Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01]

by A Tapestry of Hope

  Kiara wasn’t sure what had caused her da to believe Englishmen such cowards. However, spineless was the kindest word she’d ever heard him use when he referred to the men from across the sea.

  Although her da may have thought Lord Palmerston lily-livered, Kiara was thankful their landlord hadn’t begun evicting his tenants like so many of the other propertied Englishmen.

  Her strength seemed to swell as the manor house came into sight. She quickened her steps to keep pace with her racing heartbeat and hurried onward, turning when she reached the road leading to the mansion and circling in front of the house. Carriages lined the circular drive, providing an assurance the wealthy visitors were not required to walk far before entering the grand front doors, Kiara decided. She spied a cobblestone path leading to the rear of the huge stone edifice and, keenly aware she would never be permitted entry through the front doors, continued around the manse. The sound of laughter and chattering voices carried toward her on a warm afternoon breeze.

  She had barely turned the corner of the house when a man grasped her arm, then quickly turned her loose. With an air of obvious irritation, he began to rapidly swipe his hand back and forth across his buff-colored breeches. ‘‘You are filthy! Where did you come from?’’

  Kiara jumped back, flattening herself against the outer wall of the cold stone manor house. Her eyes were wide with fear. ‘‘I came from across the hills—that way.’’ She pointed to the east, but her focus remained upon the angry man who was questioning her.

  ‘‘I’m in search of Lord Palmerston. Is he close at hand?’’

  ‘‘He may be. Why would the likes of you be asking?’’

  The sound of merriment filtered across the green expanse, and she guardedly looked toward the guests gathered in the yard. The men were playing some form of game while the women appeared to be cheering them on and laughing.

  ‘‘Well, girl? Why are you asking for Lord Palmerston?’’

  ‘‘I’m in need of aid. Me and me brother, we’re starvin’ to death.’’ Her voice trembled in rhythm with her shaking hands.

  The man looked at her as though she spoke some foreign tongue. ‘‘Benton! You’ve got a girl here who fancies your attention.’’ The group of visitors turned toward them and began strolling in their direction. In the front was a tall man in a stylish russet waistcoat and matching trousers, with a woman flanking him on either side like two lovely bookends.

  When the tall man finally stood directly in front of Kiara, he extended his walking stick and poked it under her chin. He lifted the cane, forcing her head upward to meet his piercing stare.

  ‘‘Why have you come to my home?’’ His tone matched the disgust etched upon his face.

  Instinctively, Kiara took one step backward, and his walking stick dropped away from her chin. ‘‘I’m one of yar tenants, and we’re starvin’ to death. Surely ya know the famine has claimed the lives of many. Are ya not concerned about the welfare of yar people?’’ His appearance quickly changed from disgust to anger, his eyes burning like hot embers as he moved forward and closed the short distance between them. ‘‘Don’t you speak to me in that tone. Who do you think you are to question my behavior? As for starving tenants, if you’d learn to cultivate your crops in a reasonable fashion instead of insisting upon that ridiculous lazy-bed method you’ve all adopted, there would be potatoes in your bellies. Headstrong, incompetent people inhabit this country. You refuse to change your ways, so of course you’ll all starve to death.’’

  ‘‘And ya’ll be lendin’ us no assistance?’’

  One of the beautiful bookends tugged at his sleeve. ‘‘I think you should find some way to help the girl,’’ she cooed.

  The other woman fluttered her lashes and grasped his arm more tightly. ‘‘Yes, Benton, let’s help her. Devising a plan to help this girl will be much more entertaining than playing bocce. Don’t you think so?’’ She turned toward the other guests and waved enthusiastically, apparently hoping to solicit support from the crowd. Their immediate shouts of agreement caused her lips to curve upward into a charming smile. ‘‘Help the girl!’’ she shouted.

  ‘‘Help the girl! Help the girl! Help the girl!’’ The chant grew louder and louder until Lord Palmerston finally brandished his cane aloft.

  ‘‘Enough! Why do you care what happens to this poor excuse for a human being?’’

  ‘‘We’ve never done such a thing before—it will be entertaining. Come along, girl. Stand over there, and we’ll circle around and decide what’s to become of you,’’ Sir Lyndon Wilkie ordered.

