3
ADAM FINISHED DRESSING, praying no one would discover him here in his old room. The maids, per their usual schedule, were busy elsewhere at this time of day, and as expected, when his family members had returned home from their day’s activities, they had gone directly to the parlor to await the summons for dinner.
Standing before the mirror, Adam adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and studied his reflection. A bath and a quick trim of his auburn hair and beard, as well as a clean set of clothes, had rendered him almost presentable. Nevertheless, unrelenting nerves pitched in his stomach. How would his family react to his homecoming? Mama would certainly be overjoyed—as would his younger siblings. Adam only prayed their happiness would temper his father’s reaction.
He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Dinner would be served any minute. Adam squared his shoulders, and with one last fond glance around the familiar bedroom, which his mother had kept exactly the same as before he’d left, he closed the door and headed downstairs to greet his family.
The sound of animated voices met Adam’s ears as he neared the bottom of the main staircase. He paused a moment to drink in the elegance of the house—the mahogany banister, the large chandelier overhead, and the marble entryway. Growing up, he’d taken this luxury for granted, but now that he’d experienced cement-block walls and iron bars, his home seemed like a king’s palace.
His father’s booming laugh rang out into the hallway. Adam cringed, imagining how the man’s good humor was about to change.
Halting at the parlor door, Adam peered into the room and simply stared. His father sat in his favorite armchair by the fireplace, newspaper raised in front of his face. Adam’s youngest siblings, Deirdre and Connor, sat on the sofa on either side of his mother.
Adam’s chest constricted as he took in the silver threads now winding through her fading auburn locks. Tiny lines bracketed her eyes and mouth, further indications of the passing years. A twinge of guilt pushed at his conscience, knowing the pain he’d caused her, which in all likelihood had added to those lines. If it took the rest of his life, he’d make it up to her—one way or another.
Steeling himself, Adam entered the parlor.
“I hope I’m not late for dinner.” He added as much false gaiety to his tone as he could muster and pasted a weak attempt at a smile on his face.
For several seconds the room stilled, and four pairs of eyes turned to him. His father’s newspaper fluttered to the floor while his mother gasped. Instant tears flooded her eyes.
“Adam! You’re home.” Deirdre was the first to recover, and in her usual boisterous fashion, she ran to throw her arms around him. Poised on the brink of adolescence, she still wore her reddish hair in braids that hung over her shoulders.
“Hi, Dee-Dee.” He lifted her slight frame off the rug and gave in to the pleasure of returning her embrace. “How’s my girl? You’ve gotten so tall since I last saw you.”
“You’ve gotten skinnier.” She frowned at him.
“Didn’t much like the food where I was staying.” Though Adam kept his attention on his sister, he grew increasingly aware of his father’s stiff posture and his mother moving toward him. Connor hung back, as though unsure how to react.
Adam set Deirdre on her feet to focus on his mother, a storm of emotion rioting through him. “Mama. It’s good to see you,” he managed to get out.
“My boy is home.” Tears dampening her cheeks, Mama grabbed him for a hard hug. Her frame shuddered as she wept in his arms. “We’ve missed you so much.”
Adam’s chest ached. “I’ve missed you, too.” His thoughts flew to the one time she’d come to visit him in prison, against his father’s express orders. Seeing his upright mother in that hovel of a place had broken something in Adam. He’d vowed then and there that if he ever got out, he would make something of his life so she would never again have to witness him in a state of such degradation.
Mama stepped back and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? We’d have prepared your favorite meal. Made sure your room was ready.”
“I’m sorry. It all came about so fast, and there wasn’t time. Besides, I didn’t want anyone making a fuss.” He smiled at her, ever his greatest defender.
Connor came forward, now a lanky teen with the family’s trademark auburn hair. The boy shook his hand. “Welcome home, Adam.”
So serious for a fifteen-year-old. “Thank you, Connor. You’ve grown, as well. Almost as tall as me now. Though I still may be able to best you at arm wrestling.”
