Chapter 20

Laura and Remington shared a furtive look.

"And the Earl of Claridge? How old was he?" Remington questioned.

"'e'd turn seven on Boxing Day, Yer Lordship," Mickeline supplied, "'Cepting, o'course, that 'e be'aved like a lad twice 'is age."

"Boxing Day?" Laura wondered.

"The twenty-sixth of December," Remington provided, before directing his focus to Mickeline, "Childhood friends turned sweethearts?" he speculated.

"Aye," Mickeline confirmed. "T'was only a day afta Master Thomas arrived that 'e met Eilis fer the first time when 'e found 'er in the library…"

Fall 1940

"I beg your pardon," the affected voice startled Eilis, "Who are you?" For as far back as Thomas could recall, the use of the library had been exclusively his when he and his parents were in residence. The library was his sanctuary, his hideaway, one of the few places he was permitted to go without an adult watching over him. Here he'd while away hours of each afternoon acting out the adventures found within the pages of his books, playing checkers or chess with himself as his opposition or sometimes play a round of solitaire. Here he found… freedom. And to find an interloper? Well…

The auburn-haired little girl looked up from where she sat tucked into the corner of a tufted leather wingback club chair. Pairs of these chairs were stationed before each of the six floor-to-ceiling windows and she often switched from one to another throughout the day, depending on where the beams of sunlight from outside fell the strongest. Large eyes framed with thick, dark lashes regarded the boy peering down at her. She'd never seen someone such as he, dressed like a dandy and speaking so oddly. Never a shy one, she decided to answer his question and pose one of her own.

"Eilis," she provided. "Why do ye talk so funny?"

"Eyelash?" he questioned in an appalled tone. "What an odd name." The absurdity of the name made her giggle.

"Not Eyelash… Eilis," she corrected, then repeated, "Why do ye talk so funny?"

"Irish?" he intentionally 'misheard' since she'd found the first so amusing and was rewarded with a second laugh. "And I don't 'talk funny,' I'm British," he emphasized the last by squaring his shoulders and standing a little taller.

"AYE-LISH," she enunciated each syllable.

"Aye-lish," he grinned. "Eilis what?"

"Eilis Caolinn MacGeraghty. Yer turn now. What's yer's?"

"It's hideously long," he huffed, then rattled off, "Thomas Kevin Martin Landers Phillips the third…"

"They took a likin' ta one another right off, they did, 'n t'weren't long after they was spendin' every afternoon together, goin' ova Master Thomas's primers or 'im teachin' 'er checkers 'n chess. Me Fi liked ta refer ta the pair as old souls, both wise beyond their years, preferin' ta spend their time thinkin' than playin' 'n eve when they did play, it was usually games that took smarts."

"Like chess," Laura noted.

"Aye."

December 1940

"You can't move on the diagonal with the Rook, Eyelash," Thomas reminded her, not bothering to hide his exasperation.

"Well, iff'in' they didn't 'ave such silly names, I might rememba," Eilis defended. "A castle should be a castle 'n a 'orse should be a 'orse."

"What has that to do with the way the pieces move?!" he protested.

"Well, a horse prances so 1-2 or 2-1 makes sense," she offered with a proud smile.

"And a castle? Castles don't move!" he huffed.

"I just like castles," she shrugged. "It's where princesses live."

"Eyelash," he groaned the nickname, "Just make your move…"

"T'wasn't til near the end 'o 'is stay that we come ta realize they'd been workin' on 'er walkin' as well."

Fall 1940

It had taken a week for Thomas to work up the nerve to ask the question. His Mother and Father had instilled it into him early: You must be respectful of people's privacy and not pry. Well, rude or not, there was an elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.

"Eilis, why do you need those?" he asked, as she crutched her way towards the chess board, affording him the perfect opening. He watched as deep sorrow slashed over her face and her eyes dulled. In that instant he learned the lesson his parents had been trying to teach him right along: Your curiosity may cause another distress.

"Me legs were broken when I got 'urt," she answered in a quiet tone, then added in a more hopeful one, "Me doctor said iff'in' I work 'ard I can go ta school once I don't need these ta walk."

"Then I'll help," he promised…

"It sounds as though they'd grown very close," Laura observed. Mickeline hummed his agreement and nodded his head.

"Aye, they 'ad, Yer Ladyship," he affirmed. "So close, Master Thomas took ta sendin' 'er 'is primers 'n books as 'e finished them. We didn't think much o' it, ta be 'onest, it bein' odd times wit' Master Thomas permitted some freedom 'n all. But, in the summer o' 42, 'is Lordship 'n 'er Ladyship surprised us all, they did, when they permitted the young Master much the same freedom as that winter. I suppose since they finally 'ad the spare, they no longer felt the need ta cling so tightly ta the one."

"They had a son," Laura interjected.

"Aye, Yer Ladyship, a strappin' lad they called James," he shared as proudly as if he'd sired him. "Why, even as a mere babe, ye could 'ear 'im clear 'cross the castle, ye could, when 'e was displeased. 'N 'ow 'is Lordship 'n 'er Ladyship doted on 'im. T'was no surprise, o' course, given 'ow they'd lost two afore Master Thomas was born 'n two more afta. 'er Ladyship broke under the weight o' the loss 'n James was 'er salvation, I tell ye. As much as they loved 'im, it was Master Thomas who Master James thought 'ung the moon 'n the stars, followin' 'im like a shadow soon as 'e could toddle bout, 'n that was fine wit' Master Thomas. 'e took 'is role as older brother serious, ye see."

