The Fire's Center Read online

  "I take it you haven’t eaten for a while, then?" the stranger asked as he continued to stare at her pitifully thin appearance, not entirely with a professional interest, he had to admit. She was breathtakingly lovely despite her pallor, with hair like living flame.

  "No, I haven’t," Riona said with a blush.

  "Then will you do the honor to dine with me when we reach Strabane?"

  "But sir, I’m soaked through, and I have no wish to embarrass you."

  "Damn the embarrassment, child, you need to eat. But if it will make you feel better, I shall take you into a private room at an inn where you can get warm and dry. No one will see you there," the stranger said gruffly.

  In truth he had been going to stay the night with his old friend the Earl of Abercorn at his estate Baronscourt, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the girl entirely.

  Furthermore, he was eager to be home in Dublin, where he was just about to open a clinic for the poor in the Liberties area of the city. If he went to see the Earl, he might be forced to linger for days for politeness’ sake.

  "Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dr. Lucien Woulfe, of Merrion Square West. And you are?"

  "Riona Connolly, former governess to Mr. Charles Woodham of Dunfanaghy."

  "A governess. I see. And what other skills do you possess?"

  Riona shrugged. "Cooking, cleaning, sewing, tending the garden, growing herbs. Why?"

  "Because it seems to me that you'll need a post when you get to Dublin. I may be in a position to help."

  "No, really, sir, once I find my father..."

  He quirked one arched dark brow at her. "Try to be realistic, Miss Connolly. What will you do if you don’t manage to find him? Starve in the streets of Dublin, instead of the streets of Dunfanaghy? Live in a workhouse?"

  Riona blushed to the roots of her hair. "I wasn’t telling you my story to ask for charity, sir, merely to pass the time engaged in conversation," she said shyly. She lapsed into silence in the corner, hugging her arms against her chest for warmth.

  She suddenly began to doubt the wisdom of having accepted a lift from him. What if she had fallen into the hands of some vile seducer? Ever since she had entered the brougham he had done nothing but stare at her.

  And what woman wouldn’t fall prey to his charms? He was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her twenty-two years on the earth. How could any female fail to be moved by his good looks?

  Lucien’s black hair fell in thick, lush ebony waves over one eye, swept over from the side, and it shimmered so darkly it was almost blue in color. His raven brows were moderately heavy, and arched gracefully over the most unusual eyes she had ever seen, tawny gold in color, which gave Riona the distinct impression of a tiger stalking its prey.

  The nose was thin, particularly narrow at the bridge, and the tip was almost razor sharp. It was not, however, too large, and suited his thin cheeks, which were completely clean-shaven. He was without the heavy sideburns which were so fashionable amongst the Victorian gentlemen she had seen.

  She noted a firm jaw and chin, which possessed a deep cleft. He had even white teeth which glinted when he spoke, and his rich sonorous voice added to his already ample attractions.

  His stock was of the finest linen, snowy white. Indeed all his clothing was rich, but by no means gaudy. His coat and trousers were black, his waistcoat burgundy silk, but with no fancy embroidery, merely a paisley embossed pattern. The trousers were sleekly cut, and molded against his muscular legs to perfection.

  Here was a man who led a busy, active life. He was, no doubt, an excellent horseman, and a wealthy, successful doctor, Riona judged from his magnificent hands, huge and capable-looking.

  "Do I pass muster?" Lucien asked with a gentle smile.

  "I’m s-sorry for s-s-taring," she stammered with cold and shyness. "I’m must admit, I'm trying to think what could possibly be your motives for helping me."

  No man under the age of ninety could be oblivious to Riona’s ample feminine charms, Lucien thought with a small smile. Her heart-shaped face alone would launch two thousand ships, especially with her wide blue eyes and patrician features which would rival that of any bust he had ever seen in a museum.

  But he was not about to point this out, for she would be out of the coach like a shot. He tried to view her with what he hoped was clinical detachment. She was lovely, but far too thin. Despite her beauty, at the moment she most closely resembled a sodden scarecrow rescued from a mud bath.

  "I’ve told you, I’m looking for someone to help at my clinic. With your knowledge and skills, you might be just the right person," he found himself saying, though his original intention had been to find her a position as a governess amongst his circle of acquaintance.

  Riona frowned, and huddled more tightly into the corner of the seat. "What knowledge and skills do you think I possess that would be of any use to you?"

  "For one thing, Miss Connolly, you can obviously read and write. You can cook and sew, and you told me that you've grown plants and herbs. I'm willing to wager that you've knowledge of all sorts of useful remedies I could use in my new clinic."

  She nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, before she passed away my mother did teach me a great deal of what she'd learned over the years."

  Lucien smiled, rendering his stunning face even more incredible. "You see, I knew it. What could be more perfect for you than working at my clinic?"

