The Irish Bride (28 page)

He realized he was only digging
himself a deeper hole. “No, I didn’t mean that. Besides, I thought
you were glad that we have a parish now so we can attend mass and
see the neighbors. You have some friends like Marigold Lewis
and—and—” He tapped his forehead with his fingertips, trying to
remember the other women she’d met.

She gave him a look of utter
frustration and closed the book with a loud clap. “I
am
glad, ye great
dunderhead! But I expect to see you, as well!”

Didn’t she understand that he was
working this hard for her? He sat on the bed. “I’m sorry, little
red one. I know I’ve been busy, but it will all pay off for us. I
promise. And I haven’t broken a promise to you yet.” He locked his
little finger with hers where her hand rested on the coverlet. At
least she didn’t pull away. He remembered something she’d said when
he walked in. “Ye wanted to tell me something? What?” She turned
her face away and a moment or two passed. “What is it?” he
urged.

When she looked back at him,
tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s important. More important
than your
damned
meeting.”

He’d heard her swear only one other
time, and it was when she was very angry. Her tears were a harsher
punishment than her anger, though. “What is it, then?”

“
I—we—there’s going to be a
child.”

He squinted at her and shrugged,
perplexed. “A child?”

“
Yes, a child! You and I,
we’re going to have a baby.”

He stared at her with wide eyes and a
huge grin. “A baby? Really?” Now she was crying in earnest, and he
felt like the world’s greatest cad.

“
Would I joke about such a
thing? I planned a nice dinner and I was going to tell you after.
But you left.”

No wonder she was so upset. He took
her into his arms, and though she was stiff at first, she relaxed
against him. “I wish you had told me before I went out the door. I
never would have left ye if I’d known.”

“
I didn’t want to just blurt
it out like that. It’s—it’s
special
.”

“
Aye, it is, very special.”
He looked off across the room, imagining a red-haired lad. “A
son.”

She gave him a slight frown. “I didn’t
say that! It might be a girl, ye know.”

“
It might be,” he agreed,
but thought to himself,
a son!
“You’re sure?”

“
I’m sure.”

“
Then you must rest,” he
said, pulling back to look at her tear-streaked face. “Do you think
we can get Mrs. Hill to come back?”

Making a rude noise with her mouth,
she said, “I don’t want that woman back here, and I don’t need
anyone. Did our mams have housekeepers? No, they had their children
without even enough to eat or peat for the fire. I’m sturdy. I’ll
do.”

He shook his head, baffled. “Farrell,
I don’t understand why ye resist every bit of peace, ease, and
comfort I try to give you. Don’t you know that I only want to make
your life better? Happier?”

She sat up a little and looked into
his face. God, but she was a beauty with those green eyes and
delicate copper brows. “We both grew up barely seeing a farthing
from one year to the next. I learned to live without and to be
thrifty. I can’t forget all that overnight. Besides, satin dresses
and pretty china are lovely, but they aren’t what will make me
happy.”

“
What is it
then?”

“
I want to farm that claim
out back.”

“
What? When?”

“
I’d hoped this spring, but
I might be otherwise occupied now.”

“
I can plow it for ye come
February. How can I know what you want if you don’t tell me?
Besides, you can have both, can’t you? Nice things and a
farm?”

She nodded, a bit unwillingly. “Aye, I
guess. But I’d like a husband at home, too.”

“
Once we’re established, I
promise I’ll be home more often.” Aidan supposed that a frugal wife
was better than one who spent him into the poorhouse. But now, more
than ever, he had reason to work hard. His child would not grow up
ignorant entirely, or be educated in the hedges. There would be
real school and perhaps, God willing, university. It made him a
little nervous to think about it—an O’Rourke going to university.
His own parents had not even been able to read or write.

He lay down beside her and pulled her
closer. “Just the same, I don’t want you to wear yourself out. Um,
when do ye think the babe will come?”

“
In the spring, around May I
think.” She yawned. “I’ve been so sleepy lately, I can barely keep
my eyes open.”

He lay with Farrell sleeping in his
arms till the candle burned low. He eased her to her pillow and
moved the book from her lap so that he could undress for bed.
Morning would come early for him, and now more than ever, he had
reason to be up before the dawn, pushing the crew to keep the mill
running at top speed.

A baby.

“
I love you,
céadsearc
,” he whispered
to her sleeping form, and drew the blankets to her chin.

* * *

“
I tried to find out about
her for you, your lordship, but O’Rourke wouldn’t say anything. To
hear him, you’d almost think he has no wife. But I’ve talked to
people who have met her. They say she’s got fire-red hair, and
they’ve verified her name—Farrell.”

Seth Fitch reported to Noel Cardwell
in the room he’d taken at the Linn City Hotel, just across the
river from Oregon City. As always, Fitch remained standing, like
any good butler or manservant who recognized his place in the
social order.

Noel paced the room, his hands behind
his back, as he studied the pattern of the rug beneath his boots.
“And you say he has his own business? Not a farm?”

Fitch filled him in on what details he
had about O’Rourke’s enterprise. “He’s doing well, it seems. But
he’s also making some enemies.”

Noel looked up, interested. “Is he?
Tell me more.”

“
I’ve lingered in the
taverns around town. Some of his employees are not too happy with
the change of the mill’s ownership.”

That didn’t surprise Noel. The working
class always had some whining complaint, about their pay, their
employers, their working conditions. The ungrateful
good-for-nothings. God knew he’d heard it all often enough in
Skibbereen.

“
What about other merchants
and businessmen? Any complaints there?”

“
None that I know of. In
fact, I’ve heard mostly good things about the man, that he’s honest
and ambitious. Dr. McLoughlin speaks well of him too.”

