“That hasn’t changed,” Emma said with a smile.
“I’ve learned that, on Tuesdays, the musicians in town gather here at the inn to play music,” Sophie said. “We can come sometimes to hear them.”
“Oh, I would like that,” Mrs. Archer said.
Emma sat on the edge of her grandmother’s bed. “And on Saturdays are thecéilís. We never miss those.”
“What is acéilí?” Sophie asked, pouring a glass of water for Mrs. Archer.
“It’s a party like they used to have in Ireland, with music, dancing, food, stories. We’ve been going for years.”
“Sounds delightful,” Mrs. Archer said.
“And even more delightful would be you getting some sleep,” Sophie said. She met the girl’s eye. “If you’ll pull the blanket up and over your grandmother, then we’ll be certain she’s not cold.”
Emma obeyed without hesitation.
“Dr. Jones said the room next to this one is available,” Sophie said. “If you’d like to stay in that one, Emma, you’ll be nearby if your grandmother needs you.” She would have insisted on that role herself, but she suspected the girl wanted to stay. Sophie would find a room at the inn.
They left the door to Mrs. Archer’s room a bit ajar and slipped into the next one over. Sophie’s traveling trunk was in there still. That, however, was something of a stroke of luck. She was able to provide Emma with a nightdress to wear, since she’d not brought any clothes of her own.
“It sounded like the Tuesday musicians were at the inn when you left,” Emma said.
“They were and playing the loveliest music.”
“You should hear the music they play when all of the instruments are together. All the town comes to thecéilís, and not exclusively for the food.”
“The entire town?” That sounded delightful.
“Well, almost. Sometimes people don’t feel well or are working on other things and miss a week. And, then there’s Finbarr. He’s never there. He’s never anywhere anymore.”
“Who is Finbarr?”
“He used to work for Papa. He was our friend when we were little. But he has his own house now and no one sees him anymore. Not even his family.”
“Is he shy?”
Emma shook her head. “He just likes to be alone.”
This town had weekly parties, talented musicians, a pub-like inn, a wealthy East Coast businessman, a shockingly intriguing doctor, and, apparently, a resident hermit.
Hope Springs was proving more interesting by the moment.
Burke ought to have been working on the needed additions to his infirmary—furniture and shelving and such—but he had a patient convalescing in one of the rooms and her family members trickling in and out. Disturbing her rest was not advisable.
So, he was on the other side of the dividing wall, helping Patrick O’Connor make similar improvements at the inn. Money was hardly abundant in Hope Springs, and this dream of Eliza and Patrick’s was taking time to be realized.
Burke sanded the corners of a chair Patrick had finished piecing together that morning. His friend and neighbor was already building another. From Patrick, Burke had learned to make furniture, a skill he’d not had before. And in return, Burke had taught him more about caring for ailing animals. As the inn was charged with the keeping and care of a team of the stage company’s horses, knowing how to keep the animals in good health was crucial.
Beyond being useful to one another, though, they’d grown to be good friends. Burke hadn’t had that in a long time. He kept in touch with Alexander but hadn’t seen him in years. From all Burke had learned of Patrick’s history before returning to his family in Hope Springs, that man had wanted for friends as well.
“I thought Joseph was going to topple right over when he realized his ma was here all the way from Baltimore,” Patrick said with a laugh. “And he seemed even more shocked that her companion had arrived whole.”
“That still strikes me as odd. Miss Kingston seems reliable and calm headed. But that does not seem to be Joseph’s impression of her.”
“Have you sorted out her connection to all of them?”
Burke shook his head. A great deal about Miss Kingston remained a mystery.