  He prodded Kiara along with his cane until he had her positioned in the center of the grassy lawn, where they’d been playing their game.

  Linen- and lace-covered tables lined the edge of the bocce field, and Kiara’s attention was riveted upon the servants, who were now arranging food and drink for Lord Palmerston’s guests.

  She watched as visitors ambled by the tables, viewing and discussing the culinary delights before carefully selecting each item. Plates full, they seated themselves on the blankets and small rugs that had been strategically placed on the lawn. She watched the guests feeding pieces of mutton and pork to the dogs wandering the grounds until she could no longer contain her anger.

  Pointing to a woman holding a piece of meat over a sleek greyhound, she called out, ‘‘There are people dyin’ of hunger while ya feed those dogs the finest cuts o’ meat.’’

  ‘‘Those starving people aren’t here, but the dog is,’’ the woman replied. ‘‘Perhaps you would like something to eat?’’ She walked toward Kiara, carrying a hunk of dark bread and a small slab of cheese. ‘‘Shall I give you this?’’

  Had it not been for Paddy, she would have refused the haughty woman. Instead, she grabbed the food, bit off a chunk of the bread, and tucked the remainder into her skirt.

  ‘‘I’ve heard tell people can go mad when deprived of food.

  This girl has a wild look in her eyes.’’

  Lord Palmerston stepped forward. ‘‘Sit down, Winifred. The girl is frightened, stupid, and starving, but she’s not insane. You were one of those chanting to help her. Have you had a change of heart?’’

  ‘‘No, I suppose not.’’ She turned on her heel and walked back to her blanket.

  Lord Palmerston remained beside Kiara. ‘‘Now, what would you have me do with the girl? You were all anxious to have her act as your entertainment. What say you?’’

  ‘‘Let’s give her a new life. Let’s send her to England,’’ one of the women called out.

  Another man jumped up from his blanket. ‘‘England is already swarming with starving, typhus-infested Irish immigrants. She’d be no better off in Liverpool than she is here. Let’s think of some other country we can send her to.’’

  ‘‘Yes! In fact, what about sending her to the Colonies? Let her go across the sea and start a completely new life,’’ Mathias New-house suggested.

  ‘‘Don’t you have distant relatives who absconded to America, Palmerston? You could send her as an indentured servant to your relatives.’’

  ‘‘Hear! Hear! Send the girl to America!’’ several men shouted as they raised their glasses in a jubilant toast.

  Lord Palmerston paced back and forth in front of Kiara several times and then nodded in agreement. ‘‘America it is. Now can we get back to our game of bocce?’’

  Kiara jumped in front of Lord Palmerston. ‘‘I can’t go to America, sir. I have a young brother, and both me parents have died from the famine. I canna leave Padraig. I won’t leave ’im.’’

  ‘‘What’s the problem, Palmerston?’’ Mathias Newhouse asked.

  A large number of the guests were striding toward them. ‘‘The girl wanting some additional money?’’

  ‘‘She has a brother and simply won’t leave without him.’’

  ‘‘Well, send him too—that’s easy enough. It’s not as though you can’t afford passage for the two of them. It’s the most expedient way of returning to your ga
me of bocce, isn’t it?’’

  Lord Palmerston grunted before looking down at Kiara. ‘‘I’ll send the two of you, but you’ll sign papers for five years of indentured service to my second cousin. Come back tomorrow with your brother, and I’ll make the arrangements. You’ve ruined my afternoon of entertainment with your antics, so you’d best not fail to appear or I’ll send my man looking for you, and he’ll snip off your ears when he finds you. Do you understand, lass?’’

  Her lips twisted into a disgusted wrinkle. She’d bite off his fingers before he’d have a chance to snip at her ears! But she and Paddy would appear on the morrow, for if they remained in Ireland, they’d surely starve to death. She had no desire to leave her homeland or the graves of her parents—the very thought weighed heavy on her heart. Yet she knew there was nothing to do but agree. ‘‘Yes, sir. And if I might get a bit more food to take with for me neighbors, I’d be grateful.’’

  ‘‘Take some food—take all of the food, just be on your way.’’

