For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  ‘It’s just what I wanted, Aunty Molly.’ Erin held up the cheap ornament for Sam to see and was gratified when her husband thanked Molly in the same manner. She bent impulsively and kissed the grimy, withered cheek. ‘Er, ye haven’t met Sam, have ye?’ What an idiotic thing to say. ‘Sam, this is my Aunt Molly – Mrs Flaherty.’

  Sam nodded and smiled.

  Molly looked him up and down. ‘A bonny man ye’ve got yourself, Erin Feeney.’

  Erin looked away to hide her guilt.

  Hannah was on the point of collapse. As if Molly’s intrusion was not demeaning enough on its own, Erin had to address the woman as ‘Aunt’. She caught Dominic Teale’s gloating expression and hurriedly took herself off to the dining room to weep her shame. Dominic smiled vindictively; his humiliation at Hannah’s hands was about to be superceded by the woman’s own.

  Molly eyed the glasses which the guests were holding and ran her tongue over her lower lip – though from the aura of liquor fames that whistled through her teeth it had not been a dry journey to the Feeney house. Patrick signalled to a maid to bring another glass for his friend.

  ‘Well, ’tis pleased we are to see ye here, Molly. Are we not, Tommy?’ Thomasin’s pallid face belied his geniality. He went on hastily, ‘We were only just talkin’ about ye last night, sayin’ as how we’d have to have a separate wedding party for our old friends ’cause our house isn’t large enough to hold the lotta yese. But there y’are, ye’ll be able to say ye’ve been to both parties now, won’t ye? I’d not like ye to think we were going to leave ye out, ye know, but we’ve been that busy with the arrangements that between hoppin’ an’ troddin’ we quite forgot to mention to Father Kelly to pass the message on if he saw ye at Mass. Well, as I said ye would’ve been getting an invite to the other do we’re going to have but …’ it all sounded so awful.

  You’re talking too much, Pat, thought Thomasin wretchedly. The more you try to convince her the less plausible your explanation sounds. She tried to inject a little credibility into her own remark. ‘Erin will have to cut you some cake to take home with you, Molly. She helped make it herself. It’s delicious.’

  ‘Am I to leave already?’ asked Molly, sniffing at the sherry before knocking it back in one go. She waved away Thomasin’s denial. ‘Ah, sure ye can’t kid me, the pair o’ yese. Ye didn’t want me here I can tell. An’ who could blame ye? I’m not very pleasant company for a gathering such as this, am I? I would’ve liked to have gone to the church, though, just to see my godchild wed.’ She sighed as she inspected the fine array of clothing. ‘Ah, ’tis a long road ye’ve travelled from Brit Yard, Patrick Feeney. I recall the days when ye hadn’t a backside to your trousers nor a penny to your name – Tommy too. I’d never’ve recognised her in them fancy hangin’s. I’ll bet they never came from the pawnshop.’

  Amy, peeping through the crack in the partly-open door, was loving every minute of Thomasin’s mortification. She watched her employer grow more uncomfortable by the second as Molly waded through her memories.

  The pauper woman cheered. ‘Ah, but them were great days all the same. We’d have some right old shindigs, didn’t we just? Singin’ and dancin’, old Ghostie with his fiddle … Ah, but the best time,’ she elbowed one of Sam’s relations who was unlucky enough to find himself sitting on the chair next to hers, ‘was when Pat an’ my poor Jimmy – God be good to him – got into some sort o’ argumentation with old Raper. Ye never saw such a spectacle as that butcher dolin’ out the insults, callin’ us fleabags an’ suchlike. A right poltroon he was – still is. But Pat could sort him out, couldn’t ye, Pat? A fine scrapper is my lad here.’ She cackled. ‘An’ d’ye remember when Tommy pushed him into the pile o’ shi …’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t!’ jumped in Thomasin rapidly. ‘Erin, go ask Amy if that cake is going to be cut up by next Christmas. Molly, let me give you another glass of sherry.’

  ‘Maybes I’d better get moving an’ let you folk get on with your party,’ slurred Molly wistfully, and made great play of rising from her chair.

  ‘Ye’ll do no such thing,’ said Patrick to his wife’s horror. ‘Now you’re here, ye’ll stay until the party’s over.’

