Wishes on the Wind (6 page)

    Father Matthew hesitated again, his eyes on Meghan's suddenly averted face.

    "Is something wrong, Meghan? I thought you'd be happy to have a chance for an income. Your uncle would have less cause for complaint about financial strain if you could pay him something, and you could stop here at the rectory to continue your lessons before you go home every day." Father Matthew hesitated again. "Meghan, would you rather I recommend someone else?"

    "No, Father!" Meg's eyes snapped back to his, and she shook her head emphatically. "You're right. It'll be much easier at home if I can give Uncle Timothy money on a regular basis. And… and I thank you, Father, for thinking of me."

    But Meghan's smile was forced, and Father Matthew struggled against a growing sense of disquiet.

    "You're sure, Meg?"

    "Yes, I'm sure."

    "All right. I'll speak to Mrs. Lang and see if I can bring you up to the house for her approval tomorrow."

    "Thank you, Father."

    Still uncomfortable with her reaction, Father Matthew forced a smile. "Well, now that we've settled that, we can try our reading."

    Pushing her chair back from the table unexpectedly, Meghan stood up. "I think I'd better be going now, Father. Ma wasn't too well this morning, and if I get home early, I'll have some time to spend with her before I begin my evening chores."

    "All right, my dear."

    A peculiar discomfort lingering, Father Matthew was still staring at the door moments after Meg had slipped from sight.

    Meghan cast Father Matthew a quick glance as she stood silently beside him in the formal study of the Lang mansion. The interview was not going well.

    It wasn't as if she hadn't tried. In an attempt to present her best appearance prior to leaving the house that morning, she had donned the newer of her two worn dresses, and had taken extra time to tame her willful dark curls. However, it had taken no more than a brief glance in the mirror to reveal that her efforts had accomplished very little. The girl reflected in the glass was undersized for her years, and her dress, faded to an almost indistinguishable color, hung limply on a frame untouched by budding maturity. In contrast to her unimpressive stature, her mass of hair appeared wilder than ever, and her bright eyes seemed to overwhelm her small, tense face.

    She had left the house after a quick word to her mother earlier that morning, and with concealed trepidation had joined Father Matthew to make the long climb to the manor on top of the hill. What a house it was! It was even larger than she thought when up close, with great white columns in the front that appeared to stretch endlessly to the second floor, and a wide white porch that curved out on either side of the entrance like two graceful arms embracing it. She had gotten only a glimpse of the well-kept grounds and the grand stable that sat a considerable distance away, but she had noted then that Sean was right. Martin Lang provided better housing for his horses than he did for the men who worked in his mines. The thought stirred bitter emotions indeed. She'd had time to see no more before Father Matthew led her up the front steps to the great oak door.

    Ushered down the hallway into the darkly paneled room where they now stood, she had come face-to-face with Mrs. Lang for the first time.

    Raising a limp hand to her brow, disappointment obvious in her demeanor, Mrs. Lang openly evaluated Meghan's appearance.

    "I… I'm really uncertain if the girl will do, Father Mulligan. I had an older girl in mind, a more sturdy person who could do some of the heavier cleaning our aging Mabel can't manage any longer."

    Father Matthew's fine lips stiffened. "Meghan is a strong girl, Mrs. Lang."

    "But she's a child. I expected someone older."

    "Meghan is fourteen years old, soon to be a young woman, and she is intelligent and hard-working."

    Mrs. Lang shook her head, her expression vague. ''I had thought to have someone bigger… stronger."

    "You asked me to bring you a person who would make a reliable servant, Mrs. Lang. That I have done."

    A light color flushed the matron's smooth cheeks, and Meghan fought to conceal her satisfaction at Father Matthew's sharp response. The sting of her contact with David Lang still had not faded. David Lang had made it only too clear what he thought of the people in the valley, and of herself. Holding them in less than contempt, he did not think they were worth his time of day. But there was little work in the valley for a girl her age, and she could ill afford to decline this opportunity.

    Glancing again at Mrs. Lang as she started to speak, Meghan decided that her own feelings would be of little consequence at any rate. Mrs. Lang didn't like her.

    "Father Mulligan, I'm sorry if I offended you. It's only that I find it difficult to believe this frail child will be up to the work expected of her."

    Father Matthew's fair face colored. "And I apologize as well, Mrs. Lang. But in all good conscience, I can't leave here today without having done my best to persuade you that you're wrong. I think the most convincing argument I can make is to have Meghan speak for herself." Father Matthew looked at Meghan encouragingly. "I think Mrs. Lang has some questions to ask you. Speak up, dear, so she may have an opportunity to get to know you."

    Swallowing tightly, Meghan turned to Mrs. Lang's doubtful expression.

    David walked swiftly up the carpeted hallway, preoccupied with his thoughts. His informal, well-tailored riding garb of white shirtwaist, dark pants, and high riding boots showed the abuse of a hard morning's ride and his normally well-groomed hair was still ruffled from the wind. He was frowning, his dark brows furrowed over eyes glinting with frustration.

    Damn that Townsend! The man was intent on seeing problems with Fabian even when there were none. His reaction to the temperamental scene Fabian had just staged was all out of proportion, and he was certain he was going to have to do some fast talking when it was reported back to Uncle Martin. But Townsend was wrong. Fabian was well worth any trouble he caused.

    His thoughts interrupted by the mumble of conversation behind the closed study doors, David halted abruptly. Incredulous, he listened more closely to the voice that had caught his attention.

