'Don't worry, my love. She won't have got far, and the O'Neills will not be expecting her to follow. They'll believe they have frightened her too much for her to want to meet them again.'
'Then they don't know their niece! Alex, she asked to borrow my pistol.'
'Did you give it to her?'
'Yes. I taught her to shoot while we were in Oxfordshire, and I was so bored. She's quite good.'
He grinned. 'What a pity women are barred from Manton's! You would do well there.'
'How can Matthew bring her home? She won't agree to come back, and he can hardly pick her up and throw her into a chaise.'
'But he will be with her. Didn't you think his tirade last night was rather excessive?'
'He's worried, and besides - '
'Besides what?'
She shook her head. 'I'd better not say. It's probably my imagination. Alex, is there anything we can do here?'
'No, and you must not worry. Your little brother is a resourceful fellow. If anyone can deal with Brigid he can.'
*
Brigid fretted. She had been unable to obtain a ticket on the mail coach until the following day, so had to find a lodging for the night. Instead of staying at the inn where the mails started, she chose a small one some distance away. She was certain someone would be following her, either Matthew or Alex, or even a Bow Street Runner, and she had to evade them. It was also possible, though she thought it unlikely, that her aunt and uncle would be travelling by the same coach. They had left some days before and unless they had gone to Scotland in the hope of tracing Sinead, they would be well on their way to Ireland now. Surely, though, no one would consider following her unless they were certain where she was.
When the stage had left London behind, Brigid breathed a sigh of relief. She had outwitted them. She had managed to enter the mail coach without being seen. When she had approached the inn yard she had kept behind a large woman carrying several unwieldy bundles, and slipped past her to clamber up into the coach. Now she could plan her next moves. It could take a week to reach Dublin, so she had plenty of time.
She had travelled by stage before, but since living with Joanna in Yorkshire and Sophia in London and Oxfordshire, and using their private carriages, she had forgotten the discomfort and inconvenience. These coaches were far less well sprung than post chaises. This was not too great a problem when the roads were smoothly paved, but where the surface was rough the passengers were bounced around. She would be covered with bruises. One of the passengers, a man travelling to work at a government office, gloomily regaled them with descriptions of the dreadful roads once they reached Wales.
'If Thomas Telford can build a new road between Shrewsbury and Holyhead I for one will be eternally grateful. The next time I come back to England I will seriously consider travelling by sea, even if it takes me a month or more.'
The rattling discomfort inside the coach was not, Brigid decided, the worst. At the halts the passengers were given barely time to enter the inn and order a drink or some food before they were being hustled out to the coach again, often having had no time to do more than snatch a gulp of ale or coffee, and a few bites of food. Brigid chastised herself that she had not thought to bring with her some bread and sausages and cheese, when she would not have been dependent on the inns for food.
Brigid, anxious though she was to reach Ireland and discover the truth about her inheritance, and her grandfather's will, decided she could not tolerate the journey without a night's rest. Several of the passengers were staying the night at an inn in Coventry, and when they reached it Brigid climbed stiffly down from the coach and went into the inn, where the landlord was complaining he had not enough rooms, and they would have to share beds as well, unless they chose to pay highly for the privilege of a private room.
Brigid was just about to resign herself to sharing a bed with the fat woman, suspecting she would be occupying only a small portion of it, when a familiar voice behind her spoke.
'We will take your private room, landlord, and a private parlour.'
*
She swung round in dismay.
'Matthew! What are you doing here?'
'Making sure you don't, through your imbecile behaviour, run into danger,' he said. 'Now be quiet, and come upstairs.'
He grasped her arm and before she could object had propelled her half way up the stairs which led from the coffee room. A maid summoned by the preoccupied landlord was leading the way.
Brigid began to struggle.
'You have no right to order me about!'
