The Irish Upstart (14 page)

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Authors: Shirley Kennedy

BOOK: The Irish Upstart
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Sinead burst into laughter.

My, my, he must be desperate. But no, that’s going too far. I could never go to England.

She eyed Thomas intently.

What else?


Then...

Thomas flicked a quick gaze at Evleen before he continued,

If you are concerned about Patrick going to England alone, Lord Trevlyn has suggested one of your daughters could accompany him.


And how would she be treated?

asked Sinead.

For all I know, Lord Trevlyn would make a servant of her, force her to share a cold, tiny room in the attic with a scullery maid.

Lord Thomas drew in a patient breath.

If you would allow it, the daughter, whichever one you chose, would be accorded every consideration, every luxury. She would have a Season, as well as clothes, jewels, and, as Lord Trevlyn put it, ‘baubles to her heart’s content’.


Baubles,

Sinead repeated, voice oozing with contempt.

You ask a true daughter of Ireland to trade her beloved land for baubles?

Blast
. Thomas had known this would be difficult, but nothing like this. It was obvious that despite her illness, Sinead was still a willful woman, tenacious in her beliefs. He would treat her as such and lay down the hard facts. He’d not patronize her because of her present condition.


From what I understand, aside from your two adult daughters, you have a girl of fifteen, one of fourteen, and then Patrick, of course, who is ten.


That is correct, sir.


May I be brutally frank?


By all means.


I do not pretend to know your finances, but I would surmise, since you’re not in good health, these are difficult times for you.

At Sinead’s bare nod, Thomas proceeded.

Then think, madam, of what forty pounds a year would do. Fifty. I am sure Lord Trevlyn would be happy to raise the amount.


And in return I lose my son.


You don’t lose him. England isn’t that far away.
Of course you will
see him from time to time and–


I’ll lose him,

came Sinead’s anguished cry.

He’ll turn into a bloody Englishman.

Thomas could almost smile at the unexpected use of such a forbidden word coming from a lady—and Sinead O’Fallon was a lady, despite her poverty.

I assure you, Patrick will never forget his Irish heritage. Take my word, Lord Trevlyn is a reasonable man with great sensitivity. He’ll not turn Patrick into an Englishman, not ever. To make doubly sure, I would make him aware of your feelings.


Would you?

Sinead sat thinking so long that Evleen, who had been listening with obvious growing concern, now spoke up.


Mama, you’re not seriously entertaining the thought of relenting, are you?


I’m old and I’m sick,

Sinead answered.

Until this moment I never considered letting Patrick go, but the future of all you children is at stake. Lord Thomas has helped me see that perhaps, considering the wretched state of my health... I hate even to think it, but perhaps sending Patrick to England would be the right choice after all.

Evleen was flabbergasted.

You’re not thinking of going to England?


Of course not. I shall never leave Ireland.

In deep thought, Sinead bit her lip and pondered.

Evleen, would you go with Patrick if I asked you to?

Before Evleen could answer, Darragh, her face reddening, spoke up.

Why does it have to be Evleen? I’ll go, Mama, I would love to go.


Be quiet, Darragh,

Sinead commanded.

Well, Evleen?

Thomas watched as Evleen’s heavy lashes flew up in surprise, followed by a mixture of confusion, bewilderment, and downright astonishment spreading across her face.

I can’t believe this, Mama. That you would even consider—


Would you go, daughter?


Ireland is my home,

Evleen declared. She flashed a glance at Thomas that well displayed her indignation.


Mama, I would gladly go,

cried Darragh.

She doesn’t care, but I do. I—


Silence,

Sinead declared, her voice stronger than Thomas had yet heard tonight.

I’ll not hear one more word.

Pushing with both palms flat on the table, she shakily arose.

Help me to my bed, girls. Good night, Lord Thomas. You must stay the night—the girls will make a bed for you by the fire. Meantime, I shall think on Lord Trevlyn’s proposal and give you my answer in the morning.

* * *
 
                                       

Thomas couldn’t sleep. In his makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, he thrashed about this way and that, his mind in a scramble.
What have I done?
His arrival had created a turmoil that would affect the O’Fallons for the rest of their lives, no matter what Sinead’s decision might be. If she said yes, Patrick would be given a chance at a privileged life, but the family would be torn apart. If she said no, who knew what bitter recriminations might emerge in the future? Darragh’s feelings already were obvious. But might not Patrick someday resent his mother’s denial of his inheritance?

And then there was Evleen ...

He’d had to catch his breath when the door swung open and he saw her standing there, a surprised light vivid in her sapphire blue eyes, her hair hanging loose and like a wavy cloud around her delicate face. For a moment he allowed his gaze to drop to her tiny waist and those enticing rounded curves he’d been seeing in his dreams ever since he first laid eyes on her. He was loathe to admit it, but Evleen O’Fallon disturbed him in every way. Her slim, wild beauty haunted his thoughts, yet he must be sensible. Sinead would reject Lord Trevlyn’s request, he was sure of it. But what if she said yes? And further, what if she decided Evleen should accompany Patrick to England? That would mean...

