Never Broken (6 page)

Ainslee knew she should
apologize to her sister, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Shannon had agreed so easily to leave the only home she’d ever known, to forsake their parents in their greatest time of need. Didn’t she understand that Da wasn’t thinking clearly? Hunger and desperation had clouded his judgment.

Or was her fear clouding hers?

No, it wasn’t, despite the fact that she was terrified. She and Shannon should go home and accept whatever fate God had for them in Ireland, not some foreign country an ocean away.

Then she remembered the determined look in her father’s eyes. Ainslee Cahill came by her stubbornness honestly. Da would probably end up escorting them to Cork himself, a trip he wasn’t strong enough to make. She wouldn’t put him through that. He needed to be by Ma’s side.
Shannon is right. I am selfish.

She allowed her steps to slow, weighed down by sorrow and shame. Shannon was several yards ahead of her, but Ainslee didn’t bother to catch up. Instead, she tried to pray. She had broken the vow of obedience before she had even become a novice. All of her reassurances to Father O’Reilly seemed false now. She had been presented with her first test and failed.

Forgive me, Father.

Tucking her cold hands into the pockets of her coat, she put her fear and trepidation in the Lord’s hands, something she should have done from the very beginning. Drawing strength and gaining courage with each step, she continued walking, eventually oblivious to everything around her.

She was steeped in meditation when a woman leapt in front of her, blocking the road. Ainslee halted, too shocked to speak.

“Doomed, ye are—we all are—doomed,” the wild-eyed woman cried.

A shiver ran down Ainslee’s spine.

“’Tis the death of Ireland—the sound of keening hangs in the air. Can ye hear it?” She lunged at Ainslee, the ragged nails of her fingers clawing at the tender skin of Ainslee’s neck. Green stains circled the old woman’s mouth, and narrow leaves jutted from between her teeth. Had this woman been reduced to eating grass?

Ainslee jumped away. The scratches on her neck stung as if someone had poured salt into an open wound. She brought her hand to the broken skin and drew it away. When she glanced down, she saw thin spots of blood on her fingers.

“God has punished us. We’re doomed.” As suddenly as she’d appeared in front of Ainslee, the woman stepped aside then crumpled to the ground.

Ainslee knelt at her side, cradling the woman’s head in her hand. Clearly the poor creature was out of her mind. Passersby ignored them as they continued on as if a fainting woman on the side of the road was nothing to be concerned about. “’Twill be all right,” Ainslee said softly, holding the woman’s hand, all the while knowing her words were a lie.

The woman opened her eyes and reached up with one bony hand. To Ainslee’s surprise, she gently stroked her cheek as if her wits had returned. Then she pulled off the old woolen scarf hanging around her neck and hung it limply around Ainslee’s, wrapping her wounds in a makeshift bandage. “I’m sorry,” she said, her breathing growing raspy. “So sorry.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. Ainslee felt the woman’s body grow still. Tears dripped from her eyes and landed on the woman’s now peaceful face. She said a prayer over her, crossed herself, then laid the woman’s lifeless body against the cold, hard ground.

Rising, she touched the scarf wrapped askew around her neck and shoulders. Her fingers went to the stinging scratches again and felt the warmth of oozing blood. Wrapping the scarf more securely, she turned from the dead woman and walked away.

Ainslee tried to push thoughts of the lady out of her mind but couldn’t. Her words echoed inside her head, and she tried to convince herself they were not true.

Doomed. We’re all doomed.

Near dusk, Shannon searched for Ainslee.
She thought her sister was close behind her, though for most of the day, she hadn’t seen her. At first she wasn’t concerned, figuring Ainslee needed time to get over her fit of pique. But as the day wore on, Shannon’s worry grew. She hadn’t expected their separation to last several hours. Leaving her mother and father was painful enough. She couldn’t abide losing Ainslee too.

Finally, she found her after backtracking a little over a mile. Ainslee’s steps were slow and plodding, her shoulders slumped. Her arms were clasped tightly around her slim frame as if she had to physically hold herself together. A ragged gray scarf, one Shannon didn’t recognize, encircled her neck.

Picking up her skirt, Shannon ran to her sister, dodging the other travelers heading south toward the port. She bumped into a young man who appeared to be close to her age. “Excuse me,” she said.

“Watch where yer goin’!” he said sharply. Then he stopped, perusing her with a leering gaze that made Shannon’s skin crawl. Hastily, she fled.

