Once Upon A Regency: Timeless Tales And Fables

by Samantha Grace

  * * * *

  Maeve could hear the crowd in the courtyard. She had never heard them sound so loud, so fevered, and it had grown with each match. She wished she didn't have to do this. Wished she could close her eyes, and upon awaking find out she was home in Doolin. That the last year hadn't happened. But that wasn’t likely, so she took a deep breath and prayed.

  “Come on, fool girl,” Willy commanded, grabbing at her arm. Maeve wondered if his petulant humor meant that Margie had won or lost.

  She let herself be led out to the courtyard. The crowd was immense and pressed in on her from all sides. Willy forced his way through, yelling “The Magnificent O'Malley!” Men touched her, grabbed at her, tried to kiss her. It was horrifying. Gaining the ring she saw her sisters off to the side. They'd not joined any men this evening, and didn't look up to it. Margie fared the worst, with both eyes swollen shut and a gash on her forehead.

  Willy spun Maeve around and held up her arm as he extolled her fighting prowess. Maeve couldn't even listen as she tried to ascertain whether Margie won her fight. Was there any point in winning this match? Could they possibly win enough to buy the Cave? Once Willy released her arm to focus on describing her opponent Morse, she went over to her sisters.

  “It's up to you,” Eva said.

  “You all won?” she asked, only then realizing how surprising she found that outcome to be. Not least because Willy hadn't let them spar at all with these opponents before the match.

  “It wasn't easy,” Bridget said, patting Margie's shoulder gently.

  Maeve turned to face her opponent. Morse was slender and muscular, built like a whip. He had a feral gleam to his eye that she didn't care for, but a square stance that told her he was confident he would win. Perhaps he had reason for his confidence, but she'd like to think that he didn't. When Willy called out for the fight to start she waded in with fists raised.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Miss O'Malley hadn't so much as glanced in their direction. After checking on her sisters she strode over to her opponent like an Amazon entering battle. Morse didn't seem to have any reservations about fighting a woman, immediately dropping into a defensive stance and meeting her first jabs with an even stronger punch. Galen felt his stomach twist. How could the man stand to do it? After the second solid hit Galen moved forward, but felt Finn's hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you watching her?” his friend asked.

  “I'm watching her being pummeled.”

  “No, watch her. She's flying.” Finn's voice held a note of awe that made Galen look more closely. Indeed, while Morse might have a solid punch, his repertoire was limited. Miss O'Malley, on the other hand, seemed determined to find the man's critical flaw. Sometimes that meant taking a solid punch. Other times it meant splitting her own bare knuckles on the fellow's bony frame.

  Bloody hell, Morse was clearly outclassed. The only question was whether Miss O'Malley had the strength and stamina to put him down. Each time the reeling Morse landed a solid punch it seemed less likely.

  * * * *

  Maeve hadn't ever felt this much pain before. She thought it quite likely that Morse had broken some of her ribs. In his later fights her father would have his ribs broken from time to time. A nasty business, making it hard to breathe and uncomfortable to laugh. He'd broken so many bones, though. Sometimes he would laugh and point at them, saying what each ache could prognosticate. He had one for rain and another for fog. One for visitors and another for gifts. He was right as often as he was wrong, so it was hard to say whether his aches might have the right of it.

  Morse caught her across the brow and she heard ringing. She knew from her da that keeping focused in the ring was paramount, yet here she'd let her mind wander. She did the only thing she knew that would keep her clear headed. She prayed.

  “Pator noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum”

  Morse moved back, confused by her sudden recitation in Latin.

  “Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.” She pushed her advantage, pummeling at him as he tried to evade and defend. With the Latin on her lips she felt stronger, faster, free of pain.”Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.”

  Morse stumbled back, looking around wildly. “What is she doing?”

  She chased him with another flurry of punches. “Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, se libera nos a malo. Amen.”

  “She's a witch!”

  The accusation broke loose a fury in her and she drove an uppercut into his chin, flinging him backward onto the ground. When he didn't rise she stood over him. “It's the Lord's Prayer, you eejit.”

  Her sisters rushed to her, dancing around and hugging her. As the righteousness of the fight seeped away, she began to feel her injuries again. She sank to her knees.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Galen was dumbfounded. Miss O'Malley had overwhelmed that poor bastard with the Lord's Prayer. Next to him, Finn laughed and slapped his back. In the ring, the Irish Sisters were celebrating, even the grievously injured Margie. Willy Cage had been shouting earlier but now seemed to have disappeared entirely. While Bridget fluttered over Miss O'Malley, Margie and Eva greeted Lord Aaron. It was, in Galen's estimation, a horrible play that had been acted out here tonight, with the poor Miss O'Malley as the centerpiece. How dare Willy Cage force the girl into this fight?

  Shaking off Finn's hand, he walked into the ring. Someone needed to take care of Miss O'Malley and it was clear that no one here was able to do so.

  * * * *

  Maeve's vision was blurry and her ears were ringing. She would consider laying down and crying if that didn't sound so painful. Everything sounded painful. Arms were around her and she braced herself for something horrible. She was picked up and cried out from the pain of it.

  “Sh. We'll fix this.”

