Destiny's Path

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about the estate, the cottages in the village, repairs, everything really. The place is looking – well, very run down.’ He waited.

  John sighed. ‘I’m sorry about that, Mr Ronan,’ he said. ‘I mean, Mr Maguire. I tried to get things done, really I did, but Mr Hubert would never spend money if he could help it, even on important repairs. I’ve done what I could, managed to stop the cottages falling down, but that was all.’

  ‘I’m not blaming you. I know my father was a bad landlord and it seems Hubert followed suit. But I mean to do better. I think there’s too much work for a man of your age, so would you mind if I took on a deputy land agent? He and I could both come to you for help, but you could take things more easily. Then, once you’re ready to retire – and you don’t need to do that till you want – I’ll continue paying you your wages and—’

  ‘I couldn’t take money I’d not earned, sir. It wouldn’t be right. Though I would be grateful if you could pay me the wages owing.’

  ‘You haven’t been paid?’

  ‘No, sir. Quite a few people haven’t.’

  ‘What did Hubert do with the money?’ He bit off further words out of loyalty to his brother. ‘You’ve given your life to this estate, John Devlin, so I’ll pay you as soon as I can, and make sure you’re comfortable when you retire.’

  The older man gave a weary sigh. ‘I doubt I’ll make old bones, sir, so I’ll not be a burden on you for long. It’s my wife I’m worried about, after I’m gone.’

  ‘I’ll see that she’s all right, too. But don’t talk about dying. Talk about getting better. I can’t do without you. No one knows the estate like you do. I’m bound to need your advice about all sorts of things. I’m very ignorant because I never took an interest.’ He saw John’s face brighten and was pleased by that. ‘Now, do you have any idea who could act as your deputy?’

  ‘Well . . . yes, I do. Brian Cahill, Peter’s youngest. He’s a sensible fellow. Not fancy spoken or anything, but he knows the estate and he’s been helping me out a bit.’

  ‘I’ll send for him at once, then. Or perhaps you’d like to speak to him at first?’ He smiled at John and said coaxingly, ‘See if you don’t get well again now I’m back. I’m going to insist on it.’

  His land agent laughed. ‘You could always cajole people into doing what you wanted, even as a lad.’

  Could he? Ronan wondered as he walked away. He wasn’t sure about that. Xanthe had a mind of her own, and the local ladies here had their own ways and standards too. He knew they wouldn’t approve of his marriage plans. Could he cajole them into accepting her?

  There was going to be a lot to sort out during the next few days, what with inspections, discussions and long talks to both John and Brian, but first he had to see the lawyer about his inheritance, find out how much money there was and where it was kept. He needed to make a start on repairs before the worst of the winter weather.

  The day after her arrival in Outham Xanthe woke to almost-clear skies and a freshly washed world that made her itch to go outside. It wasn’t warm, not at this time of year, and full winter would soon be upon them, but it was bright and clear. After an early breakfast with her sister and brother-in-law she went for a long walk round the town, meeting people she’d known in the old days.

  At a more acceptable hour, she went to call on the Minister’s wife. Phoebe Rainey had helped her and her sisters in many ways in the old days, and was the first on her list for visiting.

  Xanthe enjoyed a pleasant hour with her old friend and found herself elevated now to calling the Minister’s wife Phoebe. She shared all the news from Australia and only when it came to her own plans was she more reticent.

  As the hours passed, she kept wondering what Ronan was doing today. Had he found his inheritance in good condition? Did he still care about her? Were matchmaking mothers already descending on him?

  To Xanthe’s surprise and then amusement, she found herself the target of matchmaking. After the first Sunday service she was hemmed in by people wanting to talk to her. The sisters or mothers of young men she had grown up with or met at chapel, her former neighbours, so many people were waiting to speak to her. She was invited to visit them, they spoke casually of ‘our Henry’ or ‘our Robert’ and she didn’t dare say she already had a ‘fellow’ – because she didn’t know for certain that she did have Ronan.

