Call Home the Heart (25 page)

 

 

Determinedly, Muireann lifted a rake and began to muck out one of
the stalls. She did some serious soul-searching there amongst the
piles of steaming manure. Did she really want to revert back to her
old lifestyle, a never-ending round of parties and soirees, full of
dull people who were only interested in meaningless small talk, and
in puffing up their already inflated opinions of themselves?

 

 

I'm happy here, she suddenly realized, and laughed aloud. Despite
all the hardship, trials and tribulations she had undergone, all the
hard work and sacrifices, she was indeed happy.

 

 

And I have Lochlainn to thank for that. He had faith in me, he
guided me, looked after me. So now it's up to me to make sure I make
this place a success, she reflected, as she finished in the stables
and then went up to the house to begin the evening meal.

 

 

Brona and Sharon were already in the kitchen when she arrived. She
washed her hands, then began cutting up vegetables and peeling
potatoes as though she had done it all her life.

 

 

 The two women exchanged glances with each other behind
Muireann's back, but said nothing. They would have liked to voice
their newfound admiration for the woman whom they had first believed
would be vain and spoilt, but somehow it seemed rude. At least they
were not reluctant to praise her amongst themselves when the tenants
all gathered together at the end of the day for a cup of tea and a
gossip.

 

 

Most evenings, Muireann finished up her share of the sewing and
wisely withdrew, stating that she had to update the books. She liked
all of the people she met at Barnakilla, and had grown very fond of
Brona, Sharon, and Siobhan and her husband Patrick. All the same,
she could sense their reserve in front of her.

 

 

Wiping her hand on her apron as she suddenly recalled she was meant
to be helping to churn the butter that night for market in Clogher
early the next morning, Muireann scurried out of the kitchen, almost
barreling into Lochlainn's broad chest.

 

 

He grabbed her by the elbows as she brought herself up short and
slipped, and held her to him tightly for a moment before apologizing
gruffly and releasing her.

 

 

Muireann glanced at his retreating back, and ran on to the barn,
trying to suppress the desire coursing through her veins.

 

 

Lochlainn entered the kitchen unobserved, and overheard Brona
commenting to Sharon about how handy Muireann had become in the
kitchen.

 

 

"I never would have thought she would have stuck it a day, let alone
a month. And she seems to be deft at everything she turns her hand
to."

 

 

"And she can read and write," Sharon remarked enviously. "I wish I
could do my letters and such like as easily as she."

 

 

"I'm sure she'll teach you if you ask. She's been talking about
setting up a proper school for the children as soon as things are a
bit more settled. You know, I always heard Scotchy people were very
cold and haughty, but she isn't, now is she?"

 

 

"Not at all. She has us call her Muireann at the sewing circles, and
though we none of us are very good with a needle, she's very patient
with us."

 

 

"What do you think of her making us all new dresses for the summer?"
Brona asked excitedly. "Have you got measured yet?"

 

 

"Not yet, but you should see the pattern she drew for me. It's like
something out of them social papers about what the Queen and all get
up to," Sharon marveled.

 

 

Lochlainn listened pensively to their praise of Muireann, and then
moved closer to the fire.

 

 

"So you think she's happy here? That she would want to stay?" he
asked the two women.

 

 

"Heaven help us if she doesn't," Brona said. "I've heard tell that
with the new government taxes, a great number of the landlords won't
be able to keep up. That they're going to evict all their tenants.
If Muireann goes, we'll be walking the roads just like the rest of
them poor souls."

 

 

"Where did you hear that rumor?" he asked sharply.

 

 

 "I heard it the other day at the market when I went to sell
some of those wooden bowls and things you and the other men have
made out of yew wood."

 

 

"And what did you hear, exactly?"

 

 

"They said the English government had increased the taxes and were
expecting the landlords to pay by head. The men and women were to be
charged one rate, and two children would make a grown-up rate,"
Brona informed him.

