“I have to go, Robbie. And so do you. You’ll need to light the beacon.”
“Pa can manage all that without me. Just let me have you one more time.”
“All right. But be quick about it.” Deirdre sank back down into the grass and gathered her skirts in an uncomfortable wad beneath her. By the time Robbie was finished, her bottom was rubbed raw by the rough ground and the rest of her was well past the point of frustration.
When she left Robbie at the foot of the hillside, it was near dark, and thunder rolled in the distance. More rain. Deirdre hastened toward town. When she got to the covered bridge, she paused before crossing, remembering the strange glint in Ambrose Gentry’s eyes. What if he was hiding beneath the bridge, waiting for her in the shadows?
Deirdre shuddered. She’d been dreaming of him every night—rank, lustful dreams shot through with the kind of fear that left her soaked with sweat and trembling as he whispered in the darkness.
Only I can give you what you want.
The skin prickled on Deirdre’s arms, but she drew up her courage and rushed across the bridge, the echo of her footsteps thudding in time with her heart.
As she neared the Bledsoe place, she caught sight of Rosy, hitched to the wagon, eagerly munching on Hannah’s irises. What was Pa doing here? Deirdre patted her mussed hair and shook the brambles from her skirts. Mary met her at the door, her pale-lashed eyes furtive beneath her ruffled cap. “Your pa’s in the parlor. I’m sorry, Miss Deirdre. I made to lie, but . . .”
Panic twisted in Deirdre’s belly. “You didn’t tell him where I went, did you?”
“No, miss. But he’s fit to be tied, all the same.”
Deirdre followed the little maid into the half-round room with its yellow wallpaper, her heart thumping. Pa paced in front of the fireplace. When he looked up, relief instead of anger shot across his face. “Where have you been, poppet?”
“I . . . I was out gathering herbs for Mrs. Bledsoe’s tea.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Not really, though the tea was for herself. She’d learned more than a thing or two from the grimoire by lamplight, after she’d put Collin to bed. The book had shown her ways to prevent a child that were more reliable than the stinging vinegar Ingrid used.
Pa’s frown deepened. Dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping. “That preacher came here while you were gone. Mrs. Bledsoe let him in.”
Deirdre felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, Pa. I . . .”
“I’ve seen him on our place, watching and waiting for you in the woods. Chased him off twice. But now that he knows you’re here—well.”
“What if Robbie and me got married right away? If I had a husband, he’d leave me be, wouldn’t he?” The thought of Robbie’s strong arms around her in the darkness, driving away her dreams of Gentry, was a comfort.
“Robbie hasn’t come to me yet, poppet, and I can’t take the chance that Gentry will leave of his own accord, just because you’ve married. It’s not your heart he’s after. He’ll turn the townsfolk against you, and there’ll be no stopping him once that’s happened. I can’t take that chance.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I have to protect you. If I send you away—far from Tin Mountain—he’ll likely move on at the end of summer, and you and your Robbie can have your wedding at the harvest. All will be well by then.”
Deirdre sank down in the nearest chair. “You want to send me away? Where?”
Mary bustled back through the parlor door, a silver-laden tea tray in hand. “Mistress will be down shortly.”
“Oh. I wouldn’t trouble her more than she’s already been troubled,” Pa said, scratching his head.
“She’d like a word with you, and with Deirdre, sir. About that man.” Mary set the tea service on the console next to Deirdre and bobbed an unsure curtsy.
Deirdre poured tea, her hands shaking, then added two cubes of sugar. She’d been fierce hungry after her hurried flight down the hill, but now her stomach turned at the thought of food.
As the clock chimed eight, Hannah Bledsoe swept into the room, dressed for dinner in a gaudy purple frock trimmed with lace, little Collin tucked beneath her chin. “Evenin’ Mr. Werner. Deirdre.”
Pa rose, dipping his chin. “Sorry to trouble you, ma’am.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I hardly have visitors when Billy’s away.” Hannah sank drunkenly into the chair opposite Deirdre. Her eyes were feverish, her pupils a mere pinprick. She’d been dosing with the laudanum again. “That gentleman, the one who came to call this afternoon, was surely well spoken and polite, but he was insistent upon seeing Deirdre. I could hardly convince him to leave. It was unsettling.”
“He’s . . . a suitor,” Deirdre murmured. “One I’ve spurned. He’s taking it none too well.”
Baby Collin woke and stirred at Hannah’s bosom, his mewling cry sharp as a fox kit. She jostled him, too frantic. His crying intensified, carrying up the walls. Hannah had no natural inclination with soothing a baby, at all.
“May I?” Deirdre asked. Hannah eagerly offered the baby to her, and Deirdre perched Collin against her shoulder, shushing him as she walked to the front hall and stood in front of the window to stare out at the gloom. He nuzzled against her neck, falling back to his slumber as gently as a feather on a pond. Rain streaked the leaded windowpanes and pinged hard against the glass. The near-constant storms already had the crops stinking with rot.
“Your daughter certainly has a way with my Collin,” Hannah said from the other room. “Having her with me has been such a help, Mr. Werner. I’ve a mind to keep her on as Collin’s nanny. That’s what I wished to speak with you about.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am. And my Deirdre is good help, for certain.” Pa cleared his throat. “It’s just that her suitor—the man who came here—he’s right dangerous. I thought by letting her come here we might discourage his advances, and he’d move on. But seeing as he knows she’s here, he won’t leave her, or you, alone. He’ll keep coming around.”
“I see.”
“I mean to send her away for the summer.”
The other room went silent, the pitter-patter of rain the only sound. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”
“That’s the trouble. We haven’t any family outside Tin Mountain. My wife wants to send her to a convent. It may be the most practical thing.”
Deirdre rankled. A convent! The last thing she wanted was to be hidden away in a convent filled with somber nuns and silence.
“Perhaps, if the convent is a temporary arrangement. I can’t see Deirdre taking the veil. She’s not even a baptized Catholic, is she?” The opium had made Hannah’s silken voice as high and shrill as a tin whistle. “Surely Deirdre should get a say in where she goes, Mr. Werner. Don’t you think?”
Deirdre turned and went back to the parlor, no longer content to eavesdrop while her future was decided for her. She sank back into her chair, rocking Collin gently, and fixed Pa with a frown.
“Just look at that.” Hannah smiled. “She’s a natural mother. You want a family of your own someday, isn’t that right, Deirdre?”