  Pandora was also amused by this but she saw it as a test. ‘Go and visit them,’ she whispered. ‘Meet their brothers and sons. See if you’re attracted to any of them, or whether your feelings for Ronan hold strong.’

  ‘I won’t be attracted and my feelings won’t change.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘How did you know you loved Zachary? From what you told me, it didn’t take you long.’

  ‘That’s different. We were thrown together on the journey so we got to know one another more quickly than usual.’

  ‘And you think Ronan and I weren’t thrown together on the journey?’

  ‘You didn’t – do anything wrong!’

  ‘If you mean what I think, no, I didn’t give myself to him.’ She almost wished she had, then he’d feel compelled to marry her straight away instead of delaying and worrying about how happy she’d be in his milieu. She pushed those thoughts away again. ‘Anyway, I shall be bored to tears if I go and take tea with everyone who’s invited me.’

  ‘Do it for me, then. I don’t really like the thought of you marrying so far above you. It won’t work out, I know it won’t. I want you to be as happy as I am with Zachary.’

  Why was everyone so certain that Ronan wasn’t the right man for her? Xanthe wondered. Surely when two people loved one another, they could overcome their differences. It wasn’t as if he lacked money to support her or she was badly educated, and didn’t know how to use a knife and fork. Thanks to Mrs Largan her table manners were impeccable and her former mistress’s reminiscences had given her a fair idea of how to conduct herself in society.

  She found things to fill her days, but whatever she did, she missed Ronan dreadfully! He was in her thoughts so often, she’d not have been surprised to see him walking beside her.

  When he went into the family lawyer’s office in Enniskillen, Ronan was greeted by an unsmiling Mr Hatton, who exchanged brief greetings with his client, gestured to a seat and pulled a pile of papers towards him with a sigh.

  ‘I’ve had copies made of all the main documents and accounts, which I’ll give you before you leave, but if I may sum up the situation?’

  At Ronan’s nod, he continued, ‘I’m sorry to tell you that your father didn’t leave the estate in a sound position financially. As you know, he enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and . . . well, he gambled at times, not hugely, but enough to make serious inroads into the family’s reserves of money. In short, he acted as if he was a very wealthy man to whom money didn’t matter, but although he was comfortably circumstanced when he inherited, he was by no means wealthy – and grew poorer over the years.

  ‘Your brother found matters in confusion when he inherited because I had not been consulted by your father about certain business arrangements. Hubert was determined to rebuild the family fortunes, but he too made several unwise investments, one in a bank which failed, and another more recently in a ship which was lost at sea. He – um – remained overly optimistic about recouping the family fortunes and took risks that I did advise against, believe me.’

  His shudder as he revealed this convinced Ronan more than words could ever have done.

  Squaring his shoulders, the lawyer took a deep breath and added, ‘What’s more, I’m sorry to say this but if you too are inclined to gamble, I shall have to ask you to find another lawyer because I don’t wish to be involved in your losing the family estate.’ He folded his arms across his narrow chest and waited, his expression grave.

  Ronan was lost for words and for a few seconds could only stare at him and try to take in what he’d been told. After a few moments, he manag
ed to say, ‘I’m not a gambler, Mr Hatton, and I’m not reckless with money. My own inheritance is not only intact but has, I believe, grown over the years. I can give you the name of the lawyer who handled my great-aunt’s estate if you wish to check that. I’d be grateful if you’d remain our family lawyer, and believe me, I shall be grateful for your advice and I promise to heed it most carefully.’

  After studying him for a moment or two Mr Hatton inclined his head. ‘Then perhaps we may save the estate – in time, given stringently careful management.’

  ‘Are things that bad?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. There are creditors, some of them local tradesmen, who have been waiting only for your arrival to present their accounts and demand payment – usually long-overdue. And some of the servants’ wages haven’t been paid for a while.’

  ‘I had no idea it was so bad! How long has this been going on?’

