Ashes and Ecstasy

by Catherine Hart

  “The people I hid with did not know who I was, or they would have been tempted to turn me in for the reward. They were extremely poor, and had many mouths to feed. Josepha returned every week to see how I was doing, but even the small weekly basket of food she brought was insufficient for our needs, and I soon learned to beg on the streets with the others. We would raid the garbage pails of inns and taverns for scraps. Almost immediately, I traded my dress for boy’s clothing and cap. It was much safer to be a boy on those filthy streets than a young girl."

  “Was Josepha the old woman who talked with us in the carriage?” Reed questioned.

  Isabel nodded, but did not look up. “It seemed a miracle when she told me you were here. I had nearly given up hope of finding a way out of Spain. I feared I was doomed to live in squalor and hunger until I either starved to death or was eventually caught. The taste of fear was more common than that of food on my tongue.”

  “Considering the condition you arrived in, that is easy to believe,” Reed mumbled, shaking his head at her incredible story.

  A look passed between Reed and Kathleen of instant communication and understanding. Kathleen voiced their mutual thoughts. “Isabel, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish. If you want, you can come with us when we return to Savannah. There will be an entire ocean between you and Spain. You can feel safe there, and build your life anew, forgetting all the abuse and laying to rest all the awful memories.”

  Sobs shook Isabel’s frail frame as she huddled in Kathleen’s embrace. “There are no words to express my gratitude! I know you must be shocked and disgusted, yet you still offer your help. I will repay you somehow; this I promise. I will work for you. I will scrub and clean for you, and help with the children,” she babbled.

  “No,” Kathleen answered firmly.

  A stricken look made Isabel's features dissolve anew. “I do not blame you. Who would want a murderess caring for their children?” she choked.

  “It is not that, Isabel,” Reed corrected gently, taking her thin hand in his own and kissing it gallantly. “Kathleen is saying that you will not be a servant in our home. You will live with us because we are your friends and we want you there. We will be your family.”

  “You would do this for a friend of Kathleen’s? A confessed murderess? Someone you barely know?” Isabel was incredulous.

  “I would do this for Kathleen’s friend, yes,” Reed concurred, “and also for a young woman who has been severely mistreated; who brought none of her problems upon herself, but took the only course open to her. You did what you had to, Isabel, and now you are free; free to forget the past and build a better life in a new land; free to seek the happiness you deserve.”

  Kathleen hugged the frail girl to her. “Welcome to the family, Isabel.”

  Because of the increasing unrest between England and the United States, Reed did not think it wise to advertise the arrival of an American vessel in Ireland. Thus, Kathleen suggested they sail the Kat-Ann around to a little-used cove near the rear of her estate. It was close, convenient, and private.

  Reed was astounded when they finally arrived. The house was immense, of solid, rough-hewn grey stone, and the dimensions of it dwarfed Chimera, their plantation home. The surrounding land which was not wooded, was tilled and planted, with small, neat crofter’s cottages dotted here and there.

  “My God, Kathleen! Is all this land yours?” he gasped.

  She nodded, her brilliant green eyes matching the Irish landscape.

  “Aye, ’tis indeed.” How easily that familiar Irish brogue came back to her tongue!

  “And the house!” Reed exclaimed. “The blasted thing is a castle!”

  “Nay, actually it is thirteen rooms shy of being classified as an authentic castle.”

  Reed laughed. “So what is it then, a castlette?”

  “No, it’s merely a mansion,” Kathleen chuckled in return.

  “Well, whatever it is called, I must admit I am impressed. And I thought you would be so awed by Chimera!” He laughed again. “You could put Chimera inside this mansion and have room enough left over for your Aunt Barbara’s house, too!”

  “Now, Reed, you know how much I love Chimera. There isn’t a plantation to compare with it anywhere near Savannah. The house is large and airy, the architecture is absolutely beautiful, and the rooms are lavish, yet tastefully designed.”

  “Still,” he argued, “it is nothing like this.”

