Fateful Encounter

by June Francis

  She nodded. ‘I would like to return there, if possible.’

  ‘That can be arranged, although it might be wiser for you to return to England. This is not a country for lone women, Mistress de Wensley.’ He smiled austerely. ‘I doubt that any country is, and if you wished to stay on this manor of yours, I could not possibly provide you with constant protection. Besides, it is beyond my jurisdiction.’

  ‘I do not ask it, Your Grace. However, having come all this way, I would not wish to leave without ever setting foot on my own land.’

  ‘I understand that.’ He patted her hand. ‘You go, then, and I shall see that you have protection as far as Naas. Also, if there is no arrangement made for you to receive the rents due to you before you leave for England, I can do something about them.’

  ‘Thank you, but I am almost certain that they have been paid.’

  ‘That is all right, then.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You will take a cup of wine with me?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her heart was a little lighter as she watched a servant coming at his beckoning.

  The earl faced her again, his brow clouded. ‘I doubt that I need to warn you to be on your guard against O’More. For his own satisfaction, he chose to help you to warn the king — to be revenged against Sil.’

  A shadow darkened Constance’s momentary gladness. ‘I am not a fool, Your Grace,’ she said quietly, tilting her chin. ‘And I appreciate your concern.’

  He nodded, smiled, and pulled a ring from his little finger. ‘King Richard, I am afraid, is unable to see you. Following what you told us, we have had to change our plans. But he has bidden me to give this to you as a token of his gratitude.’ He handed her the ring. It was of gold, with a small ruby surmounted by tiny diamonds.

  ‘It is a generous gift,’ she murmured, lifting her head. ‘I did not expect any reward but that of serving my king.’

  ‘He is grateful for your warning, and grieved by your injury. It is not so long ago that he lost his own wife to the ravages of the plague, and he is sensitive to any person’s injury, especially a woman’s.’

  ‘I remember hearing about her death,’ she murmured. ‘They said that the king’s grief was so great that he burned down the Palace of Sheen, where Queen Anne died.’ She pushed the ring on to the middle finger of her right hand. It was slightly too large. ‘You will thank him for me?’

  ‘Certainly I will do so.’ The earl inclined his head, then leaned back as a servant set a salver between them on the table. ‘But you will heed my warning concerning O’More?’ He gazed at her intently. ‘I have heard that he has a certain charm that women find attractive. It was my god-daughter who told me so.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It was she who lent him my horse, so enabling him to escape from Dublin Castle when I was justiciar.’ He shook his head. ‘Girls, they are so easily deceived!’ He picked up the pewter cup. ‘To your future, Mistress de Wensley — may it be long and happy.’

  ‘Your health, Your Grace.’ She took only a sip of the wine, but he downed his in one gulp.’

  ‘Now I must leave you.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘I shall arrange an escort for you now — that is, if you are feeling well enough to travel?’

  ‘Ay, Your Grace.’ She guessed that she might well be in their way if she stayed. And besides — despite the dull ache in her arm — she wished to be on her way. Would Niall O’More come to seek her out?

  ‘I bid you farewell, Mistress de Wensley, and thank you again.’ He smiled down at her.

  She rose, putting down the cup. ‘I thank you for your kindness.’ She hesitated. ‘You will — not forget — about Robin Milburn, my kinsman, and Dermot O’Toole?’

  ‘No, child.’ He raised a hand and left her standing, then she sat to finish her wine and to consider her next step. She could not help wondering where exactly Niall had gone after he had left. Maybe his desire for revenge against Sil would take him to the mountains. Danger seems to draw the man, she thought vexedly, before chiding herself for even thinking about a scurvy horse-thief, who had used her in this matter for his own ends as he had in others. She stared moodily into the liquid sparkling in the cup before tossing it all back. Now she had to face the journey back to Naas. So much travelling, of late! She would be glad when she could stay put for a while.

