Braiton didn’t sleep a wink all night, envisioning the agony on her face. Forever it would be etched in his brain to haunt him. Maybe ’twas what he deserved.
At sunrise, he made his way to the kitchen and filled a satchel with provisions. Anna, also up early, stepped from the pantry. “Is there anythin’ I can be helpin’ you with, m’lord?”
“Nay, Anna, I have everything I need.”
Anna sighed, coming to stand beside him. “Why are you sendin’ her and the wee one away?”
He continued to fill his pack. “You know perfectly well, why.”
“A man should try his best to never be separated from the woman he loves.”
He met her gaze. “Not even if ’twere to spare her the grief of watching him die?”
Her eyes never wavered. “Nay, m’lord, not even then.”
“‘’Tis a bit of a selfish way of thinking, isn’t it Anna?”
“Nay, ’tis you who is selfish, m’lord, for robbin’ her o’ a choice. She has a right to know the truth. She deserves that much.”
“We don’t always get what we deserve, Anna.” He arched a brow. “Did my mother deserve to die as she did? So young and without dignity.”
“’Twas a sin the way Maureen suffered, but her demise was not in anyone’s power to change. You can change what’s happenin’ now. Lady Raven has a right to choose her own decision, not one you’ve made for her.”
He frowned. “She’s a warmhearted lass who pities a starving dog. Hell and damnation, Anna. You know very well what decision she’ll make?”
“But ’tis hers to make, m’lord.”
“Nay, Anna, I’ll not do that to her. I’m sparing her the grief.”
Anna folded her arms across her chest. “Is it grief you’re sparin’ her or your own pride.”
His face warmed. “I grant you, woman, I’d rather not have her seeing me weak and dependent, but ’tis her sorrow for me I will not place upon her.” He stormed out of the kitchen and to the stables, saddling and mounting Grania. He rode to the hunter’s cottage, where he’d really stay till she left. He’d lied about business in Killarney. He’d lied to her all along.
He stood in the door and looked about the room. His gaze rested on the cot where she lay writhing in pain to give their son life. At the table in the corner, they ate a meal of jarred jam and stale crackers he found in a cupboard. They talked about their childhood, telling stories about the friends they made and the things they did. By dusk, Brawn led Patrick and Dooley to the cottage. Raven and the baby rode comfortably in the bian back to Shannonbrook.
She brought him encouragement, hope, and love. Aye, much love. In all she did, giving life to his son, helping others, there was love. And if his reasoning wasn’t purely out of concern for her, then he’d done her a very big injustice. He’d done an injustice to them all.
Remorse’s tang coated the back of his tongue; he ran outside, fell to his knees, and retched beneath a tree.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anna stood numb in front of the basin, washing each dish. “We cannot allow her to leave, Patty,” she said through her tears. “She and the wee one belong here. We cannot lose another one.” She turned to face her husband, his eyes also brimming with tears. “You know what must be done.”
“Anna, me love, you gave your word.” He took both of her wet hands in his. “’Twas a deathbed vow, to be exact. There’s nothin’ more sacred then keepin’ such a promise.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I can no longer keep silent, Patty. Especially when ’twill destroy so many people’s lives.” She pulled her hands free from his grasp and wiped them on her apron. “I must tell m’lady the truth.”
****
Raven glanced around the bedchamber she had grown to consider hers. To leave Shannonbrook would pierce her heart like a poison arrow. As the memories of the day she arrived flooded her thoughts, she swallowed hard the lump growing in her throat. Now the trunks were all packed with the beautiful clothes he bought for her and everything was ready to go. She spotted the ship tickets lying on the dressing table and reached for them, pressing them to her heart. Soon, she would be far away from the man she loved. Weak with grief, she collapsed to the floor and sobbed.
It was Anna who came beside her, pulling her to her feet and gathering her into a warm embrace, cradling her like a baby.
“There, there, lass,” she comforted, rocking with her back and forth.
“Oh, Anna, he wants me gone,” she choked out through her tears.
Anna stroked her hair. “Nay, he doesn’t want you gone, love. He believes he has to let you go.”
She pulled back to look into the elder woman’s sad eyes. “Is it because of our agreement?”
