Chapter Thirty-six

D ermot’s first set of back-to-back houses was nearly complete. He’d wager they’d be ready for tenants in a week or two. The floors were laid. The windows were in. The stairs were finished and the banisters placed. He was waiting on a few of the final details: fireplace grates and iron handrails for the front steps. In the meantime, his crews were finishing the garden beds so the families living there would have a small place for their kitchen herbs and such.

He was proud of how it had turned out, especially considering the unlikeliness of being given such an opportunity again. A brick mason could always find work, especially in a town growing as quickly as Leeds and neighboring Bradford. He wasn’t worried about starving for want of wages, but he’d not be head of his own crew nor overseeing a project on the scope of the one he’d been entrusted with in Smeatley. Further, he’d be back to being a nameless Irishman “taking jobs away from the English.” He’d not enjoy that. But he’d be near Evangeline, and for that, he’d endure the indignities all over again.

Hugo Palmer came running toward him. “Mr. Farr’s ambling up t’ ginnel!”

Mr. Farr was in the alleyway? His arrival was unexpected, but Dermot was more than prepared to meet him. He was proud of the work he’d done and knew Mr. Farr would be impressed.

The man himself stepped out of the alleyway in the next moment. His discerning eye studied everything. Dermot kept to his position and waited, letting the work speak for itself.

“I walked through the first house.” Mr. Farr spoke as he loomed over the men laying the brick for the planters. “You completed it within budget?”

“Well within.”

Mr. Farr nodded. “You’re also well within the schedule you proposed.”

“You’re welcome.”

For that cheeky remark he received something resembling a smile, though it quickly dissolved into a ponderous expression. “The mill needs more workers. Between your houses and the changes I’m requiring to be made at the factory, we’ll have no trouble filling all the positions we have.”

Dermot was glad to hear the complaints lodged against the mill had been heard and taken into consideration. Though most of the town had never warmed to him, he cared enough for those he’d grown attached to for their happiness to matter to him. “Have you heard that your granddaughter is losing her position as teacher?”

Mr. Farr nodded and, to his credit, seemed to genuinely regret the situation. “I did attempt to convince Mr. Garvey otherwise, but he’s not a man who can be reasoned with once his pride is on the line.”

“An interesting choice to oversee the education of children.”

“He wouldn’t have been my pick.”

Dermot motioned him inside the house nearest them; he’d rather his men not hear the remainder of the conversation.

Mr. Farr eyed the narrow window in the entryway as they stepped past, no doubt checking the workmanship. “Has Evangeline happened to mention what she means to do next?”

“What choice does she have? Her entire life’s being taken away.” He waited for Mr. Farr to look at him again. “She’s resigned herself to what little choice she has over her future.”

He had Mr. Farr’s full attention. “Resigning herself? Does she not want to come to Leeds?”

How could he possibly lack even a basic understanding of his own granddaughter’s character? “She cares about this town’s children. She’s devoted herself to them. And she’s made a home here for herself and her sister. It’s all being taken away, just as it was all those months ago.”

“When her parents and brothers died,” Mr. Farr said.

“When, after enduring such loss, her remaining family turned their backs on her.”

Mr. Farr folded his arms over his chest. His gaze narrowed.

Dermot had his toe in the icy water; he might as well jump all the way in. “She was brought to this unknown place and told she had no family, no connections, no one she could turn to with questions or concerns to alleviate her loneliness. Her wee sister was snatched away from her without so much as a word of farewell, the only connection between them for months being the letters she received from Miss Lucy begging and pleading to be spared the misery she was enduring at the school where she’d been sent. Miss Blake was told to be independent, to prove herself capable and able to see to her own concerns and future. She’s done precisely that, with not a soul in her family giving her the least help. Her aunt, in fact, has been cruel, and her uncle has done little to alleviate that cruelty.”

Mr. Farr acknowledged the truth with a sigh. “There is history between them that Evangeline does not understand.”

“She deserves to know,” Dermot insisted. “Whatever is causing the misery, she’s the one being made to suffer for it.”

“She has suffered a great deal,” Mr. Farr acknowledged.