  *

  Constance stared about her. It seemed incredible that she could have been here and not realised it was the place she sought. Had she not considered it familiar? There were the oaks grouping on a rise. There were the fields with men labouring among the sprouting barley and oats. She turned to Master Upton. ‘You say that the girls did not seem surprised to hear of my coming?’ she asked. ‘You did reassure them that I would not turn them out of the house?’

  ‘Ay.’ His jowls wobbled.

  ‘Good, Master Upton.’ She smiled at him reassuringly. ‘You say that you know the foster-brother?’

  He nodded. ‘All the years I’ve been collecting the rents and dues for the de Wensleys.’

  ‘Would you say that he is an honest man — a man that I could trust?’ Her fingers curled tightly on the reins as she considered how Niall had withheld from her the information concerning the whereabouts of her estate.

  Master Upton rubbed his chin. ‘He’s a fair man — and his foster-father trusted him implicitly.’

  ‘But was the foster-father to be trusted?’ she asked impatiently. This was not the answer she wanted, because she felt she needed another reason for Niall not to stay. She wanted to be rid of him immediately, so that he would not be around, setting her world upside-down and disturbing her emotions.

  ‘I believed him to be.’ There was bewilderment in Master Upton’s voice. ‘Have I done wrong to tell Master Niall that you would have need of his services?’

  ‘That has yet to be seen,’ she said coolly. ‘When last I was here, I was informed that he lived in the hills.’

  ‘He told me that he was no longer needed to the extent that he was last year.’ Master Upton pulled up abruptly, his eyes round with apprehension, as from round the side of the side of the house came the two wolfhounds. The nearest dog snapped at his boot, but desisted at the word of command from the man who came after them.

  Niall and Constance gazed at each other. He quirked one brow. ‘Good day to you, Mistress de Wensley. To be sure ‘tis a fine one that brings you here.’

  ‘Are you so sure about that, Master O’More?’ she replied in a chilly voice. The Earl of Ormonde’s warning was ringing in her ears. He charmed the women, did he? Well, his smile was not going to work on her!

  Some of the light died in his eyes. ‘To be sure I’m sure,’ he said quietly. ‘Now would you be accepting my hand to help you down?’

  ‘Why not?’ she replied sweetly, placing her fingers in his hand and sliding from the mare. His other hand steadied her, and for a second their bodies brushed against each other. She experienced a tingling sensation and moved back swiftly, a flush running along her cheekbones. ‘It will be the last time I will be needing your help, Master O’More,’ she said hastily.

  ‘And why is that?’ He took a step towards her. ‘Is it that you’re upset because I didn’t tell you about this being your estate?’

  ‘Of course! Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded, her temper flaring. ‘All the talk about scouring Wicklow to find me!’

  His expression was instantly as fiery as hers. ‘I said, if it were necessary! I thought you would be relieved to find me here waiting for you.’

  ‘Relieved!’ She threw up her arms. ‘Why should I be relieved to set eyes on a horse-thief and a deceiver? I would be relieved never to see you again, Master O’More.’

  ‘That’s easily remedied, Mistress de Wensley. I’ll go!’ He stared at her stonily. ‘But if you change your mind, you’ll have to beg me to come back, because I tire of your insults.’ He turned on his heel, and walked away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘SWEET JESU, mistress, have you taken leave of your senses?’ cried Master Upton, dismounting a
wkwardly, his expression one of distress. ‘Who will protect you if Master Niall isn’t here?’

  ‘Who protected Kathleen and Brigid when he wasn’t here?’ she snapped, her fingers curling and uncurling on her horse’s neck. ‘I don’t need the man.’ Her eyes were on Niall’s retreating figure.

  ‘He was never far away. Folk have only to hear that he’s withdrawn his protection from these estates, and they’ll come down on you from the hills like a flock of hungry crows.’

  ‘And how will they get to know? Is he going to tell them? What about his foster-sisters? Will he leave them without his protection?’

  ‘They are not here at the moment.’ He gnawed his lip anxiously.

  ‘What?’ She stared at him in surprise.

