Isaac spun about on the instant. The party held little appeal to him any longer. He’d wondered at Alice’s absence, worried he’d offended her. All that time she’d simply found another whose company she preferred to his.
His steps echoed hard and fast around him as he trudged back to his friend’s home. In all the months he’d watched Miss Kilchrest pay particular attention to any number of her suitors and not to him, he hadn’t felt the deep, crushing disappointment he did in that moment.
Chapter Five
Billy Kettle did best when given tasks that were simple. Equally important to his success was a taskmaster who treated him with patience and understanding. Thus, when Alice learned he’d been retained to help serve at the Kilchrests’ annual Christmastime party, she could not help a touch of anxiety. Mrs. Kilchrest didn’t know Billy, didn’t understand his struggles. Rumor had it the woman was a demanding employer.
Alice fretted over the situation throughout the week leading up to the party on Christmas Eve. She thought about it as she saw to her chores, as she lay on her cot in the tiny maid’s room in the farmhouse where she worked. Isaac would have listened to her worries, would have sorted them out with her. But, she reminded herself, they weren’t entirely talking to each other. Not that they’d sworn off each other’s company. She simply couldn’t face hearing him speak odes to Miss Kilchrest. So Alice avoided him. And he hadn’t come by her grandparents’ place, though he knew where they lived.
She’d simply have to find her own solution to the problem. By the time she arrived in Cavan late in the morning on Christmas Eve, she had settled on a course of action. She’d never warrant an invitation, and therefore couldn’t keep a protective eye out for Billy that way. But she’d wager the Kilchrests could use an extra set of hands.
She spoke quickly with her cousin upon arriving in town then slipped over to the Kilchrests’ home to offer her expertise. She knew better than to knock at the front door. A harried-looking housekeeper opened the back door, impatience written in every line of her face.
“I’ve no time for bothers just now,” the woman warned.
“I’m not here to bother ya. I know ye’ve a party to put on tonight, and I came to see if ye’re looking to hire more help for the day.”
One of her eyebrows shot up even as her mouth pulled tighter. “Ya know how to work?”
Alice nodded. “I work at a large farm up the road toward Killeshandra during the week. I can cook, wash dishes, serve and clear tables— anything ye’re in need of.”
The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll pay ya a shilling for the day.”
Alice managed not to roll her eyes. An entire shilling? The housekeeper gave new weight to the term “pinch purse.” Still, Alice was taking the position so she could look after Billy, not to make her fortune.
“I’ll take the work.”
Without ceremony, Alice was ushered through the busy kitchen, up a flight of servants’ stairs, and deposited in the formal drawing room.
“All the chairs and tables being brought in need polishing,” the housekeeper said. “I trust I don’t have to explain how that’s done.”
Alice shook her head. She didn’t need the woman to hold her hand whilst she saw to basic household chores. In a moment’s time she’d been provided with rags and polish and left to her work.
She’d not finished polishing a single chair before Billy came inside lugging a chair in each arm. He grinned when their eyes met.
“Are ya working here, Alice?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“I get to carry heavy things about tonight. Just like a regular footman, I’ll be.”
“Won’t ya be a fancy servant, then?” Alice smiled at his eagerness. Just like a little boy anticipating a game of imagining things.
Billy set down his burden. “Da says I’m to wear m’ fine Sunday clothes so I’ll look respectable.”
“Ye’ll look fine, Billy. Right fine.” She squeezed his arm.
His pout grew by the moment. “Fine clothes aren’t very comfortable.”
“No, they’re not. Necessary, but not comfortable.”
He nodded slowly and with great emphasis.
“You are not being paid to stand about talking.”
Alice nearly jumped at the sudden voice, too refined to be any of the staff. She glanced toward the doorway. Mrs. Kilchrest stood there, looking at them with obvious disapproval.
“Yes’m.” Alice gave a quick curtsey. To Billy’s look of confusion, she added under her breath, “Best get back to work, Billy, and keep yer mind on yer chores.”
