Rescuing Mr. Gracey Read Online Free PDF

like water toward the natives, it disintegrates once they touch it. Your own family donates food, clothing, and money to the Banbridge workhouse, yet the natives complain there is never enough.”
    His stomach twisted with bitter bile. Lowering his head, Alec clasped his hands behind his back.
    “Why do they stay in Ireland?” Bender added. “It is beyond logic. Landowners graciously and frequently pay the ship passage for previous tenants who are unable to meet the rent. In spite of that, they refuse the opportunity. Most of the natives cannot even manage their own children. However, they desire political power and a vote. Can you fathom the disaster should these people run the nation? Imagine the barefooted natives hosting foreign dignitaries at Dublin Castle.”
    The Graceys’ elegant manor, nestled atop a landscaped hill as if to remind him of his lofty place in society, came into view. With each step heavy, Alec neared the outer gate.
    “I must also warn you, sir, that if her family discovers your wealth, considering her poverty, they may use even the one excursion into Dolly’s Brae against you. Obviously such a leak that you visited a Catholic gathering, especially in this political election, will ruin you.”
    The last fortress fell. Alec growled with frustration. All his reasons for seeing her—stacked as a pile of unstable blocks—toppled.
    Attending a Catholic dance in the middle of a Catholic village with her Catholic friends and family was beyond reckless. And for what purpose? It could not go beyond one night.

~ 3 ~

    “To walk all round Lord Roden’s park,
      and right over Dolly’s Brae.”

    The cracked mirror did nothing to encourage Mary about her appearance. Instead, her warped reflection seemed to amplify the dreaded freckles and her faded dress. Perhaps a bit of blue ribbon.
    “Mary, darling,” her father, Joseph Smyth, chastised. “The good Lord created the entire universe in as much time as ’tis taking you to comb that hair.” He tapped on the tattered cloth that separated her small alcove from the rest of the stone hut. “We’re going as a family, and you’re keeping us all waiting.”
    Clumsy fingers reknotted her long hair into a bun, then twisted the blue ribbon round and round the top. “Coming, Dadai .”
    Once more studying the reflection, Mary groaned. The effort had not improved anything. She ran her hands down the blue linen dress, acknowledging that Sean Dennison would not be impressed. Though the gown hugged her waist, dipped at the neck, and even had matching blue slippers, he saw it every Sunday.
    “Mary, we are still waiting.”
    Ripping off the ribbon, Mary let her hair tumble freely over her shoulders. She fluffed and fanned until the cinnamon strands caressed her oval face and waved down her back. Perhaps the fairies will sprinkle dust about Sean Dennison. She shrugged and flipped the thin curtain that gave her privacy.
    “Finally,” piped her older sister, Agnes. “Ya think she’s intendin’ t’ woo some gran’ prince or somethin’.”
    “Agnes, watch your accent, girl,” her father teasingly reprimanded. “Remember, you benefited from the best education available to a native child—that of your own father.”
    Everyone laughed except his wife.
    Maureen Smyth, the family matriarch, sat proud and upright in her chair. “Aye, count your blessings that Athair ’s gift of knowledge passed on to you.” She folded her arms and huffed. “St. Patrick must be agonizing over the children of Erin and how they are forced into heretical schools. All the while, the brightest, most talented teacher in County Down works the pub at night and plants a worthless field by day.”
    “Oh-ho. Mary, look what you’ve done by fussing so long. Now we all must suffer a lecture from Máthair .” Joseph stroked Maureen’s cheek with a callused thumb. “Your mother longs for the days when I called myself a Hedgemaster and the food that came with the title.”
    Mary