A Rose in Splendor (32 page)

When Brigid found Deirdre, her dark cloak was half-hidden by the snow and her face was stiff with frozen tears. “
Mavrone!
”
she cried as she bent over the girl and felt her cheek. “You’re cold as ice,
ma alanna!
”

She scooped Deirdre up against her bosom and briskly rubbed her cheeks. “You wicked, wicked lass! Why did ye slip away? I’d have come with ye and seen to it that ye were back inside before the storm!”

Deirdre opened her eyes, surprised to find herself in Brigid’s arms. “I fell asleep,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

“’Tis a wicked, wicked trick ye played on me,” Brigid scolded, but her voice was unsteady. “Ye could have froze to death. If not for the
deeshy
lass, Fey, I’d never have found ye. Up with ye now and come inside.”

Deirdre allowed Brigid to prod and pull her to her feet. “We’re going home, Brigid. We’re going home.”

“Of course we are. Didn’t I bring the pony cart for that very reason?”

Deirdre raised her head and smiled as snowflakes tangled in her lashes. “Not this home. Ireland! I’ve just been telling Da. I’ve promised to take him home to Liscarrol!”

Brigid nodded, not trusting her voice, and pushed Deirdre toward the meager shelter offered by the back of the cart. “In ye go, lass, and pull that blanket over ye.” When she had covered Deirdre with two additional blankets she climbed up into the driver’s seat and slapped the pony’s rump with the reins.

“Get home, ye great lazy beast!” she commanded the small, surefooted pony. “Get us home before grief makes the pair of us mad!”

* * *

Deirdre awakened to the curious sensation that she was being watched. The fine hair on her arms stirred as she opened her eyes to find dark eyes framed in black lashes regarding her intensely.

“I said ye’d nae die. I told her ye’d come round.” Fey sat back and folded her arms across her narrow bosom. “I’ll be after having me supper, then, seeing as ye’ve come back.”

Deirdre glanced at the drawn draperies. “It is supper-time already?”

“Aye, and that famished I am, seeing that I’ve had little to eat and nothing to do but to watch ye these last three days.”

“Three days?” Deirdre whispered huskily. “I’ve been abed three days?”

“That ye have, and old pisspot wailing and moaning fit for a banshee half them hours.” Disgust colored Fey’s tone. “There’s better and quicker ways to end yer life if ’tis what ye were after.”

“I’m certain there are. But I had no such thing in mind,” Deirdre answered wearily, remembering why she had gone to the cemetery.

Fey shrugged. “Ye’ve missed naught. The house is that quiet, ye’d believe every one of them had died.”

Deirdre closed her eyes, willing the grief to pass. After a long moment it lessened. Action must now replace the inertia of mourning. “Where’s Brigid?”

“In the kitchen preparing another poultice.” Fey made a face. “Should I fetch her?”

Deirdre shook her head and sat up, bracing herself as a wave of light-headedness swept over her. “I must get dressed. I must speak with Lady Elva.”

Fey reached out to steady Deirdre as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Ye can nae do that! Old pisspot will have me head if ye set foot out of that bed!”

Deirdre shrugged free of the small hard hands that held her shoulders. “Oh, do release me!” she cried impatiently and slipped from the bed onto her feet. Her head swam but she ignored the dizziness. “Fetch a gown from there, and be quick.”

Fey placed a hand on each hip. “I’m nae a servant!”

Deirdre blinked, fighting the boneless sensation that had invaded her body. “I beg your pardon, Fey.” She looked up and smiled wanly, her dimples like caverns in her too-pale face. “If you do not help me, Brigid will come and tuck me back in bed and I’ll be too weak to resist. But with your help…”

The trailing thought made Fey grin. There was little to stimulate an active child in this household. Since Lord Fitzgerald had fallen seriously ill, baiting Brigid had been her only release from tedium. “Which gown did ye want?”

“The black velvet,” Deirdre answered. “And hurry!”

With Fey’s aid Deirdre had dressed herself in gown and stockings and shoes before Brigid’s footsteps were heard on the hall. With a resigned sigh, she lowered herself into the chair by the fire. When the door opened she sat with her trembling hands folded in her lap. “Good morning, Brigid, or is it night? I’ve not yet peeked through the draperies.”

