They always said my mother and father had a great love, but you don’t know about such things as children. One thing I did know. Love will leave you shattered, hollow you out and destroy you. The tiny town of Dunraven already had one broken O’Malley in their midst, and I refused to add another to their ranks. I would survive and win, and I didn’t need love to do that.
Breathing hard, Johnny flashed me a wide smile and kissed me deep on the lips. “I cannot wait until we can do that beneath the roof of Dunraven.”
“Neither can I,” I said, kissing him again and snuggling deep into his chest. “Promise me you won’t forget about me.”
He clutched me tight against him. “I won’t.”
That was the first lie he ever told me.
Chapter Three
Johnny left early the next morning along with Lord Andrews, and the whole town buzzed with the news. I wandered the rain-soaked streets, Johnny’s ring cold against my skin, and hushed whispers surrounded me as the rain pelted down on my head. How can the little lord do such a thing? What does Lord Brighton have to say about it? As I passed by, the villagers averted their eyes, and a sinking pit of regret settled into my belly. People were talking. About us. About the girl he left behind. Gritting my teeth, I hurried home, clutching my basket close against my chest.
Father sat in the kitchen, going over a pile of documents from the estate, and he looked up when I rushed through the door. “Have you heard the news about Johnny Brighton? His lordship is enraged. Ran off to fight in the Royal Navy?” Da shook his head. “How could the lad be such a fool?”
I threw my basket down on the counter with too much force, and a bag of onions tumbled to the floor. I cursed beneath my breath and scrambled to pick them up, my hands shaking.
Da rested a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t ye worry about him, Mary.”
I whirled around. “I’m not,” I said, a bit too shrilly.
But I was worried for him, but more so for what would happen to Dunraven if that fool Johnny found himself at the bottom of the sea with a cannonball in his belly. All my plans, everything I had worked for, would be lost.
He studied me with his clear green eyes and nodded slowly. “It’s time ye were wed, Mary. Ye need someone to look out for ye.”
I turned to leave the room. “I don’t need anyone to look out for me.”
“What about Jacob Connelly? He’s a good-looking lad.”
“The pig farmer? And smell like offal and bog water for the rest of my life?” I reached out to lean against the doorjamb, dizziness washing over me. “You must be mad.”
“Ye set your sights too high, Mary.” Da wagged his finger at me. “Ye watch yeself. Ye’ll end up an old spinster if ye’re not careful.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I snapped, darting out of the room. I dug into my bodice and clutched the ruby ring dangling from my neck, my fingers worrying the stone over and over again like a rosary. Johnny would come back. He had to come back.
But weeks passed, and he did not.
…
Da let out a slight groan as he settled into his chair. “So tell me about your operation there, Jacob. Ye and your father seemed to have settled into a nice situation.”
Father had invited Jacob Connelly to tea, and the large farmer sat on the small settee, its spindly legs creaking beneath his weight. He did cut a nice figure with his dark reddish hair brushed back and his long muscled legs, but I would never forget the way he’d teased me as a child. He once threw my kitten down an old well, and it mewled for days, until Johnny finally came along and rescued it. The memory of its cries haunted me as I poured tea into Jacob’s tiny cup, dwarfed by his large, working man’s hands.
“It’s a right fair situation, sir, with near a hundred hogs planned for next year.”
“Yer father also told me ye built a new cottage for yerself,” Da said.
“Aye, sir.” Jacob nodded enthusiastically, glancing at my chest as I offered him another biscuit. “’Tis a fine little place out by the orchard. But ’tis a little lonely.”
“So ye looking to remedy that, I’m sure. A fine lad such as yerself should have no problem.” Da winked, and Jacob chuckled, his eyes flitting toward me.
I sat there, impassive, sipping my tea. Woe betides the young woman who would have to fulfill that position.
Da stood up abruptly. “Oh, I just remembered, I have some business with the blacksmith. I need to run off for a moment. Ye don’t mind, do ye, Jacob? Would give ye and Mary some time to catch up.”
