Mr. Hogan returned while this was going on, upset at first about the door being locked, but shocked at the sight of the women and children wrapped in blankets, with glass everywhere. He said he’d heard the rioting, but that it was already stopped, the perpetuators driven off the street and scattered.
“Too bad they didn’t catch any of ’em,” he grumbled, on his way to his office in the back of the store. He glanced at Casey. “Would you like me to call someone for ye, ma’am?”
It would have been more practical to call Mrs. Pennyworth to arrange for clothing and a ride, but Casey dismissed that idea. She wanted Tom. Mr. Hogan took the information and disappeared in the back.
Mrs. Hogan provided tea for them all, with plenty of honey and milk for Jamie, who was finally coaxed off his mother’s lap and allowed to sit on the now clear floor and sip his tea. Molly got the bleeding to stop enough to tie a loose bandage around Casey’s neck. Mrs. Hogan suggested Casey see a doctor. “Might need to sew it up, Mrs.”
Once the bandage was on, Casey leaned back in the chair in relief and closed her eyes, rocking Terry gently in movements that were comforting to her, as well. After a minute, she glanced at Penny, who was sitting in her chair and watching Jamie with a tender smile. Her face was pale, every freckle standing out in bold relief, her eyes tired. Casey stood and knelt beside her, hugging her tight.
“My wonderful Penny. You never even thought about it. You just saved Jamie’s life. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Penny returned the hug, careful of the bandage and the baby. “Ah, mistress. I wouldn’t leave him. I love him, too, you know.” She touched Terry lightly. “And your wee one, too. I couldn’t love my own any more than them.”
Casey gave her another squeeze and returned to her chair. Jamie climbed into Penny’s lap and fell asleep.
After several minutes of silence, the door opened with a bang and rush of wind, as a dark nor’easter blew into the store, in the form of Tom. He filled the space with sudden energy and purpose. Casey gasped to see him, his face angry and terrible, but his presence the essence of comfort. She stood quickly, struggling to hold onto the baby and the blanket, but it didn’t matter, because he grabbed her, taking the baby in one arm, and holding Casey to him with the other. He buried his face in her hair with a sob.
“He said you were all right,” Tom told her, his voice breaking. “Are you? Are all of you all right?” She nodded into his chest and his arm tightened, then he pulled away long enough to gaze at his daughter, his face darkening when he saw the cuts. Jamie tugged at his leg. Casey took Terry while Tom lifted the boy and inspected the cuts on his face.
“Are ye okay, lad?” he asked softly. Jamie nodded, then abruptly began talking. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other, as he described in the mostly incomprehensible babble of a two-year old, every detail of the event, complete with dramatic hand gestures and sound effects.
“Window CRASH…, g’ass hurt…, ran FAST…, baby cry HARD…, lady take c’othes off…, g’ass ALL OVER…, Mum b’ed and b’ed…, I had tea.” He stopped talking and stared at his father, who stared back in silent shock. Jamie slipped his arms around his father’s neck and buried his face in the comforting shoulder.
Casey wiped away a tear with the corner of her blanket and smiled slightly at Tom as he held his son, looking as if he might cry himself. “That about sums it up,” she said weakly.
He reached to squeeze her hand. “He said you were bleeding. Where?”
She gestured vaguely. “My neck.”
Penny spoke up. “She covered the pram with her body. Nearly all the glass fell on her.”
The tears in Tom’s eyes gave way and he pulled Casey into another gentle hug. Casey reached over and pulled Penny into the embrace, too, telling Tom, “She got Jamie out of there. She kept him safe.”
“They were all lucky.” This statement came from Mr. Hogan, who was standing behind his counter, his wife and daughter in the doorway behind him. Tom and the women looked over, releasing each other in slight embarrassment. “Good thing it’s winter,” Mr. Hogan continued. “Their coats and hats protected them from most of the glass.”
The moment dissolved into introductions and thanks. In the middle of that, William and Mrs. Pennyworth arrived, with clothing for everyone. They began the confusing task of dressing and showing off cuts and scratches, along with explanations, when Casey suddenly mentioned, “I left the pram on the street.”
Tom caressed her shoulder. “We can replace the pram.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But maybe it’s not damaged. And the tablecloth we bought was in it.”
William volunteered to go look while they finished dressing. Mr. Hogan went with him. Mrs. Hogan handed Tom two large packages, brown paper and newsprint wrapped around the bundles.
“These are the clothes they were all wearing. Ye may not be able to get all the shards out, and the lady’s blouse is ruined, but I thought ye might want to try.”
The men returned, quiet and disturbed, as the others were climbing into the cars. Mr. Hogan shook Tom’s hand, said he hoped they’d all be fine, and went into his store. William paused next to Tom. “The pram was set afire, sir,” he said quietly, but Casey heard him. “’Tis odd, it is. There’s not much damage to the street. The shopkeepers along there said the riot ended quickly. But they burned the pram.”
They were a quiet group as they returned to Dunallon.
Chapter 34
January—February 1911
That evening, they gathered with the servants in quiet contemplation before the fire in the parlor, trying to understand what had happened. The doctor had just left, after examining everyone and sewing Casey’s cut. His final words left more chilclass="underline" “Watch the baby for internal bleeding.” Her mouth had been open in screams while the glass was falling and the doctor was concerned that she might have swallowed some slivers. They could only wait and see.
Casey sat on the divan, holding Terry and leaning on Tom. He voiced the thought she preferred to avoid. “Was it deliberate? Were you targeted?”
“But I haven’t done anything!” she protested in quiet despair. “We’ve only been walking, I swear it!”
“I know.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes troubled. “I’m not interested in reasons, right now. I want to know if you just got caught in a random riot or did someone set you up? Are they still after you?”
No one had answers for that. Sam, holding Jamie on his lap in the big chair, considered the evidence. “All we know is that the shop you were in front of, was attacked. A few other buildings were damaged, but nothing like other riots. This riot ended quickly, with everyone running off when other people started fighting back. The pram was burned. It could all be coincidence.”
“Except…” Penny started, then glanced at Casey, reluctant to go on.
“What?” Casey encouraged.
“When we were running down the alley. Did you hear someone yelling at us?”
Casey thought about it, memory dawning as they watched her. “I heard someone yell and I think they threw a rock at us. I remember it missed us.” She stared at Penny. “He said something about Papist-lovers.”
Penny reddened. “I swear, Mistress. I’ve not been courting any Catholics. I’ve not been courting anybody!”
They all laughed, the surprised laugh of people hearing something unexpected. But they sobered quickly.
“No, but it might have been a reference to my plans,” she reminded Penny, then she sighed angrily. “But it makes no sense! Why now?”