"Surely it won't do any harm to listen to what the girl has to say, dear," she said mildly, picking up her knitting once again.
"I suppose not. God only knows how that bastard Augustine ever got a wife like her."
"He probably deceived and tricked her the way he did the rest of us," his wife sniffed, jabbing the needles in and out of the wool as though she were stabbing them through Augustine's heart.
"But whatever we do, we mustn't mention it. She looks very young and innocent. It would be too horrible!" Malcolm shook his head.
"Please, dear, don't get yourself upset."
"I can't help it. My own brother! I should have killed Augustine with my bare hands!"
"I know it's no consolation, my love, but Jonathan never sustained any lasting damage, though the memory must be terrible of what might have happened if you hadn't saved him."
"Thank God Caldwell is dead. The man was a savage. I can't tell you what a funny turn it gives me to see little Jon and Robin talking to his widow. It's all too strange."
"Perhaps it's fate. Maybe she's come here to heal all the old wounds. I've only seen her for a brief second, but she seems genuine. After all, she took in Colonel Lowry's and Mr. Cole's tenants to stop them from being evicted," Priscilla Stephens said in Muireann's defense.
"Maybe she did it so she can take advantage of the poor devils," Malcolm snapped bitterly, pouring himself a large drink from a decanter on the sideboard.
"Really dear, there's no call to be so boorish. Now, if you will go up and tell Nanny to give the boys their tea upstairs tonight, you can go fetch Mrs. Caldwell, er, Miss Graham down, and invite her to have a drop with us," his wife instructed.
When Malcolm reached the top of the stairs and popped his head in the nursery, Muireann and the two boys were hard at it recreating the Battle of Waterloo.
"Who's winning?" he asked quietly, looking at the young beauty stretched out on the carpet with his two small sons on either side of her leaning their heads on her shoulders affectionately.
"The English and the Allies, of course, Daddy," piped Robin, the youngest of the pair, who was only six.
"Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands together. "But now Mummy says it's time for tea, and I have to take Miss Graham downstairs to meet Mummy properly."
"Can't we come?" John asked with a pout.
"After you've had yours. I'm sure Miss Graham will be here for a while, and she wouldn't dream of leaving without saying goodbye."
"Where do you live, Muireann?" Robin asked her sweetly.
"Just to the south of you."
"In that case you can come see us lots!" he exclaimed delightedly. "We can do the Battle of Trafalgar with our wooden ships next time."
"I'll look forward to that. And you can visit me, and see all of our animals on the farm."
"Can we, Daddy?" Jon asked excitedly.
"We'll see. Only good little boys who drink up all their tea and eat all their nice food get to go visiting." Malcolm smiled down at his sons, tousling their hair playfully.
Muireann rose from the floor, and tidied her black-watch tartan woolen gown.
"May I wash my hands before tea? That's assuming your invitation was genuine," she said in a low voice, gathering up her cloak from where she had draped it over the back of the chair.
"My wife Priscilla and I would be most pleased if you could join us, Miss Graham," Malcolm said stiffly.
He offered her his arm, and escorted her to a small boudoir, where a servant brought some warm water a few moments later. Muireann tugged her unruly hair back vigorously and reinserted the pins, and then descended the final flight of stairs to rejoin the Stephenses in their drawing room.
"So, tell us my dear, how long were you and Augustine Caldwell married?" Mrs. Stephens asked curiously.
"A little over a fortnight," came the prompt reply.
Both the man and woman stared at Muireann, and Priscilla shook her head.
"You poor thing."
"I don't expect any sympathy," Muireann said directly. "I deserve none, and it would be hypocritical of anyone to offer it. No one here in this part of the world liked Augustine, that's for certain. So please, spare me the platitudes."
"You're very direct for one so young," Malcolm commented uncomfortably.
Muireann made a deprecating moué. "It saves time in the long run, and time is a commodity I have very little of at the moment. So if you will forgive me, I shall get straight down to business."
"Business?"
"I've come here today because your land adjoins mine. Since I have over three hundred tenants now, I need to plan for the future, to be able to provide food and shelter for them. I know you've always been interested in buying my most northwesterly pasture. But surely you can see that now, with the number of mouths I have to feed, it would be impossible for me to sell it. So I've come to offer to buy your adjacent pasture instead. I also wish to negotiate for giving you reasonable access to the lough shore, and the use of my docks for the loading and unloading of your wares."
Malcolm stared at her, and snorted.
"From what I hear, you're penniless! How on earth could you be in a position to buy my pasture, even were I willing to sell it? Moreover, what makes you think I'd be so eager to want access to the lough? I've done without it for long enough."
