Call Home the Heart (39 page)

 

 

"Would you be a good little girl and tell the mistress of the house,
Mrs. Caldwell, that her late husband's cousin, Christopher Caldwell,
is here to see her?"

 

 

Muireann tried to step away from his amorous advances, but he
continued to cling onto her like a limpet, until at last she stamped
on his foot and declared, "Let me go, sir! And before you take
another step towards me, I'd like to inform you that I'm Mrs.
Caldwell. So before you even make an bigger fool of yourself than
you already have, I suggest you keep your distance."

 

 

"Hah, hah, capital joke, young miss, but you couldn't possibly be,"
he sneered. "I mean, Mrs. Caldwell is one of the richest women in
Scotland by all accounts. How dare you presume to adopt her
identity! I have half a mind to whip you for your insolence, you
young hussy," he said more threateningly, lifting his cane.

 

 

Muireann dropped her woolens then, seeing red at the threat of
violence. She was damned if she was going to let Augustine's brute
of a cousin thrash her for telling the truth, or for rejecting his
unwelcome attentions.

 

 

Unthinkingly she grabbed the stick, and broke it in two over her
knee. She was grateful that all her outdoor work had toughened her
up, and anger had made her even stronger. She then flung the pieces
in his face and gathering her bundle, she marched to the cart,
stating, "That's what I think of your violence, sir. Cousin of
Augustine's or not, I want you to get off my land now, do you hear?"

 

 

Her fury was matched only by his own, as he shouted, "Look what
you've done to my cane!"

 

 

He advanced on her menacingly, grabbing her by the shoulders and
tearing her gown down the front as she struggled to get away.

 

 

 Just then, a rifle shot rang out. The dirt three inches from
Christopher's booted foot flew up into the air. Lochlainn slung the
rifle over his shoulder and cocked his pistol. "I'll give you one
second to unhand the lady before I shoot. And this time I'll kill
you, Christopher," Lochlainn declared coldly.

 

 

Muireann shook Christopher's hand off her and ran over to where
Lochlainn was standing.

 

 

"Are you all right?" he asked her softly.

 

 

"I'm fine. He thought I was a servant girl. He was pestering me,
that's all."

 

 

Lochlainn laughed sourly. "Bad mistake, Christopher. This is Mrs.
Caldwell, as I am sure she tried to tell you. Your charming manners
with ladies seem to have slipped since we last saw you around these
parts four years ago. To what do we owe the pleasure after all this
time?" Lochlainn drawled, still keeping his gun trained on
Christopher.

 

 

"Well, well, Lochlainn, old man. I would have thought after Tara
pulled up stakes and left with her whole family that you wouldn't
have wasted you time here any longer. But you always did have ideas
above your station. Playing Mrs. Caldwell's protector now, are we?
Looking after the beautiful young widow, eh?" he remarked
suggestively.

 

 

Muireann looked from one man to the other and saw the unmistakable
mutual hatred etched on their faces, glinting in their eyes.

 

 

"I think I've already told you, sir, that you're not welcome here.
I'll thank you to leave now, before my manager shoots you for
trespassing."

 

 

"Mrs. Caldwell, Muireann, if I may make so bold, surely you realize
it was an honest mistake. I didn't mean to catch you in the middle
of your cleaning or whatever other little chores you were doing in
that peasant's garb. I honestly meant no offense. I merely wanted to
meet you, to see if I could be of service, and invite you to tea."
Christopher smiled like a predator about to devour his prey.

 

 

"Where's your wife, then?" Lochlainn asked suddenly.

 

 

Christopher smirked. "I never married, actually."

 

 

"You bastard!" Lochlainn hissed.

 

 

Muireann could see his finger tightening on the pistol trigger.

 

 

She hastily grabbed at the weapon, and shoved it high into the air,
causing the bullet to wing a tree branch above Christopher's head.

