Never Broken (10 page)

The door opened, and Shannon looked over her shoulder as Rory entered, his arms laden with parcels. She folded the cloth, laid it gently across Ainslee’s head, then went to help him.

He shivered as he placed two brown paper packages and a bottle of wine on the table. She grabbed his coat from the fireplace and put it around his shoulders. “You should have worn this,” she said and took his cold hands in hers. When she glanced at their hands together, she started to pull away, but he gripped her tight.

“How is Ainslee?” he said, glancing at the bed.

“Her forehead is so hot.” Shannon grimaced. “I put a cool cloth on it.”

He didn’t respond, and she assumed that, like her, he was thinking the worst.

Rory released her hands and opened the packages, revealing a wedge of white cheese and a round loaf of soda bread.

Her stomach growled as she looked at the food. “Where did you find this bounty?” She hadn’t seen anything so decadent since before the potato blight began.

“There’s plenty of food in Ireland,” he said, a bitter tinge to his voice. “If you have the means to pay for it.”

Shannon nodded, too tired and worried to be angry about the unfairness of it all. She turned and started for the bed. “I must tend to Ainslee.”

Rory touched her arm. “I’ll see to her while you eat.”

“But…”

“Please, Shannon. Do as I say.” He gave her a mild smile and slipped off his coat. He dropped it on her makeshift bed as he went to check on Ainslee.

Shannon sat down in the chair by the table. She cut two small slices of bread and a couple of thin wedges of cheese.

“Eat slowly,” Rory dipped the cloth in the bucket. “‘T’would do you no good to get a belly ache.” He placed the damp cloth on Ainslee’s forehead and removed one of the blankets.

“I think I should wait until she’s awake.”

He shook his head and stood. “Even if she were awake, she probably wouldn’t be hungry. Not with this fever.”

Shannon gave her sister a long look before finally crossing herself and nibbling on the cheese. Once she tasted a bite, it took everything she had not to eat it all at once. She savored the sharp flavor, so welcome after months of eating sparse meals of stunted praties and water.

Rory sat down at the small table, and she pushed the other slice of bread and cheese toward him. “How do you know so much about takin’ care of people?” she asked.

“Medicine interests me.” He bit into his bread then poured her a cup of the wine.

“Is that what you were studyin’ in Dublin?”

He paused. “How did you know I was at University?”

“I’d heard ‘bout it while I worked for the Gormleys.”

“I see. Well, to answer your question, nay, I didn’t go into medicine. I went into law instead.”

“But that’s not what you wanted to do?”

Rory added another slice of cheese on his bread. “To be honest, I find law dreadfully boring.”

Shannon frowned, but she didn’t question him further. What right did she have to inquire about his decisions? She took a sip of the wine. “’Tis good. Are ye havin’ none?”

He shook his head. “I’m not thirsty. You have as much as you want.”

She took another drink. “I’m surprised you remembered me when you saw us on the docks,” she said, setting the cup down.

He grinned. “Trust me, you’re not an easy lass to forget.”

His words warmed her body more than the fire or the wine ever could. Again she was struck by how handsome he was. His blond hair had grown out a bit since she’d last seen him, the ends touching the top of his collar and the front of it nearly past his light brown eyebrows. Yet his eyes were as sparkling and his voice as deep and smooth as she had remembered.

“You look tired, Shannon. Lie down, I’ll keep a watch over Ainslee.”

She fought to stifle a yawn, but it was of no use. She wanted to sit here with Rory, but she could barely keep her eyes open. “You’ll tell me if—when she wakes up?”

“Aye. As soon as she does I’ll fetch you.”

She rose from her chair, her joints still stiff from the hours spent in the cold. She gazed at him for a moment, then laid her hand on his arm. “I can’t thank you enough. Without you, we would have…”

“Been fine,” he interjected. “Someone else would have come by and taken care of you, of that I’m sure.”

“Nay. Mayhap it sounds maudlin, but I believe you’re our own angel of mercy.” She met his eyes and smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he answered back, returning her smile with one of his own.

