The Rebel

by May McGoldrick

  Laughing, she pounded her fist lightly on his chest. “You are not planning to take advantage of a poor artist now, are you?”

  “Of course I am.” He pulled her knees until she was upright and straddling him. Lifting her bottom, he lowered her again, driving deep inside of her. “Indeed, I am planning to make love to you many times, in many ways, until you beg me to stop. And then I shall set a condition for stopping…temporarily…and you shall be forced to agree.”

  “What…what is the condition?” she asked vaguely, rotating her hips slowly on top of him.

  “That you marry me, Jane.”

  ***

  The dawn had barely broken in the eastern sky when Jane cast a last wistful eye over her work area and started down the steps. She had sent Nicholas away about an hour ago, after convincing him that she would definitely make an appearance downstairs in a couple of hours.

  It had taken longer than she’d expected to put her attic workplace back in order, she thought, fighting back a smile.

  Marry me, Jane. Marry me, Jane.

  Her smile disappeared. Like some liturgical chant, Nicholas’s words kept repeating over and over in her head. She had avoided answering him, but she could not prevent the warming power of it over her heart and her mind. Even to allow herself to dream of spending the rest of her life with him was far beyond anything she’d ever allowed herself to hope.

  She loved him. She knew that. And indeed, she had found the most passionate and fulfilling moments of her life in his arms. This, she had thought, would be the extent of it. It was all she could have hoped for. A moment and a memory.

  But to marry him…

  Jane still had a smile on her face when she opened the door of her bedchamber and stepped into the half-darkness of the room.

  “Late night for you. Or should I say ‘early morning.’”

  Startled, Jane turned around and found Clara sitting on her bed. The young woman’s back was against the headboard, her face hidden in the shadows. Her slippered feet were stretched out on the undisturbed bedclothes.

  “Early would be correct,” Jane answered brightly. She had an impulse to run over and hug her sister, but fought it. This foolish giddiness was a sensation so new, but she didn’t want to frighten anyone. “Good morning, Clara! Why are you up so early?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she laid out underclothes and a dress. The water in the basin was cold, but she didn’t care. She dipped a washcloth in it, and started to undress.

  “I have been up all night.”

  “Are you feeling unwell?” Jane asked over her shoulder, thankful for the darkness of the room for it occurred to her that her fair skin might show the marks of Nicholas’s attentions.

  “You might say that.”

  “Then why are you here? You should have stayed in bed. I shall go and ask Fey to bring up…”

  “Nothing that Fey could bring up would make me feel better.” Clara’s feet swung over the bed and made contact with the floor.

  Jane heard the touch of sadness and temper in Clara’s voice, and she paused in her washing and wrapped herself in a linen wrap.

  “What is wrong?” she asked softly, moving toward the younger woman.

  “You are what is wrong.”

  Jane came to an abrupt stop. “I…?”

  “Yes…you and your thoughtlessness.” Clara stood up. “You and your lack of consideration for anyone else in this family.”

  Jane bristled at the charge. “What is Sir Thomas is accusing me of now?”

  “This is not about Father.” Clara moved out of the shadows. The tear stains and swollen eyelids were a shock to Jane. “And this is not about Mother. This is about me, Jane—your only sister—the one in this family that you have always claimed you cared for.”

  Jane opened her mouth to ask more questions, but immediately shut it as a sickening feeling gripped her middle.

  “What do you have against me?” Fresh tears rolled down Clara’s cheeks as she came within a step. “Why is it that you…are so set against seeing me happy?”

  “I…I do not…”

  “It is jealousy, is it not?” Clara attacked before Jane had a chance to find her words. “You have managed to ruin your own life. Now you cannot accept the fact that I might have a chance…a chance to get away from the disgrace you brought upon our family. You are jealous of me ever being happy.”

  “That is not true.”

  “You are lying,” the younger woman snapped. “Why else would you intentionally keep him away from me? Sir Nicholas came to Ireland for me! He wanted me! But you could not stop yourself from hurting me. You had to take the happiness that should have been mine.”

  “You were the one who pushed him away.” Jane was able to find her voice as the arguments roiled inside her. “You…you were the one who forced me to come with you…and then pushed him at me.”

  “So it was right for you took advantage of my shyness? You could not let him be…or give me time to…to find myself. To become accustomed to him. It was right for you to take him away to Ballyclough yesterday…and the day before that. Do not deny any of it, Jane. I am no fool. I know he was with you that day, as well.”

  The thought ripping through Jane’s mind at that instant was that Clara didn’t know about last night. She had no way of knowing the two of them had been making love all night only two floors above where they now stood.

  “What do you hope to accomplish by any of this, Jane?” The younger sister seethed. “Do you believe you are good enough to become his wife? Are you so selfish that you will not hesitate to bring shame to another family’s honor? And what about your dear Shanavests? How will you manage to keep him while you are riding about the countryside until dawn…like this… with groups of ruffians and marauders and traitors?”

  Tears sprang to Jane’s eyes. She sat heavily on the edge of a chair. She tried to swallow the painful knot in her throat and speak.