  Lord Mornay's voice? She wasn't sure. Thankfully her consciousness faded.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Galen stared at the now familiar door. What a difference a day could make. The Irish Sisters owned the Enchanted Cave, after purchasing the debt of it from Lord Aaron with their winnings. Willy Cage, who had bet against his own fighter when her odds rose, had disappeared like the rotten bastard that he was. He owed Lord Aaron ten thousand pounds and some skin besides. Now Galen was stopping at the Cave to gather Maeve's belongings. Could he trust that the other girls hadn't pawed through them? Hopefully they would give some respect to the woman who had ensured their livelihood.

  Upon entering, he was greeted by Bridget. She was bruised, but no longer as snide as she'd been before. She showed him up to Maeve's room and left him to his business. Letters from Ireland, meager clothing, and a rosary. Those were the sum of Miss O'Malley's possessions.

  * * * *

  Maeve woke slowly and smacked her lips. An odd flavor. She was drowsy and lethargic. She could smell flowers on a warm breeze. Finally forcing her eyes open she was agape at the beauty of the room. Her bed hangings were a deep emerald velvet paired with gold silk. The walls had gold silk coverings with an ivy pattern. Doors were open to the outside and light streamed in.

  Suddenly a small maid was beside her bed. “You're awake, miss. I'll go tell my lady.”

  Who was her lady? What place was this, if not heaven itself?

  After some minutes she heard the door again and struggled to sit up.

  “Don't stir yourself,” an austere voice commanded. Maeve subsided back onto the bed. A tall woman with severe features and a silvery coif glided over to the bed. “Miss O'Malley,” she said. “I hope you're feeling better.”

  “A bit,” Maeve offered. It was the closest thing to the truth.

  “I hope the accommodations are to your satisfaction. My nephew was vague on the topics of your preferences or the duration of your stay.”

  Maeve
felt quite small under this woman's gaze. “Your nephew? Lord Mornay?”

  The woman's pause was significant, as though she worried that Maeve had any doubt. “Yes. Lord Mornay.”

  “The room is lovely.”

  The woman nodded once, as though Maeve's answer had been sufficient, and left without saying anything more. The little maid came over to straighten the bedclothes and fluff Maeve's pillow.

  “I didn't mean to upset her,” Maeve said.

  “Lady Ashforth? I think she likes you.”

  “Why?” Maeve asked, startled.

  “You’ve put two men down in fights,” the girl said with a pleased grin. “It’s fair to say you’re her heroine.”

  Maeve wondered how unpleasant it would be if Lady Ashforth didn't like you. But why on earth had Lord Mornay brought her here? It made little sense. The upper classes were foreign to her, but she sincerely doubted that you brought your mistress to your aunt. Although what did she know? Perhaps that was exactly how it worked. Not that she'd agreed to be his mistress, but after the beating from Morse she might be more amenable to such an escape from her present life. Even if the Sisters had been able to purchase the Cave, she would be expected to keep fighting to earn her keep.

  “It's time for more medicine,” the little maid said. Maeve swallowed down the nasty concoction and drifted into a dreamless sleep while murmuring her prayers.

  THE ENCHANTED CAVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Galen had fully intended to take Miss O'Malley's items to her the first day. Now, four days later, he forced himself to do what he ought. He still wasn't sure what to do with her. She was perfectly safe in his aunt's keeping. Perhaps Aunt Mellie would want to keep her on as a companion? Not that Mellie ever seemed lonely. The widow had always been outrageously independent, living exclusively in London after her husband passed some thirty years ago. If she'd wanted a companion in all that time she would have hired one. Although she might hire Miss O'Malley at Galen's urging, simply because she had an affection for her little brother's progeny. Not having children of her own, she had always been attentive of them, sending letters and gifts on birthdays and holidays. Yes, if he asked Aunt Mellie to take in Miss O'Malley he believed she would. But should he? He was the one who had chosen to scoop up the girl and take her from the Enchanted Cave. Even Miss O'Malley herself hadn't asked for such an act. Certainly he shouldn't make that his aunt's responsibility.

  When the butler greeted him at the door he asked to see Miss O'Malley. It would be best to find out what the girl might like before arranging her future for her. Elsewise, he thought with a smile, she might strike him. Or worse yet laugh at him. He was still smiling when the butler led him to a garden terrace, but his demeanor sobered upon seeing her bruises.

  “Miss O'Malley,” he said with a small bow to her.

  She stood and made an awkward curtsy, “Lord Mornay.”

  “Please, sit,” he encouraged. “Your ribs?”

  She nodded, avoiding his gaze. “They took a beating, plain and simple.”

  Once she was settled on the little bench he took a nearby seat. “It's still the talk of the town how you beat Morse. I doubt the man will show his face for a year.”

  “Serves him right for not even knowing the Lord's Prayer.” Even more disturbing than her bruises was her tone. This woman who had seemed so vibrant and determined when he met her now sounded forlorn. That bothered him more than perhaps it should.

  “Would you like for me to bring Finn for a visit?”

  She looked at him curiously. “Why?”

  “You seem like you need cheering.”

