“Yes,” Father Colgan said thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. Well, you’ve quite given me something to think about, haven’t you? I don’t recall coming across the like before. And you say you don’t want to take money from your father?”
“No,” Lydia said firmly. “Even if Papa could make arrangements to have money sent to me quickly, I’ve already decided to do this on my own. Foolish pride, perhaps, but there you have it. I’ve always been able to depend on Papa’s money to get me anything I wanted—or get out of any difficulty. I think it’s time I managed on my own. My father will understand.”
Dark-red brows arching above his eyes, Father Colgan absently pushed his spectacles up his bent nose. “Do you really think so? Irish has waited a long time to support you. I’m not certain what you mean by being able to depend on his money.”
“I’m not speaking of Irish, Father. I’m talking of my papa—Samuel Chadwick.”
“I see…I think.”
“I don’t want anything from PapaorIrish.”
“And your husband?”
Lydia’s smile was gentle. “No, Father, nothing from Nathan. I would never ask.”
“Your mind’s set on independence, then.”
“Yes. As near to it as I can achieve. Will you help...”
Father Colgan took off his spectacles, folded them, and set them gently on the desk, glass up. He rubbed his wide brow with a thumb and forefinger. “Your place is with your husband, Mrs. Hunter. I believe that strongly.”
“I’ve explained—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “And I’ve listened. It’s only because I’ve known Irish and Nathan as well as any man can that I understand what’s brought you to this pass. I still say you belong at Ballaburn with Nathan. You loved him when you married him.”
“Things have changed—”
“So most of them have,” he agreed, “but not that one. Unless these eyes of mine are much worse than I suspect, you’re still in love with your husband. It’s all right. You don’t have to deny or confirm it. Let this old man believe what he will. In spite of what I think, in spite of what you think, I’m going to help you, Mrs. Hunter.”
Lydia stopped fidgeting. Her eyes closed briefly as she said a silent thank you. “I lit four candles before I came to your office,” she said.
The priest smiled. “I know. I saw you.” He clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “Have you an idea of what sort of proper position you would like? Something in a store? A clerk, perhaps? If you have some skill with a needle, then I know a woman who is always looking for seamstresses for her shop.”
“Actually I was thinking of something here, Father. At Saint Benedict’s.”
“Here?” He thought about that. “I already have a housekeeper and the sisters see to the church. The heavy work is done by our male parishioners.”
“I was thinking of the school.”
“The sisters help me with the school as well,” he said. “Why? Do you have some training there?”
“Not training, but experience.” She described her work at St. Andrew’s Orphanage to Father Colgan and he listened attentively. “I’d work very hard for you, Father. I did for Father Patrick and he was very happy with what I could do in the classroom.”
“I imagine he was,” he said noncommittally. “Tell me, have you given any thought to where you’re going to live?”
“I have enough money to stay at Petty’s Hotel for a few months even if I don’t find a position. I exchanged my…umm…my wedding ring for some money.”
“I see.”
Lydia hurried on. “I know a position at the school wouldn’t pay very much, but eventually I’ll find another place to live. There aren’t many things I need, Father. Food and shelter, a few books, and a purpose. I can manage with those.”
“Sister Anneisgoing to a mission on Fiji soon,” he said, thinking aloud. “And Sister Isabel has many other duties. I suppose there might be a place for—”
“Ohthank you!I promise you won’t regret this. Shall I start this afternoon? I can, you know. I think I even remember some of the names of the children from the one time I helped them. I’m quick at that sort of thing.”
Lydia was on the edge of her chair now, her excitement bubbling. “Or would you rather I go to Petty’s first and change out of these dusty clothes? That might be better. The children are used to you and the sisters, all perfectly neat and pressed. I probably look shockingly disreputable. I wonder if they may call me Miss Chadwick? If I’m to use my married name it’s bound to raise questions and eyebrows. I really think it would be—”
Father Colgan held up both hands this time, in part to halt Lydia’s rush of words, in part as a symbol of surrender. He was grinning widely. “Enough, Lydia. Enough. Your enthusiasm does you credit, but let us try to temper it a bit. You will start your duties in the classroom on Monday next. The children will return to school then. We had a small, er, altercation among the students yesterday and I’ve dismissed them all until I can speak to each of the parents.”
