by Anna Jacobs
Xanthe continued to feel anxious about Ronan as she and Hallie made their preparations to travel to Ireland. She didn’t know why she felt they had to hurry, but she did, and very strongly.
She didn’t want to upset Zachary, who only had her best interests at heart, but his interference and fussing slowed down their preparations by a couple of days at least.
In the end, however, her brother-in-law could think of nothing else to check or arrange, so he escorted her and Hallie to the station very early one morning and saw them on the first train. As it began to pull slowly away from the station, he stood waving goodbye till he was lost in a cloud of steam blowing back from the engine.
Xanthe leaned her head against the seat with a sigh of relief. ‘I don’t want to upset you, but your brother’s a fusspot.’
‘Zachary needs to look after people,’ Hallie said apologetically. ‘He’s always been very protective about his family.’
‘I know. I shouldn’t complain really. Anyway, we’re on our way now.’
They changed trains in Manchester, going to Liverpool, from where they took the packet to Dublin.
‘See,’ Xanthe said. ‘We’re coping perfectly well without a man to do all this for us.’
One of the stewards described the sea as ‘lively’ but neither of them suffered any seasickness. Hallie was fascinated by her first sight of the sea and could not be persuaded to go below deck for long as she wanted to look out over the water.
In Dublin they rested, tired by their journey, but though Hallie pleaded to spend an extra day or two looking round the city, Xanthe refused, insisting on pressing on.
They could only go as far as Enniskillen by train and had to spend a night there before their hired carriage came to carry them to the small village near to which Ardgullan House was situated. That day the weather, which had been cold but fine, turned rainy and they made slow progress on the muddy roads.
Xanthe continued to worry about Ronan. What was he doing? Why did she feel so strongly that he was in trouble?
As they came to a small lake, which they’d already learned was called a lough here, the coachman slowed down to shout to them, ‘The village is on the other side, but the big house standing on that small promontory is the place you want. You can see the standing stones at the top of the slope. That’s how it got the name Ardgullan House, from the stones being high up on the promontory.’
The village was on the far side of the house, so Xanthe had a clear view of it. As she watched, another carriage came from a different direction and turned into the gates, looking like a toy in the distance. Who was visiting Ronan? She hoped they’d conduct their business quickly because she wanted to see him, feel his arms round her and make him see sense about marrying her.
When they came to the gates, they found them open and no signs of anyone coming out of the gatekeeper’s cottage to ask their business. To the right, about a hundred yards down the drive was a pretty house and she guessed this would be where his mother had lived. It looked closed up now, all the curtains drawn and the garden bare and wintry.
At long last they drew to a halt in front of the big house, a neat square of grey stone, with a portico over the front door.
The coachman’s lad jumped down and went up to knock on the front door.
Xanthe didn’t intend to sit waiting in the carriage, so opened the door herself and jumped down, hurrying up the steps just as the door was opened by a pleasant-faced woman.
‘I’m here to see Mr Maguire,’ she said before the coachman’s lad could speak.
The woman looked at her in puzzlement, then beyond her to where Hallie was still sitting in the carriage. ‘Is he expecting you?’
‘No. But I know him from Australia and he knows my family.’
‘He’s busy at the moment, I’m afraid, talking to his lawyer and the Johnsons.’
‘Can you just tell him I’m here? I’m sure he’ll want to see me.’
After a hesitation, the woman said, ‘I daren’t interrupt. I think they’re arranging his marriage. She’s a rich young lady and the estate’s in a bad way. So if you could come back another day, miss, it’d be much better? It really is a bad time to visit him.’
21
The journey to Fremantle seemed to take for ever. In the back of the cart Kathleen continued to shriek and yell until her voice was hoarse. Conn’s throat ached just from listening to her.
‘She’s in a very bad way,’ Leo said. ‘If she was a horse, we’d have to put her down.’
‘You can’t put people down like you do animals.’
‘I know, but I don’t think they’ll be able to cure her. She’ll have to go into that lunatic asylum to be looked after.’ After a pause, he added in a gruff voice, ‘My stepfather used to threaten to send me to the lunatic asylum and that made my mother cry.’
‘Why would he do that? You’re not mad.’
‘No, but I’m slow-thinking and that annoys some people. I know it annoyed him. And he didn’t like to see his stepson working with the horses like a servant.’ He sighed. ‘I hope my mother is happy. I think about her a lot.’
‘Would you like me to write her a letter for you?’
Leo sat frowning, then shook his head. ‘He’d hide it and she wouldn’t know I’d written.’
‘Does she have a friend you could write to? He’d not be able to stop her getting the letter then.’
It took a few minutes for this idea to sink in, then Leo nodded several times, looking excited. ‘Yes, yes! We could send a letter to Mrs Farsham in the village. The vicar’s wife. Yes, she’ll tell my mother. I heard her say once that she doesn’t like my stepfather.’ He beamed at Conn. ‘Will you do that for me, write the letter?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Thank you.’ Leo brushed a tear from his cheek.
‘Your mother may even write back to you, then Livia or I could read it to you whenever you wanted.’
Leo’s voice got even gruffer. ‘I’d like that. I’d keep her letter very safe.’
