An Irish Heart

by C M Blackwood

  Aggie clapped her hands together. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, dear! Come in, both of you!”

  She rushed off to start the kettle boiling.

  “Sit down, now, girls,” she said, setting three cups on the table. When she had poured the tea and set down a plate of cookies, she settled herself into her chair, and surveyed us cheerfully.

  “You two look well,” she said, reaching for a cookie. “It’s good to see that you’ve been taking care of yourselves.” She studied Thea’s face for a moment. “You know, Theodora, I’ve yet to meet anyone as beautiful as my Katharine – but you are absolutely breathtaking! You have the loveliest hair I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “It’s a well-deserved compliment. I must say, the two of you together are quite the sight!”

  I took a sip of tea. “Oh, stop that now.”

  “I’m only being honest, Katharine! Now, tell me all about yourself, Theodora.”

  “There’s not very much to tell, Mrs O’Brien.”

  “Rowan.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My name is Rowan, dear. My Albert died a few years back.”

  “Oh,” said Thea, reddening noticeably. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  Aggie smiled. “That’s all right. How could you have known about my Albert?”

  “Thea sells herbs,” I interjected, figuring that I would offer some tidbit to sate Aunt Aggie. If someone didn’t tell her something about her guest, she was apt to go on rambling for hours. “She’s very knowledgeable.”

  “That sounds interesting,” said Aggie, leaning forward in her chair. “Tell me all about it.”

  I laughed. “Oh, Aggie, you want everyone to tell you all about everything.”

  “Well, what’s the point in talking about the same old things all the time?”

  “None, Aunt Aggie. None at all.”

  ***

  “I liked your aunt,” Thea told me, as we rode back to the house that evening.

  “Well, that’s good – because she liked you too.”

  “Do you think?”

  “I know she did.”

  “Well, I’m glad. It’s nice to know your family.”

  “Is it?”

  “Sure it is. It’s like knowing a little bit more about you.”

  “What does knowing Agatha Rowan tell you about me?”

  “Well, I see a lot of her in you. It’s the kind of thing you can’t possibly know, until you see two people together.”

  “Oh, please!” I said with a chuckle. “I’m nothing like my Aunt Aggie. She’s always happy – she’s the kind of person you can spend hours with, and still not want to leave.”

  “So are you, Katie.”

  My reply was something of a stutter; for I had not expected her to say such a thing.

  “I – um – thank you.”

  “It’s a well-deserved compliment,” she said with a smile.

  ***

  While in line of becoming acquainted with family members, I suppose that now would be a good time to mention the day when the subject of Thea’s Uncle Dexter was renewed.

  I was in the kitchen, buttering a biscuit left over from breakfast, when a man’s face appeared in the window. It was so very sudden, that I screamed and dropped my biscuit; and Thea came running in, startled by the sound. She looked to me, and I pointed to the window, whereupon she looked to the window, and sighed with relief.

  “Uncle Dexter!” she exclaimed.

  She went to let him in. He came tramping into the house, flinging mud all about, and scratching his nose as if it were some sort of nervous habit. His beard, quite grey, was still of a length to be tucked into his belt (though at the moment it was hanging free), and his hair was rather long, too – though there was a distinct bald patch at the top of his head, so that the hair only grew from the sides. He flopped down into a chair, shook hands with Thea, and then tipped his head at me. He did all this without uttering a single word.

  “Kate,” said Thea, “I’d like to introduce you to my uncle, Dexter Burton. Uncle Dexter, this is my friend, Kate O’Brien.”

  He nodded to me, and scratched his nose.

  “I suppose I should tell you,” said Thea, “that he doesn’t speak. I daresay you would begin to think him rather rude, if you didn’t know that.”

  He only nodded again, and then started in on the biscuits. He had eaten all four that remained in about half a minute, scratching his nose all the while.

  ***

  There really isn’t very much to tell about Uncle Dexter. He came to the house on a Thursday, and stayed until the following Wednesday, during which time he slept in the parlour and joined us for all of our meals. On Wednesday afternoon, he went out for a walk, just as he did every other day; but when supper time came, and we had postponed it already for a full hour in anticipation of his return, Thea announced that he must have gone. He had brought nothing with him, and so had nothing to take; which made it impossible to know, whether he were truly gone. But Thea was confident in the fact that he was, and insisted we eat before the food grew any colder.

  After the day of his departure, I don’t believe that the subject of Dexter Burton ever came up in conversation; for, after all, how much was there really to say about him? He never spoke (though because he would not or could not was something never fully explained to me), and seldom even made eye contact. He ate, and slept, and walked – and then returned to eat and to sleep, after which he would go out and walk again. Thea assured me that it had always been this way; and that it was always when he went for one of his walks, that he disappeared once again, for a length of time thoroughly unpredictable.

  And so that, for now, is quite as much as I have to say regarding Dexter Burton.

  Chapter 10

  December had just got on, and I was out tending to the horses in the barn. I brushed their coats conscientiously, smoothing out every lick, and removing every speck of dirt. By the time I was done, they shone like ivory and jet.

  And it was then, that someone’s sudden speech gave me a terrible start.

