert tenderly began to caress her cheek and slowly trace the edge of her jaw to her chin and finally back to her lips. Feeling his touch, her breathing became unsteady, more like short gasps as her heart raced.

  Whispering softly he said, “I call you Mandy, because it suits you when you get all riled up.”

  Smiling affectionately at him, she whispered, “In that case, I approve. Despite your enjoyment of upsetting me so.”

  “That I do indeed. You have a real fire in you … I pity the poor fool who ever crosses you,” he said.

  “Then keep that in mind the next time you deliberately try to antagonize me.”

  “Lass, I’m just havin’ a wee bit of fun is all. Just teasing mostly…” Pausing to look at her hand still clinging to his shoulders, he gazed back at her with a hunger she had never seen in his eyes before.

  Feeling his breathing intensify she boldly asked, “And now, Gilbert … Are you just having fun by teasing me?”

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he brought her closer to him as his lips came crushing down on hers. Eagerly she wrapped her arms around his neck and passionately returned his kiss when suddenly he pushed her from him and coarsely whispered, “This is wrong! You had better be going up to your room, where you belong.”

  Feeling ashamed and fearful he found her actions vulgar she said, “Why is it wrong Gilbert? I don’t understand.”

  “Are you daft? Isn’t it enough that I’ve sunk so low I’ve hidden behind a woman skirts to save my own skin like some coward? Do you think I want your pity too?”

  Unable to believe he thought himself to be a coward, or that she had kissed him out of pity she whispered, “Look into my eyes, Gilbert. Surely you can see what I feel for you is anything but pity.”

  “Just leave me be, Miranda. I’m not one of those orphans you tend to. I don’t need or want your charity.”

  “How insulting! Any man who can’t distinguish an act of endearment to that of pity or charity is either daft or just pig-headed. In your case, I would hazard to guess that possibly both applies.”

  Judging by the smirk on his face, Miranda knew Gilbert was not insulted by her comment, but amused by her flared temper. “Aye, so now I’m daft along with pig-headed. Well you might be right lass, but the fact remains that you and I are not suited for one another. So again I ask you, please Miranda, leave me be.”

  “No! Not until you explain why you push me away either by nasty insults or as you just have done.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to get mixed up with a bloke like me. What kind of future can I offer someone like you? In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a wanted man accused of murder. And if that weren’t bad enough, I’m hated for being an Irishmen … Hell, I can barely write me own name, let alone read poetry or fancy literature to you. All I know how to do is work, and like I said before, your kind has never earned a fair living with his hands in all your life.”

  There was no mistaking the pain in his eyes as he spoke to her, yet she refused to allow him to say such unkind words.

  “I told you before Gilbert, these hands have worked the fields to survive. So don’t you dare say such hateful things to me.” Angered that he would deny each of them what their hearts desired out of pride, she added sarcastically. “How generous of you to make this decision for the both of us without even consulting me. Do you have such a low opinion of me that you would even think I give two hoots if you are Irish or if you can read or write?” Then softening her tone, she hastily whispered, “What matters to me is your character. I look at you and see a man who never wavered from his convictions or integrity, despite the injustices you’ve endured.”

  “Aye, integrity you say. That’s why I hide in
some dank basement holding my breath every time I hear a strange sound.”

  “What choice do you have? Go to the authorities? Tell the truth and be hung because your accuser is more powerful than you are? There is no shame or dishonor in what you are doing Gilbert. What matters is that within a fortnight you will have a new start. A real chance to build a life for yourself. Don’t you see that?”

  Nodding, he said, “What you say may be true, but that still changes nothing between us. Not until I can offer you a life that’s deserving, will I ever let what just happened take place again.”

  Realizing that nothing she could say would change his mind—being as stubborn as he was—she shook her head discouragingly. “Considering the lateness of the hour, I’ll say good night. However, before I go, please keep one thing in mind. If what I desired was a man of means, then why am I down here this evening in your arms rather then in Tad’s?”