  One of the women grasped Lord Palmerston’s arm. ‘‘Now, wasn’t that an enjoyable diversion? And look at the good your wealth has accomplished. You’ve saved two sad souls today. Surely that will buy you a place of honor with God.’’ They all laughed at this.

  Kiara took a cloth one of the servants gave her, along with instructions to return it the next day. She circled the table, placing food into the fabric while listening to the group of partygoers, who were congratulating one another on the good they’d done this day. Their words rang in her ears, a mockery of the devastation that abounded throughout the countryside. She longed to confront each one of them and say what selfish dolts she thought them, but she dared not. She took the bundle of food and hurried toward home, anxious to share a small portion of their abundance with Paddy and their neighbors. Anxious, too, to see what joy the small feast would bring this night and yet knowing for some, it would merely prolong life for a few more miserable days.

  CHAPTER • 17

  LORD PALMERSTON’S servants scrubbed and outfitted Kiara and Padraig for their journey, and when all was in readiness, they were summoned to the front hallway. Lord Palmerston stared down upon them as though they were outlandish creatures that should be banished as quickly as possible.

  ‘‘This is a letter of reference for my cousin, along with the money for your passage to America and enough for transportation from Boston to Lowell, where my relatives reside. You and your brother will be indentured to my cousin for five years in order to settle up your debt to me. Don’t consider any attempt to besmirch these arrangements, or I shall arrange for your brother’s demise and force you to watch while he dies a slow and painful death. And don’t think I won’t find you, girl. I have eyes and ears everywhere, including on the docks and aboard the ship you’ll sail on. See that you don’t repay my generosity with deceit. My driver will take you to the docks and remain until you board the ship. Do you understand?’’

  Kiara nodded.

  ‘‘Speak up, girl. I want to hear more than your brains rattling in your head. Give me a verbal affirmation.’’

  ‘‘Aye, I understand. When we arrive in this place called Lowell, will there be someone meetin’ us? I do na know how to locate yar relative.’’

  Lord Palmerston looked heavenward and shook his head. ‘‘No wonder you people are starving to death. I doubt there’s one of you that has the sense of a church mouse.’’

  ‘‘We’re not starvin’ because we’re stupid; we’re starvin’ because our potatoes ’ave the blight. A problem no Englishman has been able to solve, I might add.’’

  ‘‘You’ve a smart mouth on you, girl. Hearken my words, your sassy remarks will cause you nothing but trouble. Now listen carefully— my cousin’s name is clearly marked on the outside of the letter I gave you.’’ He snatched the missive away from her and tapped his finger atop the penned words. ‘‘You will be indentured to Mr. Bradley Houston, who is a man of importance in Lowell, just as I am in County Kerry. If you asked any of your neighbors how to find Lord Palmerston, could they direct you to this estate?’’

  She nodded but immediately remembered his earlier admonition and said, ‘‘Aye. I’ll do as ya’ve instructed.’’

  ‘‘And as for the potato problem, Miss O’Neill, if the Irish had taken the advice of the English years ago and learned to plant properly, their potatoes wouldn’t be rotting in the ground.’’

  Kiara was certain he was testing her, anxious to see if she’d argue with him. Well, she’d not give him the satisfaction. She knew that from the early days of the blight, the English had argued the lazy-bed method of planting had caused the potato famine. Yet they had no answer why this traditional Irish way of farming had always yielded large, disease-free crops in the past. Arguing would serve no purpose. None of it mattered anymore. Her ma and pa were rotting in the ground, just like the potato crop, and she and Paddy would likely never set foot on Irish soil again.

  Lord Palmerston turned to his servant. ‘‘Take them to Dingle and wait until they’ve boarded. In fact, wait until their ship actually sails. Given the opportunity, I’m not certain the girl won’t disembark or even jump overboard and swim for shore with my coins in her pocket. I can’t trust the likes of her to keep her word.’’

  Once again Kiara remained silent. She wanted to tell him about the ‘‘likes of her’’—Irish men, women, and children starving to death while the wealthy English played games on the lawn and wasted food that could be used to save their lives. Yes, indeed, the ‘‘likes of her’’ might just steal his money or food to save a fellow Irishman because the pompous English landlords cared nothing about saving their tenants from certain death.

