Kilpara (30 page)

Read Kilpara Online

Authors: Patricia Hopper

Tags: #irish american fiction, #irishenglish romance, #irish emigrants, #ireland history fiction, #victorian era historical fiction

BOOK: Kilpara
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I stared at Gully. “Go on,” he motioned. “Do
ye want to talk to her or not?”

I scribbled some lines with Gully peering over
my shoulder. “Better keep that hand steady,” he instructed. “Your
penmanship must be flawless if you’re to impress the beautiful Miss
Morrigan.”

 

I awoke the next morning with a splitting
headache. I was sure I had done something important, but I couldn’t
remember what it was. All day, I received long stares. No one said
anything, but there were lots of sniffs and face-making. That
evening, a novice came to me in my room where things were finally
settling down to some order.


Gully Joyce wants to see you in
the stables,” she said. “He says it’s urgent.”

My immediate concern was Brazonhead but
walking toward the stables everything came back to me. Gully had
given me something to drink. I had poured out my heart to him about
Morrigan. Together, we had written some kind of note. I remembered
only pieces of what it said. One thing I was sure of, I'd managed
to make a bad situation worse. If that was possible.


Here’s your reply,” Gully said,
when I entered the stables. He ran the envelope past his
nose.


Reply?” I stared at him,
uncomprehending.


To the letter ye wrote to Miss
Morrigan last night.”


She answered it?”


Indeed she did.”


You’re sure?”


It’s right here.”

Gully waved the envelope in front of me and
there was mischief in his eyes. “Can’t hold your drink can ye, lad?
Even if I say so meself, the note ye wrote to the lady last night,
with my help, of course, was very much from the heart. And I got
her to write back to ye.”


Give me that.” I grabbed the
envelope out of his hand and tore it open searching my mind for the
words I might have written.


Testy, testy,” he said, trying to
peek over my shoulder.

Mr. O’Donovan, the note read. (She underlined
O’Donovan three times in red ink).

I treasured our friendship, but that was
before I learned of your intention to steal Kilpara away from my
father and me through deviant means. Please know that I feel
betrayed by your actions and consider you no longer my
friend.

I was also shocked by your brutal behavior
yesterday. Sir Charles Sloane is a refined gentleman who would
never strike another human being even when provoked. You, on the
other hand, behaved in an uncivilized manner. He is extremely
shaken from your blow. You are very fortunate he will not be
pressing charges. I will grant your request to meet, but for one
reason only, and that is so you may see for yourself the depth of
my anger. After that, I expect you to leave my father and me alone,
and it is my fervent hope we will never see you again. Ever. Meet
me on the strand tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m.

M. Purcenell

P.S. I do not wish to meet you at Kilpara
because the very mention of your name distresses my
father.

I stared at the note. “She’s really angry,”
Gully said with conviction. “Maybe ye should ask Mother Superior to
pray that she gets over it.” I looked at him. He shrugged. “What’re
ye going to do? Ye can’t talk to women when they’re angry. They
won’t talk back—usually.”

He watched on curiously as I reread the note.
Morrigan’s words flew off the page like daggers, each one striking
its target. Blood rushed to my temples and I kicked the wooden gate
of an empty stall. “Deviant means, huh?” I shouted. “I never stole
Kilpara from her father. I won it fair and square, and I’m entitled
to it. Her family isn’t so pure. They took advantage of my
grandparents’ desperation years ago.”


True, but that’s not how she sees
it,” Gully offered.


Whose side are you on?”


Yours. All of Brandubh wants to
see the O’Donovans back at Kilpara, except the Purcenells, that
is.”

I slammed the palm of my hand against the
wooden gate. “How can I convince her it's not the way she
thinks?”


Ye can’t. Women have to know these
things for themselves.”


I can see why you never married,
Gully Joyce.”


Thank God. The woman hasn’t been
created yet that can catch me. The very thought of a woman’s
clutches gives me the shivers.” He scratched around inside the
empty stall and came up with a jug. “Care to drink
t’that?”


No,” I said. “One miserable
hangover is enough.”


I’ll drink for both of us
then.”

 

I was restless that night, waking several
times. At the first sign of dawn, I saddled Brazonhead and rode to
the beach. It was hours yet till our meeting and I paced up and
down the cobbled strand, unable to stay still very long. Each time
I paused, I pulled Morrigan's letter out of my pocket and reread
it. I tried to compose in my head what I would say to her, but it
was hopeless. I couldn't focus. Eventually, I mounted Brazonhead
and rode across the fields toward Kilpara. We arrived at the
gatehouse long before Purcenell’s carriage was due to leave. The
gatekeeper took one look at me and wordlessly led Brazonhead away
to graze. Then he returned with a strong mug of tea and handed it
to me where I sat under a tree to wait.

After what seemed like an age, the carriage
rumbled down the avenue. It stopped at the gatehouse. I climbed up
beside the surprised groom who looked to the gatekeeper for
explanation. The gatekeeper introduced me and ordered the groom to
obey my instructions. The groom raised his cap and nodded his
compliance. We left Kilpara in the direction of Galway passing over
a small bridge where the Kilpara River ran beneath. I ordered the
groom to stop.


Why are we stopping?” Morrigan
asked from inside the carriage.

I opened the door and offered her my
hand.

She gasped. “You!”

I flinched at the anger in her voice and the
cold stare in her eyes. “Walk with me awhile,” I pleaded. I tried
to form the words in my mind that would convince her I never meant
to hurt her. But from the coldness in her eyes, it was clear my
words would be wasted.

She refused my hand, and picking up her
skirts, she dismounted. She walked ahead of me in silence for
several minutes. When we came to where the stream rippled down over
a small bank, Morrigan stopped and turned to look at me.


