Destiny's Path (2 page)

‘Are you all right?’ Zachary asked.

‘No. I’m feeling sick again.’ She heard him suck in his breath and knew what he was hoping. ‘I must be expecting a child,’ she admitted.

‘Oh, my darling girl! I’m so happy.’

She risked a slight movement to look at him. His plain bony face was lit up with joy. He’d never be handsome but he was attractive to her and to others too because of the kindness of his nature. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about it,’ she admitted. ‘It’s too soon.’

He laughed softly. ‘Children come when chance wills it. And anyway, didn’t we say we wanted three or four?’

‘Not yet, though. I’ve hardly settled into the routine of the shop. We’ve not even been back in England for a year. You and I have so many plans now that the war in America is over and the town’s mills are coming to life again.’ She and Zachary intended to buy her sisters’ share of her uncle’s shop, where he’d worked since he was twelve and which he loved.

‘I know, love, but we’ll manage just fine with a baby. I’ll make sure my children never want.’ He watched her anxiously. ‘Can I help in any way? There must be something wrong if you’re not bouncing out of bed.’

She smiled wanly. ‘I’ve a sudden longing for a cup of tea, very sweet. Could you ask Dot to bring one up, please?’

He leaned forward to press a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll do it straight away.’ He’d heard their maid get up a little while ago.

Half an hour later Pandora got up and although she felt a little dizzy at first, her body soon settled down again. She was even more grateful than usual for the wonderful indoor bathroom and smiled wryly as she remembered her days working as a maid in Australia, sleeping in a tent, fetching all the water from the well, using a trench for a privy at first. It had been hard, especially after her eldest sister Cassandra got married and left her on her own with their employers.

The thought of her three sisters brought tears to her eyes, as it often did. She’d been so desperately homesick in Australia, she’d been wasting away with unhappiness, but the others had loved it there and refused to come back to England with her.

She knew they’d always keep in touch by letter but that wasn’t very satisfying and it still hurt to be so far away from them. Things would never be the same as when they’d lived together. Why, it took over six months to send a letter and get a reply. She’d been expecting to hear from at least one of her sisters for the past few weeks.

Sighing, she finished getting dressed and went down to the kitchen to discuss the day’s work with Dot – she still wasn’t used to having a maid – then into the shop to see Zachary before it opened.

‘Feeling better now?’ he asked with a smile.

‘Much better. What are you going to do today? How is the new tea blend you created?’ She felt shut out of the shop, because only men served there and they didn’t like her even making suggestions openly, so she had to do that through Zachary, for his sake.

‘Blake’s Best Tea is selling well. Your uncle always said I had a good sense of taste and smell, and I think I’ve achieved as good a blend as he did. Today I’m going to look at the shelving in the shop. I’m sure we can arrange things more efficiently. I want your help there. We can study it together then draw up plans. So have a think about it.’

She loved the way he tried to include her. ‘Breakfast is ready now. You’d better hurry up or the shopmen will be here.’

Just as Blake’s Emporium was opening, the postman arrived at the house door with a letter from Australia. Pandora beamed at the mere sight of it. How marvellous that a small thing like a letter could come so far in safety! She blinked away tears as she traced out Xanthe’s handwriting on the envelope with her fingertips.

Closing the house door, she went to stand at the inner entrance to the shop, waving the envelope triumphantly at her husband. He grinned and waved back, knowing this letter would make her day.

Then she could wait no longer and hurried upstairs to the parlour to read it. A quick glance showed her that it was mostly in Xanthe’s handwriting this time. There would be inserts from both Maia and Cassandra, though, there always were.

Only there weren’t any inserts this time. It was a long letter in which Xanthe poured out her heart. And what she read both upset and delighted Pandora. It might mean she’d see her sister again.

And whatever Xanthe said, she didn’t think Maia would let her twin go so far away.

2

R
onan Maguire waited till he was alone to open the letter from his friend Conn in Australia, reading it with great interest and locking it away carefully afterwards in his travelling writing desk. His mother wasn’t above going through his things and as he could never stay angry with her, he found it easier to keep his private papers secure.

Down in the parlour he went to stand by the window, looking out over the rain-swept landscape at the big house at the far end of the drive. Ardgullan had been in the family for generations. It must be ten times as big as the dower house, where his mother had lived since she was widowed. His mother’s house was set back in a small patch of woodland near the gates and he sometimes wondered if the ancestor who’d built it had deliberately placed it as far away as possible from the main family residence.

An even heavier downpour pounded against the window panes. Fine summer weather this was! He heard his mother come in behind him and said with a sigh, ‘It’s done nothing but rain lately.’

She linked her arm in his. ‘This is Ireland. We’re famous for our rain. Why don’t you go for a ride anyway?’

‘I’d come back drenched and cold. That’s not my idea of enjoyment.’

‘Going to Italy and Greece spoiled you. Though I do get fed up with the rain too. But the gardener says it’ll be fine tomorrow. I haven’t ridden since I was a girl and I don’t miss it. So smelly, horses! I suggested your brother put in a croquet lawn at the big house. It’s all the rage, croquet. It’d give us something pleasant to do.’

‘Who would you play with? Our village is too small to provide you with any suitable partners.’

She shrugged. ‘I could play with you when you’re here.’

‘As I’m not here half the time, it’d be a waste. Hubert wouldn’t play. He’s not a sociable animal, my brother. Anyway, I doubt he could afford it. Have you seen the condition of the estate cottages? The whole village is in a sorry state. I wonder he doesn’t do something about that. It’s much more important.’

‘You’re always going down to the village and talking to common people. You should spend more time with people of your own class.’

‘I grew up with some of those men in the village and we played together as boys.’

