“But those
were
tales. You were right
not to believe them.” Jane patted the woman’s hands gently and
looked at them. The palms were hard and calloused, with dirt so
deeply engrained in them that St. Peter would surely know her for a
worker when she arrived at heaven’s gates. “Rita, the folk around
here have always made much more of me than I deserve. I am just a
woman…like you.”
Rita shook her head. “But that’s it, don’t
you know? Ye’re
not
like the rest of us. And knowing now who
ye really be…knowing the sacrifice ye’ve made…the love you carry
here,” she touched her heart, “for poor folk like us…makes me
believe in ye more than all the legends and stories of angels and
saints. Ye be
our
joy, Egan. Our own angel sent by the Lord
himself to watch over us.”
Jane fought back the tears burning her eyes.
“I…I am not worthy…of all that you say, Rita. I was not chosen…or
sent…by the Lord…I am just a simple woman. That’s all.”
The young mother again cupped Jane’s hand in
her own. “This is a land of believers, Egan. And no matter how
unworthy ye might think ye be, I believe in ye. We believe in
ye.”
Jane wished she had the strength to argue
with her. She wished she had the courage to be everything that
these people wanted her to be.
“But ‘tis not what ye do for us in the
future that matters so much, as what ye’ve done already.” Rita
started again. “Ye’ve given us courage…a hero to call our own. And
we must protect ye, as well. And this is the reason I’m telling all
this now…” She lowered her voice. “They are after ye, Egan. The
magistrate and his dragoons are becoming more brutal in questioning
everyone about you. But we cannot let them discover ye.”
“They shan’t discover me.” Even to her own
ears, her tone lacked conviction. She needed time to think—to
refocus on her purpose.
“Do not put yerself at risk, miss. If they
take ye, we’ll all feel the lash here, inside,” she said softly,
pressing Jane’s hand to her heart.
“I will not let them take me.”
“I’m glad of it, miss. For mark me, ’twould
be better for Egan to disappear unbeaten than to see her hanging
from the gibbet in Cork City.” Rita’s eyes shone with her belief.
“Our memories keep us strong, but to lose her to these brutes would
surely break our backs.”
***
Though Nicholas walked the width and length
of the village of Ballyclough, he saw nothing of what he passed.
Finding himself sitting on a low stone wall encircling a graveyard
situated on a hill overlooking the village, he shook off his haze
and looked at the small, crumbling castle and the chapel near it.
Following the brook with his eyes, he considered the humble
cottages at the lower end. Abandoned wooden vats and stretching
racks in various conditions of disrepair indicated that the village
had obviously thrived at one time on the tanning industry. But no
longer.
Things change, he thought.
He frowned fiercely and pulled up a tuft of
green from his feet. Green three-leafed plants that looked much
like tiny clovers were interwoven with the grass. Looking at the
roots, he wondered if one could separate the two plants, once
joined like this, and have them both survive. He was beginning to
have his doubts.
The attraction between Jane and him was
undeniable. Nicholas had already admitted to himself that he was in
love with her. Once the awareness had set in, the admission was not
difficult.
But so many complications lay in their
path.
She was an active member of this Whiteboys
movement. By the devil, she was one of their leaders.
Nicholas didn’t give a damn about the
reputation she’d destroyed years ago, but it obviously made a
difference to her, and so would affect any future decision she made
about the two of them.
Plus, she was worried about Clara’s
future.
And as much as she tried to put on an air of
indifference, Jane was deeply hurt by her parent’s rejection of
her.
There might have been even more issues that
he could think of if he set his mind to it. Jane’s earlier
rejection of him and the silence that had settled between them
en route
here this morning had indicated her own
difficulties. But Nicholas was not one to be so easily deterred. He
loved her, and he was determined resolve every problem.
But he needed her help.
Pressing the tuft of green back into the
earth, he stood and followed the path back toward the village and
the parsonage.
A young servant led Nicholas to the
parsonage’s parlor. As he removed his hat and gloves, Henry Adams
appeared in the doorway.
