by Lignor, Amy
“Just one thing?” Charles snorted. “I guess you weren’t really listening.”
Liz took a deep, steadying breath. “You said that Jason had to ride out of town just as fast as you did.”
“I remember.”
“Well…what exactly happens when the two of you ride back in? I mean, you weren’t really going to be hanged, were you? Maybe it’s not a good thing that you still look like you did back then.” Liz began to stutter, as strange words spilled from her lips. She didn’t want to accuse Charles of anything illegal, but panic had taken over her soul.
Charles smiled. “We weren’t going to be hanged, Liz. We just weren’t supposed to leave.”
She walked closer; it felt like her very soul was begging for more information. “Go on.”
“We left a few people behind who were angry with us, is all.” His voice came out as a whisper. “I can only imagine what she’ll do when they all see us again. There’ll be a battle.”
“She? Is there a woman waiting there? Like…one who was left at the altar?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “You do listen to every single word, don’t you?”
Liz waited.
“I suppose you could say that.”
“Someone who holds a rather high place in society?” Liz pressed on.
Charles dropped the brush, leaving Angel’s knotted mane alone. “I really don’t want to get into this.”
She waited.
“Yes,” he sighed. “I was betrothed, as all young men of good breeding are in that world. I was supposed to follow in the family footsteps. Marry the girl, run the company, change the world, et cetera.” Charles shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. “It was a world of lies; stealing from the poor, making partnerships with those who would sell their children’s souls for a piece of the pie. She knew the way we would live, the way we would receive our money, and it didn’t bother her one bit.”
He sat down on the bench. “My father’s an importer, Liz—a shipping magnate who brings riches to the poor Irish folk. He surrounds himself with silks, jewels—even women, who he buys to keep the men on board happy until they’re sold into houses for maid service…and any other services they can provide.” His voice grew quiet. “And there are other shipments—shipments that bring a very large fortune.”
Liz asked, “Illegal shipments?”
Charles sighed. “Opium is imported through various partnerships. Other…plants and herbs come over, too. That’s his empire. He even said that if it made me uneasy, I should become a barrister. That way, with someone high up in the law, I could make sure that his business dealings were overlooked…and I’d be paid handsomely in the process. Slaves and drugs…nice, aye?”
“And your future wife knew all this?”
“Knew about it? Let’s just say that she personally liked those shipments,” Charles laughed. “I just thought that she was a terribly happy individual. I was stupid, I suppose. Her beauty hid the reality, so I didn’t see her for what she really was.” He scuffed his brown boots in the dirt. “Her father was in business with mine. He sold slaves—all kinds—to support the life he’d grown accustomed to. Not even from other countries, mind you. They bought up the banks and foreclosed on the local farms then sold our own neighbors into the homes of the rich. And after stealing everything they had, they actually wanted gratitude for clothing and feeding them. Paying a paltry sum for their work and their loyalty to the ‘family.’ Our fathers made it seem as if they were saviors, instead of the merciless creatures they really are. They destroyed people’s dreams so that they could wrap themselves in satin every night.”
“I’m sorry, Charles.” Her heart broke at the look of disgust on his face. “But you’re not one of them.”
His bright green eyes dimmed. “I was supposed to take over. I didn’t. Then the father of my betrothed was killed by some of the people he’d ‘helped’ over the years. Someone finally had enough, I suppose. Or, maybe my father decided he didn’t want to share the wealth anymore and had him eliminated. Who knows? I saw the open road and I took it as soon I as could to get away from that life.”
“My God,” Faith whispered.
Liz watched her stunned friend walk through the stable doors. Quite obviously she’d overheard the entire horrific story.
Charles stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, Faith. There’s really nothing I can say. I was young. I was caught up in a world of money and false promises. I just decided to ignore how the wealth was collected, or how many lives were affected by it.” He stared past Faith and his eyes grew wide.
Jason stood in the door; his cheeks were bright red and his hands were balled into fists at his side.
Charles swallowed and looked back at Faith. “I didn’t love her. It was just…expected.”
Faith’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish you’d waited for me.”
“I did, that’s why I left.” He came forward and took her hands in his. “I wasn’t going to settle for that life. It wasn’t only the lies. Every time I looked into her blank expression, I wished for someone else. I wanted something more and I found her…in you. Please don’t hold my past against me.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Honestly? I never wanted to see the look in your eyes that I’m seeing right now. You’re disappointed in me.”
Faith pulled him to her. “You have to go back, Charles. You know that you have to face up to the responsibilities you left behind. This is eating away at you. If it was wrong, then change it, but don’t run away. The monsters can be stopped, Charles.” Faith smiled up at him. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. We all will. Besides, it’s about time I met my in-laws.”
Jason glared at Charles. “You told her everything?”
“No, your lady friend, as always, figured it out.”
Liz mumbled, “I wasn’t trying to find out, I swear. I just wanted to know what kind of help you two would need—what entity we were going up against.”
Charles tilted his head. “Entity? What a strange way of saying it.”
Liz shrugged and began to comb her fingers through Angel’s snarled mane.
