Kilpara (6 page)

“
We had barely enough food to go
round, and your grandparents gave us everything they could afford,
but it wasn’t enough. So they wrote to the Mister and Missus about
the state of affairs. Sure, himself and herself were struggling
too, but they offered Eileen and me a home,
nonetheless.”

Seamus stopped talking. The carriage ground to
a halt and he jumped down.

“
What’s wrong?” I asked.

“
Road’s rough. Got to walk the
horses over it.”

He pulled on the harness, guiding horses and
carriage carefully over ruts and around potholes. He talked on,
looking at the road, then at me.

“
We didn’t want to leave Ireland,
Eileen and meself. But there was nothing at home for us, so we got
married, said goodbye to our kin, and came to America. Only we
didn’t live at Stonebridge in those days. Himself and herself lived
in that small log cabin of theirs.” He paused, retreating to this
pivotal moment in his life like a homing pigeon returning to its
point of flight.

“
You were only a wee one then, so
ye don't remember us coming.” Seamus glanced at me hopefully.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind his words retrieved memories
of a party, lots of laughing, crying, music, and dancing. For the
most part Eileen had always been a part of my life, but Seamus
remained somewhere on the periphery, like an invisible
fixture.

“
I remember,” I said, my words
surprising Seamus.

“
Aye,” he said, happy to have
evoked a response. “‘Twas a grand time for us all. A small piece of
home, right here in the wilderness. There was lots of hard work to
be done in those days. It was a tight squeeze in that tiny cabin,
with himself, herself, the childer, Eileen and meself.”

We passed over the rough section of road, and
Seamus returned to his position behind the reins. He cracked the
whip and yelled “gee-up.” The horses picked up speed and so did
Seamus.

“
Things changed after Missus
Frichard went to her heavenly demise,” he said. “She had the gout,
ye see, and no childer of her own to nurse her—the woman was
barren. Her mister had already passed on, and your mother took it
upon herself to look after the old lady. Mrs. Frichard was very
grateful.”

“
She willed the land to Mother,” I
said, thinking back to my childhood and the times when Mother left
to tend to Mrs. Frichard.

“
Aye. None of the old lady's family
ever visited, and she didn’t like them much anyway. No one was
surprised then, except the Missus, when the woman left her
everything. The Frichard family was none too pleased about it, but
they were too far away to kick up a fuss, and already rich in their
own right.”

He shook the reins. “The Mister and Missus
decided to build Stonebridge House. ‘Twas easy to believe I was
back in Ireland after that. Looks exactly like Kilpara, ye know.
“

I looked across at him. His eyes filled with
sadness and in a trembling voice he said, “‘Twill be a sorry day
when the Missus leaves us. ‘Tis a good woman she is. Taken care of
Eileen, meself, and the childer all these years.”

I groaned. Seamus turned his sad expression on
me. “Are ye all right, Master Ellis?”

“
Yes,” I answered
glumly.

Seamus cracked the whip and the horses lurched
forward.

Hagerstown was filled with people going about
their business. The town was a mixture of old and new. Buildings
scarred in one form or another by the war had been repaired and
received fresh coats of paint. New businesses had moved in and
evidence of recent hostilities was being pushed aside as
shopkeepers decorated storefronts with bright awnings and smart
colors. It was an attempt to bury the terror, the morbidity, the
anguish, along with the past.

I bade Seamus farewell in the public square
and went to the Commonwealth Club where I ate a light dinner, after
which I walked to the railroad station. Activity here resembled
that of any busy metropolis as I boarded the evening train for
Baltimore. I settled into the comfort of an executive compartment,
the velvety-down seat feeling even softer after hours spent on the
dickie. I reveled in my own company, glad of this short reprieve
from Stonebridge House and its problems. The next few days would
demand all my attention if I was to prepare for what lay
ahead.