  ‘For several years.’

  ‘Why did Hubert not say something?’

  ‘He believed he could retrieve the situation.’

  ‘The creditors must be paid first, of course, before I start any renovations.’

  ‘If you wish.’

  When they’d gone through the figures and agreed on the next steps to be taken, Ronan prepared to take his leave. Mr Hatton held up one hand to stop him and cleared his throat before saying, ‘There is one way to re-establish your fortunes quickly and that is to marry an heiress.’

  Ronan could feel his face go rigid. ‘I don’t think I can bring myself to do that, Mr Hatton. I am – er, in love with a young lady and we’ve spoken of marriage.’

  ‘Ah. May I ask if she brings any money to the match?’

  ‘A little, a thousand or two, I believe, and not all of it is immediately available.’

  The lawyer looked at him scornfully. ‘That wouldn’t be nearly enough. You should give the matter of a suitable wife your serious consideration. Your first duty is to your family estate. As it happens, I am acquainted with a certain gentleman who has risen in the world and is anxious to establish his daughter among the gentry. I could introduce you and—’

  Ronan shook his head. ‘No. I’m deeply in love and I just – couldn’t do that.’ He might not be able to marry Xanthe now – for how could he ask her to live in poverty while he struggled to build up the estate again? – but she had spoiled him for other women.

  ‘But you are not yet engaged to her?’

  ‘No. We agreed to wait until after I’d seen how things stood at Ardgullan.’

  Mr Hatton shuffled the papers together. ‘You should, in all fairness to her, hold back until we see exactly how matters stand.’

  When he got home, Ronan thought long and hard, then came to the conclusion that he must write to Xanthe, explaining the situation and offering to release her from any promises – if she considered they’d made promises to one another. He wasn’t even sure of that. Judging by the lawyer’s long face and head shaking, it might be years before he was even in a position to take a wife.

  He could walk away from this unwanted inheritance and live perfectly comfortably on his own money, marry even, but his conscience wouldn’t let him do that. He was the landowner. People’s lives depended on him running Ardgullan efficiently. And if he had to plough his inheritance into it to save the estate, then he must do so.

  But duty was a cold bedfellow.

  A few days later Zachary came upstairs just after the shop opened, carrying a letter. He held it out to Xanthe. ‘This came for you in the post. I think it must be from Ronan. Who else could be writing to you from Ireland?’

  She took the letter from him, nodding and smiling as she recognised the handwriting. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll open it in my room.’

  When she’d gone, Zachary and Pandora exchanged glances. ‘I hope it’s good news,’ she said softly. ‘She tries not to show it, but she’s fretting for him.’

  In her bedroom Xanthe stared at the envelope, wondering if Ronan was going to be noble again and worry about making her happy? If so, she’d have to do something about it. It wasn’t in her nature just to wait around for someone else to decide what was good for her or what was bad.

  Taking a deep breath and hoping for the best, she opened the envelope carefully, spreading the single sheet of paper out on her dressing table.

  My dearest Xanthe

  I’ve come home to find things in a very bad way, the money gone, the estate run down, debts piled up. I’m not even sure whether I’ll be able to keep Ardgullan once I’ve paid everything off.

  Therefore, with the deepest regret, I feel I can’t hold you to any promises. A man can’t marry if he hasn’t got a home to offer to his wife and family. You must consider yourself free to meet and marry someone else.

  My regret runs very deep but my duty is clear.

  With all my love

  Ronan

  She read the letter again, hearing his voice saying the words, sensing the anguish behind them. Then she sat down by the window, wondering what she was going to do.

  One thing was certain. She wasn’t going to let him be noble about this and ruin both their lives. There was no other man for her, she was quite certain of that, and she knew he loved her. She needed to find out more details about his situation, work out if she’d be a help or a hindrance to him.

  There was no getting away from it: she needed to see him, talk to him, get to know Ardgullan!

