The Wedding Journey Page 3

  Maeve glanced to find Nora’s face somber, her expression tense, as though concerned for their future. Between them, Bridget’s soft weeping caught her notice. Always sentimental, a friend to all, Bridget would miss their friends and the people of their village. Her love for their community had been tainted by that despicable Daniel McGrath leaving her brokenhearted at the altar, however. It gave Maeve a sense of satisfaction to know that Bridget was leaving him behind once and for all.

  Maeve put her arm around Bridget’s shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. “’Tis a brand new start, ma milis.”

  Bridget dabbed her eyes and nose with her plain white cotton handkerchief and gave her a tremulous smile. “I’m glad to start over. But I shall miss what used to be. Before Mother and Da died. Before the famine. But I know we have much to look forward to. In America we’ll solve the mystery of that letter and learn who Laird is. We’ll live in the lovely house by the ocean and plant flowers.”

  Nora moved to stand on the other side of Bridget and wrapped her arm around her waist. “Don’t raise your hopes too high, just in case.”

  “At the very least we can learn who that Laird fellow was to Mother,” Maeve said.

  She turned from the diminishing view of their homeland as they cleared the breakers and left the lighthouse behind to face her sisters. “We’re headed for the land of opportunity.”

  She didn’t know what the trip held in store, but she liked the way it had begun. The doctor had treated her—and her sisters—with dignity and respect. Bridget’s teasing comments flashed through her mind, but she quickly set them aside. Yes, Dr. Gallagher did possess startling good looks, no doubt about that. Looking at him nearly took her breath away. She would have to work on composure.

  The last person he would ever find of interest was a simple farm girl away from home for the first time. Ignoring her own attraction meant her new job was going to be challenging in more ways than one.

  Chapter Three

  “Come in,” Flynn called at a rap on the closed door.

  “Couldn’t find any of the boy’s kin around Minot’s Ledge,” a bearded sailor told him, setting down the last of the supply crates. “Inquired along the wharf, and learned he was beggin’ handouts from the passengers waitin’ in line. Villagers from nearby say he’s an orphan.”

  “That goes along with his story. In which case I doubt anyone’s looking for him,” Flynn replied. “Soon as he’s on his feet, he can be my errand boy.”

  “Looks mighty scrawny,” the man noted with skepticism. “Don’t know how much work you’ll be gettin’ out of ’im.”

  “You’d be scrawny, too, if you’d never had a mother to put meals on the table.”

  “I’m supposin’ you’re right about that, doc. My dear ma, God rest her soul, set out a feast every noon and evenin’. Miss her cooking somethin’ fierce, I do.”

  Flynn thanked him for searching, and the man went back to his tasks.

  Before Sean awoke, Flynn washed the boy’s grimy face, hands and bony arms. For sure, the lad needed a good scrubbing, so he did the best he could. After removing his ill-fitting shoes and seeing Sean’s dirty blistered feet, he got more clean water and soap, scrubbed, then treated and bandaged both.

  It was obvious this boy had gone without proper clothing and food for some time. Bones protruded at his wrists and ankles, and his ribs stood out in sharp relief. What was wrong with the world that children starved in the streets? The signs of such clear poverty made him feel shame at the thought of his own life of wealth and privilege.

  He thought of the petite little miss he’d hired as his assistant. He was used to ladies who never mussed their elegant dresses and who always had every hair in place. They were at home in drawing rooms and shone seated at elegantly appointed dining tables.

  Maeve Murphy, on the other hand, he could picture running barefoot across a meadow or gathering flowers and wearing them in her hair. She was natural. Unaffected.

  And he had no business thinking about her. He had no room in his life for complications, not even a beautiful, obviously compassionate and capable distraction.

  Sean opened his eyes and blinked. “Am I dead?”

  “You’re not dead, laddie. You’re stitched up and in my dispensary aboard the Annie McGee. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”

  The boy’s face blanched even paler, and he raised his head off the pillow. “What of me brothers? Am I at sea all alone?”