 

 

Lochlainn frowned as he did some quick calculations. "There are a
hundred of us here. If that's true, Muireann would have to come up
with a very large amount of cash quite soon."

 

 

Brona and Sharon exchanged alarmed glances.

 

 

Lochlainn stood up from his chair by the fire and declared, "Well,
there's no sense in talking about it now. We'll just have to wait
and see, won't we?"

 

 

The two women nodded, but suddenly the kitchen had turned
unaccountably gloomy. The women called the workers into dinner a
great deal less cheerfully than was their wont. The rumor went
around quickly despite Lochlainn's command not to worry. It cast a
pall over the whole room.

 

 

After supper was finished, rather than lingering to do sewing or
carving, one by one they all began to drift back home to their cold
lonely cottages, to lie down and sleep until the rooster would
summon them to another arduous day's labor early the next morning.

 

 

Lochlainn noticed Muireann had not come in for her stew. Against his
better judgment, he went in search of her. He knew she had made a
great many sacrifices to try to make her plans work, but what of
these new taxes? Had all their efforts been in vain?

 

 

And more to the point, was Muireann happy? Lochlainn had admired for
a long time how she turned her hand to anything that needed doing on
the estate without a word of complaint, no matter how difficult or
disgusting the task.

 

 

But she was young, wealthy in her own right. If she were ever
willing to go back to her father in Scotland and confess her
financial woes, she would most certainly be taken back into the
bosom of her family. She could marry well, leave all of this behind,
or perhaps even marry someone who would be willing to take over
Barnakilla for her.

 

 

The thought of Muireann marrying again suddenly filled him with
inexplicable dread. He hurried down to the milking shed, anxious to
see her again.

 

 

Muireann looked up in surprise as Lochlainn declared, "I need to
speak with you about the estate."

 

 

"Fine. I was just finishing here. Give me a moment," she said,
hoping her voice didn't betray the strain she felt.

 

 

She completed the churning, and handed over the butter paddles to
Siobhan, who had come in to check that everything was ready for the
trip to Clogher in the morning.

 

 

Then she led the way up to the house, untying her apron and tugging
her kerchief off to shake out her raven tresses. She felt nervous
around him, and wished she could go back to the long, easy chats
they had always had with each other before that fateful night which
now seemed so long ago.

 

 

Only a few short days before, they had been able to work side by
side compatibly for hours on end, in tune with each other's
thoughts. Now he was like a stranger to her, a silent, brooding
stranger.

 

 

Are all men completely untrustworthy? Muireann wondered sadly.

 

 

She led him into the study and sat at the desk. "Well, what's wrong?
Is it a problem with the ledgers?"

 

 

"No, not really. It's more to do with a rumor I just heard in the
kitchen about new taxes."

 

 

"It's not a rumor, it's true," Muireann said, looking away from his
blazing steel-gray eyes.

 

 

Lochlainn exploded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

 

 

"We haven't exactly been on speaking terms recently, have we?" she
said quietly, the hurt evident in her voice.

 

 

Lochlainn ran a finger under his suddenly too tight neck cloth.
"I've been busy."

 

 

"As have I. Besides, there didn't seem much point in making a fuss
at this point in time. With the trial set for the thirteenth,
there's just a little more than a week until we get a clearer
picture of what will happen to us. I suggest we wait until then
before we panic."

 

 

"But the trial could go on for weeks. You know that as well as I
do!"

 

 

She sat back in her chair wearily. "I'm sorry, Lochlainn, but the
taxes are so high, I can't really give you any good news. We could
sell some of the livestock, and try to get Neil to liquidate any
more shares I might own. Of course, we could always sell a field or
two to Mr. Stephens."

 

 

"You can't be serious!"

 

 

Muireann waved aside his objections impatiently. "I know all about
the long-standing feud between the two families, but really, it
doesn't concern me. It's past history, and  we need money. We
can't eat the grass ourselves, can we? And what good will it do if
the government arrests me for debt? So I'll sell the field if I
can't find any other way around the problem."