“So ye think yer too good fer me?” he called out after her. “No matter, ye ugly wench. There’re plenty o’ women who would give their eyeteeth to bed wi’ me!”

Shannon’s breath hitched as she quickened her stride. She glanced over her shoulder to see if the man was following her then sighed with relief that he wasn’t.

When she reached her sister Shannon grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Ainslee!” “Where have ye been?”

Ainslee looked at her with empty eyes but said nothing.

Fear gripped Shannon. “Lee, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a banshee.”

“Mayhap I have.” Ainslee visibly shivered. She relayed to Shannon what had happened with the woman on the side of the road. “She gave me this and said she was sorry,” Ainslee said, touching the tail end of the scarf with her shaking hand. “She also said we were doomed, Shannon. I fear she may be right.”

Shannon gripped her sister’s cold hand and squeezed it. “Nay, we’re not doomed. Like Da pointed out, we’re strong lasses.” She smiled. “I believe we are the lucky ones.”

Ainslee’s eyes were filled with doubt. “I don’t know.”

“But I do. Remember what Ma said, about findin’ what God has in store for us. We must focus on that.”

Something appeared in Ainslee’s eyes, a determination Shannon hadn’t seen since they’d left Ballyclough. “Aye, Shannon,” she said, nodding slowly. “That we must.” Ainslee straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, visibly casting off her melancholy and doubt. She even managed a small smile. “’Tis most ironic, don’t you think?”

“What is?” Shannon asked.

“You remindin’ me to keep the faith.” Her smile vanished. “I would have made a terrible nun. How can I minister to those who are without faith if I am so weak in my own?”

“Nay,” Shannon said, linking her arm through Ainslee’s and guiding them back toward Cork. “’Tis not your faith that is weak, Lee. Your faith is stronger than mine. It always has been.” She grinned. “You’re just used to bein’ perfect and right all the time.”

“I never said I was perfect.”

“You didn’t have to, Saint Lee.”

Ainslee regarded her for a moment, then smiled in return. “Thank you, Shannon.”

Shannon nodded in acknowledgement. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Aye.”

“We mustn’t be separated again, Lee. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

“Or I you.”

A short while later darkness cloaked the land, broken only by the dim light of the luminescent moon. Travelers made temporary camps on the side of the road, and the air hung thick with the smoky scent of burning peat. But Shannon and Ainslee continued on their way to Cork.

“There’ll be time to sleep on the ship,” Shannon said. Her encounter with the lecherous man had put her on guard, and she realized in these dreadful times few people, if any, could be trusted.

With the near full moon lighting their way, the sisters put one weary foot in front of the other. After a long silence, Ainslee spoke. “I suppose there’s nothin’ left for me to do but accept this.” She let out a heavy sigh. “What do you think America will be like?”

Shannon shrugged. “I can’t imagine it. Ireland is all I’ve ever known. However it will be, it will never compare to the beauty of Eire.”

“Nay, that it won’t. We can’t ever forget that, Shannon. America may be our destiny, but Ireland will always be home.”

“Aye, Lee. That it will.”

Sara squirmed in the plush chair
on the opposite side of her father’s desk and watched William pour a glass of port. He seated himself behind the desk as if it had always belonged to him and not their late father. She struggled to keep her tears at bay but failed as William tasted the dark red drink, nodded his approval at the vintage, then set the cut crystal glass down.

“Dry your tears, sister dear. Our father is no longer suffering. He is with God now. That would give you a bit of comfort, I should think.”

Sara’s swollen eyes narrowed. “Your lack of grief does not, William. Are you so cold you cannot express a tiny bit of sorrow for his death? The wake was but yesterday.”

“I grieve in private, Sara. It’s unbecoming of the lord of the manor to show too much emotion.” He took another sip of his port. “Splendid. Perhaps you should try some. It might take off the edge.”

“No, thank you,” Sara said tightly.

“Very well.” He returned the glass to the desktop and sat back in the chair, leveling his cold gaze at her. “Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of an extended mourning period. There are too many matters that need my full attention. Father fell behind on our business interests during his illness.”

Clenching her teeth, Sara fought for patience. Her brother was dancing on the pain in her heart, and he knew it. She even suspected he enjoyed it. He spoke of their father as if he were a family pet that had died. No, not a family pet. More like vermin he was glad to be rid of.

She had always known William had a cruel streak. Even as a child, he took peculiar pleasure in making life difficult for those around him. Their father never suffered his antics gladly, despite Mother’s indulgence and devotion to William. When Rory and Colm arrived, William concentrated his malevolent tricks and sharp wit on them. It was no wonder Rory sought refuge in Dublin and Colm in the countryside. At least there they could live in relative peace.

