For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Since his brother’s disappearance Sonny had found himself back in the grocery full-time. Things were far too hectic what with deliveries and book-keeping for him to have the afternoons off for his painting. He didn’t know if he could be bothered to paint anyway. Enthusiasm didn’t figure in his moods lately. Not even the fact that he’d sold quite a few of the pictures that hung in the store could lift him. He could not say what his feelings had been when his father had come home and broken the news. He wasn’t sure that he felt anything. Even his parents’ relief was short-lived; Dickie was still missing. However, they were more inclined to believe that their son had been the victim of an abduction rather than a murder and were convinced that if they found the Fallons they would also find their son. Thomasin returned to the store too, where both she and her younger son plunged themselves into its running, in the hope that it would take their minds off other things.

  Sonny was perched in the window, making lukewarm attempts at a new display while his mother pandered to the inconsistencies of her loquacious patrons. He wondered where on earth they found the breath for their non-stop gossip, then cursed as his display fell to bits in his fumbling hands. He was about to start from scratch, when he happened to glance up and saw Clancy striding purposefully along Goodramgate, his face set in a determined scowl, and had no illusions as to where the man was heading.

  It wasn’t Clancy’s first visit. He had called at their house a dozen times. Up until now the Feeneys had managed to keep their son’s disappearance a secret, but judging from the look on his face, someone had not been so discreet. Sonny’s first thought was to hiss a warning to his mother, then decided against it. Why should he? Let them fight and bicker among themselves and leave him out of it.

  Thomasin had just scraped three and a penny change from the till and was handing it over when Clancy burst through the knot of customers to confront her, ignoring the women’s twittering grievances at being jostled. ‘Somebody’s just informed me that that snake-eyed brat o’ yours has pulled a fast one! Is it right?’ Thomasin rebuked him for his behaviour. He ignored her. ‘I said is it right?’

  ‘If you refer to my son’s disappearance,’ she snapped, ‘then yes, you were informed correctly. Now, could you wait ’til I’ve served these ladies?’

  ‘I’ve a daughter at home with your son’s child bustin’ her belly an’ you tell me to wait!’ yelled Clancy.

  There was a chorused gasp from the customers. A lot of clandestine titters were exchanged.

  Thomasin was mortified. ‘Really, Mr Clancy – do you have to speak so plainly?’

  ‘Really, Mr Clancy!’ mimicked the Irishman. ‘Listen, if that schemin’, lyin’ worm o’ yours thinks he’s goin’ to welsh on his promise just by runnin’ away then he can think again.’

  ‘He hasn’t run away,’ protested Thomasin, wishing Sonny would come to her aid. But the young man merely observed from his window-seat. ‘We think he’s been kidnapped.’ It sounded absolutely ludicrous.

  Clancy thought so too. He opened his mouth and roared while the customers listened to this exchange with unconcealed interest. ‘Kidnapped? Jazers, that’s the best joke I’ve heard all year. Who’d want to kidnap a useless backslider like him?’

  ‘You were keen enough for him to marry your daughter,’ was Thomasin’s glacial response.

  ‘An’ I still am.’ Clancy placed large, meaty hands on the counter and breathed beer fumes into her face. ‘So, if ye catch up with him before I do ye can tell him this: either he gets his arse into that church before my girl gets much fatter, or Peggy gets herself a nice new pair o’ dangly earrings – made from your son’s balls.’

  There were more gasps of condemnation as he barged out, then every eye turned on Thomasin who smiled weakly and wished she were dead.

  * * *

  When Patrick was informed of the incident he was all for sorting the matter out in his usual fashion. ‘The pie-eyed poltroon! I’ll teach him to threaten my family.’

  ‘Cool down!’ Thomasin, calm once again, flicked out her table napkin and covered her skirt. ‘The days have gone when you can go around thumping people. Anyway, that’d only make matters worse.’

  ‘Hah! How could they be worse?’ Patrick wanted to know. He took a mouthful of soup then pushed away the bowl, his appetite blunted.

