Call Home the Heart (21 page)

By the end of her first month at Barnakilla, Muireann began to feel
that things were on much more even keel at the estate. Though the
court cases against Mr. Blessington the accountant and Mr. Henry the
lawyer were still pending, at least she had a specific date
calendared, the thirteenth of March. She hoped the estate would be
fairly solvent once some of Barnakilla's money was returned to its
rightful place.

 

 

Even more gratifying was the fact that all of her work schemes and
enterprises seemed to be bearing fruit. They had meat and fish in
plenty from the hunting, and the butcher had increased his order
steadily over the past weeks. The fresh and smoked fish and meat
were also selling well on the market stalls. Colonel Lowry and Mr.
Cole had also decided to help the feisty young widow and fill their
bellies at the same time with her high-quality produce.

 

 

The timber business was going very well, with the trees being cut
and rolled down to the dock without very much difficulty, to await
eventual transportation to Scotland and abroad. Deliveries to the
town of turf and wood had also increased steadily since they had
gone into business, so that Muireann eventually ordered Patrick to
buy two more carts if he could get them at a good price.

 

 

Lochlainn's furniture was exquisite, and he and Ciara had made the
ultimate sacrifice by selling off all of the pieces he had made from
their own home.

 

 

"But Lochlainn, that sideboard. I love it! Please, don't sell it!"
she had argued, tears pricking the back of her eyes inexplicably.

 

 

"You sold everything you had," Lochlainn reminded her, and ordered
the furniture all to be loaded on the cart.

 

 

Though Muireann knew Lochlainn would be cross when he eventually
found out what she had done, she waited until Lochlainn's back was
turned later and asked Patrick to take the sideboard off the cart
and put it in her room upstairs. It was so lovely, with its carved
acorns, she couldn't bear to let it go.

 

 

Many of the women had proven themselves excellent hands in the
kitchen and at sewing and knitting, and were educating the others.
They all gathered in the kitchen at night after supper, and stitched
together huge quilts from any scraps they had, or made bibs and baby
clothes. Their baking was also particularly fine, and many
Enniskillen residents said it rivaled that of the bakery. Muireann
had little chance to judge, since they couldn't afford to eat any of
what they made themselves at the farm, but she was pleased with the
praise.

 

 

Lochlainn instituted woodworking classes, which he held in his own
cottage, though Ciara complained about the bits of wood and sawdust
everywhere, so much so that Muireann made room for the men in the
bright warm kitchen as well.

 

 

Once a week they did the wash and made candles, and waited for some
warmer weather to herald the arrival of spring. The cottages were
all being repaired one by one, and some of the more experienced
builders looked over the mansion and made a list of the most urgent
repairs.

 

 

The women with no specific skills did the laundry, washing up, and
child-minding tasks, and also scrubbed the old house from top to
bottom. It seemed odd to Lochlainn that Muireann was content to be
living in a nearly empty house, but Muireann was too busy and often
too tired to care.

 

 

In truth, she was hardly even sleeping, for as much as she hated to
admit it, she was terrified of the nightmares she experienced
whenever she shut her eyes.

 

 

Lochlainn became concerned when he found her dozing in her chair
early one afternoon.

 

 

"I'm sorry," she said with a yawn, looking around the study
blearily. "I just can't seem to settle down at night. It's a strange
place, I suppose, and with so much going on in my mind, I can't
really rest."

 

 

"Are you unhappy about being alone?" Lochlainn probed gently.

 

 

Muireann looked up at his handsome face, and wondered if he recalled
the nights they had spent in Dublin together as vividly as she did.
But that time seemed so long ago now. It was ridiculous to assume
that he could possibly remember it after all they had been through
since.

 

 

"There is that too," she admitted reluctantly. "This house is so big
and draughty, and it certainly rattles."

 

 

"Would you like to come back and stay at the cottage with Ciara and
me for a few days? You'd be more than welcome. I'm sure my sister
would love the company."

 

 

Muireann smiled tightly. "I wouldn't like to inconvenience you. I'm
sure your sister would not be delighted with an unwanted house
guest, especially me."

 

 

So far, the two women had managed to be civil to one another, but no
more, despite all of Lochlainn's efforts to get them to be friends.

 

 

"Would you like me to move up here for a few days, just until you
feel a bit more settled?" Lochlainn offered, secretly looking
forward to the chance of being alone with Muireann again.

 

 

"No, really, it's very kind of you to offer, but I'm a grown woman.
It is silly to be uneasy in my own house. At my age I shouldn't be
afraid of a few nightmares."

 

 

This was the first time she had mentioned nightmares. He recalled
the night she had spent at his cottage tossing and turning.

 

 

"You never had nightmares in the hotel or the inn."

 

 

"I know. But I doubt it's anything to worry about. Probably just
something I ate before bed." She gave a wan smile, and turned her
attention back to her ledgers.

 

 

Lochlainn detected her nervousness, but decided not to pursue the
matter for the moment. "The next time I'm in town, I shall ask Dr.
Fredrickson for a sleeping draught for you."

 

 

Muireann blushed. "No, really, I'll be fine. I'm sorry I even
mentioned it."

 

 

Lochlainn replayed the conversation over and over in his head as he
went out to the sheds to work on a table Colonel Lowry had
commissioned. When he stopped work for a short rest, he went over to
his cottage and took some blankets and a pillow off his bed.

 

 

He crept into the kitchen, and seeing Muireann wasn't around, he
tiptoed up the stairs, and opened the door of the room next to
Muireann's own. It was a large lofty chamber with peeling
gold-flocked wallpaper. He made up a small pallet for himself in the
room, and asked Sharon and Brona to light a fire in it to help take
the chill off.

