“That makes sense,” I replied, somehow feeling ashamed that all this had happened to them, even though none of it had been my fault. Not directly.
Father Begley’s eyes were kind. “Don’t trouble yerself o’er much. The Lord still watches o’er His flock.” He gestured toward a trio of pews, waiting while we took our seats before he sat in front of us. He shifted his black cassock so that he could turn to drape his arm over the back of the pew to look at us.
I heard Bree settle into the pew behind us, quiet and solemn, as she’d been that morning. Matters were awkward between us, and as I still didn’t know what I wished to say to her, we both remained silent except for the usual communication between a lady and her maid. Anderley was off at the Yellow House or somewhere else, assigned to his normal task of attempting to blend in and listen for information that might be useful to us. Efforts that thus far had proved ineffectual.
“Now, what is it I can be doin’ for ye?” the priest asked. He was younger than I’d expected, closer to Gage’s age of thirty-three than the Scullys’ contemporary, with close-cropped hair of sandy brown and sharp hazel eyes, which softened with a gentle, almost bemused smile.
Gage glanced to me, allowing me to take the lead. “You are aware of the investigation we’re conducting into the deaths of Miss Lennox and Mother Mary Fidelis?”
He nodded. “Reverend Mother Mary Teresa wrote to me on yer arrival, and asked me to do all dat I could to help ye.”
“That was kind of her. We’ve been given reason to believe that you might possess information that could assist us. Mrs. Scully, you are familiar with her?”
“I am.”
“She said there were ‘going-ons’ in town that she feared Miss Lennox had gotten herself involved in, and dare I say, Mother Mary Fidelis, too.” His expression tightened with concern. “She would not tell us more, but she suggested we speak to you. That you would be able to explain.”
“I see.” He turned away, staring up toward the altar, and the gold cross that held pride of place. “The reverend mother has been tellin’ me she has great faith in ye,” he said, sounding almost as if he were ruminating to himself. “She believes the Lord has sent ye to us.”
I felt a tingle along my spine at this pronouncement, wondering at the reverend mother’s conviction.
Father Begley’s gaze swung back to us, studying our faces. Whatever he saw there made him nod. “And so I will put my faith in ye as well.” He tapped his fingers against the wood of the pew. “As Mrs. Scully put it, there are ‘going-ons’ in town.”
“The tithe protest,” Gage guessed.
The priest’s smile was humorless. “It appears the reverend mother’s trust in ye is well founded. It is the tithe protest. Or the tithe war, if ye prefer. Depends on who ye are talkin’ to as to how they wish to phrase it. A large number o’ the farmers here in Rathfarnham have refused to pay their tithes. A number o’ dem have herded their cattle together an’ attributed dem to me, so as to avoid the tithes since, as a clergyman, I don’t pay.”
“Like in County Kilkenny?” I asked.
His expression turned grave. “Our bishop encouraged us to use creative methods o’ circumventin’ the law. But after hearin’ o’ the violence that broke out o’er that attempted collection and the one in County Wexford, I’ve been fearful the same will happen here.” He shifted in his seat, his voice becoming more strident and animated. “’Tis supposed to be a peaceful protest. No resistin’ seizure. But the men have become riled. Some o’ ’em seemed to be stirrin’ for a fight. Not all,” he assured us. “But some.” He scowled. “Enough.”
I curled my fingers around the smooth edge of the pew beneath me, inhaling the scents of wood and beeswax. Had Miss Lennox been right in what she told Mr. LaTouche? Were some of the protestors planning open rebellion? Is that why she was killed? To keep her silent? And Mother Fidelis as well?
“And Miss Lennox and Mother Mary Fidelis?” Gage prodded. “How do they fit into all of this?”
The priest leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “I did not learn o’ dis until a few weeks ago, or else I’d have put a stop to it, to be sure. Apparently Mother Mary Fidelis has been helpin’ the men for some time. They keep the cattle at the castle. There used to be a dairy there, and there’s equipment left o’er from dat time.” He sat tall again, meeting our gazes. “There’s also several tunnels leadin’ to it and plenty o’ places to hide, should they be needed.” His eyes narrowed. “But ye already know this, don’t ye?”
