The Absinthe Earl

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  His boisterous manner was compelling, and I couldn’t help laughing. But I countered, “You yourself are likely to marry a titled young lady, are you not? Will your family not expect you to?”

  He shook his head. “I’m a fourth brother and a bastard, though my parents eventually married, and my mother was Jamaican—born a slave, later a pirate. I’ll never be Lord Mayo, thank the Maker. I could marry a selkie and I doubt my father would notice.”

  There was no bitterness as he said this, and in fact his mood appeared completely unaffected. “You have quite an interesting history, Mr. O’Malley,” I observed. “Moreover, you’re a charming and handsome fellow. There will be no need for you to marry a selkie—unless, of course, you fall in love with one.”

  He gave me a conspiratorial smile. “I stand out from the crowd in a room like this, that’s certain. And I like a girl who does the same.” The waltz was drawing to a close, and he halted our progress across the floor. Kissing the back of my hand, he bowed and then continued, “Makes her easy to find when a fellow wants to dance with her.”

  He passed my hand to Edward, who had come upon us without my noticing. “You don’t look fit company for such a beauty, cousin,” O’Malley said. Then to me, he added, “If you get tired of scowls, come and find me.”

  He winked and then was off, just as the musicians finished tuning and began the next waltz.

  The earl’s hand was hot in the small of my back, and his mood was prickly and dark. We danced a while in pained silence, and I waited for him to open the inevitable argument.

  Instead, he said, “Duncan is gay, is he not?”

  I smiled. “Indeed he is. I believe he fancies himself something of a rogue, but he’s actually quite charming.”

  “Many women find rogues to be so. Quite unaccountably, to my thinking. But Duncan is, in fact, a pirate, and pirates have their charm, or so I’m told.”

  “A pirate! Truly?”

  The earl nodded. “Truly.”

  “How fascinating. Clearly, it runs in the blood.”

  Lord Meath gave a dry laugh. “Clearly.”

  “Mr. O’Malley thought that you might be angry with him,” I probed carefully. “He said you looked like a thundercloud.”

  “That sounds like Duncan,” replied the earl. “And perhaps I was, in a way. You and I had not finished our conversation, and he could see that well enough.”

  “Well, I had promised him the dance.” My gaze fluttered down to the top button of his shirt. Courage, Ada. “But you and I know that it was me you were angry with.”

  The earl gave a weary sigh, and I glanced up. “I’m not angry with you, but you must go. This adventure of ours has become quite dangerous.”

  “Are not all adventures, by definition?”

  He frowned. “Perhaps. But as much as I’ve enjoyed your company, as much as I have benefited from your … your insights and quick intelligence—and, moreover, your compassion and warmheartedness—I am unwilling to expose you to further risk. I care about your life, Ada. Do you not see? It’s selfish of me to keep you here.”

  He had again used my Christian name, and I was trembling. But I pressed on. “It is good, in that case, Edward, that you have no authority over me. I will remain because I am unwilling to leave you to your fate, whatever that might be. Because I know that something dangerous is happening, and I believe you need my help. And you may stop feeling selfish about it, because, in fact, you have no say in the matter.”

  He might have looked less affronted had I slapped him, and I was sorry for that. But he was a naval officer and an earl and, therefore, unused to being opposed. It would require all my strength of purpose to hold my ground.

  “You are refusing to conform to my wishes in this matter?”

  “I am,” I said, softening my tone. “And I hope you will not be angry with me for long, because that will pain me.”

  The waltz had ended, and he released me. We remained facing each other but not touching, drawing curious gazes.

  “You will not so easily defy Queen Isolde.” He sounded defeated rather than angry now, pressed to measures he’d rather not take. How was I to stand against the queen?

  “There will be no need for that.” The queen had joined us on the dance floor. “I’m of no mind to force a clever young woman to do anything other than what she chooses.” Isolde smiled at me and held out her hand. “Are you ready, Miss Quicksilver?”

