Nell by Jeanette Baker Page B

face. Not in a million years would he have predicted this. He swallowed. How could he explain the impossibility of such a request without hurting her feelings? He could already imagine the look of horror on Lady Fitzgerald’s face. Frankie wasn’t good with words. He liked to read them and imagine them, even write them down on occasion when there was time. But to speak as Jilly did, quickly and clearly as soon as the thoughts came to her mind, was a skill he didn’t have.
    He wet his lips. Her face was alive with hope and that fragile vulnerability that made him want to kill anyone who dared to hurt her feelings. “I’m older than you, lass—”
    â€œMy father is nine years older than Mum. You’re only three years older than me. It won’t matter when we’re grown.”
    â€œWe won’t be grown for a long time, and y’ll be away at school. It wouldn’t be fair t’ hold you to a promise y’ won’t want t’ keep later on.”
    â€œI will want to keep it,” she insisted. “I know I will.”
    â€œWe’re not the same religion.”
    Jilly frowned. “What religion are you?”
    â€œCatholic.”
    â€œIs being Catholic important to you?”
    Ruffling the head of the collie puppy that lay panting at his feet, Frankie tried to speak casually. “I think it is, Jilly.”
    â€œThen I’ll be a Catholic, too.”
    Her words melted something hard and tight inside his chest. He laughed. “I believe y’ would, lass. I really believe y’ would.”
    She slipped her hand inside his. “It’s settled, then?”
    Her palm was small and warm. His hand tightened around her fingers, and he swung her arm slightly as they walked to the edge of the thick growth of trees. “I’ll tell you what, Jilly. I won’t marry anyone else unless you do. That way, you can decide if y’re still of the same mind after y’re grown.”
    Jilly frowned. It wasn’t the promise she wanted, but she suspected it was the best she would get from him. “All right.”
    Tilting back his head, Frankie squinted into the sun. “There’s one more thing y’ have to promise me, lass.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œDon’t mention a word of this t’ anyone else. It will have t’ be our secret.”
    She stopped, withdrew her hand, and planted herself firmly in front of him. “Why?” she asked bluntly.
    â€œY’r mother won’t like it.”
    â€œI’ve already told you. My mother won’t mind. She never minds anything I do.”
    â€œChrist, Jilly.” Frankie shook his head. “This is different. She will mind, and so will y’r da. We’re not the same, don’t y’ see?”
    â€œOf course we’re not the same. That’s why I like you.”
    â€œY’ don’t understand.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Y’re Jillian Fitzgerald of Kildare Hall. Y’ll have men lined up the length of the county when y’re old enough. They’ll be rich and titled with pedigrees that go back a thousand years just as yours does. I’m not like that, Jilly. My grandda could barely read, and my da left school when he was younger than me. My sister, Kathleen, works as a maid, and she’ll never be anythin’ more. Y’ve a great bedroom all to y’rself in a house with sixty other rooms. I’ve nothin’ like that, nor will I ever have. The most I can hope for is to educate myself out of Kilvara. I’ll have a flat somewhere in the city and later maybe a house.” He drew a deep breath and pushed aside the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Don’t y’ see? Y’r family would think I’d forgotten my place if y’ said we were plannin’ to marry. They might tell me to stay away from here altogether, and then I couldn’t help my da.”
    Jilly