Unfortunately, Fallon was afraid that because of her heritage, and whatever it was that had torn her and Fallon’s mother apart, might be what would keep her aunt from fully accepting her now. But at least she would try.
However,rather than ring for Ingrid to help her dressimmediately, Fallon found herself drawn to the French doors. They were her favorite part of her new room, for they opened up to the sea. One of the first things she’d done when Eliza had led her here was to open them wide and breathe in deeply of the salty sea air, but when the image of those rolling green hills of Ireland began to tug on her heartstrings a bit too firmly, she’d closed the doors and forced her mind to shut down.
But the urge forjust one more scent ofthat salty air to take withher before she headed downstairswas just too strong, so shestepped out onto the white, iron scrolled balconytogaze out across the horizon. The slight breeze that drifted in had a slight chill to it, but she was oblivious tothe autumn aironce she spiedthe enchanting sunset. The sky had turned into a majestic hue of purple and deep orange that reflectedoffthe dancing waves, which wasdoingitsbest to try and reach land beforeitwas sweptback out to sea.
As she stood there admiring the picturesque scene, shefrowned. She peered a bit more closely and thought shecaught a glimpse of billowing white sailsjust leaving the shoreline.She wondered if Captain Sean Flannery was directing theAlgondaback to Ireland. Fallon’s chest instantly tightened, for while she might have more opportunities here,a part of her would always yearnfortheland of her birth.It was just a part of who she was.
For some reason, the abruptimage of a muscled man with long hair and dark, mysterious eyes standing on the bow of the ship flashed in her mind, but she firmly pushed it aside.While she would reluctantly admit that the image of Atticus Clare as adashingpirate—or aprivateer, as Eliza had claimed—helda certain amount of appeal, the man himself absolutely didnot.
Lifting her chin, she shut the French doors behind her and called for Ingrid.
Her aunt and Eliza were already seated around a massive cherry wood table when Fallondescended the stairs.The seteasily overpowered the room and made for an intimidating showpiece. The top was graced with tall silver candelabras and their glowing taper candles cast an almost eerie glowwith shadows lingering in the corners of the room.Itmade Francine appear even more menacing than beforeif possible, andwhileEliza greetedFallonwith her usual warm enthusiasm, Francine’s welcome was decidedly less receptive.
The butterflies that had been present the momentFallon hadstepped down from the carriageupon her arrival had returned.Shesmiled and attempted to act with the decorum thatwasexpectedof her, but she could feel the tension in the room and any appetite she might have otherwise hadabruptlyvanished. She told herself not to let Francine get the best of her, that perhaps she was also struggling to adjust having a stranger in her home, and not just any stranger, but the daughter of her estranged sister.
Nevertheless, Fallon couldn’tadapt tothesensationthat all during the meal her aunt was scrutinizing her.At one point, even the painting above the brick fireplace seemed to be mocking her. It depicted a gruesomedisplayof deaththat had her hands clenching under the table, for the destructionportrayedpierced that long ago memory in her mind of the dark days of the potato famine when hundreds of lives had been lost in her village alone.
Francinemust havenotedher interest, for shehad remarked evenly, “It’s called theMassacre of the Innocents.It’s an engraving by Paulus Pontius and a reproduction ofRubens second painting of the same name. It depicts the Biblical execution of all male children two years of age or younger in the city of Bethlehem. It was one of my husband’s favorite pieces.”
Fallon resisted a shudder. She couldn’t imagine wanting to own such a disturbingdisplayof artwork, not to mentionspeaking ofit with such a semblance of pride. Perhaps if her uncle might have witnessed such horrors when he’d been alive,he wouldn’t have been so keen to purchase such a horriblescene.
It was just another reason thatFallon was relieved when dinner came to a close and Francine suggested that they take their tea in the parlor. But when she glanced at heraunt,she thought she glimpsed a quick shimmer of mockery in her eyes beforethey moved to the next room.
