An Embarrassment of Riches

by Margaret Pemberton

  His mouth once again sought hers and her hands slid up into his hair, her lips parting willingly, her tongue sliding deeply past his.

  He could wait no longer. In a fever of need he pushed himself into her tight, moist, softness. There was a momentary barrier to his way and he could feel her tense and cry out in pain, and then he was thrusting deep inside her and her cries changed in tone and he was riding to the crescendo of his life, spending himself in an agony of relief.

  For a long time afterwards they lay side by side, their breathing gradually returning to normal, their thoughts in tumbled chaos.

  Alexander stared at the flickering shadows on the ceiling. When he had married her, he had anticipated consummating the marriage as an act of necessity and then never touching her again. He had known for some time that there was very little chance of such a plan of action being followed, and now he knew it for a certainty. He couldn’t remember when he had last enjoyed such a feeling of well-being.

  He turned to look at her, lying on one elbow. Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes two lustrous fans against her still-flushed cheeks. She had been a virgin and, despite all she had told him of being brought up with the granddaughter of an English lord, the discovery had stunned him.

  He had assumed her education and her knowledge of correct social behaviour to be surface gloss and nothing more. Although she was obviously able to pass as a lady, it had never occurred to him that she was a lady. She, after all, had agreed to marry him for no other reason than for financial gain. It had been the behaviour of a two-dime trollop and despite her appearance to the contrary and the explanation she proffered for her behaviour, that was how he had continued to think of her. Yet two-dime trollops were most definitely not virginal.

  It was all very intriguing. He had initially assumed that once the newspapers knew of his marriage and emblazoned the news of it on every front page, her use to him would be over. Now he was beginning to have second thoughts. As long as they were together, his father’s humiliation would continue. That in itself was reason enough for keeping her with him. Another reason was the loneliness he knew he would now feel without her. He had come to Tarna intending to stay until he had regained full strength in his still-weakened leg. When he had done so he was going to enlist; the war was still dragging bloodily on and he wanted a part of it before it came to a close. Yet life at Tarna, alone, would have drawbacks. There was no entertainment near by of the kind he was sorely in need of; no bored and willing married ladies; no pretty professionals.

  He watched the soft rise and fall of her breasts and his sex began to stiffen again. There was absolutely no reason in the world why they should part just yet. He smiled to himself, highly satisfied by the outcome of his deliberations, and reached out for her once again.

  Maura slowly opened her eyes and smiled at him in deep contentment. The unreasoning, primeval instinct that had prompted her into accepting his offer of marriage had been proved right. Love at first sight did exist. And would last life-long.

  ‘Alexander,’ she whispered, uttering his name in intimate warmth for the first time. Her arms slid around him. ‘Oh, Alexander … Alexander!’

  When they were not in bed they were on horseback. For hour after hour they would ride along the bank of the Hudson. He told her of his friendship with Charlie and with Charlie’s Uncle Henry; of the raffish race-meetings that were held on Long Island and Harlem Lane and of how they would attend them together when they eventually returned to New York; of how decent Powerscourt had been to him during the long months when he had been his enforced guest.

  She told him of Ballacharmish. Of the lush, undulating parkland that surrounded it; of the rose-garden with its heavily scented blossoms from Provence and Persia; of the views of Lough Suir and the gorse-clad slopes of Mount Lùgnaquillia and Mount Keadeen. She also told him of Isabel, and of how they were close as if they were sisters, and of Kieron.

  ‘Kieron was a village boy?’

  ‘Yes, though the word village is the wrong word to describe Killaree. It’s just a straggle of mud-walled thatched-roofed cabins surrounded by a handful of potato-patches and bog.’

  Alexander could easily imagine it. He had seen a dozen such villages on his journey from Powerscourt’s estate to the docks at Queenstown.

  ‘And did Clanmar’s eccentricity extend to taking Kieron into his home, as he took you?’