  “I sent someone to search, but he didn’t turn up any brothers.”

  “Gavin and Emmett are surely worried by now.” Tears glistened in his eyes.

  “I suspect you were planning to board the ship without paying passage.” He raised a brow. “Am I correct?”

  Sean gave him a sheepish nod.

  “It’s also my guess that your brothers found their way aboard. That both of them were nowhere to be found on the wharf is a good indication. Did you arrange a meeting place, the three of you?”

  “Aye. On the foredeck at sundown.”

  “I shall be there on your behalf.”

  The boy’s expression turned to one of terror. “Will they be thrown overboard? I heard sharks follow the ships.”

  “No one will be throwing children overboard,” Flynn assured him. “And this isn’t one of the coffin ships of years past.”

  Flynn himself had lobbied for legislation to put an end to the overcrowded and filthy, disease-infested vessels. Now there were passenger limits and a doctor aboard each ship. He was putting in his own time to see that the plan was fulfilled.

  “Lie down and rest now. I’m going to get you something to eat so you can build up your strength.”

  “I have no way to be payin’ you for tendin’ my leg,” Sean said in a thick voice. “Or for food.”

  Flynn got a knot in his chest. It took him a moment to speak, so he busied himself rolling a clean length of bandage. “If not for my fool assistant, you wouldn’t have been injured, so the responsibility lies with me. You owe me nothing.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll keep you in me prayers, I will.”

  Flynn covered him with a blanket and at last met his brown eyes. Young as he was, those eyes had seen the worst side of life and known more misery than any child should. His mention of prayer caught Flynn off guard. Perhaps the lad had more sway with the Lord of heaven than he. He hoped so, for the boy’s sake. “You’re welcome. Now sleep.”

  * * *

  Bridget had gone off to meet with Mr. Atwater and acquaint herself with the family, so while Nora made up their bunks, Maeve headed up to locate the line for their daily allotment of food.

  The topsails snapped in the wind that had swiftly carried the Annie McGee out to the ocean. The sharp cliffs of her homeland were still visible, and the sky was vivid blue. She paused at the rail to gaze out over the water and have another look at the receding cliffs. From here they all looked the same, so spotting Castleville was hopeless.

  Was anyone she knew back home watching the ocean and seeing this ship on the horizon? She had spotted vessels many times, never dreaming she’d ever be aboard one.

  The sun’s reflection on the water nearly blinded her. She blinked and refocused on the person beside her.

  The tall woman wore a flounced dress and matching capelike jacket, with six inches of lace at her wrists. Requirements for boarding had specified no crinolines or hoops, so her layered skirts hung shapelessly and a little too long on the deck.

  Maeve’s plain brown dress was far more practical, though poverty had driven her choice, not fashion or even practicality. The woman’s dark auburn hair was parted in the middle and severely drawn back. She stood gazing at the horizon, and appeared to be a few years older than Maeve’s mother had been when she’d died.

  “I’m Maeve Murphy,” she said by way of introduction. A good many people were going to dwell in close quarters for the duration of the voyage; she might as well get to know a few of them.

  The woman turned and glanced do
wn at her, taking in her long red curls and plain dress.

  Maeve felt at a distinct disadvantage, being petite and obviously from a different social station. She resisted the urge to smooth her worn skirts with a calloused hand. They were fellow countrymen, after all, embarking on a journey together. There was no reason they couldn’t be friends.

  “This is all so exciting. I’ve never before been away from Castleville. Have you traveled aboard a ship before?”

  The woman’s chin inched up until she was literally looking down her nose at Maeve. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it over her nose as though she smelled something odiferous. “Someone of your station should not be speaking to a lady, unless first addressed. You’ve obviously had extremely poor training. Where is your mistress?” She glanced around. “Shouldn’t you be seeing to her needs instead of bothering passengers?”

  Maeve drew a blank. No words formed, and humiliation burned its way up her neck to her cheeks. She’d never been dressed down in such a rude manner, but then she’d never mingled with anyone other than the people of her village—simple people just like the Murphys. The doctor had been kind and mannerly, so this woman’s rude behavior caught her off guard. “I have no mistress. My sisters and I are taking this voyage to Massachusetts together.”