Jason smirked. “Did you think we were murderous outlaws, Beth?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Not one of us seems to tell the whole truth, so I just wanted to be prepared, that’s all.”
Charles spoke, “And what would you have done if I said we couldn’t be seen in Dublin again?”
Liz smiled from behind the horse that was now nuzzling her face with its cold nose. “I would’ve changed your appearance.”
Charles took a step back from her. “I definitely do not want to know what that would have entailed.”
Liz mounted the waiting black horse, leaving Angel’s mane perfectly detangled, and reached down for Jason’s hand.
He jumped up on Knight’s back, and shrugged at Charles’ dazed expression. “She’s a strange one. I’ll give you that.”
“Actually, she’s a keeper if you ask me, boy. I, for one, would love to see your looks change. I’m growing tired of looking at you—a change might be nice.”
Jason threw a punch at Charles as he walked by leading his stallion. “You’re not exactly my type either, friend,” he said, urging his horse forward. “Let’s go, Knight.”
Charles turned to Faith and pulled her close. “I love you.”
“You’re the man I admire, Charles,” Faith said quietly. “Now let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There were so many emotions racing through her, Liz’s brain spun in circles. The scenery was familiar—green and healthy as God intended it to be. But the large shadows cast by the towering trees were menacing. Enormous gnarled limbs seemed to reach out, ready to capture them as they rode past. A strange choir of voices seemed to whisper inside Liz’s head issuing a warning. Be afraid. Be alert. Be careful.
She leaned back against Jason. His unyielding posture and defined muscles spoke a language a
ll their own. He was tight-fisted with the reins; his spine was straight and his eyes never wavered from the path ahead.
She looked over his shoulder at Charles and Faith riding behind them. Charles’ decision to travel back to his past had changed his normally calm appearance. From a distance, he now looked more like a young boy. His head moved from side to side, scanning the path for whatever hidden dangers might suddenly rise up and hurt them. Maybe the trees reminded him of his family; the gnarled limbs representing the evil ones who wanted to slice him until he bled to death.
Liz continued to stare behind her, watching the lovely mare bow her head to the ground. Angel looked as if she didn’t want to see where they were going either, hoping her nervous master would turn around and ride in the other direction.
Unlike the rest of the downtrodden party, Faith wore a determined look. It was as if she’d thought the situation over and had come to the conclusion that whoever was in Dublin—whatever lay at the end of the road—she wanted to face head-on and help her true love bury the ghosts of his past.
Angel suddenly raised her head and began to gallop, attempting to catch up with her partner. Knight whinnied to the mare and the horses slowed down, as lights appeared in the distance.
“We’re back,” Charles muttered as his whisper raced through the ancient graveyard they were passing.
Liz looked down at the broken stones lying haphazardly beside the road. The overgrowth of weeds obscured the names of the saints and the sinners, and a cold chill raced down her spine.
“It’ll be all right,” Jason whispered. He put his hand around her waist. “Promise me, that while we’re here—no matter what happens—you’ll come see something with me. Okay? Promise?”
“I promise.”
Charles groaned and pulled his horse to a stop. “Well…what now? Should we head over to visit with the parents?”
“We could seek an inn for the night and be fresh in the morning.”
Charles smiled at Faith’s helpful suggestion. “He owns the inns too, darling, or at least the servants inside them. It’d only be a matter of minutes before he showed up.”
“At least an inn would be neutral ground. Their home is their territory.”
“Everything is their territory,” Jason whispered.
“As always, my friend is correct. They own it all. So let’s proceed with strong backs and an unbreakable will to the main house, and get this foolishness over with as quickly as possible,” Charles declared.
Soon the edgy quartet rode through the gates of the grand city. The big stone arch declared the name of the city in fancy scrollwork above their heads. It looked like the entrance to the cemetery they’d just passed, except the corpses behind these gates, according to Charles, were still walking around in their Friday evening finery searching for the next person whose life they could destroy.
Soon some of those proud gentlemen, dressed in their fancy frocks, rode up beside them, and stared with wide eyes before quickening their pace and moving on. Strange looks were offered from the people on the streets as they blinked their eyes and stared at Charles astride his white horse. Some of the men bowed cordially to Liz and Faith, while the women on their arms offered looks of open hostility.
Liz saw the overwhelming difference in social class when they approached the wealthier section of the city. The street was lined on both sides with trees wrapped in iron cages; the dogs wore leashes adorned with velvet ribbons; the horses’ manes were braided with gold and silver cord. Ladies protected their heads with pretty bonnets and lacy parasols, while the men buttoned their jackets before setting their tall, elegant hats firmly in place. Cigarettes were wrapped in silver holders; even the smoke seemed to rise in a filigree pattern toward the twilight sky. It was as if they’d crossed into a different world.
Liz studied the fancy surroundings as the final seconds of daylight ticked by. The torches didn’t move; the breeze was still. It was as if even the wind had better manners on this side of town. The dirt path turned to cobblestones in a lovely pattern of rust, gray and copper. Most likely carefully set by someone who’d slaved in the hot sun in order to provide a more comfortable ride for the ornate carriages.