I glanced at Gage. “We guessed.”
He nodded. “A couple o’ months ago Miss Lennox followed Mother Fidelis through the tunnel and uncovered their secret. She begged to be allowed to assist, and seein’ no alternative, they let her.”
No alternative then. But had they found one since? Something more drastic.
“How exactly did they help?” Gage shook his head in vexation. “Forgive me, but it seems an odd undertaking for a nun.”
The priest lifted his hands. “I don’t know, sure I don’t. But he might,” he added, nodding toward the man who had just strolled through the doors and stood blinking as his eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dim exterior.
Gage rose to his feet, prepared to give chase if Constable Casey fled. However, any thought he might have had of running seemed to be obliterated in the face of his fury. He stomped up the aisle, curling his hands into fists while his face flushed an alarming shade of red next to the green of his uniform jacket. “Of all the rotten, underhanded, traitorous . . .” He broke off with almost a growl. “You’re talking to them!”
The priest held up his hands, trying to calm him, but Bree talked over his soothing words. “Calm yerself, Mick. They’d already figured it oot. Didna I tell ye they would? Father Begley and I were just confirmin’ some details.” She eyed him disapprovingly. “Noo, stop bein’ a fool, and tell ’em what ye ken.”
“You great eejit!” he swung on her to exclaim. “They’re not to be trusted. Didn’t Granny teach ye better dan dat?”
Bree arched her neck, staring down her nose at him. “Granny taught me to measure a person by the worth o’ their actions. Same as she taught you. And I’d say I ken my employers a sight better ’an you do. They’re fair and reasonable.” Her eyes narrowed. “And willin’ to overlook the fact that ye wished to poison ’em. So I suggest ye put yer prejudice aside, and start talkin’.”
Rather than chagrin, his eyes flared with spite. “Do they know yer a Roman Catholic, just like us? Or would ye be hidin’ that like the cross tucked inside the neck o’ yer dress.”
Bree pressed a hand to her collar, presumably where underneath her cross lay, as some of her anger drained away in the face of her brother’s nastiness. Indignation flared inside me. Had we been different people—the people he thought us to be—his careless words could have cost Bree her position, and her livelihood if she’d been dismissed without a reference. For a brother, even a half one, to say something so thoughtless infuriated me.
“We know,” I bit out, pinning him with my glare. “And we don’t care.”
The corners of his whiskey brown eyes, so like Bree’s, tightened in mistrust, glancing between Bree and Gage and me. Seeing our ire and Bree’s silent astonishment, his anger began to thaw toward befuddlement. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Gage replied steadily for us.
Casey turned away, scrubbing at his pale hair in thought. For a moment, he seemed just as likely to stride out the door as tell us anything. What made up his mind in those seconds, I don’t know, except that he gave an exasperated grunt and tossed his hat into the pew beside his sister. “All right. I’ll talk. Seems I’ve no choice. What is it yer wantin’ to know?”
I glanced at Bree as Gage quickly relayed everything Father Begley had just confirmed for us. The light shining through the thick leaded glass windows created a fiery halo around
her strawberry blond hair. Her eyes were fastened on the floor while her fingers continued to fiddle with the necklace beneath her dress. I wondered how I’d never noticed it before. She had it on under the high collar of the dress she currently wore, but not all of her bodices were so concealing. Seeing as I wore my mother’s amethyst pendant always, I normally noted other people’s jewelry, no matter how simple, wondering if it held any significance. But in Bree’s case, I’d never marked it. Of course, at a young age ladies were taught not to notice their maid’s appearance, to almost look through them as the maid flitted about, dressing and undressing them. Perhaps, without realizing it, I did the same, even if the rest of my interactions with her were far from conventional.
I turned back to Casey as Gage reiterated the last question he’d posed to Father Begley. “What I’m curious about next is how Miss Lennox and Mother Fidelis helped you? Did they care for the cattle?”
