Legacy of Secrets (19 page)

She asked William what time his lesson was, and the next morning she was there before him. Finn was in Punch’s stall, preparing him for the ride.

“It’s like old times, isn’t it, Finn?” she said, leaning across the stable door, smiling beguilingly at him.

“I don’t know what y’mean, me lady,” he said.

His voice was so cold she could have skated on the ice of it. “Sure and y’do,” she said anxiously. “The two of us riding at dawn along the shore. Nothing there, just you and me and the seabirds.”

He refused to look at her, tightening the girth and checking the bit. Anything rather than meet her treacherous eyes.

“I’m sorry, Finn, if I’ve hurt you. Truly sorry. But you see, it was you or me. Pa would have sent me away to school in England if he knew I had anything to do with Ciel’s fall. We would never have seen each other again.”

“All I know is it was my job was lost,” he said tersely, brushing past her into the yard. “It was my livelihood you were playin’ with.
My
job,
my
earnings, food in
my
belly. Not yours, miss high-and-mighty Lady Lily.”

Lily stared at him, shocked. She hadn’t realized what it would mean to him … that he might even have to go without food. She had thought it was only a temporary
thing, that when her father calmed down she would easily get him reinstated.

“Oh, Finn,” she said shakily, “I truly didn’t realize what I had done. I thought it was just for a few weeks, and then I would talk Pa back into making you my groom again. I didn’t even consider what it meant to you.” She hung her head, twisting her hands together in an agony of remorse.

“I’ll go right now to Pa. I’ll tell him what a terrible thing I’ve done. I shall confess it was all my fault, and tell him he must reinstate you right away. Oh, God, I just know you’ll never forgive me. Never. And you will be right.”

Turning quickly, she ran across the cobbled yard. Finn ran after her and grabbed her by the shoulder. He stared into her face, into her brimming dark eyes, all their brilliance lost in her despair.

“You would do it, sure enough,” he said, amazed. “Y’d go to your fayther and confess to the crime just to get me my job back.”

“Of course I would. And I am. Right now.” She twisted from his grasp and ran under the stone arch. He caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm again.

“Ye don’t have to do this for me, Lily. It’s enough to know you wanted to. I’ll take the blame for young Ciel, and it was partly my fault anyways. I was in charge of her and I should have stopped you from smacking her pony.”

She smiled tremulously at him and he gazed adoringly back at her, completely forgetting that she was to blame and that it was not his fault at all.

“Then are we friends again?” she said.

“Friends.” He nodded.

“And I can come along with you and William on the ride?”

He hesitated. “It’s concentration he’ll be needin’, Lily. And y’know well enough there’s nobody can concentrate with yerself around, plotting yer mischief.”

“No mischief,” she promised, gazing up at him through her lashes. “I just want to be with you.” She added softly, “I’ve missed you so, Finn. You are my
best
friend. Don’t we
always tell each other everything? Things we would never say to another person, not even Ciel or Daniel. About how we feel and what we wish and … oh, all our secrets?”

The sparkle jumped back into Finn’s deadened eyes as his spirits soared. “Sure, and we’re friends again. But mind y’behaves yerself, Lily, I’ll not be responsible for another accident.”

“They really wanted to send me away to school in England,” Lily said, flirting with him with her eyes, “but I refused. I stamped my foot and told them I would not leave Ardnavarna. Never, no matter what they did. They could drag me from here screaming and I’d just run away and somehow find my way home again, the way lost animals do. Oh, Finn, how could I ever leave Ardnavarna? How could I ever leave my horses and my dogs, and the sea and the woods, and oh … all the beautiful things I love about this place? And how could I leave my friend?” she added, meeting his eyes solemnly.

He looked at her, saying nothing. He knew exactly how she felt and Lily knew that he knew. There were moments when they were as attuned as twins, each thinking the other’s thoughts almost before they had thought them themselves.

“Race you to the end of the strand,” she called, running to the yard and leaping onto her bay mare, held by the waiting groom.

“I can’t be doin’ that, Lily,” Finn said seriously. “I’ll be spendin’ all me time with Lord William. On the instructions of your fayther.”