The boy’s mouth tugged upward. “I don’t know about that. I’ve beaten Gil a few times.” His smile faded, as though he suddenly remembered Adam’s strained relationship with Gil.
With considerable effort, Adam kept his expression pleasant, ready to make the first effort at burying the hatchet. “I’m glad to hear Gil’s been keeping you in line.”
At last, Adam focused his attention on his father, who now stood by the fireplace. His stony countenance did not inspire optimism. It seemed it would be up to Adam to make the first move.
“Hello, Father. You’re looking well.”
“Can’t say the same for you. I guess prison will do that to a man.”
Adam ignored his mother’s harsh intake of air. “Yes, sir. It will.” He swallowed and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “If it’s not too presumptuous, I’d like to join the family for dinner, and afterward, I hoped we might talk—in private.”
The man’s expression did not change, save for the tick in his jaw. Adam sensed his mother nervously awaiting her husband’s decision.
“Very well.” Father bent to retrieve the discarded newspaper and laid it on the coffee table. He straightened, directing his gaze at Mama. “Kathleen, do we know if Gilbert is joining us for dinner tonight?”
“I believe so, unless he’s told Mrs. Harrison otherwise.”
Adam looked around, suddenly realizing his other sister was missing. “What about Bree?”
Mama smiled. “She’s at college for another week.”
Footsteps echoed on the hall tiles, and Gilbert rushed through the door. “Sorry I’m late. Hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.” He froze when he spied Adam. “Adam. This is a surprise.”
Adam took in the expensive cut of Gil’s jacket, along with the glitter of gold cufflinks, and fought back a bitter flare of resentment. This should have been my life. He stole it from me. “Hello, Whelan.”
The use of Gil’s surname, which as a child had always rankled him, still found its mark. Gil’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t realize you were being released so soon.”
“Good behavior does have its rewards.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Mama cleared her throat and looped her arm through Adam’s. “Come, let’s adjourn to the dining room. I’m sure dinner will be served any moment.”
Adam allowed Mama to lead him down the hallway to the dining room, mentally preparing to swallow a large piece of humble pie for dessert if it meant he could stay.
The children’s ward at Bellevue Hospital rang with laughter, a sound that warmed Aurora Hastings to the core. For a few brief moments during her visits here, these children could forget their pain and enjoy a little fun. Aurora loved her volunteer duties at the hospital almost as much as the hours she spent helping at St. Rita’s orphanage. The more time she spent with these misfortunate little ones, the more she became convinced that nursing was the career she was born for. The path God intended for her life.
Aurora continued reading the story, making sure to exaggerate her facial expressions and keep the tale entertaining. When she closed the book at the end, a collective groan went up from the children.
“Can we have one more story, Miss Hastings? Please?”
She’d learned when to end the sessions, knowing the children would always beg for more, but that too much would exhaust them. “I’m afraid not. But I’ll be back soon, and I’ll have a new book next time.”
She made her good-bye rounds, hugging each child, trying to make them feel special, if only for a moment. Then she waved and let herself out of the ward into the main corridor. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall, allowing the pinch around her heart to recede. It always took a few minutes to shrug off the sadness that clung to her after seeing the little ones in pain, alone in their beds. How she wished she could take them on an outing to the park or on a picnic. But she lacked the authority and the means to make that dream a reality.
“Miss Hastings.”
The male voice halted her inner musings. She turned to see Dr. Reardon coming toward her, and a rush of pleasure filled her.
For the past several months, Dr. Reardon had been acting as a mentor of sorts, allowing her to observe the nurses interacting with his patients in order to determine if Aurora herself might make a good nurse. If all continued according to plan, she hoped to apply to Bellevue’s nursing program in the fall, and Dr. Reardon’s recommendation would add considerable weight to her application.
Philip Reardon stopped beside her, his cheeks slightly flushed. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
Aurora gave him a welcoming smile. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”
“I have an interesting case on the second floor. I thought you might like to observe the treatment we’re trying.” He seemed a bit nervous, fiddling with the stethoscope looped around his neck over his white coat.
“I’d like that very much.” She shifted the books in her arms, noticing again what an attractive man he was.