  ‘They can be worse if you upset Josie by not eating the meal she’s been slaving over all afternoon,’ replied his wife. She pushed his bowl back towards him. ‘The Lord knows I don’t feel like eating either but you have to keep up your strength. I can’t have you flaking out on me.’ She eyed Sonny who was staring down into his soup. ‘You too.’ He blinked at her, then picked up his spoon uninterestedly. ‘And where were you this afternoon when I needed you?’ enquired his mother. ‘Sat in the window like some … dummy. Were you waiting until he got his hands round my throat before you decided to move?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I assumed you could handle it,’ muttered Sonny.

  ‘And so I could. But it would’ve been nice if my son had shown some sort of filial concern.’

  ‘Your son!’ he retorted, laying down the spoon. ‘And which son would that be, Mother?’

  ‘I only see the one here.’

  ‘Oh, forgive me,’ he replied sarcastically. ‘I quite forgot for the moment that you had two sons. I thought you referred to the one who’s always getting up to his mischievous little tricks. Playful things, like deception and lechery. The one who makes a hobby of stealing other people’s girls. The one who’s been occupying your thoughts for the past two months so that you don’t give a damn about anyone else!’

  ‘That is quite enough!’ Patrick pushed back his chair and flung his napkin onto the table. ‘Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph, what’s got into this family?’

  ‘I can’t speak for Mother but I can tell you what’s got into me,’ was the brittle answer. ‘Two months ago I was making wedding plans with Peggy, then suddenly overnight I find my life in ruins. And does one of you really care about that? No! You’re all too busy searching for my dear brother.’

  ‘It might look that way …’ began his mother.

  ‘It is that way!’

  ‘No! Now be quiet,’ commanded his father, coming round to his side of the table. ‘To accuse me and your mother of favouritism is absolutely preposterous. After all the trouble Dickie caused us …’

  ‘Yes! After all the trouble he’s caused you and still all you can think about is if he’s alive or not. Never a thought for my unhappiness – and what about Peggy?’

  ‘What about her?’ asked Thomasin without thinking.

  ‘Exactly! If I hadn’t seen you weeping and wailing I could almost think you were glad my brother has disappeared so that she’d no longer have any claim on this family. You’ve never liked her, never wanted me to marry her, and now you’ve got the excuse to be rid of her because with Dickie gone there’ll be no wedding, will there? And what about Dusty? There was no complaint about Dickie marrying her, was there? No trying to talk him out of it like with me and Peggy. And we all know the reason for that, don’t we? Dusty was bringing property with her – not like poor old Peggy. That was the crunch, wasn’t it, Mother? You weren’t so fond of Dusty as of her money.’ He suddenly found himself spreadeagled on the carpet with his father towering over him and the taste of blood in his mouth.

  ‘Don’t you ever speak to your mother like that again!’ warned Patrick, his pointed finger quivering with passion. ‘D’ye hear me? Never! Let me put a few facts your way, boy. Firstly, there is no favouritism in this house. Of course we’re worried about your brother, we love him, he’s our son, despite all the hurt he’s caused us – but we worry just as much about you. Secondly, your mother and I welcomed Dusty for her own sake, not because of her father’s business. She’s a nice girl; we liked and respected her very much. She would’ve been a great asset to this family. As for Peggy …’ he frowned, dropped his hand to his side and took a pace backwards, g
iving his son room to pick himself up; but Sonny stayed where he was, a thread of scarlet running to his chin. ‘Personally speaking I was ready to accept the girl – even if she did talk as though she had a mouthful o’ plums. But your mother …’ he paused to allow Thomasin her say.

  ‘I didn’t think she was right for you, Sonny,’ she told him candidly. ‘It’s as simple as that. No other reason – certainly no monetary one. And I’ve been proved right about her, haven’t I?’

  Sonny thumped the carpet. ‘But you will insist on laying all the blame on her when you know it lays with Dickie!’

  ‘Oh, come on, let’s be right Sonny,’ parried Thomasin. ‘She had her eye on him ever since you first brought her to this house. I wonder you never noticed – and I did try to warn you. How can you defend her when she’s hurt you so?’

  ‘Damnation! Don’t you think she’s been hurt as well?’ volleyed Sonny, springing up and angrily wiping the blood from his chin. ‘Can’t you see that? Are you both blind?’

