Never Broken (8 page)

Mother cleared her throat a second time. “Yes. I am saying that.”

Excitement coursed through Sara. A miracle was occurring right before her eyes. “We can do so much good here, Mother. I know it. And once winter is over, everything will be better for us.” For the first time in months, Sara genuinely smiled. But, as she thought of her brother, the smile faded. “What about William?”

“I will take care of William.” Her mother’s voice took on its familiar, commanding tone. “He’ll understand.”

“And Quentin? I don’t have to marry him?”

“No,” she said. “You should marry for love, Sara. As your father promised.” She let out a long sigh. “I’ve been blind with resentment for so long. It wasn’t fair to your father or to you, either.”

Sara glanced at the curtains again, expecting Colm to emerge any minute now that he knew her mother had a change of heart and William would be handled. Her mother was the only person in their family who could make her brother listen to reason.

The curtains remained still.

Her mother sighed. “I feel much better now that I’ve talked to you.” She dabbed at the corner of one eye with her fingertip. “Mayhap now I can get some sleep.”

Sara turned to her mother, smiling again. “Mayhap we both can.” She accompanied her mother to the bedroom door. “Sara, my dear. I need to know one thing.”

“Anything,” Sara said, touching her mother’s arm. Even Mother’s nightclothes were made of the finest satin. Sara thought about the exorbitant cost of that one ensemble and how many villagers the money would feed.

“Are you sure Rory and Colm are gone?”

Sara frowned, stiffening as she heard a faint rustling sound behind her.

Her mother didn’t seem to notice. “I only ask because I know Edwin would have wanted them to be safe and happy. I’m assuming he provided for them in some way?”

Sara bit her lip, unsure what to say. Her mother’s change of heart made Sara want to tell her everything. Perhaps Mother would even insist on her cousins returning to the manor, instead of forcing them into an uncertain future in America. But wasn’t their future as uncertain here? And despite her mother’s sway over William, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn on Rory and Colm at some point.

Caution forced her to lie. “I don’t know where they are, or what provisions Father made for them before his death.” She rubbed her cold hands together. “All I know is that they left earlier this eve.”

Her mother gazed at her for a long moment before finally saying, “Ah. Very well then. I do hope they make it, whatever they choose to do now.” She kissed Sara on the cheek. “Good night, darling. I will see you at first light.”

Sara’s heart thumped in her chest as she shut the door. She hurried and threw the draperies aside. “Did you hear what Mother said?” Sara drew him into the center of the room.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I heard it all.” He tilted his head, his expression impassive. “You sound like you actually believe her.”

“I do! We aren’t going to London after all. I’m sure once Mother talks to William he will welcome you and Rory back to the manor.” She gasped. “Rory! It’s not too late to find him—to let him know he can come home.”

“Sara,” Colm said, his voice quiet and still.

She ignored both him and the gnawing doubt forming in her chest. She flew to her desk, sat down, then whipped open one of the drawers, pulling out a light blue piece of parchment. “I will write a note and send Hugh to Cork. The man has the tracking skills of a hound—he’ll be sure to find your brother.”

“Sara. Stop.”

Sara looked up at him, seeing the uncertainty she felt reflected in his clear green eyes. “She is sincere, Colm.” Tears blurred her vision. “She is truly sorry for everything.”

He shook his head. “Nay, lass. The day I believe a Gormley is the day I become Prince of England.” When she stiffened, he added, “You and your father excluded, of course.”

“I’m glad you at least believe
me
,” she snapped. “People can change, Colm. I know that shatters your negative opinion of everyone, but they can.”

“Overnight?” He hunkered next to her, his tone softer, almost condescendingly so. “You’ve always been a trusting soul. It’s one of your dearest charms, yet it is also your biggest downfall.”

“But…”

“I’m not sure what Lady Jane is about. Mayhap she is acting out of grief. Or her sudden conversion is genuine and borne from guilt for everything she’s said and done.”

“Colm.” Sara lifted her chin. “She is still my mother.”

“Aye. And her true character will emerge after she takes off her widow’s weeds.”

Sara turned from him, refusing to reply. How could she when Colm’s words had a ring of truth to them, one that had echoed in her heart only moments ago?

But she had to hold on to hope. Hope was the only thing that held her together through the recent months. She turned to her cousin, his face still a mix of pity and admiration. She knew if he stayed he would poison her against her mother—and he would eventually win. “You’d best be getting to the stables,” she said evenly. “Your boots are under the bed.”

He rose. “Sounds like I’m bein’ dismissed.”