He wore his brown hair short and sported a neatly trimmed mustache. His eyes, the color of milk chocolate, exuded warmth and compassion, some of the traits she most admired.
Philip Reardon was a man her father would approve of as a suitor. A man dedicated to his profession. A man, Aurora had to admit, she was beginning to see as more than just a mentor.
“Wonderful. Are you ready now?”
“Yes. I’ve just finished with the children. I can spare a few more minutes before I head home.”
Dr. Reardon’s beaming countenance hinted at more than just a professional courtesy. Could Philip be forming a different type of admiration for her? Though not an unpleasant notion, Aurora found herself hesitant to start something that might damage their working relationship. At present, she needed Philip far more as a supporter than a suitor.
She fell into step with him, and they headed toward the stairs.
“So, have you told your parents about your plans to enter the nursing program?” he asked as they reached the second floor.
A band of tension cinched her neck. “I’m afraid I haven’t been brave enough yet.” She glanced over at him. “I’d rather face a thousand infectious diseases than make Papa angry.”
Dr. Reardon only chuckled. “I understand. Your father is rather intimidating.”
“To say the least.”
He shot her a sideways glance. “I would think that you’d want to apprise him of your plans. If he sees how serious you are about your career, he might stop nagging you to find a husband.”
“Either that or he’ll double his efforts to pair me with someone,” Aurora replied. “You’re right, though. I will have to tell him one day soon.”
Dr. Reardon stopped outside of a private room and turned to face her. “If it’s not too presumptuous, I would be happy to speak to your father. Perhaps if I explained what a fine nurse you’d make, he might see your desired career in a more favorable light.”
Aurora hesitated. It would be so easy to accept his assistance. But she needed to handle her father in her own way. “I appreciate the offer, and maybe at some point I will take you up on it. But I’m a grown woman, and I need to learn to deal with Papa as an adult.” She gave a light laugh. “The first of many battles I will face in my career.”
A glint of respect glowed in the doctor’s eyes. “I have a feeling you will do just fine, Miss Hastings.”
A telltale warmth crept through her cheeks as she basked in his approval. Having a man admire her for her talents was a refreshing change. Most men saw her only as the beautiful heiress to the vast Hastings fortune, not the least concerned with Aurora’s opinions or her intellect.
The image of Gilbert Whelan flashed through her mind, and with it the usual pang of regret. After Gilbert’s betrayal and the ugly ending to their engagement, Aurora had sworn off romance and marriage altogether. Now, three years later, the pain had receded to a tolerable level, but she would never forget the harsh lesson she had learned at his hand.
Dr. Reardon opened the door and ushered her into the patient’s room. Aurora had no doubt that Philip’s interest in her had nothing to do with her father or her family’s financial status. She and Philip shared a bond of mutual respect and a common interest in healing the sick—a solid basis for a lasting relationship.
Still, for now, she’d bide her time. Keep any budding feelings in check until she had her recommendation and a guaranteed acceptance to Bellevue’s nursing program.
Maybe then, with her future secure, she’d be willing to open her heart to the possibility of romance.
His father’s study hadn’t changed in the three years since Adam had been here. Each book, each racing trophy, the neat stack of papers on the corner of his father’s desk—all could have been frozen in time. Adam inhaled the familiar scent of his father’s after-dinner pipe and braced against the bittersweet wave of nostalgia. As a boy, he would sneak into the study to sit in Father’s chair and dream of being grown up enough to smoke a pipe with him.
“Brandy?” His father held up the crystal decanter, one eyebrow raised.
Was that a question or a dare?
“No, thank you.” Adam took a seat on the wing chair near the hearth and adjusted his jacket. He still wasn’t used to this restrictive clothing. Prison garments hung like gunny sacks on most of the inmates.
In the two minutes it took his father to pour himself a drink, Adam rehearsed the little speech he’d prepared. Father lowered his hefty frame onto the chair opposite him and took a long swallow of the amber liquid.