“Miss Deirdre!” Brigid exclaimed, all but dropping the tray she carried. “Ye’re up and dressed! How did ye—?” Her gaze went to Fey, who stood defiantly by Deirdre’s side, and her face flushed with anger. “Ye’re the cause o’ this. I should have known better than to trust the likes of ye!”

“Ye old bag!” Fey answered. “’Tis a miracle the lady lives at all, what with ye pouring yer foul medicines into her!”

“Fey! Brigid!” Deirdre called, her voice softening on her nurse’s name. “I am well, but very hungry. I would like soup, bread, and tea. And, Brigid, please inform Lady Elva that I would speak with her on a very important matter.” She smiled beguilingly at her nurse. “Now, that is settled.”

Brigid stared at her charge. Deirdre was too pale and too thin but the light of determination shone in her eyes, and Brigid was too glad to see her awake to scold her just now. “I’ll prepare the soup meself. Cook’s good for naught when it comes to preparing a proper broth. Ye must return to bed in the meanwhile.”

Deirdre shook her head. “I will sit here a little longer. One thing more, is it morning or night?”

Brigid pursed her lips in disapproval of her patient’s contrariness, then said, “’Tis mid-morning, and the snow is melting.”

Satisfied, Deirdre leaned her back against the chair and closed her eyes.

*

Deirdre sat watching the porcelain clock ticking away the seconds of the morning as she waited in her father’s library. Lady Elva was late.

A week had passed since Deirdre’s defiant recovery. Unfortunately, her body had not been as sympathetic to her needs as Fey had been. The soup and tea had been rejected by her sensitive stomach within moments of consumption and she had been ignobly returned to bed by a frantic Brigid. For three days she was not allowed to raise her head from the pillow. Yesterday she had been allowed to rise and dress for the first time. If not for the visit from her father’s solicitor the evening before, she doubted that Brigid would have consented to her coming down stairs even yet.

The sound of the door latch sent her out of her seat and to her feet.

“Deirdre, my love,” Lady Elva said as she entered the room.

“Lady Elva,” Deirdre responded, curtsying as she had when she was a child.

Lady Elva’s progress across the room was slow and the reason for it struck Deirdre with amazement. Though her bodice was tight-fitted under her breasts, the waistline had been altered, raised, to accommodate the filling figure. “You’re with child!”

Lady Elva smiled as she lowered a hand to her swollen middle. “Aye. ’Tis a son I hope for before Easter.”

“I—I didn’t realize,” Deirdre replied, wondering at her ability to be so blind. “With Da ailing and—Did Da know?”

“Aye,” Lady Elva answered softly, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “’Twas a great consolation to him, you see. He had hopes of rearing the boy himself.”

Deirdre came forward to embrace her stepmother. “If Da wanted a son, then he will have one.”

Lady Elva framed Deirdre’s face with her hands. “’Tis not for you to be sad that he wanted a son, Dee. He often said that in you he had everything a father could want in a daughter.”

“Whereas Conall and Darragh leave much to be desired,” Deirdre finished smartly. “Aye, I’m grateful to hear that Da was pleased with me,” she continued, retreating from the treacherous precipice of tears. “Come and sit. We’ve much to discuss.”

When they were seated, Lady Elva said, “I know that your grief is as bitter as mine. But my future is planned, you see,” and she patted her middle. “My confinement draws near and then the babe will require all my attention.” She blushed suddenly and reached for Deirdre’s hand. “That is not to say that I will not have time for you, my dear. ’Tis only that—”

“I understand,” Deirdre answered. “You are right. Your future is settled and mine is not. ’Tis why I’ve wished to speak with you.”

“I can guess your concerns,” Lady Elva said. “You are young and eager that your marriage not be delayed. Very well. I’ve good news that should ease your anxiety.” She offered Deirdre the parchment she carried. “The solicitor who came last evening informed me of your father’s wishes for the dispersement of his estate. This is for you.”

Deirdre took the paper and began to read. Her eyes swept over the writing twice before she raised her head “But this is a bill of sale for Liscarrol!”