“Nay, lass, ’tis because he doesn’t want you to watch him die.”
She gasped, the thought tore at her insides. “Braiton is dying? Tell me this cannot be true.”
“Come, lass,” Anna said, leading her over to the bed.
She sat at the edge and wiped the tears with the backs of her hands. “I do not understand, Anna. What is he dying from?”
Anna sighed. “Lady Maureen died of a terrible disease, one that took her father and her grandmother. All o’ them began to experience symptoms not long after they turned thirty. Braiton fears he inherited the family curse.”
“And he just turned thirty,” she said, realizing now why her husband did not want to celebrate his birthday. Suddenly, she understood the reason he looked so tortured and sullen the day she presented him with the compass pouch.
Anna nodded.
A cold knot formed in her stomach. “Oh, Anna, he cannot be dying, he just cannot,” she moaned.
Anna reached for her hands. “Calm yourself, lass.”
“Is there nothing Terrance can do for him?”
“He isn’t dying, m’lady.”
She blinked, baffled. “But you just said his mother…and the rest of the family all—”
“Lady Maureen ’tisn’t his mother,” Anna interjected with a whisper.
She frowned. “Now, I really do not understand.”
Anna arched a brow. “Aye, well, ’tis a wee bit complicated.”
“Then who is his mother?” There was a long, brittle silence.
“Me daughter, Aubrey,” Anna finally confessed.
Her eyes widened. “Your daughter?”
Anna sighed again. “Aye, she was me only little girl, me sweet Aubrey Rose. ’Twas the stars in her father’s eyes, she was. When she and Broderick were just wee ones, I took care o’ them together. They grew close, like siblin’s, so I thought. Then by the time they turned fourteen, things changed. They saw each other in a different light, and one day Broderick’s mother, Lady Cora, caught the two o’ them smoochin’ behind the stables. Within a week Broderick was gone, sent away to school in Dublin.”
“What happened to Aubrey?”
“She moped around like a sick pup, hadn’t much o’ an appetite and didn’t laugh anymore.” Anna’s eyes filled with tears. “The whole thing to watch was heart breakin’. Seven long years passed, and durin’ that time, me Aubrey turned down many a marriage proposal. I knew she was waitin’ for Broderick to return, hopin’ when he did he’d declare his love and wed her.”
“But instead he returned with a new love,” she surmised.
“Aye, m’lady, ’tis the truth of it. His father, Nolan Shannon died and Lady Cora, beside herself with grief, sent for Broderick. Upon his arrival he brought with him his intended.”
“He was engaged to wed Maureen?”
“Aye, he was, and me Aubrey’s heart was broken. She grieved so, the day o’ Broderick’s nuptials, even tried to take her own life by jumpin’ into the Shannon River. If ’tweren’t for Clancey, the grounds keeper, comin’ upon her when he did, she would’ve succeeded.” Anna wiped her tears with the hem of her apron.
“Lady Maureen was never a hardy sort, always pale and fragile. She was prone to faintin’ spells and most o’ what she ate si
ckened her stomach. About six months into the marriage she became with child, but lost it three months later. The next year she had two miscarriages. The last left her bed bound for months after, ’twasn’t able to do much o’ anythin’. Broderick grew restless. Watchin’ Aubrey work about Shannonbrook, all healthy and vibrant, gave him ideas no married man has the right o’ havin’.”
She smiled. “Aubrey was a beautiful lass, turned many heads with her flowin’ red hair and large, green eyes—”
“Just like Braiton’s,” she interjected.
“Aye, the same,” Anna agreed. “Broderick’s heart desired her, and bein’ she was still in love with him, it didn’t take much for them to get themselves into a compromisin’ situation. Not long after, Aubrey discovered she was with child.”
“Where is Aubrey now, Anna?”
Anna lowered her gaze to the hands she held clasped in her lap. “She died givin’ birth to Braiton, m’lady.”
She covered Anna’s hands with her own. “I am so sorry, Anna.”
Anna raised her gaze. “I am, too, m’lady.”
“What happened then?”