  “Then it will serve you well to learn your place. Never address a lady unless spoken to. And I certainly have no intention of speaking to you again.” The fabric of the woman’s skirts swooshed as she gathered them and marched off as though she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  Maeve stared at the two elaborately braided buns on the back of her head. The deliberate shun pierced her previously buoyant mood.

  Maeve was from a poor family. The landowners and their families lived very different lives from hers, but she’d imagined that in a situation like this, the boundaries would be less severe. Apparently there was no escaping the attitudes of those with more money than humanity.

  She gave the ocean one last look and made her way across the deck until she found the line for food supplies and stood at the end. The man ahead of her was dressed in a black suit and stylish hat. He glanced at her, but since her previous lesson still stung, she kept her silence.

  Minutes later she was joined by a woman in a pretty white-on-tan silk dress with a flounced skirt and long puffed sleeves. Surreptitiously, she admired the woman’s pretty dark hair, and the way it gleamed in the sunlight and remained gathered within its confines, but quickly turned away.

  The woman spoke from behind her. “Aren’t you the young lady who helped that boy on the wharf this morning?”

  Surprised, Maeve turned to face her. “Yes, ma’am. The lad’s name is Sean McCorkle.”

  “That was very quick thinking, indeed. I dare say the lad might not have survived had you not gone to his aid when you did.”

  Pleased by the woman’s friendly manner, she warmed to her immediately. “Dr. Gallagher is a fine surgeon,” she replied. “Sean should be on his feet in no time.”

  “Have you chosen a spot on deck for your evening fire yet?” the woman asked.

  “Not yet.” A brisk gust of wind caught Maeve’s hair, and self-consciously, she quickly fashioned it into an unruly fat braid and tucked the end under her collar. She would find a bit of twine when she got back to the cabin.

  “I’m Aideen Nolan. I’m traveling with my aunt, Mrs. Kennedy.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, ’tis. I’m Maeve Murphy. My sisters and I are headed for Boston—well, a small village nearby called Faith Glen, actually.”

  The woman glanced at the nearby passengers. “I suggest we reserve our spaces next to one another. That way we’ll be assured that at least one of our nearby supper companions will be familiar. Unless, of course, you have other plans. I’m probably being presumptuous.”

  Maeve gave her a bright smile. “No, we hadn’t made plans yet. I’d very much like to find a place near yours. I’m confident my sisters will be glad for friendly company, as well. I’ve already had an encounter with a rather unpleasant woman who put me in my place for speaking to her.” Maeve glanced down at her clothing. “Thought I was someone’s maid, she did.”

  “I’d wager that was Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” Aideen said. She leaned near and spoke quietly. “The gentleman just ahead is her manservant. I know her from the ladies’ league in Galway.” She took a brochure from the deep pocket of her skirt and flipped it open. “This list of preparations and rules for the journey instructs us to select the areas where we will be cooking our meals for the next several weeks.” She glanced at Maeve. “Are you familiar with cooking procedures?”

  “Indeed I am,” Maeve replied with a sigh. “My sisters and I have been preparing meals since we were quite young.”

  “I shall be forever indebted if you will show me how.”

  Maeve had suspected from her dress and speech that Aideen was well-to-do, and her admission confirmed that thinking. “I’d be happy to tutor you, but you won’t be indebted. Communities help one another, and we’re going to be a community while we’re aboard. Like a village on the sea, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, I definitely would. My aunt and I had rooms in my grandparents’ home until recently, and they always had a cook. Neither of us have ever attempted our own meals.”

  “My dear da passed on, only twelve days ago, God rest his soul. My mother’s been gone ten years now. We’ve had a lot of experience at creating meals from nearly nothing.”

  “Next!”

  Maeve turned to accept a burlap sack and a piece of chalk from a sailor whose face was coated with smoke and soot. “Daily allotment for three,” he said. “Find yer cook spot and mark it with yer name or yer mark. Respect yer neighbor’s planks and douse yer fire promptly at eight. Next!”

