"We'll need plenty of hot water first of all, so you get the fires going under the boiler, while I fill the cauldron," Muireann instructed.
"But it's such hard work for you!"
"Well, get some other people in here to help, then. We can't clean anything without hot water. In any case, it's about time we let the people here know that I'm now in charge, and that I'm serious about getting this place on its feet again."
Lochlainn assented to her plan, and went off to find several of his old friends and their wives, while Muireann went into the scullery. Rolling up the sleeves of her black and burgundy gown, she began to pump the water.
At first it came out an appalling brown color, and smelt foul, but soon it began to run quite clear. She noted there was still a brownish tinge to it. Lochlainn explained when he got back a short time later that the color was due to the large amount of turf in the area.
She began toting buckets back and forth to the boiler. "I've seen turf before back home, but I don't think we use it nearly as much as you do here."
Lochlainn stacked the wood in the burner underneath. "That's probably because you have coal readily available. But here it is very expensive, so we exploit the woods and the bog to keep warm."
"I see."
Soon three couples arrived at the back door and Lochlainn introduced them.
"This is Patrick Martin and his wife Siobhan, who used to do carpentry and weaving before we fell on hard times. This is Mark McManus and Sharon, who used to grow potatoes and take in the washing. And this is Colm Maguire and Brona, who also farmed and looked after the livestock. They're some of the best workers we've ever had, born and bred on this estate, as were their mothers and fathers before them."
They all looked at the beautiful young girl quite warily.
Muireann gave them her warmest smile. After shaking each of them by the hand, she asked for their help with the water, fuel and cleaning.
"We'll need more wood soon enough, or turf if it's handier. We need to get lots of buckets of hot soapy water to scrub this place down and get rid of the nests and close up the mouse holes. Can you help me?"
They all nodded, and for a time all eight of them labored away in the kitchen until Ciara joined them and made a ninth.
As soon as the water was hot, the women filled the sinks with the grimy dishes and pans, and began to scrub them, while Muireann scoured all the tables and work surfaces, which were caked with grease and dirt. Lochlainn got the other ovens going, and Muireann asked him to send out some men to hunt for deer or pheasant.
"And we'll need some rabbit snares as well, if you haven't already got them out," she said with a wink, knowing full well that in such a badly run estate, poaching would be rife. "Tell them to get as much food as they can. We have a break in the weather at the moment, but who's to say that it won't turn cold again soon."
Lochlainn nodded his agreement, pleased at her foresight. He summoned the best marksmen on the estate. He went into the gun cabinet in the study, and issued them arms and ammunition.
He reported back to Muireann, "At least there are plenty of guns and cartridges. Let's just hope they hit everything they shoot at."
"We'll cook some of the meat, because I'm sure everyone here could use a decent meal. But we can also smoke some of it if you will get the smoke oven going and I can find some salt."
"That's an excellent idea. I hope they catch a mountain of food."
"But we will need some other women to do the preparation," Muireann reminded him.
Lochlainn grinned, suddenly feeling his spirits lift. "I'm sure there will be many willing to help for a decent bowl of stew in return."
She was successful in her search for the salt, and by midday the kitchen looked a bit more habitable. The work surfaces gleamed, and wonderful smells were issuing from the ovens and the cooking pot Ciara had put on the stove.
Ciara and the other women had picked through the several baskets of rather wizened vegetables and potatoes, and had thrown the best of them into a stew pot with some of the rabbits the men had brought back. The rest of the vegetables were scrubbed and throw into a vat of boiling water.
"They'll make good stock for soup or stew, and we can keep the pulp for a pig. We'll need to get more animals here, and soon," she said, wrinkling her nose at the rancid butter she found in the cool press. She stood looking at it silently for a moment and then declared, "There must be an ice house here somewhere."
"Aye, there is, though I must admit, I doubt any of us have gone on ice-cutting detail on the lough for a long time," Patrick said. He was a pleasant-looking dark-haired young man with sunken cheeks and piercing blue eyes.
"Well, perhaps it would be a good idea to get it going again. If we bought some cows we could make butter and sell it. The same with eggs. We can get some laying hens and do a milk, egg, butter, and bread round for the townspeople."
"All of that costs money, Muireann," Lochlainn reminded her.
"I know that, Lochlainn, and I know we have terrible debts. I'm just planning ahead. If the bank and our creditors see that we have a definite plan for getting Barnakilla up and running again, they might be willing to wait for their money just a little while longer. A few cows and pigs and hens won't set us back that far, now will they, compared to the huge sum which must be owing," Muireann argued logically.
Lochlainn had to admit he couldn't find fault with her reasoning. But he was unwilling to discuss money matters with her in front of the others. He and Muireann had to restore confidence in Barnakilla. There was no way he could do that if they seemed to be at odds with one another.