“Lady Maureen was a smart women, knew what was goin’ on. I think she turned a blind eye because she couldn’t be the wife Broderick needed. When Aubrey died, I went to her with wee Braiton, laid him beside her. Knowin’ she would never sire an heir to Shannonbrook, she took the babe and raised him like her own.” She tipped her head sideways. “I believe ’twas then she won back Broderick’s heart and respect. He watched her with Braiton. The love she shelled out upon the wee lad was heart warmin’. For a tad, Shannonbrook ran smooth and all the people residing here. Then when Braiton was four, Lady Cora, her mind growin’ idle, set her bedchamber on fire. She perished in the blaze, leavin’ half o’ the old mansion uninhabitable.
“Broderick ordered the new mansion built and within a year’s time the family was able to move. But ’twasn’t long after Maureen’s disease took hold of her, tormentin’ her for the next six years. By the time she was thirty-six, she was gone. On her deathbed she made me vow never to reveal to Braiton she was not his mother.”
“And what became of Broderick?”
“After Lady Maureen died, Broderick was into his cups more than out. Didn’t go along on his business voyages anymore, sent Molly and her husband Chauncey, who was captain at that time, on without him. The poor man drank himself into an early grave.”
“And so you and Patrick, Braiton’s grandparents, stayed on for his sake?”
“Aye, m’lady, that we did. He was such a young lad, just turned twenty and had so much responsibility to bear. ’Twas me Patrick who helped him run the place in those early days, like a granddad would. Later, Broderick’s old time friend, Shamus O’Neill lent a hand. Bein’ a business man himself, he mentored Braiton, taught him how to handle the shippin’ business.”
“I am sorry, you and Patrick have had to keep your relationship to Braiton quiet all these years. I remember the times I enjoyed with my own grandmother, White Dove. My heart goes out to Braiton as well, for not knowing the same pleasure. But now he is a man, do you not believe he deserves the truth?”
“If ’twere made known, he’d be shunned by society, called a bastard, lose his title, and would not have inherited Maureen’s fortune. Though Broderick’s business flourished, ’twas Maureen’s money that got it started.”
She frowned. “So all the hell my husband’s been through, thinking he is her blood child and would die as she died, was all for the sake of money?”
Anna nodded. “’Tis the way with those o’ means, m’lady. And there was Maureen’s brother’s son, five years older than Braiton, still alive. M’lord would have lost everythin’ to him.”
“Where does Maureen’s nephew live, Anna?”
“When he did live, m’lady, ’twas in Dublin, where Maureen’s family is from. But recently he died. Molly’s son, Michael, has a congregation in Dublin and knew of the man. He sent us word o’ his death just before Braiton sailed for America. When m’lord returned with a wife, I believed he made peace with his notion o' dyin’.”
“And you saw no reason to tell him Maureen was not his mother,” she concluded.
“Aye, m’lady…until now.”
She took an audible breath. “And all this time I believed I was too damaged for him to—” the words stuck in her throat. “You see, Anna, on the reservation I was taken against my will.”
“Aye, m’lady, me sister told me, and o’ the miscarriage aboard ship. There’s not much we keep from each other, but be rest assured. Your secret will go no farther than me and Molly’s ears. We only wag our tongues between one another.” She leaned closer and whispered. “Not even me Patrick knows, and Dr. Murphy never talks about what ails those he treats.”
“Then Molly must have also told you about the Sea Patrol and why Braiton really married me.”
Anna nodded. “Perhaps ’twas the reason in the beginnin’, but I’ve seen how he looks at you, how his face brightens when you walk into the room. M’lord has nothin’ but the highest regard for you.” She smiled and added. “We all do, m’lady.”
The highest regard, but not love. “Then if what you say is true, Anna, and he is not ashamed of my past, why does he still want me gone?”
“’Twas not you he’s ashamed o’, never was, m’lady. ’Tis more how he believes he’ll succumb to the illness. He wanted to spare you seein’ him in the condition he saw his mother.” Again, she smiled. “A man who cares deeply for a woman cannot bear to see her in pain.”
“Then I am not so sure he would even believe you, Anna. He will think you are just trying to change his mind about sending me and Casey to England.”
