Authors: Linda Daly
“To my left, between Boulevard over yonder and that evergreen.”
Nodding politely to her, he then extended a hand to Felicity who took it
and stepped out of the carriage as well.
As Montgomery lifted and secured the canvas roof of the hansom
carriage, both women waited by the side of the rig and began adjusting
their gloves and parasols, discreetly looking in the direction Montgomery
had said Gilbert was hiding. From where they stood sheltered by the rig,
they could not see anything but shadows around the evergreen and a trail of
rigs that had pulled up along Boulevard and the entrance to Central Park.
Frustrated, they watched as more carriages passed, unable to see the man
hiding among the bushes.
“Are you sure he’s still there Montgomery?” Miranda whispered.
Peering across the street into the park she gasped. “Wait, I think I see
him . . . Yes right next to the tall blue spruce! What is he doing? Is he going
to cross Boulevard and head the other way? Oh dear, we’ll lose him if he
does. See him Felicity? It is Gilbert, isn’t it?”
“Miss, stay behind the rig or he’ll see you,” Montgomery scolded,
offering his hand to Felicity to help her back inside the covered carriage.
As Felicity entered, her eyes scanned the area and seeing what the
others had, she whispered, “I see him. Yes, I do believe it is Mr.
O’Flaherty.”
Gazing around the back of the cab, Miranda shooed her driver away as
he tried to assist her into the cab as well. “Wait Montgomery!”
As the three watched--Gilbert--who was in full view, darted across the
busy street and into oncoming traffic. Just as he did, shouting from another
carriage rang out. “There he is!”
The three of them watched in horror as the man on foot began running
with the carriage following closely behind. Miranda, so caught up in seeing
Gilbert trying to outrun the carriage, held her gloved hands to her mouth.
“Run Gilbert,” she whispered, unable to move from where she stood,
seeing the driver crack his whip to force the horses to run faster as they
bore down on Gilbert trying to escape.
Her heart beat quickened in fear and she screamed into her gloves
biting her own finger, seeing the horse and carriage run over Gilbert.
Turning from the scene and leaning into the carriage, she shook her head as
tears ran down her cheeks. “Dear God, no! They’ve killed him.”
“Hush up miss, or they will see you!” Montgomery ordered in a hoarse
whisper.
Turning toward to the street, she saw the carriage that had trampled
Gilbert make a sharp turn, which would pass directly by them. Holding her
breath, Miranda knelt down behind the back wheel of the buggy next to
Montgomery. From her vantage point she recognized the driver and his
passenger at once and gasped. The driver, Daniel Hobbs, so busy
maneuvering the rig onto the road that led into the park, did not notice her,
nor did his passenger, Tad. Both men, preoccupied at leaving the scene of
their crime and assessing if they had been successful in running the man
over, called out to one another as the hansom cab sped past them.
“Is he moving? Did we get him?” yelled Daniel.
“We got him alright,” replied Tad as he pulled himself back into the
covered front of the cab and lowered his hat shielding his face from any
onlookers that might see him. “Now get the hell out of here, before we are
spotted!”
Shaken to her core, witnessing such a deliberate and brutal attack,
Miranda looked at her driver and asked, “What should we do?”
Standing he whispered, “Nothing! We wait here for a few minutes to
make sure Master Honeycutt doesn’t return then we head back to the
orphanage and forget what we just saw.”
“No!” spat Miranda, jerking away from her driver who was trying to
get her back inside the carriage just as Felicity stepped out.
“I agree, Miranda. Come follow me . . .” Before the Negro driver could
stop the two women, they dashed across the street and cut across the park
to the other road where they found Gilbert moaning softly on the side of
the street. As other carriages passed--apparently not seeing the injured
man--the two women on the verge of hysteria began to run to him but
stopped suddenly seeing the shadow of another man step out from behind
another blue spruce.
“Miranda and Felicity, I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”
Startled to hear their names being called, the two frightened women
grasped hold of the other’s hand.
“Who’s there?” called Miranda, adjusting her eyes to the dusk. As the
man drew nearer, they both sighed in relief seeing James Sterling
approaching them.
“Oh James, it’s you. Thank heavens! There has been a dreadful
accident and we need your assistance,” Felicity urgently called to him.
“Our iceman, Gilbert O’Flaherty, has just been run down. Please help us,”
she sobbed.