  Riona considered all he had said in silence for a moment before replying, awed by this dazzling man and her incredible good fortune. At length she admitted, "Well, if I can’t find my father, I suppose I shall have to find a post somewhere as governess in order to send money home to my brothers and sisters. We've been doing our best to live frugally, but it’s so hard with all of them to feed and prices being what they are for the little that's to be had. I didn’t take more than a pound out of our funds, just in case they should need anything."

  He sat back with his arms folded, as if the matter were completely resolved. "If you give me the name of the establishment and their address, I shall send money to the bank in Dunfanaghy for them. That way they needn’t wait. In exchange, all you have to do is promise to work for me for a month.

  "At the end of that time, if you’ve found your father, all very well and good. If not, then you can stay on with me if you like. Or I can make enquiries for you for a post as governess, if the work I give you doesn’t suit," he proposed.

  It sounded wonderful. Perhaps too good to be true? "Oh really, sir, I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble."

  "It’s no trouble at all. I shall give you food and lodging, and some clothes for work, so you may keep your pound for any little necessities you might need. I shall send the rest to your family. If you earned, say, sixty pounds a year at your old job," Lucien said, quoting an impossibly high figure, "I shall send five pounds, which will represent one month’s salary."

  Riona laughed incredulously. "Really, sir, I've never earned that much in a year in my life."

  His brows knit slightly. "Your honesty does you credit, even if it is a bit foolish given your current plight. You'd earn that in a good family in England. And I don’t cheat my workers," Lucien said.

  He now resolved to send not just five pounds but twenty-five. He hated to think of her family worrying, scrimping and saving. It was a miracle as many of the Irish lower classes had survived as they had, if all the reports he had heard about the severity of the Famine were true.

  Reluctantly, Riona agreed to his proposal. "Well, thank you, sir. I’ll do my best to please you."

  "I warn you, though, I have only a humble bachelor’s establishment."

  "No family?" she asked shyly.

  He shook his head. "My mother died when I was small. My father passed several years ago and left a couple of properties to me and my brother. My old uncle Oliver lives in the family home down in Wicklow, and I have a town house. My aunts have a property north of the capital. My brother has a family, but I don’t
really see them very much. Always busy with work, you know," he explained.

  "One brother?" Riona asked, marvelling at the small family.

  "Yes, two years younger than myself, called Quentin. He’s married to Antoinette. They have two children, a boy, Neville, who is eight, and a girl, Lisette, who's seven. Who knows, perhaps they might need a governess one day soon? The woman they have now is fine for the moment, but she is rather old and cranky," Lucien said with a laugh.

  "Well, perhaps. That would be a wonderful chance for me. I'd love to go back to Donegal, of course. But at the same time, there might be all sorts of opportunities for me in the city if I work hard."

  She looked so earnest and innocent, he didn't dare remind her that there would also be plenty of opportunities for women who didn't wish to pursue manual labors…

  "Tell me about your family," he requested, leaning back against the leather seat as he continued to gaze at her exquisite face.

  "I wouldn't like you to think that we're all feckless, not willing to work hard," she said promptly. "It's just that I'm the eldest now, out of the twelve of us, and with Mum gone and Pa away I had to do something."

  His brows lifted. "Twelve?"

  "Yes, with me in the middle."

  "You said the eldest now. Can you tell me about it?" he probed gently.

  Riona looked out the window, feeling as though she could barely breathe. But something about this man by her side was so compelling, she could hardly refuse his request. She took a deep breath, and began.

  Chapter Two

  "The Famine has been a disaster for Ireland, I know, but my family has truly suffered," Riona said as she began to tell Dr. Woulfe more about herself.

  "We used to all work on a splendid estate outside Dunfanaghy. My first three brothers, Padraig, Seosamh, and Martin, worked as fishermen. Number four, Michael and myself, followed in our father’s footsteps to become school teachers.

  "Our landlord, Mr. Woodham was a father of five, and a widower. He didn't care that, well, that we're Catholics," she said, blushing. "He thought Michael and I were educated enough for his three boys and two girls. Father taught in the local state-run school. The rest of the family worked on the estate as well. My four sisters and mother all earned a living with their needles and other domestic chores around the estate. The youngest boys, Finn and Earc and Bran, were carpenters, though Bran, the youngest, is still school-aged."

  "It sounds like an ideal place. What happened?"

  "One day Mr. Woodham told us that the taxes on the estate had been raised, and he would have to sell up. Suddenly our home and our livelihoods had vanished overnight. The potatoes had failed, and the land was cleared. The lovely cottages we had been living in had been razed to the ground."

  He stared at her in shock. "That's terrible! You had no choice but to leave?"

  Riona shook her head. "None at all. We had to find somewhere we could afford quickly, and jobs if we could. Perhaps a patch of land to grow vegetables on. But there was nothing. All fourteen of us, plus Padraig’s wife Nuala and their three small children, and Michael’s wife Emer, who had been expecting their first child, were all forced to move a small fisherman’s cottage barely large enough for four people, let alone eighteen."