“Oh.
William.”
Disappointed, she stared at him. “Well then, I’ll just ride along behind you. And I promise and promise I will not be any trouble at all.”

He thought exasperatedly that of course she would be, but she was the mistress and he was the servant and he could not forbid her, best friends or not. But he still did not trust her to keep her word.

William walked under the archway, reluctance in every slow step he took across the yard to where Finn stood,
holding Punch. “Good morning, Lord William,” Finn said, a sigh in his voice as he looked at him. “We’re after making a grand horseman of ye. Just keep that in mind, sir, and y’ll do fine.”

William glanced suspiciously at Lily. “What are
you
doing here?” he demanded as he clambered laboriously onto the horse.

“I’m coming along to help.” Lily’s mare suddenly skittered sideways over the cobbles and she laughed as William’s mount reared nervously and he clung desperately on.

“That’ll be enough of that, Lady Lily,” Finn shouted authoritatively. “Right, sir,” he said to William. “I’ll ride alongside you. If you would only straighten your back and grip with your knees, sir, and your thighs. All horsework is in the legs, and that’s where you need the strength. Now, come on, sir, a straight back, a loose rein, and a good firm leg. That’s all it takes to master a horse.”

“And letting it know who’s boss,” Lily called mockingly, leading the way out of the yard to the bridle path.

William gritted his teeth. “One month,” he said grimly. “Just four weeks, Finn?”

“Four weeks, sir. And that’s a promise.”

Lily cantered ahead, turning every now and then to look back at her brother trotting unevenly along, completely out of rhythm with his horse. She turned and trotted back toward them. “Like this,” she called, showing him how easily it was done. “Don’t be such a ninny, William. It’s only a horse.” Finn shot her a wary glance. “Oh, he’s just so
slow,”
she said impatiently.

An hour’s boredom lay ahead of her like a yawn, so giving her mare a switch with her crop, she set off at a mad gallop through the green avenue of trees toward the rocky path to the beach. Waves pounded the shore, the sunlight turned the spray into a glittering rainbow, and the wind tugged at her hair. It was a glorious day.

“Oh, dammit, dammit,” she shouted angrily, turning her mare and galloping back again to collect Finn. The day was
so wonderful, they should be racing along the strand together instead of fussing with silly old William, who would never make a horseman even if his life depended on it.

She galloped toward them, ducking low in the saddle to avoid the overhanging branches, eager to hurry Finn for their ride. He saw her coming and so did William’s horse, Punch. It stopped dead in its tracks, then with a whinny of fear it reared up, dancing on its hind legs like a circus pony. Then it suddenly pounded down hard on its front legs and bucked William off, prancing up and down, whinnying with terror, its hooves dangerously close to his head.

Finn was off his mount in a flash. Shouting curses he grabbed the horse’s reins, and calmed it with a few words. He tethered it to a tree and looked down at William, lying stunned on the grass, and then up at Lily, still on her horse, circling self-consciously around them. “You bloody little fool,” he yelled angrily. “Don’t you ever think about what yer doin’?”

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she asked anxiously, her face as white as her brother’s.

“No thanks to you I’m not,” William said, sitting up and rubbing his head.

“The horse might have trampled him to death and you know it,” Finn said ferociously. “Now will ye be away? And only thank your lucky stars I’ll not be tellin’ your fayther this time. Just stay away from me and Lord William, that’s all.”

Lily stared blankly at him for a second and then without a word she turned and galloped off. Finn looked anxiously at William still sitting on the grass, rubbing the back of his head. “That sister of yours’ll be a terror, sir,” he said, helping him to his feet.

“More than that,” William retorted. “She’s a menace. How she gets away with what she does is beyond me. Except, I suppose, she never really means any harm.” He glanced ruefully at Finn. “Anyway, Finn, that’s the end of me and horses. I’ve had enough.”

Finn thought of Lord Molyneux and the orders he had
given him to turn his son into a competent horseman…. “The only reason I’m not dismissing you,” he had said, “was because of your work with my son.” He knew if he failed in his duty now, this time Lord Molyneux would surely dismiss him.

