The squire moved forward and handed him his glass and then took a seat in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace. He waved a hand, inviting Atticus to do the same. With stiff shoulders, Atticussat.
For a moment, neither man said anything, just allowed the silence to intrude. “I know I was particularly hard on you when you claimed you were going to be a privateer for England, rather than fight in the Crimean War.” His father said, and thentook a sip of his drink. “I realized how harsh I must have been when you’d returned when themainreason for my upset was because I had heard the word ‘coward’ bandied about when I knew you were nothing of the sort. But I allowed my prejudices to overrule my clear thought. In hindsight, I see that it was a fool’s errand on England’s part. But it was how I treated you so coldly that I lament most. For that, I apologize.”
Atticus slowly sat back in his chair. For all these years, the subject of those days had been pushed to the side. He didn’t recall his father ever speaking of it before now, and it had always caused a certain strain on their relationship because it was always hovering in the background, but never fully addressed.
“Why are you bringing this up now?” Atticus wondered.
“Because I’d like to meet my maker with a clear conscience.” When Atticus’s eyes widened, Wade chuckled and waved a hand. “Don’t be alarmed. I was given a clean bill of health when I saw my physician last month in London, so it appears I will continue to bedevil you and your mother for some time yet.”
Atticussmiled slightlyas he took a drink.
“To answer your question,” The elder Clare continued. “I’ve known of your more recent pursuits against the Crown for some time now, and while I thought it was honorable to take on such a task, even though I feel it will fail miserably in the end for the Irish aren’t properly equipped with the proper avenues in which to perform a successful rebellion, I do admire your ability to raise up an entire country with hope and resistance.”
For a time, Atticus didn’t know what to say. But, since Locklyn had already taken the fall as the Raven and he didn’t think that his father would counter the claim, he said slowly, “How did you find out?”
“As I said, I know my son,” he reiterated. “And working for Parliament in matters of intrigue, along with knowing how much you had been trying to curry my favor over the years, it didn’t take long for metodeduce that you and the Raven were one in the same.”
After this admission sank in, Atticus said, “I guess I should be grateful that not everyone has your ability to solve mysteries, then.”
“Not to worry. I had an alibi prepared should you have been captured.”
“Even if I was on board my ship at the time?”
His father winked. “You should be ready for any outcome. It’s all part of the debate process.”
“I’m impressed,” Atticus said with true admiration coating his tone. “It’s no wonder my mother fell for your charms. She had no other option.”
“No, she didn’t.” His father smiled. He drained his glass and set it aside on a nearby table.“I understand that there is a particular young lady in your life that we will soon have the honor of calling a daughter.”
“You are correct. As long as she will have me, that is.” Atticus swallowed the last of his brandy, enjoying the burn down his throat.
“I don’t think that will be a problem. The apple doesn’t fallfarfrom the tree in intelligence or prowess.” He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “I believe that the Greeks began this formality to symbolize peace and to prove that the other party was not holding any weapons. I have learned that those that are concealed can be as damaging as a steel blade.”
Atticus stood and accepted the offering with a firm, confident grip.
“Promise me that your adventurous endeavors are at an end and I can expect a grandchild by next summer.”
“I am happily prepared to spend the rest of my days on land in a boring shipping office,” Atticus announced. “And as far as the grandchild goes, I am more than eager to grant your request.”
Wade Clare smiled. “Then that’s all I ask.”
Chapter Twenty
Fallon was in her former room at Shawsea Hall,pacing the flooraftershe’d told Eliza that she wished tohave some private time to write to Father O’Leary.Notonlythat,butshe just needed some time alonethat afternoonto fret whether or not Atticus would follow through on his promise to come for dinner.
Or more importantly,tocome forher.
It had eased her mind greatly when Eliza had mentioned that Josephine Stuart was gone and would no longer be an impediment, but that still didn’t mean Atticus intended to propose marriage. He might have mentioned it briefly when she had been in the clutches of the Irish soldier, but since he hadn’t spoken of it again, she was given cause to wonderif it hadn’t just been a ploy to distract her captor.
With her mind whirling with so much conjecture, she had struggled to focus on relaying the events of the past few days to Eliza, who was eager to hear everything. But rather than confide about her yearning heart, she spoke of Mrs. Dailey and her cousin from the boarding house, Mrs. Hinks.
“They sound wonderful. How kind they were to offer you sanctuary,” Eliza had noted.
“Yes,” Fallon had agreed.
After that, she had made her excuses and gone upstairs to sit at the desk where her pen remained poised above the blank parchment in front of her. She honestly didn’t know what to say to Father O’Leary that would atone for leaving so abruptly with nary a word. She knew that he had to be concerned, but she just didn’t know where to begin.
Thus, she was left wearing a path across her rug while her thoughts were clouded with uncertainties.