Spring 1945

Eleven-year-old Thomas was awakened by the light from the hallway that streamed into his room when the bedroom door opened. Shadowed in the light was a small figure.

"James, what are you about at this hour?" he questioned. The shadow lifted an arm and although he couldn't see it, Thomas knew a comforting thumb had been plugged into a mouth. "Another nightmare?" The shadow nodded. "Come on, then," Thomas lifted sheet and blanket, "Climb in." The small figure scampered across the room and into the bed, wriggling closer to Thomas. "So, what was it this time?"

"I dunno," three-year-old James replied, "T'was too dark to see."

"To dark to see in your dreams?" Thomas chuckled. "Last I seen, light automatically accompanies your dreams." James shook his head vehemently.

"T'was dark," the little boy insisted "And cold. Only light was so high up I could hardly see it." Thomas rolled out of the bed then threw open the drapes on his window.

"The moon is full tonight, you see? There'll be plenty of light until morning." Getting back into bed, he leaned down to look at his little brother. "You're safe, here with me. I won't let anything happen to you. Let's get a little shut eye, eh?"

Confident in his older brother's steady presence, the little boy closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

I guess ye could say Master James were Master Thomas's salvation as well given after James was born he was permitted one glorious month each summer ta be a lad, not the heir-ta-be. Nothin' crazy, mind ye, a bit o' fishin' 'n ridin' maybe some swimmin', but ye knew where ta find 'im each afternoon, off wit' Eilis be it in the library wit' their noses in their books or playin' a game of chess or out 'n about, studyin' everythin' from bugs ta plants ta whatever it t'was ta capture their interest that summer."

"And no one was concerned their friendship might bloom into a romance as they grew older?" Remington wondered.

"Eilis 'n Master Thomas was always so well be'aved, followin' the rules, neva givin' anyone a lick o' trouble. They knew the ways o' things, they did: Master Thomas would go ta Eton then on ta Cambridge afore marryin' a suitable member o' the peer 'n producin' 'eirs ' Eilis would take 'er place among the staff. Then there was Master James, always wit' them whereeva they went, 'n all. I don't imagine a one o' us eva thought somet'in' could 'appen with 'im about."

"'Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower, we will grieve not; rather find strength in what remains behind,'" Remington offered, almost to himself, surprised when two pairs of questioning eyes fell upon him. "Splendor in the Grass, Natalie Wood, Warren Beatty, Warner Brothers Productions, 1961," he expounded.

"Wordsworth, actually," Laura corrected thoughtfully. "What Mr. Steele is saying," she explained to Mickeline, "Is that the young are idealistic, believing love can overcome anything." She lifted and dropped her hands. "Even if you had known, I doubt there was anything you could have done to change it."

"Love will find a way," Remington chimed in, with a smile sent in her direction. She reached for his hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Yes," she agreed, before returning her attention to Mickeline. "And Eilis? She didn't mind Thomas's little brother being with them all the time?" Mickeline slapped a hand against his knee and bellowed his amusement.

"The Good Lord above knows that lass loved Master James as much as 'nyone, even 'is Lordship 'n 'er Ladyship. Why, when Master James was six or so, she really let Master Thomas 'ave it, she did, infuriated as she was fer what 'e'd done ta Master James."

"What happened?" Laura asked.

"Master Thomas and Eilis 'ad promised Master James a day afore ta take 'im ta the meadow. T'was somethin' special fer 'im, ye see, as t'were the first time 'is Lordship and 'er Ladyship 'ad given their blessin' for 'im to ride 'is pony wit'out them along. T'was a testament ta the trust they 'ad in Master Thomas 'n Eilis, ta care fer 'im 'n keep 'im safe away from watchful eyes, ye see. So when Master Thomas up 'n changed 'is mind, 'aving been asked ta play a bit o' football wit' the lads, well, Eilis 'ad somethin' ta say about that, she did."

Summer 1947

Eilis walked with determined strides through the middle of the playing field, ignoring the group of boys hurtling in her direction in chase of the ball the forward was propelling down the field towards the goal. That the forward happened to be Thomas was perhaps a bit of fate, she considered. With little planning, when the ball – and that forward drew near – she pulled her leg back, then with precision many of the boys lacked, kicked the ball straight out of play. A round of groans and complaints rose around her, but not from Thomas, who came to a halt.

"Have you gone daft, Eilis?" he demanded to know. "We could've—" Whatever he'd intended to stay ended in a yelp when she planted a heel firmly on his toes. "What the bloody—" In retrospect, he should have known better than to raise his voice to her, let alone cuss. In the moment, he found himself flat on his back after a mighty shove and a leg placed strategically behind his leg, left him on the ground staring up at her. The handful of boys scattered around them were torn between laughter and horror.

"Eilis, ye can't be just shovin' 'im about like that," one of the boys proclaimed.

"'ave ye lost yer marbles, Eilis?" came from another.

"'e ain't just Thomas, Eilis," from yet another. "That'd be Lord Naas iff'in ye don't rememba. 'e can 'ave ye tossed right out." Thomas bounded back to his feet.

"A moment, if you please," he directed the request to those around them then watched as the boys disbursed. Only when they were out of earshot did he address Eilis. "What has gotten into you?"

"Ye have, that's what!" she proclaimed, eyes flashing with anger. "'ave ye any idea a'tall 'ow upset James is?" A slim finger poked him in his chest. "Ye promised 'im!"