  However, the wedding reception was destined to be over sooner than anyone had anticipated. Some minutes after a shame-faced Erin had returned with a wedge of cake wrapped in a napkin and Amy had repositioned herself outside the door, a pink-cheeked Agatha stumbled tearfully into their midst supported by her irate brother.

  ‘This really is outrageous, Mr Feeney!’ protested Rupert, and when coaxed for an explanation enlarged: ‘My sister, as you can fully see, is extremely upset. Your elder son, under the pretext of showing her a secluded corner of the garden, has made the most improper advances to her.’

  Patrick’s temper flared instantly. ‘Where are my sons now?’ he demanded of Rupert who was mopping at his distressed sister’s face.

  ‘Richard, I trust, sir, is in the process of receiving a thrashing from his brother,’ said Rupert, whose words were soon validated when Patrick looked from the window and saw the struggling figures razing the flower border.

  His authoritative shout was followed by the appearance of both sons, one of whom held a bloody handkerchief to his nose, the other sullenly rubbing his knuckles.

  ‘How dare you?’ roared their father, striding up to them. ‘How dare ye ruin your sister’s wedding day with such juvenile behaviour?’

  ‘I was defending my friend’s honour,’ argued Sonny.

  ‘Silence! Whatever the reason you have both performed abominably in front of our guests. Ye’ll both apologise forthwith, especially to your sister.’

  ‘Pray, don’t concern yourself on our account, sir,’ said Rupert stiffly before Patrick’s order could be carried out. ‘My sister and I are leaving. Might one have one’s hat, please?’

  A maid was sent to fetch the hat and Agatha’s jacket as he continued, addressing himself to Sonny now, ‘I am a pretty tolerant sort of chap, Feeney, but I hope you will forgive me if I decline any future invitation you may have in mind to offer. I was quite ready to accept that your background was a little humbler than my own, but was not prepared for the company I would be expected to frequent,’ – here he looked at Molly – ‘or that my sister would suffer such indignities at the hands of your brother. My sympathies lie with you, Feeney, in having such a cross as this family to bear, but you will excuse me should I not choose to suffer it with you.’ With this he wished them a curt farewell and, supporting his still-weeping sister, left the house.

  ‘Funny friends ye’ve got yourself,’ piped up Molly, gulping another helping of sherry. Her voice cracked the stunned silence. No one dared look at his neighbour. Sonny pushed past his brother and returned to the garden, totally sickened by the experience. He hadn’t turned his back but one minute – one bloody minute! But that was sufficient for that lecher to get his hands on her, destroying another of his brother’s dreams. Oh, God! how could he face her? A bitter laugh then – he probably wouldn’t have to. There’d be no more invitations to her home. They wouldn’t want his sort in the house. But he would have to face Rupert. He didn’t know how he was going to cope with that. He cursed his brother: bastard, bastard, bastard!

  Patrick tried to restore conviviality by handing out more cigars, most of which were declined. Dickie dabbed at his bleeding nose and looked around for a quiet corner. Hannah, who had unfortunately wandered back in at the height of the furore, fixed glazed eyes to the door through which Rupert and Agatha had disappeared.

  ‘Goodness, look at the clock!’ cried Thomasin, abnormally shrill. ‘Erin, it’s high time you were changing, the carriage will be around any minute.’

  Erin remained where she was, looking into each uncomfortable face in turn. Her day had been ruined. Not just by her brothers, and her mother’s treatment of Molly, but by her own thoughtlessness. Sam broke into her reverie, saying quietly, ‘Come on, lass, I’ll carry your trunk down. Let’s get away from this
lot.’ They went upstairs.

  All of a sudden it hit Thomasin that Erin would not be coming back. After their honeymoon she and Sam would be going to live in a village some eight miles from York in the little cottage recently purchased with the money donated by Thomasin. So far away! Had there been any need for that? But then, Erin had wanted to follow her husband’s wishes, which were to live in the countryside he loved and in time raise some livestock. For the moment he was still employed at the butchery, however. But that didn’t bring Erin any closer. Thomasin’s eyes became misty and threatened to brim over. What a note for their daughter to be leaving home on.

  Patrick saw the tears but made no move to comfort her; he thought she was crying with self-pity. Well, damnwell serve her right. Thinking she was too good to rub shoulders with the likes of Molly. He should never have allowed her to persuade him. Sonny could take some of the blame too for bringing his fancy friends here. And the other one … well!

