The Great Plains Read Online Free PDF Page A

interrogated.’
    Her gentle enquiry thwarted, Aloysius was left to follow the smudge of light from the candle Annie held as she led the way to their room. The wooden banister was cool beneath his palm as he walked up the stairs. He could hear the clock ticking on the landing above as his foot touched a squeaking board, the rhythmic swish of Annie’s skirts faded as she walked down the hallway to their room.
    At the top of the stairs he paused. The light at the end of the hall disappeared to be replaced by a brighter glow as the bedroom light was turned on. Outside, a gentle wind caused the branches of a tree to brush softly against the timber walls of the second storey.
    â€˜Is that you, Father?’ Edmund peered from his bedroom, a thin wedge of electric light haloing his dark hair and tall, lanky frame.
    â€˜Yes, my boy.’
    â€˜I wanted to say thank you for the job at the newspaper.’
    Recent reports suggested that Edmund had taken to his new employ with enthusiasm. Aloysius knew he should feel grateful for this one bright spark in what constituted his current firmament but in truth he expected more of his youngest son. What man in his right mind pined over a woman dead these past fourteen months? ‘If a man feels gainfully employed, Edmund, then the rest of his life usually falls into place.’
    â€˜That’s what I’m hoping for, sir. And Philomena, is there any more news of my cousin?’
    â€˜She was five when you were born. Had things been different you should have been playmates.’ Aloysius cleared his throat. ‘In any event we must not get our hopes up. I am told she can’t speak English. Hers has not been an easy life.’
    â€˜So she will need special attention, Father.’
    â€˜Yes. I have engaged Dr Fitzgerald in the first instance. And your cousin won’t be coming home immediately. I intend to put her under his care for a period of time until she is more settled.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, I know how long you have hoped for this reunion.’
    As father and son, theirs had been a distant relationship, but with the boy’s words Aloysius felt understanding without judgement. One of his daughter’s old bedrooms had been redecorated for Philomena’s arrival. Only a week ago there had been talk of a ball to be given in her honour, such was the enthusiasm of his daughters. Aloysius’s leather shoes scuffed the brightly coloured wool runner. In hindsight he was beginning to comprehend not only the extent of his naivety, but also how adept he’d been in not only convincing himself of Philomena’s triumphant return to society, but also his children. Only Annie listened, watched and waited.
    â€˜Is there something else, Father?’
    â€˜Your mother does not know.’ The length of the hall was quiet. ‘You cannot tell anyone, at least not until I tell her. She will be overwrought at the news.’
    Edmund beckoned his father into his bedroom. It was a spacious area with a solid desk, sturdy chair, double wardrobe and the single bed he’d used as a boy. Aloysius liked the furnishings for their simplicity and lack of pretension, which was in direct contrast to some of Annie’s favourite pieces, which were florid in the Victorian style. The room carried the hint of tobacco and although it was well past the hour for spirits, he accepted the tumbler of whiskey his son poured, swallowing the contents in a single gulp while the boy drank direct from the flask.
    Edmund leant against a washstand. ‘You best tell me, Father. I can keep your counsel.’
    â€˜Your cousin, Philomena, has a daughter.’
    A muscle twitched in his son’s jaw. ‘Is she …?’
    Aloysius twirled the tumbler between his palms and then sat the empty glass on the desk. ‘Apache? Yes, I gather so.’ He rarely let his thoughts stray to the inevitable violation of Philomena, but the knowledge of a daughter was