Adam cleared his throat. “For the record, I would like to formally apologize for any embarrassment I caused our family. I will forever regret the disgrace I’ve inflicted on the O’Leary name.” He bent his head over his knees and stared into the flames that danced in the fireplace. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m here to throw myself on your mercy.”
His father did not speak or move a muscle.
Adam’s veil of courage slipped a notch. Still he soldiered on. “Since I am in need of a job, I hoped you could use another stable hand. I’m willing to start at the bottom. Do whatever it takes to earn my way back into the family’s good graces.”
His father drew deeply on his pipe and blew out a stream of smoke. His blue eyes shone as cold and slick as marble. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I found out what you’d done? That you’d provided inside information about my clients’ horses to gangsters?” His eyes narrowed. “How could you betray me like that?”
Adam hung his head, wishing he had an explanation, yet even he didn’t completely understand his actions. “Part of it, I’ll admit, was jealousy over Gil. The college graduate come back to share his intelligence with us lowly peasants. As though he were the salvation of Irish Meadows.” The bitterness tasted sour on his tongue.
You must let go of your resentment. His mentor’s words rang in his head.
Father slowly lowered the pipe. “Why have you always hated Gilbert? What has he ever done to you?”
Was he blind? Or simply unaware that he’d treated his ward like the golden boy who could do no wrong?
Adam shook his head. “Hate is not the word I’d use. Resent, maybe.”
His father slammed his palm down on the arm of his chair. “If you’d shown the least bit of interest in the business—” He squeezed his eyes shut in an obvious attempt to control his anger. “I promised your mother I wouldn’t fight with you, and I plan to keep that promise.” He got up and walked to the window. “Since Gilbert is an equal partner now, I need to discuss this with him. If he agrees, you can start in the barn—on a trial basis.”
Adam mentally railed at the irony that Whelan now held the key to Adam’s future. No employer would hire a man fresh out of prison, and Adam needed a way to earn money if he were ever to save enough to start his own business.
One step at a time . . .
He rose and walked to the desk. “Thank you. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
His father turned from the window to pin him with a hard stare. “You’ve caused your mother more grief than I ever wanted to see her go through, especially after losing Danny . . .” His accusing gaze made Adam want to squirm. “Don’t give her reason to shed one more tear.”
Adam’s heart squeezed with guilt. “I won’t.”
“I think for now it would be best if you slept in the barn. I don’t want Connor and Deirdre influenced in any negative way. Especially Connor. He’s at a critical age right now.”
A flash of the old antagonism surged through Adam’s veins, and he fought to supress it. To ignore the sting of being deemed unworthy to share the family home. He swallowed his pride, thinking sadly of his comfortable bed upstairs, and moved toward the door.
“Oh, and Adam? Next weekend marks Brianna’s graduation from Barnard College. Your mother is planning a big celebration. It would be better for everyone if you remained out of sight. We don’t want Brianna’s accomplishments overshadowed by your rather untimely return.”
Raw anger pasted Adam’s mouth shut. With a curt incline of his head, he strode out of the room, using all his willpower not to slam the door behind him.
Aurora approached the large Simmons estate, thankful that the suffrage meeting was being held at Mrs. Simmons’s tonight, since it was only blocks from the hospital. Aurora could easily walk without having to involve the family chauffeur in her clandestine outing.
Aurora knocked on the ornate wooden door and went over her plan for the evening, firming her resolve not to let some of the more vocal women get to her. She was here to find out about the latest developments in the suffrage movement, and if that meant putting up with idle gossip, then she would simply ignore the loose tongues of the ladies present. Aurora wished to possibly learn of larger meetings in the area, where career women met to support one another, hoping she might join a group of like-minded women.
The housekeeper answered her knock. “Good evening, Miss Hastings. Please come in.”
“Thank you.” Aurora removed her wrap and handed it to the woman, who then showed Aurora to the parlor.
Plump Mrs. Simmons sat perched on her Queen Anne chair, holding court among the other women who regularly met to discuss women’s rights.
“Good evening, Aurora. So glad you could join us.” Mrs. Simmons beamed a smile that brightened her features and caused her chin to jiggle.
