Free Liz Ireland by Ceciliaand the Stranger Page A

Cecilia gathered, was all Dolly intended to say about that. “Are you going to bake something?” she persisted.
    Dolly continued to ignore her, but made an abundance of noise as she gathered things she would need. “Bread.”
    A wave of dread went through Cecilia. Given the positioning of her little room, baking bread in the oven meant she baked, too. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, trying to keep her voice chipper.
    The lighthearted tone appeared to be her friend’s undoing. Suddenly, Dolly’s shoulders sagged, then trembled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. She shook her head as she leaned over the sink, and Cecilia could tell by the way the muscles in her jaw clenched and twitched that she was in the final throes of fighting back tears.
    “Dolly, what is it?” she asked, scurrying over. She put an arm around Dolly’s shoulders, but the woman shrugged it away. “Is it me? What have I done?”
    Red faced, chest heaving, Dolly turned on her. “ Done? ” she asked, her voice steely. She dashed an errant tear from her cheek. “I think you know, Cecilia.”
    Cecilia stared at her, stupefied. “If it’s about last night—”
    A sharp accusatory laugh erupted from Dolly’s chest.
    “I know it looked strange,” Cecilia said, but Dolly stopped her by holding a hand toward her, palm out. “I can explain,” Cecilia insisted. “Well, most of it.”
    “Don’t,” Dolly said. “I’m going to have to tell your father the next time I see him, Cecilia. I don’t think you ought to stay here.”
    A flush suffused Cecilia’s cheeks. She was being thrown out. Thrown out. Just like yesterday, when Pendergast tossed her out of the schoolhouse. How the mighty had fallen.
    “You can’t, Dolly,” she pleaded. “It wasn’t how it looked. And you know how my poor father would react. It would kill him, or else he would kill me.”
    Dolly’s mouth remained set in a firm, taut line. And then Cecilia detected a quiver. And then another. And then a cry erupted, a sad little moan. Dolly barely made it to one of the woven-backed chairs around the table before she collapsed.
    “Oh, Cecilia,” she wailed, “you wouldn’t understand!”
    At this rate, Cecilia feared she never would. She hurried over and put a comforting hand on Dolly’s shoulder. “You must explain to me what is wrong. Maybe there’s something I can do to set things right again.”
    Dolly’s head shook to and fro. “You’re so pretty and young, you’ll think I’m foolish.”
    “For what?” asked Cecilia, astonished.
    “For hoping that...” She let the sentence trail off, leaving Cecilia still mystified. “And then, seeing you together...”
    Slowly, understanding dawned. Somehow, Dolly must have sensed that there was something going on between her and Pendergast. Of course, there wasn’t, nothing besides animosity, nothing at all. What a horrible misconception!
    “Oh, no, Dolly, you’re wrong.” As Dolly’s eyes peered at her in hope, Cecilia shook her head decisively. “I have no interest in him whatsoever, nor he in me. Not the kind you mean, anyway.”
    She didn’t know what to say next, but she felt in her heart of hearts it was her duty to dissuade Dolly from pinning her hopes on Pendergast. True, he was a bachelor, of a marriageable age and arguably attractive after a fashion, but Cecilia had serious misgivings about his character. Overall, they knew very little about this man. Also, if she had her way, he would soon be a man with no means of employment.
    But before she could speak further, Dolly said, “That’s not true, Cecilia. Perhaps you don’t like him, but he’s been flirting with you for five years.”
    “Five years!” Cecilia said, astonished again. “But Mr. Pendergast just got here a few days ago!”
    Dolly gaped at her. “Mr. Pendergast? What has he to do with any of this?”
    “But that’s who you mean, isn’t it?” Cecilia asked, perplexed. “Who else—”
    An unbelievable