Donnelly's Promise. Cheryl St.John

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      Ambros returned the folder and closed the drawer with a loud click before going back to his desk. “It’s not your place to question the laws, Darcy. Rulings are in place for a purpose. We have decent jobs here. We have a home. If you must look the other way, then do so. This is our livelihood.”

      His expression told her there would be no further discussion on the subject. Stiffly, she turned and marched from the room, wishing it was this village she was fleeing and not merely her father’s office.

      The only difference between herself and the prisoners was that she went somewhere else to sleep at night. But even at home she cooked and cleaned and did her father’s bidding.

      But not for much longer. She’d been saving for two years. She almost had enough funds stashed away to leave Castleville and start a new life in a place where hard work earned appreciation—if there was such a place.

      She lived for that day.

      Thinking of Vaughn’s compassion for Rory in contrast to her father’s, she pulled the office door closed and went in search of the boy. She found him pouring water into a trough. “Hello, Rory.”

      He pulled off his blue-and-white cap and straightened.

      “Do you think we could speak for a moment?”

      “Long as I keep workin’. Mr. Boyle don’t take kindly to jabberin’ on the job.” He jammed his hat on and untethered the donkey.

      Darcy followed him as he tied the animal in another spot. “Do you mind telling me how you came to be at the workhouse?”

      He shrugged a bony shoulder. “Me da died and the landlord put us out from our cottage. Mother couldn’t find work, so we went to the workhouse for food and beds.” He watched the donkey drink. “Then Mother took sick…and she died, she did. They buried her in a grave with no stone a’tall. I marked it meself when no one was lookin’. A neat piece of cunning, it was.”

      Her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry about your mother, Rory. I…I lost my mother, too.”

      He nodded thoughtfully. “I heard landlords was hirin’ footmen, so I stole clothes. I got caught, though, so here I be.”

      Darcy glanced up and found Vaughn atop the scaffolding in the sun. Their brief encounter had prompted her to act on Rory’s situation, but to no avail. Oddly, she felt as though her failure so far was letting down both the boy and the kind-hearted man.

      She wouldn’t rest until she’d done all she could.

Chapter Three

      Darcy waited until her father fell soundly asleep, then set down her mending and crept from the cottage, pulling a shawl around her shoulders. She prayed as she made her way along the dark path beside low stone walls and across a moss-covered footbridge. She hadn’t been able to rest easy since she’d met the Gilchrist boy at Castle Carraig. “You’ve placed this lad on my heart, Lord, so show me what I must do.”

      An inviting light shone from the cottage where the Donnellys had lived for many years, and smoke curled from the chimney. Her heart beat rapidly, but she approached the door and knocked. It opened almost immediately.

      “Miss Keegan?” Wearing a deep blue sweater, Vaughn collected his manners and took a step back. “Welcome.”

      “I don’t wish to disturb your father.”

      “He’s sleepin’. I’ll join you outside.” He stepped out. “The bonny Darcy Keegan arriving on my doorstep…’tis a thought that never entered my head.”

      Heat rose in her cheeks. They stood near a low fence bordering a pasture. The sound of a lamb bleating reached her. “I spoke to my father about Rory. He won’t hear of leniency.” She added what she’d learned from Rory about his circumstances. “I plan to seek out the Lord Lieutenant and ask what more can be done. I have little opportunity to leave my work during the day, but my father will be traveling to County Galway on Monday. He’ll stay two days.”

      “So you’ll go then?”

      “Aye.”

      He reached for her hand, surprising her. “You’re a kind lass, Darcy Keegan. I’ve always known it. How has it happened no man has asked you to marry him?”

      Darcy’s cheeks warmed again. “My father has discouraged offers.” She wanted to tell Vaughn she believed Ambros sent away all suitors because he didn’t want to lose his cook and housekeeper, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want pity.

      “Perhaps…you’ll join us for supper while he’s gone.”

      Surprised and gladdened by his offer, she nodded. “Aye. I’ll come.”

      He released her hand and she missed its warmth. “How long has it been since you stood on the cliffs at night?”

      “Not since I was a girl.”

      “Well, then, we should change that.” He led her through tall grass and fragrant heather up the steep hillside to a spot where the sound of the ocean crashed below. “Careful now. Watch your step.”

      She tasted salt air and lifted her face to the breeze. “I had big dreams when I stood here as a lass.”

      “What did you dream of, Darcy?”

      “Not the life I have, to be sure.” Embarrassed now at her admission, she turned aside. “I have to go before my father misses me.”

      He extended a palm. “Take my hand, lass. Tell me.”

      The invitation was one she couldn’t resist. Being with Vaughn was like finding a place to belong. He spoke to her and listened to her replies as though she was someone special—someone important. His attention gave her a heady new feeling. Even if their friendship caused trouble, time with him was worth it.

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