  He shook his head pityingly. "How on earth did you manage?"

  "My brothers built a second storey into the roof of the cottage, but it was terribly crowded and very uncomfortable. At least it was warmer up there with all the unmarried boys and girls sleeping side by side, huddled together for warmth. Down below the wind whipped unmercifully under the splintered door, and the stone floor ran with damp. The married couples slept down there with the children, so they wouldn't get hurt going up and down the ladder."

  "It must have been very hard for you," he said, offering her a bottle of ginger beer from the basket of food he had had packed for him at the inn they had changed horses at.

  She took it with a nod and drank thirstily. "It was. For a time we did the best we could, fishing and then trading the surplus catch for other foodstuffs. But there was little anyone had worth trading. We avoided buying food, for we wanted to conserve our small hoard of coins for as long as possible."

  "Very sensible."

  "Then disaster struck in the village, with an epidemic we began to call relapsing fever, a strange disease which often killed just as the person seemed to be recovering. "Padraig’s three small children, his wife Nuala, and my mother, who insisted on nursing them night and day, all succumbed to the fever, as did one of my older brothers, Seosamh, and one of my younger sisters, Eilis."

  "My God. I had heard how harsh conditions were," he said, taking out a small pocket notebook and pencil and beginning to jot down notes, "but you're the first person to survive through such a thing to give me actual details."

  She stared at him open-mouthed.

  He caught her look of consternation and began to apologize at once. "I'm sorry, Miss Connolly, I don't wish to appear callous. But the more information we doctors have about the famine and diseases it seems to have brought, the more lives we may be able to save."

  "I suppose," she said stiffly.

  "So all the people who slept in the downstairs area of the cottage succumbed, you say?"

  She thought about it and nodded. "Yes, for the most part."

  "And the others? Forgive me, but you did mention that you were the eldest now. What happened to, I believe it was Padraig, who was the eldest?"

  "He and Martin drowned in a shipwreck."

  "Oh no. I'm so sorry. And what of Michael and his wife?"

  Riona swallowed hard. "Emer died in the childbed, of fever. The infant was stillborn. Michael lost his wits and ran from the cottage. My father Declan decided to try to go after him. So he packed up and went to Dublin to search, and for work."

  "What a dreadful tragedy. I find it remarkable that in those conditions as many of you were spared as there were. I hear there is even typhus up in Donegal."

  She nodded. "There was. I nursed everyone as best I could, and they got well."

  "And you didn't take sick?" he said, staring at her as though she had sprouted three heads.

  "No. I was very fortunate. I spent a lot of time out in the fresh air looking for food. We tried to avoid the town as much as possible. But with no word from Father, well, someone has to try to find him."

  He nodded. "I understand. I just wonder how your family will manage without you. I mean, I've promised to send the money and I certainly shall, but you must have been a good nurse."

  "I did my best," she said humbly. "Mother had the gift of healing, God rest her."

  "Well, I most certainly hope she's passed it onto you. Every day we get more and more fever patients struggling into the cities looking for work or poor relief. I believe the more crowded the conditions, the faster the fever spread. Yet to try to convince some of the more stodgy members of my profession of my opinion, and they act as though I've grown horns and a tail."

  Riona laughed despite herself, and lapsed shyly back into silence once more.

  Lucien made a few more notes, then looked up at her. "But where are my manners? I'm constantly being berated for forgetting about anything other than my work. Would you like more to drink? I'm sorry there's no food left in the basket, but we'll stop soon."

  "I'm fine, thank you."

  "I'm sorry there's no glass to drink from."

  "It's quite all right. Beggars can't be choosers, as the phrase goes."

  His brows knit. "Not any longer. You have a position now for as long as you need it. Or can stomach it. Between fevers and childbirth, you must be exhausted."

  She shuddered at the recollection of her sister-in-law's sufferings. She had been unfortunate, she knew, but it was a specter every woman had to face...

  "Why don't we talk about something else now," Lucien suggested, noting her increased pallor. "The St. Patrick's holiday has just passed. What special things did you do for the day?"

  They continued to make s
mall talk with one another the remaining miles to Strabane.

  Riona was astonished at how easy she found it to talk to such a fine gentleman as Lucien Woulfe. He seemed so unaffected, without airs and graces of any kind, though it was evident he was vastly wealthy if the carriage and his clothing were anything to go by.

  Lucien, for his own part, was even more astonished at how easy Riona was to converse with. He was able to account for this by observing to himself that since she was of a lower class than himself, it was less threatening than having an unguarded personal conversation with a woman of his own standing. All of them viewed him simply as an incredibly eligible bachelor and a noble enough conquest.

  This young woman was a good listener who seemed genuinely interested in all he had to tell her. It wasn't long before he reverted back to his favorite topic and mentioned his new clinic.