by Cat Connor
“Sure and you should,” I said, “Sure and you should.”
“Me as well!” said Ana, seizing my arm in both hands and hopping up and down. “I want to be an auntie as well. May I be an auntie to your babes?”
“They’ve not even been birthed yet,” I said, laughing and drawing the both of them as close to me as I could. “And yes, you'll be aunties to my children, the three of you. You’ve no choice in the matter! But tonight, you'll conduct yourselves as I've instructed you, and you’ll not be attending the dinner. Now go and make yourselves presentable!”
Smoothing down their nightdresses, they fled me with kisses, winks and chatter (addressed to one another) and set about combing each other's hair. They'd not be attending dinner, but neither would they be cast aside entirely. I’d see to that myself.
Caoimhe, on the other hand, would be taking part in the celebration tonight. She wore a cerulean gown, and her dark hair long. It hung in ringlets down her back, glistening in the fire light.
“You look very pretty tonight, Caoimhe,” I said.
She flushed slightly. I smiled as I lit upon the reason she was watching from the window.
“Who is it you hope to see?”
“No one, Meaghan.” She averted her eyes from mine, her blush deepened.
“Look how no one makes you blush!” I teased quietly. “You may as well tell, I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Nathaniel Collins,” she whispered with reverence, as if saying his name would miraculously cause him to appear in front of her.
“Nathaniel,” I repeated quietly with much less reverence. Of course she was smitten by Nathaniel, he was self-centered, arrogant, good-looking and -- above all else -- the heir to a title and land. English land. I suspected Mamai had a thing or two to do with Caoimhe’s infatuation.
In saying that, he suited her well. I knew Caoimhe would never marry for love, she wasn’t like me, or Ciara or Ana.
She was not passionate about life. She was obedient.
The younger girls giggled. Ana piped up, “We don’t like Nathaniel, he’s got a mean voice, and he’s old.”
Caoimhe spun on her. “You don’t have to like him. It’s enough that I do. I’ll thank you to keep your opinion to yourself.”
“Does Nathaniel return this affection?” I asked, warning Ana with a glance to be quiet.
“He does.”
I thought for a minute, she was not yet seventeen. He was nine or ten years older than she.
“And Da?”
She stiffened. I knew Da would not approve.
“Caoimhe, Da?”
A touch of defiance crept into her voice, “Mamai said she will handle Da. I am to follow my heart.”
I shook my head sadly. Follow her heart? She scarce knew it. How, then, could she even hope to follow it?
“Is he not a little old for you?” I asked. “Him being twenty-six and you but seventeen....”
Haughty fell far short of describing the look she shot me.
“No. I do not think he’s old for me. I do not intend to be an old maid like you.”
I smiled.
“I’m eighteen, Caoimhe. Hardly old yet.” My thoughts centered on William. She may well be right, that is what I may become. If that was indeed to be my fate, so be it. “If that should be the case, at least it will be my choice.”
She glared and huffed. “Nathaniel is my choice.”
I shrugged. “I’d sooner be an old maid than to marry for lands and title.”
Caoimhe’s expression changed again, it hardened. Her face took on particularly nasty cast, and she hissed, “You think you know everything. You don’t. He loves me.”
“I don’t know everything Caoimhe, nor have ever I pretended I did. If he loves you so much, why are you too afraid to tell Da?”
She spluttered but didn’t answer.
Mamai opened my door. “Girls, to bed with you. Now. Meaghan, you and Caoimhe will accompany me downstairs in a few moments.”
Caoimhe glowered at me then quickly turned to Mamai. “Meaghan has given the girls permission to greet guests,” she said with unbecoming self-importance.
It was the first time Ciara had heard her tattle.
Ciara’s eyes widened as if shocked.
Ana nudged her and whispered, “We told you.”
I pinched her arm lightly warning her to silence.
“Is this true Meaghan?” Mamai asked, her voice softer than silk.
“Yes.”
Mamai smiled gently. “Then greet they shall. I trust you have instructed them in expected behavior?”