  “But there was no marriage proposal. I…I was told that he…did not ask…for…”

  “He did not ask…yet!” Clara snapped. “But given the time, he would…he still will…if you let him be.”

  Jane turned her face away as tears slid down her cheeks. She felt Clara’s hand on her knee as the younger woman crouched beside her.

  “I have never asked anything of you, Jane, but I ask you this. Please do not ruin this chance for me.” Her voice was no more than a soft whisper. “If you ever loved me as a sister…if you care even a little for me…then please give me a chance to win his affection.” Clara clutched Jane’s hand. “I need this chance. I need him to take me away from this place…from this godforsaken land. I promise to make him happy, Jane. I will be as good for him as he is for me.”

  Jane turned around and looked into her sister’s face through a sheen of tears. “I cannot tell him whom to marry…or whom to love. That is not the kind of man he is.”

  “Then go away, Jane. Leave Woodfield House and stay with one of the dozens of friends you have around here. Let me convince him.” Clara squeezed Jane’s hand hard. “Please.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The doors of the study were closed and locked. On direct orders from Sir Thomas, the arrival of their visitor was not announced to the mistress of the house or to anyone else. This meeting was highly private.

  The message delivered to Sir Robert Musgrave not long after dawn had explained Sir Thomas’s genuine interest and willingness to help in whatever way he could to arrest the leaders of the local rebel faction. In addition, the former magistrate had hinted at methods and even informants that he was willing to share in order to guarantee success.

  By mid-morning, Musgrave was at Woodfield House, and whatever differences of opinion the two men had harbored before meant nothing now. They were both keen on achieving the same results.

  Sir Thomas listened intently to the new developments in Buttevant. And he was careful not to show any signs of surprise when the magistrate informed him that Jane and Sir Nicholas were the
ones who had relocated the papist widow’s children. He was also told about the baronet coming back after the mother.

  “An act of charity, I have no doubt,” Sir Thomas explained with a dismissive wave. “But tell me…this woman…where is she now?”

  “My understanding is that she was taken to the village of Ballyclough.”

  “Ballyclough?” the older man growled. “How do you know that?”

  “It appears Doctor Forrest was sent for by Parson Adams to see after an ailing Irish boy. The doctor has indicated that the mother…this woman Rita…now does indeed reside in the parsonage.”

  “And you truly believe this woman can identify Egan?”

  “I do, sir,” the magistrate asserted. “The issue of who exactly gave the money to the woman is insignificant compared with the fact that the two must have met. Otherwise the Shanavests would not go to the trouble of removing the other woman…the blind widow…from the cottage.”

  “Very astute, sir. But you have been unsuccessful in gaining Rita’s cooperation before. What changes now?”

  “I plan to be more…persuasive. We shall arrange for her children to be brought in, as well, when we arrest her.” A grim smirk thinned the man’s lips. “I have heard she has a small daughter. If need be, we shall give the little chit over to one of our jailors and let the mother watch. The woman will be telling us more than what we need to know.”

  “I insist that you leave the children out of it,” Sir Thomas snapped, rising to his feet. Wrestling with his temper, he turned and walked to the window. “You err in arresting the mother while she is staying at the parsonage, as well. Henry Adams will not take kindly to having people dragged out from beneath his own roof, and we do not want our own people rising against us.”

  “As magistrate, sir, I have the right to…”

  “Keep peace!” the older man roared. “Your job is to maintain at least the appearance of peace and justice in the King’s name. You let that woman go once. You cannot take her out of the care of Reverend Adams without having a damned good reason.”

  “She is my strongest connection with Egan right now.”

  “That does not say much for your efforts, does it, Sir Robert?”

  Musgrave was red in the face when he bolted to his feet. “If your purpose in inviting me here today was to insult me, sir, then…”

  “Blast your thin skin, Sir Robert, and get hold of yourself.:

  “I say…!”

  “Focus, man! Put aside all this wasted effort that will surely come to naught.” Sir Thomas clasped his hands behind his back and walked toward Musgrave. To catch these foxes, we must make bigger plans. My suggestion is this…” He stopped, frowning at the man. “But perhaps you are not interested in succeeding.”

  “Of course I wish to succeed!” Musgrave sputtered.

  “Then this is our plan. Carry out a punitive raid on one of the larger villages. You have the authority to do so. But before the attack, make certain…in a discreet way…that word of the raid leaks out. Meanwhile have your men keep watch. Lay a trap. The Shanavests will show up.”

  “But there is no guarantee that any of their leaders will be there.”

  “There is no guarantee that you won’t be buggered in your sleep tonight by the man in the moon, either!” Sir Thomas glared disapprovingly at the magistrate. “I will tell you the secret to succeeding here. You must plan carefully and then execute those plans quickly. Today is Wednesday. Plan the raid for tomorrow night. The word should get out no sooner than tomorrow at noon and only after some of your own people have been placed in strategic places in and around the village. This will not give the Whiteboys much time to react. One of their leaders…if not more…will show up to assist with the villagers.”

  “As far as these people that you say I should place in the village.” Musgrave tugged on an ear. “I have no one who I could put there…without raising suspicions.”

  “That is why I wanted us to plan this together.” Sir Thomas smiled. “I can be of help.”