Casey scowled at the floor and reluctantly began to speak. “When needed. But their main task was to be helpin’ us from the outside. Gatherin’ information we could never be gettin’ from the mother superior on our own. Word of what the bishop—a great friend o’ hers—and O’Connell be sayin’, and what the protesters in other parts o’ the country be doin’. They always knew more than the newspapers reported.” He sank down in the pew beside Bree. “When Miss Lennox came, she told us she had an uncle highly placed in the government. That she could be gettin’ information from him. Didn’t tell us it was Wellington himself, though,” he muttered under his breath.
Gage and I shared a look, and I could tell he wondered just as I did whether Wellington had been aware of his cousin’s duplicity. If, in fact, any of this was true.
“How did she propose to contact him?” he asked.
“She wrote to him.”
I frowned. Then why hadn’t we found any of this correspondence? Had she hidden it somewhere we hadn’t thought to look? Somewhere elsewhere in the abbey. Or maybe she’d burned the letters, afraid they would fall into the wrong hands. If we considered that possibility, then we also had to contemplate its counter. That someone had found the letters and taken them, either before or after Miss Lennox’s death. Their discovery, in fact, could be partially the motive for her murder.
There was also one other option, and Gage had evidently already thought of it.
“Could she have lied about this contact of hers?”
Casey’s mouth twisted, not liking that suggestion one bit. “’Tis possible. But she did bring us useful information she got from somewhere. ’Bout the government’s plans to enforce tithe collections an’ so forth.”
Father Begley shifted abruptly, making the pew beneath him creak. It was obvious he was distressed by this new information. “What of all this talk of yer plannin’ armed rebellion? Ye swore there was no truth in it.”
“There isn’t,” Casey snapped. “Dat just be the Orangies tryin’ to stir up trouble.”
“And all the other men?” Gage prodded doubtfully. “They intend to remain peaceable if and when the government tries to collect their tithes?”
Casey’s hands flexed in his lap and his eyes dropped to bore into the back of the pew behind Gage. “I’ll not be claimin’ we don’t have a few hotheads who like to talk, to be sure.”
If he was saying some of these men were even more short-tempered than he was, then it was no wonder people were concerned this protest could erupt into violence.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, one corner of his mouth quirked upward wryly. “We’re all a bit enraged o’er dis matter. We may’ve got our emancipation, but at the expense of many o’ us losin’ our votin’ rights when Parliament raised the county freehold franchise from those with forty shillings to ten pounds’ worth o’ property.” He scoffed. “An’ now wit all these tithes goin’ to the Church o’ Ireland.” For a moment I thought he was going to spit on the floor, but he seemed to catch himself in time, remembering where he was. He inhaled deeply. “It’s a lot to swallow, to be sure. But I took an oath to the British Crown when I accepted dis post as constable, and I’ll not be dishonorin’ it.”
“In spite of your assurances, I would still like to see this place where you are keeping the cattle. To confirm for myself that you’re telling the truth and not stockpiling weapons or worse.” Gage’s eyes hardened in the face of Casey’s defiant glare. “I know they’re at Rathfarnham Castle. I could go on my own. Take a few of your fellows from the constabulary. But I’m allowing you the opportunity to show me around instead.”
I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Bree, who had folded her hands in her lap as if to keep from reaching out and smacking her stubborn brother. Her lips were nearly white from being pressed together in an effort to remain quiet.
Casey sat back with begrudging respect, folding his arms in front of him. “So be it. I’ll take ye. But in exchange I want yer promise you’ll not be interferin’ tomorrow at the fair when we’ll be bringin’ the cattle to market.”
“So long as I do not find any evidence that violence is planned, I’m agreed to that,” Gage replied readily enough. “However, you do realize Chief Constable Corcoran is almost certainly already aware of your ruse? In fact, I’m certain he’s counting on your voice being the one of reason in this matter.” Gage’s tone fairly dripped with skepticism, which made a smile flicker across Casey’s features.
