The Music Makers

Home > Other > The Music Makers > Page 27
The Music Makers Page 27

by E. V. Thompson


  ‘The captain is a sporting man,’ he reported. ‘He recognised me. It seems he has seen me fight twice, once in the port of Liverpool, the other time in London. I told him I had been teaching Jeremy to fight and he said he would have him brought from the hold and set to work where he could keep an eye open for him.’

  ‘Well done, Nathan. I wish our journey to the mountains had been as successful. It’s time we returned to Kilmar – and I have some good news to tell you along the way.’

  In London, Sir Richard Dudley was dining with Sir Robert Peel, a meeting arranged between the two men by a mutual friend. Inevitably, in view of Sir Richard Dudley’s Treasury duties in Ireland, the talk turned to that country and its troubles.

  ‘Ireland has its problems,’ admitted Sir Robert Peel. ‘But they differ very little from those I had to attend to when I was Chief Secretary for that wretched country. If we could somehow damp down Eugene Brennan and his All-Ireland Association, the happenings there might drop out of the news. The man is the bane of my life. Offer him your right hand and he’ll want your left. Give him your left and he’ll ask for the right.’

  This was exactly the opening for which Sir Richard Dudley had been waiting. Leaning across the table, he said, ‘What if I offered to cut off both Mr Brennan’s hands for you – metaphorically speaking, of course?’

  England’s Prime Minister was interested, but wary.

  ‘Perhaps you would care to explain yourself more fully?’

  ‘Would it be to your advantage if he were to be discredited in the eyes of his countrymen and of his association?’

  ‘It would, but heroes of Eugene Brennan’s stature are difficult to topple.’

  ‘Not if I were able to prove his dishonesty beyond doubt.’

  ‘Dishonesty? Eugene Brennan? Never! The man is a thorough nuisance but he is painfully honest.’

  ‘Your generosity to a political opponent does you great credit, Sir Robert, but what if his dishonesty were to be proven in a court of law?’

  ‘My dear Sir Richard, if you were able to prove such a thing, you could request your own government department and I would give it to you. The pressure would be off me and the Irish problem would regain its proper perspective. I would be able to govern the country without hindrance once more. But, I repeat, I very much doubt whether you will ever be able to prove anything against the honourable Irish member.’

  ‘We shall see. We shall see.’

  Sir Richard Dudley settled back in his chair, fondling the brandy-glass he held in his hands. He had received the promise of advancement he had been seeking. Eugene Brennan had done nothing to bring the fisherman to court as Sir Richard had requested. Very well. They would both be involved in the scandal that was about to break.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  On his way to Kilmar, Liam called at Inch House with Nathan Brock to tell Caroline of his meeting with Eugene Brennan. He had known she would be pleased to hear he intended standing for Parliament, but her impetuous delight took him by surprise. With a sudden surge of enthusiasm, she flung herself at Liam and hugged him excitedly.

  ‘Oh, Liam! I am so pleased for you. I really am.’

  Over her shoulder, Liam could see Nathan Brock’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Extricating himself from her embrace as gently as he was able, he found it impossible not to smile at her pleasure.

  ‘I doubt whether my mother will be quite so happy with my news.’

  ‘Of course she will, Liam. When she has had time to think about it she will be the proudest woman in County Wexford. But before you go home we must celebrate this news.’

  She pulled the bell-cord hanging by the beautiful fireplace. When the butler appeared she asked him to bring a bottle of her brother’s best champagne from the cellars.

  Later, when Nathan Brock was walking with Liam as far as the lodge gate, the ex-prizefighter said, ‘Lady Caroline is very fond of you, Liam.’

  ‘She takes a great deal of interest in the welfare of all the folk hereabouts.’

  ‘That is not what I am saying, and you know it well. What there might be between you is none of my business—’

  Nathan held up a big right hand to silence Liam’s protest. ‘I am only saying that if I can see it, then so can others, and it will bring you trouble.’

  Nathan Brock looked at Liam honestly and squarely.

