In Like Flynn (15 page)

The gatekeeper swung open the gate for me. “Go careful then, miss,” he said. “Watch out for traffic on the road. Too many automobiles these days.”

I smiled as I set off in the direction of the nearest village, away from West Point and the Van Gelders. The road was empty, with no sign of traffic of any kind, apart from a dog who trotted along, minding his own business. I had no idea how far it was but I assumed I would come to a hamlet of some sort before too long. At first it was a steep uphill climb as the road skirted the mountain above the Flynns' property I had to dismount and push until I came to the crest. I was sweaty, red-faced and out of breath when I came to the top and I stood for a while, wishing I had brought water with me. Then I mounted again and started the long descent. It was delightful, feeling the cool breeze in my face and watching the trees flashing by me. I was about halfway down when I realized some-thing rather vital—I didn't know how to stop. On the flat it was merely a question of not pedaling. Now I was not pedaling and going ever faster.

My straw hat flew off. Pins came out of my hair. By now I was definitely frightened and not at all sure how this could end safely, unless I met an uphill slope soon. Buildings appeared before me— the hamlet I had been seeking. If I shouted for help, maybe someone would rush to my aid, but I have always hated to look foolish. I'd choose disaster over embarrassment any day I hurtled past the first homes. I was halfway down what passed for a main street when the disaster occurred. A young woman came out of the general store and started to cross the street. I shouted, but too late. She looked up to see me bearing down on her. I swerved to my right to avoid her. She dodged to her left to avoid me. The bicycle skidded and I struck her as I went flying.

Eighteen

T
he breath was knocked out of me as I hit the dirt road. For a moment I lay there, tangled up in my bicycle, too shocked to move. Then I remembered the young woman I had struck and tried to extricate myself from the machine. By this time the noise of our collision had reached the nearest houses. Large hands lifted the bicycle from me and helped me to sit up.

“Are you all right, miss? Easy now. Careful. Don't try to take it too fast.”

Beside me the young woman had already scrambled to her feet and was brushing herself off. “Are you all right?”she asked me.

“More to the point, are you?” I stood up, somewhat shakily. “I am most terribly sorry. It was my first time on a bicycle and I couldn't stop the wretched thing.”

“I always knew those contraptions were a bad idea,” the local man who had helped me up grunted. “God expected humans to walk on their own two feet, not go racing through the countryside, mowing down innocent folk.”

I examined my victim for signs of damage. She appeared to have come through the ordeal with no cuts or scrapes that I could see. But there was an ugly streak across the pale silk of her dress. “Oh no. I have ruined your lovely dress. There is oil on your skirt. How will we be able to clean it?”

“Please don't upset yourself.” The young woman gave me an encouraging smile. “We have both survived with no broken limbs. Let us count ourselves lucky.”

“Bring the young ladies inside, Homer,” a woman instructed. “They'd probably like a nice cool glass of lemonade and a chance to rest.”

We were led into the nearest building while the bicycle was wheeled behind us. I was grateful to sit in the cool darkness and it took me a moment to realize we were in a saloon. The young woman had obviously realized the same thing, because she looked at me and smiled. She had a delightful smile with dimples in her cheeks.

“I never thought when I set out for a walk today that I would wind up in a saloon,” she whispered.

“It may be the only time in our lives that we are actually invited inside,” I whispered back.

“With pure intentions anyway.”

We shared a laugh. I examined the delicate fabric of her skirt. It was a fine silk, pale blue.

“Maybe they can find us some soap and warm water so that we can try to remove the worst of the damage to your skirt.”

She put her hand onto mine. “Don't worry about it, please. I'll ask my landlady to tackle it, and if she can't, then I'll have my dressmaker put in a new panel.”

“But I should at least pay you to right the damage.”

“Fiddlesticks.” She smiled again. “It was quite an adventure, wasn't it? I've never been run down by a bicycle before.”

“And I have never hurtled down a hill on one.” I held out my hand to her. “My name is Molly M—, Molly Gaffney.”

“Margie McAlister,” she said. “Goodness, you're bleeding,” she added as she examined my arm. “We must ask our hostess for some water to clean your cuts.”

My forearms and palms were starting to sting. Lemonade was brought, then our hostess returned with the hot water and gauze. Miss McAlister waved the woman aside and set about cleaning my grazes with precision.

You'll live,” she said. “Bathe them again in an antiseptic solution tonight and cover them with loose gauze pads.”

“You seem very professional at the task,” I commented.

“I have done some nursing in my time.”

“Do you live around here, or are you a visitor?” I asked.

“A visitor. I live in Georgetown, just outside our nation’s capital, where it is unpleasantly hot at the moment. I thought that the quiet atmosphere by the rivermight be beneficial to my health,” she said. “And you?”