Mrs. Kilchrest watched every step Billy took as he made his way from the room. Alice pretended not to notice, but set to her polishing again. Mrs. Kilchrest made a slow circle of the room, brushing a finger over chairs and tables, inspecting them for dust. Alice didn’t voice her protest despite not having had a chance to polish anything in the room yet but the one chair.
No scolding was made. Either Mrs. Kilchrest realized things hadn’t been attended to yet, or she was too distracted by the arrival of her daughter.
“Must we do this every year, Mother? It is such a great deal of bother.” Miss Kilchrest leaned unladylike against the window frame, looking out over the street below with such an expression of dissatisfaction as one might see on a petulant child.
“It is expected of us, Sophia. And you will behave.”
Miss Kilchrest gave a dainty shrug of her shoulder, pulling back on the white lace curtain for the briefest of moments, before letting it fall back into place.
“Do not give me that dismissive face, young lady. This is the most sought-after invitation of the season, and I will not have you ruin it.”
Miss Kilchrest crossed to a gilded mirror, turning her head about as she spoke. “We could serve them cold tea and stale cakes, and the entire county would still come in droves.”
Mrs. Kilchrest tipped her chin upward, eying her daughter with reproof. Alice watched the exchange out of the corner of her eye, making a convincing display of polishing another chair.
“One too many servings of your sharp tongue have driven away all your most promising suitors.” Mrs. Kilchrest speared her daughter with a scolding look. “Where have the wealthy suitors gone? What of those with influence and standing? They’ve seen your temper one too many times and have flown like birds before the winter. And what have you left now? Farmers and tradesmen.”
Alice bristled at the distasteful tone with which Mrs. Kilchrest spoke of those “farmers.” Isaac was among their number, after all. He didn’t deserve to be spoken of so dismissively.
Miss Kilchrest smiled vaguely at her mother as she flitted toward the door. “They’ll be back, Mother. They always come back.”
Mrs. Kilchrest watched her daughter leave. ’Twas not an adoring look she wore.
And this is the family Isaac hopes to be part of? Alice shook her head. He could do vastly better for himself.
“Those chairs will not polish themselves.” Mrs. Kilchrest’s words snapped like a flag in a gale.
Alice rubbed harder at the legs of the chair and muttered a quick, “Yes’m.”
She spent the afternoon bringing a collection of mismatched chairs to polished perfection, her thoughts full of Isaac, drat the man. His empty-headed, single-minded pursuit of Sophia Kilchrest frustrated her to no end. That he’d not been by to see her fully broke her heart. She ought to be mad at him, ought to be leaving him to his stubbornness. But she could not, could not, leave him to certain misery in such an unhappy household.
How, then, could she help him see what a mistake he was making?
Isaac slipped a finger under his collar, stretching his neck to fit better in his very best shirt. Perhaps it wasn’t the sermons that made sitting in church so deucedly uncomfortable. The staid and formal party he stepped into at the Kilchrests’ was worlds different from the cheerful, laughing gathering he’d spied on the weekend before.
Of course, at this gathering he’d
not have to watch Alice smiling at another man. That sight had haunted him all week. Enough, in fact, that he’d gone by her grandparents’ house that afternoon, fully intending to ask her... something. He didn’t even fully know what he would have said to her. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Alice wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be back all day.
If he hadn’t been expected at the Kilchrests’ Christmas celebration, he’d have simply sat himself down at the gate of Alice’s family’s home and waited. Questions about her and Billy had plagued him all week. He’d struggled to concentrate on his chores. He’d nearly forgotten to put his finest suit and shirt in his bundle, despite bringing it along every weekend for church. He’d walked the entire road from Killeshandra without noticing whether winter had stripped the trees bare, nor the color of the water. He’d thought only of Alice.
“Isaac.” Miss Kilchrest greeted him when he reached her side. In that moment, the smile she always wore rubbed him wrong. ’Twas nothing like the brilliant smile Alice had given her dear friend. Miss Kilchrest’s smiles had never been like Alice’s.
“Good evening.” His eagerness to be going rushed the words from him. “Thank ya for the invitation.” Now let me slip out.