“And she continues to,” Dermot said. “She’s being told she must choose the future others have decided for her and give up the very independence she’d been instructed to develop. So, aye. I said ‘resigned’ and I meant it.”

“You’re quite her fierce defender.” ’Twasn’t an observation offered with even the slightest degree of ridicule. Rather, Mr. Farr seemed impressed.

“She hardly needs me to be,” Dermot said. “But I’ll speak in her defense anytime ’tis called for.”

“Even to one with power over the work you do here?”

“Even to you, Mr. Farr.”

His sharp gaze narrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because she holds my heart in her hands. She is all the world to me, and though you may hold sway over one future stretched out before me, any future that doesn’t include her isn’t one worth groveling for.”

Mr. Farr watched him, amazement on his face.

“She’s being forced to Leeds,” Dermot said, “so I’m going there as well.”

“What of your back-to-backs?” Mr. Farr asked.

“These’ll be finished before I go. I’ll not leave m’ word unfulfilled.”

Mr. Farr shook his head. “I had come here intending to ask how many more you could build and how quickly. I’m prepared to make you a very generous offer, to strike a bargain that would see you in fine fettle for years to come.”

Dermot folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll go where she is, no matter the cost.”

“You love her,” Mr. Farr said.

“More than anything else in all the world, certainly more than these houses.”

The man looked around the entryway, his gaze lingering on the doorway to the parlor and the stairs leading upward. “You truly did good work here, McCormick. It’d be a shame to lose your guiding hand.”

“I know what’s most important to me.”

Mr. Farr gave a single twitch of his head, no more than half a shake. “You’ve given me a mind full to think about.”

“And I’ve a grand lot o’ work to do,” Dermot said. “I’ll get back to it, if you’ve no objections.”

“Will you join us for supper tonight at the Bartons’ home?”

The invitation could not possibly have caught Dermot more unsuspecting. “Me?”

Mr. Farr chuckled. “I would have been just as shocked by such an invitation at your age. I had hardly two ha’pennies to rub together and no claims to importance in the eyes of those who felt themselves above me.” He slapped a hand on Dermot’s shoulder. “I know a man of worth when I see him.”

“And that’d be me?”

Mr. Farr nodded firmly. “Will we see you tonight?”

“If I’m permitted to bring m’ boy. He’ll not give anyone trouble.”

“Of course.”

’Twas Dermot’s turn to nod.

“Seven o’clock,” Mr. Farr said.

His shock remained for long minutes after Mr. Farr left. Dermot was to take supper with a fine family in a house far grander than any he’d supped in before, and he was to do so while biting back his true opinion of the man and woman who lived there.

This’ll be an odd sort of night, I’m full sure of it.

Dermot and Ronan stood at the edge of Hillside House’s front wall, waiting for the Blake sisters to arrive. Though Mr. Farr hadn’t said that his granddaughters would be in attendance, Dermot hadn’t the least doubt they would be.

After only a few minutes, his guess proved correct. Bundled against the cold, Evangeline and Lucy turned the corner from Market Cross. Matching smiles spread over their faces as they approached.

“Dermot.” Heavens, he loved the eager way Evangeline said his name. “What are you doing here? The two of you must be frozen solid.”

“Ronan,” he said, “walk on ahead with Miss Lucy. I’m wanting to offer our Evangeline a good evening.”

Lucy giggled. “Come on, Ronan. We’ll give these two sweethearts a bit of privacy.”

Just like her sister, Lucy knew precisely the right way to befriend Ronan. She simply moved at his side, not forcing conversation or nearness.

“Did you wait here simply to see us?” Evangeline asked. “I would have come by your house to bid you a good evening. That would have saved you the misery of this bitterly cold night.”

“Aye, but not the bitterness of our miserably cold hostess.”

After a moment, her confusion gave way to realization. “You have been invited to eat with the family tonight.”

“Your grandfather invited me.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “I haven’t offered you a proper good evening yet, my dear.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“And I’m afraid I’m too cold to do so now.”