  ‘I speak as a friend, Liam. You have travelled far along a road that few of us even set foot upon. Don’t throw everything away for an indiscretion.’

  Liam gave much thought to Nathan Brock’s words along the road to Kilmar. He knew that his friend spoke the truth. Lady Caroline was a lovely and very lonely woman and she was becoming less and less discreet about her feelings for Liam. Any scandal would damage her reputation as surely as it would Liam’s.

  Yet Liam found her attentions flattering. More than that, he wanted her to show that she cared for him.

  He wished he could analyse his own feelings for her with equal honesty. He knew he should look back at their relationship in London with shame, but he felt no shame when he thought about their nights together, only a deep hunger and painful memories.

  He knew he should try to forget her. She had a husband and he was being constantly reminded that her background was far removed from his own, but there was something in Liam that refused to face all the facts. Lady Caroline herself would laughingly refer to it as a typical example of Irish stubbornness. Perhaps it was; but it was not stubbornness that brought uninvited thoughts of her to him when sleep was slow in coming.

  Liam arrived home as his mother was preparing for bed, and she greeted his return with great relief. Hurriedly dressing, she prepared a meal, knowing there would be little sleep tonight. As the meal was cooking she questioned him closely about Dermot and Kathie. He was able to give her most of the answers she wanted, and then the families of the other exiled Kilmar men began to arrive, begging for news. Within half an hour the whole village was awake and Liam’s every word was relayed from house to house.

  Soon the little McCabe cottage was so crowded that it was becoming difficult to move. Liam repeated his story three times for the benefit of late-comers, then he announced he would call a meeting of the All-Ireland Association for the following evening and there tell the villagers everything he and Nathan Brock had learned in the Wicklow mountains.

  Gradually, the villagers drifted away to their own homes. Then Liam saw Tomas Feehan standing in the doorway, talking to one of the fishermen.

  ‘Tomas, I would like a word with you when the others have gone.’

  Tomas Feehan frowned. He had never been on the best of terms with the McCabes and he made no secret of his view that Dermot McCabe was responsible for the abortive raid in which Sean had been killed. Only the thought that Liam must have something to tell him about Eoin kept him in the room. He stood to one side, tight-lipped and morose, as the chattering women of Kilmar and their menfolk made their way from the cottage.

  As the last of them went out through the door, Father Clery came in looking decidedly ruffled.

  ‘Why is it I am always the last to be told of what is going on in my own village?’ he grumbled. ‘There I am, all prepared for bed, when I suddenly realise that I can’t hear myself pray for the prattle of women outside. When I come out of the house and ask what is going on, I am told, “Liam McCabe is home and will be addressing a meeting of the Association tomorrow night.” Tell me, is there something I ought to know?’

  A couple of women, slow to leave and anxious not to miss anything of importance that might be said, hung back in the doorway. Ushering them out, Liam closed the door behind them before answering.

  ‘Yes, there is, and I’m glad you’ve come, Father. I have something to tell to Tomas that he is not going to want to hear.’

  Tomas Feehan lost his indifference immediately. ‘What is it? Is it Eoin? You’re not trying to tell me that I’ve lost my other son?’

  ‘He’s alive, Tomas, but don’t give thanks for that unt
il you’ve heard what I have to say.’

  Norah McCabe could see by Liam’s manner that he had something serious to say to Tomas Feehan and Father Clery. She still had many questions to ask about Dermot, but she had learned he was well; everything else would keep until the morning. After telling Liam that the kettle was on the fire and an ounce of tea in the cupboard, she went to bed.

  Liam had not yet told his mother of his talk with Eugene Brennan, but that, too, would wait until the morning.

  Hesitantly at first, Liam told the two men the story of the raid on the mountain hideout and of its consequences. Then he told Tomas Feehan what Jeremy had learned of Eoin Feehan’s part in the death of his younger brother.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ burst out the burly fisherman before Liam had finished talking. ‘You have only that boy’s word for what was said. By his own admission he is a thief who knows no decent way of life.’