The marketplace grew smaller and the bellowing tradesmen disappeared. Taking their place were brightly colored shop windows offering a peek at lovely silver tea sets and the most beautiful gowns Liz had ever seen.
She glanced down at her scruffy wardrobe, noticing the cold stares being shot at her from the women on the street. She suddenly felt as if she were a slave being sold at auction—studied and disapproved of without ever being spoken to. She also noticed that the cold stares became interested when their eyes fell upon Jason and Charles. The unescorted ladies stopped in their tracks and stared with blatant desire at the handsome men.
Faith gasped. Liz saw the pride leave her friend’s face as she, too, realized that they stuck out like dirty geese among a village of swans.
They slowed down as they came across a long procession of horses and covered coaches winding all the way down the street.
“What’s all this?” Faith asked the coachman directly across from them.
Two figures sat in the darkness of the glass-enclosed carriage, glaring at Faith for daring to address their servant. But Faith laughed aloud when the man in the carriage winked at her over his lady’s well-dressed shoulder.
She turned to Liz. “These lovely Dubliners are a little rude, don’t you think?” Her voice grew louder. “Maybe the ladies could paste a smile on their pinched little faces, and the so-called gentlemen could stop leering long enough to answer a simple question.”
“These aren’t Irish Dubliners,” Jason interrupted. “These are just imports. Trust me, each one you see dressed up like a clown was bought and paid for.”
“Are they Americans?” Liz inquired.
He turned and whispered in her ear, “Some, others are the English who came to trade with us dirty old Irishmen. At least that’s what Charles’ father said they called us.”
Charles laughed beside them. “You see, Liz, the English feel that the Irish don’t have a proper education. We’re only farmers and have a hard time with social graces. Some of the faces you see are people trying to change their ways in order to fit in with the imported snobs.”
Liz placed her hand on Jason’s cheek. “It’s okay. They have people like this everywhere.”
Jason cut in, “We know, Beth, but the minds seem much smaller here.”
“You can say that again,” Charles grumbled. “And I can tell you that we’re on a journey to meet some of the smallest of them all.”
Charles stopped Angel outside the doors of a large saloon. He snorted along with his horse. “The cottage where I was born is right up this road, but I think we should walk the rest of the way. The carriages all seem to be going in that general direction, which means there’s a strong possibility that my father is having yet another of his silly parties in order to declare himself king of the world.”
Faith dismounted behind Charles, as Jason tied up Knight beside Angel. He patted the stallion’s mane, offering him an apple that he’d stolen from one of the orchards just outside of town.
Charles laughed, “Dad’s?”
Jason nodded. “My horse is eating your inheritance. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? If they could digest silver and silk, I would give all I have to Angel. God knows, this horse deserves more than any of these jackasses.”
They walked hand-in-hand—Charles with Faith and Jason with Liz—up the cobblestone sidewalk. Jason hummed along with the Irish ditties that wafted out of the saloon doors as Liz raised her head and looked across the street at a lovely church. “Next to the saloon?” she mumbled. “How perfect for prayer.”
Charles laughed. “A mug in one hand, a Bible in the other. Hmmm…actually, I think the church owns this pub.”
“A church owns the local saloon?”
“Um-hum,” Charles answered. “Makes church much
more entertaining if you stop by the pub first. And when the priest stops by on a Sunday morning, the sermon is much funnier.”
Liz laughed aloud, as Jason put his arm around her waist escorting her carefully past the carriages. Her ears burned when she heard Charles’ name being whispered by the strangers milling around them.
Faith’s voice broke the silence, “Are they talking about you, my love?”
“Who knows? It’s kind of early yet, so maybe the drunks can still see straight enough to recognize me. They’re stuck in line all the way down the street. We’re sure to arrive at the house first, ensuring that our return will be an unexpected surprise.”
They walked in silence. Liz kept her head down, staring at the torn slippers peeking out from underneath her worn dress. She wasn’t embarrassed by her appearance though. The dirt lodged in her outfit was like a patch of honor, reminding her of every exciting moment of their journey. And each small tear told a story of the day before. She reached up and ran her hand through her long red hair, pushing the curls away from her face.
Jason lifted her mass of hair over his arm, holding her close as she walked beside him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Liz smiled at him. She wanted more than anything to let go of the horrid dreams that filled her nights and fall in love with the young man who promised her a life that she longed for.
“We’re here,” Charles groaned. “Yay.”
Liz went into shock as she stared up at the glorious monstrosity of a house. Set back from the road about a hundred feet, a marble staircase rose up from the cobblestone walkway to a large oak door—the equal of which she’d never seen. Candles flickered behind the stained glass windows making the front of the house sparkle. The door was framed by dark red columns and draped around each one were hundreds of flowers. Roses, lilies and dark green ferns were everywhere.
An enormous candlelit chandelier hung above the front door, beaming its golden light into the street. Through the open door, the marble staircase continued inside the house, rising up to a mysterious second floor. Yards of purple and red silk hung from ceiling to carpet, and mammoth works of art covered the walls.