  They were making their way sedately on horseback through sun-dappled woods of oak and ash and she laughed and leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck. ‘Not quite. It was Mr Fitzgerald, Lord Clanmar’s land-agent, who first brought Kieron to Lord Clanmar’s attention. Mr Fitzgerald had taken him out of the hedge-school in order that Kieron could help with jobs around the estate. When he realized how fiercely intelligent and able Kieron was he gave him more and more responsibility and Lord Clanmar began to take an increasing interest in him.’

  Her pride, when she spoke of Kieron, was obvious. He looked across at her curiously. ‘And Kieron is related to you by marriage? He’s an uncle? A cousin?’

  ‘Nothing so direct. His father was my mother’s second cousin. What that makes Kieron and myself I’m not quite sure.’ She flashed him a happy, dazzling smile. ‘We’re kin though, and that matters in Ireland.’

  He gave a non-committal grunt. From what Powerscourt had told him, kinship in Ireland was just another word for medieval tribalism.

  ‘And where is the intelligent and able Mr Sullivan now?’

  His light flick of sarcasm was lost on Maura.

  ‘He’s in Waterford,’ she said sunnily, ‘acting as land-agent for Lord Bicester.’

  Alexander’s interest was temporarily caught. Bicester’s estate was within riding distance of Powerscourt’s.

  ‘I’m expecting him to write to me,’ she continued, ducking to avoid the low-hanging branch of a tree. ‘I’ve written to both him and Isabel telling them of our marriage.’ Her voice was thick with barely restrained laughter. ‘How I would love to be a fly on the wall when they read of it! Isabel will be incoherent, as for Kieron …’ She paused, wondering how Kieron would react to the news. ‘Kieron will throw his cap in the air for joy.’

  Her voice was a little less convinced than it had been when she had been speaking of Isabel, but Alexander was unaware of her flash of uncertainty. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Kieron Sullivan would throw his cap in the air when he learned of their marriage. He wondered how long it would take for the begging letters to arrive. His well-shaped mouth tightened. Kinship or no kinship, he would see to it that Maura didn’t respond to them. He’d be damned to hell before he became an almshouse for idle Irish.

  The first letter to arrive at Tarna from across the Atlantic was from

  Isabel.

  My dearest Maura, I do not believe it! I keep pinching myself and re-reading and re-reading your letter and still I cannot believe it! What an incredible, what an amazing thing to have happened! How on earth did you dare to do it? What in the world would Granpapa have said? What will Kieron say? Oh, write back soon and tell me EVERYTHING. Is he handsome? He must be handsome or else he would not have swept you off your feet in such a manner. Is Tarna as big as Ballacharmish? You say that the Karolyis family is wealthy. How wealthy? As wealthy as Granpapa was? As wealthy as Lord Palmerston? As wealthy as the vulgar Mr Vanderbilt Granpapa once told us about? Write again SOON.

  London is unbelievably dreary. I am not allowed out without a suitable chaperone and it seems to be beyond the new Lord Clanmar’s capabilities to find me one! Oh, how I miss Granpapa and Ballacharmish! Oh, how I miss you! The moment I am free from Clanmar’s tedious guardianship I shall SPEED to America and then you will be able to show me New York and Tarna and I shall be able to meet your wonderful Alexander! Fondest love and thinking of you constantly, Isabel

  Days later Kieron’s letter arrived. He had begun affectionately,

  lapsing into Irish.

  Hello there, élainn, What a girl you are and no mistake. Two minu
tes out of my sight and marrying the first boyo you set eyes on. I hope to God he realizes his luck. And I hope to God he treats you like a queen for, if he doesn’t, he’ll have me to reckon with, and I’m not jesting. Matters this side of the water are hellish grim. Bicester is no Clanmar. He’s evicting tenants right and left in his desire to improve his land and I want no part of it. I’m going to chance my luck in America. The next time you hear from me I will be in New York, God and the immigration department willing.

  Kieron in New York! Maura felt as though her heart would burst. Until now she had tried not to think too much about New York. Although Alexander had been adamant that he would never have any contact with his father again, it had been obvious from the way he had talked that he anticipated spending some part of each year there and she had dreaded exchanging her blissful lifestyle at Tarna for a claustrophobic existence in a Fifth Avenue mansion. Now the prospect held no fear for her. Kieron would be near by. As well as an attentive husband she would have a friend. She felt as if her cup was full and running over, and to make her happiness complete it appeared that the terrible Civil War was about to come to an end.