'I mean to ensure you don't come to any harm,' he retorted, and slipped his arm round her waist, almost carrying her up the rest of the stairs and along a corridor till they were ushered into a small but welcoming room furnished with a table and two chairs, a sopha, and a cheerily blazing fire.
'Bring the best dinner the inn can provide,' Matthew said, and thrust Brigid into one of the chairs.
'The bedroom's through there, me lord,' the maid said, and giggled before backing from the room and closing the door.
'How dare you?' Brigid demanded. 'Why do you have to interfere? I am not going back with you. I am on my way to Ireland, to see the attorney, and nothing will stop me.'
Matthew sat facing her. 'I am here to try and protect you,' he said mildly. 'I could have forced you back home any time after you joined the stage. I could have prevented you from getting on it, but I decided instead to follow and try to protect you, since you are so determined to have your own way. You thought you had eluded everyone, but I was expecting to see you. It must have been a very uncomfortable journey.'
'Yes, it was, horrid!' Brigid replied before she remembered she was furious with him.
'Then I can offer you better comfort travelling post. Will you come with me the rest of the way?'
'You don't mean to try and make me turn back?'
'You wish to go to Ireland. I am coming in the hope of protecting you against murderous relatives.'
Brigid narrowed her eyes. 'How can I be sure this isn't a trick? Once I step into your chaise you could take me anywhere. I've never been this way, I don't know the roads.'
'Yes, I could abduct you, but you wish to go to Dublin, and I will ensure you reach it.'
She shook her head. 'Thank you, but I will stay on the mail. Thank you for obtaining this room for me. I confess it will be more comfortable than sharing a bed. Where are you going to sleep?'
He grinned. 'Where do you suggest? Can I not share your bed? Brigid, I once asked you to marry me. I still ask it. You refused because you had only the money you could earn for yourself. Now you are a woman of property, so do you consider yourself a suitable bride now?'
Despite her anger at his interference she was tempted to resign all her problems and permit him to deal with them.
'Property? I don't know how much, or what it is worth. I may find my grandfather had so many debts all the money and more will be needed to pay them off.'
'Then I will await your reply until we have the facts.'
Somehow she found this unsatisfactory.
'If I do inherit money, and then were to marry you, I would own my inheritance for just a few weeks or months,' she said, knowing she was being perverse.
'You could make sure you spent it all during that time. Or, of course, you could set up trusts for any children you might have, and I would not be able to touch the money.'
'Then I would be as poor as I am now.'
They were interrupted as a waiter brought in food and began to lay the table.
As they waited for him to retire Brigid tried to bring some order to her confused thoughts. She did not believe she was in danger. Why did Matthew still wish to marry her, and dare she, much as she wanted to, accept him before she knew whether she had enough fortune to make her acceptable to his family?
She knew they all liked her, but that was not the same as considering her a suitable bride for the youngest member of the Childe family.
And finally, i
f Matthew stayed at the same inn, even in the same rooms, would her reputation not be thoroughly compromised?
This last was an immediate problem which she returned to first after the waiter left the room.
'Come and eat, there's a tasty capon and green peas,' Matthew said as he poured out wine for them both.
She drew her chair to the table. After the rushed and scanty food she had managed to eat on the journey, it looked and smelt delicious. She thought what to say as she sipped the wine, while Matthew carved a wing and laid it on her plate.
'You can't sleep in the bedroom!' was all she could manage.
He grinned at her, that boyish, attractive grin which had first made her heart pound, and which still caused that wretched organ to contradict what she felt was the right response.
'I suppose I can find a little comfort on that tiny sopha,' he said, 'provided I can have one of the blankets from your bed. Then I can imagine we are snuggled up together under it.'
'Stop it! Matthew, I mean it. I suppose I ought to say I am gratified by your proposal, but I can't!'