Rory watched Shannon as
she lay on a soft pile of blankets in front of the fire. Her eyes were closed, her soft eyelashes resting against the top curve of her cheek. Those same cheeks were sunken, and the rest of her body was almost as gaunt as Ainslee’s. The Cahill sisters had not escaped the ills of the famine—and they had not come to the manor to ask for help.

He couldn’t keep his gaze from lingering. Through the worn gray material of her dress, he could make out her curves. They were less ample than they’d been when he’d last seen her, when she had been stout and healthy. Yet they were still evident. His grip around the tin cup tightened.

Rory pulled his gaze from Shannon and turned to Ainslee, who lay in peaceful repose on the double bed. With her high fever, he had expected her to be delirious, but she wasn’t. Cramming another piece of bread in his mouth, he stood and went to her. He placed his fingertips against her hot skin, then applied a fresh, cool cloth to her forehead.

Weariness overtook him, and he returned to the table, sank into the chair, then yanked off his boots. Several blisters had formed and popped, the fluid weeping through the thin material of his socks. He pulled them off, letting the air dry his damp, sore feet, then leaned his forehead against his hands. By now he should have been on his way to America, on his way to his new life—not spending it in a small tavern with one woman he barely knew and another he didn’t know at all.

Not that he regretted his decision. Even though he had dismissed Shannon’s talk of him saving them, he knew she was right—she and Ainslee would have died if he hadn’t seen them.

Now they were both safe and dry and warm. Shannon would be fine—she was a strong lass. Ainslee, he was uncertain about. How she fared through the night would give him a better idea of her recovery. Once she was well—or not—he would figure out what to do next.

He stared at the wine in front of him. When he’d bought the bread and cheese from the innkeeper, there was little choice in drink. He picked up the bottle and ran his thumb over the dark glass. It would be so easy to take a drink, and he was tempted. He wanted the images he’d seen the past few weeks to leave his mind—the sick, the starving, the dead. The wine could take care of that.

Rory set the bottle back on the table and pushed it away. He had to keep his wits about him. Not only for Shannon and Ainslee’s sake, but for his own.

Colm stretched his stiff limbs as
the gray morning light peeked through the stables at Gormley Manor. Again, the sun remained hidden behind the overcast sky. He began to wonder if it would ever shine in Ireland again.

It had been three days since he’d come back to Ballyclough after leaving Rory, and with each passing day his body felt weaker and his spirit dipped lower.

The only possibly—and surprisingly—bright spot was that Lady Jane kept her word to Sara and made an effort to help the villagers. He had even seen her at the front gates, wearing an austere, black gown, passing out bread rolls. No soup, no gruel. They were down to only rolls.

Yet he didn’t trust Lady Jane completely, and he would never trust William. Colm continued to remain hidden, journeying away from the manor only when he felt safe, and coming back after dark. He often visited his piece of land, but the few acres of desolate soil failed to give him any assurance. What good was land if it would yield nothing but a stinking, rotten crop?

He began to second-guess his decision to return home. But he didn’t want to admit Rory was right, either. Instead, he threw all his efforts into doing what he could for the villagers and resuming his former task of helping bury the dead. The latest victim, Siobhan Cahill, had been buried last night.

Among this, he had heard stories of landlords all over the county evicting their tenants, even hosting banquets to celebrate. Their servants served them rich delicacies, all the while knowing their kinsmen were dying in droves right outside the manor doors. Colm soon realized there was little one person could do. There was little anyone could do, other than the English government, which seemed not to care about the Irish people at all.

He brushed the hay off his clothing, which now hung loose on his dwindling frame. His stomach growled, but he had little appetite. He needed a bath and a more permanent place to stay. He couldn’t hide out in the stables much longer, for eventually he would be discovered. He’d spent last night trying to figure out his next move, knowing he had to be careful.