They drove on in silence for another mile or two, then he said, as if carrying on his former conversation, ‘I thought Mrs Kathleen might get better if she worked with the horses, because she loves them, but she kept getting worse. Later I got scared she’d hurt them when she flew into a rage so I wouldn’t let her go near them without me. She got very angry about that and said I had to obey her because she was a lady. But she didn’t act like a lady. And I won’t let anyone hurt another living creature, whoever they are.’
When they began to pass through more settled areas, Conn worried that his wife might start screaming again and people think they were ill-treating her, but fortunately she stayed asleep. Perhaps the slow rocking of the cart and the sound of the harness jingling had lulled her. Whatever it was, he felt relieved not to have to listen to that dreadful screaming and cursing.
‘I was right. We shan’t be able to reach Fremantle in one day,’ he said as they stopped to rest and water the horses. ‘It’s a good thing we brought blankets and supplies. In another hour or two we’ll start looking for somewhere to camp overnight.’
There were sounds from the cart and then Kathleen began to heave about, tossing off the blankets. When she couldn’t get free, she began screaming again, shrieking that they should set her free and calling out for help. They went to check on her only to find she’d soiled herself. Conn shuddered.
‘I’ll clean her,’ Leo said. ‘I don’t mind. I do it for the horses.’
‘You’d better leave her lower clothes off if she’s going to do this. We’ll put them on again before we get to Fremantle.’
When Leo touched her Kathleen stopped screaming and instead tried to persuade him to make love to her. It was horrifying, grotesque, making Conn feel sick with disgust.
Then another cart came up to them and as Leo covered her with a blanket, she started screaming for help again. The man driving it reined in to gape at them in shock. The woman beside him clasped his arm, looking afr
aid, and the man sitting in the back took up his rifle, holding it in a threatening way.
‘What’s happening?’ the driver asked. ‘Why is that woman screaming?’
It was hard to say the words out loud, but Conn knew he had to get used to it. ‘She’s gone mad. She’s my wife. We’re taking her to the new lunatic asylum in Fremantle because we can’t control her.’
‘I’m not mad,’ Kathleen called. ‘And I’m not his wife. They’ve kidnapped me. Help me! Please help me!’
‘She doesn’t sound mad,’ the man with the rifle said.
‘She’s very cunning.’
Kathleen managed to kick off the blanket covering her and the woman on the other cart gave a little scream and averted her eyes.
Just as Conn was desperately trying to think how to convince them he was telling the truth, Kathleen suddenly changed her tone and began offering herself to the newcomers in a voice hoarse from screaming.
Leo picked up the blanket and tied it round her with a rope this time.
‘I’m sorry,’ the driver said. ‘She is cunning, isn’t she? She nearly had us fooled. It must be hard for you.’
‘It is. Very hard.’ Conn unclenched his fists only with an effort. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been troubled.’
‘We’ll let people know you’re coming,’ the driver said. ‘It may make it easier for you if she starts claiming you’ve kidnapped her.’
‘Thank you.’
When they’d gone Conn covered his face with his hands for a moment or two, trying to pull himself together.
What he’d do if they refused to take her at the asylum, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Livia hadn’t realised how much she relied on Leo to do the hard work about the place, not to mention simply being there, cheerful and willing, until she had to cope without him.
‘He’s a nice fellow, Leo, isn’t he?’ Orla said, echoing her thoughts. ‘Always smiling and works hard without needing telling. I miss him.’
‘Yes. It’s going to be difficult to look after the horses without him.’
‘I don’t know much about caring for horses.’
‘I do.’
‘Then I’ll take over inside the house, if you like? I can cook and wash and clean for you now Mrs Kathleen’s not here to stop me.’
‘That’d be a big help.’
Orla’s eyes gleamed and she added, ‘Now that she’s gone, we can put her things in the big tent and I can give that bedroom a good bottoming. She wasn’t very clean in herself.’
‘You may as well sleep there now.’
Tears came into Orla’s eyes. ‘You’d let me sleep in a room of my own?’
‘Yes, of course. You have to sleep somewhere. It can’t be pleasant sleeping out in the tent, even though the nights aren’t cold at this time of year.’
‘Summer’s very hot here, isn’t it?’ Orla said. ‘I’ve never seen such sunshine. I like it though.’
‘I’ll go down to the stables, then.’ But Livia found the work harder than she’d expected. She fed the horses and mucked out the stables as best she could, wishing there were someone to talk to. Occasionally she stopped because she imagined she could hear Francis’s voice calling to her and that upset her.
Later in the afternoon she heard the crunching of leaves and the occasional cracking of a twig being stepped on and stopped work again. It took her a few moments to realise that the footsteps were real. Suddenly nervous, she peeped out of the stable to see who it was. To her relief it was Reece striding briskly along the bush path that joined the two properties. She called out to him and he turned towards the stables.
‘Livia! Are you all right? I thought you’d like to know that we got Kathleen to Galway House safely. Conn and Leo are taking her up to Fremantle.’ He took the shovel out of her hand. ‘Let me finish this for you. It’s not suitable work for a lady. Why don’t you hire the Bronsons’ middle lad for a few days to do this sort of job till Leo gets back?’
