Chapter 13 #3
Sidney straightened from his slouch. “Or if I’d refused to let her come to Dublin, or insisted we leave sooner, or sent her straight from Mountjoy Jail to the ferry docks after Barry’s execution, or killed Ardmore when I had the chance …
” His voice had risen in intensity with each illustration, and his body had turned rigid, revealing just how much guilt and anger he’d been suppressing.
“Maybe then Verity would have been safe.”
“Stop it!” I demanded. “Stop it! None of you are to be blamed for that man’s actions!
” I turned to Max. “Or your father’s.” My head swiveled to George.
“Or Smith’s.” I lifted my gaze to meet my husband’s.
“Or anyone else involved with this benighted farce!” I arched my chin.
“Or do you want me to start blaming myself for not figuring things out sooner or caring so much what happens.”
This silenced them, at least for the moment.
I smoothed a hand down my skirt, aware that I was speaking as much to myself as the three men before me.
“We are not going to start tearing ourselves apart when we need to remain focused on the problems at hand. After all, we’re by no means out of the woods.
And wouldn’t Ardmore just love to see us bickering and berating ourselves rather than fixated on destroying him.
” I ground my fist into the opposite palm.
This seemed to amuse Sidney, which had not been my intention. “You sound like Freddy giving one of his speeches before we were going to compete against some of the other lads at Eton.”
I tilted my head in acknowledgment of my older brother’s quirks. “He always did have a tendency toward hyperbole.”
“Presumably he learned to quell that instinct during the war. I can’t imagine the nursing sisters would have appreciated it.”
As a newly accredited surgeon, Freddy had served in the Royal Army Medical Corps during the last two years of the war.
A smile flickered across Max’s lips. “The ones who assisted in the hospital where I was treated for my shoulder wound would have served him tepid tea and made him wear damp surgical garments for being so fiery.”
George’s eyes widened. Having spent his war in OB40 decrypting German messages rather than the Western Front, he was largely unfamiliar with the workings of the RAMC.
“Never abuse your subordinates, George,” I translated. “Or else they’ll find a way to retaliate and make your life very uncomfortable.”
He nodded, not unfamiliar with the notion.
After all, the female secretaries and clerks in OB40 had found ways to make their displeasure known when necessary.
Personally, I thought some of them could have done more to push back.
I certainly wouldn’t have put up with playing secretary to a man who preferred to do his decoding in the bathtub he had installed in his office, but then Olive had wed Knox after the war, so clearly, she hadn’t minded.
I rose to my feet. “My point still stands,” I declared, ignoring Sidney’s probing glare as I crossed toward the sideboard to pour myself a drink. He must have noted the twinge of pain I’d tried to hide. “We need to direct our anger toward the appropriate source.”
There was no ice or lemons with which to make a gin rickey, so I had to settle for whiskey. I took a sip, welcoming the bite as it burned its way down my throat and lit a fire in my stomach. With the second drink a pleasant warmth began to spread through me, blunting the pain.
“I’m safer now that you’re all here,” I said, turning to face the room, my hip brushing Sidney’s as I stood beside him.
Though that didn’t mean they were all safer for being here.
I tried to override the thought. “There’s strength in numbers,” I said, reiterating the assertion I’d made to Sidney earlier.
And ostensibly, we’d recruited several more to our cause, if you counted Anderson and Sturgis.
But then, we might have lost some of the republicans.
I trusted Alec was still with us, but many of the others, including informants like Nancy and Peter at the Wicklow Hotel, might no longer wish to risk helping us.
This realization was lowering, and I tossed back the remainder of my whiskey before setting the glass aside. “I think I should lie down for a while,” I told them, pressing my hand to my abdomen where it ached. It suddenly seemed pointless to put up a brave front. Not with these men.
Sidney instantly reached for me, pressing a warm hand to the small of my back.
“I’ll be all right,” I assured him. “Please. Stay.” I gestured toward the notebook I’d left on the sofa. “Read through Smith’s deciphered words. Maybe you’ll recognize something.”
After all, someone should make progress while I was too weak to do so.
His gaze searched mine before he reluctantly allowed me to go. “I’ll check on you in an hour.”
I nodded, hoping he would find something that made him forget about me. The notion that I might wake to discover that it was all over without my intervention was so appealing I thought I might weep.