In Like Flynn (7 page)

Eight

T
he child had only just gone and I was wondering whether it would be polite to take a second sandwich or a biscuit when masculine voices were heard from inside the house and three men appeared. I'd seen enough pictures to recognize my supposed cousin, Barney Flynn, but in the flesh he was even more imposing than his photographs. He was not very tall, but a well-built man, with a strong Irish cleft in his chin, a high complexion that indicated a life in the fresh air and a good head of red-brown hair on him. He was wearing a well-tailored light suit, although without an ascot at the neck. When he espied me, there was the proverbial Irish twinkle in his blue eyes and a smile that lit up his whole face.

“Well, would you look here. She’s arrived!” he exclaimed in a voice that bore a trace of Irishness, even though I knew he had been bom in New York. “My little cousin Molly, Cousin Rose’s child. I'd have known you anywhere.”

It was gratifying to know that I bore a family resemblance. I got to my feet. “I am indeed, sir, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Would you listen to her talk,” Barney said, turning to the two men with him. “Straight from the old country. Isn't she a delight?”

Barney grasped my hand and shook itfirmly. “But let’s have none of this formality. We're family here and you're as welcome as the flowers in May to dear old Adare.” He laughed at his own joke. “I hope youll be happy here, and more to the point, I hope you can bring Theresa out of her doldrums.”

“I'm sure she will,” Theresa said. “I've already fallen in love with her completely, my dear. If all your cousins are this delightful, then I might decide to undertake a trip to Ireland some time.”

“We live very simply compared to this,” I said. “Not a great house among us.”

“Wealth isn't everything, Molly,” Theresa said. “Money does not buy happiness, as Barney and I know only too well.”

“But I always say if you're going to be miserable anyway, it’s better to berichand miserable rather than poor and miserable.” The man to Barney’s right chuckled at his own wisdom. He had a loud, booming voice which matched his large person, his round, red face, piggy eyes and thinning sandy hair. Not the most attractive of men and probably somewhat older than Barney—although the latter had surprised me with the number of lines on his face. I had expected a young man, but his face was definitely careworn when he wasn't smiling. Who could blame him, having gone through what he had endured?

The large man came up to me and held out a beefy hand. “I'm Joseph Rimes, Miss Gaffney. Barney’s adviser, strategist and right-hand man. I trust youll enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rimes. I hope so indeed.” I nodded my head demurely, then glanced at the third member of the party. This had to be the pallid secretary Desmond O'Mara. Again not the most attractive of men. He had light hair, a pale face and the lightest of bulging eyes, giving the impression of a fish on a slab, and he wasn't regarding me with welcome in those codfish eyes.

Barney saw me looking at him. “Oh, and this is Desmond,” he said, tossing him off with a wave of his hand. “My secretary.”

“Miss Gaffney.” The man inclined his head. I did likewise.

“So have you boys finished your hard work for the day?” Belinda asked.

“We came out for a breather,” Barney said. “Have we missed Eileen?”

“Already made her appearance and gone again,” Belinda said, smiling up at her brother-in-law in what might have been a rather flirtatious manner. I wondered if Theresa had noticed, then I suspected she had as she said, in a flat voice, “If you want tea, I think you'll find it stewed.”

“No matter. I only wanted to see if our new guest had arrived and to say hello to my daughter,” Barney said. “Was she in good form?”

“She says the most outlandishly funny things without meaning to,” Belinda replied. “No sense of propriety at all.”

“Definitely a chip off the old block, eh, Barney?” Rimes slapped him on the back.

Theresa frowned. “I'll ask Cook to brew another pot if you'd like.” She rose to her feet.

Barney waved her aside. “Not necessary, my dear. I think well bring out the whiskey decanter instead, to celebrate a good day’s work.”

“I don't quite understand why you need to work in summer,” Cousin Clara said. “Is the Senate not in recess until fall?”

“You understand correctly, Cousin Clara, but there is a small matter of an election next year,” Joseph Rimes said. “Barney is up for reelection. The campaign strategy has to start now.”

“But surely everyone loves Barney,” Belinda said. “His reelection will be only a formality?”

