Maura’s posture grew stiff and alert. “Are you ill?” She looked to Lydia on Eliza’s hip. “Or is she?”
Eliza shook her head and held out her other hand. “I burned myself.”
“Oh, heavens.” Maura motioned them inside. “Mary, sweetie, run out to the soddie and see if Doc is there. Miss Eliza’s burned her hand.”
A young girl, one of Ian and Biddy’s, if Eliza remembered correctly, hurried out the door.
All the O’Connor women were gathered there, along with Mrs. Callaghan and Katie Archer.
Eliza blanched at the sight of her employer. “Emma said she’d look after Ivy,” she told her. “I couldn’t think what else to do.”
Katie waved that off. “The girls’ll be grand, and Sean’s here with me.” She crossed to Eliza. “How severe’s your burn?”
She held her hand up, cringing at how much worse it looked just since leaving Archers’. It was nearly as red as blood. Blisters had formed all over her fingers and hand. And, mercy, it hurt terribly.
Mrs. O’Connor joined them. “How’d it happen?”
“Spilled boiling water.”
Mrs. O’Connor set a comforting arm across her shoulder. Maura took Lydia, and Katie pumped water onto a rag.
“Doc’ll know what to do.” Mrs. O’Connor said. “He’s been a gift from heaven, he has.”
Katie gently wrapped Eliza’s hand in the cool, damp cloth. She was being very kind and understanding. Still, Eliza worried.
“I’ll return to the house just as soon as I’ve seen the doctor. And I’ll do my utmost to get dinner on the table on schedule.”
“Don’t you fret over your work.” Katie shook her head. “We’re not heartless people.”
Eliza had only worked as a domestic servant in one other house. Missing half a day’s work, even on account of an injury sustained while working there, would have seen her dismissed. Sleeping late would’ve cost her the position as well. Not working as fast as they demanded, too. Or ruffling the housekeeper’s feathers. Falling in love with her employers’ nephew. Somehow, she couldn’t see the Archers letting her go on account of that last, unforgiveable offense. Of course, neither Katie nor Joseph had family in Hope Springs of an age to make that a possibility.
Mrs. O’Connor insisted Eliza sit in a rocker near the group. She slipped a blanket over her legs and lap. “Rest your bones,” she said. “The doctor’ll see you right and tight as soon as he’s fetched here.”
Eliza laid her rag-wrapped hand on her lap, grateful for the cooling effect and the bit of relief it offered. Lydia was perfectly content with Maura. If not for the pain pulsating in her hand, Eliza would have been in the perfect position to take a much-needed nap. As it was, she closed her eyes and tried to at least rest.
The O’Connor women began their chatting again.
“The harvest looks to be a good one,” one of the ladies said. “Puts m’mind at ease. One less thing to worry over.”
“Aidan’s already talking about making the drive to market,” Maura said. “’Twas a grand adventure for him last year.”
“That’s owin’ to Ryan, I’d wager.” Mrs. O’Connor’s voice was somehow more recognizable than the others, though Eliza didn’t know her any better. “Those two took to each other quickly, they did.”
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am that Ryan loves my boy like that,” Maura said. “He’s been without a father so long. Patrick filled that role for him during his brief months with us in New York before he disappeared. ’Tis one of many reasons I wish he’d stayed.”
When they’d been neighbors in the Widows’ Tower, Eliza had heard Maura speak of her brother-in-law who’d fought in the war and lived with them briefly, but she hadn’t ever thought she’d meet the man. Now that she had, she could hardly imagine not knowing him.
“Was he as unhappy living with you as he seems to be among us now?” That was one of the O’Connor sisters, though Eliza didn’t know which.
“He was distant at first,” Maura said. “He’d a weight on his mind and soul. I always assumed it was the lingering burden of war. But he lightened in time. He was more the Patrick we’d once known, though never quite the same. Then, toward the end, he cut himself off again, more drastically even than at first. There was no reachin’ him. He didn’t go out with friends or do anything other than work, eat, and sleep. He was never unkind to Aidan or me, but it was clear he was no longer comfortable living with us.”
“Did he tell you why he left?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.
“All he said was that he had an opportunity and meant to seize it. I assumed he had a job. But as the years passed, and he kept moving farther and farther away, writing less and less often, I began to suspect what he’d seized was an opportunity to run away.”
A heavy silence descended over the group. Eliza didn’t open her eyes. She still felt like an intruder, but somehow her guilt abated when she wasn’t actually looking at them.
“He and Ian had another row. Patrick said rather sharply that Ian ought to have listened to him when we left New York, but that no one did.” Confusion filled Biddy’s tone. “Ian and I haven’t been able to sort that out.”