“Those are words of your choosing, not mine.” Sara pulled out her feathered pen. “You know your way down the trellis. I have a letter to write.”

Colm’s mouth twisted into a wry line. “I can see stubbornness isn’t particular to us O’Learys. Promise me one thing. Do not tell anyone I’m here.”

“But what if…”

“Not another livin’ soul.” He held her gaze with his fierce one. “Give me your word that you’ll not speak of it to anyone.”

Sara put down her pen and stood, unable to remain cross with him when she wasn’t sure when she’d see him again. “I would never betray you, Colm.” She hugged him quickly. “I give you my word.”

After her talk with
Sara, Lady Jane returned to her quarters, and once again was consumed with loneliness. The depth of her grief over Edwin surprised her. Despite over twenty-five years of marriage and two children between them, she had never felt a deep, abiding love for the man. But now that he was gone, she felt an emptiness in her heart she couldn’t ignore.

Perhaps that was the reason she’d decided to stay in Ireland. For years, she had wanted to return to London permanently, but Edwin wouldn’t hear of it. Now the thought of going to England filled her with sadness. She realized how caring her husband had been, and how little she appreciated him in life. She sat on the edge of her massive four-poster bed and wiped her tears. “I’m so sorry, Edwin,” she whispered in the candlelit room.

A knock sounded on the door. Jane jumped as surprise and irritation filled her. Who dared disturb her in the middle of the night? Then she realized it might be Sara. She’d felt closer to her daughter during their short conversation than she had in years. She smoothed the wrinkles of her nightdress and opened the door.

Instead of Sara, William stood at the door, smartly dressed in expensive evening wear as if he’d just returned from a party or ball. Jane was curious as to where her son had been at this late hour, but from the bloodshot state of his eyes, she could guess. “Have you lost your way, William? Your quarters are on the other side of the house.”

He breezed in, the scent of alcohol and perfume that wasn’t Priscilla’s, heavy on his clothes. Clearly he’d been drinking, but when he faced her, he seemed completely in control of himself. “Shut the door, Mother.”

Wary, she did as he commanded. “It’s late,” she said, hoping his visit would be a short one.

“I’m aware of the time. I’m also aware that, according to the gossip among the servants, you have had a change of heart.” He moved to sit on the velvet chaise lounge near the window. His long fingers toyed with the silk drapes for a moment before he narrowed his gaze on her. “I thought our plans were set in stone.”

“Nothing is set in stone, my dear.” She stiffened her back, lifted her chin, and looked directly at him. She was his mother, and she would not be bullied. “There is plenty of time for Sara and me to go to London. Your haste isn’t necessary.”

“And what of Quentin?”

“What of him? If he truly desires to marry Sara, he will wait for her.”

“But I will not.” Before Jane could blink, William shot up from the chaise and crossed the room. “I do not like having my plans sabotaged, Mother. You, of all people, should know that.”

Jane’s eyes grew round. She had never feared her son while Edwin was alive. He’d kept their son in check, even though Jane had doted on him. She had wanted William to grow up with a love for his English heritage and not fall under the spell of Ireland or its people, the way Edwin and Sara had. But now, with her husband gone, Jane realized she had created a monster.

“I kept my end of the bargain. I sent Rory and Colm away.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. Her attitude toward her nephews hadn’t changed with Edwin’s death, even though she had pretended that fact while talking to Sara. She was relieved Edwin hadn’t made provision in his will beyond a home and paid education for Rory and Colm. That was more than they deserved. They were adults now and could make their way in the world. She would not have her sister’s children take any more money that rightly belonged to her son and daughter. She’d asked William to get rid of them, and he had gladly agreed, on the condition Sara marry a man of his choosing.

But Edwin always wanted his daughter to marry for love. He had made no secret of it. To force her to marry Quentin now seemed wrong. Jane’s heart squeezed in her chest.

William tugged on the lapels of his evening jacket. “Now it’s time for you to do your part and make sure to keep Sara in line. Her rebellious spirit is exhausting.”

“She will come around,” Jane said, desperate for her son to see reason. “She needs a little time to grieve her father.”
So do I.

“I don’t care. She is but a woman, and she will do as I say.” He leaned forward, his fetid breath in Jane’s face. “As will you.” He stepped back and smiled.

What have I wrought?
Jane regarded her son, once her darling and joy when he was a sweet, beautiful boy. Now he was unpredictable. Cruel. Why hadn’t she seen this before? Yet she was still his mother. She deserved respect. “And if I don’t acquiesce?”

William’s smile intensified, as did the menace in his eyes. “Sara could do worse than Quentin Bancroft. Much worse. Would you see your only daughter married, not only to a man of lower station, but one of lower morals as well?”