  ‘They have gone to the hills. It was the first of May yesterday, and they have taken the cows to their summer pasture. Brigid is expected back at any time — but if Master Niall is not here, she might not stay.’

  Constance’s face showed her sudden uncertainty, then her expression hardened. ‘That is her decision. You heard what Master O’More said — that I would have to beg him to come back. Inever beg, Master Upton. If you would see to the horses, I’m going inside the house.’

  He half-opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she turned and went inside. Nothing seemed changed inside the house, except for the quiet. Silence was suddenly a noiseless echo sounding in her head, one to which she had become accustomed in all the years of her marriage. She would have liked to have become better acquainted with Kathleen, but it seemed that it was not to be.

  She wandered about the hall, debating whether to stay. Now that she was here alone, her plans seemed nonsense. How many men had stressed that to her? How many times had the danger of her being alone been emphasised? This place belonged to her, and she wanted to stay — but wanting was not enough if she had no one to help her. Robin had been right, so had her father, and Ormonde, and Desmond. It seemed that she needed a man like Niall O’More if she were to remain.

  There was a noise at the door, and she turned eagerly, but it was only Master Upton with her baggage. ‘I think we’ll be needing water,’ he said, sinking wearily on to a stool, and dumping her baggage.

  He looked so woebegone that a stir of pity welled inside Constance. It was hot outside, and he was not a thin man! She smiled. ‘I shall go and fetch some. I know the way.’

  His face eased into a grin. ‘That’s kind of you, mistress. I’ll just stay awhile here out of the sun, if I may?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Master Upton.’ She patted his shoulder as she passed.

  As she walked to the river, she could not help remembering how she had seen Niall there, and how furious he had been when she dropped his clothes in the water. What had he said when they met again? She bit her lip in thought, the pail swinging from her fingers. Her spirits plummeted. He should have left her in the bog for thefomor, that was it. Yet he had not! How many times had he responded to her cry for help? Once — twice — thrice?

  Then her heart gave a treacherous leap as she saw Niall sitting on a rock. A small fire crackled a few feet away from him, over which hung several fish on a stick. He looked up at her and then away again, his arms hooked about his legs.

  Her throat was suddenly tight, and she had to swallow before she forced words out. ‘I — I thought you had gone?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m not sure whether I’m going or staying — yet.’ He looked at her, the grey eyes intense.

  Constance placed the pail on the ground and clasped her hands tightly behind her back. She could not beg him — she could not! But she wanted to keep him here, so she searched for something to say — anything! She cleared her throat. ‘Why are you cooking fish out here?’

  ‘Who wants to spend time indoors on such a day? Besides, it makes the hall less smoky.’ His tone was coolly polite as he made a move to remove the fish. ‘I caught them just before I had warning that you were coming. The fire was already lit, and I had considered asking you to dinner.’

  ‘Are you asking me now?’ A tentative smile tugged at her mouth.

  ‘That depends.’ He took up a wooden bowl and quickly placed the hot fish inside it.

  ‘On what — my begging you to stay?’ she retorted in a low voice.

  ‘No.’ He glanced at her quickly. ‘On whether you are considering staying for dinner.’

  ‘The fish smell delicious.’ She sat on the rock he had vacated and stared into the water.

  ‘They’ll taste just as good.’ Niall sat beside her. It was a tight squeeze, but he made no apologies nor asked her permission. His thigh was warm against hers, and she found that disturbing.

  ‘Did Master Upton tell you where the girls have gone?’ His eyes were on the task in hand as his fingers busied themselves with the slightly smoked fish.

  ‘To the summer pasture. He said that Brigid would be returning, but she might not stay if you weren’t here.’ She was silent as she looked across the river towards the Wicklow Hills, not really caring about Brigid staying — she would have preferred Kathleen’s company, but she needed him. ‘Are you staying?’

  ‘Are you asking me?’ His expression was sombre as he met her gaze. He edged the bowl towards her.