“Thank you. It’s good to be here.” Aurora crossed the plush carpet to sit on one of the available chairs, taking in the faces around the room.
“We have a guest with us tonight,” Mrs. Simmons announced. “Colleen’s sister-in-law, Maggie Montgomery, is visiting from Ireland. Welcome, Maggie.”
The young woman smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Simmons. You’ve all made me feel most welcome.”
The charm of her accent intrigued Aurora. Too bad Maggie was related by marriage to the O’Learys. Ever since Colleen’s sister Brianna had stolen the affections of Gilbert Whelan, the whole O’Leary clan left a bitter taste in Aurora’s mouth. One she was still trying hard to put behind her.
“Are you feeling well, Aurora dear? You look pale.”
Aurora straightened her spine against the back of her chair. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“You haven’t picked up some dreaded disease volunteering at that hospital, have you? Your dear mother and I have both warned you—”
“I am perfectly well, I assure you.” Aurora managed a wide smile, which she hoped would convince the others of her well-being.
“Very good. Let’s get started.” Mrs. Simmons pulled a sheet of paper from the side table and adjusted her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. “The first order of business is a piece of good news. The National Federation of Women’s Clubs has voted to formally endorse the suffrage campaign.”
A murmur went around the room.
“The backing of this well-respected group can only mean good things for the suffrage movement. The vote for women in New York is getting closer than ever.”
Aurora’s pulse jumped. This was indeed good news. She made a mental note to learn more about this federation.
One of the women, Mrs. Pinkerton, crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “I, for one, will be glad when we can meet without fear of censure, not only from men, but from other women, as well. How can they not be behind women’s rights?”
Mrs. Simmons raised an eyebrow. “As widows, my dear Harriet, we are fortunate not to have to submit to a husband’s demands. Many others, such as Aurora, must defer to the head of the household.”
“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Pinkerton leaned forward. “We are all aware of Arthur Hastings’s view on a woman’s place in society, as I’m sure Aurora can attest.”
All heads turned toward Aurora, and she fought the urge to sink into the floor. As much as she supported the movement, Aurora abhorred being made a living example of the need for women’s freedom.
“Hasn’t your father’s primary goal been to marry you off as soon as possible—despite the humiliation of Gilbert Whelan’s rejection?” Mrs. Pinkerton’s cheeks puffed out. “I still can’t believe he threw you over for that rather plain O’Leary girl—”
Colleen Montgomery flew to her feet, cheeks crimson. “May I remind you that the ‘O’Leary girl’ you’re speaking of is my sister, and that Gil is soon to be my brother-in-law?”
Mrs. Pinkerton’s mouth flapped open.
Colleen strode to the middle of the room. “Please accept my apologies, Mrs. Simmons, but I feel the need for some fresh air.”
Maggie rose, as well, a confused expression on her face. “Lovely to meet you all.” She gave a half curtsy, then followed Colleen into the hallway.
With all eyes trained on Aurora, the room became too suffocating to bear. The last thing she wanted to think about was her failed betrothal to Gil. And Aurora doubted she’d learn anything of further value this evening. She pushed to her feet. “I’m afraid I must leave, too, Mrs. Simmons. I do hope you’ll invite me to the next meeting.”
Mrs. Simmons followed her out into the hallway. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I will speak with Mrs. Pinkerton and make sure she learns to curb her tongue. I’ll also send my apologies to Colleen and Miss Montgomery.” Mrs. Simmons shook her head as she handed Aurora her wrap.
Despite the beginning of a headache, Aurora attempted a smile. “It’s not your fault. When I see Colleen next, I’ll make sure she understands that.”
“Thank you, dear girl. You really are a gem.”
Aurora entered her Manhattan family home, removed her hat and wrap, and handed them to the butler.
“Is there anything else you need, miss?” Denby stood in the foyer, awaiting dismissal.
“No, thank you, Denby. I believe I’ll ask Mrs. Forrester for some tea before retiring.”
“Very good, miss.” He bowed and moved silently down the hallway.