“One of the matters I must address immediately is the disposition of the tenants on the estate. I have put out eviction notices for all of them.” William’s emotionless voice drew Sara out of her bitter thoughts.

“Eviction?” She drew in a sharp breath. “You cannot turn them out.”

“I can and I will. Be thankful I’m giving you fair warning. I’m sure you’ll try to do something to save them.”

“William, please, I beg of you. They have nothing as it is. Where will they go? What will become of them?”

“What will become of our family if I continue to allow them to stay? They cannot pay their rents, and I cannot continue to run a charity.” He reached for his wine glass again. “Father’s generosity has nearly depleted our accounts.”

She lifted her chin. “He used his money for the greater good. You know that.”

“Ah, Sara.” He gave a condescending shake of his head. “So sweet and so righteous. How can giving away food and clothing to a passel of lazy peasants uphold the greater good?” He rose from his chair and went to stand in front of her, leaning against the inlaid mahogany desk that cost more than a tenant’s cottage. “Let me explain how we can best serve the greater good. With the tenants off our land, I can sell the property and recoup at least a small profit.” He stared at his port and swirled it in his glass. “So long as they haven’t completely ruined everything with their stinking, rotten potato crop.”

Sara was losing patience. “You speak as if the blight is their fault.”

“Mayhap it is. I must agree with our esteemed treasurer, Trevelyan, when he says that providence has dealt the Irish their fate. We must leave them to it.”

She shot up from her chair. “Leave them to it? You mean to leave them to starve? To die?”

“Whatever happens to them is the divine hand of God.” He brushed a piece of lint off his expensive wool suit coat. “Perhaps if they lived less heathen lives they wouldn’t be in the state they’re currently in.”

“You believe that no more than I do,” Sara cried. “That is a foolish, not to mention stupid, rationalization. They are Catholics—Christians—the same as us.”

“Do not compare their faith to ours,” William said, his eyes narrowing. “You and Father always had a strange sympathy for them. I never understood it.”

“They are family. Our family.”

“They are tenants who can’t pay what they owe.” He looked down at Sara, his eyes still hard despite his next words. “I know it pains you to see people suffer. There is naught we can do for them now. We must think of our own preservation and future.” He turned and set the glass down on the desk behind him. “I have instructed the servants to pack your things, along with Mother’s. In four days, we leave for London. I can conduct the family’s affairs from there.”

“No! You can’t do this, William.” Anger, stronger than she’d ever felt in her life, squeezed her chest. “You can’t uproot me from my home.”

William’s blue eyes turned to hard, clear stones. “Don’t forget who is in charge of your future. With Father gone it is my responsibility to care for you, whether you appreciate my efforts or not.”

“You expect gratitude for taking me away from the land and people I love? And what about Rory and Colm? You have not mentioned them at all.”

“They will be dealt with.”

His failure to be forthcoming sent a chill down her spine. “How?”

“That is none of your concern.” With a smooth movement, her brother clasped his hand around her elbow and ushered her toward the door. “Now, leave me, for I have much work to do prior to our departure.”

“You can’t dismiss me like one of the servants, William. I am your sister. I demand—”

William’s grip tightened to the point of pain. “Now sister dear, petulance does not become you. You will be ready to go when the time comes with your valise packed and your mouth shut.” A smug expression crossed his features. “And wear that pretty blue and white striped confection Mother purchased for you a few months ago.”

Suspicious, Sara asked, “Why?”

“Priscilla’s older cousin, Quentin, will meet us when we arrive.”

“William, no…” Sara whispered. She remembered meeting Quentin at the wedding reception. He was at least ten years older than her and had the personality of a cobblestone wall. “Surely you don’t intend a betrothal?”

“He possesses a prime lineage and coffers filled to the brim. He will make a good match for our family.”

“What about a good match for me?” She had always thought she would marry for love. Her father had promised her as much. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Mother and I are of the same mind.” William smirked. “Now run along. I’m sure you have loads of packing to tend to.”

She stared at him, watching as he calmly reseated himself behind their father’s desk, not looking up. He picked up a sheaf of papers and began perusing them while polishing off his glass of port. Her spirits slipped to despair. Any protestation she made would fall fallow on her brother’s cold heart.

Numb, she left the study and climbed the stairs to her room. Somehow she had to stop William, not for herself, but for the sake of the tenants. She couldn’t go to her mother, and if she told Colm what William planned, he would lose his temper and make everything worse. There was only one person she could turn to.