  Turning on her heels not waiting for a response, she quietly crept up the stairs. As she approached Alfred’s study she paused when she saw a light glowing from inside. Craning her neck around the door, she was surprised to see Alfred sitting in a chair looking directly at her.

  “Ah Miranda dear, having trouble sleeping?” he asked, rising from his chair while gesturing her to come inside.

  Hesitating for only a moment she nervously said, “Why Mr. Honeycutt, you startled me. I thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep this evening.”

  “Yes, well I had a few things on my mind. Please shut the door and come sit with me for a spell.”

  Obediently, she did as he asked and once seated, Miranda looked at him and saw that he was flushed. Concerned, she said, “Mr. Honeycutt, are you sure you are all right?”

  “Perfectly, my dear. Just a wee tired is all.”

  Never hearing him use that term, as the Irish did, she glanced at him suspiciously. Her eyes widened as she detected a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, yet somehow Miranda managed to keep her voice calm while speaking again. “As you should be, working as hard as you do. Shall I get you some warm milk form the kitchen? I find it most soothing.”

  “No, my dear. That will not be necessary. However, do not let me stop you from getting some for yourself. Assuming that is where you were headed.”

  Not hesitating in replying, she hastily said, “Actually, I’ve been in the basement, working on my special project.”

  “Ah, yes. Your special project. Perhaps it would be better if you moved your project to a vacant guestroom where you would be more comfortable. Surely, the lighting down there is poor. Why, as I recall the last time I ventured down there it reminded me of a dank dungeon.”

  Realizing Gilbert had said something similar only minutes earlier, her heart raced. Two comments in less than a minute was no coincident, was it possible he knew? she wondered while avoiding his eyes.

  “Oh I don’t mind. It serves it purpose quite well. Thank you for your kind offer though.” Then pretending to yawn and covering her mouth, Miranda offered an apology as she stood up. “Excuse me, I must be more tired than I had thought.” Smiling in his direction, she headed to the door careful to avoid eye contact with Alfred again.

  “Yes of course, Mandy.”

  Hearing his response, Miranda stopped abruptly. With cheeks blazing and her heart racing, Miranda slowly turned back to face the man who had obviously overheard Gilbert and her. With fear gripping at her heart she asked, “How long have you known?”

  “From the day he arrived of course,” Alfred replied boldly.

  “I see,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. Miranda closed her eyes to think of what she could possibly say to excuse her actions, feeling immense shame and fear at the same time.

  “Mr. Honeycutt, I’m at a loss for words … I never meant to deceive you. Please don’t notify the authorities.”

  “Miranda if that was my intention, I assure you, my dear that would have already been done. Why don’t you take a seat and we can discuss why you feel the need to leave with this man you barely know, but obviously care deeply for.”

  “How do you know …” In shock, unable to think clearly, her voice trailed off. Suddenly sick to her stomach and feeling as if the room was spinning around her, through a haze, she saw Alfred stand to take her arm.

  “Come over here and sit down Miranda, you’re overwrought and exhausted.”

  Glancing at him as he assisted her and seeing the look of concern on his face, tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh Mr. Honeycutt, I’m so sorry. I never would have dishonored your trust and hospitality if it hadn’t been a matter of life or death. You must believe me,” she sobbed hysterically.

  “Dear, you have not dishonored me. If anything, I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my grandson from having the blood of another on his hands. If you and Mrs. Myles hadn’t reacted so swiftly the night my grandson and his so called confidant ran that man over, I shutter to think what would have resulted from such a heinous act. Not only have you two women saved the life of an innocent man, but in doing so, I have come to know who the true perpetrator of David Sullivan’s murder was. And although Tad is not blameless in his actions, at least he has done nothing that cannot be rectified, with the exception of losing you that is. Which was why I felt the need to discuss Mr. O’Flaherty with you tonight.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Miranda said sheepishly through her tears. “Who told you … I mean, how did you know?”