  ‘He had no reason to lie, Tomas,’ said Liam quietly. ‘And Eoin himself admitted he was the cause of Sean’s death. True, he said he did not know it was his own brother when he told the soldiers to kill him.’

  ‘It’s not true! It can’t be true!’ Tomas Feehan whispered, more to himself than to the others.

  ‘It gives me no pleasure to tell you,’ said Liam. ‘But the facts are there to see, Tomas. Eoin was taken by the soldiers. He bought his freedom with the life of Sean and the name of every Kilmar man who took part in the raid on the grain-wagons.’

  Tomas Feehan’s face showed the struggle taking place within him for control of his feelings, and his hands alternately clenched and opened as he thought his own terrible thoughts.

  ‘Where is Eoin now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Liam told the distraught fisherman what had been done to his son, but he did not tell him it was Kathie who had fired the crippling shot.

  Tomas Feehan stood up suddenly and looked at Liam fiercely. ‘They should have killed him. Why did they allow him to live?’

  ‘Don’t say such a thing, Tomas.’ Father Clery put a hand on the burly fisherman’s arm. ‘Whatever you are thinking now, don’t wish ill upon your own son.’

  ‘From this moment I have no son. I never want to see or hear of Eoin again and I thank God his mother never lived to see this day. To know that this is what we worked so hard for, struggling to build a future for two sons. Determined they wouldn’t be tied to the life of a curragh fisherman for all of their days.’

  Unchecked tears were streaming down the face of the tough fisherman as he turned to the priest.

  ‘You’ve known me since I was a boy, Father. What have I done in my life to deserve the punishment God is giving me now?’

  ‘If I understood the good Lord well enough to answer that, I would be more than a simple parish priest, Tomas. I can only offer you my help, and my prayers. I will pray for Eoin, too, as he goes through life with his own mark of Cain upon him.’

  ‘Pray that he never returns to Kilmar,’ said Tomas Feehan with frightening venom. ‘For if he does I will have to kill him, and I doubt if the Lord will forgive me for that.’

  With these terrible words, Tomas Feehan turned and stumbled blindly from the McCabe house, ignoring Father Clery’s call.

  When the priest would have followed the distraught fisherman, Liam stopped him.

  ‘Tomas Feehan will need to be alone for a while. There will be time enough to talk to him later.’

  Father Clery shook his head sadly, ‘You are right. I hate to see anyone with so much pain locked inside him, but Tomas is an independent man. He wouldn’t thank me for chasing after him. Perhaps you ought to be telling me what else you learned while you were in the mountains.’

  Liam repeated his story for the fourth time and also told Father Clery of his meeting with Eugene Brennan and their plans for the future. When he ended, the little priest could hardly contain his excitement. He clasped Liam’s hand and pumped it with both his own.

  ‘That’s wonderful news, Liam. News that has brightened a terrible year. I am so proud of you that I could burst into tears. To think that a boy I taught in my own school should end up in Parliament in London! It makes up for all the frustrated years spent uselessly trying to cram a modicum of learning into the heads of children who are working just as hard to push it out again. Did Eugene say when he would be putting you up as a candidate?’

  ‘He said he would let me know soon enough, but right now I would like your advice on how much to tell tomorrow night’s meeting about everything that has happened.’

  The two men talked together far into the night. Upstairs in her room, Norah McCabe listened to the drone of their voices and speculated on what they were saying. She had heard Tomas Feehan leave hurriedly and knew that something of importance was happening. Silently she prayed that, whatever it might be, it would not take a second son from her.

  The next morning Liam told his mother of his agreement with Eugene Brennan. The news was so startling and exciting that it did not matter that Liam would have to spend long periods away from his home.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ she asked him for the third time as he ate his breakfast.

  ‘I’m fairly sure,’ he repeated patiently. ‘If ever I become tired of the grand life, I can always come back here to you and our boat. In the meantime there will be no shortage of men willing to work it for us. I will arrange all that before I leave.’

  ‘I know you will, Liam.’