Noel made a sour face at the name.
Although John McLoughlin was a wealthy prominent citizen in the
Oregon Territory, Noel had learned that the Canadian-born man had
defied a direct order from his own employer, Hudson’s Bay Company,
by providing aid and comfort to emigrating settlers. It had been a
British-controlled territory and their aim, naturally, had been to
discourage such settlement. Instead, softhearted McLoughlin had
extended credit to them, cared for their sick, fed, clothed, and
housed them. He even gave them seed for planting and donated land
for public use, including five different churches, a school and a
jail. Eventually he resigned from Hudson’s Bay Company and
relinquished his British citizenship by becoming an American. And
this after he’d received a knighthood from Queen Victoria herself.
God, what Noel wouldn’t give to kneel before his queen and receive
the tap of her scepter. The man’s actions were beyond Noel’s
comprehension. So of course he would think well of Aidan O’Rourke,
and Noel knew he could expect no assistance from him in bringing
the bastard down.

“
McLoughlin will be no
help,” Noel said aloud. “But this discontentment among the mill
employees could work in our favor.” He went to the window and
looked out at the river rolling past and the large, snow-covered
mountain on the gray, eastern horizon. “In fact, it might be
smarter to take advantage of their unhappiness and win McLoughlin’s
favor separately.” It could serve as a screen between himself and
the outcome of his plan, but he didn’t voice the idea. In the end,
he would sacrifice anyone, including the dog-faithful Fitch, to
attain his goal and keep himself above suspicion. Farrell would be
his, just as soon as he dispatched her troublesome
husband.

“
Shall I mingle with the
mill workers, your lordship?” Fitch asked.

“
Yes, see if you can learn
anything else. But for God’s sake, be discreet. There’s no point in
arousing undue curiosity. We can’t know who might decide to play
both sides against the middle, befriending you and then betraying
you to O’Rourke.”

Fitch nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“
In the meantime, I’ll see
about getting an introduction to McLoughlin. Perhaps that famed
generosity of his can work to my advantage.”

* * *

The next month or so went smoothly
enough. Farrell’s clothes were getting to be too small and she
spent part of her time letting out the waist seams of her dresses.
But she knew there would come a point when she’d have to stitch up
new things to wear for later on, when she was grew much bigger.
Fortunately, her queasy stomach had finally calmed down and she was
feeling altogether better, Brigit be thanked.

One morning she sat in the parlor,
working on her alterations, chatting and having tea with Marigold
Lewis, a woman close to her own age whom she’d met at church.
Marigold’s husband had recently presented her with a charming
little pony cart which she drove all over town. The little beastie
that pulled it was a sweet, gentle animal but strong enough to do
the job, and it gave Marigold the mobility that Farrell craved.
Unless someone came to get her, or Aidan was available to take her,
Farrell had to walk everywhere. That hadn’t been a problem in
Ireland—her excursions rarely took her farther than a mile or two
from home. But this was a big territory. Things were more spread
out, and it rained as much here as it did in Ireland. Of course,
the cart offered no shelter against the weather, but Marigold,
possessing an ingenuity that Farrell recognized and respected, had
suspended a tarp to go over the seat of the cart to cover her on
rainy days. Farrell had learned long ago that resourcefulness could
mean the difference between surviving and not.

“
Maybe I should talk to
Aidan about getting one of those wee carts. I could go to mass for
some of the feast days, if I was of a mind, and I wouldn’t feel so
alone up here. Maybe it could be my Christmas present—for the next
five years!”

They both laughed, and Marigold’s
long, bony face lighted with enthusiasm. “Definitely, that would be
wonderful. That little cart has made my life easier, I can tell
you. I do my errands in town and go calling—oh, all kinds of
things. And now that you’re expecting, you shouldn’t be walking too
far. My doctor said it isn’t good for the baby.” She had two
children of her own.

“
Really?” Farrell had never
consulted a doctor in her entire life.

“
Yes, a little exercise and
fresh air is enough.”

Just then, as if in response, Farrell
felt a flip-flop low in her belly. She let out a quiet gasp of
delight. Putting her hand over the place, she waited. There it was
again.

“
What?” The other young
woman looked alarmed. “Are you all right?”

Farrell laughed in surprise, her mouth
open in astonishment. “The baby moved.”

Marigold pressed a hand to her chest
and laughed in relief. “Oh! I remember the first time that happened
to me.”

Farrell was so excited she threw down
her sewing and rose from the sofa. “I can’t wait to tell Aidan.”
She would hurry down the quarter mile to the mill and find Aidan to
tell him. Giggling, she ran to the kitchen and grabbed her shawl
from its hook by the back door. With her hand on the knob, she was
ready to leave.

“
Farrell, wait!” Marigold
hurried after her, her heels tapping on the hardwood floor in the
hallway. “You can’t do that.”

“
Why not?”

“
Well, dear, it isn’t at all
fitting. Think a moment of where you’re going.”

Farrell nodded. “Oh. Of course, you’re
right.” She couldn’t do this. It wouldn’t be appropriate. If Aidan
were a farmer out in the fields with just his horse, that would be
different. They would have no other witnesses but the earth and
sky. Oh, and the horse. But the mill was big, noisy, and dirty,
full of men shouting to be heard over the din, and not a place
where a woman went to tell her husband about something so private.
She’d been inside the mill only twice and those visits had proved
to be quite enough.

Though she might burst with the
anticipation, she’d wait until suppertime. She took off her shawl
and went back to the study to take up her sewing again. After
Marigold left, she spent most of her day wearing a secret little
smile and cherishing her secret.

That evening, Farrell and Aidan were
sitting at the dining room table, enjoying poached salmon, when she
said casually, “I felt the baby move today.”