She let go of his arm, moving away to fiddle with the ornaments on the mantelpiece. ‘Well, you’re not boys now. What you need, my dear, is to settle down with a wife and children. That would steady you.’

‘Hubert isn’t married and he’s the eldest. Turn your matchmaking on to him.’

‘I’ve got one or two young women in mind but he’s as stubborn as you. He says he wants to get the estate in better order before he thinks of marrying.’

‘Because of Father’s gambling.’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t comment on her late husband’s weakness for cards; she never had. ‘Well, at least my youngest son has married well and Patrick’s given me grandchildren, too – though they’re in England so I hardly ever see them.’

She’d been saying that sort of thing for years, introducing Ronan to a string of eligible young ladies, but he hadn’t met a single one who wasn’t a dead bore. Hubert hated social occasions and avoided them when he could, even though he was the landowner now. He avoided his own family too, preferring to sit on his own in the evenings. Ronan had never understood him and if they hadn’t been brothers wouldn’t have bothered with him at all.

His mother shook his arm to get his attention. ‘You’re not listening. Do think about finding a wife. I’m sure it’d make you happier.’ She flung herself down in a chair.

‘I doubt it. And I’d need a house to put a family in, which I don’t have.’

‘You’ve the money to buy one. You had a very comfortable legacy from your great-aunt Mary. You could live nearby and make your poor old mother happy. You’re thirty, Ronan darlin’. If you wait much longer, it’ll be too late for you to father children.’

He didn’t let himself smile, but he doubted he’d have trouble with that. He’d fathered one illegitimate child already and had seen it well provided for.

She began drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. ‘It’s all that travelling that’s unsettled you. Have you any idea how much I worry when you’re off on one of your trips?’

‘I’ve always been perfectly safe.’

‘Then perhaps you could take me with you one day. I get very bored here sometimes when you’re away.’

He’d hate to travel with her. She’d be fussing about every little thing. ‘I think you like your comforts too much to travel, Mother.’

‘It might be worth the discomfort. I get very lonely here when you’re away.’ She forced a smile. ‘Maybe one day I’ll surprise you all, and go off to see a bit of the world. London. Paris. Rome. You make them sound so interesting.’

The wind suddenly howled round the house and he thought longingly of warm, lazy days in Italy and Greece. But the less frequented parts of southern Europe weren’t very safe at the moment so he didn’t feel inclined to risk his life there till things settled down. There had been years of patchwork troubles, with the shifting of territories and minor kingdoms from Austria to Prussia to France. Who knew what would happen next? He’d no mind to run into danger.

‘Well, I’d better go and write some letters.’ He left her with her embroidery.

In his bedroom he unlocked the writing desk and took out the newest letter, rereading it carefully. He was very tempted to accept the invitation to visit Australia. Conn wasn’t guilty of conspiring against Queen and country, but his cousin Michael had given convincing evidence against him. All Ronan had been able to do was sort out the finances so that when his friend arrived in Australia, there was money waiting for him.

How could justice go so awry? Conn had received no support from his damned father, either.

Someone rode up to the front door. Good. A caller. That would cheer his mother up. But a few minutes later she called up the stairs, her voice urgent. ‘Ronan! Come quickly! They’ve just sent a message round from Shilmara. Poor Mr Largan has had a seizure and is like to die. We must call on Kathleen at once, to offer our sympathy and help.’

‘Didn’t I tell you I’d never cross that threshold again?’

‘You’ll respect our neighbour in his last hours, if you respect nothing else, Ronan Maguire, or you’re no son of mine.’

When she spoke as sharply as that he usually did what she wanted. And in any case, it occurred to him suddenly that if he did go to Australia, Conn might like to know how things were at his old family home.

‘I’ll go and have the horses put to,’ he called back.

When he came back into the house to tell her the carriage was ready, his mother met him, arms akimbo, cheeks flushed with anger. He looked at her in puzzlement. Fenella Maguire’s temper was mercurial at the best of times, but this sudden change of mood baffled him. ‘What’s upsetting you now?’

‘Your friend Conn seems to think you’ve agreed to go and visit him in that heathen place.’

‘You’ve been reading my letters again.’

She tossed her head. ‘And why should I not? You left the latest lying about. How was I to know it contained secrets? I’m your mother, aren’t I? And anyway, I’ve a right to read what comes into my own house. I’ll not have you going so far away! You’re staying here in Ireland and that’s my final word.’

Her prying made up Ronan’s mind for him. He was going, but he wouldn’t tell her that until he’d finalised his plans. No use trying to change her. She’d interfere in their lives and nag them for as long as she had breath in her body. She meant well, he’d grant her that, but he didn’t want her pushing him into a marriage like his brother Patrick’s, one where neither cared about the other, only about money and their position in county society. Ronan intended to follow his own destiny, wherever it led.

‘Are you ready to leave, ma’am?’

Something in his voice and the formal way he called her ‘ma’am’ instead of ‘Mother’ must have warned her that he was seriously annoyed. She looked at him a little warily, hesitated and when he said nothing more about Conn’s letter, put her hand on his arm and let him lead her out to the waiting carriage.

He could see Shilmara long before they got there, a sprawling, two-storey building on a rise overlooking a small lake. He’d not visited it since Conn sailed for Australia and wondered what they’d think of him coming here today. Well, who cared what they thought? He was here for Conn’s sake, not because a scheming, lying old man lay on his deathbed.

A groom came running to open the carriage door, whispering, ‘’Tis grand to see you again, Mr Ronan. Have you heard from Mr Conn lately?’

‘I heard only yesterday. He’s doing well in Australia, breeding horses. You know how good he always was with animals.’

‘And his mother?’

‘She’s in better health there in the warmer climate, though still not able to move about easily.’

‘It’s good to be hearing that. The poor lady used to suffer terrible bad from the rheumatism.’