Good God
. The journey back to England would take at least a week. He was faced with being in close proximity to a woman who’d dwelled in his thoughts since the moment they met. Driving a drafty carriage across Ireland... sailing across the Irish Sea in a flimsy ship... they would be thrown so closely together he would be hard put to keep his hands off her. He must not touch her, of course. Judging from those gritty looks she’d given him, she was in no mood to be civil to him, let alone entertain any modicum of friendship, let alone affection.

I would be better off with Darragh
, Thomas thought grimly. The younger sister’s whiny attitude was so off-putting he would have no trouble keeping his distance.

An errant flame sparked in the fireplace, then died down until the snug room was wrapped in complete darkness. Thomas inhaled a sweet whiff of peat. How different from home, he thought, where his valet would have laid out his night clothes, turned down his bed, warmed his sheets with a warming pan if the air held the least chill. Strange, but despite the humbleness of this cottage, he felt just as comfortable and at ease as he had ever felt in his own bedchamber at Northfield Hall. The O’Fallons had made him feel at home.

He wished he could fall asleep. Why was he still wide awake? Evleen. She must be in her bed by now, only a few feet from where he lay, those long, lithe thighs, that full, curved bosom all tucked snug, warm, and beguiling beneath the covers. And her shiny raven hair spread over her pillow. She was probably asleep already...

Which, dammit, I am not
.

Wide awake, Thomas thrashed about in his makeshift bed, rearranging covers that needed no rearranging. He’d be lucky if he got but a jot of sleep before morning.

* * *
 
                                       

The sun had not yet risen when Evleen, hearing her mother’s faint call, threw a shawl around her voluminous white nightgown and went to her mother’s bedchamber.

You’re awake early, Mama,

She
sank to a chair by the bed.

Sinead sat straight in her bed, fully awake.

I’ve hardly slept. I lay here thinking most of the night, and then I went to speak to Patrick.


Have you decided?

Darragh entered, shivering in her nightgown.

Yes, Mama, tell us. I’m dying to hear.


Go build up the fire and heat the porridge, girls. Wake Lord Thomas, if he isn’t already awake. Wake Sorcha and Mary. Patrick’s already awake. When we’re all at breakfast, I shall tell you my decision.

* * *
 
                                       

At the table, Evleen found herself holding her breath as they all sat waiting for Mama to speak. Patrick had a strange look on his face. Sorcha and Mary did not appear concerned, but then, Evleen concluded, they hardly knew what was going on. Not so Darragh, who sat with eyes alert, so eager to hear Mama’s decision she could hardly contain herself. And Lord Thomas...

He was up and dressed already when they came to rekindle the fire. Now he sat, seemingly at ease, yet Evleen perceived a certain tautness of his body and an alertness in his eyes.

Somehow Mama had found the strength to drag herself to the table again. Although she looked as pale and wan as ever, she sat straight, a look of serenity upon her face as if her decision, whatever it was, had given her great peace of mind. She was about to speak. Evleen pleaded silently,
please, Mama, let Patrick stay. Let me stay, too, because you need me
.

Sinead addressed Lord Thomas.

I have a question for you, sir, but first–

she looked at Patrick

—tell Lord Thomas your feelings about becoming an Englishman.

Patrick stood, squared his shoulders and fervently declared,

Even though my father was English, I shall never be an Englishman.


Tell Lord Thomas who you are, son.

Patrick proudly lifted his chin.

I am Patrick O’Fallon, son of Sinéad Coneeley O’Fallon, daughter of James Coneeley, Duke of Dormonde, whose roots can be traced back to Macha Mong Ruad, the red-haired queen who reigned over the land nearly three hundred years before Christ.

Sinead nodded her approval.

That’s enough, Patrick. I do believe Lord Thomas can see what your background is. Now tell us what you know of the part England has played in Irish history.

Without hesitation, Patrick continued,

After King James the Second landed in Ireland, to try to regain Britain from William and Mary, he was defeated at the River Boyne. Then the Irish who had not rallied to his cause, both Catholic and Protestants, were punished severely.


By measures from which we suffer to this very day,

Sinead interjected, with a meaningful glance at her visitor.

And that, Patrick, is one of a plethora of reasons why we do not like the English, is that not correct?

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

Indeed it is, Mama.

Sinead turned to Lord Thomas.

There you have it, sir. Does it appear to you the boy would, under any circumstances, ever forget his Irish heritage?


No, it would not appear so,

he replied. Evleen noted that if he was the least perturbed by Patrick’s words, he showed no sign of it.

Sinead smiled faintly.

I know what you think of us in England. The Irish are sinners, you say, and that’s true enough, but we’re much more. We are a mix of sinners, saints, gamblers, gentry, peasants, priests, rebels,
heroes
, villains, but we’re all Irish, and proud natives of this emerald isle. Lord Thomas, I must make it plain to you that Patrick is Irish through-and-through. If he lives to be a hundred, he will never be an Englishman.

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