  Within days of their arriving at Tarna news had swept the country of an overwhelming Union victory. The battle had been fought just west of the small market town of Gettysburg and had decisively put paid to the Confederate invasion of the North. News of other victories had come thick and fast. In the South, Vicksburg had surrendered to Union forces after a bitter siege that had lasted from mid-May and further down the Mississippi the Port Hudson garrison had also laid down its arms. With the news that the entire Mississippi had been cleared of rebels church bells had rung out euphorically all over the North.

  ‘The war is going to be over by Christmas without me even having had a sniff of it!’ Alexander exploded disgustedly to Charlie.

  They were sprawling on a gently sloping lawn. Where the lawn ended the paddocks began, thick with grazing mares and foals. It was Charlie’s first visit to Tarna since Alexander’s return and for three days he and Alexander had done nothing but talk about old times and laugh uproariously at jokes that Maura had failed to understand.

  She said now, from the comfort of a wicker garden-chair, ‘Did you intend to enlist?’

  Her surprise was genuine. During the glorious weeks she and Alexander had spent together he had never once mentioned the possibility.

  ‘Hell, yes.’ He pushed a tumbled fall of hair away from his brow. ‘I was simply waiting for my leg to mend fully and then I was going to enlist in the cavalry.’

  Charlie looked across at Maura and both of them collapsed into helpless giggles – Alexander no longer had even the faintest vestige of a limp.

  ‘I was, damn the pair of you,’ he said, aggrieved by their disbelief. ‘I fought like hell with my father over the issue before I left for Europe. Now there’s conscription I’m certainly going to go.’

  Charlie rolled on to his back, chortling. ‘Don’t believe him, Maura. Anyone can escape the draft by paying three hundred dollars.’

  ‘But I don’t want to,’ Alexander said implacably. ‘I want a part of it before it’s all over.’

  Maura looked across at him, the smile fading from her eyes. It was understandable that he wanted to take part in the war savaging his country. They had talked about the war often and she knew that he felt passionately about it. Why then hadn’t she realized that it was his intention to enlist? The answer filled her with shame. She hadn’t realized because subconsciously she had assumed that his wealth protected him from such unpleasantness.

  Charlie pushed himself back into a sitting position. ‘If you intended enlisting, why didn’t you enlist weeks ago?’ he demanded mischievously, already knowing the answer.

  Alexander knew what Charlie was thinking, and Charlie was right. ‘You know damned well why,’ he said, his eyes gleaming with answering amusement, bewildering Maura who couldn’t possibly see how Charlie could know.

  Charlie chuckled. If he’d been lucky enough to be holed up at Tarna with only Maura for company, he wouldn’t have been in a hurry to leave either. He wondered how long Alexander’s idyll would last. The marriage had already achieved all he had intended it to. Victor Karolyis was being cold-shouldered wherever he went, New York high society having unanimously decided that a father-in-law to an Irish emigrant was a man they could well do without at their dinner tables.

  He had told Alexander that feeling was running high and that when he eventually decided that his act of revenge had run its course, and when he paid Maura off, he was going to have a devil of a job reinstating himself in society. Alexander had merely shrugged and the subject had not been pursued. Charlie didn’t blame him for being indifferent. If he were taking Maura to bed every night, he wouldn’t care about the opinion of New York’s haut ton either.

  He looked across at her and was startled by the anguish he surprised in her eyes. He frowned, wondering what on earth had caused her change of mood and then with a shock, realization came. It was because Alexander had spoken of enlisting. He felt a wave of pity for her. The end was going to have to come sometime and the sooner she adjusted herself to the idea, the easier it would be for her. He wondered what agreement Alexander had made with her about the eventual, necessary divorce.

  His thoughts were interrupted as a footman approached from the direction of the house. Alexander rose to his feet, walking languidly to meet him. As he did so he passed close to where Maura was seated. Charlie saw him stretch his hand out, saw Maura take it and press it close against her cheek. He saw Alexander look down and smile.