'Then I will refrain from asking you again until you have seen the lawyer. How much do you consider will be an adequate dowry, to make you an acceptable bride? Five thousand pounds? Or do you rate yourself more highly? Ten thousand? Twenty? That would bring in more than six hundred or so a year, if my arithmetic is accurate. That would buy you a few gowns. It is fortunate I would be able to give you an allowance to double it. Judging by what my sisters spend on their finery you might be able to manage on that. Or do you want to have a bigger fortune than I have? Well, I won't object.'
Brigid did not know whether to laugh or weep. She drank more wine and hardly noticed when Matthew refilled her glass. She was hungry, and ate the meal, finishing with small cakes that tasted tantalisingly of lemon and honey. Then she glanced at the sopha.
'I will fetch a blanket,' she said quietly, and went into the bedroom.
'We have to be up early if you insist on going on the mail,' he said when she returned. 'Of course, if you came with me we could travel at our leisure.'
'No. Matthew, I am sorry, but I cannot make any decisions until I know where I stand. But I am grateful to you for your offer of protection. Good night.'
She almost ran back into the bedroom, where, despite her weariness, she could not sleep for thinking about Matthew.
*
They spent a second night in Shrewsbury, and the regular travellers warned Brigid the road beyond the Montford Bridge, which Telford had built five and twenty years earlier, was in places little more than a field track. She soon discovered the truth of this, and at the first halt to change horses she gave way and agreed to ride in Matthew's post chaise. She had never before felt so battered and worn.
They were able to pick their own pace, halt for a reasonable time to consume a meal, find a ferry to take them across the Menaii Straits, and still reach the harbour at Holyhead at the same time as the mail passengers.
Matthew paid off the post boys, and ushered Brigid on board the packet which would take them to Kingstown to the south of Dublin. It had been raining for the past few hours, and she looked in horror at the heaving seas beyond the harbour. It had never been like this in Brighton.
'How long will it take us to get to Ireland?' she asked.
'It's almost dusk now. We'll be sailing during the night, so you can sleep, and enjoy the voyage during the daytime tomorrow.'
'More than a whole day and night?' Brigid asked in horror.
'It can be even more, very occasionally, from what the men at the harbour say,' Matthew said, and he sounded apologetic.
Brigid shivered, but she stood and watched as the ship moved out and the harbour receded. Matthew stood beside her, an arm comfortingly round her waist. Soon it grew dark and they retreated below deck. For a while Brigid found herself swaying to the movement of the ship, listening to the slap of the sails above, but then she began to feel queasy with the motion.
'Come up on deck, you'll be better in the fresh air,' Matthew said and helped her to move.
For some reason it was amazingly difficult to stay upright, but they reached the deck and Matthew found a sheltered spot, made Brigid lie down with her head resting on his chest, and wrapped both their cloaks tightly round them.
'You'll be better here,' he murmured, and she desperately hoped he was right, for she felt dreadful and was having the greatest difficulty not being sick.
She lay there all night, resting in the comfort and safety of his arms, feeling desperately ill and longing only for the world to stay still. In the morning, one of the sailors cheerfully told them they had made good progress, and would be in Kingstown some time the following night.
Brigid groaned. 'I can't live so long!'
'Yes, you can. Have a sip of this brandy,' Matthew offered, dragging a small flask from a pocket in his cloak.
'I can't touch anything,' she protested, but he held the flask to her lips and involuntarily she swallowed some.
It did feel better as the fiery liquid burned her throat, but she shook her head as he offered more.
'You should try to eat something,' he suggested. 'It's always worse when you have nothing in your stomach.'
'Don't!' she protested, and when he laughed she wanted to hit him, but was too weak even to lift her hand.
She must have gone to sleep at some point during the day, for it was dusk when she was next conscious of the ship, and Matthew's arms still around her, warm and comforting.
'We'll be there soon,' he whispered. 'Do you feel better?'
'No,' she croaked, and accepted another sip of brandy. 'Can you see the coast?'
'In the distance,' he responded, and she sank back into a semi-stupor.