  “Thank your lucky stars, you befuddled sea captain!” she teased, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “Do you realize how cold and drafty this old place is in the winter? The fireplaces barely lessen the chill; mostly they throw smoke back into the rooms. The stone floors are like ice. There is no way to keep a home this size as clean as you’d like, so most of the rooms are closed off, and only aired when company comes. Nanna used to let me lead the spider brigade each year during spring cleaning!

  “Everything smells musty. And you’ll notice the lack of windows compared to the newer houses you are used to. Many of these big old places were used as fortresses at one time or another. What windows there are were small and placed high in the walls. They let very little light into the rooms, even on a bright, sunny day, so the entire house is in perpetual gloom. It is very depressing at times.”

  Reed gazed down at her tenderly. “Yet you still love it.”

  Kathleen swallowed the lump in her throat as she let her eyes roam over her ancestral home for the first time in four years. “Yes, I still love it. I wish Grandmother Kate had come back with us! I know she still misses Ireland even after all these years.”

  Reed’s arm stole about her waist. “Perhaps it holds some painful memories, Kat. When I asked her to come with us, she was very staunch in her refusal, saying she preferred to remember it as she last saw it. Also, she told me that one cannot hold onto the past if one intends to take a firm grasp on the future.”

  Kathleen thought about her grandmother’s words. “Kate is a very wise lady,” she concluded, with a faint smile.

  The last few days of June slipped into July, but no one noticed. They were all too busy. In addition to purchasing Irish whiskey, lace, and linen to take home, Reed was overseeing the estate. The crops were doing very well this year, from barley to potatoes. He and Kathleen were well pleased when they went over the books with her solicitor, Mr. Kirby. The livestock were thriving, and it seemed that more than the usual number of kids and lambs had been born this spring as well as new foals and several calves.

  The biggest problem was the mansion itself. The house had been run by a minimal staff during Kathleen’s protracted absence, so most of the rooms had been closed off for the past four years and were smothered in dust and mildew. Many of the draperies and carpets were irreparably ruined by moisture and mold, as were a few tapestries, most of the mattresses, and upholstered chairs.

  When Kathleen had departed four years previously, she had taken very little with her on her journey. Now she had the chore of sorting through and packing those items she wished to take back to Chimera. There was the family silver, of course, and the china and crystal, and Mr. Kirby had held most of her mother and father’s jewelry for her. Now he brought them from his bank vault and returned them to her.

  There were also portraits, family heirlooms, and long-forgotten mementos of Kathleen’s youth. What clothing she’d left in chests and wardrobes were now either outgrown or outdated. These, along with those of her father’s which she had not had time to sort through before, she donated to her tenant farmers and their families.

  Reed and Kathleen visited the crofters and were pleased to find that Mr. Kirby had seen that the cottages were kept in good repair. Most were freshly whitewashed, with thrifty garden plots on small, well-kept lots. Many had small sheds in which to house a cow or goats and a few chickens. Compared to most, Kathleen’s tenants were very well looked after, and she was both glad and proud, for she loved her homeland and its people.

  In addition to the tenant familie
s, many of Kathleen’s former neighbors and friends came to call. Word had spread of her marriage to an American and many of their visitors were surprised that Reed was not the uncouth backwoodsman they’d envisioned. They were fascinated by his deep Southern drawl, and Reed in turn was amused by their thick Irish brogue.

  They’d been there nearly a month, when one late afternoon found Reed and Kathleen on the vast front lawn, staring thoughtfully up at the slate roof. Most of their work had been tended to, and they were now preparing for their return journey to Savannah.

  “What do you think, Reed?” Kathleen queried, shading her eyes with her hand. “Can we just patch the leaky spots and get by with that?”

  Reed looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Kat. I should get a couple of men and go up and take a good look at it. My guess is, it is in worse repair than we know. A few leaks can be patched until next year, but the entire roof should be inspected closely just to be sure. This may be a major project, and it should be done right if it’s done at all.”