"Have you any idea how rare it is the older boys are all about to enjoy a game of football? James'll be fine. You'll see. Tomorrow, I'll take him out riding and for a bit of fishing afterwards to make up for today."

"'Ye think that makes up fer today? Ye gave 'im yer word, Thomas. I thought that meant somethin' ta ye." Thomas shifted uncomfortably under her withering look.

"Eyelash—" The use of his nickname for her earned him another jab in his chest.

"Don't ye be callin' me that." He rubbed at the spot on his chest, fairly certain that last jab would be leaving a mark. "Ye speak ta me about character, duty and 'onor, then turn ye back on all…" she snapped her fingers "…just like that 'n fer what? Ta kick a ball about? Family means somethin', Thomas, everythin', matter o' fact. I 'ope ye don't have ta lose yer's as I did mine ta understand that."

"Fer pity's sake, Eilis, don't you think you're making a bit much of this? It's only a pony ride." Her lips thinned and she nodded sharply.

"Bein' that's 'ow ye see it, don't ye worry about it. I'll take care o' James. I promised 'im as well 'n I intend ta keep me word." With those final words, she turned on her heel and stormed off much as she'd arrived…

"Harping at her superior," Remington laughed. "She reminds me of someone I know," he added with a teasing smile in Laura's direction. She grinned unapologetically at him.

"Just keeping you on the straight and narrow, Mr. Steele."

"A betting man would put money on 'is Lordship never having broken his word to his brother again," Remington speculated.

"Aye, least ways not that I eva 'eard. Eilis refused ta speak ta 'im for a full three days 'n t'would likely 'ave been longer iff'in' it 'and't been fer Saoirse fallin' so ill."

"Saoirse?" Laura inquired.

"Beggin' ye pardon, yer Ladyship," Mickeline apologized for what he saw as a gaffe. "A stunning Bay that Eilis loved with' all 'er heart." Laura's eyes flickered to Remington for a better explanation.

"A Thoroughbred. The Earl of Claridge's father had been taken with the idea of breeding and training the horses for both jumping and hunting then becoming one of the most elite stables in the United Kingdom." She nodded her head and returned her attention to the elderly servant.

"Now, it's my turn to apologize. Please, go on. What was wrong with Saoirse?"

"Twas 'aving a 'orrible time foalin'," he explained. "Kevin – Flaherty, that is, stablemaster and farrier - 'ad come rushin' up ta the castle from the stables ta call the veterinarian, not that it'd done much good, seein' how the veterinarian mo' than an hour away. Word spread throughout the castle 'n when it reached the kitchens, Eilis come runnin'. Twelve years old 'n just a slip o' a thing, she 'ad no idea 'ow she could be o' help but she knew she 'ad ta try 'n when Master Thomas got wind o' it, 'e gathered every book on 'orses from the librabry 'n 'ared off ta the stables afta 'er. Twasn't twenty minutes or so afta when Kevin came riding up on a mount, yellin' fer the sharpest knife we 'ad on hand. 'Hurry. Fer God'sake, hurry!' he yelled.

"A caesarean?" Laura speculated.

"No, per'aps even worse. The sack 'ad emerged afore the foal. Blood red, it was, accordin' ta Kevin, a sign o' certain death lest the foal be cut from the sack in under twenty minutes. 'e sped off once 'e 'ad the knife in 'and 'n tweren't a single word 'til near on midnight when Eilis 'n Master Thomas returned ta the castle, covered in blood and birthin' fluids. Only took a glance at their faces ta know the foal was fine 'n so was they. The next morn, 'is Lordship announced Master Thomas 'n Eilis would 'ave the privilege o' namin' the colt. They settled upon Lancelot, in honor o' Master James, who 'ad insisted all summer 'e only be read Tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, believin', 'e did, iffin' Lancelot could slay dragons, 'e could slay 'is nightmares as well. Some would say twas destiny that 'is Lordship presented Lancelot ta Master James on 'is seventh birthday."

"Hmmmm," Remington pondered aloud, "Makes sense as to why the Earl's farm is called Lancelot." Laura's head snapped in his direction.

"The Earl of Claridge has a farm?" Remington nodded.

"Of a sort, although a breeding and training facility would be a more accurate description. It's his most treasured personal holding. He and 'er Ladyship have made it their primary residence since their marriage." She blinked a pair of times then filed the information away for later.

"I suppose summers here around the horses had a great deal to do with that." Mickeline nodded.

"Aye, leastwise in part. 'elping ta bring Lancelot inta the world gave the pair a 'ole new interest. Master Thomas went off ta Eton that fall 'n Eilis begun ta spend 'er free time at the stables. Just like afore with Master Thomas's primers, regular packages o' books 'e'd been studyin' bout 'orses start comin' for Eilis. She worked 'and-in-'and wit' Kevin ta train up Lancelot as a huntin' mount fer Master James 'n was there when Saoirse birthed 'er next foal, a filly. From there forward, that month 'o summer the two 'o 'em spent as much time in the stables as they did in the library 'n on the castle grounds, 'n same as always, Master James was right there wit' t'em. Until the day that changed everythin'." Remington took Mickeline's cup and filled it with more tea, then handed it back his brows raised with understanding.

"And not for the better, I'd wager." The elderly servant shook his head slowly.

