Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
Cave of Secrets (16 page)
R
oaringwater House became an armed camp. Tom and his sisters were on one side, Herbert Fox on the other. When Fox occupied the great hall as if it were his own, the younger Flynns were careful to be elsewhere. They insisted on taking their meals after Fox had eaten. This made extra work for Cook, who grumbled to her mistress. All Mrs Flynn said was, ‘Leave them be, Cook.’
Catherine Flynn was caught in the middle of the silent war. The drawn look returned to her face and her appetite failed – in spite of Cook’s best efforts with the spices.
Mr Fox had a comment, however. Although his own food was over-salted, he claimed, ‘I have never tasted better food. I could eat like this for the rest of my life.’
‘When Father comes home he’ll sort that man out,’
Virginia
predicted.
Elizabeth was not so sure. ‘Herbert Fox would not be
waiting for Father if he were afraid of him.’
* * *
The William Flynn who returned to Roaringwater House in the autumn was very different from the William Flynn who had left in the spring. Gone was the jaunty confidence. Gone too were the men who had followed him. He was alone.
He drew rein on the hired horse he was riding, and sat staring at the house. It looked just as he remembered. Yet what had been beautiful to him once was ugly now. A dream gone sour.
Catherine. Oh, my Kate.
He heaved a sigh and kicked the weary horse. ‘Walk on, you poor brute,’ he said. ‘We may end up in the knacker’s yard together.’
William Flynn did not enter his front door, but rode around to the stable yard. ‘Give this beast a good meal,’ he told the groom. ‘I don’t want to have to pay for him if he dies. What’s that bay horse doing in the best loose box?’
‘He belongs to your guest,’ the groom said.
‘What guest?’
‘Miss Elizabeth’s fiancé.’
‘Her what? Are you certain?’
‘I am of course. He’s been here for weeks.’
William Flynn ran into the house. A score of possibilities,
all of them bad, were racing through his mind.
When he opened the door of the great hall he saw his wife and Herbert Fox on opposite sides of the fireplace. Mrs Flynn sat stiffly erect on a padded stool, trying to hide behind her wooden embroidery frame. Mr Fox slouched in William Flynn’s favourite chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. ‘Ah, William!’ he said without bothering to get to his feet. He might have been addressing a servant. ‘You’ve returned at last, I see. Did you have a pleasant time in England?’
‘Why are you here?’
‘Is that any way to greet an old friend who is paying a social call on your family? I fear I have been neglecting them – like you have been neglecting your property. Take that
Persian
rug for example.’ Fox nodded towards the item in
question
. ‘A work of art, really. Yet it is damaged.’
Flynn tried to hold his temper. ‘I did not cause the damage. You did it yourself on the night of the betrothal party.’
Fox smiled his ugly smile. ‘So I did. When I saw the rug that evening I realised you had been holding out on me, and I was angry. I am over it now. I am not one to carry a grudge – not if I can find a way to even the score.’ The smile grew wider. ‘You should congratulate me on my good fortune, William. Or should I say on my excellent business sense? While you were away I made a clever investment. I bought up a mortgage from one of Richard Boyle’s moneylenders.’
‘Eh?’
‘You heard me. I bought a mortgage on a piece of
property
which I have had my eye on for some time. Several years, in fact. The house is undistinguished in my opinion, and the land is far removed from any real civilisation. But since the place overlooks Roaringwater Bay it is perfectly suited to my purpose. You understand why, William,’ he said meaningfully.
The colour drained from Flynn’s face. He cast a despairing glance at his wife, who had risen to her feet. ‘What have you told my family, Herbert?’
‘Nothing, yet. Why don’t we call the children in here and get this over with? Or perhaps you would prefer to explain to them and your wife by yourself? I can be generous, you see, when I hold a winning hand. I shall leave you alone for a while.’ Fox stood up and sauntered from the hall. Just
outside
the door he paused and shouted, ‘Come down, children! Your dear father is home and has news for you.’
Tom was the first into the hall. His sisters pushed past him and ran to their father. He hugged each of the girls in turn, without really looking at them, then held out his hand to his wife. ‘You had best sit down again, Kate. There is something I must tell you.’
Flynn had the haunted expression of a man on his way to the gallows.
‘When I left here last spring I fully expected to be part
of a victorious army,’ he said. ‘Because I thought I could pay it back, I borrowed money in Dublin. Some of it went to equip myself and my company. I was sure the Lord
Lieutenant
would reimburse me.’ Flynn tried to sound reassuring. ‘Everyone was so certain …’ His courage failed him. ‘I signed a promissory note, Kate,’ he admitted in an embarrassed voice. ‘A mortgage on Roaringwater House. The man who loaned me the money was one of Boyle’s moneylenders.’
