Call Home the Heart

by Shannon Farrell

  But Muireann had no doubts. This was a test of her character, of that she was sure. She had grown weary of her easy life at Fintry. Had hoped for adventures. Well, I've certainly got my wish, she thought wryly. Since she had taken her marriage vows on New Year's Day, her entire life had changed.

  Lochlainn was astonished as he watched her haggle for the best prices possible, giving the owner behind the counter, Mr. Murphy, a spurious story about how her sister had died before her marriage and no longer needed the brand-new clothes and jewels of her trousseau.

  The hardened pawnbroker had actually found himself moved by the young beauty's affecting tale of woe. Since all the items were of the highest quality, he offered her what under any other circumstances would have sounded to Lochlainn like a small fortune.

  But Muireann held out for a higher price. Suddenly Lochlainn's heart was in his mouth. He was convinced that she had overplayed her hand. That the old man would tell her she was asking too much, and to go elsewhere.

  But at last Mr. Murphy gave in, and began to pay the whole sum out in crisp bank notes and gold.

  "Do you have anything smaller?" she asked sweetly.

  The shop owner gave her smaller denominations, almost emptying his cash box in his haste to help the lovely young woman. Her purse fairly bulged as she left the shop. Far from being despondent, she felt a curious sense of freedom.

  "There, that wasn't so difficult," she said with a satisfied smile, glancing up at Lochlainn's forbidding expression. "Now I need Paddy to take these things to the coach depot, while we go see that livery stable you were telling me about."

  "What on earth for?"

  "To sell the carriage, of course!" Muireann replied in exasperation as she crossed the street and made a beeline for their conveyance.

  "But Muireann, how will you manage without one?" he shouted to her as she trotted ahead.

  She reached the other side of the street safely, and turned to face him. "By walking, like everyone else."

  "And the team?

  "We'll have to sell the horses as well. You know we have no choice. We can get on the coach to Virginia tonight if we hurry."

  Lochlainn stared at her in astonishment as she practically skipped up the stairs of the carriage and called out to Paddy to hurry.

  Once they arrived at the depot, Paddy took their bags and traveling rugs, and agreed to wait for them there. They quickly checked the coach times, and saw that one was supposed to be leaving at quarter past two despite the harsh weather.

  "Come on, Lochlainn, we'll need to hurry!" she urged as she climbed up onto the box and took the reins.

  Lochlainn gaped as she whipped the horses up into a trot, and with his instructions, expertly negotiated the narrow cobblestones streets of Dublin.

  "How on earth did you ever learn to drive a coach, Muireann?"

  "A sign of my wayward youth. I used to sneak off all the time, and I was friendly with the servants. That was an unpardonable offense in my sister's and mother's eyes. But I've always felt that servants and workers can never really look up to you if they don't see you prepared to get your hands dirty yourself. Besides, it's far more fun than embroidery or tatting," she added as she clicked to the horses.

  "I'm beginning to wonder just what sort of other hidden talents you possess, Muireann Graham Caldwell."

  "Well, I shan't tell you any more of them for now. It's always nice to be able to surprise people."

  "You certainly astonished me," Lochlainn said truthfully, trying to reconcile this Muireann, with her long plait of ebony hair bouncing down her back, her cheeks glowing with the cold, laughing and smiling, with the delicate-looking society dame he had first met only two short days before.

  She never failed to amaze him utterly. He had to admit his fascination for her increased with every passing moment. It was as if she had taken control of his every waking thought. She was completely mesmerizing, like no woman he had ever met. Certainly a far cry from his fiancée Tara.

  Lochlainn clung on to the carriage by bracing himself with one hand against the side of the box, and curling the other around Muireann's waist as they careened up Abbey Street, and at last reached their destination.

  Once at the stables, she told Mr. Bradley such a convincing story about breaking up her establishment to go to warmer climes for her health, that the owner of the livery stables bought the carriage and team for an excellent price.

  Muireann put the large wad of notes in her purse, and staggered out of the shop leaning heavily on Lochlainn's arm as though needing his support.

  Once outside in the street, however, she grabbed his hand tightly and broke into a trot.

  "We'd better hurry! The coach will be leaving soon, and this snow is freezing over."

  They walked, ran, and skated along the streets breathlessly as they hurried to the coach depot. At one point Muireann tumbled in the snow, having lost her footing.

  Lochlainn ran over to kneel down by her, his concern apparent on his handsome features.

  "I'm fine," she laughed up at him. "I love the snow!"

  He lifted her and held her close, feeling the warmth radiating from her soft body through the voluminous folds of her gown and cloak. She might just as well have been naked, he was so painfully conscious of her alluring form.

  She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Don't look so worried. I'm fine. Let's go."

  She tugged him along until at last they made it back to the depot. Once there, Muireann marched up to the counter, where Paddy gave them some welcome news. While he had been waiting for them, the man running the coach had announced that it would have to be canceled because the second man who usually helped to drive it had come down ill. Paddy had immediately offered his services.

