5

DEIRDRE STRAINED FORWARD in the front seat as Gil guided Daddy’s Model T up the road with Dr. Clayborne, Miss Shearing, and Phoebe in the backseat. Deirdre had been pleased to find her brother-in-law waiting for them at the Long Island train station, his presence making her more anxious than ever to get home to the rest of her family. As they turned onto the long drive, the peaks of the house came into view.

Irish Meadows.

Equal measures of delight and trepidation rushed through her system. In what condition would she find her mother? When Deirdre left for Toronto, Mama had been barely conscious. Would she be more cognizant now? She must be improved enough for the doctors to allow her to come home, albeit with assistance from the round-the-clock nurses Daddy had hired.

Still, Deirdre wouldn’t rest until she assessed Mama for herself.

She turned to the passengers in the backseat. “We’re almost there. You can see the house up ahead. The stables are over to the right.”

The sight of her brother Connor working with the horses in the paddock brought about a giddy sense of homecoming. She’d missed her family more than she’d realized.

When the auto stopped, Deirdre pushed out the door and waited for Dr. Clayborne and his entourage to alight.

Phoebe looked around with undisguised curiosity. Miss Shearing clutched the girl’s hand in a death grip. Matthew settled his hat more firmly on his head and stood, as rigid as a fencepost, staring at the house.

What was going on behind those shuttered blue eyes?

“Welcome to Irish Meadows,” Deirdre said, unable to contain the rush of pride that accompanied her words. Not even the dour Miss Shearing could dampen her spirits. “Come in and meet my family.”

The ornate front doors opened, and her sister Brianna hurried across the porch.

“Bree!” Deirdre rushed into her older sister’s waiting arms. She squeezed her tight, happy tears brimming. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Brianna pulled away and sniffed. “Me, too. I couldn’t believe Daddy sent you all the way to Toronto.”

“How is Mama?” Deirdre braced herself for the worst. Gil had told her Mama was doing fine, but Deirdre wanted her sister’s opinion.

“She’s coping as best she can. Daddy’s set her up in the small library so she won’t have to contend with the stairs.”

Deirdre straightened her spine, determined that when she and Dr. Clayborne were through, Mama would walk out that front door on her own. Better yet, they’d have her working in her beloved garden by spring.

Gil moved up beside Brianna. “I don’t suppose you have any hugs left for your husband?”

Bree swatted his arm with a laugh. “I see you every day.”

“That’s okay. You can save mine for later.” Gil winked and dropped a kiss on her nose.

Deirdre smiled at the unmistakable bond between Brianna and her husband. After eight years of marriage and three children, their love shone as brightly as ever.

Deirdre linked arms with her sister and steered her toward their guests who stood at the side of the car. “Brianna, this is Dr. Clayborne. He’s come to treat Mama.”

Brianna stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Doctor. You’ve already met my husband, Gil.”

Dr. Clayborne gave her hand a solemn shake. “A pleasure, Mrs. Whelan.”

Bree laughed. “Please call me Brianna.” She bent to smile at Phoebe. “Well, hello. I didn’t know Dr. Clayborne had such a pretty little girl. What’s your name?”

Phoebe’s blue eyes, so like her father’s, widened. Deirdre practically begged the girl to say her name. But she remained silent.

“This is Phoebe,” Dr. Clayborne finally said.

“Welcome, Phoebe. I hope you’ll be good friends with my children. They’re off visiting their cousins today, but you’ll meet them soon.”

Brianna stood and encompassed Miss Shearing with a welcoming smile. “You must be Phoebe’s nanny.”

“Yes, ma’am. Miss Shearing.”

“Welcome. I’m sure you’d all like to freshen up after your journey. Follow me.”

Deirdre and her fellow travelers followed Brianna into the house. After they removed their coats, Brianna led Miss Shearing and Phoebe upstairs, while Deirdre and Dr. Clayborne stayed behind to wait for Daddy.

An odd quiver of nerves swirled in Deirdre’s stomach as she watched Dr. Clayborne observe the grand foyer. His gaze moved upward from the mahogany railing of the curved staircase to the crystal chandelier above. Did he think them ostentatious—or was he used to such luxury?

Before he could comment, their housekeeper came down the hall.

“Miss Deirdre. Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Johnston. This is Dr. Clayborne, come to help Mama with her recovery.”

A shadow lifted from the tall woman’s brow. “We’re most happy to have you here, sir. I pray you can bring Mrs. O’Leary back to good health.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

Deirdre removed her hat and laid it on the hall table. “Mrs. Johnston, will you tell Daddy we’ve arrived? And could you ask Mrs. Harrison to have some tea and sandwiches sent to the parlor?” She glanced in the gilded mirror and patted her hair into place.

“Right away, Miss.”

“The parlor is this way.” Deirdre gestured to the double doors across the foyer. She entered, inhaling the familiar scents of lemon furniture polish and the faint remains of Daddy’s pipe tobacco.

The doctor followed and stood somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room, taking in the marble fireplace and the piano by the French doors. “You have a beautiful home, Miss O’Leary.”

“Thank you. We’re quite fond of it. Please have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa and chairs surrounding the fireplace.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stretch my legs.”

Deirdre bit back a sigh as he walked to the French doors and stared out over her mother’s garden. Why did conversation with him feel so stilted and unnatural? Was it the man’s taciturn nature, or did he find her so distasteful that he couldn’t put out the effort to make small talk?