“A shame.” She slipped backward, out of his loose embrace, and began walking toward the house.

“Wait, lass. I’m warm enough.”

But she only laughed, the sound utterly flirtatious. The smile remained on her face as the Bartons’ high-starched butler ushered them inside. The house was as suffocatingly lavish as ever. During his time working on the place, Dermot had far preferred staying outside. Still, he was an invited guest, and this was Evangeline’s family. He could endure nearly anything for her sake.

Mrs. Barton stood in the parlor, her face lit by a dozen points of light from the chandelier above her head. Her hand rested lightly on a gold-leafed table. She eyed them all down the length of her nose. Her expression turned to a sneer when her gaze reached Evangeline.

Dermot leaned a touch closer to Evangeline. “Courage, my dear,” he whispered.

She actually laughed. “I am not afraid of her.”

Lucy looped her arm through Evangeline’s. “Neither am I.”

“Onward, then, generals.” Dermot motioned the sisters ahead.

They stepped fully inside the parlor with all the dignity of royalty but none of the pomp. The strength he’d seen in Evangeline had begun blossoming in her sister as well. The two of them moved directly past their aunt to where their grandfather stood. He greeted them with quick embraces and a warmth Dermot had not expected to see.

Mrs. Barton seemed more frustrated than surprised. She, however, did not comment, something for which Dermot was grateful. Though he’d never before been invited to a fine meal in a fine house, he knew enough of manners and civility to know that aggravating one’s hostess was frowned upon.

Ronan kept close to Dermot’s side. To his credit, the lad kept calm and quiet, though his eyes didn’t stray far from Evangeline. She had become a source of comfort to the boy. Following her to Leeds would be best for the both of them. He only hoped it would be best for Evangeline.

“Before we step inside for our meal,” Mr. Farr said, addressing the room at large, including Mr. Barton, who stood off to the side, “I wish to address something of importance. A few things, in fact.”

Evangeline met Dermot’s eye. The silent pleading in her eyes pulled at his heartstrings. He set his hand on Ronan’s back and moved the two of them to where his sweetheart stood. She slipped her hand in his. Ronan tucked himself against Dermot’s leg. Lucy leaned against her sister’s arm. Together they faced Mr. Farr and whatever he meant to say.

“It was rightly pointed out to me earlier that some things have been left unspoken in this family that ought not to have been.”

Mrs. Barton paled. “This hardly seems appropriate—”

“So long as you mean to punish Evangeline for the difficulties of the past, it is more than appropriate,” Mr. Farr said.

Evangeline held more tightly to Dermot’s hand.

“Do you not intend to put a stop to this, Robert?” Mrs. Barton demanded of her husband.

Mr. Barton turned away. Mr. Farr shot his daughter a look of warning, then addressed Evangeline directly. “I never made any secret of the fact that I was not overly fond of your father.”

“No, you did not.”

“I had always imagined Elizabeth marrying someone with a background and temperament similar to my own. I even had someone in mind.”

Mrs. Barton’s frown turned ferocious. “I wholeheartedly object to this.”

“Hush, Bertha,” Mr. Barton said quietly.

“Elizabeth made her choice, and I confess I was disappointed,” Mr. Farr continued. “However, the man I had chosen for her remained connected to our family, continuing in the business I was building, and he did, eventually, become my son-in-law.”

“Uncle Barton?” Evangeline whispered.

Mr. Farr nodded. “That ought to have been the end of things, but it proved only the beginning.”

“Were you unhappy?” Evangeline’s question might have been directed to any one of her family members.

’Twas Mr. Farr who answered first. “All seemed fine at first.”

“What happened?” Evangeline asked.

Mrs. Barton’s harsh gaze fell squarely on her niece. “My husband was still in love with my sister, that is ‘what happened.’”

Mr. Barton faced his wife. “I would not have married you if I had still been in love with her.”

“I saw it in your eyes whenever you looked at her. You smiled in ways you never smiled at me. You were happier in her company.”

Mr. Barton shook his head, holding up his hands in frustration. “I was fond of Elizabeth; how could I not be? But you saw what you chose to see.”

