Chapter Nineteen

O 'Malley sensed the tension before he entered the parlor. A glance at the lass's worried expression had him needing to fix whatever was bothering her. He walked over to the settee and crouched down in front of her. "Are ye feeling poorly this morning, lass?"

Caroline twisted her hands together before lifting her gaze. "I am fine, thank you."

Something was definitely wrong. "Do ye need me to interfere on yer behalf?"

That question had her head popping up. "No thank you."

"I cannot fix whatever is wrong if ye don't confide in me."

Caroline lowered her gaze to her lap once more.

O'Malley stood up and stared at Melanie, then let his gaze rest on her mother. "Is there anything I need to be knowing? Has someone been speaking ill about Miss Gillingham? I'd be happy to have a word or two with whoever has the lass on the verge of tears."

"O'Malley, please," Caroline said. "It's nothing. I'm feeling out of sorts. Would you excuse me, please? I need to lie down."

"Do ye need someone to accompany ye, in case ye swoon?"

She shook her head and walked to the staircase. He was not convinced that she wouldn't faint halfway up.

"If one of ye will not follow the lass to make sure she won't swoon and fall down the stairs, I will."

Olivia rushed to the stairs and accompanied Caroline the rest of the way. Satisfied that she would come to no harm on his watch, O'Malley turned to Melanie. "Can ye not see she's not just worrying about her injury, but still grieving for her ma?"

"I'll be right back." Melanie darted across the room and up the stairs.

"Thank you, O'Malley. Melanie has not been herself since…" Mrs. Chessy's voice trailed off.

He sighed. "I can well understand that, and ye'd be right to treat her with care, but can ye not see that yer daughter needs to do the same for her cousin? When I first met Miss Gillingham, she was full of fire with a quick wit. She's changed in just a few short days."

The vicar's wife nodded. "Ever since she was injured." She walked over and placed a hand on O'Malley's arm. "At first I thought it was the physician's reply when he was here a little while ago. Caro asked him if it was the depth of her cut that required so many stitches."

O'Malley frowned. "What did Dr. Higgins say?"

"He added extra stitches, and kept them as tiny and uniform as possible, so the scarring would not be as raised and puckered."

He swore under his breath. "In me experience, physicians do not always consider a patient's feelings, as they are more concerned with healing them." From the way Mrs. Chessy's eyes darted to the staircase and back, he sensed there was something more she had yet to tell him.

"I think it might have to do with the invitation O'Ghill delivered from Mrs. Garahan," she explained. "I assumed Caro would want to go to tea with us."

"Ah, but she still has the bandage covering her face. The lass would feel self-conscious."

Mrs. Chessy's shoulders slumped. "To be honest, all I had been thinking was that it would be a pleasant diversion. Just what Melanie, Olivia, and Caro needed. I never gave a thought to her stitches. She has seemed to be handling her injury and recovery as if they were of no consequence."

"Sure and it's yerselves she's putting before her own wants and needs. Can ye not see that? She's lost the last of her family and does not want to give any of ye a reason to regret opening yer home to her."

The vicar's wife had the grace to look embarrassed.

"The lass may not have said it aloud," O'Malley continued, "but I am willing to wager she's worrying about the scar that will be left behind when Dr. Higgins removes the threads."

Frowning at him, Mrs. Chessy reminded him, "We're still dealing with my daughter's nightmares about the abduction."

O'Malley sighed. "Forgive me. I did not mean to dismiss what happened to yer daughter. I'm trying to help ye see that both lasses need your help. I may not have been there when Garahan and O'Ghill rescued yer daughter, Olivia, and Mrs. Garahan, but me cousins spoke highly of yer daughter's courage. 'Tis a mile wide. Ye should be proud."

The knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

"Excuse me." The vicar's wife walked out of the room to answer the door. "O'Ghill. Olivia and Melanie are upstairs with Caro. O'Malley is in the parlor."

"I wanted to ask if ye have changed yer mind about coming to Summerfield Chase this afternoon to tea."