She stopped in the middle of the staircase, turned, ran downstairs, passed through the back door of the manor, and hurried to the stables. The groom, O’Kelley, was hanging up one of William’s saddles. He paused to touch Uncle Edwin’s favorite saddle, well-worn from years of use. The employees and servants of Gormley Manor also mourned the death of their lord.

“O’Kelley?” she said, not wanting to startle him but speaking with urgency. “Have you seen Rory?”

The burly man faced her, scratching his reddish beard. “Aye. He left about an hour ago. Didn’t say where he was goin’.”

“You must find him.” At his odd expression, she regained her composure. It wouldn’t do for her to run around in a panic, despite fear and dread consuming her. “He is needed at the manor.”

“Aye, m’lady. I’ll send out one of my boys posthaste.”

Two hours later, Sara paced her room as she waited for Rory to arrive. Her fingers touched her right temple, trying to soothe the throbbing pain that seared in her head. When she finally heard a knock on the door, she threw it open.

Rory stepped into the room. “I came as soon as I could. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She relayed her and William’s conversation.

Rory fisted his hands. “So he means not only to abandon the tenants, he would wed you off without a thought to your feelin’s on the matter?” He shook his head. “This is beyond the pale, even for William.”

“He is dead serious, Rory. Mother and I leave with him in a few days.” She licked her dry lips. “I am afraid for our tenants, but I fear more for you and Colm. William refused to tell me what his plans were. Do you know where Colm is? I tried to find him after I sent for you, but he’s not on the estate.”

“We haven’t spoken since yesterday, after the wake.”

Sara started wringing her hands. “Find him and meet me in the garden. We must warn him, as well.” She halted her steps and looked him square in the eye. “While William may see fit to cast you both aside, my father did not.”

Rory frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Right before Father died, he asked to see me privately. He must have known William was up to something, for he expressed concern over you and Colm. I can’t tell it all now, for time is of the essence.” She urged Rory out of her room. “I’ll explain everything later—but please, find Colm!”

When Rory left, Sara went to her dresser. She knelt in front of the bottom drawer, pulled it out, then reached underneath piles of petticoats and undergarments. When her fingers touched the back of the drawer, she found what she was looking for and prayed it would be enough to save both her cousins.

Almost an hour later,
Rory sat on the bench in the center of Edwin’s rose garden. Being here reminded him of when he met Shannon Cahill. That night seemed like a lifetime ago, yet, once again, she filled his mind. He’d made a few inquiries but hadn’t found out any information about her or her family. He only knew one thing—she hadn’t shown up at the manor asking for bread. He took that as a good sign. He refused to think about the alternative.

Rory watched as Colm strode back and forth, digging his heel into the crushed stone as he pivoted with each lap. He’d found Colm in the village, helping a young widow bury her husband. That type of task had become somewhat of a personal crusade for him, helping the stricken give their loved ones a proper burial. Tragically, it also kept him extremely busy. His brother’s unselfish acts surprised Rory. Then again, the recent troubles had changed everyone.

Rory stared at the pristine pool covered in a thin sheet of ice in the square of the garden. Dead leaves littered the area and the afternoon sky was cloaked in a misty, gray fog. Not even the thought of Shannon dispelled the dread gathering in his gut as he waited for Sara.

“Where the devil is she?” Colm shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, but Rory still saw them clenching and unclenching against the wool fabric. “We’ve been here for over an hour. If this is some kind of trick…”

“’Tis not a trick.” Rory frowned. “Our Sara would never deceive us, you know that.”

Colm relented slightly. “Aye, that she wouldn’t. But what’s keeping her?”

“I don’t know.” He should have expected William to strike while his father’s body was barely in the grave. Rory fought to keep his grief at bay. His uncle had been more than a benefactor. He’d been a surrogate father. Now he was gone, and they were at William’s mercy.

“How could William abandon his countrymen?” asked Colm, breaking into Rory’s thoughts.

“He’s never held any loyalty to Ireland. Neither does Lady Jane. They are English through and through.”

“Then what of Sara? I can see why he would betray us, but how could he be so callous toward his own sister?”

Rory sighed. “I’m sure it has to do with money. Or political gain. Probably both.”

“And we’ll leave her to her fate? Is that what you’re sayin’?”

“’Tis not like we have a choice.”

Colm ran his hand over his face. “We should stay here and fight him—for Sara’s sake.”