 

 

"Now, now, Lochlainn, I'm not the bastard here, as you well know,"
Christopher mocked, before opening the door of his carriage and
scrambling in before Lochlainn could get time to reload.

 

 

Once safely inside, he instructed his driver to move on quickly, and
took off down the avenue, leaving nothing but a trail of dust
behind.

 

 

Lochlainn stood glaring at the carriage until long after it was out
of sight, and then straightened. He began to march away, but
Muireann pursued him. Clutching her torn gown to her bosom, she ran
after him.

 

 

"That was Christopher Caldwell?" she asked, her astonishment evident
in her tone.

 

 

"Yes, and the same as he ever was, more's the pity. You're lucky you
weren't hurt. But you should have let me shoot him. His presence
will only cause trouble for us. I can feel it in my bones. But at
least you've had fair warning not to trust him. You've seen for
yourself what he's really like."

 

 

"I could tell from the moment I glanced at him that he's a lecher,
but what I would really like to know is what all that hostility
between you is about!"

 

 

Lochlainn tried to duck down an avenue of trees.

 

 

Muireann charged after him and spun him round to face her. "Stop
running away from me, Lochlainn! I want the truth!"

 

 

"I don't want to discuss it with you or anyone else. It's private,
can't you see that?" he hissed, trying to shake her off.

 

 

"Not when you try to shoot visitors to my estate, it isn't!"
Muireann shouted back.

 

 

She tried to cling onto Lochlainn's arm, but he stormed off into the
wood so quickly it seemed pointless to try to follow him in the
growing darkness.

 

 

Muireann trailed into the kitchen thoughtfully. Seeing Sharon in
there on her own, stirring some stew every so often while the other
women were working digging up the onions and leeks in the kitchen
garden, she mentioned Christopher Caldwell's visit.

 

 

Then she declared, "I don't want to pry, but Christopher Caldwell
and Lochlainn seemed to hate each other. Can you tell me what
resentment there is between them?"

 

 

Sharon looked at the door warily, and whispered, "I probably
shouldn't tell, but you and Lochlainn seem to care about each other,
so I think you deserve to know. Christopher lured away Tara, the
girl Lochlainn was engaged to. One night they eloped, and soon after
that her family moved away and were never heard from again.
Lochlainn had been very close to them all. It was like losing his
whole family when they all left."

 

 

"Christopher said he had never married Tara. He must have seduced
the girl and then just abandoned her."

 

 

"Well, you'll forgive my saying so, but there wouldn't have been any
seduction in the case. Tara set her cap at Lochlainn. When a better
opportunity came along, she took it. Lochlainn was too blind to see
that. She was the only person he ever trusted, and she wasn't worthy
of that trust, though of course Lochlainn was so in love with her he
thought she was perfect," Sharon said with a twinge of disgust.

 

 

Then she looked at Muireann with something akin to horror. "You just
said Christopher was back. Are you all right? I mean, he didn't,
er-"

 

 

"He did, but I fended him off," Muireann admitted.

 

 

"Did Lochlainn see? Because he would have been furious."

 

 

"He was angry, right enough, but I think it's just because of their
old love rivalry," Muireann said with a sinking heart. Lochlainn is
still in love with Tara, has always been. Where does that leave me?

 

 

"You're looking worried. Or perhaps doubtful. I'm telling you,
Lochlainn does care for you. I've known him for years, and he's a
good man."

 

 

Muireann sighed. "Once we were close, but recently…"

 

 

Sharon said firmly, "I think this potato blight business has taken
its toll on you both. And Lochlainn is a proud man. With Christopher
turning up here, looking prosperous and as arrogant as a peacock, it
would have dredged up a lot of old memories."

 

 

"That's just it, though, Sharon. I feel like I simply don't know
Lochlainn sometimes. He never talks much about himself or the past."

 

 

"Well, neither do you," Sharon surprised her by replying. "We none
of us feel we know you, really know you, though we've worked with
you side by side for nearly a year."