"Aye, Yer Lordship, not fer the betta." Taking a sip of tea, he cleared his throat. "T'was the summer of '52 'n t'was the same as summers afore, least ways that's what we believed." The spark of good humor that seemed ever present in Mickeline's eyes disappeared, his eyes glazing over as he played out the memories in his mind. "Eilis was seventeen that summer, Master Thomas 'ad turned nineteen the winter afore whilst Master James was eleven. Master Thomas 'ad finished first year at Cambridge 'n Eilis was finished with her schoolin'. Molly, knowin' Master Thomas would arrive afore long 'n bein' so proud o' Eilis's final marks, 'ad given Eilis one last summer afore she'd join the staff. Master James, much like Master Thomas afore 'im, 'ad been permitted freedom some years afore, 'tho wit' the understandin' 'e couldn't go off explorin' on 'is own."

"And James? Did he find friends amongst the staff's children as Thomas had?" Laura wondered.

"'e did, Yer Ladyship, although there was little 'e liked more than followin' afta Master Thomas," Mickeline laughed, recalling the memory. "I'm supposin' that was one o' the reasons we neva suspected Eilis 'n Master Thomas were anythin' more than they'd eva been. 'cepting when they was in the library or conservatory, Master James was always wit' them." Mickeline sighed, then continued with a heavy heart, "Until then…"

"What happened?" Laura asked, quietly.

"They was due ta depart fer London in a bit more than a day's time," Mickeline began, once more looking far off into the horizon as though he could see it play out before him. "T'was a beautiful day, so none o' us were surprised when Eilis 'n Master Thomas announced they'd be spendin' the day on the eastern side o' the loch, as they was hopin' ta find a Purple Hairstreak afore Master Thomas 'ad ta leave."

"I'm sorry. Purple Hairstreak?" Laura asked with knitted brows.

"One of the rarest butterflies in all of Ireland," Remington supplied, off-handedly, as though such knowledge was commonplace for all, "They are found only in established Oaklands and only for one month a year." A pair of brown eyes blinked at him. He'd done it again: Caught her off-guard with the wealth of knowledge he had stored in that remarkable mind of his.

"Please, go on," Laura apologized to Mickeline for the interruption, forcing her attention back to the man.

"Master James wanted ta go wit' Eilis 'n Master Thomas as 'e always did, but Master Thomas refused, explainin' there was only a pair o' days left fer 'im 'n Eilis ta find the creature. Master James, ye see," he looked at them as though sharing a confidence, "Was a curious one 'n always full o' energy. Iff'in' ye took yer eyes off o' the lad fer even a blink o' an eye, 'e'd be off findin' him some trouble ta get inta."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Laura muttered under her breath, drawing a smug grin from Remington. With the faraway look returned to his eyes, Mickeline continued on as though she'd said nothing.

"Master James begged ta go, 'e did, swearin' 'e'd be able ta 'elp them find the Purple Hairstreak, but Master Thomas 'eld firm 'n 'e and Eilis left off on their own."

Summer 1952

Thomas's long body was stretched out over Eilis's petite frame. With the pad of a thumb, he brushed away the beads of perspiration on her brow, then drew his lips over the path his thumb had just taken. Leaning back, he soaked in her fair skin, full lips and pert nose with a light sprinkling of freckles crossing its bridge. Her loveliness stole his breath away and that he no longer felt compelled to hide his feelings from her, made his heart swell to the point it felt it would burst. He couldn't resist the call of those kiss swollen lips and leaned in for another.

"I love you, Eyelash," he whispered as his lips hovered over his again, before stealing another. "God above knows, just how much I do." A smile lifted those lips as she cupped his head in her palms, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

"I love ye, Thomas. Ye know that I do." Her smile faded to be replaced by a worried brow. "Are ye sure? I know ye've said that ye are, but ta give up so much."

"I don't want any of it," he vowed, vociferously. Rolling off her, he reached for her undergarments and handed them to her before picking up his underwear and wiggling into it. "I never have, I merely accepted it as my duty, but I have a duty to myself, do I not? To you?" Eilis grabbed her dress and jumped to her feet.

"Duty! Is that what I am to ye?" Thomas snatched up his pants and followed her to his feet.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Eilis," he shot back, as he pulled on his pants. Reaching for his shirt, he forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. He shoved his arms into the sleeves, then, leaving it unbuttoned, gathered her close. "I won't be told who I can and cannot love all because I happened to be born to privilege. We only have this life, Eilis. We've the God given right to live it happily."

"Ye've never known a life wit'out privilege," she worried, not for the first time.

"We've been over this before, Eilis," he reminded. "My grandmother left me a goodly sum, not to mention her family's country estate, which will one day be our home. We'll have enough to live the rest of our lives comfortably… more than comfortably…" he bent at his knees to look her squarely in her eyes, "…our children, as well." A hesitant smile made him press on. "Tomorrow after breakfast, we'll say we're coming to the meadow. By the time anyone realizes we're missing, we'll be well on our way to Scotland where we'll wed. Then on to London. I'll finish at Cambridge and you'll attend University College and in the evenings we'll study together. Right?" The romance of it all was contagious and she nodded her head.

"Yes." He kissed her soundly for her agreement, then cupping her shoulders in his hand continued.

"And after university, we'll begin our stables where we'll breed Thoroughbreds—"

"And train them," she added.

"We'll have a good life, Eyelash," he reassured. "The best."