  My eyebrows lifted, and I glanced at the earl. I had assumed the queen to be jesting when she claimed a dance with me.

  “Cousin,” he pleaded softly, “can’t you see you’re frightening her? Leave off with this nonsense.”

  I was feeling something rather close to alarm, but it was time to disabuse him of this persistent notion that I needed protecting. And unless I was mistaken, the queen had just stated her intention to let me stay, and I was grateful.

  “I’m not frightened,” I assured them both. I took a step toward the queen. “Merely surprised.” I placed my hand in hers. “Who shall lead, Your Majesty?”

  She laughed and swept me onto the dance floor. “I shall, of course!”

  The queen was an excellent dancer, and she was resplendent in deep emerald green. Her hair towered impressively on her head—dark coiling plaits embellished with large white roses and deep-pink peonies.

  “I misjudged you, my dear,” she said.

  “Did you, Your Majesty?” A tremor sneaked into my voice.

  “Twice now. You are not a plaything, and you are not meek.”

  I acknowledged this with a bow of my head. “I hope not, Your Majesty.”

  “What remains to be seen is, are you brave?”

  “I believe I am.”

  “Mmm, well, you shall need to be. Do you know that Lord Edward is sometimes overtaken by Diarmuid, his ancestor?”

  So it was true. “I suspected that to be the case.”

  We spun to the edge of the dance floor, and I caught Duncan O’Malley’s eye. He nodded at me and continued conversing with … thin air. But I had no time to make sense of what I’d seen.

  “Ah, but do you know why?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” I admitted. “Both Lord Meath and I had hoped you might be able to help us answer that question.”

  The queen proceeded to relate a story that was by turns illuminating, fascinating, and frightening. Isolde’s mother had been an Ulsterwoman who descended from the warrior queen Maeve, just as Edward descended from Diarmuid through his father. In researching her family tree, the queen had also learned that the Fomorians were coming to carry out an ancient plan of conquest—setting a curse on the people of Ireland, with the expectation of claiming the island for themselves.

  “A million lives,” I replied when she had finished. “That is quite a burden for Lord Meath to carry.” I began to understand why he had tried to dismiss me.

  “So it is. But it would seem to be his fate. And he will not fight alone.”

  “Certainly not,” I agreed. “But do you think it must come to that? Fighting, I mean.”

  “The Fomorians are coming, there’s no doubt about that. And my soldiers must fight alongside all of Faery if we are indeed to prevent this tragedy.”

  “And Diarmuid will lead them?” I asked.

  The waltz was slowing, and the queen halted abruptly but did not release me. “Diarmuid will lead his warriors; I shall lead mine. What remains to be seen is what part you shall play, Miss Quicksilver.”

  I swallowed and forced myself not to break away from the intensity of her gaze. “I do not know, Your Majesty. I am not an important person like you and your cousin. But I do have knowledge that may be helpful. And I do … I do care about him. Childish as that may sound to you. I’ll not abandon him. I’ll not abandon either of you.”

  The queen smiled at me then, less like a queen than like a sister
or friend. Then she leaned forward, and before I understood her intention, she had touched her lips to mine. The kiss was brief but soft and full-lipped, and it so startled me that I stepped back, warmth flooding my cheeks. Before I had regained my composure, she walked away.

  “You looked as though you could use this.” Duncan O’Malley reappeared, pressing a champagne glass into my hand.

  I raised the glass and swallowed a mouthful—and discovered that it was not champagne, but a potent punch containing champagne and absinthe, cut slightly with fruit juice. Allowing myself one more sip for courage, I then placed the half-emptied glass on the tray of a passing servant.

  “Has Edward been a gentleman this evening?” asked O’Malley.

  “Lord Meath is never other than a gentleman,” I assured him, though in my experience that was not entirely true. “In fact—”

  I failed to complete my sentence, because I suddenly noticed a vaporous apparition next to Duncan O’Malley—none other than his pirate ancestress.