  “Drat! I was looking forward to going home, Reed. Even if we leave by the end of the week, it will still be mid-September at the soonest before we reach Georgia.” Reed’s grin was triumphant, his teeth flashing white in his deeply tanned face. “You’re homesick!” he gloated. “My little Irish rose has thrust her roots deeply into that rich Georgian soil, and now she misses it!”

  Wrinkling her nose at him, Kathleen pushed a slim finger at his chest. “Listen to me, you Yankee upstart. First of all, I am anything but little! Just because you cast a shadow longer than most trees hereabouts, is no reason to jeer at me. Furthermore ...”

  “Hereabouts? Hereabouts?” Reed drawled with a hooting laugh. “Honey, you sound more Georgian every time you open your mouth!”

  She ignored his interruption. “Furthermore,” she repeated, “I would not compare myself to a rose, Irish or otherwise. A rose is weak and fragile and ...”

  “And beautiful and soft,” he interjected, “which you are, even when you are scratching me with your thorns. A rose is also intricate, and delicate, and extremely fragrant,” he added, nuzzling his nose in her neck.

  Kathleen gave a shiver of delight as his warm breath raised goose bumps on her skin. “Fine. I’ll concede to the rose concept, if you will admit I’m not little.”

  His warm hand curved to cradle her breast. “Agreed,” he chuckled.

  Kathleen swatted at him and hid her smile. “Crazy man!”

  “Crazy about you, my sweet Irish rose,” he teased. Kathleen leveled a warning look at him. “Speaking of flowers, Kate wanted me to bring back an arbutus shrub for her, and a start of that mint growing by the spring-house, and a few strawberry plants if I can. I’d nearly forgotten. Remind me to dig them up just before we leave.”

  “I’ll try to remember,” Reed promised.

  Kathleen looked back at the roof with a grimace. “How long will that job delay us?”

  “I think, if I can find a few reliable men, that we can still leave soon. If Kirby will keep an eye on the repairs, there is no reason we have to stay. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  Kathleen squinted her eyes in the direction of a rapidly approaching coach. “You can speak to him sooner than you think. If I’m not mistaken, that is his carriage barreling down the drive.”

  “I wonder why he is in such a hurry?” Reed mused.

  Kirby met them halfway across the lawn. The first indication that something was wrong came as Kathleen noted that his usually impeccable appearance was quite ruffled. “Mr. Kirby, is something wrong? First you come tearing up the drive hell bent on destruction, and now you look as if your best hunter broke a leg,” she said.

  Kirby’s thin lips compressed even further, and he looked from Kathleen to Reed in obvious discomfort. He cleared his throat nervously. “There is no easy way to say this. We have just received word from London that on June eighteenth, President Madison of the United States formally declared war on Great Britain.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. “That was over a month ago!” Kathleen exclaimed.

  At the same time, Reed cursed, “Damn! I wanted to be home before it happened.”

  “You know how slowly news travels from overseas. We just got the word today, and I rushed right out to tell you. They say President Madison is also issuing privateering commissions against England,” said Kirby.

  Reed ground his teeth in impatient frustration. “And I have eight ships that cannot be used until I get home!”

  “We have eight ships,” Kathleen corrected, “and we must get them back to port and authorized as privateers as soon as possible.”

  Reed grabbed Kathleen by the shoulders, his blue eyes ablaze. “We must head for Savannah immediately, Kat!”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed. “Ask Mr. Kirby about the roof while I inform the others.” She started toward the house.

  “Wait!” Mr. Kirby exclaimed excitedly. His face reflected despair as he said more quietly, “There is more.”

  “More bad news?” Reed guessed.

  Kirby nodded. “Two days after King George received the declaration of war, he, in a fit of rage, declared that all British properties now held by Americans are now revoked. The same courier brought both announcements today.”

  Kathleen stood rooted to the spot at this information. Slowly the blood drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale. Her eyes sought Kirby’s for confirmation. “And my estate has legally belonged to Reed for the past four years,” she rasped.

  “And I am an American,” Reed added.

  “Yes,” Kirby confirmed.