  She gave him that wry smile he'd come to learn meant she was about to skewer him. “Are you feeling unequal to the task?”

  “I just thought you might find him more charming company.”

  “Charming? He likes to lecture and scold me. Although I suppose I should thank the good Lord above for showing me through Lord Cole why younger siblings tire of such behavior. Should I have the chance, I will treat those mites differently.”

  Her statement about Finn gave Galen pause. If he'd predicted which of them someone would consider overbearing, it would be himself. Perhaps Finn had more of the earl in him than Galen had ever noticed. “Well, if not Finn then perhaps Oscar? That man could charm the leaves off a tree when he has a mind to.”

  She finally met his gaze directly. “What's to become of me?”

  He should have known that she would be more concerned about practicalities than entertainment. “That's up to you, to some extent. I'd not recommend that you go back to the Enchanted Cave. I could ask my aunt that you stay here as her companion if you like.”

  He saw her hands tighten on her skirts and she turned her attention out to the garden. “Would there be any pay?”

  “Of course.” Galen would see to it himself.

  She took a deep breath before returning her gaze to his. “Very well.”

  “That doesn't seem enthusiastic.”

  “I doubt that Lady Ashworth would want a companion of any particular enthusiasm.”

  Galen chuckled. “You are probably correct.” He looked at her keenly. “What do you want, Miss O'Malley?”

  “To take care of my family,” she answered without hesitation.

  He'd only known her for a month, but she had demonstrated more character in that time than most people he had ever known. Unswerving devotion to her family, determination, and a strict moral code. She had even helped him protect his friends because she'd thought it the right thing to do. He'd never known a woman, nor even a man, of upper or lower classes who was her equal. Perhaps he was finally accepting what Finn had seen. She was singular. If he lived to be an old man he might never find a woman of her quality again. Having never been a romantic, he'd always derided the men who dropped to their knees and spouted poetry at their amour. Now he understood a bit better. If one were lucky, he might meet a woman who humbled him enough to want to kneel before her.

  “Perhaps you'd like to marry?” he asked.

  That sad smile again. “I told you, Lord Mornay, I'd not like being tied to a man who thought me spoiled goods.”

  “I don't think you spoiled goods.”

  She frowned and her voice was barely a whisper, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “I think we might suit. I promise not to let Finn lecture you too much.” Her expression had grown blank. “I see I've shocked you again. Think on it and we'll talk in a few days’ time.”

  * * * *

  Maeve didn't know what to say. Lord Mornay remained a mystery to her. He said the most shocking things in his calm, deep voice. Could he possibly want to marry her? That made no sense. He'd admitted that he'd come to the Enchanted Cave to keep his friends from making just such a disastrous mistake. If he thought it disastrous for his friends, then how could he think it any different for himself? She wished that the Lord would make it easier for her to pick her path. Was an offer of marriage to an English baron just another devil's trap? Would she come to regret such a thing as she had fighting at the Enchanted Cave?

  When she still hadn't responded he stood and turned to look out at the garden. His posture was stiff. Had she unwittingly offended him? She hadn't meant to. But surely his offer was not sincere.

  “Oh,” he turned back to her. “I gave your belongings to the staff to put in your room, but brought you this.” He withdrew her rosary from his pocket and handed it to her. “You'd best be careful or you'll worry those beads to pieces.”

  Her heart stopped. “What did you say?”

  He frowned at her breathless tone. “I gave your belongings to the staff-”

  “No, the last thing.”

  His frown turned into a confused grin. “You'll worry those beads to pieces.”

  She laughed and he crossed his arms.

  “Now you're laughing at me like you did Finn?”

  She shook her head and held up the rosary. With her best impression of her father's gruff tone she sa
id, “You'd best be careful, Claire, or you'll worry those beads to pieces.” Holding the rosary in her lap she fingered the beads. “He would say that whenever she set to praying because she didn't know what to do next.”

  “Your father?”

  She nodded.

  “Not a very religious man?”

  She looked up at him again. “He is. He just doesn't believe in asking the Lord to solve all of your problems.”

  “Then what does he do?”

  “The Lord helps him as helps himself, he'd always say.” She bit her lip. “But now he can't even help himself.”

  Lord Mornay knelt down and took her hand. “Then how can you help yourself, Miss O'Malley?”

  She felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and whispered. “I could marry you.”

  “I may expire from your delight. Your enthusiasm doesn't even equal that of being my aunt's companion.”

  “I don't understand why you would want to marry me. If I'm not good enough for your friends how can I be good enough for you?”

  “Pardon my suspicion that a woman at a bawdy house was not an adequate wife for my friends, but I found one who is good enough, and I'd like to keep her to myself. Because when I read Swift I want to ask her for her thoughts. I've wondered if she's read all the other authors in my library. When I take a stroll or carriage ride now, it seems strange to not have her there. I wonder how she'll like Cumberland and if it will remind her of home.”

  Maeve's heart warmed. This was no devil's trap. The man was about as romantic as the crags he resembled, but she had no need for flowery words and gifts. He was offering no less than himself and his wealth, when she had no more to offer than herself and a poor family to boot. “Could we go to Ireland, too?”