"I haven't. I was too hasty accepting the invitation and should have asked Caro before accepting for her. Please extend my thanks, and let Mrs. Garahan know that once Caro's stitches are removed, we would be delighted to accept, if Mrs. Garahan's invitation is still open."

"I understand, Mrs. Chessy. I am certain that the invitation will be open."

O'Malley rose to take his leave. "Would you please tell the lass I was asking after her? I need to convey yer regrets to Mrs. Garahan."

"Did ye forget ye are to remain in town when ye have the village patrol?" O'Ghill asked. "I'll speak to Garahan's wife and see ye in the morning."

O'Malley's spirits lifted at the thought of being close to the lass. If only she weren't feeling poorly, he would have had a chance to speak to her before going on his rounds in the village. "I had other things on me mind."

O'Ghill chuckled. "'Tis the reason I stopped here to remind ye." He bade them goodbye and left.

O'Malley turned toward the stairs when he heard footsteps—two distinct sets of footfalls, not three. He did not have to look to the stairs to note that the lass had chosen to remain upstairs. "Do ye need me to fetch Dr. Higgins for ye, Mrs. Chessy? I'll be passing by his house on me rounds."

"I think all my niece needs is to rest quietly. She mentioned being used to being on her own. My sister-in-law must have been bedridden for longer than either Bertram or I were aware of."

O'Malley digested that information. "Do ye think she'd enjoy a chance to sit outside, maybe walk in yer gardens or to the barn and back? When my rounds have me swinging back again, I could stop for a brief visit."

"I have a feeling Caro would enjoy that immensely."

"When ye check on her, please ask her, and let her know I'll be stopping by this afternoon."

"In time for tea?" the vicar's wife asked.

"I would not want to put ye to any trouble, Mrs. Chessy—mayhap before teatime. That way, I should be able to convince her to take a short walk with me."

"What if she is unsteady on her feet?"

"Not to worry; with her arm linked through mine, ye have me word I will not let her fall." He paused on the front step, as he realized no one had mentioned the lass's former suitor a second time. Was he still a worry? "Forgive me, Mrs. Chessy, I've been meaning to ask—has Miss Gillingham heard from Mr. Humbolt?"

"Caro has not received any letters since she arrived. Although from what she confided about his behavior when he called on her, right after her mother passed, I cannot imagine that he would."

O'Malley had a gut feeling that the lass had not heard the last of Humbolt, especially if the man heard through the grapevine that she was living with an uncle who had connections to members of the ton . The bloody bastard would no doubt follow the trail of growing coin from Summerfield-on-Eden, all the way to Wyndmere Hall!

"Will ye let me know if she does hear from the man? It might be important, given their last conversation. I do not trust a man who cannot keep his word. The lass has been through so much already."

Mrs. Chessy's eyes welled. "Has she told you about David?"

"Is he another cousin?"

She shook her head and blinked away her tears. "My nephew Cornelius, her older brother, had a close group of friends growing up. They purchased their colors within a sennight of one another."

O'Malley had a feeling he was about to hear something he would not like.

"David Bantry was a soft-spoken young man, closer to my nephew than the others. He and Cornelius joined the same regiment." She paused and placed a hand over her heart. "They gave their lives for king and country fighting on the Iberian Peninsula."

He sensed David was more than a family friend to Caroline. In order to better understand the lass, he had to know, had to ask, "Was there an understanding between Bantry and Miss Gillingham?"

"Yes. Before he left, he asked Caro to wait for him," the vicar's wife replied. "They planned to court and marry when he returned…after the war."

His heart hurt for the lass. "I cannot fathom the pain the lass has suffered these last few years, not only the loss of her brother, but the man she was promised to, her da, and now her ma." His eyes searched the older woman's face. "How much pain can one heart endure? How does one cope?"

Mrs. Chessy reached for his hand, and at the soft gasp behind him, O'Malley glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs, where Melanie stood transfixed. He sighed. He had not wanted anyone to know how deep his feelings for the lass went…yet. Baron Summerfield knew of O'Malley's intentions, but he had yet to tell the duke.

