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Early in the summer of 1881, Philo sailed into the Firth of Forth to Leith, the port for Edinburgh, and picked up Bart for a crossing to Boston. European merchants were clamoring for American-made shoes, considered the best in the world. With the help of Ardie and Bart, Philo hoped to contract for thousands of pairs direct from New England manufacturers. He planned a return to Europe in August.
Beth joined them, with the Empress Eugénie's approval, looking forward to a refreshing holiday in Johnstown with her parents.
She stopped over a day in Boston, then boarded the train for home.
Ardie was more in love with Irene than ever. Despite his pleasure in the company of his father and brother, he became morose at the thought of leaving her behind, even if only for a few weeks of travel around New England to arrange contracts.
Annie suggested privately to Philo that Ardie be allowed to take Irene along. "Frankly, I'd love to have some time with Bart," she explained. "And I wouldn't mind a little vacation from Irene! I don't mean to criticize her, Cap'n, but....."
"I understand, Annie," Philo said. "I'll tell Ardie how much I want to be with him, which is true, and how wonderful it would be to get to know Irene again. I do not like the way she has, in her way, separated Ardie from the family, but I am no better for having made myself so much a stranger in all your lives. A little lie to preserve family harmony may not be such a bad thing in this case."
To Bart's surprise, Bridget and Michael still worked at the house in Louisburg Square. She had married the coachman, and they lived happily in a charming flat in Rollins Place, higher up Beacon Hill. Other coachmen employed by the wealthy denizens of the Hill lived in the same area, their homes provided for them as a benefit.
Bart encountered Bridget in an upper hallway one morning. Carrying an armful of downy pillows, she was on her way to air them on the roof.
"Let me help you with those," he offered.
"Nay, sir," she refused with a smile, "but if you'd be takin' that pile o' summer quilts in the doorway and comin' behind me, we'll hang them out, too."
On the roof, they strung the handmade quilts on lines and clothes-pinned the pillows in between. They chatted with the intimacy of old friends who haven't seen each other for a long time, but who pick up a conversation as though they had never left off.
"Has it worked out well?" he asked. "I've thought about you so many times."
She smiled. "Faith, 'tis a good marriage, Master Barton Creel, or should I speak to you as Miss Beth was heard to do, callin' you 'Doctor Bart'?"
He grinned at her. "Everyone does indeed call me Doctor Bart these days, although it isn't yet an accomplished fact. I've a couple of years of schooling to go, and a couple more of internship as well."
"Ha! You're Doctor Bart to me, then," she laughed. "Truly, 'tis a dream comin' true! There you are across the sea, not just a student, so I hear, but a proper lord, consortin' with queens and such."
Her smile faded. "I saw how you looked at Miss Beth when she was here. She's still the lass o' your dreams, fer sure, but she's no bicycle girl anymore. Does she love you, Doctor Bart? "
Bart turned away and gripped the railing, staring up at the sunny sky. He stood there silently for awhile. Directly, he felt her hand close down on his as it had on a night long ago, and her voice drifted softly over his shoulder as it had then.
"Don't talk about it, love, if you don't want to, or if you can't," she said. "Just let me tell you that in me heart I pray fer your happiness every day o' my life."
Wise woman that she was, she went back downstairs and left him alone.
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