Suddenly his wife understood. ‘Oh, William!’ She swayed on her chair. ‘You signed our home away?’
In one long stride Flynn had his arms around her. Tom ran toward them but his father put out a hand to stop him. ‘Stand back, boy.’
‘I won’t! She’s my mother.’
‘And my wife. I want to protect her as much as you do.’
‘Liar!’ Tom exploded. ‘I know what a mortgage is. It means Herbert Fox owns this house now. How could you risk Mother’s home just so you could ride around on a new horse and wear plumes in your hat?’ Tom was afraid if he said anything more he would either cry or hit his father. He broke off speaking and ran from the room.
‘Go after him, William,’ his mother urged.
‘Why should I? Did you hear what he called me? I don’t have to take that from–’
‘Go after him,’ said Catherine. Her voice was no longer soft.
Flynn caught up with Tom in the stable yard. When he shouted ‘Boy!’, Tom stopped. Turned. Faced his father.
I will not run any more. I will not be afraid any longer.
Carrying a pitchfork, the groom emerged from one of the loose boxes. ‘Is there trouble?’ he asked anxiously.
Flynn waved him away. ‘Leave us,’ he ordered.
‘Now listen to me, boy,’ he said to Tom. ‘You have this all wrong, you do not understand the situation.’
Colour rose in Tom’s cheeks. ‘Why should I believe
anything
you say? You hate me,’ he accused. ‘You’ve always hated me.’
His father looked surprised. ‘I never hated you. I may not have expressed affection for you, but that is not my way.’
‘You are affectionate enough to my sisters,’ Tom said.
‘It is different with them.’
‘How? How is it different, Father?’
The man balled his fists. ‘You have no right to question me, boy.’
Tom stood his ground. ‘I believe I do. I’ve been the man of the family while you were away, and I’ve been learning things I never knew before. Now I want to hear the truth from you.’
‘I have always been honest with you,’ said his father.
‘If that’s true, answer this: why do you hate me?’
William Flynn relaxed his fists. ‘I doubt if you could understand.’
‘Try me,’ Tom urged.
The man gathered his thoughts. Things were happening too fast. He had lost the ability to resist. He said tentatively, ‘We must go back a few years …’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Your mother was lovely in her youth,’ Flynn recalled. ‘The loveliest creature I ever saw.’ A light came into his eyes. ‘Although her family was notorious throughout the region, she had many suitors. I was a youngest son and could not expect much of an inheritance – aside from a useless bit of land on Roaringwater Bay. But I had enough brains to court and win the woman I wanted.
‘I persuaded Catherine’s father to settle a substantial dowry on her. After we married she gave me three daughters in
succession
. With each one my wife grew more beautiful. By the time you were on the way she was breathtaking.’ Flynn swallowed hard.
‘Using her dowry,’ he went on, ‘I hired the architect who had built Palace Anne at Ballineen. I instructed him to create a suitable setting for my wife. Once we had a big house, I set out to make important friends. My ultimate plan was to gain a seat in the Irish Parliament. It was to be my tribute to Catherine and erase the taint of her heritage. Instead of shame, she would feel only pride.
‘You came along when I had almost given up hope of having a son. You were to be the crown on my happiness.
Alas, things did not go well. You were a large baby, and your mother was damaged giving birth to you. She became the frail, faded woman she is today.’ Flynn’s voice sank. ‘I blamed you for costing me the wife I loved. I have never known how to treat you, boy.’
‘Tom.’
‘Eh?’
‘My name is Tom.’
William Flynn gave his son a long look. He remembered Robert Boyle’s words:
I envy him, having the love of a father
. ‘Tom,’ he said at last.
The person standing in front of the boy was not the William Flynn he had known all his life. Tom realised that his father was a broken man.
‘Are we really going to lose the house?’ Tom asked.
His father seemed to shrink inside his clothes. ‘And the land,’ he admitted. ‘Yes, I am afraid we are. We cannot expect pity from Herbert Fox. He has always been merciless to those in his power.’
Random threads were coming together in Tom’s mind, forming a pattern, like that in the Persian rug. ‘Did Mr Fox force you to give him Elizabeth?’
‘He … persuaded me,’ said Flynn. ‘Herbert can be very persuasive. You see, he knows certain damaging things about me. He hinted that he would tell my wife unless I agreed to the match. So I did. You must understand, I was not being
totally selfish. I truly believed he would take care of
Elizabeth
. In the beginning he gave a good imitation of being fond of her. Now I see why he really wanted her.