“What I saw was a woman who could charm anyone. What I saw was you falling into her trap. I have spent all the years of our marriage living in her shadow.”

Mr. Barton attempted to interrupt, but Mrs. Barton pushed onward.

“Then her daughter comes to this town, fully ready to trade upon the family name to secure her own comforts, and you were more than prepared to fawn over her, just as you did her mother.” Mrs. Barton’s shoulders squared in defiance. “It is time someone in the Blake family understood her place in the world.”

Dermot glanced at Lucy, worried for the girl. But both she and Evangeline stood tall and determined.

Evangeline shook her head. “You punished me, denied me my own family—my sister—even attempted to strip me of my dignity, because your husband once courted my mother? Months of suffering that had nothing to do with me.”

“He loved her,” Mrs. Barton said. “He loved her more deeply than he ever loved me.”

Mr. Barton looked exhausted, in both mind and body. “We might have learned to love each other more deeply, Bertha, but you never permitted it. You have spent years punishing me for not having met you first, and we have both suffered for it.”

“And now you have made Evangeline and Lucy suffer as well,” Mr. Farr said. “While I wish I had raised a daughter who could change that fault in herself, I very much fear you will continue to wield your disapproval of their mother as a weapon.”

Mrs. Barton’s expression hardened. “Perhaps it is a good thing she is not remaining in Smeatley.”

“That is a topic I wish to address.” Evangeline squeezed Dermot’s fingers then stepped forward, facing her grandfather with the bearing of a warrior. “The law gives you guardianship of Lucy, but she is my sister, and I will not relinquish her without a fight, and fight you I will, if I must. The school where you sent her was a purgatory. Forcing her to live away from her only remaining family was a cruel and heartless thing to do.”

Mr. Farr was clearly surprised by her fierce words.

“I may be losing my place as a teacher, but I am fully able and willing to find another position. Further, I have more than earned the right to have access to some part of my inheritance, the smallest bit of which would allow me to secure a new home for myself and Lucy and see to our needs while I secure a new source of income. I have learned to support myself, to run a household, and to live an independent life. I have earned the right to have Lucy with me.”

Evangeline did not cower as she spoke to the man who held such power over so many lives.

“If you will not allow Lucy to remain with me, if I am forced to go to Leeds in order to have her with me, so be it. But know that I will stand her champion every moment of every day, and I will do the same for myself. A lady may do as she is told, but this woman will do what she must.”

“Good heavens,” Mrs. Barton gasped.

Dermot caught Lucy’s eye. The girl beamed with pride. Dermot couldn’t hold back a grin of absolute admiration.

“Before you begin storming the citadel,” Mr. Farr said, “allow me to tell you what I have in mind. I’ve been giving thought to what I want my mill to be in Smeatley. We’re building housing for our workers so they’ll not live in squalor. We’re making changes to the hours and the demands on those employed in the factory so the workers will not be so miserable. And I’m looking to offer schooling to the children working there so they’ll not miss an education simply because their families are in need of money.”

“Are you in earnest?” Evangeline watched her grandfather with wide, hopeful eyes.

He nodded. “I mean to open a school at the mill, so they can spend a little time each day learning.”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Evangeline said.

“I know.” Mr. Farr was nothing if not confident. “And I’d like you to be the teacher. Despite Mr. Garvey’s objections, I believe you’re a fine teacher. Your students read for me, you’ll remember, and did a bit of deciphering. I was impressed, just as Garvey ought to have been.”

“You were impressed?”

“Not merely by your teaching.” He lifted a stack of papers from a finely carved side table. “These were nearly impossible to overlook.”

Evangeline glanced back at Dermot. He shrugged, not knowing what the papers were. She stepped closer to her grandfather, eyeing his mysterious pile.

“Bits of writing?” She was clearly confused.

“Pleas,” Mr. Farr explained. “Written by your students.”

She took a shaky breath. “May I read them?”

“I’d assumed you would.” He gave the pile to her.

Evangeline returned to Dermot’s side. Her gaze was glued to the papers in her hand. “They are forming their letters more precisely.”