  When Sam and Erin rejoined the party the latter wore a deep-pink velvet gown and matching jacket trimmed with cream braid. Her eyes, also, were on the pink side.

  It was quite apparent she’d had a good cry upstairs, but the veil on her feathered hat served to hide her unhappiness somewhat.

  ‘Oh, what a picture!’ beamed Molly and tried to rise, but failed. ‘Oh, God – it looks like I’m here for the night.’

  Erin bent and kissed her. ‘There’s no need for you to come out with us, Aunt Molly.’

  ‘Ah well, I can as soon wish ye luck in here,’ agreed Molly. ‘Here’s good health to ye once more, Erin. To you an’ your Sam, may ye be blessed with a hundred children.’

  ‘Oh, Molly I’m so sorry,’ blurted Erin, but the woman shook her head and clicked her tongue.

  ‘No need, pet, no need. Off ye go now – an’ take care o’ my baby, young Sam!’

  ‘I will, Mrs Flaherty – Aunt Molly.’

  They left her there, silly with drink, while the other guests flowed after them to the front of the house. It was then that Father Kelly arrived, breathless from his rush from the bishop’s house.

  ‘Oh, God love us! I’m here just in time to wave the happy couple off. Ah, isn’t she the most beautiful bride y’ever saw?’ Reaching Erin he promptly kissed her then turned to Sam and engaged in a warm handshake. ‘You’re a lucky fella, Samuel. I wish ’twas meself that was taking her away.’

  ‘Shame on ye, Father.’ Erin managed a laugh for her old friend. ‘Trying to compromise a married woman.’

  Liam sighed and addressed himself to Patrick. ‘Ah, it doesn’t seem like five minutes since I was baptisin’ her.’

  Patrick mouthed wistful accord, then said, ‘There’s another o’ your lady friends in the house, Liam if ye’d care to go in.’

  ‘God, can I never shake these women off?’ bewailed the priest. ‘Following me about all over the place. I’d best go see to her then.’

  ‘There y’are deserting me already,’ chided Erin, then kissed him again. ‘Goodbye, Father. See ye when we get back. Goodbye everyone.’

  Thomasin and Patrick took it in turns to hug their daughter. Then Patrick, after a second’s hesitation, clasped Sam’s hand. ‘I’m sorry it went the way it did, Sam. What with one thing and another it wasn’t the smoothest of weddings, was it?’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Sam gave a smiling sigh at his bride. ‘Upsets or no, it accomplished what it was meant to.’

  ‘Ye’ll take good care of her now?’ Patrick couldn’t help feeling a little resentful that Sam was taking her away, however much he liked the man.

  ‘I will. She means everything to me, you know that.’

  Erin impulsively threw her arms round her father’s neck and clung on tightly. It felt so strange to be going.

  Then all stood back to wave as the carriage rolled away. The members of the wedding party who were not staying overnight also took their leave and climbed into their carriages and carts, leaving the Feeneys standing alone on the pavement as the remaining guests stepped back into the house.

  ‘I’ve never been so humiliated,’ breathed Thomasin tearfully, watching the honeymoon carriage disappear from sight. ‘It should’ve been one of the happiest days of my life, the marriage of our daughter. Instead, it was a disaster.’

  ‘I’ve not felt such humiliation either,’ responded Patrick coolly. ‘But not for the same reasons as yourself.’ He looked down at her, his eyes brooding. ‘The look on that poor woman’s face when she realised she’d not been invited – an’ her a friend o’ twenty-five years’ standing. I hate to say it, Tommy, but say it I will: I was ashamed of ye, and of myself for allowing ye to talk me into leaving poor Molly off the list. I don’t know how I’m ever going to reconcile with it.’

  ‘Are we going to throw that second party you promised her?’

  He looked down at her derisively, not crediting that with an answer.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pat. I couldn’t know it was going to turn out like this, that she’d get to hear of the wedding from Liam. Poor Molly … and damn that son of yours too!’ she added vehemently. ‘You can’t blame that episode on me. If you’d played your role when he was younger … It’s about time you started laying down the law. You must tell him if anything like that happens again he’ll be out. I don’t trust myself to speak to him at the moment.’

  Patrick led the way back into the house and sighed. ‘I think Sonny will have a few words to say to Dickie on that score.’

