Destiny's Path (29 page)

The furious look Conn gave her made her blink and for once she understood that she’d really upset him.

Cassandra went into the kitchen to help Maia, seizing the opportunity to ask, ‘Do you want to come back and live with us now? You know you’ll always be welcome. We can easily build on another bedroom.’

Maia linked her arm in her sister’s for a moment or two and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. ‘Thank you. If I need somewhere to go, be sure I’ll come to you. But for the moment, Conn needs me.’

‘It’s not right for you to stay here, love.’

‘Isn’t it? I think it is.’

‘Maia, he’s not for you.’

‘I know that. But he needs me desperately. If that’s all I can do for him, be here in his time of distress, then I’ll do it gladly.’

Maia was glad when the visitors left, especially glad to be free of Kathleen’s scowls and pointed remarks. She watched Conn say farewell to them, then go and shut himself in the library, his main place of refuge from the world.

After helping Nancy clear up, she went into her bedroom and allowed herself to weep for the mistress she’d loved – and also for herself. She had so much love for Conn and didn’t dare show it openly but he’d said he wanted to marry her one day, if he could, so surely she could dream a little. She longed for a home and family, children to love and raise. His home, his children.

She knew her sister had similar feelings for Ronan. What a pair she and Xanthe were, ignoring the decent young men who’d tried to court them for years, and falling in love with two gentlemen.

Her father had told her tales of Eros, the Greek god of love, son of Aphrodite. If there was such a being, he had a lot to answer for!

After Mrs Largan’s funeral, Livia noticed a change in Kathleen. She’d never been exactly docile, because she was too used to getting her own way, but had settled down reasonably well, spending most of her days with the horses and sitting with Livia in the evenings.

Now she seemed to be having moments where her mind went blank, at least it did if her facial expression was anything to judge by. And she was talking to herself, breaking off and looking guilty if anyone came near her.

What was happening to her?

She was so different from Leo, who was also slow-thinking. He was innately kind and seemed to sense what would hurt someone. Even Kathleen responded well to him, because he knew so much about horses and was allowing her to help school Francis’s horses and to keep an eye on a pregnant mare.

Once or twice Kathleen fell into black moods and tried to quarrel with him but he simply stared at her then turned away to do some job or other. She would come stumping into the house to complain about him to her hostess, but Livia insisted he was in charge of the animals and knew exactly what he was doing.

In the evenings, Livia usually read to her guest, something which seemed to calm her down quite well. But now, instead of listening intently, Kathleen let her attention wander, jerking back to gaze at Livia as if she was listening, but not asking questions as she had before, just – staring.

Kathleen had nightmares too, thrashing around in her bed and waking everyone with screams and cries.

Livia began to understand that this life couldn’t go on and to think about her own future again. She didn’t want to spend her life tied to this strange young woman, but taking charge of Kathleen had given her time to adjust to her loss and think about her future, not to mention money to buy food without dipping into her meagre savings.

She knew for certain now that she didn’t want to return to England, where she had no one to turn to. But what did she want to do with herself? She started scanning the newspapers when she could get them to see if there were advertisements for governesses. Surely she could manage to teach girls?

In the meantime she was saving all the money Reece and Cassandra were paying her to use her fields for two cows they’d purchased, which made her feel safer. And she was learning from Orla of all people how to be frugal. Kathleen no longer seemed interested in having a maid look after her and Orla had turned happily to helping Livia.

Now that there was no Francis to make foolish purchases and insist they were necessary, Livia found she could live more cheaply than she’d expected.

After working out where her money went, she wrote to the bookseller in Perth to say that her husband had died and she could no longer afford to purchase books from him. She sighed wistfully as she looked at the letter, but it had to be sent.

But she also sent a message to the local shop that she wanted to receive her own copy of
The Perth Gazette
. It came out on Fridays but arrived later in the country. She’d have to send Leo to pick up her copy. Surely she’d find some form of employment in it? There were lots of advertisements.

When she went outside and looked at the sky, she sighed again at the sight of rain clouds building up to the west, because Kathleen was much harder to control when it was stormy. It was as if something unpleasant in her that was normally under control was stirred by the dark forces of the storm.

Livia hadn’t expected that and grew a little nervous, so asked Leo to help keep an eye on Kathleen in stormy weather.

He nodded. ‘The horses get edgy too. She’s more like them than like you, isn’t she? She’s not a real lady. Something inside her head doesn’t work properly.’

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings
, she thought. Now where did that saying come from? She spent a pleasant hour searching the Bible and found it in Psalms.