“One hopes that will be true,” Barney said. “But you never know with politics. This new fellow they're putting up against me—he’s old money and will have the power of all those Vanwhosits backing him.”

“And more charisma than the last opponent next door.” Rimes nodded to his left.

“Watch what you're saying, Joe,” Theresa scolded. “We still have them as neighbors, however our politics may differ.”

“You think my voice is loud enough to carry that far?” Joseph Rimes asked, a grin on his large red face. “Or do they have spies, snooping in the shrubbery?”

This provoked general laughter.

“Aren't we supposed to be suffering through an evening with them some time soon?” Barney asked.

“We are dining there tomorrow night. I told you about it at breakfast. Honestly, Barney, you are hopeless. You never listen to a word I say.” Theresa frowned again. Tomorrow night, remember, so don't go making other plans or finding boring political people you just have to talk to.” For a frail dove, she could be quite forceful if she wanted to, I noted.

“And you haven't forgotten about tonight, have you, Barney?” Theresa continued. “The séance? Miss Emily and Miss Ella are going to try and contact Brendan for us.”

A spasm crossed Barney Flynn’s affable face. “I'll leave that to you ladies, if you don't mind. If we're going to start chatting with the dead, there’s a few fellows might want to come back and tell me what they think of me.”

“It’s no joking matter,” Miss Emily said in her deep smooth voice, “but if you don't wish to get in touch with your little son, then that’s entirely up to you.”

Theresa reached out and grabbed Barney’s hand. “Oh do come. Please do. You want to know that he’s all right, don't you? You'd like to hear his voice again?”

“Of course I would, it’s just…” He glanced across at the two women and left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Miss Emily had risen to her feet and tapped her sister on the arm. “If you would please excuse us, Mrs. Flynn. We need to rest and prepare ourselves mentally if we are to contact the spirits to-night. The room must be set up to make the atmosphere conducive to their appearance.”

Rigged up, more like it, I thought to myself and wondered if I might be able to spy on them I also got to my feet.

“Would you also think it very rude of me if I went to lie down also? The rigors of the journey are just catching up with me.”

“Of course, dear cousin.” Theresa beckoned to the maid who stood in the doorway. “We are about to retire inside ourselves. You men are welcome to sit out here and be eaten alive by mosquitoes. Alice, please show Miss Gaffney to her room and bring her up some hot water. I trust her trunk has already gone up? Good.” She smiled up at me. “We dine at seven-thirty, Molly. Nothing too formal. It is the country, after all, and then you are more than welcome to join us at the séance.”

“I'd be delighted,” I said, and departed with a polite bow.

“She’s really quite civilized, isn't she?” I heard Belinda’s clear voice floating after me. “Apparently all the Irish live don't in bogs.”

“This way, miss,” Alice said, hurrying me across the black and white marble-tiled entrance hall and up the wide main staircase. A stained glass window above the front door threw a rainbow of colors onto the dark carpeted stairs. At the second level a wood-paneled gallery ran around all four sides of the stairwell, with doors going off it. From inside one of these I heard a child singing in a sweet, clear voice. Little Eileen was relaxing after her teatime ordeal. Alice turned me to the left and headed around to the front part of the gallery. “The mistress thought you'd like to have the view,” she said and opened a door at the end of the hallway.

It was a comer room with windows at the front and side of the house, giving me a view of the Hudson and the rocky hillside beyond the lawns. A writing desk sat in one window and the bed was placed to enjoy the best of the view. An electric fan turned lazily in the high ceiling. The room was delightfully cool. The scent of the flowering creeper climbing up the house, mingled with the smell of newly mown grass, drifted in through the open windows.

“Thank you. I shall love it here,” I said, noting that my valise had already been unpacked and my dresses hung in the mahogany wardrobe. I was about to dismiss the maid when I remembered that I had a task to fulfill.

“So how long have you been with Senator and Mrs. Flynn, Alice?” I asked.

“About two years now, miss.”

“Not very long, then. Are you fitting in well? Are the others making you welcome?” I gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s not always easy fitting into a household, is it?”

“As a matter of fact it wasn't too hard,” Alice said. “Most of the girls haven't been here much longer than I have. Mrs. Flynn doesn't seem to keep servants too long. I don't know why. She’s been nice enough to me.”

