Hush Now, Don’t You Cry (2 page)

“Alderman Hannan himself,” Daniel said. “It’s his house.”

“Alderman? I didn’t realize you hobnobbed with aldermen.”

“Ah. There’s still a lot you don’t know about me,” he replied with a hint of that typical Daniel Sullivan swagger that I had found in turn attractive and annoying.

We made our way cautiously up the gravel drive toward the dark looming shape of that castle. Not a single light was visible and I hesitated to go up the steps toward that imposing front door.

“You said we’re supposed to be in the guest cottage.” I grabbed Daniel’s arm and held him back. “Shouldn’t we try to locate it?”

“Amid acres of woodland?” Daniel replied and I could hear the tension rising in his voice. “We’re likely to blunder over the cliffs.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

“This,” Daniel said. He went up the steps, lifted the knocker, and hammered insistently. We heard the sound echoing inside but there was no response.

“Now what?” I said. A thought struck me. “Are you sure we’ve got the right place? It wouldn’t be hard to take a wrong turning in all this darkness.”

“Yes I’m sure,” Daniel said, not actually sounding very sure. He stepped back from the door and peered up at the house. “Yes I’m sure this is it. I’ve seen pictures. I’ll try knocking again.”

“Someone must be with that child in the turret,” I said. “I suppose a nursemaid could have gone to sleep by now and the child wouldn’t realize that we wanted to get in.”

“We can’t stand on the doorstep all night,” Daniel said irritably. “Really, this is too bad of old Hannan.”

“Maybe he forgot to inform the servants,” I said.

Daniel started prowling around again, glancing first up at the house and then out into the blackness of the night. If anything it was raining even harder now—a solid sheet of rain bounced off the gravel of the driveway. Thunder still grumbled overhead.

“There has to be a coach house somewhere,” he said. “A place for their automobiles.”

He disappeared into the storm and then called to me. “Over here! There is a coach house. Let me see if…” I heard him rattle a door. “The stable appears to be open. Do you mind spending the night with the horses?”

“Anything is better than this.” I ran through the curtain of rain toward him, although I don’t know why I bothered to run as there was no way I could be any wetter. My skirts, now heavy and sodden, wrapped themselves around my legs as I tried to move and I almost stumbled. Daniel reached out to take my hand and then ushered me inside. There was a faint smell of horse but the stalls proved to be empty. No horses in residence. Rain drummed on the roof and thunder still growled, but farther off now.

“Ah, this will do nicely,” Daniel said. “Clean straw. What more do you want?”

“A hot meal, a bath, and a fire would be lovely,” I muttered through chattering teeth. “But anything is better than being out in that rain. I don’t ever remember feeling so drenched.”

It was pitch dark in the stable and we felt our way forward until we came to an empty stall lined with straw.

“You better take off those wet clothes,” Daniel said. “Let’s hope some of the things in our valises have remained dry.”

My hands were freezing. I fumbled with the clasp of my valise and found what I hoped was my nightgown. It felt damp, but that might just have been my cold wet hands. I was now shivering uncontrollably and felt near to tears. I swallowed them back. There was no way I wanted to expose a weakness to my new husband. I tried to undo the ribbon that tied my cape at my chin. My fingers refused to obey me and the knot had become sodden and immovable.

“It’s no use. I can’t do it!” I shouted angrily.

“Do what?” Daniel asked gently.

“Take off my cape. I can’t undo the knot.” I must have sounded like a small helpless child because he put his arms around me.

“It’s all right,” he said. “We’re safe now. And you have a husband who is happy to undress you.” I felt his hands at my throat. “Blasted knot,” he muttered after a struggle. “I’ll just have to break the ribbon.”

I started to protest. It was my new traveling outfit, part of my trousseau. But then I didn’t want to wear it all night either. Daniel yanked and pulled and I heard fabric ripping as the sodden garment fell away from me. “That’s taken care of that,” he said, throwing it to one side. “Turn around.” Then his hands moved from my cape to my dress, patiently undoing all the hooks. “Thank God you don’t wear a corset,” he muttered. “I think that would be beyond me.” His hands lingered on my body. “My God, you’re cold,” he said. “Get something dry on you quickly.”

