Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(25)

She was much smaller than he remembered, and her hair was now pure white. But time had painted her gently, adding only a few softening wrinkles across her rosy cheeks, and a nearly imperceptible bow to the formerly straight lines of her shoulders and spine.

Drawing back her lace-capped head, Mrs. Faircloth regarded him with open disbelief. “My heavens, you’ve grown into a Goliath! I would scarcely have known you, were it not for your eyes.” Becoming aware of their audience, the housekeeper released the large young man from her arms and gave the assembled servants a warning stare. “Busy yourselves at once, all of you. There’s no need to stand there with your eyes bulging from your heads.”

Mumbling obediently, the maids scattered and resumed their posts, throwing discreet glances at the visitor as they worked.

Mrs. Faircloth pressed McKenna’s hand between her small, plump ones. “Come with me,” she urged. They went in tacit agreement to the housekeeper’s personal room. She unlocked the door and let him inside, and the familiar smell of clove pomanders and beeswax and tea-dyed linen mingled in a perfume of pure nostalgia.

Facing Mrs. Faircloth, McKenna saw that the housekeeper was becoming tearful once again, and he reached out to wrap his fingers around hers. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I should have found a way to warn you before I appeared so suddenly.”

Mrs. Faircloth managed to master her welling emotions. “What has happened to you?” she asked, staring at his elegant clothes, even noting the polished black shoes on his feet. “What has brought you back here, after so many years?”

“We’ll talk later, when we both have more time,” McKenna said, remembering the tumult of activity on days such as this, when dozens of visitors kept most of the servants at a dead run. “You have a house full of guests—and I haven’t yet seen Lord Westcliff.” He withdrew a packet of wax-sealed papers from his coat. “Before I go, I wanted to give you this.”

“What is it?” the housekeeper asked in bewilderment.

“The money you gave me for my passage to America. I should have repaid you long before now, but—” McKenna paused uncomfortably. Words were inadequate to explain how, for the sake of his own sanity, he’d had to avoid anything or anyone in connection with Aline.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Faircloth tried to give the packet back to him. “No, McKenna, that was my gift to you. I was only sorry that I hadn’t more to spare at the time.”

“That five pounds saved my life.” With great care, he straightened the cap on her head. “I’m returning your gift with interest. Those are shares in a brand-new locomotive foundry, all in your name. You can cash them immediately, if you wish. But I’d advise you to let them ripen a bit more. In the next year, they’ll probably triple in value.” McKenna couldn’t restrain a rueful grin as he saw the perplexed way Mrs. Faircloth regarded the packet. She had little knowledge of stocks, equity, and future prospects.

“There’s no actual money in here, then?” she asked.

“It’s better than money,” McKenna assured her, half suspecting that the stock certificates would soon be used to wrap fish. “Put that in a safe place, Mrs. Faircloth. What you’re holding in your hands is worth about five thousand pounds.”

Blanching, she nearly dropped the bundle. “Five thousand…”

Instead of demonstrating the elation McKenna had anticipated, the housekeeper seemed utterly dazed, as if she could not absorb the fact that she had just been made a wealthy woman. She swayed a little, and McKenna quickly reached out to steady her shoulders.

“I want you to retire,” he said, “and buy a house for yourself, with your own servants, and a carriage. After all you’ve done for so many other people, I want you to enjoy the rest of your life.”

“But I can’t accept so much,” she protested.

McKenna helped her to sit in the chair by the hearth, and sank to his haunches before her. He settled his hands on either arm of the chair. “That’s only a drop in the bucket. I’d like to do more for you. To start with, I want you to consider coming back to New York with me, so that I can look after you.”

“Ah, McKenna…” Her eyes glittered as she laid her work-roughened hand atop his. “I could never leave Stony Cross! I must stay with Lady Aline.”

“Lady Aline?” he repeated, giving her an alert glance as he wondered why she had mentioned Aline in particular. “She can hire a new housekeeper.” His senses sharpened as he saw her guarded expression.

“Have you seen her yet?” the housekeeper asked cautiously.

McKenna nodded. “We spoke briefly.”

“Fate has not been kind to either of Lord Westcliff’s daughters.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Lady Aline told me about what happened to her sister.”

“But nothing about herself?”

“No.” McKenna did not miss the shadow of consternation that crossed her face. “What is there to tell?”

The housekeeper seemed to choose her words carefully. “Not long after you left Stony Cross, she was…quite ill.” Two small, sharp indentations formed between the silvery arcs of her brows. “She was bedridden for at least three months. Although she recovered in time, she…has never been quite the same.”