“Their arrival put Miss Emma out of a job, though.” Miss Kingston looked to Burke. “I suspect she was not overly pleased to be relieved of duty.”
Burke nodded his agreement. “Losing the ability to help as much as she has since last night is likely a disappointment to her.”
Miss Kingston took up a bit of sanding paper and stood next to him. “What do you need me to do?”
“You truly mean to help us make furniture?” Burke had known a few socially prominent people over the years—those he’d treated in Chicago, those who’d made a point of coming to the orphanage to see if their charitable donations had been put to good use, those who’d turned up their noses at him when he’d attempted to find his place after medical school—and they’d never shown the slightest inclination toward physical labor.
“Emma is not the only one who is disappointed to not have a useful occupation.”
Interesting. She might have looked more polished than she had upon her arrival in Hope Springs the day before, but there remained an unpredictable liveliness about her. She kept still but gave every indication of preferring to be on the move.
“The sanding’s meant to take off any jagged bits or sharp edges,” Patrick said. “No real trick to it.”
“Perfect.” Miss Kingston sat herself on the other side of the chair Burke was working on and began mimicking his efforts. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing this wrong?”
“If you’d like,” Burke said, keeping his focus on his work.
“When do you suppose Mrs. Archer will be well enough to relocate to Joseph’s home?” she asked as she sanded the edge of the chair.
“Likely tomorrow. She’s doing quite a lot better today.”
“Emma said there is a party of some kind on Saturday. Will Mrs. Archer be well enough to attend?”
“That’s our weeklycéilí,” Patrick said. “It’ll be out on my da and ma’s land, since the weather promises to be good.”
Miss Kingston paused her sanding, her expression turning contemplative. “Does it grow terribly cold at night? She might not be well enough to endure a chill.”
That would likely not be Mrs. Archer’s biggest objection to the weekly gathering. Or Miss Kingston’s. “Thecéilísaren’t much like the soirees you’ll have attended in Baltimore.”
She looked over at him. “I can’t imagine they’re anything sordid, or else Emma wouldn’t have spoken of them with familiarity and approval.”
Burke shook his head and could see that Patrick did the same.
“’Tis families gathered for music and dancing and merrymaking,” Patrick said. “Nothing unseemly in it.”
“It’s not very staid and proper, though, either,” Burke said.
She did hesitate at that. He wouldn’t want Miss Kingston and Mrs. Archer to arrive at thecéilíand feel uncomfortable or make the town, who loved their Saturday gatherings, feel self-conscious. The warning had been well worth giving. Regardless of what the women chose, they’d not be caught unaware.
Miss Kingston chatted, mostly with Patrick, as they all worked. She was an easy conversationalist. That would make her time in Hope Springs more pleasant.
Aidan O’Connor, one of Patrick’s nephews, stepped inside the inn. He was sixteen and done with his schooling. Most days he helped in the fields at home, but now and then he looked in on his aunt and uncle at the inn.
“What brings you ’round, Aidan?” Patrick asked.
“I heard the doctor had a patient.” Aidan, like many of the children born here to Irish families, carried hardly a hint of their ancestral homeland in his manner of speaking. “I thought maybe he could use some help around the place.”
“Emma Archer’s been here looking out for the patient,” Burke said. “She’s her grandmother, in fact.”
“Oh.” Aidan shifted about a bit awkwardly. “Emma’ll do a good job.”
“Yes. I have every confidence in her.”
Patrick eyed his nephew with something of a grin. “Could it be you heard Miss Emma was here and thought you might snatch a bit of her company?”
Aidan tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and eyed his uncle with a bit of annoyance. “Ain’t like that at all.”
“Atall?” Patrick sounded on the verge of laughter.