“My nightdress is completely damp,” I said. “I don’t know what else to wear.”

I heard the click of his valise. “Here, take my nightshirt.”

“Then what will you wear?”

“I’ll be all right. I expect my underwear is dry enough.”

I heard him struggling to take off his own clothes, then he said, “Come here,” and enveloped me in his arms.

“You’re as cold as I am,” I said, feeling his half-naked body pressing against me.

“We’ll soon get warm now.” He pulled me down with him into the straw. I lay against him, resting my head against his chest.

“Now this reminds me of another time,” he added. “Do you remember?”

“Of course.” It had been long ago now. A similar storm, a lonely barn, and the first and only time I had let down my guard enough to give in to Daniel’s lovemaking. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since that night. Then I wasn’t sure he would ever marry me. And now I was his wife, lying in his arms quite legally. I snuggled up to him, feeling better already.

“I’m glad this isn’t our actual honeymoon,” Daniel muttered. “It would be one hell of a way to start our marriage, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I whispered. “Rather romantic, if you ask me.”

“If you don’t mind this dratted straw scratching and tickling and the wind whistling through the cracks in the door.”

“I know a way to take your mind off it.” I nuzzled against him. Daniel needed no second invitation.

*   *   *

I awoke to a shaft of bright sunlight falling on me and to a vast figure standing over me.

“Holy mother of God!” a voice muttered. “What have we here? Gypsies? How in heaven’s name did you get onto the property? Go on, be off with you immediately before I call the police.”

Daniel sat up, eyeing the figure blearily. “Good morning,” he said. “I take it that you’re the housekeeper, and I also take it that you’re either deaf or a sound sleeper.”

“What for the love of Mike are you blathering about?” She spoke with a thick Irish brogue, sounding almost like a vaudeville stage Irishwoman.

I was now awake enough to notice that she was a large elderly woman dressed entirely in black, and she was standing with her hands on her hips.

“Only that we stood hammering at the front door last night and nobody let us in,” Daniel said. “So we had to resort to sleeping in the barn.”

The woman removed her hands from her hips and raised them in a gesture of horror. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Don’t tell me that you’re Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan.”

“We are indeed,” Daniel said. “So you were expecting us. And yet the gate was locked and nobody answered our knocking on the front door. A fine welcome if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“God forgive me,” she said. “I waited for you until past nine o’clock and then I didn’t think you would possibly come so late and in that storm. I’d been told to expect you early afternoon, so I assumed you’d been delayed and would be arriving today. So I locked up as usual. I don’t sleep on the premises while the family is not here, you see. I go back to my own little house in town. And the master is very particular about everything being locked safely for the night.”

I sat up too, aware that I probably looked somewhat immodest with my legs showing below Daniel’s nightshirt. “So you’re telling us that that there was nobody in the house last night? But I saw a face at the window—a child’s face.”

“A child’s face?” I saw the color drain from her cheeks as she gave me a momentary look of alarm. Then she forced a smile. “It must have been a trick of the light, my dear. There’s nobody in the house. Certainly no children. But where are my manners?” She became spritely again. “I’m Mrs. McCreedy. And it’s a terrible welcome to Connemara you’ve had. Let me take you to your quarters and I’ll cook you a nice hot breakfast.”

She stepped outside discreetly while we tried to locate enough items of dry clothing to dress ourselves, then we followed her past the looming rough stone walls of the castle and down a path to a small cottage nestled among trees. What’s more it looked like my definition of a cottage this time, whitewashed and thatch roofed, just as one would find in Ireland. The trees that surrounded it were already turning gold and red so that it made a charming picture with the blue ocean beyond. I gave a little gasp of pleasure.

“Reminds you of home does it?” the woman said. “I know. I get quite homesick myself every time I look at it. I’m from Galway myself, and I can hear that you’re from that part of Ireland too.”

“A village near Westport,” I agreed. “And Alderman Hannan must be from the region himself if he called his home Connemara.”

“He is indeed,” the woman said. “The family fled from Galway in the great potato famine. He came to America as a young child. Both his parents died when he was twelve years old and he’s been supporting the family ever since. I wouldn’t say he’d done badly for someone who came with nothing, would you?”

