Newgate Prison Copper Mines and the Irish Lass Colonial America Romance

Chapter Nine

Joy flooded every corner of Christina's soul as they drove the wagon through the gentle sunshine to church. Reverend Miller rode easily on his horse at their side, talking with her father about the upcoming sermon, and the sound of their voices brought a lightness to her heart.

Her father was coming back to her. The father she had loved and adored, who she had thought all but a distant memory, was returning to her.

They reached the church, and she detached Esther from the harness, guiding her over to the barn to wait out the sermon in the company of the other steeds. Then she and her father headed toward the front stairs.

Mr. Richardson was standing there, his Sunday best fresh and clean, and his blond hair was freshly combed. He gave her a sweeping bow. "My dearest Miss O'Donovan. You are looking more beautiful than ever."

She gave a small smile. She was wearing the slate gray dress with the dark cloak over it. Her hair was fully tucked in beneath the white cap. Nothing showed but her face.

He stepped forward with a flourish. "I know that you have been focusing on prayers these past days. I thought, perhaps they would go more quickly if you had something to inspire you. And so I have brought you this."

He drew from his pocket his handkerchief, embroidered with the red R in its corner. He presented it to her with a flourish.

She took it from him and carefully unwrapped it.

It held a small copper cross on a black thread. The cross was done with such sharp angles that it almost looked like a dagger.

Her hand went instinctively to press against her chest, to where, beneath her hemp dress and white chemise, her mother's simple wooden cross hung. It had been one of her mother's only possessions she had brought with her from Ireland. It had been her grandmother's on her mother's side – a grandmother she had never met. A grandmother who trusted in God to watch over her young daughter as she traveled three thousand miles by ocean for the hopes of a new life in a new land.

Mr. Richardson smiled. "You like it. I can see the emotion in your eyes."

Christina nodded. "Yes, it is ... it is quite a gift. Mr. Richardson. It is too much for me."

He shook his head. "You deserve that, and much more. Perhaps if I could come calling on you –"

She gently put up a hand. "I am so sorry, but I need to focus on my prayer. We are to have no visitors, other than the Reverend Miller, of course."

He eased back. "Of course. I wholly understand. No visitors."

He looked over to where the Reverend stood by the steps, greeting his parishioners.

A stocky man with a tousle of light-brown hair came up before the reverend. They shook hands and then the man went into the church.

Mr. Richardson frowned. "That's Abraham. I didn't take him for a church-goer."

Christina's father pointed out, "In Connecticut, it's legally required for every man, woman, and child –"

Mr. Richardson waved a hand. "Yes, yes, and children's parents are to be fined if their brats run, scream, shout, or make noise on Sundays, as it disturbs the penitent. Anyway, I've never seen Abraham go near a church before. He just goes back and forth between Viet's tavern and the White Eagle out in Windsor. I've been doing much of the same, myself, as I oversee the conversion of the mines into a prison. There's been a fair amount of supplies to sell off and then buy."

Christina's father gave a soft shrug. "Maybe Abraham has had a revelation of some sort. Maybe the hour has come for him to awaken from sleep."

Mr. Richardson scoffed. "Abraham is far more likely to sleep the Sunday through, after a Saturday night of excess."

He gave himself a shake and turned to Christina. "But I will think on that later. For now, I have a beautiful woman by my side, and my sole attention should be on her. Come, let us go in to hear the Reverend's powerful sermon side by side."

Christina could hardly tell Mr. Richardson that she preferred to sit alone, as the entire church would have fellow penitents in every pew. She quietly nodded, allowing Mr. Richardson to precede her up the stairs. They greeted the reverend and then found their seats.

Mr. Richardson sat a little closer than she found comfortable at her side, but she drew in a breath. She counselled herself to patience.

She thought with warm anticipation how William might react to her latest letter.

Monday. It would travel to him on Monday.

And then on Tuesday ...