“I'm also a visitor, staying with relatives.”

You're from Ireland?”

“How could you tell, the accent or the red hair and freckles?” I asked with a laugh.

She gave me a wistful smile. “I understand it’s a very beautiful country. Are you just over for the summer or do you live in America permanently now?”

“I'm just on a visit,” I said, deciding I should stick to being Molly Gaffney, just in case. “I haven't decided how long I'll stay. My cousin Theresa doesn't want to part with me.”

“Theresa?” I saw aflickerof reaction in those large dark eyes be-fore she went back to the gauze she was wringing out.

“Senator and Mrs. Flynn. They have a house near here.”

“Adare. I was aware of it,” she said, folding the gauze neatly on the side of the bowl.

“This is not your first visit to the area then?”

“No, some years ago I used to live nearby.” She looked up as the landlord approached and sat on a bench beside us.

“How are we doing, young ladies? None the worse for your little spill?”

“We seem to have been very lucky,” I said. “Nothing worse than a couple of scrapes and bumps.”

“I don't suppose you'll feel like riding that contraption home again,” he said. “Are you staying far from here?”

“I'm staying with Senator Flynn at Adare,” I confessed.

Miss McAlister had changed her mind about her dress and had started dabbing at the worst of the marks with the damp cloth.

“Oh, well then, why don't I use the telephone at the police station and ask for their chauffeur to come and get you, miss?”

“Please don't,” I said quickly. “I am sure I am quite able to make my own way home. I should feel such a fool if I had to be rescued.”

“If you're completely sure, miss. I can have my man wheel the contraption for you if you'd like.”

“You're most kind,” I said, “but I came into the village to post a letter and I must do that before I forget.”

“There’s a post office in the general store across the street,” he said. “Is it all the fashion at Adare to take bicycle excursions? You're the second young lady in two days.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Another slip of a girl came down the hill at full tilt on her bicycle yesterday, only she didn't fall off. She went into the police station. I think she wanted to use the telephone.”

So Belinda had lied about heading toward West Point. I wondered who she had wanted to call. Probably a suitor she didn't want her sister to know about.

Miss McAlister hadrisento her feet. “I should be going,” she said. “You have been most kind.”

“Not at all, miss. Why don't you rest a while and have another glass of lemonade? I'm sure you must be quite shaken up. I'll have the missus bring out the jug. No, no. There’s no need to rush. You take your time to recover. There won't be any men coming in here for a while yet. You're quite safe.”

He shouted for his wife and our glasses were replenished. I was feeling fully recovered, but determined to make good use of the situation.

The gardener at Adare has been telling me that he used to share a pint with Albert Morell, the chauffeur, from time to time. Would that have been in here or is there another tavern nearby?”

“It was here, allright.”The landlord grimaced. “When I think how I called that scoundrel my friend. In here all the time, he was. Drank more than was good for him sometimes, but there wasn't any harm in him—or so I thought. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard what he'd done. My boy thought he was the cat’s whiskers. Took him fishing on his days off, you know.” He leaned closer to us. “Not that he wasn't what you might call slick. Manys the time I've seen him invite some poor sucker to a game of cards, and walk away with the poor man’s cash in his pocket.”

“Did you ever see him meeting shady characters in here?” I asked.

“Shady characters?” The man threw back his head and laughed. “You've been reading too many novels, miss. Like I told the police, Bertie Morell was an ordinary, likable fellow with no malice in him. From what he told me, I understand he had a way with the ladies. We used to tease him about it. Like master, like servant, that’s what we always said.”

Miss McAlister put down her glass and got to her feet. “I really must go. I thank you again for your kindness. Please excuse me.”

“Miss McAlister, are you sure there’s nothing more I can do for you?” I called after her.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she called back as she pushed open the saloon door and hurried away.

It was a long, dreary slog back to Adare, wheeling the bicycle be-side me. The climb up to the crest was too hard to undertake on a bicycle, especially with sore and grazed limbs, and once at the summit, I was not about to risk the downhill ride and a repeat performance of my last disaster. I should have to get some lessons in stopping before I took a bicycle out again. Fortunately the bicycle had suffered no apparent damage. That would have been most embarrassing!

The long way home gave me plenty of time to think. Disconnected thoughts and ideas ran through my mind—Bertie Morell, who was universally liked and took the landlord’s son fishing, and Belinda, who had lied about bicycling toward West Point when she had instead used a telephone in the village, and the interesting Miss McAlister, who had once been a nurse and now wore an ex-pensive silk gown and who had come to the mosquito-plagued river instead of the ocean for her health.

