She could not keep Finn from her mind. His pain engulfed her. Disillusion was one of the hardest things to bear. If he had been so wrong about the murder of Neassa Doyle and what he believed of his own people, then what else had he been wrong about? What else was lies? If they could murder their own sister, who and what were they? What was the cause they were really fighting for? If Finn had given so much of his emotional loyalty to them, how could he cope with it if they were unworthy of him, or of anyone? How much of it all was lies?
He must be asking himself that now. He would be terribly alone and confused. In one brief quarter hour or so, she had robbed him of his lifetime’s beliefs, belonging to his people, loyalties, angers, all that he thought he was. She should not have done that. Some truths should be told gently, maybe even little by little.
She had no urgent jobs. Charlotte’s clothes were all in excellent repair. And Charlotte certainly did not want Gracie to sit and talk to her, read to her, which was sometimes a real lady’s maid’s job. Charlotte always had more to do than she had time for anyway. But then her life was not like that of a lady. Gracie would find it terrible to look after real gentry after the excitement of being with the Pitts. How did people like Gwen and Doll bear the sameness of it?
She should go and find Finn and make up her quarrel with him. He would need all the friendship she could offer now. And she wanted to apologize. She had acted without thinking hard enough.
The decision was made. She left the ironing room and went to look for him.
He was not in any of the places where he would normally be carrying out his duties. She did not like to ask for him. It was bad enough to imagine people knew how she felt. She was painfully self-conscious. She knew how observant she was of other people’s behavior. There was rather a lot to be said for working with only a casual woman who came in to do the “heavy,” as she did at home. One had a great deal more privacy, even if there was less company, and most of the time less day-to-day interest in others. All told, it was better.
After three quarters of an hour searching, inside and out, there was only one place left, his bedroom. She had never been there, of course. But perhaps on this extraordinary occasion it would be the best place. Even if she were caught, Charlotte would not dismiss her for such a thing when Gracie explained to her why she had gone there. And McGinley couldn’t dismiss Finn because he was dead anyway, poor creature. The worst thing that could happen would be the others whispering and laughing. And even that would be better than leaving Finn to suffer his loss and disillusion without telling him she was sorry.
She looked very carefully to see there was no one around before she ran up the first staircase. The regular Ashworth Hall servants had the rooms nearest the stairhead; the senior ones had the best, naturally. The footmen, bootboy and the like had the smaller ones, further away. Visiting valets and other servants were another floor up again, right under the roof.
But which was Finn’s room? Think! Everything in the servants’ hall went by order of precedence. The servants went in to dinner, sat down, were served, even served the sweet, in order of the importance of their masters. That would make Mr. Wheeler the most senior up here. He belonged to Mr. Greville, the chairman of this miserable conference. Who was next? Be quick! Mustn’t get caught up here. No one was going to believe she was stupid enough to be lost.
Mr. Doyle and Mr. O’Day. That meant Finn and Mr. Moynihan’s valet would be further away, then probably Tellman. The thought of running into Tellman by mistake was enough to knot up her stomach so tight she could hardly breathe!
Maybe it was not worth it after all?
Come on! Don’t be a coward! Take a chance. Try one. Don’t just stand here like one of the pieces of statuary in the garden! Knock!
There was no answer.
She tried the next one, her hands shaking.
There was a moment’s silence, then footsteps.
Her heart was beating so loudly it seemed to pound in her ears.
The door opened. It was Finn.
Thank heavens! Now, what was she going to say?
“I’m sorry!” she burst out.
“Gracie!” He looked startled, and momentarily confused, uncertain what to say or do.
“I’m sorry I told you about Chinnery,” she explained. If she did not say it now she might lose her courage. “I shouldn’t oughter said it out like that. Perhaps maybe I shouldn’t oughter said it at all. One lie don’t make the ’ole cause wrong.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes wide and puzzled.
There was nothing more she could say. She could not deny the truth, and he had no business to expect that. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to have come. But he did look so miserable, surely there was something she could do? Love had to be worth something?
He smiled very slowly.
“You’d better come in.” He stood aside. “If they catch you up here you’ll be in trouble.”
She hesitated only a moment. They had not said all there was to say between them yet. And he was right. Anyone else could possibly go up there at this time in the afternoon. If she were caught it would be very embarrassing. She stepped past him into the room. It was simple, like her own, a place made comfortable for a short time, almost warm enough, a bed with sheets and blankets, a wooden chair, cotton curtains at the garret window, a washstand with a jug and basin, a small cupboard for coats and trousers, a three-drawer chest for underclothes and anything else which might fold. There was a knotted rag mat on the floor. There was a small desk against the wall to the right and a second wooden chair in front of it. There was a paper on the desk now, with writing like a short letter, and beside it an envelope, an open book, a leather satchel, some blue paper and a heap of candles.
He stood still, looking at her.
“I don’t care what anyone says the Doyle brothers did, or what it looks like,” he said a little stiffly. “Perhaps they were wrong when they said it was Chinnery, but the spirit is true. The hunger and the tragedy is real.” He faced her as if she were denying that, his eyes bright and hard, his chin raised a little, jaw tight.