  Maeve accepted a surprisingly heavy bag and a square of chalk, while the man recited the same instructions to Aideen. Together the two women headed away from the line in search of the fireplaces.

  Along both sides of the foredeck, sections had been marked off with jagged stripes of black paint. For the most part, the areas were all the same size. The hands had obviously counted rows of deck planks in making the partitions. Each rectangular section held a curved brick cooking pit, partially open to one side, with three iron bars on the other to confine the coals.

  They stood planning their strategy, hoping to predict which spot would be most protected from wind and weather. Praying they had it right, Maeve and Aideen wrote their surnames with chalk in side-by-side plots.

  Setting down the bag, Maeve looked inside and found half a pound of rice, a small slab of bacon, flour and a tin of peaches. “My sister is a better cook than I am, but these are basic foods and there’s not a lot we can do with them. We should take them to our cabins now, and we’ll prepare them side by side this evening.”

  “I look forward to meeting your sisters.” Aideen gave her a grateful smile. “I hope we’ll become fast friends.”

  Maeve returned below deck, where she stored the food in their locker and gave Nora the key to wear around her neck. “I met a lovely young woman, and we saved our cooking areas beside each other. You will meet her and her aunt this evening. She was delightful, she was. From a rich family, I’m certain, but she struck up a conversation and wasn’t the least pretentious.

  “Wait until you see her hair, Nora. It’s dark and sleek. I didn’t see it without her bonnet, of course, but I could imagine it’s nothing like these wild ringlets.”

  “She sounds very nice, indeed.” Nora had finished making their beds in her efficient and tidy manner, with corners tucked and pillows fluffed. “On the doctor’s recommendation, I met with Mr. Mathers, and he assured me of a job with his staff. The galley is surprisingly roomy and clean. I’ll learn my duties tomorrow,” she said. “The others are men, but he said there would be another woman besides myself. The chores don’t look like anything I haven’t done a thousand times.”

  “I hope he gives you a chance to show what you can d
o and doesn’t have you washing all the dishes. The crew would miss out if you couldn’t cook for them.”

  “You’re a sweet lass. Biased, of course.”

  “Dr. Gallagher is expecting me back in the dispensary to help organize supplies.” Maeve located a faded apron in her bag and slipped it on over her dress. “This will have to suffice for a uniform.”

  “It’s clean and adequate,” Nora assured her. She rested her hand atop Maeve’s as her sister reached into her bag for her comb. “Thank you for accepting the doctor’s offer, Maeve. I know you worry you’re unqualified for a job with so many responsibilities, but you always did your best to help Mother and Da and our neighbors in Castleville. The local women declared you the most knowledgeable and dependable midwife in all of County Beary. I’ve no doubt you will be a benefit to the doctor.”

  “I’m hoping to learn from him.” Maeve braided her hair as neatly as she could manage and secured it with a length of twine. For the first time she wondered what other passengers like that Fitzwilliam woman would think of her helping the doctor. Maybe they would simply see her as his servant, and find that acceptable. Was that how the doctor saw her? She surely didn’t look forward to any more encounters like the one with Mrs. Fitzwilliam.

  “The three of us will have an income…all because you so bravely went to that boy’s aid.”

  “Helping him was simply instinctive,” she replied. “Not heroic.”

  “Tell that to the lad who is alive, thanks to you.”

  “God provided the way for us,” Maeve told her eldest sister. “He used what could have been a tragedy to find us jobs and bring the boy onboard. It will be interesting to see what develops next with Sean.”

  “Only you would find the silver lining in an otherwise cloudy situation.”

  Maeve stretched to her fullest height to give Nora a peck on the cheek. Nora leaned forward to accept the kiss. She took Maeve’s face between her hands and looked into her eyes. “Mother always said you were like a bright star on a dark night. Even as a wee bairn, you saw everything differently than the rest of us. ’Tis a quality I admire.”