After Siobhan’s funeral last night, he’d spoken to her widower, a reed-thin man who had sent his two daughters to America. Colm still remembered how alone and lost Cahill had looked. He didn’t blame him. The man had lost his wife and likely would never see his daughters again. Colm thought to pay him another visit. Perhaps he could offer Cahill a small amount of rent in exchange for a place to stay. He could also offer him a bit of company. It wouldn’t be much, but at least neither of them would be alone.

Decision made, Colm crept out of the empty stall at the far end of the stable. With sharp awareness, he snuck through the stalls and exited out the back door. Relieved when he didn’t see anyone, he took a couple of steps past the stables, only to run into Larson O’Kelley, one of the Gormleys’ grooms.

“Mr. O’Leary!” The burly man gave him a toothless grin. “Yer back! I’d heard you went on to America.”

Colm quickly led O’Kelley to the side of the stables, out of sight of the manor. Forcing a smile, he clapped the man on the shoulder. “Aye, you heard right. But I changed me mind. I can’t bear to leave Eire behind.”

“Aye, I be feelin’ the same as you. But looks like I’ll be havin’ to. M’lord is readyin’ to return to England even as we speak. In fact, he’s drivin’ the villagers out in the morn.”

Colm’s smile froze. “He’s what?”

“Surprised me too, for I thought Lady Jane had convinced himself to change his mind. She’s an odd duck, she is, for suddenly she decided she wants to go back to England. The staff thought she’d decided to stay here. She said, however, she missed her home in London. So now m’lord is sellin’ the manor to the highest bidder, so to speak.”

The smile slid from Colm’s face. A tiny part of him hoped he’d been wrong about his aunt. Poor Sara. She desperately wanted to trust her mother.

“’Tis a shame,” O’Kelley continued. “Lord Edwin loved it here. He put so much of his heart and soul into the estate. Methinks he’s turnin’ in his grave even as we speak.”

“I know he is,” Colm mumbled, his anger stoked anew.
What will become of the villagers now?

“I’m not in the
mood to go riding today, William.” Sara continued to gaze out the window in the parlor as she twisted her handkerchief in her hands. She glanced at the empty space in front of the wrought iron gated entrance of the manor. Two days ago the area had teemed with their tenants. Now it was eerily empty since William had decreed his eviction. As lord of the estate, he could do as he pleased.

But it wasn’t so much her brother’s decision that angered her. It was her mother’s complete change of direction. One day she was helping Sara with the tenants, the next she was crying to go back to England. At least William had been true to his character—and apparently her mother had been true to hers as well. When Sara confronted her about the change of heart, Mother took an evasive approach. “William is looking out for our best interests,” she’d said as she continued to pack one of her many suitcases.

“But I thought you wanted to continue Father’s work,” Sara had pointed out.

“I changed my mind.” Her mother turned to Sara with an inscrutable expression. “You would do well to change your mind, too. Along with your attitude. William has spoken, and we must do as he says.”

“Even if innocent people die?”

Her mother briefly paused, then resumed her packing.

Sara’s thoughts returned to the present as she clutched her handkerchief to her chest. Colm had been right. Mother’s words had been empty, perhaps spoken only in a rare moment of grief.

“I must say, I am surprised at your refusal to go riding,” William said, coming up behind her. When he touched her shoulder, she moved away. With a shrug, he continued, “I had thought you would want one last look at the country you claim to adore.”

Sara glared at him. “Is that your plan? Take me to see our former tenants as they sit by the side of the road, homeless? Or perhaps you would give me a tour of the huts you had your agent set on fire when they refused to leave?” She turned her back to him. “I’ll not be a party to your cruelty.”

“Oh, Sara, don’t be so dramatic. I did what had to be done.”

She spun and faced him. “You treat the horses with more sympathy! ‘Tis appalling, and I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

William smiled. “I live with myself just fine.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, one she couldn’t dodge, and headed for the door. “O’Kelley usually saddles up my horse, but I think I’ll do it myself today. I plan to take particular pleasure out of this ride.”