Anna’s face brightened. “But I have proof, m’lady. Lady Maureen left a diary, and in it she tells o’ the night Braiton was born. After her death, I went lookin’ for the journal, thought it best I put it aside for Braiton to one day read. But before I could take it, Broderick locked it away in a trunk, which is stored still at the old Shannonbrook ruins. All these years I’ve not been able to find the key.”
“Anna, I think I know where the key is,” she said, rising from the bed and making her way to the large armoire.
Anna stood and followed her. “How is that possible, m’lady?”
She opened the double entry and pushed aside the mirror hanging on the back of the right door, revealing a secret compartment. She stuck her hand inside and pulled out a key for Anna to see.
“Could this be the one you are looking for?”
Anna examined the key. “Aye, m’lady, I’m sure ’tis the one.” She frowned “But how did you come by this secret place?”
“One day, not long after I arrived at Shannonbrook, I was admiring the flowers etched along the mirror. As I traced their imprint with the tip of my finger, the mirror moved. Upon a further look, I discovered the compartment and the key. But not wanting to be caught snooping, I replaced it and kept the secret to myself.” She smiled and took the key from the elder woman. “Now tell me, Anna, exactly where can I find the trunk?”
****
Ireland’s crisp autumn air stung Braiton’s face as he pushed Grania hard. Never would he run her this way for fear he’d make her lame, but this morning he needed to be at the pier before The Donahue sailed. He thought of Anna’s words all night and decided he couldn’t let Raven leave, not without her knowing the truth. She deserved that much from him. Now, he prayed he wouldn’t be too late to intercept her departure and beg for her forgiveness. All he wanted was to take his family home.
He dismounted and ran to the edge of the dock, spotting what he knew to be The Donahue already out to sea. He was too late. Raven and his son were gone.
He rode back to Shannonbrook enveloped in a shroud of sadness. Upon entering the clearing, the ruins of the old mansion loomed ahead. It was a constant reminder of days better left forgotten. If I only could forget, wipe the slate clean and start over.
He would love her like no man ev
er loved a woman. She was his rapture, the sun shining on a cold day warming his heart and everything she surrounded. He knew the emptiness; the loneliness he felt before she came into his life would be double hard to bear now. He’d tasted her love, basked in its rays, and he’d never be the same again.
He slowed Grania and studied the old building. His heart swelled with anger for the legacy he’d been left. He was weary of the grip it had on him, controlling his every move. Digging his heels into his mount, he rode to the groundskeeper’s cottage.
Clancey sat on a stump, enjoying an apple when he rode up. The other man stood. “What can I be doin’ for you this mornin’, m’lord?”
Braiton pointed to the ruins. “Clancey, my man, I’m sick to death of that eyesore blocking my view of the river. I want it leveled. Gather Kelly, Shelby, and some of the other men and have a go at it.”
Clancey took a bite of his apple. “The only way we can get her down, is to burn the rest o’ her, m’lord.”
“Then do it, Clancey. Burn it all to the ground!”
****
The stairs squeaked, as did the family of rats dwelling in a corner. Torn, faded tapestries, at one time priceless, hung on the wall. Raven held the lantern high, stepping with care over loose slabs of stone and other debris littering the floor. She made her way to the last bedchamber on the left, where Anna said she would find Maureen’s trunk.
The chamber door hung from its hinge, and when she pushed it aside, it fell with a bang. Dust blew everywhere. She coughed and glanced around the cold, dark room. A winged back chair lay broken to one side of the fireplace along with an old wash basin. Faded, gold drapes hung frayed and stained from the veranda doors. A rug was rolled up to one side, thick with cob webs. In a far corner, hidden partially by a broken full length mirror, she spied the trunk.
Making her way through the mess, she knelt in front of the coffer and placed the lantern on the floor beside her. Her fingers trembled as she turned the key in the lock and opened the lid. More dust flew, this time in her face. She rubbed the grime from her eyes, then reached for the lantern, holding it high over the trunk. With her other hand, she pushed aside the mildewed gowns and flowered hats, searching for the diary. At the bottom of the trunk she found the leather bound journal and pulled it free from its hiding place. She sat back and held it to her heart. Between its pages was the key to unlock Braiton’s prison.
One Perfect Flower Page 29