Dermot knew too little of such things to agree or disagree. “What have the children written?”

“I’m almost afraid to read them,” she admitted on a whisper.

“You needn’t be,” Lucy insisted, a little too knowingly.

“You had a hand in this,” he guessed aloud.

Lucy shrugged. “Susannah and I might have borrowed some paper.”

Evangeline’s brows turned sharply downward as she focused fully on the words scrawled out before her. Her lips moved silently as she looked over each page in turn. A brief smile. A soundless laugh. A sheen of tears.

“They love you,” Mr. Farr said. “More to the point, they have faith in you. They credit you with all they have learned and are begging for you to remain.”

Her eyes hadn’t left her students’ notes. “I have done some good here after all.”

“A world of it,” Dermot said.

Mr. Farr hooked his arms behind his back and rocked on his feet. “You are a fine teacher and a fierce defender of those in your care. This town could not do better for its children.”

“But the committee will insist—”

“The committee only has power over schools run by the town,” Mr. Farr said. “Private schools have far more freedom.”

Evangeline pressed the stack of papers to her heart with one hand and took hold of Dermot’s hand with the other. Her voice emerged a touch breathless. “Privately run schools like one sponsored by a mill?”

“Precisely.”

Evangeline looked at Dermot, hope in her eyes. He tossed convention aside and slipped his arm around her waist.

Mr. Farr gave a slight smile. “It would be difficult, teaching students who can’t spend much time with you each day, but I’ve every faith in you, my girl. Anyone who can deliver a scolding as precise and bold as the one you just did can certainly undertake a challenge such as this.”

He’d offered her the opportunity to remain in Smeatley, to continue working. It seemed almost too good to be true. Having been the recipient of far too many of life’s disappointments, Dermot held his breath.

“What of the children who do not work at the mill, whose families are not employed there?” Evangeline asked. “I cannot abandon them. Any new teacher the board selects will follow Mr. Garvey’s dictates, stripping them of their language and ignoring what they need in favor of what he wants. I cannot resign them to that.”

Mr. Farr had a ready answer. “I’ll turn no student away, whether they work for me or not. They’ll simply pay their fee to our school rather than to the school board.”

“What of those whose fees are being paid by the board?” Evangeline pressed. “They would be the poorest and most vulnerable of families.”

“We can convince the school board to pay that fee to our school instead.”

“I believe that we could work out an agreement,” Mr. Barton said.

“That is not surprising,” Mrs. Barton muttered.

“I believe the factory school would be very busy,” Evangeline said. “I do not know that I can single-handedly manage such a large undertaking.”

“I will help,” Lucy said. “Susannah Crossley and I—we’ll both help. We already are.”

“They are,” Evangeline acknowledged. “A teacher could not ask for two better assistants, but two such able helpers could ask for far more than volunteering their time and efforts.”

Mr. Farr arched an eyebrow. “You are a shrewd negotiator, granddaughter.”

“A family trait.”

A smile of appreciation touched his stern face. “I would pay the girls for their efforts as well, though Lucy would be required to continue her own education.”

Lucy turned pale. “I won’t go back to that school, Grand-father.”

Evangeline pulled her sister firmly to her side. “I won’t allow you to send her back.”

“ We won’t,” Dermot added, keeping them both near.

Mrs. Barton’s eyes pulled wide with shock at the bold declaration. Mr. Barton seemed nearly as surprised. Evangeline, however, stood firm, apparently convinced that Dermot would defend her sister as fiercely as she did. Their future was not yet entirely decided, but they had vowed to build it together and that was reassurance enough for her.

Mr. Farr held his hands up in a gesture of calm surrender. “Idon’t mean to send Lucy back. I will arrange for a tutor or governess. Your mother would have wanted that.”

Mrs. Barton scoffed and turned away, crossing the room to the window.

“Remaining will likely mean enduring continued unkindness.” Mr. Farr didn’t have to say from whom. “I wish I could promise you otherwise.”

“Her bitterness will not poison me.”

Mr. Farr turned to Dermot. “And I’d like to talk with you about expanding your back-to-back housing project as well as the possibility of another mill in a few years’ time.”