By this time Montgomery had joined the two women, stood off to the
side and nodded to Mr. Sterling. Judging by the look of concern on the
hired help’s face, Miranda felt it necessary to try to explain. “Mr. Sterling, I
insisted Montgomery bring us here . . . And as you can see it’s a good thing
we did. Time is of the essence if we are to help Mr. O’Flaherty. Won’t you
please come see what we can do for him?” she begged, turning to go to
Gilbert who was still lying curled up along the side of the road.
“Miranda I beseech you, turn around. You and Felicity go back to your
carriage at once and forget everything that has happened here tonight.”
Stomping her foot, Miranda said defiantly, “No! Are you mad? That
man was injured on purpose. For all I know he could be dying and I will
not turn my back on him. Now either you assist me or I’ll do it myself. But
by God, I will not just stand by and watch him die and do nothing!”
“Please James,” Felicity chimed in with her friend, looking at him
sympathetically. “Won’t you please help him? Surely, you saw how he was
run down.”
Taking a drag of his rolled cigarette and then dropping the butt to the
ground and putting it out with his boot, James looked at Felicity then at
Montgomery and said, “Help me get him over to my cab.” He pointed to a
carriage parked on Boulevard not far from where Gilbert lay.
“No, sir. I will not do that and risk being brought into this mess.”
“Oh but you could be persuaded to, if the price were right. Couldn’t
you Montgomery?” James proclaimed in a suggestive tone while glaring at
the man, as only a man can, who knows another could be bought. Not
waiting for his response James anxiously directed his attention back to
Felicity. “You and Miranda wait in the coach while we tend to your friend,
Felicity.” Seeing the two of them hesitate, he said, “Please. I promise, I’ll
take care of everything.”
“Fine, but take him back to the orphanage so we can tend to his
wounds. That is if he’s still alive,” she meekly said.
“That’s too risky! What if he doesn’t pull through?” protested James.
Glancing at Miranda then back at James, Felicity said, “Well, if Mr.
O’Flaherty doesn’t pull through, I will be forced to tell the authorities
everything we saw. Including the fact that you saw Mr. Hobbs and Tad run
that poor man down in cold blood just as we did, and did nothing to stop
them. On the other hand, if I can help him, all will be forgotten, now
wouldn’t it?” From her look, James knew she meant what she said.
“Fine! I’ll follow closely behind you, but there was little I could do
against a horse and carriage.”
“Of course. How unkind of me to suggest otherwise,” she added
apologetically while turning to Miranda. “Come dearest, let Mr. Sterling
tend to Gilbert.”
Slowly the two of them turned to leave as James and Montgomery
walked toward Gilbert who occasionally moaned. Hearing the man yelp in
pain as they carried him to the Sterling’s rig, soothingly Felicity said,
“Don’t fret Miranda dear, I’m sure Gilbert will be just fine.”
Reaching their rig, Miranda looked at her friend. “How could Tad do
such a thing? Why he’s nothing but a cold-blooded murderer!”
“Now Miranda, you know Tad was not driving!”
“That much is true. But he didn’t do anything to stop that fiendish
friend of his either. Why, it was as if he too wanted to run Gilbert down as
well? But why?”
Not having an answer for her friend, Felicity helped the distraught
Miranda safely inside the coach and promptly closed the blinds to prevent
anyone passing by from noticing her before she took a seat next to her
friend. As the two women waited for Montgomery to return, they both
trembled in the darkened carriage, reliving the incident in their minds.
Unable to accept what they had witnessed, nor understand how two men of
good standing could be capable of such a dastardly deed, the two sat
dumbfounded searching for a reasonable explanation. But knowing there
was none, Miranda closed her eyes and softly wept. Ashamed that she had
once allowed Tad to hold her in his arms and eagerly kiss him, she began to
sob.
“Oh Felicity, how could he do such a thing? I hate him . . . I tell you I
hate him!”
“Shh, you’re just upset,” she said, tenderly trying to comfort her friend,
but Felicity too found it hard not to despise a man capable of such
treachery.
In the middle of the night Felicity tiptoed into her husband’s office
which had been converted to a temporary shelter for Gilbert, to check on
Miranda. As Felicity had thought, Miranda was once again asleep in a chair
beside her patient. Inhaling deeply, she shook her head disapprovingly.