  After confirming with Muireann and Lochlainn that he was definitely an experienced coach driver, the manager accepted his offer, and thus waived Paddy's fare, and gave Muireann and Lochlainn a discount on their two inside seats.

  Paddy, middle-aged but very grizzled, skipped up onto the box like a young goat, while Muireann went inside to pay for their places. Lochlainn began to protest at the expense and impropriety of allowing him to ride inside with her, since he was only her servant. She waved his argument away airily, and counted out the necessary coins.

  "I won't have you freezing to death on top of the coach. As for propriety, anyone who would object to you accompanying me would not be a person with whom I would choose to associate, or whose opinions I would value. You are a human being, not an animal. I wouldn't even want the horses outside in weather like this, if it were my choice!" she argued stoutly, daring him to protest again.

  Muireann climbed up into the already nearly full coach, and found herself sandwiched in between Lochlainn and a rather portly elderly woman. She smiled shyly at her new traveling companions and then took the rugs which Lochlainn handed up to her. Muireann asked him if Paddy had enough cloaks and blankets to keep him warm up on the box, and he replied in the affirmative.

  Lochlainn stowed their three small bags safely up top, and disappeared for a few moments. He only entered the carriage just as it was about to leave.

  "Here. You didn't have any dinner. It was the best I could do," Lochlainn said as he offered her a paper wrapper with some hot muffins in it.

  Muireann saw he was shivering after having been outside in the cold for so long. She tugged the carriage rug off her lap and tucked it around his legs as well, before looking up at him and offering him one of the muffins.

  He shook his head, but she whispered, "You haven't had anything either. From now we share everything, Lochlainn, even starvation if we have to. Is that clear?"

  Lochlainn signaled his agreement by taking one of the muffins and biting into it.

  "Did Paddy eat?"

  "Aye, while he was waiting for us."

  Muireann took a muffin then, and chewed thoughtfully as she gazed out of the window as the coach headed out of Dublin and into the great unknown.

  "Are you all right t
here? You must be crushed," Lochlainn observed worriedly in her ear.

  She smiled wanly. "At least I won't be jolted about too badly."

  "You could trade places with me, so you could look out the window."

  "No, really, I'm fine as I am, thanks."

  Feeling it was ridiculous to try to be stiff and ladylike in the coach, she relaxed against him, their legs touching under the rugs. One of her elbows came to rest lightly in his lap. Lochlainn's left arm linked with her right, their hands almost touching. They munched their light repast silently, each absorbed in their own reflections.

  Lochlainn was glad the other four people in the coach prevented them from talking about private matters. He needed some time to think. All of this had happened so suddenly. Since he had first broken the news to Muireann about her dire situation, he felt as though his feet hadn't touched the ground.

  He recollected with a vague sense of unease Father Brennan's warning about her trying to take on too much in an attempt to block out the grief she obviously felt. She had admitted she had married Augustine for love despite his faults, hadn't she? She had even known of his gambling habits. That alone proved to him the depth of her love for her dead husband, worthless though he had been in Lochlainn's eyes.

  Her reluctance to go back to her family was more puzzling. They certainly seemed to be nice people from what she had said, and judging from the expensive and truly breathtaking trousseau she had said her family had insisted upon. At the same time, she had taken only three of the plainest dresses out of the cases, and had sold her jewelry without so much as a murmur.

  She had even, Lochlainn noticed, made the ultimate sacrifice, removing her wedding ring in the shop and offering it to Mr. Murphy, who had eventually purchased it with obvious reluctance. He had no doubt see through the story of the fake sister after all. The story of Augustine's death had been the morning papers. Perhaps Mr. Murphy had guessed who she was? He only hoped he would be discreet about who had sold him all the finery.

  Lochlainn munched a second muffin slowly, savoring the rich buttery taste, while Muireann occasionally chatted with the older lady by her side, Mrs. Barnes, asking questions about all the town and villages they passed, and avoiding any personal matters she tried to pry into.

  Mrs. Butler and her husband sitting opposite were quite knowledgeable about the countryside they traveled through. They were only too pleased to give the young Scottish girl a little lecture on the glories of the countryside.

  "There are the Four Courts. They stand on the site of an old confiscated monastery. James the Second held his last ever parliament here in 1689, and they became the official law courts, replacing an older building erected in 1541.

  "That's Whitworth Bridge, built in 1818, and quite modern compared to some parts of the city. For example, St. Michan's over there dates from 1095, long before the Normans ever arrived here, though it was partly restored in 1685. Over there on Usher's Island is the Mendicity Institute."

  "It's a fine building," Muireann remarked, "though it does look like it's seen better days."

  "It was once the home of the Rawdons, but they lost it in 1808. There is the Bluecoat School, very prestigious, and the Royal Barracks."

  "What are they constructing over there?" she asked, pointed at a red brick building rising up from the south bank of the River Liffey.

  "That's going to be our railway station," Mr. Butler announced proudly.

