Free The Irish Healer by Nancy Herriman Page A

old when I saw you last. I remember you as such a precocious child, running all over the grounds of our house outside Weymouth, trying to climb the lime trees.”
    She motioned toward the settee and took a seat across from it.
    “I tried to climb the lime trees?” Rachel asked, surprised. Not by the fact she might have tried to climb the trees, but that she could no longer remember doing so.
    “Indeed. Father feared you would break your neck!”
    “I seem to have forgotten everything about that trip.” Rachel and her mother never spoke about the last time they’d been permitted to visit Uncle Anthony and his family in England, the memories discarded like a broken dish onto a rubbish pile.
    “It’s just as well. That visit did not end happily,” Claire admitted, peeling off her kid gloves. They were dyed the same violet as her bonnet trimmings and whispered of wealth. Mother had given up so much for the love of a charming, and not particularly successful, Irishman.
    Rachel looked down at her own gown, noticed the tear she had mended last summer, and felt embarrassment heat her skin.
    “I should have asked Molly to bring us tea and biscuits.” A wealthy woman like her cousin would expect such courtesies. “Not that she would necessarily oblige me.”
    “I don’t need tea. I’ve an appointment at Lady Anthistle’s after this and she’ll fill me to the brim with pekoe, trust me.” Claire smiled reassuringly. “Tell me how your family is doing. I must hear everything.”
    As Claire settled in, Rachel obliged, telling her of Mother and Nathaniel and the twins, who Claire had never met. Stories spilled like water over a weir, streaming from Rachel’s too-full heart. Claire smiled and nodded as Rachel talked until she grew hoarse.
    “And your position here,” Claire asked. “Dr. Edmunds is kind to you?”
    “He seems a good man and the position is excellent. I do not know how I can thank you for securing it, especially after all that happened in Carlow. You have taken quite a risk for me.”
    The expression on Claire’s face froze, caught between an interested smile and the growing frown of confusion. “What is ’all that happened in Carlow’ that makes you a risk, Rachel?”
    Realization came sharp as a knife prick. “Mother did not tell you why I had to leave Ireland.”
    “I presumed it was due to financial hardship, a disastrous investment, perhaps.”
    “It was because . . .” Dare she lie to Claire too? She could not. She would not, though the truth pained her. “I was accused of murder.”
    Claire stilled while the air swirled with the word. Murder . The mantel clock chimed inside its glass dome, ticking off the unforgiving passage of time while Rachel waited for Claire’s response.
    Please do not judge me harshly. I could not bear it .
    “But you were not guilty?” Claire asked quietly.
    “I would not be here if I had been found guilty.”
    “Then I do not wish to know more. If you provide me details, then I might have to explain to my family, and it’s best they never learn about this. They already disapprove of everything I do.” Her long-fingered hands twisted her gloves. “What of Dr. Edmunds . . . how much does he know?”
    “Nothing. I was afraid he would toss me on the street without a reference.”
    “He might, if he knew” Claire leaned forward and gathered Rachel’s hands in her own. “I do not care what you did in Carlow, Rachel. All that matters is that you are here now, and I can help you find a new future. God didn’t provide me with this opportunity to heal old wounds simply to have me walk away.”
    What an interesting way to view her troubles, thought Rachel. As an opportunity from God.
    “You will not regret helping me, Claire. I promise you.”
    “I trust not.” She squeezed Rachel’s fingers, a signal of her resolve, then released her grip. Opening her reticule, Claire extracted a folded slip of paper from within and handed it to Rachel. “I have