  But Patrick could not have been more wrong. Sonny had nothing whatsoever to say to Dickie for the remainder of that day, nor for any of the following day, either.

  * * *

  Sam’s parents, having shared the Feeney’s place of worship, and later their Sunday luncheon, left in the early afternoon. Thomasin and Patrick waved them off in their cart, then returned to the dining room where William snored discordantly. He was their only company. Sonny had not shown his face at lunch nor breakfast They knew he was in his room, but decided not to disturb him. He’d come down when he’d a mind. Dickie and Hannah had gone upstairs after lunch, the latter because she could not bear to feel Dominic Teale’s mockery every time she caught his eye. When she did come down her wrinkled forehead bespoke her concern.

  Thomasin finished checking on the state of her dinner service and closed the doors of the china cabinet ‘What’s to do, Mother?’

  Hannah took a deep breath before answering. ‘I hate to say this, dear – but someone in this house is a thief!’ Patrick looked up sharply from the book he had been reading as Thomasin called for elucidation.

  Hannah flopped down into one of the Regency-striped chairs. ‘It seems totally ironic. I bring my valuables with me for fear of them falling prey to burglars while my own house is unattended and promptly fall foul of them in my own daughter’s house.’ Patrick and Thomasin had laughed when she had arrived clutching her jewellery box the day before. They didn’t laugh now. ‘My cameo,’ said Hannah. ‘The one you gave me, Thomasin, it’s gone missing.’

  ‘Are you sure you brought it with you?’

  ‘Thomasin, I had it on yesterday! Before I went to bed I replaced it in my jewellery box and it’s no longer there. I only noticed a moment ago when I went to take another brooch out.’

  ‘But you’re sure you put it in the box?’ pressed her daughter. ‘Not on the dressing table – or maybe you left it down here?’

  ‘Thomasin, it was in the box!’

  ‘Well, maybe it’s fallen underneath the other things.’

  Hannah sighed heavily. ‘How could it be underneath when last night it was on top? Unless someone has been rifling the box. It has definitely been purloined.’

  After establishing that her mother could in no way be mistaken, Thomasin’s first reaction was to blame one of the temporary maids.

  ‘Well, if it was one o’ them ’tis too late, they’ve gone,’ said Patrick, then suppressed a smile as William made bodily noises in his sleep.

  Hannah poked her husband frenziedly. ‘William, wake up! We
have a crisis.’

  William moaned and rubbed his eyes, then squinted at their serious faces. ‘What’s all t’scrattlin’ about?’

  Hannah told him about the theft, then turned to Thomasin. ‘There’s only one thing for it, you’ll have to fetch the police.’

  ‘Now hold your rush,’ replied her daughter firmly. ‘Let’s get Amy in here first and ask her if she noticed anything suspicious about these girls. I don’t want to be bringing them into disrepute if they’re innocent.’ She rang the bell. ‘And we don’t want to be calling in the police unnecessarily. You know what the neighbours are like, Mother.’

  Some minutes passed before Amy slouched in, up to her elbows in flour. ‘I hope you’re not gonna ask for tea,’ she said impolitely. ‘I’m in the middle o’ bakin’.’

  Thomasin ignored the discourtesy. ‘I won’t keep you, Amy, I just want…’

  ‘Why, it’s her!’ screeched Hannah, leaping to her feet. ‘Look! She’s got the audacity to wear it.’ She hobbled up to the maid and pulled at the brooch which secured Amy’s collar.

  ‘Eh, what you up to?’ shouted Amy rudely, knocking her hand away with floury hands. ‘Get off!’

  ‘Where did you get that brooch?’ barked Thomasin.

  ‘It were a present,’ answered Amy, uneasy now. They were all staring at her. ‘Why, what business is it of anyone else?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what business it is,’ replied Hannah, before Thomasin had a chance to reprimand the girl for her cheek. ‘It’s my brooch.’

  ‘No! It’s mine. It were a present, I tell yer!’ Amy put a protective hand over the brooch.

  ‘Let me see!’ Thomasin held out her hand.

  The mistress’ authority overruled Amy’s disinclination to part with her property. Slowly she unpinned the brooch and handed it over. ‘All right, but I’m tellin’ the truth,’ she emphasised stubbornly.

  Thomasin looked from the brooch to her mother and then back at the maid. ‘Who gave this to you?’