"T'wasn't 'til Master James' horse returned wit'out him that anyone realized somethin' was amiss… or that 'e'd been off on 'is own, a'tall. 'is Lordship 'n 'er Ladyship had thought Master James off wit' Eilis and Master Thomas like 'e was most afternoons 'n when they learned 'e 'adn't been 'n that no one had seen 'im fer hours, 'is Lordship gathered the men on the staff ta search. 'is Lordship was the one ta find Master James." The old man had to take a moment to gather himself together, before continuing with weepy eyes, "He found 'im on the ground at the bottom o' a tall oak…"

"He'd fallen," Laura concluded sympathetically. Remington reached for her hand, tangling their fingers together. It was clear by the old servant's distress where the tale was heading.

"Unseated afta bein' 'it in the 'ead by a low 'anging brach. Paddy O'Callahan would later tell us t'was nothing could be done." Mickeline raised wet eyes to look back-and-forth between the pair of detectives. "A broken neck, ye see. Paddy said 'e'd never heard nothin' like it, the way 'is Lordship howled his heartbreak, his pain flushing the birds from the trees 'n bringin' Master Thomas 'n Eilis galloping up ta see who t'was in such torment. From what we was told, Thomas was frozen in 'is saddle, unable ta understand the 'orror afore him, but Eilis flung 'erself off Saoirse 'n ran ta the lad's side, 'er screams o' remorse 'n 'eartbreak reachin' the ears o' men still deep in the woods. We would learn later all one 'ad ta do was ta look at the pair 'o them, ta know what they'd been about, least ways accordin' ta Paddy, disheveled as they'd been 'n clothes askew. 'is Lordship neva said so much as a word about it, but 'e didn't need ta, what wit' Eilis 'n Master Thomas blamin' themselves 'n all fer James' death."

"But it was an accident," Laura championed the pair.

"Aye, Yer Ladyship," Mickeline agreed, "They'd been watchin' afta Master James fer so long that the 'if' o' it all ate at them whole."

"If they'd taken James…" Remington ventured. Mickeline nodded his head.

"'is Lordship was filled with rage, 'e was 'n needin' to blame someone, somethin'. He marched inta the castle 'n 'eaded straight for 'is office where one o' his rifles 'ung. Eilis 'n Thomas rode up just in time ta see 'is Lordship gallop off towards the stable, followin' 'im wit'out a second's thought. They entered the stables just in time ta witness 'is Lordship putting a bullet into the colt's head. Weren't 'bout two 'ours later 'is Lordship 'elped 'er Ladyship inta the car, shovin' Master Thomas in behind 'er. They followed the car carryin' Master James' body outta the gates 'n we wouldn't see them again fer more than two years."

"When did Eilis realize she was pregnant?" Laura inquired.

"If'fin' I was ta guess, she'd 'ave been roun' 'bout three months along," Mickeline replied with a scratch of his chin. "'er grief 'n guilt weighed on 'er shoulders 'eavily, ye see. All 'o us was twistin' our 'ands, watchin' 'er waste 'way, the light in 'er that made 'er Eilis snuffed out. T'was as though Master James dyin' was one ta many losses fer 'er ta bear. Me thinks she would neva 'ave allowed 'erself ta love again if'fin' t'weren't fer the babe. The light in 'er burned bright again, it did n' t'was plain fer all ta see 'ow much she loved the babe, talkin' ta it n' rubbin' 'er belly as she would when she worked." Mickeline looked at Laura and grinned. "Eilis neva 'ad a doubt the babe would be a boy 'n that 'e'd be the spittin' image o' Master Thomas."

"She still loved him," Laura commented with soft certainty.

"Aye, Yer Ladyship, that she did," Mickeline agreed with conviction. "T'was why she neva told Master Thomas she was wit' child. She always was a smart one 'n she understood 'ow things 'ad ta be. Wit' Master James gone, there was no longer a spare so iff'in Master Thomas were ta choose Eilis 'n the babe, 'e'd bring great shame upon 'is family 'n 'e'd forfeit all t'was attached ta 'is titles, current 'n future. 'e only had the one choice ta make: Ta be who 'e was born ta be. Askin' 'im ta choose would 'ave only been cruel 'n Eilis didn't have a cruel bone in 'er body." Laura peeked a look at Remington with slanted eyes. They were treading close to potentially explosive territory.

"And the baby? When was he born?" she asked the older man, easing the story ahead.

"The fifth o' April in '53.

"You're remarkably precise with the date," Remington observed, before Laura could remark on the same, "Especially given thirty-some-odd years have passed." Seeing the older man wet his lips for the second time in so many minutes, he took Mickeline's cup and reached for the thermos of tea.

"T'was a day I remember well, I assure ye, Yer Lordship," Mickeline informed him somberly. "Me 'n Fi – that be my wife, Fiona, God rest her soul…" He paused to cross himself, then continued "…'elped Molly wit' bringin' up Eilis, we did. We loved the lass as though she was one o' our own, so when the lad who lived next ta Molly come a'bangin' on our door just afore midnight on 'oly Saturday, we 'ad no need ta ask why. Fi was not only the 'ead seamstress at the castle, but one 'o two midwives in the village. There were no doubt, o' course, that it would be Fi takin' care o' Eilis when the time come." He gratefully took the cup Remington offered, then took a sip of the warm brew. Clearing his throat, he nodded his gratitude. "My thanks, Yer Lordship." Remington waved a careless hand.

"Think nothing of it. Please, continue," he insisted, as he took Laura's cup from her to top it off.