  ‘You’re the one who’s blind, lad,’ said Thomasin reciprocating his exasperation. ‘And yes, you were right when you said I was relieved you weren’t going to marry her; she would’ve made your life a misery.’

  Sonny sighed heavily and was about to reply when the door opened a fraction and Josie’s wary face peeped around it, bearing a note before her. ‘I’m terribly sorry to intrude, sir,’ she said to Patrick. ‘But I’ve just found this note shoved through the door. I thought it might be urgent.’

  Patrick thanked her as she backed out. He roughly unfolded the note which was without an envelope. The others watched his face which remained unreadable as he scanned the sheet. When he had finished he passed it to Thomasin who read aloud the badly composed and misspelt letter.

  To feeny this is ofishal an if I do not get a repli I am goin to the Law if you think I am goin to pay for this bastad yor son as planted you can think agen my dorter reseevd a propsl of marrij from yor uther sun so if the won wot did the damij as cleerd off then the won that propsd will hav to marry her if he dont I will get onto him for breech of promis expectin a promt repli – CLANCY.

  ‘I don’t think we need concern ourselves,’ said Thomasin, passing the note to her son. ‘I’d hardly class it as a legal document. Besides, it’d never stand up in court when the truth was known, even if Clancy could afford the legal fee.’

  ‘Nevertheless, our Mr Clancy could cause a whole lot o’ trouble,’ speculated Patrick.

  ‘No, he won’t.’ Sonny, having read the letter, ran his finger and thumb along the crease and filed it behind the clock on the mantelshelf.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ asked his mother.

  ‘Because I’m going to do as he asks,’ replied her son simply. ‘I’m going to marry her.’

  ‘Really, Sonny there’s no need,’ panicked Thomasin. ‘Clancy has neither the nous nor the money to take you to court. Even if by some miracle he did then you know we’d stand by you. There’s not the slightest reason why you should kowtow to blackmail.’

  ‘Yes there is, Mother,’ replied Sonny, fixing her with his solemn grey eyes. ‘You see, I love her.’

  * * *

  All the hurt and betrayal were magically washed away when Sonny beheld his enchanting little bride. She looked so vulnerable and innocent that his heart surged with love as he walked to the altar with her. He had had time to do a lot of thinking in the past two months and had come to the conclusion that if you really loved somebody you could forgive them anything – and he really did love her. He just couldn’t bear to spend the rest of his life wondering what he had missed, and so he accepted his brother’s leavings.

  There was precious little merriment at the wedding – it was a furtive and hasty affair – but Sonny didn’t mind; he had what he craved for. Thomasin, strongly against the marriage – more so than ever – had threatened to withdraw her former offer of a settlement, but Sonny was not ruled by thoughts of money as was his brother. ‘You’d surely not see your own son rely on others’ charity,’ he had taunted, and she had given in – but not completely. He could bring Peggy to live in the family house where she, Thomasin could keep an eye on her, but the settlement would not come until Sonny’s mother was satisfied as to her daughter-in-law’s motives.

  ‘I don’t deserve anyone as noble as you, Sonny,’ Peggy told him as she sat up in bed waiting for him later that night. ‘After I wronged you so, I wonder that you even wanted to see me again.’

  He stationed himself by the bed, feeling awkward and conspicuous in his nightshirt. ‘How could I think that?’ he answered gruffly. ‘I love you, Peg.’

  ‘After what I did?’ she asked with hooded eyes.

  ‘All you did, Peggy, was to be led astray by someone who didn’t give a toss for the consequences. I couldn’t go on blaming you for Dickie’s treachery.’

  ‘Oh, Sonny!’ She threw aside the sheet, allowing him to discard his modesty. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, and I promise I’ll be a good wife.’

  He slid into bed beside her and took her in his arms, felt himself harden at the soft assault of her swollen breasts which pierced their two nightgowns. The warm feminine scent at the base of her throat acted as balm to his uncertainty, and he began to apply his lips tenderly to her musky hollows, tugging gently at the bows on her nightgown. He ran his hands down the sweep of her back, cleaving her to him. He murmured that he loved her dearly, and she responded by hoisting up both their garments so that the full heat of her body was upon him. And gently, very gently he entered her as though his brother’s defilement had never taken place.