Ah, yes! And then there was the matter of
the good parson.
“Did you have a pleasant walk, Sir
Nicholas?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I am afraid Miss Jane has not concluded her
visit this morning,” the parson announced, remaining in the
doorway. “I realize you shared a carriage coming down. If you wish
to get back to Woodfield House, I can arrange for one of my grooms
to ready a horse for you.”
Nicholas bristled. “I am in no hurry to get
back, Parson, but I thank you for your concern.”
“But I was under the impression that you are
spending the afternoon with Miss Clara.”
“Were you?” Nicholas moved to the center of
the room. “Do you know something, Reverend Adams, that I do
not?”
“Perhaps I do.” With his hands clasped
behind him, Henry entered the parlor, a disapproving glare painted
clearly on his features as he studied Nicholas. Adams was easily as
tall and broad as the baronet, and the room suddenly became much
smaller. “Perhaps I find your behavior…odd. Spending the mornings
in the company of one sister and the afternoons in the company of
the other. I find it improper, sir, to see you charming these two
young women at the same time. I wonder if you are considering the
implications…and the possible consequences for one of them?”
“You are treading a dangerous path, sir,”
Nicholas growled.
“Am I?” The minister took another step
toward him.
Regardless of the man’s profession, Nicholas
realized he was about to call the man out. He didn’t like his
insinuations. He didn’t like his tone. And frankly, he was
beginning to dislike the man’s looks.
But for Jane’s sake, he reined in his temper
for the moment. “And I wonder if you are asking these questions in
your capacity of these young women’s spiritual advisor.”
“Now it is you who is treading
dangerously.”
“Am I?” Nicholas crossed his arms and turned
only slightly, measuring the man. “I don’t know if it is any of
your business, but I spoke with Sir Thomas the day after my arrival
to correct any confusion regarding my supposed interest in Miss
Clara. There is not going to be a proposal. There have never been
any marriage plans, and I have no wish to marry the younger
daughter. And, having clarified that point with the parents, I do
not
spend any time in her company.”
“And how does Clara feel about that? About
being led on, I mean?”
The man’s accusing question pricked the
visitor’s restraint. His glare menacing, Nicholas took a step
toward the parson. “Miss Clara was never led on by me, and I am
warning you now that I am finding your insinuations an intolerable
affront to my honor.”
“If your intentions have been as honorable
as you claim, sir, then there is nothing to be offended by. Which,
in turn, brings me to your intentions regarding Jane.” They stood
an arm’s length apart, Adam’s fierce glare matching Nicholas’s. “I
have known and valued her for too many years to allow a stranger to
walk in today and leave tomorrow, and cause her pain. I refuse to
allow…”
“What is between Jane and me is none of your
concern, and I…”
“I am making it my concern…”
“Am I interrupting something?”
Jane’s softly spoken question from the
doorway stopped the two men. But like two bulls ready for combat,
neither moved nor averted his killing stare until she repeated her
question.
Henry Adams was the first one to turn and
face her. A look of tenderness that passed between the two, and
something in Nicholas’s belly curdled when the parson took her hand
and raised it to his lips.
“And here is Jane. Interrupting? Nay, I was
practicing my hospitality.”
Her brilliant smile as she brushed a kiss
against his cheek was another blow to Nicholas’s midriff. He was
roughly five seconds away from breaking the good parson’s jaw, and
he found himself taking a step toward the two.
“Are you ready, Sir Nicholas?” She turned
her magical gaze on him, and he felt the room warm around him. “To
avoid giving our host any temptation to poison you…with his
hospitality…I am refusing Parson Adams’s insistence on us staying
to dine with him.”
Adams hadn’t asked them to stay, and
Nicholas wished he could smile at her attempt to lighten the
tension between the two men. But his jaws were clamped too tightly
shut to move.