"For near on a day n' a 'alf, Eilis suffered through the pains, turnin' somewhere deep wit'in 'erself, makin' nary a sound, least ways until those last few 'ours." Mickeline lifted eyes grown moist with memories to regard them. "Fer a good while we were afeared neither Eilis nor the babe would make it. She was just a bit o' a thing, ye see, 'n the babe was large. Fer three 'ours the walls o' Molly's house shook from Eilis's screams 'n when it fell silent, I swear ta ye those waitin' 'n prayin' believed the worst 'ad come ta pass, meself included. So when we 'eard the babe 'owling n' Eilis's laughter, well, we all so relieved they'd made it that our laughter joined 'ers. Neva 'as there been a betta Easter Day afore or since. 'N when we was finally allowed inta the room it was clear somethin' in Eilis 'ad changed: There was a…" he struggled for the right word, "… peace about 'er, as though she'd figured out somethin' that 'ad puzzled 'er fer some time. It were a month or so after the babe arrived that she shared wit' me what it were." Laura tipped her head in avid curiosity.

"Oh? And what was it?" she encouraged.

"She'd found 'er purpose, ye see. God 'ad put 'er 'ere, she said, ta birth that little babe 'n ta assure 'e grew up ta be as intelligent 'n kind as Master Thomas 'n as curious 'n adventurous as Master James. She vowed 'e'd be given every opportunity she could give 'im 'n ta shower 'im wit' love enough fer both 'is parents. 'N I'm 'ere ta tell ye, she did just that. Sean James was the 'appiest babe I eva did see, always laughin' 'n squealin'. 'e kept us on our toes, 'e did, 'specially—"

"Eilis and Sean James lived here at Ashford?" Laura quickly cut in, unable to curb her curiosity. This is new. The question drew a shake of Mickeline's head.

"No, Yer Ladyship," Mickeline refuted. "Molly 'n Eilis 'ad a 'ome in the village, like most o' the staff, but Eilis 'ad taken 'er place on the staff several months afore the babe was born 'n afta she tucked a cradle in the corner o' the kitchen so Molly could watch over 'im as she attended ta 'er 'ousehold duties." Laura and Remington exchanged questioning looks.

"A risky decision, wasn't it?" Remington proposed, then lifted his hand to further offer, "I mean, if she were truly intent on His Lordship never discovering he had a son…" He allowed Mickeline to finish the thought for himself.

"Eilis 'ad taken that inta account, Yer Lordship," he assured, "Puttin' a little back each month so ta take the 'ole month o' July off. 'Cepting fer durin' the raids 'is Lordship 'n family 'ad neva come outside the month 'o July 'n even then 'er Ladyship would inform us at least a fortnight afore, so's she could speak ta Molly ta plan the menus 'n such. They didn't come that first July or the one that followed 'n we'd come ta accept they might'n't eva visit again, considerin' what 'ad 'appened 'n all."

"But they did…" Laura speculated.

"Aye, Yer Ladyship, in November of '54," Mickeline confirmed, growing somber once more. "We'd neva 'eard so much as a word that 'er Ladyship 'n Master Thomas would be arrivin', so we was surprised, ta say the least. Why, when the front door swung open 'n they stepped in, my 'eart bout dropped ta my toes knowin' Eilis 'n Sean James was tucked away in the library." He lifted his eyes to regard Laura, a small, sad smile on his lips. "She read ta the babe every day afta mid-day meal. Master Thomas's love o' learnin' 'n fer books, she said, was a piece o' 'im that she could share wit' their son." His weathered face grew thoughtful. "I'm supposin' t'was fittin' that Master Thomas would meet 'is son fer the first time in the same place 'e met Eilis so many years afore. Sean James, ye see, was a ball o' energy 'n the minute ye set 'im on 'is feet, off 'e'd go, just a'laughin' all the way." Mickeline laughed fondly. "Even as ye was chasin' 'im out o' whatever mischief 'e 'ad in mind, ye couldn't get upset wit' 'im. 'e was a little charmer, 'e was." Laura slanted her eyes in Remington's direction.

"I'm familiar with the type," she drawled, earning a cocky half-smile and a pair of twinkling blue eyes from her partner.

"I'm flattered," he replied smoothly. She feigned a scowl.

"I don't see why," she informed him, breezily, then set him down firmly, "I was referring to your habit of getting into mischief, Mr. Steele. Your charm doesn't work on me." She should have known he'd see the words as a challenge.

"Is that so?" he returned in a honey-coated tone. He lay desire-heated eyes on the base of her neck while stroking her palm with his thumb in a suggestive rhythm meant to stir her imagination. Her fingers involuntarily flexed and a warm blush spread over her skin. That cocky grin returned, a lift of a single brow telling her he'd not only noticed, but was smugly amused. Damn him. She tugged her hand from his and returned her eyes to Mickeline.

"What happened?" she asked in a quiet, encouraging tone. Mickeline drained his cup of tea before speaking.

"The door ta the library opened 'n out Eilis walked, 'oldin' the babe in 'er arms 'n scoldin' 'im fer tryin' ta run off again. 'Course, Sean James weren't 'avin' none o' it, putting 'is wee 'ands on Eilis's cheeks 'n a-grinnin' up at 'er. She didn't even realize what it was she 'ad walked inta until 'er Ladyship uttered 'Dear God'. There was no mistakin' whose the babe was, given 'e was the spittin' image o' Master James at that age 'cepting fer 'is eyes. Well—" It was the perfect opening and Laura stormed through it.