Jane gulped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.” William’s smile faded, and he sighed. “Now, as you said, it’s late.” He leaned and kissed Jane on the cheek. “You have a lot of packing to do.”

Jane stood still then flinched when he shut the door behind him. She had no doubt William would carry out his threat. She couldn’t let that happen. She loved Sara, despite treating her son as her favorite. It was as if her eyes and heart had been opened the moment she’d lost Edwin. He’d been her anchor, and she hadn’t realized it. She thought she had married him for money and convenience. Now she knew there had been love on her part. She hated that Sara wouldn’t experience that with her own husband.

What choice did she have, other than to agree to William’s demands? But she wouldn’t tell Sara she was going back on her word. Not yet. For the next three days, she would prove to her daughter that she was sincere, even if she could only show her for a short time. Then they would be off to London, and Jane would do whatever she could to protect Sara.

The morning dawned foggy, cold, and
damp. Shannon and Ainslee continued to trudge along the dirt road leading to Cork Port. Shannon’s wet hair, soggy from the heavy mist blanketing the air, clung to the sides of her face. Every bone and muscle in her body ached, and she had long ago lost feeling in her feet, despite the blisters covering them.

Compounding her misery, an overbearing feeling of dread had wound its way through her mind. She had never been on a boat before or near a large body of water. She didn’t even know how to swim. As they neared the port, she couldn’t keep the irrational thoughts about falling into the sea at bay.

She glanced at Ainslee, who didn’t appear to be faring much better in the damp coldness of the morning air. Her sister’s steps were a slow plodding, and she continually pulled the old scarf around her neck.

A few torturous hours later they caught sight of the port, and Shannon’s fear gave way to relief. At least the long journey on foot had come to an end.

“We’re nearly there, Lee,” she said, prodding her sister along.

Ainslee coughed with such force she stopped in her tracks. “Praise God,” she finally managed in a hoarse voice, followed by another spasm that wracked her body.

Shannon eyed her with concern, patting her on the back. “Is everythin’ all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ainslee said, meeting Shannon’s gaze. She brushed back a stringy strand of wet blonde hair from her eyes. “Just a wee bit of a cold, I’m afraid. The weather’s not helpin’ either.”

“I’m sure there’ll be shelter at the port,” Shannon said.

“I hope so.”

Once they reached the harbor, however, a frightening mass of confusion surrounded them. The pungent odor of rotting fish and saltwater hung thickly in the air. Shannon’s head swam as the morass of people crowding the docks carried them along. She grabbed Ainslee’s hand, lest they be separated. There was barely room to breathe, much less move. Travelers shouted and cried, desperate to book passage on the next ship out of the harbor.

Shannon’s spirits sank deeper when she saw the vessels moored in the port. Some were large and sturdy, but from the activity around them, she feared these were reserved for cargo. It was the old, decrepit tubs where tired, fellow countrymen stood in line. Aye, it was the ships that hardly looked seaworthy that were meant for transporting passengers.

Ainslee struggled through another fit of coughing, clinging to Shannon’s cloak for support as they inched along with the crowd.

“‘T’isn’t as bad as it looks, I’m sure,” Shannon said, searching for something to encourage them both. She turned to Ainslee. Her mouth dropped open at the pallor of her sister’s skin. Her health was declining rapidly.

She put her hand to Ainslee’s forehead. Heat hit her palm before it made contact with her sister’s skin. “You’re burnin’ up. Why didn’t you say somethin’?”

Shivering, Ainslee pulled the scarf closer to her. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I’m worried now!” Shannon’s gaze darted back and forth as she looked for an open space in the crowd. She had to figure out where they could book passage, and she had to do it soon, for Ainslee appeared on the verge of collapse. Putting her arm around her sister’s shoulders, she pulled her along as she steered them toward the nearest boat.

“Passage to America,” she said in Irish to a man at the front of the boat. Behind him, two large sails billowed in the increasing wind. Several people pushed her aside as they hurried to board the vessel.

The man barked out a harsh laugh and rattled off words in English. His tone was brusque and his words came quickly—too quickly for Shannon to comprehend them.

Ainslee leaned against her, nearly causing her to lose her balance. “Please,” she repeated in English as she tried to assist Ainslee. “America.”

The man sneered, but slowed his speech as he spoke to her. “Ye Irish are all the same. Stupid, poor…” He looked down the length of his angular nose, his gaze running the length of her body. “And filthy.” He jumped to the dock and stood in front of her, then turned his disdainful gaze on Ainslee. His long dark beard glistened with drops of mist. “I’ll take you,” he said, pointing a stubby finger at Shannon. “But not yer friend. I won’t have an outbreak of fever on my ship.”