“Of course.”
Her tone never changed, now that he thought on it. She always sounded as if she only half-listened to what he said, and as if his compliments were her due. Either he’d never noticed that about her before, or he was simply in a sour mood and attributing motives to her that she didn’t deserve. Either way, ’twould be best for everyone if he simply went about his business for the night.
“Isaac, have you met Mr. Byrne?” Miss Kilchrest indicated a man obviously very near Isaac’s age. The similarities ended there, though. Mr. Byrne’s clothes were not made of homespun, nor did his shoes show signs of heavy use.
There were not many, in fact, in attendance who looked quite as humble as Isaac did. And not one of those from his walk of life, he further noted, was introduced as Mister Anything. ’Twas first names for the farmers and the tradesmen and the less affluent. Did they feel as out of place as he did?
He searched his mind for a quick and tidy means of excusing himself for the evening. As he’d been particularly invited, he wasn’t certain such a thing could be accomplished without giving offense.
“What business are you in, Isaac?” Mr. Byrne asked, sounding at least a little genuine in his curiosity.
“I’ve a farm up near Killeshandra.” Isaac pulled himself up. He was proud of all he’d accomplished. “I’ve two-hundred acres of decent soil, good crops, a few animals to my name.”
Mr. Byrne nodded, seemingly impressed. Isaac would not have guessed that. “And how many tenants do you have on that two-hundred acres?” He looked over at Miss Kilchrest. “A man can make a very good living if he divides his land up amongst enough families.” He held his lapels, chest thrust out. “Rents can make a man wealthy.”
“I’ve no tenants,” Isaac said firmly, eying the man’s signs of wealth with growing dislike. “I’ll not be the reason dozens of poor souls are forced onto plots of land too small to support them. I’ll be responsible for their deaths if we’ve another potato blight.”
Mr. Byrne looked him up and down dismissively. “Is that old tired tune still being played?”
Isaac set his shoulders. “Not by the dead, it’s not. But those of us lucky enough to have lived don’t intend to forget it soon. Nor will we forget those who grew wealthy on the backs of the dying.”
To her credit, Miss Kilchrest looked a little uncomfortable, though whether she found Mr. Byrne’s insensitivity or Isaac’s proud determination more upsetting, he didn’t know.
“Now, if ye’ll—”
His words stopped on the instant. Across the room, Alice stood at the sideboard, setting out plates of teacakes, wearing the frill-edged aprons all the other maids wore.
She doesn’t work here.
Then again, he felt certain there were a great many more servants there that night than on his previous visit. The Kilchrests had taken on temporary help.
Had Alice taken the position out of necessity? What could have happened to put her in such financial hardship?
Without a parting word to his hostess or her infuriating friend, Isaac took a step in Alice’s direction. He got no further than that. A footman, tall and broad, stepped directly in front of him, holding a salver of champagne glasses. Isaac had never been one for anything but a strong mug of ale from the local pub, or perhaps a pint of home brew. Yet he found his eyes drifting back to the bubbling drink. The glasses were shaking enough to be worrisome.
He looked up at the footman and recognized him right off. ’Twas Alice’s Billy. Was he trying to keep Isaac away from her? He’d have a fight on his hands if that was the case.
Isaac stood as tall as he could stretch, still not coming close to the man’s height, and set his shoulders. But a closer look stopped any challenging words he might have tossed at Billy.
The man stood, watching his tray of glasses, biting at his lip, brow deeply creased. His gaze flicked briefly at Isaac. “I can’t make ’em stop shaking ’round,” he whispered.
Something was odd in the way he spoke, even the way he stood and held himself. Isaac couldn’t put his finger on just what was unusual, but the combination deflated his temper on the instant.
The glasses trembled all the more. Billy looked more than nervous as he eyed his tray of drinks; he seemed actually fearful.
“Do ya need to set those down?” Isaac asked quietly but urgently.
Even Billy’s head shake was a touch clumsy, almost like a child who still hadn’t mastered the moving of his own body. “The housekeeper said I was to carry it ’til all the drinks was gone. They’re not gone.”
