Page 30 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

“You’re looking well, Maggie,” Brendan remarked as he accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Adams and sat down at the table with them. “And we’re all pleased as punch about Jenny. She’sgetting married next month, right here in the drawing room. Jessamine is putting on a party afterward.”

Maggie didn’t miss the way he said Jessamine, not Miss Jessie, in such a familiar tone. She swallowed her tea along with her jealousy and managed a smile.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” Danny asked. “Miss Jessie’s promised champagne and oysters!”

“I’ll try,” Maggie replied. “It’s very difficult to get time off, but I promise I’ll do my best.” She would certainly like to be there for Jenny’s happy day.

“They keep you busy, then,” Brendan remarked with a long, speculative look, like he was studying her as a specimen, someone distant and unfamiliar. And despite that lurch of recognition when she’d first seen him, now she was conscious of the changes inhim. He seemed older somehow, leaner and maybe a little harder. Just as handsome, but without the former, homely roundness of his face, the comforting slope of his shoulders.

“Busy enough, certainly,” Maggie replied. She felt her cheeks warm under his inspection and she looked away. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard in my life.”

“It suits you,” Brendan stated frankly, surprising her. “You seem… settled, right down into your bones. Like you’ve landed where you were meant to land, all along.” He’d gentled his voice, and there was a tenderness to it that made Maggie bury her nose in her teacup. She couldn’t bear when Brendan spoke to her like he’d loved her once, but so clearly didn’t anymore, especially not with the elegant Jessamine in the picture.

“I think I have,” she finally said, lifting her gaze to his resolutely. He was smiling at her, but she thought she saw a lingering sadness in his eyes, and she felt it in herself. They really had missed each other, in so many ways.

“I’m glad.” He held her gaze another long moment and then looked away first, reaching for one of Mrs. Adams’ scones. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

“You’ll come here with us, won’t you?” her father asked jovially, but with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Even training nurses must get the day off at Christmas!”

“I do have the day off,” Maggie admitted a little reluctantly, not wanting to hurt him, “but I’ve accepted an invitation to spend Christmas with Dr. Brown and her family. You remember the doctor who helped Jenny?” At her father’s blank look, she sighed. “I’ll try to come by here the day after,” she promised. She had two whole days off at Christmas, and she couldn’t wait.

They chatted a while more, until Mrs. Adams and Evie were called away and Danny and her father had some of their mysterious business down at the waterfront to get to, and Maggie was left alone with Brendan.

“I should go,” she said hurriedly, reaching for her gloves. “I have so much studying to do, still, and rounds in the morning.”

“I’ll see you out.” He took her elbow as they walked past the drawing room, the sound of raucous piano music coming from behind its closed door, along with bursts of laughter that made Maggie think of gunfire. She couldn’t keep from tensing a little as Brendan led her to the front steps. “I meant what I said,” he told her as he braced his shoulder against the doorway. “You seem settled. Happy, even. I’m pleased for you, Maggie. Truly.” He paused. “Back in New York, I remember how… how anxious you were, in your striving. So determined to get somewhere, and I admired that. But now… now it seems like you’ve arrived.”

“I haven’t even gotten off probation yet,” Maggie replied on a shaky laugh. She was afraid to show how much his words meant to her. “I won’t find out till after Christmas whether I can continue.”

“I’m sure you’ll be allowed to,” Brendan told her. “I’d say there was no question of that.”

“And what about you, Brendan?” Maggie asked as she buttoned up her coat. “Are you settled here? Happy?”

He paused, squinting into the distance as he considered his answer. “Happy enough, I suppose,” he said at last. “I know it isn’t much. It isn’t what I ever imagined, doing odd jobs at a brothel.” He let out a tired laugh that subsided into a sigh. “But I like it well enough, and more importantly, I feel like I’m doing a service for the girls here. Watching out for them. Making sure they stay safe, or as safe as they can.” He paused, his throat working. “Back in Chicago, you know, I… I let down the girls who worked for that monster Holmes. I know I did. I suspected something formonths, even if I didn’t let myself think about what it could be, and…” He broke off, swallowing hard as he shook his head, overcome.

“Oh, Brendan.” Maggie laid a hand on his arm, her own throat aching with regret. “I’m sure these girls are glad for you here.” She paused and then couldn’t resist adding, “And Miss Jessie too, of course.”

If she’d wanted him to say something of that relationship—and Maggie wasn’t even sure she did—she was disappointed. “I hope so,” was all he said in reply, and he clasped the hand she’d laid on his arm once before stepping back. “Goodnight, Maggie.”

It wasn’t a dismissal, she knew, and it shouldn’t hurt as if it were one, but she couldn’t suppress the sting of rejection as she smiled and said her own goodbye back, before heading down the path to the sidewalk.

When, she wondered, would it get easier? When would she feel that Brendan was what they’d agreed he would be—a friend and nothing more?

Because her weary and aching heart seemed to feel otherwise.

CHAPTER 17

Christmas Eve, 1893

“I hope you will be very comfortable here.”

Charlotte Brown smiled at Maggie from the doorway of the guestroom. It was Christmas Eve, and Maggie had just arrived to stay with the Browns for the holiday. Outside, fog was rolling across Golden Gate Bay, and the air was chilly and damp, as it had been for most of the winter, but the Browns’ house was cozy and warm, with festive garlands bedecking the banister and a tree lit up with candles in the drawing room. After the last four months of rigorous training, Maggie was looking forward to the next few days of celebration and camaraderie.

“Philip and Adelaide have so enjoyed their friendship with you,” Charlotte continued. “And I hope you have, as well.”

“I have,” Maggie replied honestly, and then found herself tensing for what she felt sure was coming next—a gentle rebuke, or perhaps a careful yet pointed insinuation, that she should not get ideas of forming a tendresse for the Browns’ only son, or far worse, of encouraging him to form one for her. It was what Mrs. Stein had done when she’d observed Theo’s interest in her, and Maggie had been unaccountably stung by the clear and firmwarning that the Stein heir apparent would marry, and that it would not be to Maggie.

But Charlotte just smiled, her gaze as warm as ever, and said, “Good, I’m very glad of it. Please freshen up and come down when you’re ready—Philip and Adelaide are like little children at Christmas, and they have a whole evening of amusements to entertain us!” With another smile, she closed the door behind her, and Maggie let out a short sigh of relief as well as happiness.