"His eyes were hazel, like his mother's," she repeated what the Earl of Claridge had once asserted, then held her breath. If she was correct…

"I'm afraid ye 'ave that backwards, Yer Ladyship. T'was James who 'ad the 'azel eyes, whereas Eilis's were as blue as the sky above us…"

Her Mr. Steele was a bright man, who'd spent most of his life relying on his intelligence and wits to stay alive and she in turn had spent years learning the nuances of the man beside her. She didn't have to see him to know his jaw was clenched, the muscle twitching or that to anyone else he'd seem completely sublime. She didn't need to take a peek in his direction to know he was furious with her: That she'd figured out the Earl of Claridge had lied to him the year before. There were explanations and apologies owed, but not right now. Here and now, all that mattered was story of his childhood and how he'd ended up been passed between family after family until he'd finally sought refuge in the streets.

"Master Thomas, turned as pale as a ghost," Mickeline continued, oblivious to Remington's reaction, "When 'e finally got 'old o' 'imself n' could speak 'e spoke only five words, 'Eilis, a word wit' ye' 'n whisked 'er 'n the babe inta the library. They was in there fer 'ours afore 'er Ladyship called fer me. She'd gathered what she'd come fer 'n asked me ta inform Master Thomas she'd like 'im ta take 'er back ta the 'otel in Galway at once. Master Thomas was by 'imself, much ta me surprise 'n instructed me ta 'ave is room made up as 'e'd be stayin' 'ere once 'e escorted 'er Ladyship back ta London."

Laura blinked her eyes in surprise and the hair at the nape of her neck stood at attention. This was certainly a part of the story neither she nor her partner – at least to the best of her knowledge – had heard before. She felt that rush… that current of electricity that shimmered through her blood when she was about to unearth a critical clue. Her questions were many but she hesitated, turning her head to regard Remington, then mentally sighing at the glacial fury she found in his eyes. He'd require careful handling when they were alone, but since the damage was already done it seemed foolish not to extract from Mickeline anything he knew.

"The Earl of Claridge told us he'd only seen his son once. Did he not return?" Laura delved.

"'e did, Yer Ladyship, just three days later, but Eilis 'n the babe was gone afore 'e arrived," Mickeline expounded. Shockingly, it was Remington who spoke, his curiosity aroused despite his anger.

"It's been my experience people disappear when they are running from something," he suggested, "Which begs the question: What happened that Eilis would strike out on her own… and as a single mother at that?" Mickeline shook his head, ruefully.

"I neva asked Molly fer the details 'n she neva told, Yer Lordship. All I know fer certain is what I heard wit' me own ears 'n saw wit' me own eyes."

"And what exactly did you see and hear?" Laura stepped in to question.

"Not much, Yer Ladyship, iff'in' I'm 'onest," the elderly servant admitted. "Molly come ta work the next morn pale as a ghost 'n as mad as a wet 'ornet at once. No one, she didn't care who they was, she said, was takin' Sean James from Eilis, least ways not so long as Molly 'ad a breath left in 'er."

"Someone threatened her…" Laura mulled aloud.

"Eilis 'ad saved a bit but t'wouldn't be enough fer 'er 'n Sean James ta set up a 'ouse, least ways not fer very long. Fi took up a collection from the staff 'n though it were by no means a fortune, added ta what she 'ad saved t'would be enough ta get 'er through a few months."

"Where did she go?" This from Laura.

"No one – not even Molly 'erself - knew the answer ta that, Yer Ladyship, leastways 'til near the end o' October in '55," Mickeline elaborated. "Terrence – that be Terrence O'Reilly, 'ead chauffer – 'ad drove Eilis 'n the babe ta Galway 'n t'was the last anyone saw or heard from 'er fer eleven 'n a 'alf months Then a telegraph arrived at the castle fer Molly. Eilis was 'omesick somethin' awful, 'specially fer Molly who'd been more o' a Mam ta 'er than aunt. She asked Molly ta come fer Christmas even if it were fer only a couple o' days. Molly rushed off ta Galway that very afternoon ta reply, promisin' ta come."

"And where would she be going?" Laura coaxed.

"Molly didn't say 'n—"

"You didn't ask," she sighed.

"Iff'in' Molly weren't tellin' us somethin' t'was because she didn't want us put in the position o' 'avin' ta lie iff'in we were asked anythin'," Mickeline defended, with more spirit than Laura had attributed to man. The display of hutzpah was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and the elderly man's shoulders sagged. "Wouldn't 'ave mattered iffin she 'ad, as it turned out."

"What happened?" Laura asked softly, already having a good suspicion.

"When Molly left ta join Eilis 'n Sean James, t'were too late. She arrived ta find Eilis 'ad succumbed ta the consumption." She'd been expecting it, but it was still difficult to hear: A young mother – Remington's young mother – gone far too young.

"And Sean James?"

"Gone," he answered with deep sadness lacing the word. "Eilis 'ad been gone a bit more than a week afore Molly got there 'n so far as anyone knew, 'e was alone in the world. Being as sweet 'n smart as 'e was, no one wanted ta see 'im in the 'ands o' the orphanages, being as bad as they was then but it seemed there was no choice. Times were 'ard 'n most were strugglin' ust ta get by. From what was said, villagers tried fer several days ta find someone who could take 'im in, but, ta no avail. 'e was 'anded off ta a woman who said she was from Sisters of Immaculate 'ope, who'd 'eard o' a small lad with no family ta be 'ad."