From the first night they had brought the unconscious Gilbert to the
orphanage, Miranda took it upon herself to tend to his every need, as if she
were responsible for his well being. Despite her and James trying to
explain she had done nothing to cause this, Miranda stubbornly remained
by Gilbert’s side.
In the past when Benjamin had been called out of town on business,
Miranda stayed with Felicity, so when a note was sent to the Honeycutt’s
that she was staying for a few days with Felicity, no one was alarmed or
suspicious. It was as if the whole incident of Gilbert being run over never
happened.
Disheartened by such thoughts, Felicity drew closer to Miranda and
noticed the rolled up bandage in her lap. Realizing Miranda must have
wrapped Gilbert’s ribs again, Felicity gently bent over and tapped her
friend on the shoulder.
Immediately Miranda jerked awake. Seeing Felicity, she smiled
wearily. “You gave me such a fright.”
“Miranda dear, you need some real rest. Please come to bed. I’m sure
Gilbert won’t wake up and if he does we’ll hear him.”
Stubbornly Miranda shook her head. “I can’t Felicity. Don’t you see, if
he does come to, and finds himself in a strange place, he could cause
himself serious danger.”
“Oh Miranda, you heard the doctor, Gilbert sustained a serious blow to
the head besides breaking several ribs, and he might never come around.
Surely you staying by his side day and night is not doing him or you any
good.”
“Don’t say such a thing! I know he’ll pull through this. He just has to.”
“Sweetheart, all we can do is pray for him, but I’m genuinely worried
about you, too. Surely you not eating or sleeping can’t be of any help to
Gilbert now,” Felicity whispered.
“Oh Felicity, I know you mean well, but please let me stay here.
Helping Gilbert soothes me as I’ve told you. I couldn’t save Joseph, but
maybe I can save him.”
Kissing her friend on the forehead, Felicity nodded. “Very well,
Miranda, just please be aware that what happened to Gilbert is no more
your fault than what happened to poor Joseph.”
Tiptoeing out of the room, Felicity watched as Miranda stood up and
changed the cloth on Gilbert’s forehead. Sighing, she closed the door
behind her, saying a silent prayer.
Dear Lord, please heal Gilbert, not just
for his sake but for Miranda’s too.
Inside Benjamin’s study, Miranda tenderly wiped Gilbert’s brow with a
cool compress. Placing it over his forehead, she brushed her fingers
through his hair, and whispered, “Oh please wake up Gilbert and let me see
those beautiful green eyes of yours.”
Not feeling the least bit apprehensive being so familiar with his body,
having cared for his every need for the past three days, her fingers traced
his face and she spoke again to him softly. “Please wake up and tell me
why Tad would do such a thing to you.”
Absent-mindedly, she caressed his forearm with her fingertips,
admiring his muscular arms and chest. Reaching for his hand, she held it in
hers tenderly. “You have such strong hands Gilbert.” Stroking it tenderly,
she placed his hand back by his side and returned to the chair she had
become so familiar with. Feeling stiff and tired, Miranda stretched her neck
and rubbed it. Gaining no relief, she leaned her head back into the chair,
reliving the scene of the accident again in her mind, hating Tad more as
every day passed.
She sighed heavily, closed her eyes, and felt a tear ran down her cheek.
“Dear God, please let him live,” she prayed. Then glancing back at Gilbert
and seeing his green eyes staring at her, Miranda jumped from her seat.
“Oh Gilbert, you’re awake.”
Instantly, she leaned over him. “Don’t be alarmed. You’re safe at the
orphanage, no one can hurt you. Are you in pain?” she whispered.
Trying to lift himself from the couch, he winced, and seeing the
bandage around his ribcage he looked at Miranda. “Aye . . . How long have
I been here?”
“Three days. Please don’t try to move, Gilbert, you have several
broken ribs and a broken leg. You’ll only hurt yourself more.”
“Why are you here?”
Softly Miranda explained how she and Felicity had witnessed him
being run down and how they had brought him there for his safety. Seeing
no reaction to her explanation, she asked, “Are you thirsty? Can I get you
something?”
“Aye.”
Miranda immediately went to the table and poured him a drink of
water. Returning to his side, she tenderly slipped one hand beneath his head
while bringing the glass to his mouth. Their eyes locked onto one another
and instinctively Miranda assured him again. “I mean you no harm Gilbert,
honestly. I only want to help you.”