 

 

Next he headed into town to get some flour, salt, sugar and
vegetables. But his first port of call was the doctor's surgery.
There he managed to get some sleeping powder by explaining to the
doctor just what a strain Muireann had been under recently.

 

 

"I know people shouldn't take too much of this sort of thing, but
she's been overdoing it lately. She needs her rest. She hardly eats
or sleeps, and she does as much work as any man on the estate."

 

 

Dr. Fredrickson frowned. "If she's working that hard, it's a wonder
she doesn't fall into bed exhausted every night."

 

 

"I suppose you're right. She probably just has far too many things
preying on her mind."

 

 

Lochlainn brought the medicine home, and managed to slip it to her
in her stew when she wasn't looking. He was relieved to see her with
her head down on her desk an hour later. He gently lifted her and
carried her up the stairs to her own bedchamber. He laid her on the
four-poster and pulled the covers up over her, desperately resisting
the temptation to get in beside her as he had done in Dublin. What
would she think if she woke to find him there?

 

 

He kissed her brow softly, and crept out. He went into his own room
to stoke the fire, and looked over some estate papers there rather
than down in the study in case she should need him.

 

 

Lochlainn did hear whimpering sounds in the middle of the night, but
Muireann quieted after a while, so Lochlainn didn't feel it was
urgent for him to go in to her. At length he gave up his vigil,
satisfied that his little plan had worked, and slept the sleep of
the dead for the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 Muireann awoke the next day feeling far more refreshed, and
went down to breakfast almost skipping, she felt so cheerful.
Lochlainn was relieved to see her looking so much brighter, and
resolved he would give her more sleeping powder that night as well.

 

 

Just as she was finishing her morning chores, Mark came running into
the kitchen.

 

 

"Muireann! Muireann! There's a ship pulling up to the dock!"

 

 

Muireann dropped her axe, which she had been using to chop firewood
despite Lochlainn's protests that it was not a job for a lady.
Throwing a shawl over her dark navy gown, she ran to the shore.

 

 

There her cousin Michael was just disembarking. He hugged her
tightly and swung her around as she flew into his arms.

 

 

"I see you got my letter," she laughed, as she noted all the animal
pens which had been lashed to the decks.

 

 

"I did indeed, though of course your father had already promised to
send over your stallion and mare just as soon as you got yourself
settled," Michael replied easily, taking in his cousin's thinner
appearance. "I'm very sorry for your trouble."

 

 

Muireann waved his condolences away. "He's gone. There's nothing
more to be said. I just have to get on with my life. This place is
going to thrive now that we have more livestock," she said as she
strode up and down the pens and counted the cows, sheep and hens.

 

 

"You haven't left Fintry without a single animal, have you?" she
giggled a short time later, viewing the menagerie with delight.

 

 

"Not at all. Neil and I skimmed a few of the animals from each of
our estates. You paid for them with the money from the stocks and
shares Neil could liquidate for you at such short notice. I didn't
tell anyone anything, I swear. But some of the old aunts and uncles
sent you the hens and geese as wedding presents, and many of the
rest sent cash without having to be told anything."

 

 

"Mother and Father and Alice don't suspect there is something
amiss?"

 

 

"They did want to come themselves, of course. But with Alice
expecting, and your father's gout beginning to trouble him again, it
didn't seem a good idea. You know full well how rough the sea can be
at this time of year, though I must admit we did have a remarkably
good crossing.

 

 

"Neil would have come himself except that he has a mountain of
papers to go through on your behalf, and several very important
court cases pending which prevented him from getting away even for a
few days. But he sends his love and promises to contact Anthony
Lowry in Dublin over your lawsuit on the thirteenth of March,"
Michael told her.

 

 

Muireann smiled at the young man with bright red hair wanly. "I do
feel awful about deceiving them all into thinking that everything is
fine here. But what else can I do? You know what they're like."

 

 

"I know Uncle Alistair, at any rate." Michael laughed bitterly.
"He's completely intolerant of failure, and he always did have very
set notions about how you were to be brought up and to behave. He
would take one look at your dress, your hands, and he would insist
on you coming back to Fintry, even if he had to drag you back on
board the
Andromeda
."

 

 

"I don't look that bad, do I?" Muireann asked worriedly.

 

 

"All things considered, no. But I can see these are not the hands of
a genteel Graham sister," he said as he took her hand in his own
briefly before tucking it into the crook of his arm to escort her
around the ship.

 

 

"Neil took the liberty of ordering you some essentials if you're to
start your spring planting soon. And he also provisioned you with
staples: oats, flour, sugar and so on."

 

 

"His idea of staples seems quite odd," she laughed, spotting several
crates of wine and a chest of strawberry preserves.

 

 

"He's only trying to be kind. He has no way of knowing how bad
things are here."

 

 

She grinned as she espied the huge container on top. "Well, at least
there's lots of coffee, so not all is doom and gloom."

 

 

"Neil said if the ship sank, that was the only thing I should
trouble to save," he joked.

 

 

"That's very kind of him. He knows what I'm like without at least
three cups of it a day." Muireann chuckled.

 

 

She romped playfully around the deck with her old school fellow,
chasing after the canister, which he dangled just beyond her reach.

 

 

Just then Lochlainn came on board, and she introduced him to her
cousin. She noticed Lochlainn was looking particularly gloomy, and
he seemed to eye her tall handsome young brown-eyed cousin rather
suspiciously.

 

 

"Look at all the things Neil has sent out of my share money."

 

 

Lochlainn stared at the coffee and preserves, and her cousin
Michael, so suave and sophisticated in his expensive clothes, and
felt that Muireann was suddenly slipping away from him.

 

 

 "How nice," he said noncommittally.