I turned back to look at the castle. In daylight it was not quite so foreboding, but it had been definitely built to look like an old bastion, such as one would see in the Irish countryside. The walls were of rough-hewn stone, partly covered with ivy and Virginia creeper that had turned to a delightful shade of red. The windows were arched and recessed, there were crenellated battlements along the roof and in the corner a turret rose—with a window in it. A window at which I could swear a child’s face had appeared last night. All around it were perfectly manicured grounds, with stands of trees, flower beds, a tennis court, an ornamental fountain. The whole scene was framed by blue ocean beyond.

“The grounds are beautiful,” I said. “I’m not sure it would be my choice of house.”

“Nor mine,” she said. “I’d go for comfort myself and the way the wind whistles down those high hallways in winter makes the place impossible to heat.”

Daniel, I noticed, had not been contributing to the conversation. I suspected he did not like being caught out in such a disheveled state. His pride and dignity had been hurt and they were important to him. The housekeeper seemed to realize at the same moment that she and I had been ignoring Daniel. She turned back to him. “So you’re a friend of the alderman are you, sir?”

“Not a friend but the alderman and I are acquainted. And when he heard that our honeymoon had been ruined, he was kind enough to offer me the use of this place.”

The woman’s face broke into a smile. “Oh, yes, he’s a kind and generous man. As softhearted as they come when he wants to be, although I hear that in business he’s as ruthless as a tiger.”

“Is he now?” Daniel said.

We had reached the front door of the cottage.

“And it is your honeymoon too. Fancy that,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “Well, that nasty old storm has passed now. You can set about enjoying yourselves.” She opened the front door and stood aside for us to step into the hallway. The house certainly didn’t smell like a cottage from home. For one thing there was no lingering smell of peat fire, nor that combination of damp and furniture polish that one equates with old houses. This was a new house made to look old, which was confirmed when Mrs. McCreedy said, “You’ll no doubt be wanting a bath. There’s a lovely bathroom upstairs with the bedrooms. And plenty of hot water too.”

We needed no second urging. Half an hour later we came downstairs looking civilized to find eggs and bacon waiting for us. The horrors of the night before were forgotten.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, wiping down her apron and giving a satisfied nod. “The larder should be well stocked, but if you need anything I’ll be up at the big house. They’ll all be coming this weekend so there’s plenty to be done with bedrooms to be aired out and supplies to be brought.”

“‘They’ll all be coming’?” I asked. “The alderman’s family, you mean?”

“The whole lot of them.” Mrs. McCreedy gave us a look of complete vexation.

I looked enquiringly at Daniel. “I thought you said the cottages were not used at this time of year.”

“Nor are they normally,” Mrs. McCreedy answered for him. “Everything is usually shut up for the winter by now, but I gather Mr. Archie is taking part in some kind of boat race this weekend and the alderman has invited the whole family down. But it’s not mine to reason why. He gives the orders and I carry them out. And I’d best get moving if I’m to have everything ready by the time they get here.”

“Are there no other servants?” Daniel asked. “It’s a big establishment for only one woman to run.”

She nodded agreement. “Of course they bring their personal maids and valets, and the alderman always brings his personal chef. Very particular about his food, the alderman is.”

“I could come up and give you a hand if you like,” I suggested.

She looked horrified. “A friend of the alderman giving me a hand? That would never do. But you’ve married yourself a warm and generous young lady, sir.”

“Definitely.” Daniel smiled at me. “Always likes to keep herself busy, this one.” I took in his double meaning. We had debated for months about my abandoning my career when we married. I’d had to agree to give up my detective business—understanding, somewhat grudgingly, that it might compromise Daniel’s position in the New York Police Department. But I’d also made it quite clear that I was not prepared to sit idly and devote myself to housewifely pursuits.

“We do bring in local girls to help out with the cleaning when the family is here,” Mrs. McCreedy paused in the doorway. “Do you need me to arrange for one of them to do your cooking and cleaning while you’re here?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure we can manage,” I said. “I’m used to doing my own cooking.”