"Yes, but you see, my brother-in-law Philip is a wealthy merchant and ship owner in Scotland, always interested in expanding his business interests. I've been successfully trading with him since I arrived here. And since I've also bought the southernmost pasture and the whole forest on Colonel Lowry's estate, you won't be able to use the lough at all once those lands are enclosed if you don't make a deal with me now." She smiled sweetly, but her steely determination was evident in her amethyst eyes.
Malcolm sat down on the sofa with a thump, too stunned to respond.
"You're as ruthless as Augustine ever was!" he eventually accused angrily.
His wife tried to lay a restraining hand on his arm.
Muireann stiffened visibly, and she strove to defend herself. "Not for myself, Mr. Stephens. Surely you must see that! I've done everything I can to get Barnakilla back up on its feet. I refuse to throw those people off their land, to allow them to be forcibly removed from Ireland against their will, simply because of the greed of a few shortsighted landlords. I can make Barnakilla strong again, and give those people a decent home, even a degree of comfort, if they're prepared to work hard.
"I've worked hard!" she declared, holding out her hands palm upwards, so he could see her blisters and calluses. "I've done it all for them! All those people were strangers to me, but they're my family now.
"You would do anything for your family, your two boys. I saw it in your eyes. Certainly you would be selling part of their land, their inheritance, to me. But you would become very wealthy indeed if my brother-in-law's ships could give you access to foreign markets, and you were willing to give me a good price on the land. Rather than money changing hands now, would you be willing to take the price of the land out of a small percentage of your monthly profits over a period of time, with another sum set aside for a contract for my workers to load and unload the ships?"
Malcolm looked uneasy, but she added reasonably, "At the moment the pasture we have been talking about is lying fallow, and the woods above it have always been an inconvenience, dividing the property as it does."
Malcolm responded, "You could take them both off my hands, so long as you allowed me a corridor on your property to go through to the lough."
She nodded. "And I will set aside special days for loading and unloading, allocate you skilled workers, and will oblige you with meat, timber, workers at harvest time, or for doing the shearing and making yarn from your fleeces, whatever trades you are willing to make with me, so long as we can put all past hostilities behind us," Muireann said enthusiastically. "I'm not too proud to beg for my people if I have to."
Malcolm rose from his seat and paced up and down i
n front of the fireplace. "You won't have to beg, Miss Graham. I'll discuss your ideas with my lawyer and my estate manager in the morning. You and the two gentlemen can settle a fair price, to be taken out of the profits starting in say, six months time, since you are in straitened circumstances at the moment. One day, perhaps, when you are less busy, you might care to join us for dinner," he offered.
"I would love to, but I am indeed hard pressed to find a spare moment of the day. In any case, I'm afraid I have nothing to wear, no evening gowns, no jewels, not even a carriage. I sold everything after I was widowed, and have literally started from scratch with what I stand up in."
Priscilla Stephens exclaimed sadly over her misfortunes, and the three of them discussed her various adventures since her arrival in January as they sipped their tea.
In the end, Malcolm was glad he had decided to bury the past and befriend this extraordinary Scottish woman.
"But of course you can visit us," Muireann suggested. "You could come in a few weeks' time to see how the new tenants have settled, and bring the boys. I'm sure they'd love to play with the lambs. There are a few which need bottle-feeding. They could help me look after them."
"Well, Malcolm is very busy, but I'd love to come," Priscilla said warmly. "It sounds like you've done wonders with the place."
"Thank you." Muireann was relieved that she seemed to have won the older woman's approval.
When the carriage clock on the mantelpiece struck six, Muireann started up. "Heavens, is that the time? I must get back. I'm afraid I've taken up far too much of your time already, and the estate manager will be wondering where I am."
"Aye, we had heard you'd taken on Lochlainn Roche. An excellent head on his shoulders, I'm pleased to say, though the rest of the family was so wild."
"The Roches?" Muireann asked, puzzled.
Malcolm opened his mouth, but Priscilla stepped on his foot and ostentatiously declared, "Here, let me help you with your cloak. I'll walk up with you to say goodbye to the boys. And please, do write and tell us a convenient day to visit you."
"It will have to be after Easter, but yes, I promise." Muireann looked from one to the other in confusion. She had no idea why they were both acting so strangely.
All the same, they seemed genuine enough, and so she went up to have a final romp with Jon and Robin.
Then she shook hands with both Mr. and Mrs. Stephens in the foyer of their stately home, and without waiting for Malcolm to come help her, she swung up into the saddle and headed straight back to Barnakilla.
After a hasty supper of rabbit stew, she strode into her office and found Lochlainn waiting for her.
"And just where the hell have you been all day?" he snapped, as she threw off her cloak and went over to warm herself before the fire.
"I told you, I had some deals to make. I went to see Colonel Lowry and Malcolm Stephens. Why, did something happen while I was gone?"
"Damn it, Muireann, you swore to me that you wouldn't sell the pasture to Stephens!"