He could see she was quite distressed by what she had discovered, though she had never once complained. Again he felt an acute sense of having betrayed her. He watched her closely for any sign of weakness as she moved about, scrubbing, organizing, and making an inventory, until at last she made a face at him, and then smiled, which reassured him somewhat.
After they had eaten their dinner, a bowl of stew apiece, Muireann went upstairs with Ciara to see if she could find a suitable bedchamber for herself.
At the back of the house was a room with flowered blue and white wallpaper, now yellowed with age. The chamber had an eastern exposure, and was small enough to be kept warm easily. In it were a large tester bed, a small dressing table, and a chair. So far as she could see, no tiny visitors had made any nests anywhere, so she decided to claim it for her own.
"Can you clean this one out for me? The mattress looks sound, if a bit damp, so we can put it outside in the sunshine for a while. In the meantime I can use some straw from the barn. I would scrub it out myself, Ciara, but Lochlainn and I need to go into town to see the accountant."
"That's fine," Ciara said stiffly. "I'll take care of it."
"Well, if you have something else to do, it can wait," Muireann said, trying desperately to warm to Lochlainn's sister, who seemed as though she went out of her way to be unpleasant to people.
"No, Mrs. Caldwell, I'll do whatever you say. You are, after all, the owner now."
Muireann sighed. "Ciara, I know all of this must be upsetting for you. I would feel the same way if the home I had come to love over the years fell to wrack and ruin as this has. But I'm trying to help, and am quite humbly asking for your assistance in this endeavor. I know I'm young and inexperienced. It was a pure quirk of fate that I've ended up here as heir to a bankrupt estate.
"I'm not asking you to be loyal to me because I'm your mistress and owner of the estate. I'm asking for your help and friendship because we will all need to work hard to restore Barnakilla to its former glories. I'm prepared to work as hard as any of you. Nay, harder. But my first priority has to be to see whom we're indebted to. There's no point in our slaving away to renovate the mansion and the estate if we're going to have to sell anyway because the debts are too high."
At length Ciara replied with obvious reluctance, "All right, Mrs. Caldwell, you have my loyalty for as long as you need it, so long as you deserve it.
"
With that she bent to strip the bed of its dirty linens.
Muireann saw there was little point in forcing her friendship upon someone so completely unreceptive to any well-meaning overtures.
"Thank you, Ciara. I suppose that will have to do. And please, try to call me Muireann from now on," she requested stiffly as she left the room.
CHAPTER TEN
When Muireann had finished organizing the bedroom upstairs to her satisfaction, she began to head back to the kitchen. She found Lochlainn waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
"Come sit down inside the study for a moment, Muireann. You're tired and I think we need to talk," he said, taking her arm, and noting with a thrill that it was still bared to the elbow. He felt the silky soft flesh under his fingers, felt the pulse throbbing through her. The contact was both thrilling and terrifying.
Muireann leaned upon him wearily and accompanied him down the corridor. Once inside, he shut the door, and waited until she sat before doing so himself.
They reclined in their chairs in silence for a moment before Lochlainn asked quietly, "Well, what do you think of your new home?"
Muireann glanced around the room like a trapped animal. "God, this is all such a mess! How on earth could things have come to such a pass?"
"I honestly don't know, Muireann. Augustine must have run wild altogether once he inherited. I'm sorry. I should never have persuaded you to come. Not without knowing the full facts," Lochlainn apologized, though he knew he was being insincere.
He had needed her help, and knew deep down in his heart that he would have said and done anything to get her to come to Fermanagh to save Barnakilla. Or said and done anything to prevent her from getting on a boat back to Scotland and going out of his life forever.
Muireann gazed at the dingy wallpaper, the mountain of ledgers and correspondence on the desk, the chairs fit only for firewood. Then a thought struck her.
"Tell me again why you left Barnakilla?" Muireann asked suddenly, as she rose from the chair and began to flip through some of the ledgers, glancing over at him from time to time.
Lochlainn blushed and avoided her gaze as she waited for an answer.
"You're bound to find out sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now to get it out of the way. My fiancee Tara left me for another man. Plus, the old owner, Douglas Caldwell, was dying. I pretty much figured it was time to pull up stakes and go. I knew Augustine and I would never see eye to eye on how to run the estate. I suppose I fancied a change anyway.
"So I went out to Australia. I was there up until about eight months ago, when I got a letter from Ciara saying Augustine was asking for my help. I came back the shortest route I could, working my passage to save money.
"I'm not completely penniless. I made some good money out there working on a cattle station. But nor do I have the kind of money we are talking about to get this place back on its feet. Whatever I have is yours to do with as you like. I want to help in any way I can."
"So you dreamed of owning a place like this?"