"Molly couldn't find him?" Laura inquired.

"She went ta the Sisters 'n they said they 'adn't 'eard o' the lad. Were it so or not no one knew, bein' 'ow poor records was in them days. Molly returned broken 'earted, I tell ye, ta lose both Eilis 'n the babe in such a way. Blamed 'erself she did, feelin' like she'd not kept Sean's daughter 'n 'is daughter's son safe as she'd vowed. It was a moment o' desperation, I tell ye, when she sent a missive ta 'is Lordship, 'oping against 'ope that 'e'd discovered the truth o' Eilis's death 'n had swooped the lad away. A bit more than a week on, 'e showed up 'ere at the castle roarin' wit' fury. T'was bad enough 'e'd lost the lad once but ta discover 'e was out there in the world all alone? Twasn't 'til Molly showed 'im the letter from Eilis that 'e believed not a one o' us 'ad known where Eilis 'n the babe 'ad been." A glance at Remington confirmed his eyes were glacial and his jaw was still ticking. With a slow release of her breath, she pressed on.

"What did his Lordship do?" she wondered.

"'e searched 'igh 'n low 'imself at first, then 'ired a bunch of fancy dicks – that's what ye call 'em, right? – outta London. Took 'is Lordship's blunt, they did, 'n neva 'ad nothin' ta show fer it all. 'is Lordship changed after, 'e did."

"How so?" Mickeline gave his head a shake then stood. "Ye'll 'ave ta be asking 'is Lordship that yeself iff'in ye want ta know. I've said too much already." Laura got to her feet as well.

"I give you my word, we won't tell His Lordship what you've shared in confidence," she vowed. She turned to look at Remington. "Will we, Mr. Steele?" He wasn't so foolish as not to know a demand he answer when he heard one.

"Oh, you can count on it," he agreed. Laura's eyes narrowed on him, understanding the underlying meaning: He had no intention of speaking with Thomas again… ever. Tossing the glasses and bottle of wine into the picnic basket and he stood as well. "Miss Holt and I will walk back with you, if you don't mind the company." The remark rendered a silent sigh from Laura. His anger was His Lordship's burden to bear alone, clearly. That he avoided her gaze when she looked at him spoke even louder: A fair share of his anger was directed at her.

"T'would be a pleasure, Yer Lordship," Mickeline agreed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Fergive me fer askin' iffin' I'm out of line, Yer Lordship, Yer Ladyship, but I assure ye I ask only wit' yer comfort in mind: Would you be wantin' me ta have a second room made up, fer yer stay?" Having bent over to gather the blanket, Laura's eyes slanted towards Remington. Surely he wasn't so cross with her as to…

"That won't be necessary," Remington answered for them. "Not only does our current predicament demand we stay together, but we are also recently affianced." Mickeline clapped his hands with glee, as they began making their way back to the castle.

"I knew I be seein' young love afor me eyes. Me Fi used ta say I 'ad a knack fer sniffin' out young love, she did."

"I wouldn't exactly call us young," Laura interjected.

"Speak for yourself, Laura," Remington quipped, momentarily losing sight of his anger.

"I'm not the one on the northside of thirty," she shot back. He clutched at his chest.

"You're a cruel woman, Miss Holt."

"The truth hurts, Mr. Steele." They shared a laugh as Mickeline watched on.

"Iffin ye don't mind me sayin' say so, yer Ladyship, yer Lordship, ye'll be missed when ye leave, ye will. It's a lonely life, it is, ta be born ta serve only ta find ye 'ave no one ta serve 'ny longer."

"Why do you stay?" Laura wondered, her heart going out to the man.

"Family," Remington answered on Mickeline's behest. "Just as you, me and Mildred are a family of a sorts, so are they." He waved his hand in the direction of the castle. "This is all most of them have ever known. They grew up here, as did their parents, and their grandparents before them."

"Aye, we did that, yer Lordship. I've neva known anythin' but 'ere, meself. Just as I've served the family, so did my parents afore me 'n their parents afore them. T'was the same fer Fi 'n Molly."

"And Molly? What happened to her?" Laura wondered, as they reached the walk leading to the castle doors.

"Molly 'as remained 'ere wit' us, Yer Ladyship, not that there 'as been much call fer meals ta be served these last years. Before ye arrived, she'd been keeping 'her time filled assuring the castle maintained the standard o' care the family 'ad insisted on in the past." Laura's lips parted in surprise. Eilis' aunt, Remington's great aunt, still alive and even more importantly right there at the castle. If she could speak with her, the woman was a potential boon of information that might provide a lead to where Remington had gone after his mother died.

Too late, she remember Remington knew her as well as she did him and he'd honed in on her excitement about learning more of his past. She'd summarily found herself suddenly holding the picnic basket he'd held out to her, wordlessly.

"Mickeline, old sport, if you'd been so kind to accompany Miss Holt back to our room? My recovery requires me to stretch my legs a bit each day." Laura bit her tongue before she volunteered to accompany him, fairly certain he'd reject any offer to join him.

"T'would be me pleasure, Yer Lordship." Remington clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'll leave her in your capable hands, then."

With that, he turned his back and walked away down the driveway, not sparing a single backward glance. She closed her eyes, regretting the hurt she'd caused him, even though it had been necessary to uncover the truth.

When he was ready, he'd come to her and, then, she'd do her best to fix the damage done.