Chapter 5
Servants on the Gideon estate brought Irene a set of trunks early in the afternoon. The trunks were singed, but in good shape. She took the keys for them and unlocked one to inspect the contents. Inside were the linens, dishes, and crystal her mother had given her to start her household. The next trunk contained smaller boxes with unopened gifts from family and neighbors. Irene closed that trunk after checking the packages on the sides for damage.
The next two trunks contained her old clothing, her wedding gown, and things her mother had brought for the ceremony. The clothes did not look damaged, but they smelled of smoke. Her wedding clothes had been better protected in separate boxes at the bottom of that trunk.
Irene cried for joy. I will have my wedding dress.
The last trunk in the group had completely escaped damage. That one contained family heirlooms. Special silver dinnerware, some jewelry for the wedding and some other traditional wedding items that would have been used for her ceremony and taken back home. These things were heirlooms, passed down as part of the estate.
Irene wondered if she should send them back after the ceremony as the rightful property of her cousin. Trying to decide, tears worked their way up and spilled over her cheeks. Irene fought it, but thoughts of her mother explaining each piece were too much to hold in. She settled where she was on the floor for a long time, lost in grief.
Martin should have made it here with me. None of this should have happened. My family should have been allowed to leave for Scotland the next morning. If there were any justice in the world, I should be sitting with mother, right now, going over traditions and arranging the seating for the reception.
"None of this is right," she cried out.
Lost in grief again, Irene didn't hear when someone entered the room. A hand lightly fell on her shoulder. Someone knelt beside her with the soft sound of rustling petticoats.
Irene wiped her face in her sleeves as if to hide what had surely already been seen. She turned her head to find Rebecca kneeling with her. Rebecca had settled herself on the floor, waiting for Irene to speak. She had been a good friend in these last weeks.
The trunk with the heirlooms was still sitting open in front of them. Irene turned away from her concerned expression to gesture at the contents of the trunk.
"I–I do not know what to do about these things," she said. "They were not supposed to be mine when the ceremony was over. They belong to–they were supposed to go back… Do, do you think I should send them back to this cousin that–that has… taken over…"
Irene could not finish. "These were not meant to be mine," she finished inadequately.
Rebecca closed the trunk on the upsetting heirlooms. "We can decide when the time comes." A handkerchief was produced for Irene to dry her face.
"I am sorry," Irene said, embarrassed at her weeping. "I am such a mess. These trunks came, and I was seeing if anything had been damaged."
"One has to expect a cloud burst from time to time," Rebecca said, smiling in sympathy.
Irene giggled at the choice of words despite herself, an excellent description. She got up and dampened the cloth in her washbasin to remove the tearstains.
"Why don't we take a walk," Rebecca said. "We can come back to this later."
"Yes, that is a good idea," Irene said.
The two ladies left the house, walking through the formal garden that adorned the side of the house. They wandered through it for a while and headed into a nearby field toward the river. The water birds were on the move. Irene loved watching them.
Two men watching the house looked on as the women enjoyed the sunny afternoon. They had stationed themselves on the other side of the river. One had a spyglass watching intently.
They had traveled a long distance together. The items they had trailed had been taken into this country estate two hours ago. They found this secluded spot to watch the estate grounds while pretending to enjoy the flocks moving along the river. With luck, they had hoped to see one of the two people they were sent to find.
"Well, do you recognize either of them?" The tall one standing farther under the cover of the brush said. He had been munching on an apple.
"The little one is Miss O'Donnell, for sure. I don't know the other one," his partner said. The observer was a shorter, older man with a sour disposition. He did not like the job he had been given, and he hated traveling.
The tall one was younger and enjoyed traveling. He spoke French and a portion of a few other languages, but did not know what the O'Donnell girl looked like. He was the one in charge here.
"What now?" the older man said.
"Not for you to worry about. I will put you up in an inn until the job is done. Then we will go home together. Keep watching. I'm going to the telegraph office we saw earlier. It's time to tell the master we found our girl."
The older man's mood soured more with the sound of his partner trudging through the tall grass by the river. "No good will come of this trip, none."