  ‘I — I’m asking.’ She looked down at the fish and took up a piece. Her cheeks were flushed as a result of his searching glance.

  ‘Why do you want me to stay?’ He took a bite of fish, his teeth crunching the crispy pieces.

  She lifted her head. ‘What is it you want me to say, Master O’More?’

  ‘That you need me here — that you want me to stay.’ He smiled unexpectedly. ‘Is it so much to ask?’

  She moistened her lips. ‘It is, when you are asking the mistress to say such things to the — the ...’

  ‘Servant?’ he supplied tersely.

  ‘I did not say that!’ she declared, remembering Ormonde’s statement that about half the Irishmen in Ireland claimed to be descendants of their kings. He was so proud, this man! She rose abruptly, so that Niall had to move quickly to prevent the bowl from falling. They exchanged looks. ‘You ask too much, too soon,’ she said.

  ‘Is it not true?’ He placed the bowl on the rock and stood behind her.

  ‘Isn’t what true — that you are the servant, or — or ... ?’ she floundered. How could she say that she wanted him and needed him?

  ‘Don’t you need me?’ he demanded. ‘Most of my life has been spent here. I know the men and their families. I speak their language in more ways than one. I understand horses! I would help you, woman, but you are too proud to see it!’ He seized hold of her and spun her round to face him. For several moments he stayed still, holding her, and all she could think of as they stood so close was that she was glad to be wearing the scarlet gown that so suited her colouring. Shock rippled through her at her sudden desire. No, it was almost a hunger in her — for his appreciation of her as a woman.

  ‘Am I so proud?’ she whispered. ‘Yet it is I who do not wish to offend your pride by saying the word “servant” after knowing that you have helped to oversee the manor for years. You have played the role of master here, and now I come from across the seas — the hated, the despised, English oppressor.’

  A slight smile crossed his face, and he flicked her cheek with a finger before realising that she might not like it — and he had vowed to keep his distance! ‘Hated — despised? No, Mistress de Wensley,’ he murmured, ‘you are none of those things. Unforgiving, maybe! Stubborn and courageous, ay! You are those things.’ He moved away. ‘I want to stay here and work for you because this is the place where I am happiest. I was brought up here. You are a woman alone who cannot stay without protection. So let us decide to stop fighting and work side by side for the future of the estate. And maybe, in time, we shall forget the past.’

  She nodded wordlessly, strangely moved by his words, although she had never thought herself so unforgiving — yet there were events in her life that she had never forgotten, things that Milo had
done to her that she found hard to forgive.

  Niall touched her arm. ‘Won’t you sit down again?’ She did so, and he placed the bowl on her knee. ‘I mentioned to you that at some time I would wish to find a stallion for Maeve. There is such a stallion in Connemara that I would like to buy. If you are in agreement, we could do so together. We need strength in a breed; a much more important trait than speed.’

  ‘You would need to go to Connemara to buy this horse?’ She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying, but his arm was against hers and she found his closeness once again distracting.

  He nodded. ‘I would not go just yet. I have been away from here for some time, and your coming will mean changes. In a month or so, maybe.’

  ‘This horse in Connemara is important to you?’ She picked up another piece of fish. She had regained her appetite now that their quarrel seemed over, and, moreover, the journey had made her hungry.

  ‘Ay!’ His face took on a dreamy expression. ‘He is strong, and could sire many foals that we could sell in England and Italy.’

  ‘Who would go with them?’ She licked her fingers, watching his face from the corner of her eye.

  ‘I would have to, of course. My foster-father took me with him to the fair at Lincoln when I was just a lad of maybe ten. And I have been to the fair at Antwerp and to several others with unpronounceable names in France and Italy.’ His face was bright with enthusiasm.

  ‘It would be dangerous.’ A shadow crossed her countenance.

  He looked up at her quickly, and shrugged. ‘Life is dangerous. Was it not so for you coming here? But that did not deter you, and you are a woman! The young horses become frightened at sea, and I would have to be there with them.’