  “Well, Kate – I see that you’re taking well to your new establishment.”

  I spun about in an instant, my heart pounding like a jackrabbit’s foot.

  I found myself, somehow, unsurprised at the identity of my visitor.

  “Goodness, Jeffrey! What are you doing here?”

  “I heard recently that you were staying –” (he looked all around, taking in the house and the yard) “–here.”

  “But what are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “Really so unhappy to see an old friend?”

  “We weren’t friends, Jeffrey. I would have been happy to be your friend – but you wouldn’t let it be so.”

  “We would have been –” He stopped himself with what looked to be some difficulty, holding up his hands and pursing his lips. “Never mind that, I’ll not pierce that subject now. I just wanted to see how you were getting on.”

  “Well, thank you. But you could have just written.”

  “And would you have written back?”

  “Of course I would have.”

  He sneered. “You’re lying – but I’m not going to hold it against you.”

  “How good of you.”

  “Considering the way you’ve treated me, I think it is very good of me.”

  I walked a-ways out of the barn, out into the drive to appraise Jeffrey Donovan.

  “Why even come and see me, Jeffrey? You only seem bitter.”

  “Do I?”

  “I think that you know it.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say, Kate? I told myself that I didn’t care about you anymore. I wondered why I ever wasted my time on you in the first place! You are considerably below my own station, after all.”

  “You really know how to flatter a girl, Jeffrey.”

  “I’m not trying to flatter you. You don’t deserve the effort.”

  “Then why are you here?”
I asked exasperatedly.

  He looked around again. “I just couldn’t help pondering the situation. Really, I couldn’t. What in the world are you doing here? Living with Theodora Alaster, a woman whose rank, in all fairness, is far above yours? She’s a well-known name in this town. It just seems strange to me, I suppose, that two people of a higher caste would take an interest in the same difficult girl.”

  Till then, you see, I had never much thought of Thea in that way. But now that I did, it was true enough. She was far wealthier than I had ever been – and could have indeed given Jeffrey Donovan a run for his own money.

  “How did you get here, Kate? How did you meet her?”

  “You’ll excuse me for pointing out that that’s none of your business.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re quite excused – but you’re not off the hook. I want to know how you got your claws into this woman!”

  “What are you talking about, Jeffrey?”

  “You’d never even associated before. You were perfect strangers. Now, tell me – what makes a perfect stranger take pity on a poor, orphaned twenty-two-year-old? Why does she care what happens to you?”

  I was more than a little deterred by the strangely wild look in his eye. “What does any of this have to do with you, anyway?”

  “Are you blackmailing her?” he asked. He had no reservations; he moved closer, lowered his head down near to mine, and whispered: “Did she kill your father?”

  “What are you talking about?” I repeated, my tone grown wary. “My father’s not dead.”

  “Oh, but I think he is. Why would he have risked so much, first and foremost being the wrath of George Shaughnessy? No, I think he’s dead.” He tried to make his expression sweet. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Even if he were,” I said slowly, “I’ve no knowledge of anything that may have happened. And Thea certainly doesn’t, either.”

  “Oh, Kate,” he said, leaning coolly back against the house. “You’re forgetting, I’m a man who likes questions with no answers. They give me a chance to exercise this old brain of mine.” He raised a hand to tap the side of his head.

  “Jeffrey,” I said seriously, taking a step towards him; “I don’t know what you think you know, but I assure you –”

  “Were they conducting some kind of an affair? This woman and your father? Believe you me, those kinds of things have a way of ending poorly.” He smiled at me. “And it would have given you a lovely opportunity to swoop in and collect on the penalties.”

  I stepped forward again, and slapped him right in the face. “How dare you, you filthy piece of –”

  “Laying hands on me, now? You need to learn your place, girl. You could have been more than what you are, so much more – but you turned away from that. You have no rights when it comes to me. Do you hear me?”

  His hand came down hard against my cheek, and I fell down into the dirt.

  “What in the hell is going on out here?”

  I looked up, and saw Thea coming quickly down the back steps.

  Jeffrey looked at me. “Why don’t I ask her myself?”

  “You’re only being spiteful – and you know it! Whatever you think there was between you and me – please, just let it go.”

  “Whatever I think . . . ?” He looked like he might cry. “How can you talk like that? Like it means nothing?”

  “It doesn’t! I don’t even know you!” I winced, as I worked my jaw. “Or, rather – I wish I knew even less.”

  Thea reached down to help me to my feet. She then turned her attention to Jeffrey, and said calmly, “I think that it’s time for you to leave, Mr Donovan. Had you chosen to come to the front door, and knock like a sane individual, then you would have been welcomed into my house.” She stared hard at him, seeming to wonder why he was not turning to go. “But you are no longer welcome.”

  He shook his head, her words flowing directly through his ears. His eyes were only on me. “Kate,” he said, “I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, you know that. I don’t know why I said those terrible things, really I don’t.”

  I rubbed at my cheek, and glared. “Please go, Jeffrey.”

  “I’m sorry I hit you! I didn’t mean it – please forgive me!”