  “But this is not an estate awarded by favor of the King,” Kathleen reminded him hopefully. “It has belonged to my mother’s family for years, and I am her heir also.”

  Kirby shook his head sadly. “It doesn’t apply here, Kathleen. Your mother, being Catholic, would have forfeited the land if your father had not happened along just then. When they married, the property became his through marriage, yes, but only because he was Protestant. Had he been Catholic, the property would have been lost.”

  “My father was also a lord,” Kathleen argued, “and I inherited the title.”

  Kirby sighed. “It has now been rescinded by order of the King. All British subjects married to Americans and living in the United States have been divested of their titles and lands."

  “Is there no way to reverse the decision?” Kathleen asked.

  “Only if you and Reed swear allegiance to the British crown, give up your holdings in America, and live here.”

  “Never!” Reed shouted. “Not in a million years!”

  Kathleen rejected Kirby’s words as well. “No. There is no way we would do that. I’d never ask it of my husband, not even to save my lands. I’d hold little respect for him if he had agreed.”

  Reed’s arms enfolded her, his thoughts now entirely on her loss. “Kat, I’m so sorry.”

  Twin emerald pools shimmering with tears gazed up at him. “I guess I’ve always been more Irish than English, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that pompous idiot dictate to me from his throne! My children are American, and so am I now. Let him have the estate, but it will be a hollow victory if I have my way.”

  Squaring her small shoulders, she directed a question to the barrister. “Mr. Kirby, do you have any indication who the new owner of this property might be?”

  The poor man flinched openly as he told her. “Sir Lawrence Ellerby.”

  Kathleen teetered as if hit by a blow. “Larry Ellerby! ” she shrieked. “That imbecile couldn’t run a one-horse farm, let alone an estate of this size! He’ll ruin it within weeks!”

  “I know,” Kirby agreed readily. “He’s done just that in the last six years with both the inheritance his grandfather left him and the lands willed to him on his father’s death. He’s a notorious Jonah when it comes to property. The man can take an estate worth a fortune and within months, he’s bankrupt again.”

  “He’s not a Jonah,” Kathlee
n corrected indignantly. “He’s an out-and-out fool! Ellerby bleeds the land for its immediate profits. The money goes to support his gambling, his drinking, and his whoring. Never does he think to reinvest some of the money back into the property. Anyone with an ounce of sense knows crops don’t seed themselves and come up year after year just begging to be harvested, but Ellerby seems to expect just that! Then he is supremely surprised when the profits stop rolling in and his coffers are empty! The man is a moron; a hazard to society! No wonder the King is banishing him to Ireland! Left to his own devices, he could single-handedly defeat England from within, and the Americans would never need fire a shot!”

  At the end of her discourse, Kirby was staring at her open-mouthed, and the corners of Reed’s lips were twitching suspiciously. Kathleen glared at them both.

  “I’m sorry, Kat,” Reed explained, “but you’ve shocked poor Kirby, I’m afraid. I haven’t seen you on such a tirade since—since Emerald.” He smiled wryly at the thought of her Irish temper.

  “I’ll tell you one thing, Reed Taylor. You haven’t seen anything yet!” she promised. Her eyes spouted green flames. “All I ask is a few more days before we sail.”

  “Till the end of the week?” he suggested.

  “Fine. Mr. Kirby, when can we expect Ellerby’s arrival?”

  “I’d say a week at most. The man is desperately in debt.”

  “Then we’d best get started right away. Mr. Kirby, I do hope you can stay to supper. There is a lot I must discuss with you.” Kathleen started for the house at a fast pace.

  “I take it you have a plan!” Reed called after her.

  The look she flashed him was delightfully wicked; her tinkling, brazen laughter promised trouble. “Do fish swim?” she retorted saucily.

  As Reed watched her prance away, he was bursting with pride. He’d almost forgotten how fabulous his Kat could be in a true temper. She had taken a severe blow, but to watch her, you’d never guess it. For mere seconds, he’d watched her flounder. Then she’d found her feet again and was off and running. She bounced back so quickly, spinning plans and plotting revenge.