"Prayer and faith have always helped Bertram and me through our trials and tribulations."

O'Malley stared into Mrs. Chessy's compassion-filled eyes. "'Tis something Ma has said to me on more than one occasion." He turned and met Melanie's questioning gaze as she and Olivia walked toward where he stood. "Have ye spoken to yer cousin?"

Melanie nodded. "I have. Did O'Ghill leave?"

"Aye. He'll return tomorrow morning to relieve me."

Olivia tugged on her arm. "You can speak with O'Ghill tomorrow. Come on, Melanie!" she urged. "We have something to do at my house."

From the way Olivia stressed the word, O'Malley had a feeling neither of them were about to mention what it was. The exasperated expression on Melanie's face spoke volumes, and he knew neither would speak of it—at least to him or Melanie's mother.

"Melanie."

She paused mid-step. "Yes, Mum?"

"You and Olivia may speak in the kitchen…or on the back steps. You are not to run off without one of the men accompanying you."

Mrs. Chessy's firm voice had her daughter responding quickly. "Yes, Mum."

"I'll wait for Stanbridge outside," O'Malley said. "I'll take me leave of ye now. If ye need me, give a shout."

"I rarely need to raise my voice, but I will if it's an emergency. Thank you, O'Malley."

He nodded to the vicar's wife and took his leave, then walked around the perimeter of the property and back toward the barn. It was larger than he'd realized, but he was still well within hearing range. He checked on his gelding, pleased the animal was contentedly grazing in the small enclosure attached to the barn. "We'll be leaving as soon as Stanbridge returns." O'Malley stroked the horse's neck and scratched behind his ear, chuckling when the animal leaned into his hand. "Ye'd follow me anywhere as long as I keep scratching yer favorite spot and ladling out a cupful of oats a few times a day."

Stanbridge hailed him as he rode up to the barn. "Where's O'Ghill?"

"The baron asked him to switch assignments for the rest of today. He'll be back in the morning."

The younger man nodded and reported, "All's quiet."

"As it should be," O'Malley replied. "Melanie and Olivia are out back. The lass is upstairs resting."

"And Mrs. Chessy?" Stanbridge asked.

"She was in the parlor a few moments ago, but mentioned baking."

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"From the way Melanie and Olivia have been whispering since I arrived, they are planning something. Ye'd best keep a close eye on those two."

Stanbridge frowned. "It's mostly Melanie's doing. Olivia would never even think of half of the trouble those two seem to get into on their own."

O'Malley had a feeling the young man was enamored of Olivia and was not willing to believe that she was capable of any wrongdoing. The pair would be a good match.

He let his horse out of the small enclosure by the barn and mounted. "I'll return shortly. Don't forget that we have enlisted lads around the village as messengers. Use the signal I taught ye. One of them is bound to hear yer short, sharp whistle and will find me."

"I won't forget."

More than pleased with how the eldest of the Stanbridge sons was adapting to guard duty, O'Malley began his patrol of the village, and the roads leading to and from the baron's home. Pleased that it was still quiet, he reversed direction when he reached the blacksmith's shop.

Stanbridge hailed him as he approached the vicarage again. "Anything happening that I need to know about?"

O'Malley grinned. "'Tis the question I usually ask. Nay. Still quiet. Where are the lasses and Mrs. Chessy?"

"Take a deep breath and you tell me," Stanbridge said.

Judging from his wide smile, O'Malley would wager the younger man had been given a taste of whatever smelled like Heaven. "Tarts or scones?"

"Both. The tarts have yet to cool. The scone I had was delicious. Oh, Caroline is still resting."

"Upstairs?"

"Aye. Mrs. Chessy had Melanie and Olivia check on her while they were baking."

Unease settled into O'Malley's gut. He'd have to ask to speak to the lass. No matter if he had to have all three of the women upstairs in order to protect the lass's reputation—he would find out why she was still hiding in the bedchamber.

