Page 16 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“I know.” She sighed. “He pays the bills, does he not?”
“Indeed, he does.” He spoke quietly, as if he was sorry to hear such words, but knew they were true. “Just continue with the medication we give him, yes? Continue with the laudanum. All that matters is we help the man. You do not have to like him as you attend to him.”
She sighed deeply. She could not explain to her uncle that this was exactly why she was so upset, because she had liked him, and it was now plain to her just how wrong such a feeling was.
“Are you happy to stay, Orla?” Colm said after some minutes. “You do not stay if you do not want to. You are free to do as your please.”
Orla smiled at her uncle, trying to shift from her anger. Her uncle was always so kind to her, always leaving her life to her own choices, unlike her own parents, who were always ushering her into particular choices in life.
“Thank you. I’ll stay,” she said quietly. “But tomorrow, I’d like to visit my family, if I can? My parents will be worried about me, and I’d like to assure them I’m well.”
“You also wish to issue a warning to your brother, do you not?”
“Was there any doubt in your mind?” she said hurriedly. “Of course, I do. I do not want every other man to suddenly fall down into his sickbed as the baron did. My brother and all the others in those factories work for much longer hours with those chemicals than I expect a baron did. Imagine if they did fall ill? It is too much to bear. And he–” She thrust a hand at the door, her anger rising again.
“Orla,” Colm said in a calm tone.
“I know, I know.” She held up her hands in innocence. “I can do nothing about the selfishness of men like him.” She sighed andmoved toward one of the chairs, about to sit down in it when she saw the cloth upon it again. “Why does the baron live like a hermit? Why does he not even make use of all of these rooms?”
“That is his prerogative if he feels too ill to do so, Orla.”
She secretly did not agree. As far as she was concerned, Baron De Rees wasn’t helped by his own self-pity and confining himself to the darkness and isolation of just a few rooms. She looked around the room and before she left it, decided that a time would come when the room would be full of life again.
If I can put up with Baron De Rees’ company in the meantime, that is.
***
“Ma?” Orla called as she opened the shop door and peered inside. The familiar tinkling of the shop bell sounded overhead, but as she looked into the shop, she gulped, seeing the deteriorated sight once again that made her so sad. Over the last few years, the business had changed significantly.
What had once been a successful hat shop and milliners was now drab and falling into disrepair.
Her father lifted his head from the table at the back of the shop.
“Orla?” he called, his Irish accent the strongest of the whole family. When he stood up, he smiled, hurrying around the table to greet her. “Back already? Aye, I am glad.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.
“Ah, Papa.” She sank into his touch, taking comfort for a few minutes in her father’s embrace before she stepped back and looked at the shop.
She had last been in the family shop about a week ago, and even in that time, much had changed. There weren’t as many hats as before, and there were absolutely no customers.
“Are you open?” she asked, moving around the shop.
“We are.” Joseph sighed, shaking his head and adjusting his waistcoat as he looked hopefully out of the window. “Not that you’d know it. Sarah?” he called toward a backroom. “Orla is here?”
Something crashed out of the back and Orla’s mother appeared a few seconds later, hurrying toward her. She flung herself at Orla so strongly that Orla was nearly toppled over. She was almost the mirror image of her mother, except for the height. Orla was even shorter than her mother, small and lithe.
“Oh, you are back. You have changed your mind,” Sarah said hurriedly, and stepped back. “I am glad. It is right you should marry. Forget this nonsense about healing.”
Orla blinked in surprise.
“Ma–”
“Perhaps you and Frederick could–”
“Ma.” Orla spoke sharply, this time capturing her mother’s attention. Sarah swept nervous hands up to her head, tucking loose locks of her greying hair behind her ears. “I am back to visit. I have not given up on my healing.”
“Oh. I see.” Sarah forced a smile, though it was not a convincing one.
Orla looked at her father for help, but he avoided her gaze. She knew well enough what her parents thought of her chosen occupation.
