Irish Linen by Candace McCarthy

Author:Candace McCarthy [Candace McCarthy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: Irish Linen
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.

Seventeen

Meghan sat in the darkened bedchamber in Somerville, listening to Miss Doddleberry’s snores. It was early Christmas morning, well before dawn. She’d been unable to sleep since retiring to her room hours ago.

Rafferty had eventually arrived at Gibbons Mill well past the supper hour, when she’d all but given up hope of his coming. He’d been quiet, but not irritable as he’d steered the carriage back to Mrs. Pridgly’s. He’d offered some mumbled excuse about why he was late that Meghan didn’t understand, but oddly enough she didn’t care. By the time they’d reached Somerville, there had been little time for them to talk, before Mrs. Pridgly suggested everyone up go to bed. All the residents followed her lead.

The boardinghouse parlor was decorated with holly and pine, but it didn’t seem as festive to Meghan as it did at Patty’s. As she stared at the ceiling of the bedchamber, she thought that the house lacked something. What was missing here that made her time spent at Patty’s more enjoyable?

She remembered the warmth generated by the people who lived at Patty’s and the pleasure they’d shown when she’d given each of them the small gifts she’d made: linen handkerchiefs for the women, new stockings for the boys.

Then she thought of the things she’d brought with her … a new set of sewing needles for Mrs. Pridgly, some cookies and donuts for Henry, George, and the other tenants. Thanks to Patty’s generosity and help in the kitchen, Meghan had gifts for everyone at Mrs. Pridgly’s, too.

For Rafferty, she had a special Christmas gift—a gold fob for the watch that Rafferty always carried with him, the watch that had belonged to his father. It had cost her a full week’s pay, but Meghan didn’t mind. She was grateful to Rafferty for all he’d done for her.

She realized she must have fallen asleep when she was awakened by the sun and Miss Doddleberry, who made enough noise in the room to wake Mrs. Pridgly downstairs. Meghan’s head pounded with a dull ache as she blinked and then eyed the woman with whom she shared the bedchamber.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Miss Doddleberry gave her a scolding look. “It’s six past. Why are you still abed?”

Meghan’s teeth snapped, but she was silent. Why do ye make noise when ye sleep like the working machinery at Gibbons? she thought.

“Merry Christmas,” she said with all the politeness she could muster.

The woman sniffed. “Merry Christmas,” she said insincerely.

Voices in the corridor signaled the awakening of the entire household, and Meghan threw back the quilt. She had taken to sleeping in the chair after her first night’s experience staying with Miss Doddleberry. The woman not only snored while she slept, but she thrashed about.

Rising to her feet, Meghan rubbed her throbbing temple.

“Head hurt again?”

To Meghan’s surprise, the woman’s concern seemed genuine.

“Here.” Miss Doddleberry dug inside the top drawer of the bureau chest and handed Meghan a folded paper. “It’s headache powder. My grandmother’s special blend.” When Meghan hesitated, the woman pushed it into Meghan’s hands.

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