She hesitated, then nodded and handed over the shovel to Reece. Short as she was of money, today’s struggles had convinced her yet again that she wasn’t cut out to be a farmer’s wife – not that she needed convincing.
As she walked slowly up the slope, she thought ruefully that she’d come here to follow her husband’s dream, not her own. Her dreams had been of a home and family, but she’d never got with child – well, Francis had never been very ardent. And he’d been a child himself, in some ways, a wilful, playful man who had brought happiness into what had been a very dull life for her, but had given her no stability.
After a few years of marriage, knowing Francis might not have more than a year or two to live, she’d agreed to follow yet another of his dreams and come to Australia. But like all the others, this one had remained a mirage and never come true.
Ah, but he’d made such beautiful dreams! And she’d loved him dearly, for all his faults.
After his death, however, reality had set in and she knew she had to do something different with her life. But what? She felt so drained and weary after nursing him for so long, she couldn’t seem to reach any decisions about her future, let alone make definite plans. All she wanted was to rest and live quietly for a while.
She’d thought having Kathleen to stay would give her a breathing space and money to live on, but her lodger had only brought more anxiety and trouble.
She realised she’d stopped walking but didn’t move yet, continuing to look at the small wooden house. At least there was one good outcome from Kathleen’s visit. Reece and the other men had built her a second bedroom on the side of the little wooden house. The new planks of its exterior were still fresh and warmly coloured, unlike the silver-grey of the old, unpainted wood. Perhaps when she tried to sell the farm, that extra room would make it more attractive to families.
She’d have to sell it, of course she would, but she was terrified of going out into the world on her own. She hadn’t advertised the farm for sale yet in the newspaper, because she knew Reece and Cassandra wanted to buy it.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Southerham?’
Orla’s voice brought her out of her reverie. ‘What? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about something. Let’s make a cup of tea, shall we? I’m sure we could both do with a sit-down.’
As her words sank in, Xanthe stared in horror at the maid who’d opened the door of Ardgullan House. Ronan was arranging to marry someone else? He couldn’t be! Had she come too late?
For a moment she almost turned and ran back to the carriage, then something inside her stiffened her spine. If he was thinking of marriage to someone else, he must be desperate. But she wasn’t going to let him sacrifice himself – or her – just for a house, even a huge one like this.
Without consciously planning what to do, she pushed past the maid and stood in the hall. ‘Where is he?’
‘Please, miss! I daren’t—’
But the woman’s eyes had gone instinctively towards a heavy carved door to the right. Xanthe moved in that direction, feeling she was on the right track when she heard a gasp from behind her.
She opened the door quietly and found herself facing a group of people who had solemn expressions, and were all so still they looked to be carved from stone.
Ronan was standing in front of the hearth where a fire was sputtering miserably. His face had a shuttered look and his whole demeanour was grim and joyless, so unlike his usual self. Whatever he was doing, she’d guessed right: he wasn’t happy about it. Xanthe knew him too well to mistake his mood. Her spirits lifted just a little. There was hope. She was sure there was hope.
The young woman sitting on a sofa also looked stiff and unhappy, her red hair tightly pinned back but tendrils escaping as if they had a will of her own. She was dressed in a huge crinoline, which meant she had to sit on the edge of the sofa so that it could spread out in front of her. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap and she was staring at the floor in front of her skirt, not at Ronan. That puzzled Xanthe. Surely if he was
the man she was to marry, she should be looking at him, smiling even? And why weren’t the two of them alone? Why were the other people there? It seemed a strange way to arrange a marriage to her.
The older woman sitting on the sofa beside the young one was sour-faced and watchful, as if ready to pounce on any mistake in behaviour or speech.
Two older men were sitting opposite them on another sofa, one richly dressed, presumably the father, the other dressed in more sombre garments. A lawyer? Was this a marriage or a business arrangement?
In the time it had taken her to assess the situation, Ronan had turned towards the door, saying, ‘Ah, here’s the tea now. Shall we—’ He broke off to stare at Xanthe, his expression changing to one of incredulity. For a moment he hesitated, then he took a step towards her, mouthing her name, his love showing on his face.
She didn’t wait for him to have second thoughts, but ran across the room and threw herself into his arms. Before he could speak, she said, ‘I won’t let you do it, Ronan! You’ll be miserable for the rest of your life, just like Conn.’
He pulled her close with an inarticulate murmur, cradling her closely, ignoring the muttering of the other occupants of the room. ‘Xanthe! I can’t believe it’s you.’ He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, saying with a shaky laugh, ‘I think the sun has just come out.’
Pushing her to arm’s length, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘How did you happen to come here at just this moment?’
‘I knew you needed me. I didn’t know why, but I just knew it, so I came as quickly as I could.’
‘Maguire!’ It was an angry roar that echoed round the room.
Ronan jerked as if he’d forgotten they weren’t alone and let go of her. They both turned towards the voice.
The richly clad older gentleman had stood up and was glaring at them. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Maguire?’
‘Coming to my senses.’ He turned back to Xanthe. ‘Don’t go. I must sort this out before we do anything.’