“Likely. But dat’s my matter, not yers. I don’t be intendin’ to violate any laws, or lettin’ anyone else do so.”
“Just like two nights ago when you and your fellow Ribbonmen trespassed and set fire to an outbuilding at the Priory.”
Father Begley sucked in a harsh breath, clearly hearing this bit of news for the first time.
Casey at least had the grace to look abashed. “The trespassin’ was just to scare ye away. I didn’t know any o’ the men meant to take it further.”
“Well, forgive me, if that means I don’t have as much confidence in your fellow protesters’ adherence to the law and willingness to avoid violence as you do.” Gage turned away, lowering the knee he’d propped up on the seat of the pew as if to rise.
“What of Miss Lennox and Mother Mary Fidelis?” I pointed out before he could do so, not wanting them to lose sight of the most important matter at hand. “Do you think any of the other protesters could have harmed them?”
Casey shook his head. “They were one o’ us.”
“But what if they weren’t? What if someone found out that one or both of them was betraying you? Are you confident they wouldn’t have harmed them then?”
The grim expression that stole over his face was all the answer I needed, but still he shook his head insistently. “No. I’ll not be believin’ they betrayed us, and neither would the others.”
I met Gage’s eyes, seeing the same distrust of his certainty.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Casey walked next door to the Yellow House to fetch Anderley on his behalf, Gage pulled me aside to ask me to remain at the abbey with Bree rather than join them. I could hear the concern in his voice as he explained how uncertain he was of what exactly they would find. There was every possibility they would be ambushed by a dozen men. Casey seemed reliable, but we couldn’t be certain the other men would not be rash enough to shoot first and ask questions later.
None of this was in the least reassuring, and I was tempted to demand he forget the bargain he’d made with Casey and go speak to Chief Constable Corcoran now rather than risk it. But I knew he would never go back on his word, especially when such a raid could jeopardize so many more lives than Casey’s. So I agreed, knowing Gage didn’t need my pair of eyes, nor the distraction of worrying about my safety. In any case, much as I wished to see the castle, this wasn’t a tourist excursion, and Homer’s warnings about the derelict state it had fallen into made me suspect I would only be distressed by the sight.
Gage did, however, want us to
show him the location of the tunnel which led from the abbey. Casey confessed he had not taken that passage in some years, and could not recall its exact placement, so Bree and I agreed to lead the way. It would have been quicker for Casey to guide them through the tunnel that began at the Yellow House, but since our main objective was to solve the murders of Miss Lennox and Mother Fidelis, Gage felt it was important to see which route they had traveled.
Leaving the phaeton and horses at the abbey, Bree and I led them through the door by the gardeners’ cottages and along the abbey wall, past the pond, and up the hill to the wild cherry tree growing against the old stone wall. Now that we knew what we were looking for, it was easy to find the set of steps leading downward, shielded behind the blackthorn and spindle. Bree and I stood back to watch as they disappeared from sight, a lantern from the carriage guiding their way down into the dark tunnel. I felt a moment’s uneasiness when all evidence of them vanished, but I turned my back determinedly on the prospect and began striding toward the abbey.
The ground was still soft from a downpour of rain in the early morning hours—not long after the girl outside the window at the Priory had disappeared—so we made our way carefully. The workmen who had labored on the wall the day before could not do so while the ground was so saturated. So rather than return through the door by the gardeners’ cottages, we picked our way through the gap, attentive not to disturb anything. While I paused to wait for Bree, I glanced around me, examining the work that had been done.
It was then that I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, a swift flash of white against the brown and green of the orchard. Perhaps it had just been the startled flight of one of Miss Lennox’s birds, but I didn’t think so. Holding a hand up to forestall anything Bree might have said, I lifted the hem of my soft emerald green skirts and crept forward on the balls of my feet in the direction I had seen the white vanish, peering through the trees. Bree was at my heels, blindly following my lead as she did so often.
As Death Draws Near Page 24