“Another mill?” ’Twas an enormous undertaking, one that would see him in fine fettle.

“I’m not fully decided, but I’m considering it.”

“I’ll think on it, as well,” Dermot said. “Though I’ll not make any decision until Evangeline has made hers.”

“‘Evangeline’?” Mr. Barton eyed him curiously. “Are the two of you on a Christian-name basis?”

Dermot silently dared him to condemn them for it. Mr. Barton smiled with approval. Mr. Farr did the same. Mrs. Barton blessed them all by not bothering to turn around, though she was likely glowering at the window.

Evangeline looked at him. “Rows and rows of houses and a mill, Dermot. That’s years’ worth of steady, reliable work that would see you quite comfortable. You would have everything you’ve ever worked for.”

“We’ve discussed this already, my dear. If life’s taking you to Leeds, it’s taking me there as well. In Leeds, you would have all the comforts; I’m certain your grandfather would see to that. If that’s what you’re wanting, that’s where we’ll go.”

“No regrets?” she pressed.

“Not a one,” he vowed.

“And we would be together,” she said softly.

“Always,” he answered.

“I want to teach the children, whether at the town school or the factory school. I want to see you build your houses and realize your dreams. I want to stay in Smeatley.”

He pressed the briefest of kisses to her forehead. “Smeatley, it is.”

“That bargain ought to be sealed with more of a kiss than that,” Mr. Farr said. He offered his arm to Lucy. “Shall we go in to dinner?”

Lucy accepted the invitation. She motioned for Ronan to follow them, which, to Dermot’s surprise, he did.

Mr. Barton stepped past his wife. “Come along, Bertha. We’ve a dinner to host.”

She followed, though reluctantly. The misery that existed between the couple was tragic. Dermot hoped Evangeline would not be subject to it very often.

A moment later, Dermot and Evangeline were alone.

“I am still amazed that you would have gone to Leeds if I’d been required to go there,” she said.

“I’d have gone to the ends of the world, darling.”

She brushed her fingers along his jaw. “For such a disagreeable man, you’ve proven surprisingly tenderhearted.”

He turned his head enough to kiss her hand.

“You’ve changed us all, Evangeline Blake.” He wrapped his hand around hers, holding it lovingly. “You’ve changed us for the better.”

“And we get to stay,” she said.

“ We. ” He smiled, something he didn’t use to do so easily. “I like the way that sounds.”

“So do I.”

He caught her gaze with his. “We never did seal our bargain.”

Her mouth turned up at the corners. “I suppose we didn’t.”

Dermot set his hands at her waist. Evangeline hooked a finger around one of his jacket buttons, her head tipped up toward him.

“Do you know you smell like flowers?”

She smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I like flowers.” He slid his hands around to her back, relishing the warmth of her in his embrace. “But I love you.”

Dermot brushed his lips over her cheek, not truly a kiss, but a personal, tender touch. Her eyelids fluttered and closed.

“And I love you, Dermot McCormick,” she whispered. “So deeply. So much.”

“And I am going to kiss you, so deeply, so much.”

She smiled, her eyes still closed. ’Twas an invitation he didn’t intend to ignore. He pressed his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms about his neck, her fingers threading into his hair. He feathered kisses along her jaw. She sighed, leaning into his embrace.

“I thank the heavens for bringing you here,” he whispered in her ear.

She slipped her hand from his neck to the side of his face and lightly kissed him. “Be certain to thank the heavens for allowing us to stay. Together.”

“Together,” he repeated, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

He kissed her once more, relishing and cherishing the moment. He had been alone for so long, convinced he always would be. But they’d found one another, and they’d found love.

He held her, amazed at his good fortune. They would be required to join the others soon enough, but for now, this moment was theirs. He wished it would never end.

“Dermot?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Does this mean you are lifting your one knock per day limit?”

He laughed. “You may knock whenever you like and as often as you’d like. Until the day my door and your door are the same.”

“I like the way that sounds.”

He held her to him. “So do I, my dear. So do I.”