  Lochlainn glanced over at it, trying desperately to stay awake.

  "There's Phoenix Park, set up by the Viceroy Lord Chesterfield in 1747. The wall is seven miles long, and that huge obelisk is the Wellington Testimonial, put up in 1841. There's even a zoo, full of lions and other exotic animals," Mrs. Butler said with a quiver of excitement.

  "Oh my, lions!" Muireann marveled.

  "Have you ever seen one?" Mr. Butler asked. "Magnificent beasts."

  Muireann nodded. "Yes, I have. As you say, they really are quite splendid."

  Lochlainn glanced at her in surprise, and made a mental note to himself to go to the zoo the next time he happened to be in Dublin.

  "Mr. Roche once lived in Australia, so I'm sure lions are nothing compared to all the wonderful things he saw there," Muireann said.

  The other elderly gentlemen, Mr. Stubbs, who made up the rest of the party, began to press him for specific details of koalas and kangaroos, which Lochlainn did his best to answer.

  "And there is Kilmainham Gaol, and the Royal Hospital," Mrs. Butler said, pointing, as the sky began to darken with clouds and a few swirling flakes began to fall.

  "Now we're passing the Royal Canal, and this is Blanchardstown," Lochlainn chipped in, trying to impress Muireann. "The castle is Norman, but was destroyed in a great siege during the Civil War by General Monk in 1642."

  "And this is the village of Dunboyne, where Colonel Blood was born. He nearly succeeded in stealing all the Crown Jewels of England for the Tower of London in 1671. And the next village will be Laracor, where Jonathan Swift was incumbent from 1699."

  "Oh really?" Muireann asked excitedly. "I love Swift's writings, don't you?"

  Lochlainn nodded, and noticed Mr. and Mrs. Butler giving them speculative looks.

  "Newlyweds, are you?" she asked sharply.

  "That's right," Muireann answered easily, squeezing Lochlainn's hand to silence him. The last thing they needed was any gossip about their circumstances.

  "There, Mr. Butler, you see, I told you!" Mrs. Butler exclaimed in delight. "They can't keep their eyes off each other."

  Muireann blushed to the roots of her hair.

  Lochlainn looked out the window in an effort to conceal his discomfiture.

  Fortunately Mr. and Mrs. Butler were pretty much oblivious to the feelings of others, and continued on with their travelogue through Trim and past the Hill of Tara, droning on and on, until at last Lochlainn, exhausted, rested his head on the top of Muireann's unconsciously and began to doze.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It seemed as though Lochlainn had only been asleep for a few minutes when he noticed the coach had halted. It was pitch dark outside the window, and Muireann was standing over him with all of their traveling rugs draped over one arm.

  "Where are we?"

  "At Virginia, sleepy head. Come on, it's very late. They're getting our room ready for us, and some supper."

  "Our room?"

  He had no time to press the matter further, for several porters came to help Muireann get their luggage down. She skipped out of the coach, and lifting her skirts high, entered the lobby of the inn, where she ran over to the huge blazing fire. Lochlainn was left alone to follow along behind.

  When he came inside, the servant boy said, "This way, please," and led them up to a pleasantly decorated, wood-paneled room with a huge oaken four-poster bed. Other servants began to parade up and down the stairs with cans of hot water. Another maid took Muireann's food order for their evening meal, which she requested should be served in their room.

  Only when the tub was full and the servants had disappeared did Lochlainn have the opportunity to ask with a disconcerted frown, "Our room? And a bath?"

  "Well, what do you want to do, spend money we really don't have on another chamber? And if the estate is as bad as you say it is, this might be the last decent bath and meal I'll get for a while. So I'm going to enjoy it," Muireann said a trifle impatiently as she stripped off her cloak and shawl, and then began to unbutton the top of her gown. "What did you want me to do, tell the manager that we weren't married, and cause a scandal?"

  "No, of course not, I just thought that-"

  "I've told you before, we're in this together. We share everything, unless of course you object with regard to the bath water. We did it all the time at Fintry to save the servants trouble. You can go first if you like. And as for false modesty, you've already seen me in my underclothes yesterday. I think I can trust you."

  Lochlainn, astonished at her forthrightness, shook his head. "Never mind, Muireann,
forget I said anything. You're right, of course. I'm sorry. But you should go first. Get into that bath now, before it gets cold, and I'll go downstairs."

  "Please, Lochlainn, I'm not that modest," she answered with a withering look. "There is a screen, you know. If you're still sleepy, go lie down on the bed. If not, then here's a copy of today's paper. Read me the items while I have a soak, and then it will be your turn. Unless of course you don't wish a bath."

  "I'd love one," Lochlainn said enthusiastically, looking forward to the prospect of his first full bath in over a week. Muireann had been absolutely right about the primitive conditions at Barnakilla. In the summer the lake was fine, but in the winter, hot baths were an unheard-of luxury for him except when his sister took the trouble to set up the tubs for washing day and boiled them a few extra cauldrons for a hasty, tepid dip.