“I’ve got to teach you, sir,” he said angrily. “Your fayther will flay me alive if I don’t. Or worse, he’ll sack me.

They stared at each other and William saw the fear of the poor in Finn’s eyes. The fear of no job, no wages, no food in his belly. William was his father’s son; the concept of duty had been bred in him and he knew where that duty lay now. He sighed. “Very well then, Finn, a horseman I shall become.”

Finn sagged with relief. He knew what it had cost William to say that, after such a dangerous fall. His face shone with admiration as he helped him remount. “I’ll look after y’sir,” he promised. “I’ll see you niver have to fear another horse in your life again.”

L
ILY STUDIOUSLY AVOIDED
being anywhere near the stables when her brother was with Finn. She would lurk around the house and as soon as she saw William walking wearily across the hall, mud-spattered from yet another long cold rainy morning in the saddle, she was at the stable yard in a flash.

“My turn,” she would say laughingly to Finn, and they would be off through the woods, oblivious of the rain and wind, happy just to be together.

At the end of the four weeks Lord Molyneux came to inspect William’s progress. He watched his son with hawklike eyes, looking for faults, but William sat properly upright in the saddle, his jacket neatly buttoned, his hat firmly on his head, and a look of grim resignation on his face.

“The boy has done well,” Lord Molyneux said approvingly to Finn, watching as his son crouched low in the saddle to take a hedge and then galloped off across the fields. “I would never have thought it possible.” He looked appreciatively
at Finn, mounted on a black hunter beside him. “I have you to thank for that,” he said, a touch of warmth creeping into his voice. “Because despite your other failings, Finn O’Keeffe, you are indeed a fine horseman.”

“You may resume your old duties as groom to my children as of today. And there will be an appropriate increase in pay to take into account your good work. Speak to the comptroller about it later.”

He looked severely at Finn. “And let this be a lesson to you, my boy. Always concentrate on what you are doing. I am trusting my children to you. You are responsible for them. Never—I repeat, never—take your eyes off them. And if anything happens to any one of them I’ll have you strung from the nearest tree.”

T
WO DAYS LATER
the dozens of trunks and boxes were packed; the lady’s maid, the governess, and his Lordship’s valet were sent on ahead, and the family prepared to leave for their usual sojourn in Dublin.

The staff lined up as they always did to see them go, and Finn’s heart was in his boots as he watched the gleaming bottle-green carriages set off briskly down the mile-long gravel driveway. He peered after them, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight. He thought he saw Lily turn her head to look at him as they passed and he raised his hand in a sad farewell.

But it wasn’t only Finn that Lily turned to look at. It was Ardnavarna. The blue-and-gold standard that flew over the Big House had already been lowered, signifying the family was no longer in residence; the sun glinted from its numerous windows and its massive stone walls looked as though they would stand for all time.

With a sigh of happiness she turned her head away, thinking excitedly of Dublin and the parties and the new dresses and all the treats in store for her, with never a thought for her best friend, Finn O’Keeffe.

F
OR
L
ILY, IT WAS ALWAYS
a case of “out of sight, out of mind.” Finn belonged to Ardnavarna and when she was away, she scarcely gave him a passing thought. But it was all very different for Finn. He thought Lily Molyneux was the most beautiful girl in the world. She lived in his dreams and in his heart. She was a part of him. Quite suddenly, when he was sixteen and no longer just a lad, he fell passionately in love with her. And then everything changed between them.

Little Ciel was nine years old when Lily was sixteen. William was away at school in England most of the time and the two girls muddled along at home with their succession of harassed governesses. They learned to speak French and went several times to Paris so that they might have a chance to perfect their accent. They acquired a modicum of history and geography and they read whatever books were in their library. They could play the piano well enough, Lily better than Ciel, and they could sing a pretty song for their guests’ entertainment after dinner in the grand drawing room. They played tennis and croquet and were demons on the hunting field. They were friends with royalty and nobility and shared their parents’ wide social life in Dublin and London, as well as at the shooting and fishing parties their parents often hosted.