They passed Pud, stationed at the door with his shoe, and walked up to the library. Coals simmered in the grate.
‘I went out to the power box to see if I could make heads or tails of this thing,’ said Liam. ‘The lines have been cut.’
‘Nothing to do with the storm?’
‘No, no. Cut clean through.’ Liam appeared stricken. ‘I don’t want to alarm the household; I don’t know what to make of it.’
‘Looks like you’ve enough candles to go around, and I believe you said the power company comes tomorrow.’
‘But who would do such a bloody wicked thing?’
That was the trouble with being clergy-people often believed you knew it all. Then there were those who believed you knew nothing, which had its own set of aggravations.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t imagine.’
‘Of course, of course, righto.’ Liam furrowed his brow, dazed. ‘But thanks. It helps to tell somebody.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Don’t say anything, please; ’t will alarm th’ house. I’ll try to get the ESB out first thing tomorrow, and the Garda, as well. ’t is a right cod.’
Coffee was served in the library, where William had taken up residence at the checkerboard. Seamus arrived from his walk downhill, bringing a scent of pipe smoke and hedges into the room. He felt a certain completeness in this patchwork company.
‘Figs are my favorite,’ Cynthia said when Anna joined them by the fire. ‘And your ice cream with verbena… I can’t find words. It was the loveliest of desserts. Thank you.’
‘So glad you enjoyed it. We want you to be happy here.’ Anna lowered her eyes and said, ‘I’d like to apologize.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For Bella’s attitude. She’s not as gracious to guests as we’d wish. She’s… in training, you might say. I hope you’ll overlook any faults.’
‘You needn’t apologize,’ said Cynthia. ‘We shall pray for things to go well.’
Anna glanced up sharply. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘Your father is a handsome fellow,’ he said.
‘He’s an oul’ dote, yes. He was quite the prize-fighter in his day, and a fine storyteller when you get him started. He also likes to tell of seeing Mr. Yeats’s funeral cortege when his body came back to Dublin in ’48.’
William and Seamus had set up their board and were leaning over it, each with a pint by his elbow.
‘Da has his one pint of Guinness each evening, as does Seamus. They’re two of our more temperate guests.’ He thought her smile engaging, a giving out of herself.
‘By the way,’ said Anna, ‘how’s your jet lag?’
‘I thought we’d cured it with a long nap this afternoon,’ said Cynthia, ‘but I’m fading again.’
‘Let’s go up,’ he said. He would finish the letter tonight and post it tomorrow with the drawing. Henry would be eager to hear and to see.
They said their good nights to all and walked along the stone-flagged corridor and up the stairs. Shadows cast by the chamber stick leaped ahead of them on the walls.
‘This is a dash too Wuthering Heights,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’m ready for the power to come on.’
‘Maybe I am, too.’
He opened their door and set the stick on the night table, grateful to see their bed had been turned down.
‘Tell you what. I’m going to run back and get a flashlight, the one I used this morning wasn’t top-notch. Back in a jiffy, okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Should I close the window?’
‘Leave it open; it’ll be good to have a little fresh air after the turf smoke.’
He had reached the foot of the stairs when he heard her scream. It pierced his heart like a knife, froze him to the spot.
Again, she screamed.
He was up the stairs and across the landing and up the second flight in what seemed an instant.
‘My God!’ he shouted into their darkened room. ‘Are you all right?’
A pale light shone from the hall sconces; she was clinging to the bedpost.
‘Are you all right?’ He took her in his arms.
‘A man in the armoire, he jumped out the window.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘My ankle,’ she said. ‘When he came out, I stepped back and knocked the candle off the table, it was dark…’ Her body was racked by violent trembling.
‘Reverend!’ Liam with a flashlight. ‘Did we hear a shout?’
‘There was a man in the room, he came out of the wardrobe.’
‘God above! Are you all right?’
‘My ankle,’ said Cynthia.
‘Where did he go?’
‘Out the window,’ he told Liam. ‘What’s down there?’
‘The herb garden. What did he look like?’
‘He was covering his face with one hand,’ she said, ‘but I know he was tall. It was so dark…’ She shook like a jackhammer; her teeth chattered as he held her.
‘I’ll send Anna up, and get Dr. Feeney out to have a look-or should we drive you to hospital?’
‘No, please. No.’ She was crying, soundless.
‘The candle is somewhere on the floor. Could you look it up and get a light going?’
‘Righto. For th’ love of God.’
The wick flamed; the room came dimly back to them.
‘I’ll ring the Garda. ’t will alarm the house but can’t be helped. I’m sorry, Mrs. Kav’na, Reverend, I have no idea… Jesus, Joseph, Mary, an’ all th’ saints.’ Liam crossed himself, and disappeared into the shadowed smudge of the hallway.
He helped Cynthia to the green chair, his heart still racing, then turned to shut the window. The smell was familiar to him from his mother’s Mississippi gardens-it was the heavy, languorous scent of crushed mint.
Seven
‘There, now,’ said James Feeney. ‘Nothing broken as far as I can tell.’
The silver-haired, blade-thin doctor was seated on the footstool by Cynthia’s chair, her foot resting in his lap. Several chamber sticks lit the room.
‘But that’s only as far as I can tell. It’s swelling more than a bit. ’T would be wise to have X-rays. That would be best.’
‘No, please,’ she said. ‘Can’t I just stay off it awhile?’
‘My best advice is for X-rays.’
‘Please, no, I’ll do anything.’
Feeney gave a kind of sigh. ‘Then you must stay off it, of course. For some days. Perhaps a boot…’
‘No boot,’ she said, dismayed. ‘I just had one. I promise I’ll stay off it.’
His wife was not known for being a model patient; the doctor’s face registered frustration.
‘You’ll need crutches, then; I can lend you a pair.’
‘Déjà vu all over again,’ she said, quoting a ballplayer whose name she could never remember.
‘There’s no way around the use of crutches unless you confine yourself to your room. And you don’t appear to be a lady who enjoys confinement.’
‘I’ll use the crutches, of course. Thank you, Doctor. Will you forgive me?’
Feeney smiled. ‘Absolutely. We’ll do what we can and hope for the best.’
Through the closed window, voices in the garden below. An occasional arc of light glanced across the panes.
‘Anna, bring a glass of water, please. Reverend, see that she’s given one of these every four to six hours, as needed.’ Feeney rummaged in his case, fetched up an envelope, shook out a pill.
‘You should sleep well tonight, but the pain may give you a fit ’til the medication gets going.’ The doctor stood and took her hand. ‘As in most of our travails, Mrs. Kav’na, patience will be the best cure.’
She swallowed the pill with a long draught of water. ‘I’m a dab short on patience, Doctor, but quite long on endurance.’
‘Can’t I talk you into having it x-rayed? I could take you into Sligo myself, if that would help.’
‘May I just see how it goes for a day or two?’
‘Very well.’ Feeney looked his way, amused. So this is what you live with, he seemed to say. ‘I’m afraid you must give a few minutes to the Garda. They’ve done all they can without having their chat with the eyewitness. Are you up to it?’