Daddy’s entrance seconds later came as a welcome relief. “There’s my daughter, home at last.” His booming voice, always too loud for the indoors, filled the room with energy.

“Hello, Daddy.” She stepped into his embrace, and for the first time in over a week, allowed the tension to seep away. Safe in the shelter of his strong arms, she once again felt secure and protected.

If only she could stay there forever.

In no way had Matthew been prepared for the luxury of the O’Leary estate. For some reason, he’d pictured a rustic dwelling out in the country with a weathered barn for the livestock. Nothing like this stunning mansion and magnificent-looking stables.

Matthew turned from his view of the impressive gardens to see a large, broad-shouldered man enveloping Miss O’Leary in a warm embrace.

The man pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before focusing his attention on Matthew. “You must be Dr. Clayborne. Welcome to Irish Meadows.” He moved forward to pump Matthew’s hand. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am you agreed to come.” Lines crinkled around his weathered face. Threads of silver invaded the dark hair at his temples.

“Thank you, sir. I hope I can be of help to your wife.”

“Please call me James. We don’t stand on formalities here. I’ll give you a chance to settle in, and then you can meet Kathleen.” His voice caught on the woman’s name, giving Matthew a good indication of the burden that lay on the man’s heart.

A maid pushed a tea cart into the room. “Your refreshments, Miss.”

“Thank you, Nora.” Miss O’Leary smiled. “And please thank Mrs. Harrison for such speedy service.”

The maid gave a quick curtsy.

“Oh, and could you please have some sandwiches sent upstairs for Dr. Clayborne’s daughter and her nanny?”

“Right away, Miss.” She curtsied again and retreated from the room.

Miss O’Leary seemed to treat her staff with an easy familiarity, almost as if they were family. Matthew couldn’t help but make a comparison to his late wife’s wealthy parents. The Pentergasts used their social position as a means of manipulation to get what they wanted, as though their wealth entitled them to satisfy their every whim. Like when they tried to gain custody of Phoebe after Priscilla died.

Matthew’s stomach twisted. He truly hoped the O’Learys weren’t cut from the same cloth as his elitist in-laws, who at this moment were touring Britain. They certainly wouldn’t approve of his decision to take Phoebe out of the country, but the fact that they weren’t expected back until sometime in December made Matthew’s decision easier to bear. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, especially since he’d be back long before they returned.

Pushing aside his negative musings, he joined the others at a low table while Miss O’Leary poured the tea into delicate china cups.

Weary from the journey, Matthew forced himself not to sink back into the soft cushions. “So, James, could you tell me a little about your wife’s history? It might offer some insight into what method of treatment would work well for her.”

Miss O’Leary’s hand stalled as she handed him his cup, and her eyes widened as if in surprise.

“You find my inquiry unusual, Miss O’Leary?” he challenged.

She held his gaze. “Frankly, yes. I thought you would take a more clinical approach.”

“On the contrary, I like to get to know my patients on a personal level before I treat them.”

A slight flush rose in her cheeks. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Matthew sensed she was holding back what she really thought, perhaps because her father was studying them intently.

“Has Mrs. O’Leary enjoyed good health until now?” Matthew prompted while choosing a selection of triangle-shaped sandwiches.

“For the most part, except for a bout with typhoid fever several years ago when we almost lost her.” James paused as though the memory pained him. “After that, she never regained her full strength.”

Though his focus was on James, Matthew was acutely aware of Miss O’Leary’s scrutiny. “Did your wife’s physician have any theory as to what might have brought on the stroke?”

“Not really.” James leaned back in his chair. “They ran several tests while Kathleen was in the hospital, but the results haven’t come back yet.”

Matthew nodded. “Was she under any undue stress?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Were there problems in the family”—Matthew hesitated—“or in the marriage?”

James’s expression remained unchanged. “None.”

Miss O’Leary set down her cup with a clank. Sparks flashed in her eyes, making them appear almost emerald. “What are you trying to insinuate, Doctor? That my father caused my mother’s stroke?”

“Deirdre.” James’s instant rebuke surprised Matthew. “The doctor isn’t asking anything that Dr. Shepherd and the neurologist haven’t already asked me.”

Her anger seemed to fade. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m a little defensive when it comes to my family.”

Matthew found himself wondering what it would be like to be championed with such fierce loyalty. “No offense taken.” He paused to wash down a bite of sandwich with a swallow of tea and held back a grimace, wishing for a cup of strong coffee instead.

The three sat in silence for several moments before another question occurred to him.

“Brianna mentioned she has children. Does Mrs. O’Leary help look after her grandchildren?” The exuberance of several youngsters could take a toll on a frailer person.

James set his cup on the table. “Brianna and Gil have their own house on the property. They’re over quite often, but Kathleen isn’t involved in rearing the children.” He chuckled. “Though that doesn’t stop her from giving advice.”

Miss O’Leary laughed as well.

“Well, then I must assume the cause was a physical weakness in an artery. I will proceed with the utmost caution.” Matthew set his plate aside. “May I meet my patient now?”

James rose from his seat. “Certainly. Right this way.”

As they moved out into the hallway, Miss O’Leary followed. From the determined set of her jaw, Matthew feared the stubborn woman would plague him his entire stay.

He gave an inward sigh. In order to keep his sanity, he’d better find a way to work with her. Perhaps if he kept her busy, she wouldn’t end up being a thorn in his already prickly side.