Sipping at the water, Gilbert leaned his head back onto the pillow and
whispered, “I don’t need help, especially from you.”
Miranda had expected such a reaction, but hearing it didn’t make it
easier, and her eyes smarted. “I don’t know why Tad and his friend did
such a despicable thing to you, Gilbert, but I swear to you, I had nothing to
do with it.”
Closing his eyes to her, he asked, “Who’s Joseph?”
Miranda gasped, realizing that he must have been awake when Felicity
had been in the room. Realizing she owed him no explanation to her
personal life, but feeling obligated to tell him, she sheepishly said, “Joseph
was our slave and my half brother. He died because I tried to help him to
freedom.”
Gilbert glanced at her and smiled faintly. “That’s reassuring, lass, since
I find myself depending on you too.”
Comprehending that he was trying to add levity to the situation, she
returned his smile. Suddenly aware that if he had been awake to hear her
and Felicity’s conversation, he must have been awake when she had run
her fingers through his hair and caressed his face. She sheepishly looked at
him. “You should have let me know you were awake.”
“What was I supposed to think? I wake up, me head’s throbbing, it
hurts to breathe, and there you are sitting by my side, sleeping in a chair.
Hell, I thought I was some prisoner.”
“You’re no prisoner Gilbert. We’re only trying to care for your wounds
and keep you safe but I’m afraid you are a wanted man for the murder of a
David Sullivan.”
Obviously upset at hearing that, Gilbert glared at Miranda. “I didn’t
kill me bud, your lordship’s mate did! That’s why they tried to kill me, to
keep me mouth shut.”
Confused by his statement and seeing he was obviously in pain trying
to speak, Miranda tried to console him. “Gilbert, you mustn’t overdo it,
there will be time later to explain . . .”
“No. I did not kill me mate. Hobbs did. You believe me, don’t you?”
Miranda had no reason to believe him other than the urgency she saw
in his eyes as he spoke, and she nodded. “I believe you Gilbert. Just please
rest now, and tomorrow, you can . . .”
“I’ve rested for three days, lass.”
Clearly, he needed to explain everything, so Miranda sat and listened to
the events that led to David Sullivan’s demise as he spoke in a strained
voice, from the pain in his ribs. Miranda was shocked how forthright
Gilbert had been, including his arrangement with Daniel Hobbs to cheat
money from the non-suspecting Tad. Stunned, Miranda sighed and looked
at him, asking why he would have done such a thing to begin with, not in
accusing voice, but rather as a means to fully understand the situation. As
she listened, she came to realize that Gilbert had taken the job for the sole
purpose to making a fresh start for him and his sister in New York.
“Gilbert, are you telling me that Mr. Hobbs killed this man, for the sole
purpose to silence you? And for you to continue to extort money from
Tad?”
“Silence aye, but I told him to find another patsy to rob his lordship, I
was through with the lot of them. Then after his lordship came to, Hobb’s
acted as if Tad had killed him.”
As hard as Miranda tried not to appear accusing, she found herself
disgusted by such deceit and asked, “And you said nothing?”
“Don’t be judging me, missy. Just leave me be. You got what you
wanted, so run along and tell your beloved he was duped by his mate and
then maybe the two of them will leave me and my sister alone.”
Stunned beyond belief, Miranda shook her head in denial. “First off,
Tad is not my beloved and secondly . . .”
Before she could finish Gilbert--obviously in pain by the look in his
eyes--stubbornly said, “You all are alike, the whole lot of you are nothin’
but liars.”
“How dare you say such a mean-spirited thing to me. I know you are
hurt and angry, but that gives you no cause to insinuate I’m a liar. Don’t
you understand Felicity and I have placed ourselves in grave danger by
harboring a fugitive, and caring for you? Which we gladly did to save you
from the injustices that we witnessed.”
Miranda, exhausted and overwhelmed by the accounts of the death of
an innocent man, and shocked by the actions of both Tad and Gilbert,
looked at him with contempt.
“Furthermore, don’t you dare pass judgment on my character when you
allowed another man think he was capable of murder. Not that I care what
you think of me, Mr. O’Flaherty, but just so you understand fully, I’ve
never lied to you. As a matter of fact, I shared with you this evening
something so personal and painful that I never discussed it with anyone,
not even Tad. And God knows, I regret ever exposing my heart to such a
wretched ungrateful man.”