You deceived me,” she said, her
eyes boring into mine. “You lied about who you really are. To
everyone. You came over from America to avenge your family and
destroy my father.”


That’s not true,” I said, wanting
to touch her, but stepping back instead. “I didn’t lie. Not
exactly. Admittedly, I never told you my name was O’Donovan. But I
never came here to avenge or destroy anyone. My sole purpose was to
gain permission to bury my mother at Kilpara, our family's
ancestral home. It’s the reason she came back to Ireland. My Aunt
Sadie, the Mother Superior at St. Bridget's Convent, asked your
father’s consent, but he refused. It seemed hopeless that he would
ever change his mind. When the opportunity presented itself to race
against him for Kilpara, I took that chance. But I never intended
to keep the property. I always meant to return it to your father
and you. I swear.”


You used me,” Morrigan replied
heatedly. “You pretended to be my friend so you could extract
information for your own gain. You’re ruthless.”


Judge me guilty of deception if
you wish, but I’m not ruthless. My fault lies in compassion for my
mother’s desire to be laid to rest among O’Donovans at Kilpara and
yearnings she and my father harbored all those years in America
that they would one day return to their homeland. Is such a small
favor too much to ask of your father?”

Morrigan dropped her eyes to look down at her
hands, then over at the rippling water. “I don't believe my father
would callously deny your mother her wish to be buried in the
O’Donovan graveyard.”


Believe it. He laughed in my Aunt
Sadie’s face when she asked him.”

She looked at me fully. “You don’t know the
ways of the people here. He would’ve been suspicious of such an
appeal. Even from a nun. He would’ve thought it was some kind of
Irish posturing.”


Not a nun, for God’s
sake.”


She may be a nun, but she’s
foremost Irish and a Catholic. Neither; my father would readily
trust.”


Would you have considered her
plea?”


I am not responsible for of such
matters. My father would think deeply before conceding to your
aunt’s request. He can’t show vulnerability before his tenants.
There are Irish insurgents among them.”


Now, that’s
preposterous.”


It’s reality.”


If he showed kindness toward
former emigrant Irish landlords, surely it would ingratiate his
tenants.”


On the contrary.”


Look,” I said, unable to follow
this reasoning. “I don’t intend to take Kilpara from you or your
father. Surely, that deserves some forgiveness.”


You want us to feel indebted to
you?” Her voice was hard. Its coldness tore at my heart.


No—”


We don’t want your favors. If you
hand Kilpara back to Father, he’ll look the fool among his peers.
You’ve destroyed his pride and reputation. You’ve made him a
laughing stock.”

I bristled. “It was a fair and legal
contest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “One that you manipulated
to achieve your goal. You destroyed my father, you tricked him. But
not for long. Charles has asked me to marry him. My father will
continue to live at Kilpara.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You think
marrying Sloane will restore your father’s pride?”


Charles will offer you more than a
fair price for Kilpara and then return the property to my father as
a wedding gift.”


And that’s better than my
offer?”


It won’t be a favor. It’ll be a
gift from my betrothed.”


Your father will never bow down to
Sloane. He’s too stubborn for that.”


For my sake, Charles will conceal
the details in such a way that Father’s dignity will remain
intact.”


Can't you see what Sloane’s doing?
He's bargaining marriage in exchange for Kilpara. I'm offering to
give you back Kilpara—for nothing. You don't have to accept his
proposal. Do you love him?”


That’s not the point.” Her voice
wavered. “My father grossly underestimated the risk he took when he
agreed to race you at Ballybrit. He never dreamt he’d be defeated.
He’s been ill since that day.”


He entered the race with the same
foresight I did,” I argued. “Kilpara means as much to my mother as
it does to you and your father. Surely you can see why her dying
wish should be honored.”


Even if I agree, you’re aware my
family has owned Kilpara for a generation now, and in my father’s
view—”


Your grandfather bought it for a
pittance.”


The O’Donovans accepted his
offer.”


They had no choice. The Crown had
the upper hand. Think back to what you said when I told you about
the white man taking land away from the native Indians.” I rubbed
my forehead trying to recall her exact words. “Ah yes, it was ‘to
capture one’s freedom and one’s land is to steal one’s heart and
soul.’ That’s what your grandfather did to my family when he bought
Kilpara for a fraction of its worth. He stole the heart and soul of
the O’Donovans..”

She winced then looked away. When she turned
back she stared straight through me.


It’s insidious to blame my family
for this country’s political woes or your family’s
misfortunes.”


What do you know about my
family?”


Nothing.”


You must know they built Kilpara.
Owned it for three hundred years, a lot longer than one generation
I’d say. You’d think under the circumstances your father would
honor a small favor from a family with such a long
history.”


You may consider my father’s
actions unjust, but it doesn’t excuse what you did.”


I never intended to own
Kilpara.”


Well, Mr. O’Donovan you do own it.
But my father will never let you have it. You’ll receive a fair
price from Charles.”

I waved my hands in exasperation, slapping at
the wind. “Look, I don’t give a damn about Charles Sloane or your
father’s pride and dignity. My concern is my mother. Once this
matter is over I’ll be leaving.”


For America,” Morrigan
finished.

I moved closer. “Do you want to marry
Sloane?”


Yes.”

I felt myself reeling out of control. The
coldness mixed with disappointment in her eyes was like an icy hand
reaching inside my heart. I wanted to bring back their warmth, the
smile that affected my every mood. I wanted to feel her hands
entwined in mine, to see trust in her face again. Frustration made
me reckless. I cupped her face in my hands and bent close. She
didn’t flinch or move, just continued to stare back with her cold
gaze. I let my hands caress her cheeks briefly and then dropped
them.

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