Chapter Seven
Winnifred’s mind was heavy. Who was asking so many questions of the people in Kinnelow?
And why? Mrs. Devon, who had taken her in after the Hunger left her without a family, had written to Winnie with great concern.
“They are asking very prying questions about Fred.” She’d listed a few: everything from who his parents were to who his schoolteacher was.
These questions were being posed to people throughout the village.
While Winnifred had little concern that the people of Kinnelow would intentionally betray her, the more people who were pulled into this deception, the more likely it was to be accidentally revealed.
What had brought on this interrogation? Had someone seen through her disguise? Suspected something odd about Fred?
She sat at her dressing table Sunday morning, too weary and tired to make her way to church.
She had put on her proper corset and a dress, but she hadn’t yet pulled her hair up nor pinned in the hairpiece the village had created for her before she left for Dublin, one that mimicked the look of a bun.
It allowed her to appear as though she hadn’t cut her hair off in preparation for the ruse she had been undertaking for nearly four years.
At the moment, she had the strange look of Winnie and Fred melted together.
It was fitting. She had been Fred for so long now that she sometimes wondered how much of him had become a legitimate part of herself.
She’d always been social and outgoing, but she found herself increasingly more comfortable being alone.
She often longed for the quiet of her flat when she had once found such a degree of isolation to be suffocating.
And yet, she didn’t like being so lonely.
It felt almost as though she didn’t know who she was anymore.
A knock sounded at the door below. Who would be calling on her on a Sunday morning?
She was ill-prepared to have any visitors.
With her hair hanging loose, exactly the way Fred wore it and not at all as she usually did, and without the hairpiece to make it seem as though it were quite long, she might very well give away the game. But there wasn’t time for securing it.
For a moment, she scrambled to think of a solution. In the end, she reached for her cotton cap and pinned it on her head, tucking her hair back into it as best she could. It was not the way she would prefer to receive a visitor, but it was the best she could do with so little warning.
Somewhat put together, she made her way down the stairs and to the door. As she opened it, she discovered Liam standing on the other side.
“Forgive the disruption,” he said. “I am suddenly realizing how early I am calling. I’d hoped to speak with your brother.”
Botheration. “He has gone to church.” Good heavens, now she was even lying about church.
“Again, I realize it is early, but with your brother gone, may I speak with you instead? It is of utmost importance that I share some critical information with the two of you.”
Worry began to tiptoe through her. She pulled the door open and motioned him in. He went directly to the parlor, apparently remembering where it was from his last visit. Utilizing the manners she had found were innate to him, he waited for her to be seated before sitting himself.
“I will confess, Liam, you are worrying me a little.”
“I wish there were a means of conveying this to you without causing you worry, but I suspect there is not.”
Merciful heavens, more bad news. It was the last thing she needed. But not hearing it wouldn’t make it go away. So, she motioned for Liam to tell her what he’d come to say.
“Did your brother tell you about the letter he received?”
“I have read it,” she said. It was a more accurate answer than simply saying yes.
“He seemed very upset about it,” Liam said. “And he seemed particularly worried about the reasons for the questions that are being asked in your home village.”
Winnifred nodded, unsure what Liam could have to say that touched on this topic.
“I believe I know who is asking the questions,” Liam continued. “Or at least, who is having the questions asked.”
“You do?” That seemed unlikely.
“Dr. Poole is, as I understand, a newer member of the faculty of the medical school.”
“He is.” Winnifred, as Fred, had attended a number of his lectures. Dr. Poole had spoken to her a few times as well.
“Word has reached Rev. MacDonnell, the provost of Trinity, that changes are likely soon to be made regarding the governance of medical schools in the United Kingdom. There’s a great deal of concern about the scrutiny that might be brought down on Trinity as these changes are considered and enacted.
In what is likely an overabundance of caution, the two of them are looking into anything and everything that might be at all unusual or wrong in the medical school. ”
“At risk of seeming to quote you from our lunch at St. Stephen’s, I don’t understand.”
Liam stood and paced away. Apparently, whatever he meant to tell her he found uncomfortable or difficult. “Dr. Poole has questions about your brother.”
A weight settled in the pit of her stomach. “About Fred?”
Liam nodded slowly, with emphasis and palpable tension.
“I wish I could tell you precisely what it was he found concerning about Fred, but even he doesn’t know.
He simply feels there’s something unusual about him.
His worry about the school coming under scrutiny has made him almost ridiculously vigilant about any and every inconsistency. ”
Winnifred tucked a loose chunk of hair back up in her cap, thinking, trying not to worry. “And this is why he’s been interrogating the people of our village? Attempting to find something about Fred that is . . . wrong?”
“It would seem that way.” Liam paced past her chair once more. The lines of his face were made sharp with concern. She didn’t think he felt this close to Fred. Perhaps his concern was for her.
“Fred is an unusual person,” she said. “Dr. Poole will likely find that is the impression our village has of him as well.” How she hoped that was what the professor was told of her brother.
“There is a tenacity to Dr. Poole’s investigation that tells me he will not stop at that explanation.”
A question began creeping into her mind that she could not readily dismiss. She stood, slowly, and stepped into the path of the circuit Liam was making. She met his eye. “How is it that you know so much about this?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his posture grew evermore uncomfortable.
She tucked back another chunk of hair that refused to stay up in the cap. “Liam?” She didn’t like that he hadn’t answered. It did not bode well.
“They told me about their concerns,” he said. There was worry in his expression still. He was not telling her everything.
“Why did they tell you of it?” she pressed.
He pushed out a breath, tense and weary. “I have a mind for mysteries.”
“Yes, I know. The founding member of the Conundrums Club.”
He took a large step back, allowing him to continue his pacing around her. “There is a mystery to your brother, which they couldn’t solve. They needed someone with a knack for puzzles.”
In a flash, the horrible truth became clear. “You are part of their investigation.”
Liam turned to face her and held his hands up in a gesture of supplication. “They only asked me to talk with Fred and see if I thought there was anything unusual or worrisome about him. I told them I didn’t think there was.”
She turned away, rubbing at her forehead. “And is that what you were doing when you called here the first time? Investigating?”
“In part.” He spoke with the tone of one who had been caught out at something he would rather not admit to having been doing.
He hadn’t, then, come for strictly friendly reasons.
“Your apology was a ruse.”
“No,” he said, plaintively. “I truly did have an apology to make to Fred. That it afforded me an opportunity to come visit him here was a benefit but not the reason.”
“A benefit to your investigation. To your efforts to determine what was ‘wrong’ with my brother.”
He turned to her with an expression of absolute pleading. “I first made your acquaintance and Fred’s as a result of this assignment, but it is not why I have continued these connections.”
“I do not think it matters why you have continued,” Winnie said. “It has to stop. It must stop now. My brother is in more danger than you know, and you are contributing to it.” She rose and moved swiftly to the door, pulling it open. “You need to leave, Mr. Rafferty. You need to leave now.”
“Winnie, please—”
“Go,” she said. “If you have any drop of human kindness in you, please. You are making a difficult situation far worse.”
It seemed for just a moment that he meant to argue further but then thought better of it. Head hung low, he left. She closed the door behind him and rested her head against it.
Liam had been investigating Fred. Her first friend in four years. The first man since she’d come to Dublin to touch her heart in any way.
And it had been a lie.
She knew she was not innocent of being deceitful. But that only made the situation worse. She had let herself imagine something tender and sincere between them. But what connection could there truly be between two people when neither of them had been telling the truth?