“Yes, Mamai.”
“Girls?”
“Yes, Mamai.” They answered in unison. “We will be good. You will be proud.”
Mamai kissed them both atop their heads. “That is all I can ask for.”
Caoimhe fumed. Her face pulled into an unattractive sour expression.
“Be careful the wind doesn’t change,” I whispered in her ear as she passed me on her way to the door. “Would it be bad if Da heard of your plans?”
Her eyes widened and mouth gaped. I took hold of her arm as if to walk with her while I whispered, “Would it, Caoimhe?”
She didn’t reply. She flustered and postured but made no words.
Mamai spoke, “Girls, wait for me.”
We waited.
Almost half an hour later, the girls were safely tucked up in bed and dreaming.
I spent some time reacquainting myself with our guests, all the while my eyes searched for William.
Da touched my arm. “You look radiant, my sweet.”
I smiled and replied sweetly, “And you look dashing, Da.”
Da chuckled. “With words as smooth as silk you would charm a snake.”
“Then I should’ve been born Patrick.”
Da grinned. “Your cheek, girl, will keep the suitors from calling.” He turned me slightly. “Over my shoulder, that young man has been watching you intently for the last half hour.”
I looked. Nathaniel Collins. I looked away and spoke to Da, “He’s not for me, Da.”
He’s not fit for swine let alone female company.
He linked my arm in his. “Have you spoken with Father William?”
My heart pounded, I felt color rise in my cheeks. I struggled to compose myself, lest Da, realize my dilemma.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not keep my nerves from my voice, “No. I haven’t seen him.” I wanted to ask, is he here? But kept the question to myself. I searched the room. People stood about in small groups, talking. None bore the copper hair I longed to see.
For an instant, I thought I saw him pass by the doorway. I could scarce breathe.
I made an excuse to Da. “I shall freshen a little before supper.”
He kissed my hand. “Don’t be long.”
I walked sedately to the hall doors, smiling, nodding, and passing greetings as I went.
Once safely out of eyesight I darted for the side door and out into the yard. The cool night air instantly soothed my burning skin. I moved away from the house and out of the pools of light cast by the lanterns. I couldn’t risk the stable; the horses would give me away. I walked on the grass, keeping clear of the stoned path, until I was deep in the shadows at the back of the house. It was quiet, I heard no music, and no voices floated this far back.
Peace.
I touched my cheeks. They no longer felt hot.
Ahead of me was the summerhouse. I carefully made my way around the raised flowerbeds, the moon providing ample light.
Once safely inside the trellised walls I breathed a sigh of relief. Moonbeams played upon the roses that grew in out and all over the wooden structure.
The white light cast diamonds across the floor and up the interspersed solid panels.
I breathed in the rose scented air. Calmness filled me.
I sat on the bench seat in the deepest corner.
How long would it be before my absence was noticed? I thought of how Nathan
iel Collins watched me. Surely, his time would be better spent admiring my sister, if indeed, he did return her affections. He made me nauseous. My thoughts turned to William. I leaned back against the wall. Set to chide myself for my foolishness, I considered my now rampant feelings and the possible ramifications. Each thought was counteracted by William. No matter how hot the fire, William was worth it.
Did I really think that? What did I have to base such an assumption?
One embarrassing meeting followed by the most romantic and gallant of rescues. I felt color rise in my cheeks yet again and fanned my face with my hand. Could I determine a man’s character within such confines?
I suppressed my urge to scoff at my own silliness. Of course, I could.
I was my father’s daughter.
As if to prove it to myself I was right, I recalled a fresh example. I knew instantly Nathaniel Collins was a cad and not worth my spit let alone my time. If it weren’t for the lands and the title, I’m sure my sister would see nothing in him either. If I recognize the bad, then surely I should recognize the good with equal clarity.
A noise startled me. I silenced my thoughts, satisfied that I had made a good choice, despite it being unattainable.
Stones crunched.
Footsteps.
