Free Doves Migration by Linda Daly Page A

was for her to see something familiar.
When Miranda called Beatrice to the cupboard, Sarah watched the
young Irish woman’s eyes light up. “Hello Beatrice, how good it is to see
you again,” Miranda said. “Come help my dearest friend in the world pick
out a dress to wear to meet her future in-laws--the Carmidy’s.”
“The Carmidy’s you say, miss? Oh, me John loves working for them.
Fine people they are, miss.”
Hearing the servant’s comment, Sarah slowly stepped out of the room.
A sense of peace filled her. No longer did she have to worry that her
daughter would be walking into a situation much like the one she found
herself in. As she closed the door, she paused and leaned against it before
she went down the corridor to hers and Michael’s room.
“Oh, Miss Miranda, I fancy your pale blue one, with the matching
parasol. With your friend’s hair, she will be so striking.”
“Hello Beatrice, I’m Elise. My hair? Oh dear, I must look a fright.
How will I ever become presentable with it all tangled so?”
“I’ll help, miss,” Beatrice offered quickly.
Ah, how wonderful , Sarah thought, at Elise being excited about her
new life. The soft muffled sounds of her footsteps echoed in the hallway as
she stepped into Michael’s room. How wonderful to have nothing more
pressing on your mind but what gown to wear . Forcing herself not to think
about her fears, Sarah hastily changed from her soiled and creased gown.
Looking at the grass stains, she dreamily recalled the look on Michael’s
face when he had seen her and Elise come out of the shop in Washington .
How happy and excited he had been that day. Not yielding to her troubled
mind, Sarah immediately went to the dry sink and quickly washed before
slipping into the pale green silk robe Miranda had loaned her. While tying
the wrap tightly around her, a gentle knock at the door alerted her that the
servant had returned.
Taking a seat at the bureau to brush her hair, Sarah softly said, “Come
in, Beatrice.” Casually stroking her tresses, not looking at the servant, she
added. “My gown is folded in the chair. I fear, though, no amount of
cleaning will restore it.”
“Then burn it, my dear.” From the reflection in the mirror, Sarah saw
Michael smiling at her, and she quickly ran to him. “Oh darling, I thought
you were the maid.”
As he put his arms tightly around her, Sarah knew her husband was
troubled by the way he clung to her. She desperately wanted to ask how his
visit had gone and why he had been so distant the past several days, but
instead of badgering him with questions, she just held him tightly, needing
to feel him near to her too, obviously as much as he needed her.
Feeling her pull away, Michael asked, “Darling where is your tray?
Haven’t you eaten anything?”
“There’s hardly been time. After Jerome showed us to our rooms and
Miranda lent me her robe . . . Besides, that lovely maid, Beatrice, is busy
helping Elise get ready since Joshua is coming for her early. And as you
see, I’ve managed quite nicely on my own. Why not come lie beside me.
You look exhausted.”
Stretching his neck then looking at his wife, childlike he mused, “Only
if you remove your robe.”
Laughing softly, she blushed. “Why Michael Honeycutt. Shame on
you!” As the couple began to kiss, a soft knock at the door alerted them
that Sarah’s tray had arrived. Huskily Michael whispered, “Enter.”
Beatrice, seeing Michael and Sarah embracing, walked in carrying a
tray and sheepishly said, “Mrs. Honeycutt, here is the coffee and strudel
you requested. I’ve taken the liberty of adding another setting for you,
Mr. Honeycutt.”
“Fine, Beatrice, set it over there,” Michael said pointing to a table by
the window. “Mrs. Honeycutt’s dress is folded on the chair. See that it’s
burned.”
“Oh darling, does it have to? I rather hoped to keep it. Beside the fact
that you bought it for me, I have nothing else . .