Of course he couldn't tell her that his own insecurities made him fearful that she would be seduced into longing for the wealthy lifestyle she had sacrificed once she went visiting around the neighborhood and witnessed first hand the luxury of the Grange or Castle Lowry.
Muireann smiled, infuriating Lochlainn still further.
Why does she always have to be in such complete control? he wondered resentfully.
"I didn't sell our pasture. I bought his," she announced proudly. "His and the colonel's, and their forests on the southern end of their estates as well."
Lochlainn's mouth dropped open. "You did what?"
"I told you, I've bought more land, to be paid for out of my share of Malcolm Stephens' trade profits over the next few years. And the colonel has agreed to wait for his payment until we get more money from Mr. Blessington's estate, which he assures me will be soon."
"But how the hell are we going to plant and fertilize the fields?"
"We'll put in more turnips, beets and carrots, and we'll use manure and seaweed."
"Seaweed?"
"It's what we always used in Scotland."
Lochlainn threw himself down in a chair and looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before declaring, "I'll tell you what we also use around here. Sea sticks. You dry them out and burn them, and use the ashes for fertilizer. Also fish bones, ground up fine, depending upon the type of soil you have."
Muireann said excitedly, "It sounds good to me. We can use the sea sticks for fuel for heating things, and then rake up the ashy residue carefully to put on the fields."
"If you give me a couple of days to supervise the new timber cutting, we could go to the beach in Donegal and get ourselves a load."
"What, go on another little excursion?" Her delight was evident from her expression.
"You've been working so hard, you deserve it. I must say, I quite fancy a trip to the beach. There is a lovely sandy one at Rossnowlagh. We would have to stay overnight, and camp out in the dunes."
He grinned lazily, already looking forward to having several days alone with Muireann.
But Muireann shook her head. "I don't know. Perhaps one of us should stay behind if it will take that long."
Lochlainn protested, "You just said this afternoon that you would start trusting everyone to run the place in your absence. Isn't it about time you started delegating responsibility? You can't keep on like this forever, you know. Besides, your birthday is coming up soon. Don't you think you deserve a little treat?"
Muireann weighed the pros and cons in her head, and at last agreed, "All right, I'll go. We can head up on Wednesday, return on Friday, and combine it with a trip to the Donegal market, can't we?"
"Clever woman, that's exactly what I was thinking. We'll get the first cart loaded, and get the other two to come up on Friday for market, load them, and come back home on Saturday or Sunday."
Muireann turned back to her papers to make some new calculations concerning the bargains she had just struck with Malcolm Stephens and Colonel Lowry.
She tried to focus her eyes on the column of figures, but Lochlainn was a distracting presence. He certainly was in a strange mood, and seemed to fill the room, overwhelming her senses.
Suddenly he reached out to stroke her cheek tenderly. "Muireann, I'm sorry if I was angry with you before. I know you're only trying to do what's best for everyone. Augustine always warned me never to trust a word that Malcolm Stephens said, but if you liked him. . ."
"And his wife and little boys. I thought they were lovely people, very genuine," Muireann said, giving her honest assessment.
"I have no idea what could have provoked the fight between them so many years ago. Since I trust your judgment implicitly, I shall have to work with the man from now on, and I'm sorry if I doubted you."
"He certainly seems to think very highly of you as an estate agent, from what he said. So your apology is accepted. I understand your frustration. I suppose it all gets to us in the end, this feeling of, well, confusion. Of powerlessness at times."
"You? Confused? Powerless? You seem to have all the power you need at your fingertips," Lochlainn said, astonished.
"I wish I did sometimes. But I must admit to you, Lochlainn, I'm tired of all these deals, of living by my wits, struggling for every penny, trying to pay the mortgage, and feed everyone. Sometimes I would just like things to be on a even keel for us all."
"Our situation is bound to improve, you'll see. It's been a long three months, but things will get better, I promise. You've already done so much. You can't afford to let yourself get despondent now," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
Inwardly he worried about her. She did indeed look absolutely exhausted. He might have even wondered if she were expecting had she not been so pale. Moreover, she had complained to him shyly of monthly cramps only a few days before, and he had advised her then to rest.
Muireann looked down at her ledger again. "They'll really improve no end if I can tally up t
hese sums," she sighed, desperately trying to concentrate.
But she could smell Lochlainn's clean, sharp, woodsy fragrance, and couldn't seem to take her eyes off his long lean hands.
"Are you going to be much longer poring over those papers?" Lochlainn asked abruptly.
Muireann looked at him. "No, why?"
He reached over and snuffed out the candles. Taking her by the hand, he led her into her bedroom, and began to make love to her with a slow, leisured thoroughness which took Muireann's breath away.
Call Home the Heart Page 22