A wave of panic rushed through my body, my chest tightening. “Perhaps we should walk over with you?” I said in a thin voice. “It’s a lovely day, and I would appreciate the exercise.”
“Nonsense, Mary. Ye just started tea. Enjoy ye selves. I’ll be back in about an hour, for sure.”
He made for the door, and I grabbed his hat, meeting him at the threshold. “Please,” I mouthed the words so Jacob couldn’t hear me. “Stay.”
Da ignored me and called over my shoulder. “Give my best to ye Ma.”
“Aye,” Jacob said as he chomped down on another biscuit, crumbs falling onto his shirt.
Taking a deep breath, I whirled to face him. “It’s been a long time, Jacob. Are you still drowning kittens in wells?”
Jacob slumped in his seat, his smile fading from his face. “That was years ago, Mary. I did it on a dare, ye know. For a lark.”
“On a dare? You’re so weak-willed, you would try to kill an innocent creature to what? Prove how tough you are?”
“No, it wasn’t that.” Jacob squirmed in his seat, a small thread of sweat beading on his upper lip. “It’s just ye were so above us all. I wanted—that is, the boys wanted—och, I can’t explain it.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Please, do. I’m afraid I’m failing to understand.”
“Ye’ve always thought ye was better than us! Ye with ye book learning and ye pretty manners. Maybe we just wanted to take you down a bit. Ye’ve always had high expectations, Mary.”
“Why?” I threw my shoulders back. “Because I want to be more than a pig farmer?”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone knows how ye carry on with Lord Johnny. How ye mooned after him. What do ye think he would ever want with the likes of ye? Yer Irish just like me. Ye should be having an Irish husband.” He slammed his fist against his chest.
“You mean you?” I scoffed. “I think I would rather lie with one of your pigs than share your bed, Jacob Connelly.”
He stood up, his eyes narrowing. “I’d love to watch you rolling naked in the mud, Mary. When ye’re my wife, I’ll make sure of it.”
I took a step back. “I’ll never be your wife. You disgust me.”
“It’s all been arranged. Yer father has agreed.” Jacob crept closer, closing in on me until my back pressed against the wall. Caging me in with his massive arms, he stared down at me with a dark grin, his breath hot on my cheek. “We’ll be married next Sunday.”
Anger boiled in my chest, and I shook my head. “I’ll never marry you.”
Jacob’s rough hand snapped up to my face, and he grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“I don’t know what happened between ye and that little lordling, but I’ll be sure to fuck the memory of him right out of ye, ye little slut.”
“Get out of my house,” I hissed, wrenching my chin away.
He backed up, pausing at the deadly look in my eyes.
“Get out!” I screamed.
Jacob made for the door, a smug smile on his face. “I’ll see ye next Sunday, Mary. Wear white. That is, if you can.”
He slammed the door behind him, and I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my bruised face, blinking back a flood of tears.
When Da finally returned an hour later, he found me sitting on the settee, my hands shaking. “You can’t be serious,” I hissed. “I won’t marry that brute!”
With his hat in hands, he approached me, eyes wide. “Mary, listen—”
&
nbsp; “No, there’s nothing left for you to say. You can’t force me to wed Jacob Connelly! I won’t have him.”
My father’s eyes sparked with rage. Always a gentle man, his anger could be formidable if triggered. “You will have him. I’ve let you go wild for far too long. People are talking, Mary. About ye and Johnny Brighton. I won’t have my daughter be the fodder for idle gossipers. It’s time ye were properly wed. Yer twenty now. It’s time.”
“Da, please!”
“It’s done! I’ve drawn up the papers and everything.”
I stood up, pacing the room, trying to muster up the courage to tell him what happened. I couldn’t hide it from him anymore.
“You will marry him,” Da insisted.
“I can’t.” I choked back a sob, leveling my shoulders.
“What do ye mean ye can’t?” His voice dropped to his deepest register and his clear eyes spit fire.