O'Malley was poised to knock when he saw Melanie grab Olivia by the hand and drag her around the side of the house. At the last second, Olivia looked over her shoulder, then stumbled, but righted herself.

"Go after them," O'Malley ordered Stanbridge. "I'll stay with Mrs. Chessy and Caroline."

Stanbridge took off and caught up with the women before they reached the open field behind the blacksmith's barn. Watching the way he dismounted and stalked over to Melanie, O'Malley knew the lad would handle the situation.

O'Malley knocked on the back door and opened it to find the kitchen empty. "Mrs. Chessy?" When she didn't answer, he followed the sound of voices to the bottom of the stairs and called her a second time.

"O'Malley?" The vicar's wife appeared at the top of the stairs. "Didn't Melanie tell you I where I was?"

"Stanbridge just chased after Melanie and Olivia—they were headed toward the meadow."

"But I told Melanie that I wanted her to arrange a plate of cream tarts and set them aside for Baron Summerfield. I remembered your mentioning he hasn't had the pleasure of sampling them yet and thought he would enjoy them."

"Thank ye, Mrs. Chessy. Now about yer daughter—"

"O'Malley?"

He turned around and saw Olivia standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wringing her hands. "Where's Melanie? Is Stanbridge outside?"

"She…er… Well, you see…" She dropped her hands to her sides. "This is all my fault. She loves raspberries, and I wanted to show her that the raspberries growing in the thicket at the edge of our yard were almost ready to pick. She said the ones near the marsh would be then, too."

"What does that have to do with Stanbridge?" O'Malley asked.

Olivia glanced at Mrs. Chessy before she answered, "Melanie may have smacked his horse on his hindquarters."

O'Malley was beyond irritated with the vicar's stubborn daughter, but remembered to keep his voice devoid of emotion. "And?"

"I grabbed the reins and held on tight."

"Do ye mean to tell me that ye were on his horse at the time? Ye could have fallen off and been knocked senseless! Where is his horse now?"

"I rubbed him down and left him in the barn. I wanted him to cool off a little more before I gave him a drink."

"Thank ye, lass. 'Twas the right thing to do if his horse was lathered from the run. But what about Melanie and Stanbridge?"

She snuck another glance at Mrs. Chessy before answering, "She kicked Lyman hard, in the knee, and ran toward the marsh."

"Mrs. Chessy, is Caroline well enough to walk to the smithy?"

"Yes, why?"

"I need yer word that ye'll escort Olivia and Caroline to the smithy while I go after Stanbridge and Melanie. Will ye do that for me?"

"Yes. Right away. Caro?" she called out, rushing to the stairs.

The lass appeared at the top of the stairs, her riot of red curls tumbling around her shoulders, falling to her waist. Her face was pale as parchment, and her gray eyes huge behind her spectacles. "I overheard what Olivia said. Of course I'll go with you, but I need to pin my hair up—"

O'Malley nearly swallowed his tongue, her beauty so beguiled him. He managed to get a hold of himself and clear his throat to say, "No time. Yer cousin is headed to the marsh. I cannot risk another near drowning."

Hand to her abundant breast—not that O'Malley was staring, but how could he not notice when she placed her hand there?—Caroline said, "Aunt Josephine, I cannot let anyone see me in such dishabille . Please explain it to O'Malley."

"I'm afraid O'Malley is right," Mrs. Chessy replied. "I have no idea what has gotten into my daughter's head, but we cannot take a chance that she'll do something so foolish as to head to the marsh to pick berries. She knows that in the spring the ground is always soggy. The mud positively seems to grab hold of your boots."

The lass, God love her, was braiding her hair as she descended the stairs. "Quickly now." O'Malley ushered the women out the back door. "I can't wait for ye to walk there. I need yer word that ye'll not stop to speak to anyone. The smithy is just a short walk from here. I'll whistle for yer da, Olivia. He'll understand the meaning. Though he cannot leave his fire, he'll be waiting for ye."

Mrs. Chessy lifted her chin. "You have my word, O'Malley."