“Is this your idea of caring for me? Yelling at me and calling me
wretched. I preferred you rubbing your hands through my hair, lass.”
Miranda gasped in utter shock that he would even bring up such a
delicate moment. Trying to regain her composure she said, “I’m sorry I lost
my temper. That was inexcusable of me, considering how ill you are. But
Mr. O’Flaherty, a gentleman would never bring up such an embarrassing
moment, especially since I thought you were unconscious.”
“Lass, I told ya before, me ain’t no gentleman like his lordship, who
says sweet nothin’s to ya in the garden so he can steal a kiss.”
Hearing his comment, and recalling the night Tad had kissed her in the
garden, the blood drained from Miranda's face. “Oh my God, you were
spying on me. How could you?”
Gilbert closed his eyes as if dismissing her and said, “Leave me be. I’m
tired and need me rest.”
Angered beyond reason, Miranda stood and peered down at her patient.
“How convenient, when I pleaded for you to rest you demanded to be
heard so I listened. Well now I demand an explanation for such unsavory
behavior.” Seeing he did not intend to answer her, Miranda stood over him,
fist planted firmly on her hip. “Fine, Mr. O’Flaherty, have it your way, but
I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, so eventually you are going to
have to answer me.”
After several minutes, Miranda, outraged, sat next to him and watched
his chest rise up and down as he struggled to breathe, coughing from time
to time. Seeing his cheeks turn red, Miranda knew his fever was returning.
Putting her own anger aside, she went to the dry sink and dipped another
cloth into the cool water. Then returning to his side, she removed the cloth
that was on his forehead, and replaced it with another. Gilbert opened his
eyes and grasped her wrist. “I told you before I don’t want your help.”
Glancing at his hand then back into his eyes she softly said, “Want it or
not, you’re going to have to accept it. You’re burning up with fever, so stop
being so pig-headed and let me care for you.”
His grip lessened around her wrist and he mumbled a thank you, while
Miranda softly placed his hand back to his side. Taking the other cloth to
the dry sink, she dipped it into the basin, all the while looking at the man
who could anger her faster than any other she had ever met. Retrieving the
quilt she had used to cover herself, she tenderly laid it across him, noticing
he was shivering.
Slipping her hand under his neck, he opened his eyes again and she
whispered softly, “Gilbert, please let me place this cloth at the base of your
neck to help break the fever, then I’ll fix you some broth.”
As she stepped away from his side, she noticed Felicity at the doorway
and Miranda smiled at her, seeing she had fixed a tray for him already.
“How’s our patient this morning?”
“Awake and cantankerous,” Miranda whispered, going to Felicity. “Did
we wake you?”
“No. I was already awake. Why don’t I give this to our pig-headed
patient while you get some badly needed rest, Miranda?” Felicity
deliberately paused so Miranda understood she had overheard their
conversation before continuing. Softly she smiled at her friend
reassuringly. “Less you’ve forgotten, Tad will be here in a few hours to
check in on us. And if you don’t want him to find you looking tired and
arouse his suspicion as to why, I suggest you rest and freshen up. Don’t
worry, I’ll take good care of our Mr. O’Flaherty.”
Nodding, Miranda left the room and went to Felicity and Benjamin’s
bedroom where she lay on the pillow, hearing Felicity speak softly to
Gilbert.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Mrs. Felicity
Myles, my husband is Reverend Benjamin Myles, and we run this
orphanage. Now, please take some of this broth and try to remain calm, Mr.
O’Flaherty.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Myles.”
“Shh, Mr. O’Flaherty,” Felicity interrupted. “It’s not me you should be
thanking, it’s Miranda who has been by your side day and night since your
unfortunate accident. Please do keep that in mind the next time you are
compelled to lash out at her for the injustices that have been brought down
against you.”
Hearing not another word, Miranda closed her eyes and wept softly in
a state of confusion. She was relieved that Gilbert was alive, yet filled with
anger and resentment at both his and Tad’s actions that had resulted in a
man’s death, and embarrassed he obviously had seen Tad kissing her in the
garden--something she wished never had taken place, knowing the type of
man Tad actually was. Overcome with anger and self-pity, she prayed, “Oh
God, please help me to put all my feelings aside and only help Gilbert now.
Not for me, or even him, but in memory of Joseph.”