  Once he’d sent the letter to Xanthe, Ronan spent a sleepless night before sending a message to Mr Hatton that given his circumstances he’d ended his connection with the young lady from Australia and for the sake of his family estate, would be interested in meeting suitable young women – though he didn’t wish to raise any false hopes and could promise nothing at this stage.

  He received a letter back by return post, suggesting he come to Enniskillen and discuss Miss Georgina Johnson, daughter of a very rich, self-made man, who was a very amiable young lady.

  Ronan wrote back quickly, before he could change his mind, to say he’d come the following day. Then he spent a sleepless night dreaming of Xanthe.

  Was it fair to any young lady, he wondered, to marry when his heart was given to another?

  When he arrived, he found to his surprise that Mr Hatton had already arranged a meeting.

  ‘You said “discuss”. Why are you trying to rush me into this?’

  The lawyer looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Mr Johnson can be very – persuasive and he’s eager for his daughter to marry into the landed gentry. She’s been – difficult to persuade and has refused other offers.’

  ‘Then why should she consider me?’

  ‘I think her father is pressing her hard. And I must stress that she’s only considering you at the moment. So it would do no harm for you both to meet.’

  Although it was a chilly day, after he’d left the lawyer’s rooms, Ronan went for a walk along the lough, ending up, as he always did, at the castle with its twin towers. Long ago the junior branch of his family had ruled from that castle. He smiled. He was from an even more junior branch of the Maguires, but still, the castle had been the inspiration for his boyish imagination. He’d dreamed of being a knight there, rescuing fair maidens and wielding a gleaming sword.

  A troop of soldiers marched by from the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, on their way to the barracks. This was one of two regiments who took their name from the town and the sight of them brought him suddenly back to reality. He was no knight in shining armour, just a man struggling to save his family estate.

  That afternoon he went to tea at the Johnsons’. He took an instant dislike to Mr Johnson, but was pleasantly surprised by his daughter. Georgina wasn’t beautiful but had a fresh, honest face.

  Mr Johnson pulled out his pocket watch a few times and declared that he must return to his office. His sister-in-law, Miss Lawson, who was acting as chaperone to her niece, escorted him to the door, which left Ronan alone with Georgina for a few minutes.

  ‘You don’t reall
y want to marry me, do you?’ she asked abruptly.

  He was surprised by this question, but tried to answer it honestly. ‘I can’t afford to marry for love, but you can be sure that I’d respect you and treat you kindly.’

  ‘Which is more than my father does,’ she said bitterly. ‘I will – consider this seriously.’

  He thought she looked deeply unhappy but before he could ask her to tell him why she was so reluctant to marry, her chaperone returned.

  After a few more minutes Ronan took his leave.

  He’d expected to dislike Georgina Johnson, but he didn’t.

  It wasn’t the same as loving someone, though. Could he really bring himself to marry her?

  Maia had never been so happy in her life. Nancy seemed to accept her new status. Maia was not only sleeping with Conn but spending the evenings with him in the small sitting room.

  Sean and the other servants also treated Maia with as much respect as they always had.

  And there was Conn, always Conn, smiling at her, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he passed, chatting to her in the evenings, loving her in bed.

  Then she went to church that first Sunday. They’d planned to do this in the same way as they always had. She’d take her place with the other servants while Conn sat with the gentry. They were a little late but people were still chatting outside, something they did both before and after the service.

  When Maia greeted a neighbour, the mother of one of the stable boys, the woman turned away without responding and one by one, other women did the same. She stood there feeling her cheeks burning at the thoroughness of the snub. Except for Livia and her sister, who had driven across to attend the service, all the women in the congregation had made it plain that they did not intend to associate with her any longer.

  They knew!

  She walked inside the barn with her sister, feeling wobbly and afraid.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Cassandra asked as they sat down. ‘Why are people treating you like a pariah?’

  Face burning, Maia bent over her hymnbook. ‘I’ll tell you afterwards. Have you time to come and visit us for an hour or two?’