“Indeed, I think we will be leaving
immediately,” she said, blessing Adams with another smile as she
looped her arm through Nicholas’s. “I’m quite sure this house can
handle only so many guests at one time.”
For the hundredth time, Jane glanced over at
Nicholas’s brooding face and contemplated her best approach. The
man clearly needed to bleed off some of his anger. What she’d seen
in the parlor of the parsonage had been no illusion. Whether they
would have resorted to fists or swords or pistols, Nicholas and
Henry had clearly been ready to do battle. And considering her
involvement and friendship with each of these two men, Jane was
deeply disturbed to think
she
might have been the reason for
their obvious hostility.
“Are you trying to give me a taste of my own
medicine?”
She might as well have asked the question of
the passing blue jay that darted from the hedge as they passed.
Nicholas continued to glare straight ahead as he drove the horse
and carriage. He gave no indication that he’d even heard what she’d
asked, other than flicking the reins at the pair.
“I know I was not very talkative on our
drive to Ballyclough. But I needed time to think and consider
everything between us. I needed to think through all that you told
me before we left.” A bump in the road jounced Jane against
Spencer’s side. She moved away only a little. “I have come to
accept that nothing between you and me can be simple. Our pasts,
our lives, even the people whom we care for seem to be doing their
best to wedge themselves between us.”
She stared at the familiar countryside.
“Though it might appear reckless to someone looking from the
outside—this life I have chosen for myself among the Whiteboys and
the locals—it fills some need in me. It is a deep-seated need for
justice…and for adventure, I suppose. There is security in what you
come to be comfortable with…even this. Despite the danger, I
consider the ground I walk upon solid…and good.”
He cast a sharp glance her way. “Are you
telling me that you do not want what is happening between us?”
She looped her arm through his and looked
into his eyes. “It would be much simpler if I could say that I do
not want it, but I cannot say that.” A layer of darkness lifted
from his expression. She brushed her cheek against the wool of his
jacket when his gaze shifted back to the road. “I wish I knew how
long this thing might last between us, but I have no such gift for
seeing into the future. The way I feel about you, though…the way
you’ve thrown my emotions and my life into such total disarray, I
cannot simply turn my back to it.”
She moved closer to him, trying to take
strength from his presence. “Most people search all their lives and
never find even once what I have been fortunate enough to come
across twice in my life. I am willing to take the chance.”
“How about Adams?”
He hadn’t even looked at her to ask the
question, and Jane understood his frustration. After all, she too
had been plagued with the same uncertainty this morning…about
Clara.
“He is a dear and trusted friend. Nothing
more.”
Nicholas frowned at the horses. “Perhaps to
your thinking. But there is a great deal more at his end.”
Jane searched for the right words to explain
what it was that made the friendship she shared with Henry so
different and special. “We’ve known each other all of our lives.
We’ve been as close as a brother and sister who are about the same
age can be. We’ve shared the same interests and beliefs. And for
many years, since Conor’s death, Henry has taken it on himself to
fill the emptiness that my parent’s treatment of me has created in
my life. He is always there if I need him. And he is as protective
of me as you would be of Frances.”
“I would not face someone who was waiting
for Frances the way he faced me today.”
“I believe you would,” Jane challenged. “Put
yourself in his position. What exactly does he know of you? He
believes, as we all did, that you came to Ireland to marry Clara.
Now he finds that you are spending many hours in my company.”
“I explained that to him today. But there
was no change in his hostility.”
“That is because Henry is a man of reason
and logic. He knows the scandal of my past. He knows that such a
past allows no possibility of a future in your society. Therefore,
he concludes you and I have no chance of finding a future
together…not an honorable one, at any rate.” As he opened his mouth
to speak, she shook her head and continued. “He is also aware of
how I feel about you…how much I care for you…and this disturbs him.
He is determined to intervene, for he does not wish to see me hurt
again. You cannot tell me that you would not do the same for
Frances…or for any friend who might have suffered in their lives. I
believe you would intervene if you thought that ill-conceived
choices were about to be made.”