Ten minutes later, seated in the parlor with a steaming cup of tea, Aurora breathed a quiet sigh, grateful that the worst of her headache had faded. Moments later, she heard the front door open and the voices of her parents echoing in the entryway. She looked up as they entered the room.
Her mother’s pleased expression held a hint of surprise. “Aurora dear, you’re up late this evening.”
Aurora set her cup in the china saucer. “I got in not long ago.”
Her father moved to the sideboard, where he uncapped the crystal decanter of brandy. “Wasting your time at that hospital again, I presume.” He poured the liquid into a glass.
Aurora straightened her back against the cushions of the settee. “I don’t consider volunteering with the children a waste of time, Papa. On the contrary, I find it to be rewarding for everyone involved.”
Papa shot her a disapproving look and merely grunted.
Aurora turned to her mother, who took a seat beside her. “How was your day, Mama?” She could always count on Mama to diffuse an awkward conversation.
Her mother smiled, creating a smattering of lines around her eyes. “I had lunch with Agnes Barnes and spent the afternoon in the garden. A very pleasant day.”
Papa lowered his substantial frame into his favorite armchair and set his glass on the side table. “I had an interesting day.” He paused. “James O’Leary came into the bank to see me.”
Aurora froze, her hand suspended in mid-air. Except for Colleen, whom she saw at the orphanage and at suffrage meetings, Aurora avoided the O’Learys like a contagion.
“How are James and Kathleen?” The regret in Mama’s voice caused Aurora a slight twinge of guilt. Aurora knew Mama missed her friendship with Mrs. O’Leary, and that she had distanced herself out of deference to Aurora.
“They are both well.” Papa paused. “James invited us to a party . . . at Irish Meadows.”
Shock raced through Aurora’s system, causing her hand to tremble on the teacup. “That man has some nerve after what he did to us.” Even after all this time, the memory haunted Aurora. Out of a misguided sense of loyalty, Gilbert had gone along with James O’Leary’s scheme to woo Aurora in order to obtain Papa’s favor for a bank loan, yet in the end, Gil’s conscience had won out and he had broken their engagement. Aurora’s feelings had been crushed, but in truth her pride had taken a worse beating. “Please tell me you turned him down.”
Papa cleared his throat and cast a glance at Mama. “On the contrary, daughter. I accepted the invitation on behalf of all of us.”
Aurora’s mouth fell open, and she set down her cup with a rattle. Papa hadn’t associated with James O’Leary since the whole betrothal debacle, so why would he consider going to Irish Meadows now?
“Surely you agree with me, Mama?” Aurora looked to her mother for support, but Mama merely shrugged.
“It’s up to your father, dear.”
Papa lifted his glass. “James and Gilbert have both apologized more than once for that unfortunate episode. Time and distance have allowed me to put the incident aside. I hope you are mature enough to do the same.”
Under her father’s intense scrutiny, Aurora dared not let her dismay show. Refusing to attend would only make her father more insistent that she go. She shifted on her seat and held her tongue.
“James’s daughter is graduating from college, and they are throwing a big celebration in her honor.”
Aurora’s stomach dropped. In addition to facing Gil again, seeing Brianna O’Leary would be sheer torture. She may have forgiven Gil for his part in the plan, but to expect her to attend a celebration for the woman who had stolen Gil’s affections was too much. “Papa, if you wish to attend, that is your prerogative. But I will not pretend, in front of Gil and the whole O’Leary clan, to be happy for—”
Her father’s scowl, along with the downward droop of his handlebar mustache, put a halt to Aurora’s tirade.
“The O’Learys are a prominent family in the community—one we cannot afford to ignore.” He glanced over at her mother, who remained silent. “There will be many influential people in attendance, including, I’m sure, a fine selection of eligible young men. You will join us next Saturday.”
Aurora bit back a bubble of indignation. I don’t care about eligible men, she wanted to shout.
But good breeding and manners would not allow her to disrespect her father in such a fashion. She swallowed her outrage and lowered her gaze to the floral carpet. “Very well, Papa, I will go, but I can’t promise anything more than that.”