“I expect they all run off and get married,” I said, giving her a knowing look that made her blush and giggle. “Any handsome male servants around?”

“Ooh, miss, you shouldn't talk that way. The mistress doesn't want us walking out with the male servants. We'd get dismissed on the spot.”

“I suppose she doesn't want another Albert Morell on her hands,” I said.

Alice put her hand up to her mouth to stifle a squeak of terror. “We don't mention him, miss. The devil himself, that man was, by all accounts. Cook says she knew he was up to no good when he helped himself to her meringues, after she'd made sure she'd done therightamount for a dinner party too.”

“How disgusting,” I said. “I wonder why Senator Flynn hired him in thefirstplace if he was such a tricky character.”

“I wouldn't know, miss. He had a way with automobiles, and with horses too, so they say.”

“What else do they say about him?”

She looked around nervously. “I shouldn't be gossiping like this, miss. I'd get in terrible trouble if the mistress knew. Albert Morell was before my time, thank the good Lord. It’s all over and past and they've put it behind them.” She headed for the door as rapidly as possible. “Just ring the bell by the door when you're ready for your hot water,” she said. “I'll have Cook stoke up the boiler to make sure it’s nice and hot.”

Then she curtseyed and was gone.

They obviously hadn't put it all behind them, I thought as I wandered the room, inspecting the furniture. If they had, there would be no need for tonight’s séance.

I took off my hat, unbuckled my shoes, and flopped back onto the bed. Ring when I wanted hot water, indeed. I could easily adapt to this kind of life. Maybe I should just forget about earning a living and keep Theresa company all summer.

Oh to be sure, and I'd be likely to wind up in jail as an imposter, I reminded myself. I sat up and stared at my own face in the dressing table mirror, a face slightly worse the wear from travel with a smudge of soot on my nose and my hair blown by the river crossing. “You have a job to do,” I said to the face, “or rather, two jobs. You'll need your wits about you, so no slacking off!”

I got up and rang for the hot water. When I had washed and attempted to tame my flyaway hair, I examined the dresses hanging in the wardrobe, wondering which might be suitable for a not too formal dinner. Gus had lent me one silk ball gown and a sea green formal taffeta dress that went well with my coloring and red hair. I tried it on and was pleased with the result. What a pity no eligible young men would be there to admire it. No men at all, apart from the overbearing Mr. Rimes and the fishy Mr. O'Mara. And, of course, the Senator, who was known to be one for the ladies. I wondered if my relationship would make me safe from his advances, and whether he behaved himself when his wife was present.

I could still hear the sound of voices floating up from the veranda. I managed to fasten the hooks on the back of my dress with much effort and difficulty. Clearly one needed a servant to get in and out of fashionable clothing, and also a corset too, I decided, as I tried to breathe in sufficiently to bring the waist together. Gus had also had the foresight to lend me one of those articles of torture.

“If a maid comes to dress you, Molly, she'll expect you to be wearing the correct undergarments.”

I examined it again now, having no clue how one laced such a contraption. I had never worn a corset in my life and had sworn never to do so. In my present situation, however, it might prove to be a necessity. I wrapped it around me and wrestled with the hooks and laces.

Feeling very uncomfortable and unable to breathe, I stood in my doorway listening. No sounds came from inside the house. If they were all still on the veranda, this might be a good moment to snoop on the Misses Sorensen as they prepared for tonight’s exhibition. I tiptoed down the stairs and began opening doors on the lower level. The first was a grand drawing room. The heavy red velvet drapes were drawn, but in the darkness I could make out the gilt mirrors and portraits on the walls and the plush sofas and armchairs, even a Greek bust or two on plinths. Behind it was a library, with tall mahogany bookcases covering the walls. Then came what must have been the master’s study—a large desk with a round-backed leather chair at it and the smell of cigar smoke in the air.

“May I help you, miss?”

I spun around guiltily at the sound of the voice behind me. I hadn't heard anyone approaching. A distinguished-looking man in a frock coat was eyeing me with suspicion. He had sleek gray hair and a Roman nose that made him look like a bird of prey. I wondered if he was another relative or political adviser.