Sara felt the color drain from her face. As far as she knew, Colm was still staying in the stables. She had stayed clear of her cousin the past three days, not wanting to risk revealing his presence. If William found him on the estate…

“Wait,” she said, hurrying to her brother. “I’ll ride with you after all.”

The smirk on William’s face faded, his eyebrows knitting together. “Do tell, Sara, what made you change your mind so quickly?”

“I… I think you’re right.”

He arched a brow. “About what?”

“I should take one more look at this beautiful countryside before we leave for London. Only promise me we won’t ride into Ballyclough. I can’t bear to see the suffering,” she added when his expression grew wary.

“Very well. I’m perfectly happy to avoid that wretched place.” He offered his arm. “I’m so glad you’ve finally come round, Sara, like Mother has. For a moment I thought she’d lost her senses.”

“What did you say to her to make her change her mind?”

He chucked her under the chin. “That, my little sister, is none of your business.”

She pulled away from his touch. She should have known better than to question him.

He headed for the door. “I’ll saddle your horse for you.”

She gripped his arm. “Nay!”

“Nay?” He peered down his angular nose at her hand on his sleeve.

“I mean…” She scrambled for an excuse, anything to keep William from going to the stables right away. “I certainly can’t ride without my crop. I left it in my room. Would you be a dear and retrieve it for me? Since you’re so generous.” She looked up at her brother and mustered a smile. “I’ll meet you in the stables and ask O’Kelley to ready our horses. I’m sure he’ll want to do that for us one last time.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Of course he would. All right, I shall get your riding crop. Tell O’Kelley I’d like to ride the Arabian today.”

“I will,” she said, a little too brightly. Fortunately, William didn’t seem to notice. When he strode out the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had bought a little bit of time. She prayed it would be enough. Gathering her skirts, she headed for the stable, hoping Colm had already left for Ballyclough—and determined to warn him if he hadn’t.

After his talk with
O’Kelley, Colm dashed into the stable and collected his coat and makeshift bedroll.

“Does this mean you’ll be leavin’ us again?”

Colm spun around. He hadn’t heard O’Kelley follow him.

“Aye. I believe I’ve overstayed as it is.”

“What are ye plannin’ to do?”

Colm sighed. “Find a way to stay in Eire.” Meeting with Cahill had now become urgent.

“’Tis unfortunate for us all.” O’Kelley fell in step beside Colm as the two men walked out of the stables. “Being forced to leave our own country.”

Colm was about to agree when he saw Sara approach. At first she was running, looking wildly about her, then slowed down, but still moving with rushed steps. Noticing her strange behavior, he turned to the groom, who had apparently also spotted Sara, his expression puzzled.

“Miss Sara is unusually hurried,” O’Kelley said.

Alarm shot through Colm. There could only be one reason she would rush to the stables—and he was sure it had nothing to do with horse riding.

“Such a kind, gentle soul, Miss Sara,” O’Kelley added. “Haven’t seen her out much lately. Perhaps she’s decided to have one more ride before leavin’ us.”

“Then you should saddle her horse for her.” Colm’s eyes never left Sara. He saw panic on her face, and his stomach churned with dread.

“Aye. I’ll take care of it.”

When Colm was certain O’Kelley was out of sight, he raced to meet Sara. “Lass, what is it?”

“William,” she said, sounding breathless. “He’s coming here. He wants to ride and gloat over his spoils. You must leave, Colm. If he finds you are here…”

“Too late for that.”

Colm turned to see William slipping out from the other side of the stables, striding toward him and Sara. “You are a terrible liar, Sara. Sending me on a fool’s errand to fetch your crop? Surely you could have come up with an excuse that wouldn’t have assured me you were hiding something important.”

Colm moved to step in front of Sara. “Your problem is with me, not her.”

“You are correct on that account.” William touched his starched cravat. “I should have known you wouldn’t leave. Although I must say, your taking up residence in the stables is quite apropos.”

His vision turned black with rage. Before he could stop himself, he launched at William, tackling him to the ground.

“Colm!” Sara cried. “Don’t!”