Someone neared my sanctuary.
My breath caught in my throat as I peered into the night. My heart pounded. Discovery could happen at any moment. The moons rays lit a copper glow on the approaching form.
Copper.
William.
I watched with bated breath praying he wouldn’t enter. As I watched, he paced the grass, up and down the length of the summerhouse. Muttering under his breath. Repeatedly he whispered the same thing. I strained to make it out. Leaning back into the deep shadows to avoid detection.
Finally, as he passed close by for the fifth time I heard, “Meaghan.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop myself calling out. I felt ill. My stomach churned. He said my name. He said my name repeatedly. He paced up and down several more times coming to a stop with is back to the summerhouse. His copper hair shining in the moonlight. I imagined his grey green eyes sparkling as he spoke. Then I heard it, that small voice inside my head, “Carpe diem.”
Silence fell as all became clear. Quietly I slipped from my hiding place. Two breathless steps on the grass had me one pace behind William on his left. He stood, arms by his sides, looking up at the stars. My next step put me at his side, my hand slid into his. His fingers tightened on mine without him moving. Time stalled as William turned to me. He frowned, then smiled, then frowned. His fingers loosened their grip but as my hand fell, he caught it. A smile settled.
“William,” I could barely speak. There was so much I wanted to say. Fear constricted my throat.
We stood facing toward the house. I saw a pool of light flood from one of the side doors. William’s arm circled my waist. He pulled me into the shadows provided by my sanctuary. He held his finger to my lips. “Shush,” he whispered in my ear.
I turned in to him. Without care for the ramifications, I kissed him. For a brief moment, we were one.
August 15th 1714
Dearest William,
I pray this note finds you rested and well.
It is with a saddened heart that I impart this news. My sister, Caoimhe, witnessed our meeting by the summerhouse. Her plans include blackmail. She threatens to go to the Monsignor and my father with her malicious and spiteful tongue. I do not doubt her.
My concern is for you. I have no fear for myself. My father will never permit mischief to come to me, regardless of the situation. Know that I am safe. You must act accordingly, and mind your head. I could no more bear harm coming to you than I could a life without you. Nothing will knock my heart from its chosen path.
I will endeavor to warn you in a timely fashion before Caoimhe speaks to the Monsignor. I do not know how long I can stall her, or indeed, what she hopes to achieve.
Please, William, take care.
My heart is yours,
Meaghan.
I stood staring across the veiled woods and patchwork pasture. Rolling hills led to mist shrouded mountains. Greens and blues echoed hollow hopes of lost dreams buried beneath a low ceiling of cloud.
A shape materialized, cloaked in black, frosted with hazy silver edges. As the mystery stepped from the vapor, sound evaporated with every footfall. Black boots on soft moss. Barely breathing, I wished for a face, and then stopped, curiosity dampened by the possible reality. Silvery water droplets clung to the cloth, shimmering with each step. Draped in softly swaying fabric, the body beneath was indistinguishable. Yet I knew. I knew. My heart lifted.
Intense green eyes peered from folds of darkness created by the hooded cloak.
A light breeze caused a shiver to run up my spine. The same breeze lifted the front edge of the cloak revealing a white lace cuff.
Closer and closer. Deliberate steps. I took a breath. The air held rainstorm electricity. The world crisp and fresh. Light misty rain fell upon my face. My eyes closed and every sense increased in power and acuity. I felt the footfalls on the earth. The imminent approach held no fear.
Sentences blurred as they danced across my eyelids, scenes re-visited. My skin tingled. He was close.
A gentle voice spoke, “Mo Mhuirnin.” My beloved. And again, the voice warm caressing and safe, “Mo Mhuirnin.”
My eyes opened. His smile lit a fire in my soul. The cloak fell back from his shoulders as his hands cupped my face. Tears welled at the warmth of his touch on my cold skin.
The realization of my reality, the truth I hadn’t dared hope for, stood in front of me.
