Chapter 18 #3
It didn’t help that the day before the girl’s death, Arthur Griffith, acting president of the Dáil éireann while éamon de Valera was in the US drumming up support for the Irish republican government, had called off the remaining hunger strikes.
For ninety-four days, dozens of Irish prisoners had refused food, protesting what they decried as their unjust arrests and trials, resulting in a number of deaths, including most famously, the former mayor of Cork, Terrence MacSwiney.
But the British had shown they were fully prepared to let the Irish starve themselves to death for their cause, so Griffith had ordered the peaceful protest to cease.
“I hate to leave when it seems you might need me.”
This wasn’t the first time George had bemoaned his imminent departure, and I smiled at him fondly.
We were walking slower than necessary, but he was determined not to see my recovery slowed by me pushing myself too hard.
In any case, it allowed the men who I’d spotted tailing us to keep up.
I strongly suspected they’d been sent by O.
They were the type of fellows he liked to employ—seemingly amiable young gentlemen with a cold glint in their eyes.
Regardless, I elected to ignore them as long as they didn’t make a move to harm or intercept us.
“I appreciate that, George, but with Sidney and Max here, I’ll be fine. Besides, your students need you. Who else is going to teach them differential equations and number theory?”
“Yes, but Lord Ardmore is a slippery devil,” he argued. “And I fear he has something altogether unpleasant planned. For you and for Dublin.”
I feared much the same thing but wasn’t about to admit it in those terms. Not when George would lose his position if he didn’t return to Oxford. I chose a different tack.
“To be honest, I’m more concerned he’ll try to get to me by injuring those around me. So as sad as I am to see you go, you’ll be one less person I need to worry about,” I stated bluntly.
George appeared struck by this comment, though I knew better than to think he was insulted. Even so, he took his time in replying. “You think he’ll harm Sidney?”
I should have known he would see to the heart of the matter. “That’s my greatest fear. Though I’m worried about Max and Nimble and all the others as well.” Including Alec.
George fell silent again. He appeared to be studying the remnants of autumn leaves still clinging to the trees beyond the iron fence in the garden at the center of Fitzwilliam Square, but I could tell he had more to say.
I pulled up the roll collar of my Prussian-blue coat, surreptitiously monitoring the progress of the men shadowing us, but they remained at a safe distance.
“I hesitated to say anything because you have enough to worry about, but”—he exhaled—“I caught your maid lingering on the stairs the other day, attempting to listen to one of our conversations.”
This wasn’t the first time Ginny had done so, and I’d been concerned she might still be at it. That she might misunderstand. “Which day was this?”
“The eleventh.”
Armistice Day. I quickly thought back over our conversations that day but couldn’t think of anything she might have misconstrued. Regardless, we would have to be more careful.
“And …”
Hearing the pregnancy in his pause, I turned to look at him.
He gritted his teeth. “I think Kent may be keeping something from you.”
I turned my upper torso so that I could see him more fully.
“I don’t know what,” he demurred, raising his other hand in a show of innocence. “But … I have the sense he feels guilty about something.”
The knot that had formed in my gut loosened. “He feels guilty that I was arrested and he wasn’t. He admitted as much.”
“Then, maybe that’s all it is. But …” He frowned, seeming reluctant to continue.
“There were several hours one afternoon after Ryde and I arrived, but before you were released, when Kent went unaccounted for. It went on long enough that we became genuinely concerned that he’d been incarcerated, too.
And when he finally returned and we questioned him, he was funny about it.
I … I’m almost certain he lied about wherever he’d been. ”
I considered this as we turned the corner to continue our stroll back in the direction of the town house, wondering whether I should be worried or not.
Sidney had undoubtedly been under a great deal of strain, and as much as I trusted George, I wasn’t certain he knew him well enough to judge whether he was lying.
Max, on the other hand, had been his superior officer before being transferred to battalion head-quarters.
If he also thought Sidney had been prevaricating, I would be more inclined to believe it.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” George added when I failed to respond. “But given the fact I’m leaving on the ferry in a few hours and what you just confessed, I thought you should know.”
I nodded, and then offered him a grateful smile, content to leave it at that, for the moment. “I shall miss you.”
His dark eyes warmed with affection. “I hope you’ll be returning to England too soon to miss me, but nevertheless, you know the feeling is reciprocated. And”—the fingers of his opposite hand danced restlessly against his leg—“when you return, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I didn’t miss his meaning. “Oh?”
He cleared his throat nervously. “A fellow professor.”
I smiled, letting him know I understood perfectly. That I’d always understood. And that I was genuinely delighted for him. “I look forward to meeting him.”
He flushed, nodding once and turning away, a shy smile playing across his lips.