  “You seem not to have meant a lot of things, Mr Donovan,” Thea interposed. “If that’s truly the case, why don’t we just forget about what happened here today – and make sure that nothing like it ever happens again?”

  “Oh, Kate, you know I’d never do it again! I just – I just miss you, please understand. I feel like I’ve lost my greatest friend.”

  “Don’t take this too terribly to heart, Jeffrey,” said I; “but you were never a very good friend.”

  He hung his head, looking completely and utterly dejected. “I hope you change your mind. I still care about you, you know.”

  And, with that, he turned round and strode back down the drive.

  I worried over what sort of rumours might spring up, on account of his sour heart; but it turned out that I needn’t have bothered.

  It seemed that he meant what he said. From that day on, he respected my wishes, and ceased to try to contact me. (Be still my disbelieving heart.)

  I never did see Jeffrey Donovan again. By the time my mind was free enough to fall back upon him, if only for a moment, I learnt that he had left the area, and gone up to the city.

  But that was years later, of course.

  ***

  “Are you all right, Kate?”

  “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about it.”

  “Your cheek is bruising.”

  “It doesn’t even hurt,” I lied.

  “It looks like it hurts.”

  “Well, it’s fine. Really – I’m just sorry that he caused such a scene.”

  She looked at me, puzzling over something. I waited for her to speak – but she did not.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “I was just thinking. And I don’t want to offend you – so I probably shouldn’t say anything.”

  I sighed. “If there’s something you’d like to say, Thea, be my guest.”

  “Why is it that, even after what he did, you still feel the need to apologise for Jeffrey Donovan?”

  “He’s certainly not going to apologise for himself – and whatever problems I have with him aren’t yours. I shouldn’t have provoked him. Not here.”

  “And you think that any inconvenience on my part, is more important than your injury?”

  “What injury? I’m fine.”

  “That’s not the point.” She inspected my cheek. “And, by the way, you’re not fine.”

  “What is the point, exactly?”

  Her expression grew soft. “Jeffrey Donovan is not the first man to have hit you. Please tell me that you haven’t come to feel you deserve it?”

  I had to turn away from her, then. I suspected, you see, that there was some truth to her words – and I had never known it before.

  ***

  There was a strange thing that continued to happen, no matter how hard I tried to subdue it. There was an odd pressure in my chest that never seemed to go away; it was accompanied by a strange bubbling sensation in my stomach. My palms often broke out in a sweat that would soon creep up to the back of my neck, spreading its discomfort across my forehead. My hands shook and my heart beat more quickly, more demandingly, than usual. All of this most always took place in the kitchen, while Thea and I cooked and stirred, bottled and cleaned. I never mentioned it to Thea, but I suspected that it had something to do with the combination of so many questionable ingredients, right under my nose.

  At least, that was what I told myself. In my heart I knew that it had nothing to do with the herbs, nothing to do with the hot fire that roared not five feet away. I had begun to comprehend its cause, the day Thea invited me to come and live with her. I hadn’t noticed the feelings that had started up in me, not at first, not while I fought through the complicated emotions I already had. But when all that c
leared away, it took only the slightest brush of Thea’s fingertips – as she passed me a bottle, as she rubbed nonchalantly at a stain on my cheek – to heat me up inside; to start a chain reaction consisting of all those things I described before.

  Of course, I had never felt that way before. Jeffrey Donovan inspired nothing in me but disdain. I had never really understood what love meant – meaning, of course, the causes and particulars of it, rather than the widespread ideal. There were terribly strong feelings attached to it, heady and overpowering, like a pungent but beautiful fragrance. It is quite an exceptional discovery to make, for someone who has never comprehended even a percentage of all these oddities; and it is rather unsettling, as well, for someone who is not altogether sure that she desires to comprehend these things.

  Which is not to say, of course, that I was yet convinced of loving anyone. You surely follow that it was only an idea which had taken hold of me, to analyse and anatomise as a sensation which was altogether new to me. Though the word “love” may have come to mind, in connection with these new thoughts and feelings, it was by no means a definitive state of conditions. One must be of the very foolish kind, and not so very respectful or earnest concerning “love” in the first place, if one fancies that one has fallen into it over the course of a matter of days. (This is not to say that, on hindsight, I cannot admit that I had indeed fallen by that time; but simply to point out that, the true presence of that aforementioned word requires a good deal more exploration and observation, before it can be stated without question. That is, of course – if it is of the kind which does indeed last a lifetime.)

  Anyway, I grew quickly accustomed to the restlessness of my leapfrog heart – and I never stopped suspecting that I might have a condition, just like my old Uncle Seamus – my father’s and Aunt Aggie’s brother who had died of sudden heart failure. (Though I tried to have a little more optimism about my own situation than that.)

  Chapter 11

  Not a day passed without some sort of interesting thing happening. Once, an abused wife came to Thea, seeking her assistance. Thea provided her with something in a bottle that would, as she claimed, make her husband be kind to her. A week later, we found out that the husband was dead and that the wife had inherited all of his money. She returned and hugged us both tightly, offering to share the money with us, insisting that without Thea none of it would have been possible. Thea declined the offer gently, careful to maintain that none of what had happened had anything at all to do with her.