My voice faltered, “I thought …”
He pressed a finger to my lips. His eyes darted sideways and body stiffened. His left arm circled my waist pulling me quickly under his cloak. He met my eyes with his, warning me to be silent. We watched bobbing lights filtered by trees in the woodlands below. His voice whispered in my ear, “It’s not safe.”
“Go,” I whispered, pushing him away.
The lights grew brighter. He stalled.
A surge of panic rose. “Go.”
His lips sought mine. “I’ll come for you.”
Rain drove in sheets. My eyes stung, I blinked to clear the rain and the tears, which mingled, warm and cold together and flowed down my cheeks.
And he was gone.
He disappeared into the forest, taking with him my heart and soul. In the wake of one kiss, I drowned in longing and pain. Uncertainty fueled a fire of fear. He, the hunted. His life not his own.
Wind whipped my wet skirts about my legs as I watched the lights for an instant longer. All I wanted was gone, I knew I too must leave and quickly. I turned away, when every bone in my being wanted to call out. To bring him back. To go with him. To hold him forever more. I turned away.
In my haste a branch snagged my over skirt. The silk ripped as my heart had just moments before.
Rain pelted down, freezing drops stinging my face. Mud splattered.
True darkness descended so quickly it confused my sense of direction. I closed my eyes hoping to hear my horse tethered safe in a nearby thicket. I heard his exhale and followed the subtle sound. Barely able to find my way through the gnarled branches and brambles that dragged on my clothes and skin. Caught fast, I pulled sideways and felt the fabric of my gown tear. The horse heard it too. He snorted. I ran my hand along his back up his neck and to his face, and then followed the reins to unwrap them from a branch. He nudged me, none to gently. I caught my arm on a bramble. Another rip. I gathered my bedraggled skirts and mounted the horse. The wet saddle slippery under damp silk.
My eyes saw nothing but dark. Thunder crashed above us. I felt nothing but cold rain as it washed away warm tears. One nudge from my knee was all he required, I trusted him to take us home.
Home. I would be missed. Berated for the condition of my clothing, for riding out with no cloak, and without leave of my parents.
Gideon found the stony rutted road. I looked back once. The lights still came. Too many questions would be asked and suspicions raised. I pulled back with my left hand, heading the giant steed across the open field toward what I knew to be a quicker less obvious way home. He knew it too. Muscles rippled as he effortlessly went from canter to gallop. It wasn’t the first time we’d taken this route in the dark. It wasn’t the first time I’d favored my father’s Hunter over my own Cob. We were safe in the woods at the far edge of the field, by the time the soldiers reached the road. Rain obliterated all hoof prints. They wouldn’t know we left. Had they known we were there to begin with?
Once surrounded by trees, Gideon slowed to a canter.
He wound his way around haunted shapes, branches heavy with wet leaves jumped out at me.
Before long, I saw a soft glow from the kitchen windows at the back of the house. As we neared, the light faded then disappeared, blocked by the stables. Before we reached the cobbled yard, I reined the horse in and slid from the saddle. His hooves clattered less without me riding.
On opening the stable door, I met my father, waiting. Grim bordered on relief as he laid eyes on me. Anger reared, as he took in my appearance. There was no time for his sermon.
“Da, soldiers are coming.”
He took the reins from my hand and thrust them toward the stable boy with orders, “Scrub him down and feed him. Quickly boy.”
The boy didn’t speak. He clicked his tongue softly. Gideon followed him.
Father turned to me, his eyes black as coal. He spoke with restraint, “How long?”
“Twenty minutes behind me.”
He grabbed my arm. “Inside,” he growled.
Father led me in the kitchen door and stood staring at me. My long hair dripped puddles onto the slate floor, my white gown stained with mud and torn. He pointed to the rip in my sleeve and bloodied scratches on my arm. He shook his head slowly. “I will hear you in due course.” He spun on his heels and glowered at Maddie, the housekeeper, “Draw her bath,” he ordered then stormed from the room.
Maddie shook her head at my gown, “Who do you think will be mending that, girl?”