  Later, drenched in contentment, Sonny fell asleep, his scarlet head pillowed on his wife’s flawless shoulder. Peggy lay awake for much longer, bitterly regretting the scheming that had landed her in this mess. At first she had genuinely considered Sonny as a suitor – oh, she didn’t love him, but his obvious wealth made him a very attractive prospect indeed … until she had been introduced to his brother.

  It wasn’t the first time she had heard the name Richard Feeney; his reputation as a ladies’ man was well-broadcast and it was easy to see the reason women fell for him as both had run an admiring eye over the other. It had then become her idea to test each brother out, see which one was the best candidate for marriage then opt accordingly. She had desperately hoped it might be Dickie, but after only one secret assignation she had come to recognise a nature as unscrupulous as her own – this one did not intend to offer marriage or anything else come to that – so she had regrettably decided that it must be the boring, if steadfast, one for her husband. Still, she hadn’t allowed that to handicap her enjoyment. The arrangement had seemed like a perfectly reasonable one and she had seen no wrong in accepting the more honourable son’s proposal whilst rutting with his kin.

  Then she had found herself pregnant. She hadn’t bothered telling Dickie, aware that it would make no impression, but instead had continued with her plan to marry Sonny. Of course, that was before her mother had noticed her condition and her father had started to throw his weight about, nearly spoiling everything. There had been a brief flash of optimism when he had ordered Dickie to marry her, but that hadn’t lasted long. Dickie was gone and here she was landed with his brother.

  She moved her head around as far as his own would allow. He moaned in his sleep and snuggled up closer. Peggy supposed she should be grateful, but she just couldn’t help comparing her husband’s clumsy lovemaking with his brother’s experienced throes. Her body throbbed, unsatiated. Sonny mumbled her name in his sleep. Poor Sonny, despite the bitter disappointment she would try to be a good wife to him. She would try dreadfully hard.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Unfortunately for everyone there was little conviction in Peggy’s resolution. The brilliant sunshine that marked St Patrick’s Day did nothing to brighten the fractious atmosphere that her arrival in the house had created. Oh, she had tried; for three whole weeks she had been wifeliness personified. But, as Thomasin had predicted to herself on
witnessing this attempt, the mode of perfect spouse was short-lived.

  Peggy became bored with her role. She had expected that marrying into such a wealthy family would bring her everything she had always wanted, plus a servant to wait on her hand and foot. Oh, what a delight to play the part of lady for once, instead of overworked maid. But she had reckoned without her mother-in-law. Thomasin made it clear that Peggy was expected to assist with the household chores; albeit small ones, this was not what Peggy had had in mind when she had laid her plan. Her husband, she found out, was totally under his mother’s rule. It would appear that her inauguration to lady of the manor would have to be attained by drawing on his sympathetic nature. So, one morning, under pretext of a debility brought on by her condition, she had stayed in bed and had remained there ever since.

  At one point it looked as if her subtle workings would be spoilt by her father; Clancy had not been invited to the wedding and neither had any other member of that family. It was quite bad enough, said Thomasin, having one of them living with her without having to entertain a dozen such monstrosities. Clancy, though, had had other ideas. His daughter was not to be the only beneficiary of the marriage – he wanted a piece of it for himself. However, his belligerent attempt at blackmail had been thwarted before it had taken root. The only money he had squeezed from the Feeneys had been the amount needed to mend his broken jaw when Patrick had dished out his answer to this blackmail. Happily for everyone, Peggy especially, this had been the last visit Clancy had paid to the Feeney house.

  Thomasin helped herself to a honeycomb and observed her son over the breakfast table. ‘Are we not to have the pleasure of Peggy’s company again this morning?’ Why, oh why could she not keep the twinge of acerbity from her voice when speaking of her daughter-in-law? It was hardly Sonny’s fault that she was as she was, and it must hurt him to hear his wife spoken of in such scathing tones. She must try to practice tolerance.