  “Captain O’Malley,” I said in greeting, recalling Duncan’s conversation with what had appeared to be thin air. The absinthe-induced second sight appeared also to run in the blood—both his and mine. “I’m relieved to see you survived your ordeal. I take it the Fomorians have been subdued?”

  “Aye, for now,” she replied, but she was moving away from us, toward a knot of revelers that had formed around the queen. “I need a word with the high-and-mighty miss.”

  She moved briskly, and I gasped as it appeared she would collide with Lord Meath, who was striding our direction. Then I watched him pass directly through her without even seeming to notice.

  “May I help you to a plate, Miss Quicksilver?” he asked, joining us. He fixed a warning glare on O’Malley. “There is more I would say to you.”

  “If you wish,” I managed to reply calmly despite the worried movement of my heart.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Duncan,” he said to O’Malley, who raised his glass with a grin.

  “Go to it, cousin.”

  O’Malley might be as good a judge of people as he claimed, but he was quite mistaken in this case. I could not speak to any jealousy on the part of Lord Meath, but he was certainly not about to ask me to marry him.

  He led me to the banquet tables, handed me a plate, and offered to serve me from each dish. There was roasted meat of every variety, salmon and shellfish, potatoes and apples cooked a dozen ways, a dizzying selection of cheeses, and an entire table loaded with pies, cakes, and puddings.

  I was feeling a little queasy in anticipation of our next interview, but to mask my unease, I accepted portions of fish and vegetables. Then I followed him to the end of a table, where it looked as if we might enjoy some modicum of privacy—as much as we were likely to get in a room full of a hundred revelers. We were the object of many curious gazes, but Edward’s dark looks were more effective in frightening off his other relatives than they had been with Duncan. Clearly, Duncan felt that his cousin took himself too seriously, but I doubted he was fully aware of the burdens the earl was carrying.

  As soon as we were seated, the earl said, “I’ve begun badly, Miss Quicksilver—Ada—and I hope you will forgive me and allow me to begin again.”

  I frowned, wary, but replied, “All right, my lord.”

  “What I had wanted to address first with you is our position with regard to one another.”

  Confusion supplanted wariness. “What position is that, my lord?”

  The earl appeared nervous and would not meet my gaze for long. But he continued. “This spirit with whom I’m involuntarily communing has caused me to take liberties.”

  “Yes, but we’ve—”

  He raised his eyes to my face. “Please hear me out, Ada.”

  I nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “Furthermore, we spent an evening alone together—in a way that must have appeared quite compromising. It will not be long before that fact is common knowledge, if it isn’t already.”

  I wondered whether he meant that the queen or O’Malley would speak of it to others. I believed this unlikely, but servants had been on the strand that morning. I had overheard something on the boat that led me to believe Duncan O’Malley had speculated I was Lord Meath’s mistress. If he thought so, as the queen initially had, would not the servants draw the same conclusion? I did not like to think of the whole O’Malley party whispering about us.

  “I know that you do not wish to return to London,” continued Lord Meath. “But I wonder whether my concerns and my wishes might carry more weight with you were we … were we man and wife.” The fork that I had raised when he began speaking now clattered noisily onto my plate. But he forged on. “I know that I would rest easier knowing that you had not been tainted by your association with me. I would also rest easier knowing I had a claim to come to you should I survive the ordeal that’s threatening my country. And should something happen to me, you would be left a widow with means to do whatever you like with the rest of your life.”

  The booming laugh of Duncan O’Malley rang out from a distant corner of the room. Most likely unconnected to my conversation with the earl, yet highly coincidental. Lord Meath had carried a glass of punch for me, and I took it now and drank half. I drew a deep breath, let it out, and fixed my gaze on him.

  “You wish to marry me to save us both embarrassment,” I said. “You also wish to marry me so that I will be obliged to obey your commands.”