  Norah McCabe was quiet for a long time, and then she said, ‘I want you to know I am proud of you, Liam. Your father would have been, too, God rest his soul; but it’s a strange world to be living in. Here am I with one son away in the mountains fighting for Ireland and my other son about to go away to London to do the same thing, but in the Parliament. Work hard at it when you get there, Liam, for you’ve got to be showing Dermot and the others that your way is the right way.’

  A few evenings after the meeting of the All-Ireland Association, Liam’s boat bumped against the stone of the Kilmar quay and as he stepped ashore with the rope to moor the boat a small boy jumped down the steps to meet him, breathless with the importance of his mission.

  ‘Mrs McCabe says will you come home right away. There’s a fine lady with a carriage waiting to meet you,’ he added.

  ‘It sounds as though Lady Caroline is here to see me,’ said Liam to Tommy Donaghue. ‘She might have a message from Eugene Brennan about the by-election. Look after things here for me.’

  ‘Haven’t I been doing that for weeks? Ah well! With you moving up in society I suppose I had better be getting used to it. Away with you now; there’s more to life than gutting fish with a silly old man for company.’

  Caroline had a message from Eugene Brennan, but it was not the one Liam had been expecting.

  ‘Liam, you have got to go away from here,’ she said, as soon as he walked into the cottage. ‘I have had word from Eugene. He has been arrested in London and charged with stealing money collected for the famine relief fund.’

  Before Liam could recover from the shock of her incredible news, she said, ‘You are to be arrested, too. Constables are on their way here from London to take you back with them.’

  ‘But that is ridiculous. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘I know you haven’t. It is a plot to discredit Eugene; but that will not prevent you from being arrested and carried to London. You must leave Kilmar and go into hiding until the constables have gone. You can come to Inch House and stay there, if you wish.’

  ‘No.’ While she had been talking, Liam’s thoughts were racing ahead of her words, assessing their implications, and now he reached a decision. ‘I am not running. There will not be two members of this family outside the law. I am innocent and nobody can prove otherwise. This must be some stupid mistake. I will stay in Kilmar until the constables arrive and try to persuade them of my innocence. If I fail, I will go to London with them and prove it there.’

  ‘That is foolish, Liam.’ Caroline was so distraught tha
t Norah McCabe looked from Liam to her sharply. ‘We know you have done nothing wrong, but proving it may not be quite so straightforward. More than one innocent man has been wrongfully convicted. Go into hiding until Eugene Brennan has won his case in court. He may well establish your innocence at the same time.’

  ‘I am grateful to you for coming here, Caroline, but I am not having it said I ran from justice. I am not afraid of standing trial.’

  ‘If you refuse to help yourself, then your friends will have to do it for you. I intend leaving for London today. By the time you are brought there I will have arranged for the best lawyer in London to take your case.’

  So genuine was Caroline’s concern for Liam that it took away much of the sting of her news for him and he smiled warmly at her. ‘Eugene is as good a lawyer as you will find anywhere. I am sure he has already organised our defence. You must not involve yourself, Caroline.’

  ‘Eugene is an old man. He makes mistakes. One of them is to believe that all men are as honourable as he is himself. I will go to London and do whatever I think is necessary. I will send Nathan here to help with your fishing business while you are away.’

  Norah McCabe followed Caroline outside. She had been watching the younger woman carefully during the time she had been in the McCabe cottage and was very concerned about what she had seen. As Caroline was about to step into her carriage, Norah McCabe asked, ‘Will Liam be kept in prison while he is in London?’

  ‘No, I will stand bail for him.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  Norah McCabe hesitated before asking the question that had been bothering her. ‘Why are you taking such an interest in my son?’

  Caroline paused, with one foot on the carriage step. Slowly she set it back on the ground and turned to face Liam’s mother.

  ‘Your son and I are friends, Mrs McCabe. I am happy to be in a position to help him.’

  Norah McCabe studied the other woman’s face. There was certainly concern in the wide-spaced eyes of this beautiful woman; but her unhappiness was also there for any observant woman to see, and Norah McCabe could guess at its reason.

 

‹ Prev