  “Does that really matter, dear? What matters is that I have taken extra precaution to assure that Mr. O’Flaherty remains safe. Mind you dear, I did not say Tad. What he has done is inexcusable, but he is my grandson. After Mr. O’Flaherty has left safely for San Francisco, and has an opportunity to begin a new life with no fear of retaliation from Tad, I will see to it that his name is cleared of any wrong doing.”

  “Not that I doubt you, Mr. Honeycutt. But why are you doing this? And how can that be done, without exposing Tad’s part in this?”

  Smiling at her, he said, “In answer to your first question, do you think you are the only one who possesses scruples and morals Miranda? Throughout my life, I have tried to live by a code of ethics, which I believed were fair and just. In doing so, never once have I set out to physically destroy another man. It shames me that a member of my own family had such a lack of regard for human life that he was compelled to silence a man at any cost. As the patriarch of this family, it is my duty … No! It is more than that dear. I truly believe it is the least I can do for Mr. O’Flaherty who has suffered so great at the hands of a Honeycutt. As far as your second question—my dear Miranda—need I remind you that I am a man of means? Money does have a way of remedying even the most delicate situations. It won’t be the first time that new information has become available to our noble police force that clears a man of suspicion. So fear not, by the time Mr. O’Flaherty reaches San Francisco, he will be exonerated. Then both he and Tad can put the past behind them and rebuild a new life for themselves.”

  From an early age, Miranda had witnessed her father manipulating people and situations to get what he desired, and now hearing Alfred justify bribing officials merely to protect his good name and standing in society sickened her. His motivation to help Gilbert wasn’t merely to undo the injustices brought down on him, no matter how he tried to sugar coat it to her now. She knew his gestures were ultimately to protect Tad and his loathsome friend from disgrace and shame, and that outraged her.

  With Gilbert out of the way across the nation, both men would be free to enjoy life as they pleased while the death of David O’Sullivan would go unpunished. For the first time since she had known Alfred, she viewed him no better than she viewed her father who also proclaimed himself an ethical man.

  Hastily she wiped her tears and said, “Excuse me for asking, sir. By your own admission, aren’t you also abusing your wealth and position? Please don’t misunderstand. I am extremely grateful for your offer to help Gilbert. More than you can know. But by doing what you are prop
osing, aren’t you using whatever is at your disposal to get what you want?”

  “Before you pass judgment on me Miranda, might I point out that Gilbert O’Flaherty was not a guest in my home at my request. Rather you brought him here without my consent. So in doing that, you too have used whatever was at your disposal to get what you wanted.”

  The truth in his words shook her very foundation and she knelt by his feet. “Oh Mr. Honeycutt, I’m so sorry…I don’t know what’s come over me … I’m so confused …” Her words broke between sobs.

  Leaning forward, he patted her head. As she continued to cry, he whispered softly to the distraught young woman before him. “Get it all out Miranda. Let it go.” Taking comfort from his words, she rested her head on his knee while he tenderly stroked her head.

  “From the day you entered my life, I have thought of you as a member of our family. I’ve watched in admiration how you handled the most adverse situations, while maintaining dignity and self-respect. However, my dear, what has always puzzled me over the years is why someone with such breeding as yours has grown to distrust those of prestige and shy away from your inheritable social standings.”

  Sheepishly, she glanced up at him and whispered, “What you call as my inheritable social standing has come with a price that I’m not willing to pay. My mother, God rest her soul, paid the ultimate price for such prestige and that was her life.”

  Frowning by such a comment, Alfred said, “I was under the impression your mother’s death was from ingesting poisonous mushrooms.”

  “Oh, that may be what stopped her heart from pumping, but what killed her soul was what society accepted from men of power and means. Polite society closing their eyes to despicable acts too shameful to discuss aloud.”

  “Now it is I who am speechless. Clearly, you have been hurt deeply. Perhaps talking about it could help ease the burden you carry in your heart. That is, if you trust me enough to open up to me now.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him in earnest. “Oh Mr. Honeycutt, I do trust you, honestly I do … its just I’m so ashamed …”