Call Home the Heart (28 page)

 

 

His sister smiled encouragingly. "Barnakilla is nothing but a
draughty old place, isn't it?"

 

 

"Thank you, Ciara. I'm glad you're such a sensible creature. You've
always stopped me from doing rash things."

 

 

"Falling in love is rash, but I think she'll be good for you, if the
two of you really love each other," Ciara said, a strange expression
crossing her wan features.

 

 

"But she doesn't love me. She's only just been widowed. She's just
turning to me for comfort, that's all."

 

 

Ciara shook her head. "You make Muireann sound weak and feeble.
She's proven herself strong time and time again. She isn't leaning
on you because she has to. It's because she wants to be with you."

 

 

She paused and blushed to the roots of her hair. "I've noticed what
time you've been getting in each morning recently, Lochlainn. Just
remember, a woman never gives herself where she doesn't love, unless
she's forced to do it because of his brute strength or her financial
desperation. There is no obligation for her to spend the night with
you, now is there?"

 

 

"No, you're right about that, but again, I just think it's because
being a young widow..."

 

 

"I'm not going to continue this conversation," Ciara said, coloring
to the roots of her hair as she stood up and began to fold some
sheets. "All I'm saying is, if you want Muireann to move in here
with us, you have only to let me know."

 

 

"I couldn't possibly ask her," Lochlainn said with a shake of his
head.  "She plans to move into the stable block."

 

 

"Perhaps it's best to let Muireann do it her way? She has a rather
annoying habit of always being right."

 

 

"I know you and Muireann aren't exactly the best of friends," he
said tentatively.

 

 

"That's been all my fault. I'll try harder to like her."

 

 

Lochlainn wondered why she looked so nervous. But he was also
relieved that at last his sister was starting to act a bit more like
her old self. She was far less moody and prone to strange spells of
odd behavior now that she was working for Muireann, overseeing the
running of the kitchen and the purchasing of provisions. Muireann
had encouraged her gradually to take on more and more responsibility
around Barnakilla, and Lochlainn prayed that she wouldn't suffer any
setbacks.

 

 

As Lochlainn trudged over to the nearby row of cottages to put the
work details together to start preparing for the new arrivals, he
wondered for the hundredth time that day why his life had to be so
complicated, and what he would ever do without Muireann by his side.

 

 

He might have disagreed with her in the study about the extra
burdens she was imposing upon herself to help Colonel Lowry's and
Mr. Cole's tenants. At the same time, he knew if their roles had
been reversed, he would have done exactly the same thing. Pray God
they didn't all suffer for it in the long run.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

By the end of the week, all of Muireann's preparations for welcoming
the new residents to Barnakilla were well under way. Though many on
the estate had reservations about what Muireann was doing, they saw
that she had made the offer to the homeless people out of the
kindness of her own heart, rather than with any intent to exploit
them.

 

 

With Lochlainn's encouragement, they all decided it was up to every
single one of them to make it work, for all their sakes. They had
cast their lots with their new landlady, and would see the thing
through to prosperity or ruin.

 

 

For her part, Muireann had a new scheme in mind to build up the
estate. Her first call was at Colonel Lowry's estate, Castle Lowry.
The property was a farm similar to her own, near to the shore, but
much more hilly, and with no easy access to the lough.

 

 

The house itself was quite gloomy, the original seventeenth-century
mansion having been remodeled as a Gothic Castle in 1803, according
to the colonel, who gave her a small tour of the downstairs before
ushering her into a splendid drawing room.

 

 

It was oak-paneled, with burgundy flocked wallpaper, and a variety
of leather sofas and fine occasional tables dotted all around the
room. Muireann noted the splendid view of the grounds from the
mullioned windows with a touch of envy. But certainly the most
impressive features of the room were the dozens of magnificent
pictures on the wall.

 

 

Muireann tried to subdue her anger as she looked at each old
masterpiece. Why, the sale of one painting alone would have paid the
taxes, without him ever having had to evict any of his tenants. But
she needed this man's help. Venting her spleen at his injustice was
not going to secure it for her.

 

 

"I'm just back from the courts, so you will forgive me if I go
freshen up and look through my letters for a moment, won't you,
child."

 

 

"Yes, of course, Colonel. I shall have plenty to keep me occupied
here," she said in a brittle tone, seemingly turning her attention
back to the paintings to conceal her distaste for the selfish old
man.

 

 

After he had left the room, she paced up and down in front of the
fireplace, rehearsing all the arguments she had formed in her head.
He might be much older than herself, but the magistrate was
certainly not in his dotage. Greed was a powerful motive, but it
alone would not be enough to carry the day. No, she needed logic,
and persuasiveness on her side as well.

 

 

The colonel re-entered the room several minutes later, followed a
short time afterward by a servant with a tray groaning with cakes
and sandwiches, which Muireann had to force herself to eat for the
sake of politeness.

 

 

 "Well, my dear, and what can I do for you?" the silver-haired
old gentleman said patronizingly as he waited for her to take
command of the tea tray. "Milk, two lumps."

 

 

Muireann handed him the cup with a sharp look in her eyes which the
blustering old colonel failed to detect.

 

 

"Well, first of all, sir, I was going to ask you how the court case
is coming along. I'm sure that Anthony is doing his best for me, but
with all the new tenants I have now, and the taxes and mortgage to
pay, things are starting to get a bit tight."

 

 

Colonel Lowry smiled slyly. "I find that hard to believe, a woman
with you immense business acumen."

 

 

Muireann smiled at him prettily. "It's a case of continuous
outgoings, and not many incomings at the moment. But I would think
it would be in your interests to get the matter settled as quickly
as possible in the courts, for I should like to buy your tree
plantation and lower pasture."