‘You are still very young, Tom. If anything happened to me, no one would be surprised if my son-in-law took over the management of my property for the sake of my family. It is not uncommon.’ Flynn paused. Shook himself, like
someone
trying to throw off a nightmare. ‘But I made it even easier for him. Through my own foolishness, I handed him everything on a plate.’
Tom said, ‘What damaging things does he know about you?’
His father shifted his feet. Would not meet his son’s eyes. ‘The details of my business.’
When Tom spoke again it was with calm authority, the voice of command. ‘And just what business is that, Father? You had best tell me.’
The answer came out of the man’s mouth like teeth being pulled. ‘Herbert … acquires … various expensive items from abroad. Items that are in much demand here among the propertied classes. He does this in a way which means he pays no taxes on them. He’s very clever, you see. I mean … I used to think he was very clever. For years I have been selling the merchandise for him in Dublin.’
The pattern was clear now. Tom said, ‘But you secretly kept some of the things for yourself. Like the Persian rug.’
‘Shrewd guess,’ said his father.
‘I’m not guessing.’
‘All right, so I kept some choice items. I was entitled to take them. Herbert never did give me my fair share of the profits, and I wanted fine things for your mother.’
‘What would happen if the king’s agents found out about this business of yours?’
‘I would be thrown into prison,’ Flynn said bleakly.
‘And Mr Fox with you?’
‘Herbert knows many men in government. Greedy men like himself. He has built up a sizeable fortune over the years, and would be able to buy his way out of trouble. I am not in the same privileged position.’ Flynn slumped onto the mounting block and buried his face in his hands. ‘I am defeated, Tom,’ he moaned. ‘Step by step, I have brought disaster on us all. How can you ever forgive me?’
W
illiam Flynn went to bed drunk. And woke up the following morning wishing he were still drunk. Knowing Herbert Fox remained in his house.
Gloating
. Tormenting the women with his presence.
‘You might as well pack your personal things when I go to Cork to have the new title drawn up,’ Fox had told them last night. ‘I shall not leave until the weekend, to give me adequate time to survey my new property with William as my guide. You can go to Cork with me if you like, Elizabeth. We can be married there.’
In floods of tears, Elizabeth had fled to her room.
Fox laughed.
* * *
Donal was fishing from his little coracle when he heard a shout from the cliffs. Looking up, he saw Tom waving to him. He rowed toward the shingle beach.
Tom hurried down the hidden path to join him. ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ he told his friend. ‘I took a chance you might be.’
Donal noticed his flushed face. ‘What’s wrong, Tomás?’
The words burst out of him. ‘A man is taking our house and land.’
Donal thought it was a joke. He laughed. ‘Taking it where?’
‘He’s trying to claim ownership of it,’ Tom amended. ‘But I’m not going to let him. Let’s go find Muiris. I’ll explain to you on the way.’
As they were rowing into the marshy river mouth Donal said, ‘I never heard of a mortgage before. Are you sure you have it right? Someone else can actually own what is yours?’
‘I don’t understand it completely myself,’ Tom replied. With his oar he pushed the coracle away from a clump of willows. ‘I wish I had paid more attention when Mr Beasley was talking about business and keeping accounts. I suspect Muiris will know what a mortgage is, though. He knows about a lot of things. The first time I met him I never would have guessed …’
Tom did not finish the sentence. He was thinking of his father, and how little one knows what lies behind a face.
When the two boys reached the cabin, Muiris met them at
the door.
‘Fáilte isteach
, Tomás. The children were afraid you had abandoned us.’
‘I would never do that.’
Muiris put one hand on his shoulder. ‘I know, lad. Bríd, see who has returned!’
In the blink of an eye Tom was surrounded by family. Bríd was offering food to him, Maura was tugging at his hand to get him to listen to her. Muiris was smiling at him.
For the first time since they met, Tom felt shy in his uncle’s presence. While walking to the cliffs he had rehearsed what he would say. Memorised every word. Been confident of his reception because he knew Muiris.
Or did he? Who was behind that smiling face? Savages and barbarians, his father had said.
Tom dared not wait any longer for fear he would lose his nerve.
Plunge
in
.
‘You gave me my share of the spices,’ he said to Muiris.
His uncle raised an eyebrow. ‘I did, of course. Do you want more? I am afraid they are all gone now.’
‘You never gave me a share of the gold.’
Tom was afraid Muiris might be angry, but he kept
smiling
. ‘As much as any of us, Tomás, you are entitled to a share. But we only exchange a little of the gold at a time. We do not want to draw attention to ourselves.’
‘I need money right now,’ Tom insisted. ‘Not for myself; for my mother. So she can keep her house.’
‘I think we had best sit down,’ said Bríd. She motioned to the stools beside the hearth.