  They’d traveled only a short distance when Paddy snuggled closer and rested his head on Kiara’s shoulder. ‘‘We’ll likely never be settin’ foot in such a lovely place as Lord Palmerston’s estate again. It was right nice, wasn’t it? And all that food. Do ya think the estate in America will be so nice?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, Paddy, but we’ll be havin’ five long years to find out.’’

  ‘‘Ya’re sad to be leavin’ Ireland, aren’t ya?’’

  Kiara took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. ‘‘Leavin’ is the right thing to do—the only thing to do. We’ll die if we stay in Ireland.’’

  ‘‘And our new landlord might be a nice man who will treat us well.’’

  ‘‘He’s not goin’ to be a landlord, Paddy, and we’ll not be farmin’ our own patch of ground. We’ll be servants forced to do whatever work we’re assigned.’’

  Paddy gazed up at her, his deep brown eyes wistful. ‘‘But we’ll not be hungry, will we?’’

  She pulled him near and ruffled his freshly washed and trimmed black curls. ‘‘No, Paddy, we’ll not be hungry. There’s no potato blight in America. Now take a good long look at the countryside so ya can remember the beauty of yar homeland. One day ya’ll have children of yar own, and I want ya to be able to tell them of the beauty of the Emerald Isle.’’

  Paddy rested his chin atop one arm along the edge of the carriage window, doing as his sister bade. He traveled in that position, with his thin body swaying with each pitch of the carriage, until they neared their destination. With an excited bounce, he turned toward his sister. ‘‘I love the smell of the ocean. We must be gettin’ close.’’

  Kiara clenched her fists, fighting to keep any emotion from her voice. ‘‘Aye, that we are.’’

  When the carriage jerked to a stop, the driver jumped down, unloaded their baggage, and opened the carriage door. ‘‘Come along. We’ll go and pay for your passage and see how soon the ferry will be sailing.’’

  ‘‘Do ya think it will sail today?’’ Paddy asked the driver.

  ‘‘There’s more people here than I’ve seen in all me life. Would they all be sailin’ for America? Do ya think they’ll all fit on one ship?

  It’ll be mighty crowded if we all try to get on one ship, won’t it?’’

  The coac
hman gave Paddy a look of exasperation as he hoisted the trunk. ‘‘Lord Palmerston said the ship sails today, and since ya can see it anchored out there, I’m sure ya’ll soon be taking the ferry. I don’t have answers to the rest of yar questions. The two of ya get the rest of yar belongings.’’

  Kiara picked up the satchels and hurried Paddy along. ‘‘But what if there’s no space available?’’ Kiara inquired. ‘‘Will you stay with us here in Dingle?’’

  ‘‘Don’t ya be gettin’ any ideas, lassie. If that should happen, I’ll return ya to Lord Palmerston and await his biddin’. Now come along with ya.’’

  Kiara and Paddy followed, careful to stay close behind the coachman. With a determined stride, he led them through the multitude of gathered passengers and into one of the shipping company offices.

  ‘‘I need steerage for two children on the ship that’s sailin’ for America today,’’ the coachman told the agent.

  ‘‘Steerage is full. If you wanna pay extra, there’s a cabin still available. Ya’re late gettin’ here. That ship sailed from England, and there’s only toppin’ off space available. And those two pay full fare, for they’re way past the age of being considered children. ’Tis extra for the ferry.’’

  ‘‘But there’s no other way to get to the ship. Is that not included in their passage?’’

  ‘‘If it was included, would I be tellin’ ya it’s extra? I told ya, if ya’re wantin’ to board a ship to America today, the ferry will be leaving in an hour.’’

  The coachman didn’t argue. He pulled out a leather pouch, counted out six pounds for each of them, and listened to the instructions the man barked in their direction. They stepped aside, and the man began his speech to the people who had been standing in line behind them.

  Kiara tugged on the coachman’s sleeve. ‘‘Did you hear what he told them? I thought he said we were gettin’ the last cabin.’’

  ‘‘He sells passage on more than one ship. Come along now. Ya have to go through the medical inspection before ya can board the ferry.’’ He pointed them toward the line outside another building along the wharf. ‘‘Just follow along, and I’ll be waitin’ when ya come out.’’