He nodded. "As it was at its height, yes, of course. Who wouldn't? But let's not talk about me. Let's discuss the estate, please," he said uncomfortably.
"I'm sure you're wondering how things could have got so bad in such a short amount of time. It wouldn't have been so bad if the tenants had at least been paying their rent. But the potato crop failed in the autumn of 1841, a few months after I left, so people got into arrears, and Augustine allowed things to drift."
"And what are the possibilities of our recovering some of those losses?" Muireann asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer from what she had seen of the estate and its tenantry so far.
"I really don't think we could possibly ask these people for back rent. If we held them to it, they would starve, I'm sure of it."
Muireann patted his shoulder, and sat back down again close by him. "Don't be so defensive. I agree with you. Apart from you and your sister, most of the people I've seen only have what they stand up in, and the little potato plots they tend for themselves, which are hardly going to be so productive that they can sell their surplus for a profit. It's pretty obvious too that they have nothing worth selling.
"But think of this from my point of view. I don't know how I'm meant to make the estate a going concern if no money is coming in. Neither will I evict them, so don't look so worried. You and I both know that would be unconscionable." Muireann stared into the empty fireplace thoughtfully.
Lochlainn reached over and took her hand. "I'm sure with that sharp brain of yours and the reputation the Scottish have for being clever with money, you'll work something out."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I can't produce things out of thin air. I can't even make sense out of these accounts!" she admitted, her exasperation all too evident. "There are gaps everywhere! We shall have to visit the accountant and lawyer in town later and see if they can shed any light on the matter."
"Why don't you come outside for a breath of fresh air?" Lochlainn suggested, worried she might be overdoing things.
"The books aren't going to do themselves, you know!" she said sharply, and then apologized. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"I would probably do worse than snap if I were you. I feel like I've betrayed you. Convinced you to come here to this!" He indicated the chaotic pile of papers with a sweep of his hand.
"You didn't know. Not really. How could you? You've only been back a short time. Augustine was in Scotland with me anyway. You couldn't consult with him then, and he died shortly after we arrived in Dublin. So there was no chance for you to discuss any business matters," she said, squeezing his hand for a brief moment before she rose.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to write another letter home now so I can post it in town later. And I want to note down a few more ideas before I go to Enniskillen."
"Very well then, I'll leave you. Is there anything you wish done?"
"Start cleaning out all of these downstairs rooms. Get rid of the rubbish, and the nests. We may have to get a cat to catch all these mice."
"Or a dog," Lochlainn said thoughtfully.
"What day you say?"
"Nothing. I just had a splendid idea, that's all. But I can't tell you. It would spoil the surprise. When is your birthday?"
"My what?"
"Your birthday," Lochlainn repeated.
"At the end of April. Why?"
"Perfect." He grinned, and refused to say any more, hurrying out when she tried to press him for an explanation.
As soon as Lochlainn had left, Muireann penned a letter to her cousin Michael, one of the estate stewards at Fintry, asking for his help and advice, and telling him the basic facts about the appalling state of Barnakilla. She knew he could help her with the livestock problem without her father finding out, and would be full of good ideas for running the estate and turning a profit.
Then she wrote to Neil again, informing him of her letter to Michael, and asking the two of them to work as allies on her behalf.
Soon she turned her attention back to the books, and at last she knew what had been eluding her all along. She was grim-faced as she mounted the cart beside Lochlainn an hour later, and quite thoughtful as she asked Lochlainn about market days in Enniskillen.
"They're on Mondays and Thursdays."
"Are there any other big towns nearby?
"Sligo is roughly forty miles away, and Donegal Town is about the same to the northwest. There is also Cavan, which we drove through, and Clogher, about twenty miles away due east."
"What days of the week would they have their markets?"
"So far as I recall, Tuesdays and Saturdays for Sligo, Wednesdays and Fridays in Donegal, Mondays and Thursdays I think for Virginia. I am sure it's Thursdays for Clogher."
"And who is the resident magistrate in Enniskillen?"
Lochlainn looked at her in surprise. "It's Colonel Lowry, our neighbor on the northeastern side of the estate. Mr. Cole
is on the southeastern end, and Christopher Caldwell, Augustine's cousin, is on the southwestern side. The lough of course takes up the whole eastern edge of the estate, so no one to worry about there. We have unrestricted use of the waterways."
"Is there anyone to the northwest of our estate?"
"Aye, Mr. Malcolm Stephens, but we haven't had anything to do with his family since Augustine started a feud over the pastureland and timber up there ages ago, as well as access to the lough, which our lands prevent him from using," Lochlainn informed her as they neared the outskirts of Enniskillen.
She lifted her chin, a picture of determination. "Well, perhaps it's about time that feud ended?"
Lochlainn gaped. "But they've been the Caldwells' enemies for years!"
Call Home the Heart Page 11