Fallonchose to push aside her misgivings and found that the parlor had a much nicer atmosphere. Apair of sliding pocket doors opened up intoacheeryexpansewith pale yellow walls and Queen Anne style furnishings;tables and chairs with cabriole legs and upholstered padded seats andevena curved back settee. Fallon took a seat on the elegant divanwhereElizaquicklyjoined her and began to chat aboutSouthamptonand all ofher favorite places to shop andeventuallyFallonstartedto relaxand even enjoy herself,althoughFrancine’s persistent starewas still uponher. However,the lady remained silent and attempted topretend indifference as she sipped on her tea.
After a time, Francine must have grownboredat being left out of the conversation, for sheset down her cup andstood. “I should be turning in. I have a busy day tomorrow. This estate doesn’t run itself, after all.”
Sheexitedwith a tight smileandFallon withheld a sigh as she watched herleavewith an apprehensiveness that must have beennotedby her cousin, as she attempted to engage her further in conversation.
Deep down,Falloncouldn’t shake the continued uncertainty she felt around Francine, and sheknew that if this continued tension kept flowing betweenthem, regardless of Eliza’s attempt at warmth, it would turn out to be a rather long, dreary winter in England, indeed.
Chapter Four
ThenextmorningFallonandElizaheaded out for Southampton tovisit all ofher cousin’s favoriteladies’ shops.Attired in another one of her older, altered gowns, this one a peach muslin, and fully dressed in corset and petticoats, Fallon was drug around behind Eliza. Everywhere they went, her cousinintroducedherto so many people, that by late morning, her head was spinning. So manynamescrowded her mindthat she had no hope of rememberingthem all. Fallon was grateful for the break as she was fitted for her new wardrobe,asher cousinleft her alone temporarily,likelytoflit about andexchange gossipwithmore of her friends.She wondered if Elizaknew everyone in Southampton. Fallon remembered that feeling, for she had developed a special rapport with the villagers in Carraroe.
As the carriage was piled high withbonnets and accessories that her aunt believed that she requiredalong with the dresses and undergarments that would be delivered later,Fallon couldn’thelp but think it was allsuch a waste of an expense, forthese expensive silks and satins would gofartofeedseveral families back home.The need was even greater now that rebellion had broken out once again.
“Why, Mr. Clare! What brings you in today?”
“I’d like to pick out something special for my wife’s birthday and she is most fond of blue ribbon.”
Fallon’s ears perked up unwittingly when she heard the ongoing conversation and instantly her pulse began to pound. The modiste was still offering several suggestions when Fallon returned from the back, and itwas thenthat she realized it wasn’t Atticus that stood out front, but rather an older version of the merchant.
Asthe shopkeeperintroduced them, he smiled and even though age was starting to take a toll on his features, she could easily see where Atticus gained his dark, appealing looks from. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss O’Malley.”
“Likewise, Mr. Clare.”
And then he surprised her by asking her opinion on what she thought his wife might enjoy. As Fallon looked over the fabric bolts with him, she had a few ideas, and in the end, he went with one of her recommendations. “I believe you are right, Miss O’Malley. A new shawl trimmed with this blue will be just the thing. Thank you for your kind assistance.”
As they chatted a bit further, the bell above the door signaled a new customer, but Fallon was so intent on her exchange with Mr. Clare that when another male voice entered the fray, her heart abruptly jumped into her throat.
“So, this is where you wandered off to.” It was obvious Atticus was speaking to his father, but his entire focus was on her. “Always engaging with the prettiest ladies.” He regarded her in the same manner that her aunt was wont to do, but the sensation was entirely different. With Francine, she imagined that something was wrong with her appearance, but with Atticus Clare, he made her feel as though she was attractive—evendesired. “And how are you today, Miss O’Malley?”
Fallon forced herself to act calmly when inside, her heart was aflutter with nerves. “I’m well, thank you, Mr. Clare.”
His father turned to him. “You’re familiar with our new Irish lass?”He offered Fallon a mirthful side wink.
“Indeed,”Atticusmurmured, his dark gaze still swirling with something entirely delicious. “We met the day she arrived.”