The locomotive inched forward out of the
station. Puffs of smoke began to stream past the window as it
gathered speed. I opened the Tribune to catch up on current events
and was so absorbed in the news that I didn’t notice the
compartment door open. It wasn’t until I heard my name that I
glanced up from the open page. I stared in disbelief at the figure
squeezing through the door.

“
Er, hello Mas’, er, Ellis,”
Maureen said in a timid voice. I don’t know what shocked me more,
her appearance in my compartment or her familiarity. I was agitated
by both.

“
It’s me,” she said, unnecessarily,
and moved to the seat opposite me, clutching a small travelling bag
to her abdomen. “Please, please, don’t send me back. My mind’s made
up. I’m going to the city and nothing’ll stop me.”

“
You can’t. How can you?” I
stammered. “How did you get here?”

“
I rode one of the horses, watched
Father drop you off at the square then followed him when he went to
the mausoleum on the edge of town. He was in there a long time. I
might’ve missed the train if he hadn’t come out when he did. After
that, he drove over to the telegraph office. When he went inside, I
tied my horse to the carriage and ran to the train station. I left
him a note—” Her gushing stopped abruptly. She gulped back air, her
anxious gaze never leaving my face.

“
He’ll be furious when he finds out
you’re gone,” I said cautiously. “You must return. On the next
train back.”

“
No!” Maureen was adamant. “I’m not
going back. If you refuse to help me, I’ll do it on my
own.”

“
You can’t, the city’s no place for
a young lady. Besides, how would I explain to your parents that I
allowed you to roam the streets unattended?”

“
Then help me—please. I promise not
to be a burden. You’re acquainted with important people. You can
find me employment. That’s all I ask. You can forget about me after
that.”

“
What about your
parents?”

“
They don’t care. They won’t
listen. They want me to stay in that dark, dreary house in the
middle of nowhere for the rest of my life. There are no parties
anymore, not since...” She bit her lip as if to hold back the
words. But I knew she wanted to say that life had all but stopped
at Stonebridge House after Francis and Father died. I didn’t
entirely blame the girl for wanting to get away. With death
clinging to the house like a dark web, its atmosphere would wear on
anyone as young and eager as Maureen.

Tears of frustration floated about her
eyelids. “Mams and Pa will force me to marry some wrinkled old
farmer if I stay there, someone I’ll have to care for in his old
age. Or worse, they’ll make me marry a cripple from the war.” She
wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

“
Don’t cry,” I said, handing her a
kerchief. “It’s not as bad as you say. There’s lots of young beau
just waiting to ask for your hand. They’ll come around when the
time is right.”

“
You don’t know that. You haven’t
been to Stonebridge in ages. You don’t know how horrible and
depressing it is. If I have to stay there another minute, I’ll go
stark raving mad.” She threw her hands in the air and began crying
in earnest. Her loud bawling made it difficult for me to be firm. I
hated when women cried; they were unreasonable when they were
emotional.

“
All right, all right,” I said.
“You’ll have your chance, but only if you do as I say.”

Maureen dabbed at her eyes and looked
expectant.

I thought quickly. “You may stay with me for
the short period I’m in Baltimore. To allay people’s suspicions and
assumptions, I’ll say you’re my Irish cousin. If anyone asks, I
brought you along to help with preparations for my journey to
Ireland. Then when we get back to Stonebridge, I’ll help you sort
this whole mess out with your parents. Will that do?”

“
Yes.” She sniffed, and twisted the
kerchief between her fingers. “You’ll find me work, then you’ll
tell them why I won’t stay at Stonebridge. You understand, don’t
you? I don’t want to hurt Mams and Pa, or anyone...”

“
I’ll do what I can,” I said.
“That’s settled then?”

Maureen nodded and appeared satisfied for the
moment; she would have her adventure. The locomotive rocked along
the tracks toward its destination, and the strain of her decision
along with the long ride took its toll. Slowly her head sank to the
cushioned seat and she fell asleep curled up with her bag. I
studied her while she slept. She had the face of a common country
girl, cloaked in innocence and showing all the signs of becoming a
voluptuous young woman, a caterpillar about to become a butterfly.
She had an earthy kind of beauty that would easily attract some
young man. I had to agree that such vivacity clamped in the vise of
an old man, as she obviously feared, would be a shame. But her
notion of finding happiness in the city— I had my
doubts.