 

 

Colonel Lowry nearly gagged on the tea he was sipping. "Who on earth
told you they were for sale!" he spluttered, outraged.

 

 

"No one. I'm here to make you an honest business proposal," Muireann
replied calmly.

 

 

"But I have more sheep arriving any day! Why would I want to give
you my pasture land?"

 

 

"Because you and I both know that the pasture in question, the one
bordering my estate, is divided by the huge forest running along the
bottom of your estate from east to west.

 

 

"If you sold me the whole forest, along with the pasture, you would
have a much smaller but better organized and maintained holding. You
also wouldn't have to worry about the sheep straying off into the
woods and getting lost or injured. We can redraw the boundaries, and
you can enclose the whole with fences to protect your investments.
My men will even help build them, so there will be no
misunderstandings, and no inconvenience to yourself."

 

 

"How do you know I might not want to go into the carpentry or timber
business myself?" Colonel Lowry asked gruffly.

 

 

Muireann's eyes glinted hard in the firelight. "Forgive me, sir, but
may I remind you that you have dismissed all your workers. You've
even contracted with me for the shearing of the sheep by my tenants.
Where would you get the people to perform the labor? Plus, the trees
are mostly Scotch pine and fir, not suitable for furniture at all.

 

 

"Even if you wanted to use them for timber, your trees are so high
up, it would be impractical for you to transport them by land or
water. I'm the only one with a dock convenient to you, and I would
hardly let you load them if you were going to try to set yourself up
as a business rival to me."

 

 

The colonel looked dumbfounded.

 

 

"But if I were to allow you to use the docks for your sheep at
particular dates during the month, would you be willing to let me
purchase the forest and pasture for a reasonable price, to be paid
to you as soon as further monies come through from the case against
Mr. Blessington?"

 

 

Colonel Lowry pondered her proposal silently, and began to see the
wisdom of her suggestion.

 

 

"It is true, I would have a smaller property, but that would mean
lower taxes, less unproductive land for me, and the chance to ship
the sheep by sea via your dock would mean I could trade in England,
Scotland or even further abroad."

 

 

"It wouldn't just have to be livestock, either. It could even be
sheep skins, meat products, and so on," Muireann said.

 

 

"Well, I would have to consult my son, not only as the eventual heir
to the estate, but also as my lawyer. But I think he would agree to
it, provided the price were right."

 

 

"As I said, you would have to wait for the money from the trial, but
if I give you, say, two years' passage rights to my docks,
effectively immediately, and you work out the dates with my estate
manager, Lochlainn Roche, can we say this figure would be suitable?"
she asked, jotting down a sum on a piece of paper with her small
pencil.

 

 

Colonel Lowry read the slip of paper and tried to bargain her up a
bit, but Muireann remained firm.

 

 

"After all, Colonel, I do have a great number of mouths to feed,"
she reminded him, fluttering her eyelashes and simpering like a
mindless society beauty.

 

 

The Colonel laughed then, and gave in. "All right, I agree, so long
as Anthony does as well. It would be churlish of me to refuse so
pretty a lady. And you did after all save me the trouble and expense
of shipping those no-good tenants of mine to the New World."

 

 

Muireann tamped down her rage at his callousness. as she shook him
firmly by the hand. "It's a bargain then. How soon would you like to
fence in your estate?"

 

 

"Well, er, as soon as you like, I should think," the Colonel
blustered, wondering why he suddenly felt as though he had been
tricked in some way.

 

 

"I'd like the papers all drawn up and brought to me as soon as
possible. I shall tell Lochlainn to get the men on work detail first
thing tomorrow morning."

 

 

"Whatever you wish, Mrs. Caldwell," the Colonel replied amiably,
convinced by her charming manners into thinking he had nothing to
worry about. "I'll contact my son and get the whole process under
way immediately."

 

 

"Thank you, Colonel. You are too kind." She smiled graciously,
resisting the temptation to crow her triumph for all the world to
hear.

 

 

She accepted his offer to escort her to her mount, and nodded her
agreement when he insisted she should buy herself a side-saddle
immediately, though behind his back she rolled her eyes in
exasperation.

 

 

With one last wave, Muireann spurred her horse, and headed off to
tackle her next victim.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

As Muireann rode down the avenue of Castle Lowry, she was overjoyed
at how easy her negotiations had been.

 

 

She had not only deprived the colonel of his best hunting land and
timber, she had also cut off Mr. Stephens' access to the lough
through the colonel's property. She would now be in an excellent
bargaining position with Malcolm Stephens.

 

 

Though Lochlainn had warned her that he was a lying snake in the
grass and someone to be avoided at all costs, she was certain she
could gain the upper hand if she played her cards right.

 

 

As she rode up to the front door of Malcolm Stephens' house, The
Grange, she saw a tall man of about forty, slightly stout, with
ginger hair, standing on the steps of the mansion, removing his
gloves and mud-bespattered coat while the groom led his horse away
around the left-hand side of the house to the stables

 

 

He paused on the steps to look at his visitor. He did not recognize
Muireann, and since there was no groom about, he descended the steps
and offered her a hand down.

 

 

Muireann was slightly embarrassed to have been caught riding
astride, but there were no ladies' sidesaddles at Barnakilla. She
was damned if she was going to waste money on one just for the sake
of not shocking the neighbors.

 

 

So she swung her leg over the pommel with a flurry of skirts, and
rested her hands on his shoulders lightly as he held her waist and
made sure she reached the ground safely.

 

 

Well, Miss, er. . ."

 

 

"I'm Mrs. Muireann Caldwell," she said, extending her hand by way of
greeting.