"We promise, O'Malley," the lass said. "Please hurry and bring Melanie back."

"And Lyman," Olivia added, worry creasing her brow.

"I will," he promised. "Now go!"

O'Malley leapt into the saddle and whistled as he approached the smithy. Coleman appeared in the open doorway to his shop, and O'Malley shouted, "Stanbridge is chasing after Melanie. She'd headed to the marsh. Yer daughter, Mrs. Chessy, and the lass are walking this way. They gave their word to come straight here."

"They'll keep it," Coleman told him. "Go!"

O'Malley put his head down and gave his gelding his head as he turned onto the well-worn path just past the blacksmith's house. "God help me, the vicar's daughter is more trouble than Lady Phoebe ever was!"

He did not have time to hare after the young woman, but what other choice was there? She could have left Stanbridge incapacitated, especially if she kicked his knee from the side. Did she not realize he and Stanbridge had a bloody duty to perform? Although that duty entailed guarding the lasses with his life, it was also paramount that he protect and ensure the safety of the baron, his family, staff, tenant farmers, and every blessed villager in Summerfield-on-Eden.

"She better not have fallen in that bloody pond." He covered the distance quickly on horseback and saw Stanbridge ahead of him about to enter the marsh. He called out, "Stanbridge! Grab hold of me hand." O'Malley slowed down and pulled Stanbridge onto his horse behind him. "Hang on."

"It's wetter than usual," the younger man warned. "Stick to the path."

O'Malley did for a few minutes before asking, "How far ahead of ye is she?"

"Not too—"

The splash and cry for help had O'Malley's gut twisting with worry. "Can she swim?"

"Nay. Hurry!"

O'Malley raced toward the edge of the water, leapt off his horse, and scanned the pond. Seeing the top of Melanie's head, he dove in. Striking out with strong strokes, he reached her as she slid beneath the surface. He dove down and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to the surface. "I've got ye."

She sputtered and spat out a mouthful of water before her eyes locked on him. "Thank you."

"Ye're safe now, lass."

Stanbridge was there to pull her out of the water. "Sit here while I fetch O'Malley's horse." She shook her head and slowly stood. She trembled, but managed to stand without aid.

O'Malley climbed out of the water and brushed the water out of his eyes. "Are ye all right, Melanie? Did ye swallow any water?"

"I spat the water out. I'm fine."

"Ye've no more in yer belly?" When she shook her head, he turned toward Stanbridge, who had a hold of the reins to his horse. "Thank ye, lad. Get on. I'll lift Melanie up to ye." He turned to Melanie. "Do not even think about running again."

She had the grace to flush before she inclined her head. Stanbridge wrapped his arms around Melanie and warned her to be still. It took longer to reach the smithy leading the horse back, but O'Malley did not want to take the chance that the vicar's daughter would do something else foolish. It was his duty to bring her back.

No one spoke until Mrs. Chessy waved to them from the front door of Coleman's house. "O'Malley! Stanbridge!" Her eyes welled with tears as she rushed toward them. "Thank you! Thank you both for bringing Melanie safely back."

"Why were you worried? I'm fine, Mum," Melanie replied.

"She's a bit damp and bedraggled," O'Malley said.

"But uninjured," Stanbridge added.

Mrs. Chessy let her gaze drift from the top of Melanie's head to the tips of her toes. "Your willfulness and stubborn pride injured Lyman and could have gotten you killed! What were you thinking? You cannot swim! Have you absolutely no concern for others? I thought your father and I taught you to respect life, not disregard it."

"Melanie!" Olivia rushed out of her house and stopped before she reached the horse. She watched Stanbridge dismount. "Lyman, thank you for going after my best friend."

"Thank O'Malley. I would never have reached her in time when she fell in the pond." Stanbridge turned to glare at Melanie. "Someone thought it would be funny to kick me in the knee to keep me from following her."

"I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble," Melanie said.

"But you'd do it again in a heartbeat, wouldn't you?" Stanbridge asked. She didn't answer, prompting him to add, "When are you going to grow up and start acting your age?"