After what seemed weeks they docked in Kingstown harbour, and Matthew carried Brigid off the boat and hired a gig, which seemed to be the only kind of carriage available, to take them to the best inn.
He demanded the best room, carried Brigid up to it, and ordered one of the chambermaids to help her undress, wash and get into bed.
'There is probably a shift in the valise. I'll be back in half an hour.'
Though desperately weary Brigid found she was revived enough to sit up and accept the maid's sympathetic ministrations. When Matthew came back, with a waiter bearing a loaded tray, it seemed completely natural that he should be in the bedroom with her.
'I'm hungry,' she discovered, as the welcome smell of coffee, ham and eggs came to her. 'And I'm never going to leave Ireland! I cannot face that journey again!'
'You'll have forgotten all about it when you've had a good meal,' he said, coming to stuff more pillows behind her so that she could sit up in bed. 'Here, drink this coffee.'
She did, gratefully, and declared she was ready for food. He laughed, piled a plate high with ham and eggs, and brought it across to her. Brigid thought she had never tasted such delicious fare.
'I have another room,' he told her when she was replete. 'After the past few nights I feel the need for a comfortable bed.'
'Oh, I'm so sorry!' Brigid exclaimed. 'Those small sophas, and you were sitting on the deck all night, and all day. You must be exhausted. Thank you for looking after me. I think I would have died without you.'
'There was a compensation, being able to hold you in my arms. But sleep now, and tomorrow we will go to Dublin and find your attorney.'
*
Chapter 17
Having driven to Dublin and booked into an inn there it was easy to find the elder Mr O'Keef's office, near the centre of the town. They were told neither he nor the son who worked with him, however, was available that day, though they could hear voices in the inner room, and they were asked to come back in the morning. Brigid was frustrated.
'After all the effort I went to in order to get here, I have to wait!' she fretted.
To occupy the time they went to view the magnificent houses, the wide streets and spacious squares that had been built in the previous century, and to their
dismay discovered that many of these had already become little more than slums.
'How can the owners permit this to happen?' Brigid asked, 'They are such lovely houses.'
'I suspect many of the owners lost interest in coming to Dublin after the Act of Union. The Irish parliament was disbanded, so there was less need for them to be here.'
'That is a pity.'
It was a quiet day, and Brigid, still feeling the effects of the long journey and the horrendous sea crossing, went to bed early. In the morning they went once more to the O'Keef offices and were admitted to Mr O'Keef's private sanctum, the clerk announcing them as Miss O'Neill and Mr Matthew Childe. The elderly man sitting behind a large desk, wearing a badly tied coloured cravat and an old-fashioned wig surveyed Brigid without comment, but she felt he was disapproving of her, and this impression was supported with his first words.
'You maintain your name is Brigid O'Neill and you are the granddaughter of Mr O'Neill of Ballybridge Castle?'
Brigid stared at him in amazement.
'I am Brigid O'Neill, sir, I am no imposter as you are suggesting!'
'Do you think the lady might sit down?' Matthew asked, his tone bitingly cold, and pulled a chair near to the desk, then made Brigid sit in it. Without asking, he fetched another for himself and sat beside her.
'Who are you, sir? And what is your interest in the matter? You are not, I think, related to the O'Neill family?'
'I am here to make sure Miss O'Neill is treated fairly,' Matthew snapped. 'She has been a friend of my family for a considerable time.'
'I have here a statement made at the time of my parents' marriage, by the vicar who performed the ceremony,' Brigid said hurriedly, bringing it from her reticule. She would fight her own battles, though she was suddenly thankful for Matthew's reassuring presence. 'There is also one regarding my baptism. Does that satisfy you as to my identity?'
Mr O'Keef scrutinised the documents, sniffed, and seemed reluctant as he handed them back.
'Very well, I must accept these as proof. Why did you or your father not come forward at the time of your grandfather's death? And surely it would have been more fitting for your father to be acting on your behalf?'
The Irish Bride Page 16