By the time I had delivered the bicycle to the carriage house, I had to rush to wash and change for dinner. Theresa once more did not make an appearance but her maid, a severe-looking French-woman called Adele, informed me that Mrs. Flynn would be most happy if I paid her a visit as soon as dinner was over.

I obliged and found her lying amid a mountain of pillows, her face as white as the cotton and lace around her.

“Molly, dearest.” She held out a languid hand to me. “I am so glad you came. I have been so lonely up here.”

“I would have come before if you had summoned me,” I said.

She patted the coverings beside her, indicating where I should sit.

“My husband has no patience with my sufferings,” she said. “In fact, he would have given up on me long ago if I didn't expect to inherit such a vast fortune when my parents die.” She clutched at my hand. “To tell you the truth, dear Molly, I truly believe he only married me for my money in the first place.”

“I'm sure that’s not true,” I said. “You are a beautiful and witty woman, Theresa. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his wife.”

“You are such a sweet child. How could you know what it is like between a man and a woman? We were never suited, Bamey and I. He has such strong—needs—and I have never been able to fulfill them. That has been our problem all along. And since Brendan died, I can't bear him to come near me. Naturally he is hurt and angry, but I can't help it. I live under this perpetual black cloud, Molly.”

I followed her gaze to a dressing table where a large silver-framed photograph stood. It was of a beautiful child with long fair curls and huge bright eyes, sitting sedately in frills and petticoats on a straight-backed chair, holding a stuffed bear in one hand. In spite of the frills one could see he was all boy from the mischievous grin on his lips. It was the first time I had looked at Brendan, apart from the grainy pictures printed in the newspapers. And the first thought that crossed my mind was that looking at that sweet, impish smile every day would break any parent’s heart.

“You have had to endure more than most women could bear,” I said. “But you still have a lot to live for, Theresa. You have a hus-band who is handsome and successful. You could be the toast of Washington if you put your mind to it. And you have a lovely little daughter who would bring light into your life if you allowed her to. Would you like me to bring her in to see you now?”

Theresa shook her head. “You don't understand. I try to love Eileen, I really do, and I know she is a sweet child, but I can't. It was too much to ask of me. I should never have—” She broke off as Bamey came into the room.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting a chin-wag,” he said. “I came to see how you were feeling.”

“About the same,” she said. “My limbs feel as if they are made of jelly”

“You should make an effort, my love,” Bamey said. “You will never get strong if you don't exercise in the fresh air.”

“Fresh air, where is there fresh air on this accursed river?”she demanded, her voice suddenly strong. “I hate this house and every-thing about it. It has brought us nothing but trouble and grief. Why can't we go away, Bamey? Let’s get far away from this accursed place.”

“You know we have to maintain a residence in the state which I represent in Congress,” Bamey said, “but I have offered many times to take you to Europe as soon as you are strong enough for the journey You only have to tell me and I'll make the arrangements for you.”

“And would you come too? Would you spend the summer in England with me, or France, or even Ireland?”

“I have work to do, Theresa. I'm a public servant, remember? Take Clara with you. Take Molly. You seem to tolerate her presence well.”

“Oh yes,” Theresa’s eyes fastened on me. “You could show me around Ireland, Molly. You could introduce me to all the family.”

I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “First you must make yourself strong enough to travel,” I said. “Your limbs re-ally will turn to jelly if you keep to your bed.”

“I'll make an effort, I promise. 111 get up tomorrow.”

“I'll have Adèle bring up your sleeping powder so that you get a good night’s sleep.” Bamey leaned to kiss her forehead. “I think we'll leave her in peace now, Molly.”

Theresa didn't protest as I was ushered from the room.

“You see how she is,” Bamey whispered as soon as we were out-side her door on the upstairs landing. “She'll never be strong enough to travel to Europe. She’s fine for a few days, then she collapses again. I should never have allowed those damned Sorensen women to come. It’s the séances that have upset her.”

“Maybe if you let them have one last séance and Theresa really can speak with her child, she'll be content,” I suggested.

“How can she speak with her child? It’s ludicrous.” Barney’s voice rose dangerously “He was not quite two years old, for God’s sake. Even if those charlatans could make him appear, he could scarcely say a word!”

“He may have grown more articulate in heaven,” I said cautiously.

He looked at my solemn face and burst out laughing. “God, Molly, you're as much a cynic as I am.” He moved closer to me. “You and I would make a great pair.” He was so close now that I stepped away and found my back pressed against the railing that ran around the gallery. “Theresa wouldn't mind, you know,” he whispered, so close to me now that his knee was forcing forward through my light skirts. “She'd be all for it. Keep it in the family. She likes it like that. Less complications.”