With the exception of Maura – who busied herself trying to plait ribbons into her mother’s hair – they all listened intently as Tom told of his father’s misfortune. When he got to the part about the moneylender Muiris stopped him. ‘Was that one of
Richard Boyle’s
moneylenders?’
‘Yes.’
Muiris slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. ‘There’s irony for you!’
Maura peered over her mother’s shoulder. ‘What’s a sironey?’
‘Irony,’ her father said, still chuckling. ‘Something with an unexpected twist. Tomás’s father does not have enough money to repay Richard Boyle’s moneylender, yet we have a fortune in gold we took from the self-same–’
Bríd frowned at him. ‘Wee Maura does not need to know these details, Muiris.’
‘The moneylender is not going to take our property anyway,’ Tom tried to explain. ‘Mr Fox is. He bought the mortgage on our house and land.’
Muiris stopped laughing. ‘Mr Fox? Mr
Herbert
Fox?’
‘The same. Why? Do you know him?’
‘I know
of
him.’ Once again Tom heard the sinister edge in his uncle’s voice.
‘Mr Fox and my father were in business together,’ Tom said.
Muiris sat so still he might have been carved from stone.
Tom continued with the story as he knew it, including Elizabeth’s engagement and William Flynn’s confession. Even Maura was listening now.
Muiris never took his eyes from his nephew’s face.
As Tom spoke, the pattern in the boy’s mind was
expanding
. Filling in details. ‘Mr Fox has wanted our land for a long time. It would give him a place where he can keep a closer eye on his business. I think his business is trading in stolen goods. He uses men and boats from his shipyard in Cobh to collect the loot smugglers store around the bay. Until my father went off to war, he was selling that merchandise in Dublin for Mr Fox.’
Muiris leaned forward. ‘I swear to you, Tomás,’ he said
earnestly
, ‘I was unaware that your father was Fox’s agent. We were but one of the links in a chain. Our only connection with Fox was through his boatmen. When we had valuable items for their market we left word at–’
‘The Castle of Gold,’ Tom interrupted.
His uncle’s mouth dropped open. ‘How could you know that?’
‘The night you told me the story of the castle, you said we would not land there “this time”. That could only mean you landed there at other times. What better place to leave secret messages than an abandoned castle people thought was haunted?’
‘Muiris always said you have a head on your shoulders, Tomás,’ Bríd remarked.
‘I have a head too!’ Maura piped up. She patted her unruly curls with both hands.
Muiris stroked his lower lip. ‘You put me in an awkward position, Tomás. We have just brought the first money from Limerick. It is in this house tonight, waiting to be distributed to the members of our sept. It might be a year or two before we have the entire amount. Although I do not know how large the mortgage is on Roaringwater House, I can make a guess. You may need it right now, but your share of the money we have here might not be enough.’
Tom felt his heart sink. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Wait a moment.’ Muiris went into the bedroom. There was a sound of furniture scraping across the packed earth floor.
Muiris returned. The timber box he carried was not much bigger than Catherine Flynn’s tea chest. This one was not brass bound and highly polished. It was weathered and tied with a rope. Muiris set it on the table and untied the rope.
When he lifted the lid they saw that the chest was full of coins. Maura clapped her hands.
Muiris began removing the coins. ‘This is a gold unite,’ he said, holding up a gleaming coin. ‘A new English coin, the equivalent of a
sovereign
. And these are old gold sovereigns. Here we have silver crowns and half crowns. And some
shillings, because they are easier to spend. We do not accept anything smaller.’
While they watched, he arranged the coins into equal stacks on the dresser. ‘This is my family’s portion. This one belongs to Séamus and his wife, this is for Seán, this will go to Fergal and his parents, and this …’
There was a stack of coins for every family in the narrow valley, as well as the six or seven others who lived farther up the river. The stacks were equal in size. When the chest was empty, Tom said, ‘What about my share?’
‘I planned to take it from my portion when we had all the money,’ Muiris told him.
Tom’s face fell. ‘I can’t wait until then. We’ll be living … I don’t know where we’ll be living in a year or two. But no place as nice as this.’
Donal shifted weight on his stool. Thought about the familiar cabin. The cosy sleeping loft, the shining delft on the dresser, the hen nesting contentedly in her box. Thought of Roaringwater House and the possessions he had envied. Made a decision. ‘Is some of that money mine too?’ he asked his father.
‘It is, of course, and Maura’s as well.’
Donal stood up. Stood tall. ‘I already have everything I need,’ he stated. ‘Give my money to Tomás so he can keep his home.’
‘Give Tomflynn mine too!’ cried little Maura.