Tears welled up, but Melanie blinked them away. "You are right, Lyman, and I am sorry to have kicked you so hard, but I was mad."

"Melanie Alexandra Chessy, that is absolutely inexcusable," the vicar's wife interrupted. "You have much to atone for, and will have plenty of time to do it. Your father and I will discuss this later."

O'Malley noticed Caroline standing in the open doorway and wondered if she had finally been able to set aside her fear of being ostracized for her disfigurement—not in his eyes, but her own.

"I'm not a child," Melanie protested. "And I refuse to be treated as one!"

Caroline stepped out of the house and walked over to where her cousin still sat atop O'Malley's horse. "Come inside, Mellie. Olivia and I have filled the slipper tub for you. Your mum has had the water warming to brew a pot of tea."

At the lass's soft tone, Melanie lost all defiance.

"I'll help ye down," O'Malley said.

"No thank you, I can manage."

After Melanie dismounted, Caroline held out her hand and pulled her cousin to her side. "You'll feel better after a nice, hot soak in the tub." The lass glanced over her shoulder at Olivia, who nodded.

"Lyman," Olivia said, "I have a poultice Mrs. Chessy helped me prepare with herbs from our garden. It'll help with the swelling in your knee."

Stanbridge stared at Olivia. But instead of thanking her, he chastised her: "When will you stop letting Melanie Chessy lead you around by the nose?"

O'Malley wanted to smack the lad on the back of his thick head. "The lass just offered to take care of ye, and ye're going to lecture her? Did yer ma not teach ye any manners?"

Stanbridge stiffened as if he'd been struck. "I beg your pardon, Olivia."

O'Malley asked, "Would ye mind fetching the poultice ye prepared, Olivia? Stanbridge can borrow me horse and have his ma see to his knee. It'll save time if she doesn't have to prepare a poultice herself."

"I didn't mean to snap at you, Olivia," Stanbridge apologized. "I was angry with Melanie. When I heard the splash, all I could think was she couldn't swim…and when she cried for help…"

His voice trailed off, and O'Malley was pleased that the younger man seemed to be searching for the right words to say.

"I should never have taken it out on you, Olivia. Please say you'll forgive me?"

Olivia bit her lip and nodded. "You are forgiven. I'll get the poultice and be right back."

"I'll help you, Olivia." Mrs. Chessy accompanied her into the house.

O'Malley gave in and cuffed Stanbridge in the back of the head—not as hard as his da would have done, but hard enough to get the younger man's attention. "Well done, lad. Think before ye speak next time. Without Olivia racing to the vicarage for help, I would not have gotten to either of ye in time to pull Melanie out of the pond. I owe Olivia me thanks as well."

"You both put your lives on the line for my daughter and the others," the blacksmith said. "Thank you."

Olivia rushed out of the house and handed Stanbridge a jar with the warm poultice in it. "It may look a little odd and a tad bit slimy, but it is supposed to look like that. It's the comfrey root, which will help with the swelling and any bruising."

This time Stanbridge's reaction was what it should be. "Thank you, Olivia. I'm grateful. Please thank Mrs. Chessy for me." He mounted the horse and rode off. Before either O'Malley or Coleman could speak, Olivia ran to the house and closed the door behind her.

Summing up what he'd observed, O'Malley said, "Ye might want to speak to Stanbridge about letting him court yer daughter."

Coleman stared at O'Malley for a few moments, then shook his head. "She's not old enough."

"Lasses back home marry by the time they're seven and ten. When is her birthday?"

The blacksmith ignored O'Malley's question. "I'm not ready for her to marry."

"I'm told a da never is."

"Wait until you have a daughter of your own," Coleman warned.

O'Malley nodded and followed him into the smithy to the room where he stashed a spare set of clothes. While he changed, he thought about Coleman's prediction, which planted the image of a babe with flame-red hair, wide gray eyes, and the lass's sweet smile. "I'm not sure I can wait."