  ***

  The night air was heavy with the feel of an upcoming storm. The two men standing in the paddock were the only ones outside.

  “I was in the forge with the smith when she left. I didn’t even see the lass go.” The trainer leaned a wide shoulder against a post and made a great show of poking at the tobacco in his pipe.

  Nicholas was receiving the same answers from Paul that he’d heard from everyone else. He was being stonewalled everywhere he’d turned with his questions. Each person seemed to have been prepared. Each said the same thing. They didn’t know where Jane had gone.

  Nicholas wasn’t convinced, though, and the way they all spoke to him triggered a feeling of anxiety in him that he could not shake off.

  When he’d seen no sign of her by mid-morning, he’d stormed down to the stables and found Queen Mab gone. Deciding that she must be at Ballyclough, he had saddled his horse and raced across the Irish countryside after her. Though Parson Adams was not at home, the housekeeper had assured him that Miss Jane had not come visiting the parsonage that morning. But, of course, he was welcome to stay and speak with Reverend Adams when he returned. Nicholas had not bothered, and had rushed back to Woodfield House instead, thinking she might be back.

  In any other family or household, he would have had some success in questioning the parents as to their daughter’s whereabouts. But Lady Purefoy’s breezy response, ‘I long ago gave up keeping account of Jane’s coming and going,’ had been a dark reminder of how little she was cared for by this family. Sir Thomas appeared to have even less interest than his wife, and questioning Clara had only managed to sharpen his ongoing suspicion that something had gone terribly wrong. Rather than answering him, the young woman had simply extended her previous invitation of acting as his guide, if Jane was unavailable. When he had declined, she’d done her best to try to engage him in a conversation regarding horses and racing.

  He had struggled, but somehow managed not to be rude.

  And Paul was being equally unhelpful. “’Tis hardly amiss, sir, for herself to be off like this for a day or so.”

  Nicholas forced away the dark thoughts in his mind and watched the wreath of smoke around Paul’s head. He tried to remind himself that it was completely within reason that she may have received a message after he’d left her this morning. But the anxiety wouldn’t ease up…for he was certain she would have left him some word. “How long does her family wait before they grow curious about where she is?”

  The arching of the stable master’s bristled eyebrow gave Nicholas his answer.

  “How long before you become concerned?”

  Paul turned his attention to his pipe again, giving Nicholas his answer to that, as well. The man knew where Jane was, and he wasn’t concerned.

  “I’ve spent the better part of that lassie’s life worrying about her,” he said evasively.

  “At least tell me that she is in no danger,” Nicholas pressed doggedly.

  “I wisht that I could, sir. But the truth of the matter is, Sir Nicholas, ye might just resign yerself to what ye be feeling today. Miss Jane is not like any other lass. For a long while now, she’s answered to no man—nor woman, neither. She’s been given her own head for so long that I don’t think she even remembers the feel of the bit between her teeth or the lash about the flanks, either. She’s fierce in her independence, and that’s all there is to it. So if ye be set to care for her, ye might also set yerself that you’ll be having no peace of mind this side of the grave. ’Tis good for ye to be this facing now.”

  Paul’s gaze was thoughtful when it met Nicholas’s.

  “Now, sir…if ye be looking for something…someone safe, then ye should be looking up that hill, for it appears as Miss Clara’s giving up waiting on ye.”

  Nicholas glanced in the direction of the house, annoyed at the sight of Clara, candle in hand, making her way down the hill. As he turned back to Paul, he found the man already half way to the stable door, doffing his
cap to the young woman as he went.

  “I should have known that your love of horses would draw you here. My guess is you could probably spend endless hours with my father’s trainer. He is quite knowledgeable on the topic.” Clara smiled brightly as she reached him. “But after everything I have heard of your own involvement and interest, Sir Nicholas, you cannot possibly be lacking anything.”

  He found the false adoring tone repellent, but he kept his views to himself. “Were you looking for someone down here, Miss Clara? If it was Paul with whom you wished to speak, I can still call him before he gets away.”

  “No. I had no wish to speak to Paul.” She ran her free hand up and down her bare arm. “I should have brought a wrap. The night is far colder than I thought.”

  But then again, he thought grimly, a wrap would have defeated the purpose behind the fashionably revealing dresses Clara was beginning to wear. Be fair, he chided himself. All his frustration over Jane’s absence was getting the best of him. He knew he had to get away.

  “If you will excuse me, miss, I was just on my way back to the house.”

  He did not wait for a response from her before starting toward the paddock gate.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?” she asked a bit breathlessly, catching up to him. “We haven’t had much time alone together since you’ve arrived, and I have been missing…”

  “Do not do this, Clara,” Nicholas barked, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “I find this to be a very deceitful game…and entirely unworthy of you.”

  “But what do you mean?”

  “Do not pretend that there is something romantic between us—or that there ever could be.” Her eyes were large and innocent looking, and they glistened in the lamplight. But Nicholas felt no pity. “I have no doubt that your father has already passed on the gist of our conversation. And regardless of what your mother may be planning, I am not interested in you, Clara, and I cannot express my feelings more clearly than that.”