They’ll be gone quick enough if ya drop them. Isaac looked to Miss Kilchrest. Surely she’d see the difficulty and give Billy permission to set down his load. She watched Billy and his tray with misgivings but made no move to intervene.
Alice seemed to have noticed the difficulty. She abandoned her teacakes and crossed toward them.
Isaac whispered quickly to Billy. “Set the glasses down. Better that then letting them slip.”
Billy’s hands only grew shakier. His face turned equal parts pale and red. “She’s wearing her mean eyes.”
Isaac, himself, took a step back at the hardness in Miss Kilchrest’s expression.
“You bumbling fool,” she hissed at Billy. “Anything you break will come out of your wages.”
’Twas the first time Isaac had ever heard Miss Kilchrest speak sharply to anyone. Though he’d had more than a few uncharitable thoughts where Billy Kettle was concerned, he found he didn’t at all like Miss Kilchrest’s reprimand.
Billy’s face crumbled. “I don’t have money. I can’t pay for it.”
“Ya won’t have to.” Alice had arrived in time to carefully take the tray from Billy’s hands. She set it on an obliging table without the tray shaking in the slightest.
Miss Kilchrest set her hands on her hips and waited not a single moment after Alice turned back before correcting her. “He’ll not be paid for work someone else is doing for him.”
Alice didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. “He was not hired to serve yer guests drinks. Yer housekeeper was told in detail of his limitations. If ya have objections to how he performed this duty that was not his own, ye’d best take it up with that bothersome woman.”
Miss Kilchrest’s face pulled tight.
“How dare you speak to me that way?” She spoke through clenched jaw. “I do not pay servants to be insolent.”
Alice managed to look down her nose at Miss Kilchrest, despite being shorter. “And the pitiful sum I’m being paid to be here tonight is not worth yer shrew’s tongue. Good night to ya, Miss Kilchrest. Happy Christmas and all that.”
Isaac knew a moment of pride hearing her speak with such strength of purpose. Alice was no wilting flower to shrivel at the slightest difficulty. A country lass,
she was.
“Come, then, Billy. We’ll take up the matter of yer wages with the magistrate if we must.”
Billy’s tall frame bent under what looked like embarrassment and disappointment. Alice took off her frilly apron and pressed it into Miss Kilchrest’s hands before walking away with Billy, her hand resting on his back.
Isaac glanced back at Miss Kilchrest. Her gaze settled uncomfortably on Mr. Byrne. “I told Mother not to hire that man. He’s simple, you know. That kind always bumbles everything.”
Isaac made a quick bow, excusing himself without a great deal of grace. He couldn’t abide Miss Kilchrest’s company a moment longer.
He’s simple. That kind always bumbles everything. That kind. The words repeated in his thoughts as he walked away from the Kilchrests’ party. Many of his neighbors were simple people, though not in the same way. They were the very best Ireland had to offer, the salt of the earth. Would Miss Kilchrest hiss at and insult them for their simplicity? Would she turn his home into a place where none of his neighbors or family would feel welcome?
Miss Kilchrest had added to Billy’s pain. Alice had come immediately to his rescue.
Miss Kilchrest hadn’t cared in the least about the flowers he’d given her a few weeks back. Alice had smiled sweetly at the simple wild bloom he’d picked for her at the lake.
He’d spent four months trying to be the person Miss Kilchrest would notice and care for. In those same four months, he’d never needed to be anything but himself with Alice.
His walk through Cavan Town drove home two indisputable truths.
Pursuing Miss Kilchrest had been a mistake from the beginning.
And he’d been in love with Alice Wheatley for months, but had been too much of a fool to realize it.
Chapter Six
Alice hoped Miss Kilchrest’s behavior had been enough to warn off Isaac. She’d been too upset, herself, to stay and talk sense into the man. That he’d come immediately to Billy’s defense despite not understanding his circumstances only further endeared Isaac to her. He was a good man, no matter how misguided his matrimonial ambitions.
Sarah M. Eden British Isles Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology Book 15) Page 13