    "No, I haven't been in service before, ma'am, but I've much experience with household duties, coming from a family of nine."

    "I understand that, dear, but you must also understand your duties here would be quite different from work in a home where you're expected to do no more than can comfortably be accomplished by a girl your size."

    "As Father Matthew said, I'm very strong, ma'am."

    "But the heavy laundry baskets, the gardening chores… My dear, you're so small."

    "I'm growing every day, ma'am."

    Those polite responses on the other side of the door… David's incredulity grew. He knew that voice! It had sounded repeatedly in his mind after that disturbing hillside confrontation. His discomfort at the memory bothered him still as he took an involuntary step forward and opened the door.

    "Oh, David, dear!" Turning with the genuine smile she reserved for David alone, Letty stretched her hand out toward him. "Have you finished with your ride? I didn't expect you back so soon."

    "Fabian was acting badly, so I put him back in his stall."

    Taking Aunt Letty's hand, David turned toward the slender priest and the girl who stood beside him. Damn, it
was
her! There was no mistaking that wildly curly hair and those accusing blue eyes.

    Briefly meeting the girl's gaze, David was startled by the flash of hatred he saw there.

    "David, dear, this is Father Matthew Mulligan from the valley. And this is Meghan O'Connor. I approached Father Mulligan a few days ago about hiring a dependable girl to help with some of the downstairs chores that are beyond Mabel now. However, I was just explaining to him that Meghan is a bit too young for the work I had in mind."

    "I think you're making a mistake, Mrs. Lang." His thin face reflecting consternation, the priest responded directly to Aunt Letty without acknowledging the introduction, but David knew the slight was not deliberate. It was obvious the priest was upset.

    Looking again at the girl as she stood silently at the priest's side, David saw she deliberately avoided his gaze. He knew what she was thinking. She was waiting for him to tell his aunt about their clash on the hillside, and he wondered at his own reluctance to mention the incident. Surely, if the girl was inclined to violence such as she had demonstrated that day if she was unstable in some way…

    "There's no doubt in my mind that Meghan is a very special girl, Mrs. Lang." The priest was still talking. "She'd be a welcome addition to any household, including your own. She's dependable, steadfast, and even-tempered."

    The girl's mouth twitched and David withheld comment as the priest continued, "There's another reason you might feel inclined to decide in Meghan's favor." Casting the girl a glance, he continued soberly. "Meghan's father and brothers are the O'Connors who were killed in the mine fire a few months ago. It was a terrible accident, and no one's fault, but Mrs. O'Connor, Meg, and her brother, Sean, are all that's left of the family. And Mrs. O'Connor isn't well, you see."

    The priest continued speaking, but David heard only the echo of his own angry remarks that day on the hillside when the girl attacked him so unexpectedly. His face flushed.

    A glance at Aunt Letty revealed she was still unconvinced, and David slipped his arm around her shoulders, surprised to hear himself say, "Why don't you give the girl a chance, Aunt Letty?" At her doubtful look, he continued with a careless shrug, "She's probably stronger than she looks."

    "She's so young, David."

    "Father Mulligan seems to think she's the right girl, and he know her best." David squeezed her arm reassuringly. "You can snap her into shape if anyone can, Aunt Letty. Just look what you did with me."

    "Oh, David!" Her smile growing, Aunt Letty shook her head. "You're such a dear. I can't imagine why you'd concern yourself with a matter as trivial as the hiring of a servant, but I do know your interest pleases me as does most everything else you do."

    Aunt Letty turned to the waiting priest. "All right. We'll take the girl for a trial period, Father Mulligan, and if she proves herself, we'll keep her on." And then to David. "Will that suit you, dear?"

    "It's your decision, Aunt Letty."

    "It's settled then. She may start tomorrow. She may speak to Cook about the time to report."

    Unexpectedly relieved, David looked at the girl as the maid led    her out of the room. Startled at the unexpected look of hot resentment she flashed back at him, he felt anger rise.

    Damn it all! It served him right for speaking up for the unappreciative little snip! What had gotten into him, anyway?

    "Letty, what have you done!"

    Her pale eyes filling with tears as she stood opposite her husband in the study later that day, Letty faced Martin Lang's anger with acute surprise. He had arrived home from the mine a few minutes earlier. She had immediately followed him into the study, proud of herself and anxious for her husband's praise. She cast her nephew a helpless glance where he stood a few feet away.

    "I thought you'd be pleased that I hired someone from the valley, Martin."

    "Pleased! Letty, whatever made you think it would please me to entertain a papist in the bosom of my home?"

    Letty hesitated. "We're not
entertaining
the girl, dear. We're merely employing her. She's little more than a child, and I thought it would be a healing step for us to take showing the people below that we're not prejudiced against them, or afraid to have them in our house."

    "It's not a matter of prejudice, Letty!" Shaking his head, Martin Lang closed his eyes briefly in an effort to contain his impatience. "But I don't want one of them spying in my home. They're not to be trusted, any of them!"

    David interrupted, his expression wry. "Uncle Martin, this Meghan O'Connor is only a girl. I don't think she's been inducted into the Mollies yet."

    Martin turned toward his nephew with a warning glance.

    "I'll thank you to keep your sarcasm to yourself, David. The girl may seem harmless enough, but her father, most probably, is not."

    "Her father was the O'Connor who was killed in the mine fire, along with her five brothers."