  Charlie gawped. He had known that Alexander was highly enjoying his escapade with Maura, but it had never occurred to him that their relationship was anything other than a passing act of recklessness. Now, for the first time, he began to realize that he had been wrong. Alexander was as in love with Maura as Maura was in love with him. He had been a fool not to have seen it within seconds of his arrival. In all the years he had known Alexander he had never known him to be so relaxed, so carefree. Not once had he exhibited a sign of his old, brooding restlessness.

  Hard on the heels of his stunned amazement came overwhelming relief. If Alexander was truly in love with her, then it meant that Maura wouldn’t vanish suddenly from the scene. When Alexander finally denied the marriage, as he would have to do if he were ever to regain his position in society, then Maura would still remain as his mistress and he, Charlie, would still be able to see her and remain friends with her.

  Alexander had been speaking to the footman, now he turned, saying with a slight frown, ‘Pa’s attorney has travelled out from New York to have a word with me. I’d better see what he wants.’

  Charlie was aware of a feeling of gratitude towards Alexander’s visitor. The longer Alexander was engaged in conversation at the house, the longer he would have alone with Maura.

  ‘When is it your friend arrives in New York?’ he asked her, wishing he had the nerve to move a little closer to her chair.

  Maura smiled affectionately across at him. In the short time that she had known him she had come to like him a great deal.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, wishing that she did. ‘Kieron didn’t say when he was sailing, and even when he arrives here he may be delayed at Immigration.’

  ‘Immigration?’ Charlie asked, startled.

  ‘He’s Irish and he’s coming here for good. From what Alexander told me when we were aboard the Scotia Immigration formalities can take quite some time.’

  Charlie didn’t doubt it. Despite the fact that Maura herself was Irish, it hadn’t occurred to him that her visiting friend would also be Irish. Alexander had told him about Lord Clanmar rearing and educating her and somehow he had thought the friend a relative of Clanmar’s. At the very least he had thought he would be respectable.

  ‘Kieron is a land-agent,’ Maura was saying in amusement, well aware of the turn Charlie’s thoughts had taken. ‘He was the very best land-agent in the whole of County Wicklow.’


  Charlie’s blond eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. ‘A land-agent?’ he managed at last in a strangled voice. ‘You’re not intending to invite him as a guest to Tarna, are you, Maura?’

  ‘To be sure and I am,’ she said, teasingly lapsing into a brogue that could be cut with a knife.

  Charlie shook his head in genuine perturbation. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Maura. Alexander wouldn’t …’

  ‘You’re wrong, Charlie.’ She had abandoned the accent and her voice was full of loving conviction. ‘Alexander won’t mind. He isn’t the snob you seem to think him.’

  If he wasn’t, it was news to Charlie. He was just about to say so when Maura changed the subject. ‘How soon do you think it will be before the war ends, Charlie?’ she asked, her anxiety obvious. ‘Is it going to end before Alexander has time to enlist and to train?’

  She had her back to the house and beyond her Charlie could see Alexander beginning to make his way back to them.

  ‘God knows,’ he said truthfully. ‘Mobile and Charleston need to be taken yet. Both are centres of Confederate blockade-running and it’s my guess that is where General Grant is going to turn his attentions now.’

  Alexander was making swift progress and Charlie said hurriedly and in genuine concern, ‘Where will you go if Alexander does enlist?’

  Maura stared at him, bewildered. ‘Go? I don’t know what you mean, Charlie. Why should I go anywhere? Are you asking if I will go with Alexander to wherever he is posted? Do wives in America follow the Army around in order to remain near their husbands? If they do, then of course I will do so. If not, then I will remain here at Tarna. Until he returns.’

  Now it was Charlie’s turn to stare.

  ‘But you won’t be able to stay on here after … after …’

  He had been about to say after her marriage to Alexander had been annulled but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t know about the inevitable annulment. He could tell she didn’t know by the incomprehension in her eyes. And perhaps there wasn’t going to be one. Perhaps his assumptions had been wrong. Perhaps Alexander really was so in love that he was going to remain married to her come what may.