  The earl’s mouth opened, but I held up my hand. “And the queen, of course, would be unlikely to intervene in an argument between us once we are man and wife. I can think of no more promising setup for marital disaster, my lord.”

  I rose from the table, shaking. So many emotions warred within me, I hardly knew which to voice. My heart had involuntarily swelled at his proposal—had warmed like a lovesick fool at the thought he might have fallen in love with me. Then my mind reeled from the cold realization that he had proposed to me so he could feel justified in giving me orders. Did he expect that a scholar of modest means would be so enchanted by a proposal of marriage from an earl that she would readily assent? The fact that he was so obviously concerned for my safety only added a twist of sweet to the bitter.

  Knowing I was very close to tears, I fled, unwilling to give the O’Malleys further cause for gossip. Lord Meath called after me once, and I could hear the pain and frustration in his voice, but I could not stop. I crossed the hall to the double entrance doors, which now stood open to circulate the air. Passing through them, I believed I was safe, but as I paused there catching my breath, another voice called my name.

  Madly, I scrambled away, scheming to dash for my chamber and escape the much taller and certainly much swifter Duncan O’Malley. But moments later, I was hopelessly lost in the labyrinth of corridors, and I halted with a groan of frustration.

  O’Malley joined me silently, reaching for my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

  “I’ll see you there safely,” he said with a gentle smile.

  Tears of hurt and anger stung my eyes, and I let loose a strangled sob. To his credit, O’Malley kept his gaze straight ahead, and soon we’d found my chamber door.

  “I see that he’s mangled it worse than I feared,” he said.

  “I am well, Mr. O’Malley,” I choked out. “Thank you for your assistance.” I wanted nothing more than to escape to my chamber and close the door between myself and the whole O’Malley clan.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest,” said O’Malley. “But first, I promised to deliver a message.”

  I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob, and he held out a slip of paper. I took it from him and opened my door. Once it was closed, my back pressed against the other side, I opened the note. The lamps were too low to make out the hastily scrawled writing, so I carried the note closer to one of them. Turning it up, I read:

 
Please understand, I’ve been ordered by the queen to give up absinthe. I can no longer answer for your safety. —M

  A QUIET AND UNIMPORTANT

  ENGLISHWOMAN

  Ada

  I sat up for some time, gazing over the moonlit countryside, not bothering to take off my ball gown. I wasn’t even sure I could do so by myself. When a maid came to tend to the fire and turn down the bed, I could have asked for her help, but I needed to be alone so I could think.

  The earl had not intended to wound me; I had accepted that. He simply hadn’t known what else to do. He felt unable to continue being responsible for me—he had the weight of a million Irish men and women on his shoulders, after all. I believed that he asked me to marry him out of pity, in a way. To protect my reputation, but also to lessen the sting of his dismissing me after a measure of intimacy had been forced on us.

  I began to think that perhaps I should go home. The coming battle was not mine. These were not my people.

  “I would only be in the way,” I murmured.

  In any case, I would not be accepting his unusual offer of marriage. I could not agree to marry someone who didn’t love me, not even an earl. Furthermore, I had such an independent nature, I might not be suitable for marriage at all.

  As for my own feelings, I could not defy him and remain by his side simply because I fancied myself falling in love.

  But what if he needed me? The thought resurfaced persistently. What if I could help in some way? If I truly cared for him, did it not mean that I must try?

  These questions had no ready answers. I was tired, and somewhat muddled from the strong drink. At any rate, I could not leave on Christmas Eve. Nor even on Christmas, probably. Which meant I had some time to think.

  Even a resolution to do nothing was still a resolution, if only a temporary one, and it gave me some peace.

  I had just resolved to ring for the maid to help me undress when I heard loud voices in the corridor. Arguing voices—masculine ones that I recognized. Suddenly, there was a heavy thud against my door, shaking it on its hinges, followed by sounds of a struggle.