 

 

"We could sell the tree plantation on the north-eastern side of the
property," Lochlainn suggested almost desperately.

 

 

"Aye, but what will we live on if we curtail the timber business?
It's the same problem with the animals. If we sell them, we haven't
got anything to keep the estate profitable. I'd get a good price for
the mare and stallion, but wouldn't it be better to keep them, and
sell their offspring?"

 

 

"You're right, of course, but everything seems to take time, which
is the one thing we don't have very much of at the moment."

 

 

She gave him a tight smile. "I know. But I don't want to tie my own
hands myself further down the line by making a snap decision on the
basis of only a few suppositions. Look, I know you're tired,
Lochlainn. You and I have been working all sorts of ungodly hours
ever since we arrived back here. Now to be told it might all have
been in vain, well, it's unsupportable."

 

 

The pair lapsed into silence for a moment, until Muireann remarked
quietly, "There is one other possible solution, though it is no good
getting our hopes up at this point."

 

 

Lochlainn frowned. "I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me."

 

 

"I'm not sure myself."

 

 

"What do you mean?"

 

 

Muireann sighed. "I've found some property deeds for a house
Augustine bought a couple of years ago in Dublin."

 

 

"A house? In Dublin?"

 

 

"So you know nothing about it either," Muireann said uneasily.

 

 

"No, not a thing," Lochlainn admitted, not caring how inadequate it
made him seem.

 

 

"Well, I think it should be sold. The current tenant is listed as a
Mrs. Barnet. If she's willing to take a first option out on it, the
money we get would not only help us with the taxes, but also towards
realizing the sum the bank is demanding as back payment on the
mortgage for Barnakilla."

 

 

"It is better than selling the fields, certainly, but I have no idea
what--"

 

 

"Yes, I know. Even if Mrs. Barnet were in a position to buy the
place straight away, we still wouldn't get the money for quite some
time. Besides, how do we know it hasn't been mortgaged already, and
I just haven't been able to find the documents somewhere in this
mess of papers?"

 

 

"It will all get sorted out eventually," Lochlainn reassured her,
trying to sound cheerful despite the leaden weight on his heart.

 

 

She leafed through the papers once more. "Well, I think I should go
up to Dublin to investigate the matter, and see what can be done."

 

 

"Surely you don't have to go now, Muireann," Lochlainn argued, loath
to part with her. "Why not make preliminary enquiries by post
first?"

 

 

"Aye, I will. I wouldn't like to be away from the estate too long.
Not when there's so much to do. But in the meantime, there's no need
for you to worry too much, Lochlainn. We're just about keeping our
heads above water at the moment."

 

 

"That's so long as no unforeseen disaster occurs," Lochlainn
grumbled.

 

 

"Touch wood as you say that," Muireann said superstitiously, tapping
her finger on the desk. "It will be a struggle, but with the
livestock, which will no doubt breed, and the occasional useful
wedding presents coming in, I think we're doing fine."

 

 

"Muireann, about selling the house in Dublin . . ."

 

 

"Well?" she asked, raising her eyes from her papers to look at him.

 

 

Lochlainn had to swallow hard past the lump in his throat to get the
words out. "Do you not think you might be better off selling
Barnakilla, and living in Dublin? Look at the life you're leading
here, with nothing but hardship and toil. You could be the belle of
Dublin society if you sold this place. After all, it's only a burden
to you."

 

 

Muireann sensed he was testing her. She rose from her chair and went
over to where he was sitting, and put her arm around his shoulder.
She sat in his lap and declared softly, "I'm the one who's been a
burden to you. I'll try not to be anymore, I promise. You've been a
huge help. I'm so grateful I can't even begin to tell you how much.
So don't ever talk about me going to be the toast of Dublin society.
My family and friends are all here now."