“Aye, the castle and the surrounding lands as well,” Lady Elva answered, quite pleased by the look of surprise on her stepdaughter’s face. “I’ve been assured that the funds received from the sale will be more than enough to provide a generous dowry. That which is left can be used to purchase your trousseau.”

Deirdre scarcely heard the last of her stepmother’s
remarks. She stared at the paper in her hand, rereading each line. “It is not signed,” she said at last.

“Nae. That must be done by you. Liscarrol has been deeded to you. ’Twas done years ago, at the time of your birth. Had your father not informed you? Well, perhaps not, since there was no need until now. Liscarrol was part of the wedding gifts your father gave your mother. She, in turn, deeded the land to you. Of course, as long as your father was alive the land was his. Now you are a landowner, Deirdre. How does it feel?”

Deirdre slowly shook her head. She did not know what she felt, besides enormous relief. Without looking up she asked, “To whom did my father wish to sell Liscarrol?”

“To your cousin, the one who has had the caretaker’s duty of it these last eleven years.”

Studying the sum offered, Deirdre said, “Cousin Neil must have fared well these years. The price named here is not a stingy one.”

“Aye, your father was quite pleased with the offer. He had hoped to sell the land himself and present you with the gold. Had he lived, he would have—” She paused on a sob but she waved away Deirdre’s touch of comfort. “Nae. Your father would not like me to weep so. I promised him I would not. ’Tis not good for the bairn.”

She wiped delicately at the spilled tears and sniffed back the rest. “Where were we? Ah yes. While your wedding cannot be the grand affair we had hoped for, it can take place, say, within six months’ time.”

Deirdre looked at her stepmother. “I will not wed.”

“Not right away,” Lady Elva agreed. “But after six months of mourning, and if we’re discreet…”

“I will not wed.”

Lady Elva’s smooth brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “There’s no reason for you to wait the full year, unless, of course, ’tis your desire.”

“I have no wish to wed Cousin Claude, now or ever.”

Lady Elva made a small gasp. “My dear, your father would not wish you to grieve in loneliness forever.” Her stepdaughter had done a very foolish and dangerous thing in going out into the snow to visit her father’s grave. It
was a sign that the girl was overwrought. “Let’s save this talk of weddings for another time. Aye, I think that’s what we should do.”

She rose. “There’s no hurry to sign the paper. The solicitor informed me that he will remain in Nantes for the next two weeks. He would prefer to take the papers with him when he sails for London, but if you are not yet ready…” Her thought trailed off as she received no response from Deirdre. She had reached the doorway when Deirdre finally spoke.

“I will not sell Liscarrol. If it is really and truly mine, then I shall go home, to Liscarrol.”

Lady Elva put a trembling hand to her lips. “I knew I should have waited,” she murmured to herself. “’Twas too soon to burden the girl with her good fortune.” To Deirdre she said, “We will discuss this again when you are feeling stronger.”

When she was gone, Deirdre carefully read the paper once more and then with tears in her eyes she began to smile. It was an answer to her prayer. She would go back to Ireland, send for her father’s remains, and bury him in Liscarrol’s family plot, where he belonged.

She stood up. Now to find Brigid and tell her the news. They would have to wait until spring before making the journey, but they could make plans.

She crumbled the paper in her hand. She had no intention of selling even an acre of Liscarrol land.

*

“’Tis nae a great amount,” Fey commented. She picked up a bracelet and tested the gold with her teeth. “Sure’n ’tis gold, but the jewels is
deeshy
.”

Deirdre eyed the small pile of jewelry with equal disgust. “’Tis all I have. Unmarried ladies are not showered with valuable trinkets.”

“Lady Elva’s a married lady,” Fey offered hopefully, her eyes on the small but fiery ruby in the ring she had slipped on her finger. “She’d nae know were ye to borrow a brooch or two.”

“No thievery,” Deirdre answered. Theft was the one constant battle the Fitzgerald household fought with Fey during those first months. The girl’s tendency to be light-fingered had alarmed the entire family. Something had vanished from everyone, servant and master alike, before Brigid, suspicious as always, found the girl’s horde in a loose floorboard under her cot. Only a closed-door interview with Lord Fitzgerald himself had broken her of the habit, for the most part. None knew what had been said between them, but Fey had remained by his side the last days of his life and even wept when she thought no one saw her.