“I can’t, Da.” I swallowed hard, the words like gravel in my throat. “Johnny and I, we…” My voice trailed off, my father’s sturdy figure growing blurry through my tears.
“Out with it, Mary!”
“Johnny proposed to me, and I accepted him.”
“What?” His face blanched, his fingers trembling.
“He gave me his ring.” I slipped it out beneath my dress and held it up to the light. “I wanted to tell you, but we were to wait until he returned, to make it proper-like. He wrote out a will and everything before he left. It’s under the floorboards beneath his bed. I swear it, Da.”
He staggered backward, catching himself on the back of a chair. “Mary, how could ye do such a thing?”
I raced over to him and took his hand, clutching it tight. “I did it for Dunraven, Da. And for Ma. I wanted to take it back. I may bear the Brighton name, but I’m an O’Malley through and through. O’Malley blood will run through the blood of my sons.”
His ears pricked up. “Are ye with child now?”
“No, Da.” My hand drifted instinctively to my belly, but my flux had come last week.
He shook his head, letting out a long exhale, his brow furrowed. “Mary, the rebellion is over. Marrying Johnny Brighton won’t bring your mother back.”
My mouth gaped open, and I clenched my fists. “You think I don’t know that? Marrying Johnny won’t change anything, but it might make a difference for those poor cottagers over the ridge. It might change something for the children of the village who won’t have to hide under hedges to learn their sums and letters. You know firsthand how Lord Brighton mismanages the estate. We could return Dunraven to her former glory. It’s within our grasp, Da.”
He collapsed into the chair, folding his head in his hands. I had no way to measure his response, so I waited, staring dumbly at the bald spot on the top of his head. He was an old man now, beaten down from working so hard for Lord Brighton. What would it have meant for him to move into the castle of our ancestors? Live out the rest of his days beneath his roof? I had to make this right somehow.
He raised his head, and tears glimmered in his eyes. “Mary, how could ye lie to me like this?”
I threw myself to the ground before his knees and grabbed his hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s deceitful, and I’ve always been a good girl. It’s just that Lord Brighton—”
“We need to tell him right away.”
“You mean, you’ll accept us?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t have much of a choice now, do I? I have no idea what the old Lord will say, but what’s done is done. We’ll have to make the best of it.”
Arching an eyebrow at me, he ran his hand over my hair. “Do ye love him, Mary?”
“You didn’t seem so concerned whether or not I loved Jacob Connelly,” I snapped.
He frowned, a bright-blue vein threatening to burst on his narrow forehead.
Letting out a long, measured breath, I raised my hands in repentance. “Johnny is a good man, and I enjoy his company very much. But I love Dunraven, Da. I love the O’Malleys. And I love you.”
He flashed me a sad smile and stood up to retrieve his hat. “Ye should tidy yerself up then. We should get this over with.”
“Today?”
“Better today than not at all. Ye better brace yeself for Lord Brighton’s wrath. But if there’s a will and statement of intent to marry ye, legally it will have to do. I won’t have my only daughter jilted by some spoiled upstart.”
The maid showed us in to Lord Brighton’s study. Night had already fallen in the thick woods around the castle, the cold wind howling and shaking the windowpanes with a constant drumming. Dunraven always felt more like a fairy castle than an actual place, and even as I stood before the crackling fire framed by the ancient carved mantel, the cold stone walls could never compare to the palace in my mind. Dunraven was more to me than a heap of rocks on a hill; it was my birthright.
When Lord Brighton walked in, my father spilled the details in his calm, even voice. The whole time Brighton sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, elbows planted on the arms of his oversize leather chair.
“So ye see, milord,” Da continued, “as Mary is now Lord Johnny’s fiancée, arrangements must be made with recognizing her legally within the family fold.”
Lord Brighton said nothing but grabbed a sheet of paper from a drawer and scribbled a quick note. Flashing me a sharp glare, he rang a bell on the edge of the desk, and a footman darted into the room. Lord Brighton slipped the letter to him with whispered instructions, and the servant fled without another look.