His rank breath made Shannon’s stomach churn.

The crowd thickened and she felt trapped. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it. She had to be strong for Ainslee. It wouldn’t do for both of them to faint dead away on the docks, for surely they would be trampled without a thought.

“Please, sir,” she said, trying to remember the words in English. “My sister. . . rest. . . “

“Sister or no, she’s not coming. Many families have parted ways on the docks, which don’t bother me none. Say your goodbyes and get on board.” He turned around and jumped back on the ship. “I’m leaving now.”

Ainslee looked at Shannon. “You go,” she said, her lips trembling. “I’ll join you later, once I get better.”

Leave without Ainslee? Never. “Nay,” she said, guiding her sister back through the throng to the center of the dock. “Remember, we stay together.”

Ainslee didn’t reply, but her weak smile touched Shannon’s heart.

With her arm firmly wrapped around Ainslee’s tiny waist, they threaded through the milling crowd. Finally, after nearly losing hope of finding a spare inch of space, she spied a small empty area on the far side of the dock. A tall stack of crates wrapped with thick rope edged the area. She slowly worked their way through the crowd to the spot, then Shannon slipped Ainslee to the ground. Her sister needed rest. Three large rats skittered behind them. Shannon jumped, but Ainslee didn’t flinch. She didn’t even seem to notice.

Shannon knelt down and gathered her sister in her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks. How could this be happening? First their mother, now her sister. “Please, Lee,” she whispered through her tears, arranging her sister’s limp body so her head lay in Shannon’s lap. She brushed back the wispy blonde hair from Ainslee’s fevered forehead and pressed her frozen fingers to her sister’s hot cheeks in hopes of cooling them. “Don’t leave me. I’m so sorry I made you do this, so very sorry. You were right, we should have stayed with Ma and Da. We should have kept fightin’.”

Ainslee’s eyelids fluttered open. “You can keep goin’.”

“Nay!” She softened her tone. “You’ll get better, Lee. When you’re rested, we’ll find another ship.”

“Aye,” Ainslee replied, closing her eyes.

Shannon hugged her frail sister close. “I’ll take care of you,” she repeated in a thick whisper, rocking them both back and forth. “I’ll never leave you.”

Jamey stood apart from
the rest of the crowd, deep in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse. With crafty eyes, he surveyed the destitute Irish that teemed all over Cork harbor like rats stuck in a deep, dark cave.

He glanced at his tall, thin partner in crime. “What ‘cha think? See anyone that would make an easy mark?”

“’Tis a sorry lot, Jamey,” Seamus said. He clucked his tongue. “Easy pickin’s, but I ain’t sure what we’ll be findin’ on ‘em. They all look like the walkin’ dead.”

“Anythin’s better’n nothin’.” They had made good coin the past few weeks robbing unsuspecting arrivals at the docks. He tilted his head in the direction of the throng. “Follow me, lad. For sure we’ll find someone. We always do, eh?”

They made their way through the crowded dock, their purposely disheveled appearances allowing them to mix in with the other peasants. When they were halfway down the harbor, Jamey tugged on Seamus’s coarse woolen coat. “Over there. By that pile o’ crates.”

“The two lasses?”

“Aye.”

Seamus nodded with a grin. He and Jamey hurried back to the abandoned warehouse and slipped inside. A few minutes later they reappeared and headed toward the young women.

“Is me collar on straight?” Jamey asked, adjusting it around his bulging neck.

“Aye. Ya look like a regular priest. I’d even confess me sins to ya.”

“Good. An’ your friar’s robe would fool St. Francis himself.” Jamey laughed. “Ready?”

“Aye, I’m ready.”

The men approached the two women, avoiding the rats that skittered about the crates. The old wooden boxes stank like week-old fish mixed with the rotting scent of moldy potatoes.

As they neared, Jamey got a better look at the women’s condition. The dark-haired maiden held the other one, a pitiful, ashen-faced, blonde-headed girl. A trickle of blood colored the corner of the sickly one’s bluish lips. The dark haired girl’s head was down, her body as still as the blonde. It seemed both of them were asleep, unconscious, or perhaps dead. Whatever their plight, it didn’t matter to Jamey.

“Such a peaceful picture,” Jamey said dryly, crossing himself to keep up the ruse. “If they’re alive, t’would be a shame to disturb it.”

“Now Jamey, don’t be gettin’ all soft on me.”

“Never. I reckon ’twill be the easiest job we’ve had yet.”