We approached Baltimore; I studied her
costume. No one would believe she was my cousin in her peasant mode
of dress. I would have to enlist Astelle’s help to take care of
that first thing in the morning.

The train pulled into Camden Station and I
woke a groggy Maureen. Shanley stood ready with the carriage
outside the station and opened the door when he saw us. Maureen
looked at him and the carriage in surprise as I helped her
inside.

“
Hello Sir, Miss,” Shanley said,
polite as always. He stood stiffly until we were comfortably seated
before closing the door. Tall and thin with a receding hairline and
small, thick-rimmed oval glasses, he was valued by Mr. Emmons for
his diplomacy and his discreet lack of interest in his employer’s
personal affairs. He never commented on his own life, which was as
much of a mystery as he was. But he was reliable and always
available when either Emmons or I needed him. He was the only one,
besides me, who knew that Emmons had moved his agency from
Washington to Baltimore under the guise that it was closer to where
the cavalry corralled their horses. In truth, Emmons had taken a
mistress and had located her in Baltimore where they met in secret.
Their affair had been ongoing for years unbeknownst to his wife,
whose life revolved around their daughter, bridge, piano recitals
and sewing clubs. In all that time, I never saw any hint in
Shanley’s expression or manner that he knew or cared about Emmons’
indiscretions.

Shanley stopped the carriage in front of my
apartments on Liberty Row, climbed down and held the door open. He
offered Maureen his hand as she raised her skirts to descend. She
smiled and thanked him with more sincerity than was
necessary.

Maureen feasted her eyes on the neat brick row
houses packed tightly together while I questioned Shanley about
Emmons’ whereabouts. Upon learning he had arrived back from
Louisiana and was conducting business meetings with prospective
investors in Washington, I wrote a hasty note requesting to meet
him next evening and explained that the matter was urgent. As a
postscript I added that Maureen, my young Irish cousin, was a guest
for a few days. Shanley promised to return with a response the
following afternoon.

We walked up the two flights of concrete steps
to the heavy columned doorway that led to my apartments. Maureen
reverently stepped inside like a worshipper entering a temple. I
motioned her to look around while I set down our bags and went into
the library that adjoined the drawing room. I opened the
well-stocked liquor cabinet and poured myself a brandy. Maureen
returned in a few moments. “Suits you, Mas’—er Ellis,” she said
cheerfully.

Her face belied her enthusiasm. She looked
doubtfully at the heavy leather furniture bereft of fluffy pillows
and frills, the wallpaper with its straight lines and solid bold
colors instead of flowers and pastels. Standing in the middle of
all this she whispered, “Where do I sleep?”

Color rose to her face and I observed her
uneasiness with amusement.

“
You can have one of the guest
rooms upstairs. Take the first room on the left.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Shouldn’t I sleep in the
servants’ quarters?”

I laughed. “I don’t have much use for
servants. I live alone. A domestic comes in a few times a week to
clean up and cooks for me if I schedule my meals at home. Besides,
if you’re to be my cousin, you should be here in the main
house.”

“
Will I see you tomorrow?” she
asked shyly.

“
I have much to do. A friend will
come by to look after you in my stead. I’ll see you later in the
day.”

She acknowledged this and gratefully
retired.

I was about to leave the apartments the next
morning when a knock sounded at the front door. I opened it to a
youth who handed me a telegram. “Please wait,” I ordered. Quickly,
I looked over the printed words. It was from Seamus. He had
discovered Maureen’s disappearance along with her note and was
anxious about her safety. He prayed she was with me and asked if I
was returning her on the next scheduled train. He would stay in
Hagerstown until he heard.