Brighton walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“Lord Brighton?” Da said, his brow furrowed.
The Lord turned abruptly. “I suppose we should see about those papers. The floorboard beneath his bed? Is that correct, Miss O’Malley?”
“Aye, sir,” I said as demurely as possible. It was the first time he had addressed me directly.
Lord Brighton pulled a chain, and Brian, another footman, breezed into the room with a bow. Grabbing his cane, Brian helped him stand and the old man rattled out of the room. Da and I followed close behind.
“Would you do the honors, Patrick?” He gestured to the bed. “If you and your scheming daughter are to bamboozle our family out of our fortune, you might as well bend down and seek out these mysterious papers.”
Da muttered something about the “scheming daughter” remark, then crouched and felt around beneath the bed for a loose floorboard. He pushed the heavy oak frame aside with his sturdy shoulder, and the bed shifted sideways. Locking his fingers beneath the board, he pried it loose. I leaned down to look, and a wave of relief passed through me. A small wooden box lay in the dusty hidey-hole.
Da pushed away the threads of cobwebs and grasped it with both hands, gingerly handing it to Lord Brighton. He lifted the lid, throwing it back.
A horrible sneer spread across his face, and the old man peered up at us. “Is this some sort of joke?”
My skin prickled at the sound of his icy voice. “Milord?”
He flashed the inside of the box to us.
It was empty.
Chapter Four
My mouth gaped open, my heart pounding. “But he said the papers were there. He told me!”
Lord Brighton made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and turned toward the door.
My fingers clasped around the delicate chain around my neck, and I held it up, Johnny’s ruby ring glittering in the candlelight. “Take a good look!” I shouted. “Johnny gave this to me. He promised himself to me.”
Lord Brighton narrowed his eyes and clattered forward with his cane. He placed the ring in his palm and studied it. His hand snapped shut and with one painful yank, the chain broke and he shook his fist.
“You whoring thief,” he hissed. “Where did you get this?”
“I told you! Johnny—”
He waved to his servant. “Take her to the cellar, Brian.”
I started forward, but the footman grabbed my wrists and pulled me out
of the room as I screamed. “I’m not a thief! Johnny is my fiancé!”
“Lock her up!” Lord Brighton called after us. “We’ll wait for the constable to determine her fate. You’ll hang for this, you little bitch.”
“Mary!” my father cried in a broken voice. “Mary!”
Brian dragged me down the stairs, deep into the bowels of the castle, and threw me into a root cellar. He slammed the door shut, and with a jangle of keys, locked it behind him.
“Let me out of here!” I screamed, kicking the door and shoving my shoulder against it. After a while, my voice grew hoarse and I curled up in the pitch darkness and closed my eyes, fighting back tears of rage.
…
A large hand shook me awake. “Wake up, Mary.”
Jacob’s face came into focus, and I shrank back.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
Jacob crouched down, and he shook his head. “Oh, Mary. What have ye done, lass?”
I glared at him. “Nothing. I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”
“Oh yeah, ye have. Old Lord Brighton’s had a shock. A weak heart that one. He’s not going to last the night.”
Ice water flooded my veins. “You mean he’s dying?”
“Aye. They’re saying ye’ll be tried for murder.”
“That’s nonsense!” I cried. “I’m not to blame for Lord Brighton’s poor health!”
“Maybe, but ye’re still going to hang for what ye done.”
“I’ve done nothing but follow my heart, Jacob Connelly.”
“Follow your whorish appetites, more like.”
I turned away, burying my face into the wall. “Go away if all you’re going to do is insult me.”
“Oh, I’d like to do more than that to ye, Mary. As it stands, I believe ye’re engaged to Johnny Brighton.”
“You do?”
“Aye.” Jacob flashed me a sickening smile. “His servant Brian is a great friend of mine.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “So what of it?”
The Captain's Rebel (Irish Heroines) Page 3