 

 

Muireann shuddered. Her hand began to tremble so violently that
Sharon took it in her own.

 

 

"Whatever it is, Muireann, it can't be that bad."

 

 

Muireann stood up abruptly and put her hand on the latch of the
door. "I don't want to think about it, don't you see?"

 

 

She fled from the kitchen and ran out to the weaving workshop, where
she spun thread for the rest of the day without so much as five
minutes' rest. She tried to calm herself, but all the same,
Christopher Caldwell had reminded her of Augustine, and of her time
in Dublin. She knew his kind. She had met them before. They used
women for an hour or two of pleasure, no more.

 

 

When Christopher had grabbed her and torn her gown, she had detected
the same streak of cruelty which she had discovered in Augustine.
Why, why had he come here, now of all times, just when things were
the worst they had ever been?

 

 

Muireann tried to take command of her breathing, to force herself to
relax. She tried to view Christopher's arrival in a positive light.
It was true that he was odious and lecherous, but perhaps he was the
solution to her problems. As a cousin, he might want to help.
Perhaps she should consider his offer of friendship for the sake of
the estate? He might even be willing to buy it, and look after all
the people there, so that she could go home.

 

 

Lochlainn had said she didn't belong there. Perhaps he was right? Of
course, with the animosity between Lochlainn and Christopher, there
would be no question of Lochlainn remaining at Barnakilla as estate
manager. But that might be just the excuse she needed to get him to
come to Fintry with her. She was sure if her father met Lochlainn,
he couldn't fail to admire the man she had come to love beyond all
else.

 

 

Muireann became completely carried away by this fantasy life she
planned for herself and Lochlainn. But he never appeared in her room
that night. It was the first time for as long as she could remember
that they hadn't spent the night with each other.

 

 

Refusing to accept defeat, and willing to do anything to win the
heart of the man she loved, Muireann worked long into the night in
order to take some time off from her chores the next day, when she
would make the opening gambit in her bid to save Barnakilla from
utter ruin.

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

 

 

At about noon on the following day, a bright crisp Christmas Eve,
Muireann dressed carefully in her best sable velvet gown and saddled
her stallion Bran. She rode out to Christopher's estate to the south
of her own property. She was charm itself as Christopher greeted her
at the door with his crocodile smile.

 

 

"Please, I wanted to try to mend fences with you after yesterday."
She forced herself to smile up at him as he led her into the foyer,
a high-ceilinged affair with two graceful marble staircases curving
upwards to the second floor.

 

 

"Delighted, my dear, delighted," he said with a leer, clutching at
her arm possessively.

 

 

It took all of Muireann's strength of character to prevent herself
from jerking her hand away from Christopher as he practically
drooled all over it. She hesitantly accompanied him into the drawing
room, which was highly ornate, and covered from floor to ceiling
with nude paintings.

 

 

Muireann trembled inwardly. She had seen "art" like this before.
There had been plenty of it in the house in Dublin.

 

 

Muireann tried to keep her tone neutral as she avoided looking at
the loathsome paintings by mentioning all that had happened to her
since Augustine had died. She praised all the workers highly, making
them seem like a genuine asset, which to her mind, they were.

 

 

His blue eyes seemed to stab into her very soul, trying to lay bare
her secrets. Finally, when he still said nothing, merely kept
staring at her, she remarked, "But I suppose I'm boring you with all
this talk of my little enterprises."

 

 

"No, on the contrary, I'm very interested in the estate," he said
with a gleam in his eye which Muireann misunderstood completely.
"All that you've been telling me is most interesting. I know your
estate manager would be unwilling to do it, but do you suppose you
could give me a tour of Barnakilla right now, to show me how much
splendid work you've done?"

 

 

"Well, yes, of course." She smiled, delighted with how easy it all
seemed to be. Even if the paperwork took some time to go through,
she and Lochlainn could still go back to Fintry together soon if
Christopher were willing to commit himself this afternoon to buying
the estate.