As she walked the mile or more to St. Mary’s on this dark day in early March, Maeve tried to imagine what Patrick Reilly wanted from her, or in truth, from Kate. Was he going to insist that Kate should now go and work for his friend, whose name she had forgotten? Her heart sank. Or was he about to chastise Maeve for letting her sister become ill because she had rebuffed the offer of a better life for her.
The weather hadn"t much improved, and her boots were cold and wet again, but she hardly noticed as she made her anxious way into the church. Candles flickered in sconces around the altar and there was a strong smell of flowers - lilies, she finally noticed, in a copper vase on the altar table. Although modest, it was the richest church she had ever been in - she lived in hope of St Andre