By that time Kathleen had come in, gone to wash and flung herself down in a chair.

‘Why don’t you do some embroidery?’

‘I hate embroidery.’

‘Ladies often keep themselves occupied with fancywork.’

‘I
don’t want to!
Read to me.’

In the end, for the sake of peace, Livia did this. But she lay awake and worried that night. Kathleen seemed to be behaving more and more strangely, and she couldn’t understand why her guest had changed.

By the time the ship got to Suez, Ronan was feeling much better, though he still grew tired more quickly than usual. He listened to the other passengers making plans to visit ancient monuments or go and inspect the diggings for the canal. He was worried that Xanthe would join them and delay him. He needed to get home as quickly as possible, but he intended to make sure she got home first.

He bribed the steward to find out what Xanthe was intending.

‘Miss Blake is intending to go and inspect the Suez Canal diggings, sir,’ the steward told him. ‘Thank you. Most generous.’ He pocketed the tip.

Ronan paced the deck, worrying about that, and wondered whether he could feign a relapse that required her attention. Then destiny intervened again, or chance, he didn’t care what it was called. One of the other passengers, a gentleman to whom Ronan had taken an instant dislike, attached himself to the group intending to go and see the sights.

He’d been making a nuisance of himself to Xanthe intermittently, but had stopped when his overtures got him nowhere. However, one evening Ronan found him trying to force himself upon her in a quiet part of the deck. He took the fellow by the scruff of the neck and threw him away by force, so furious he had trouble controlling himself.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked Xanthe after the fellow had slunk off.

‘Yes. Thank you so much for helping me. I can’t understand why he thought—Why will men not leave me alone?’

‘Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?’

She flushed and bit her lip, obviously embarrassed by this. ‘I don’t dwell on my appearance. Ronan . . . isn’t there some way I can stop them?’

‘No way has ever been found of stopping men lusting after a beautiful woman.’

‘
You
don’t annoy me with unwanted attentions. Nor do most other gentlemen. It’s just a few, like him.’

‘I think my mother brought me up with better manners. And besides . . . you and I are good friends, are we not? I’d hate to spoil our friendship.’

Their eyes met and for a moment neither said a word, then she nodded. ‘Yes, I too value our friendship.’

‘If you go on an expedition with that group, there will be no one to protect you. I doubt the Garstons will make the effort.’

‘Could you not come too?’

‘Not this time. I really do have to get home.’

‘Of course. I knew that really. I shouldn’t have asked.’ She crossed her arms across her breasts in a protective gesture. ‘In that case, I don’t think it’d be wise to go.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘It’s not fair. Men have such a better time in life.’

‘It’s not at all fair, I agree! Look, I know you want to travel, but please, Xanthe, take care where you go and with whom.’ At any other time he’d have delayed his own journey to escort her, but he didn’t want to do that. Not this time. Who knew what state everything would be in back at Ardgullan?

She looked so downhearted he ached to take her in his arms. But he didn’t. She was right that their worlds were too far apart. But apart from his duty to his family and the estate, he knew that other people would look down on her if he married her and make her life a misery. Or else they’d treat her as an oddity, just as some of the gentlefolk on the ship did.

‘Being sensible isn’t as much fun, is it?’ he said with a sigh.

‘No. But I
will
get to Greece one day. Whatever else happens, I intend to do that for my father. I shall investigate Mr Cook’s tours once I’m settled in England again. I’ve read that they take tours to Switzerland now. Surely going with a group would be a safe way to travel? There has to be a way.’

A few days after Mrs Largan’s death, Maia sat at the kitchen table, toying with her food and watching Conn eat his evening meal. He seemed lost in thought and hardly said a word. Afterwards he wandered out towards his library without offering his usual thanks for the meal.

He’d eaten very lightly, claiming he wasn’t hungry, saying he’d eaten plenty at midday. But he hadn’t. She’d prepared his tray herself and taken it into the library and she’d seen the tray when Nancy brought it back to the kitchen, with the food rearranged, but not much of it eaten.

In her usual cheerful way Nancy had suggested offering the leftovers on the various plates to the three stable lads, who came in daily from their nearby homes, one of them staying each night in case help was needed. They had no qualms about clearing every scrap of food and she was smiling as she brought it back. ‘I’ve gone hungry too often to see good food going to waste.’

When Maia went to bed that night she couldn’t sleep. She lay worrying about Conn, who hadn’t even gone out riding today, claiming he had accounts to attend to. But she’d walked along the veranda a few times to check on him and had seen him staring into space each time, not even aware of her presence outside the window.

She was just dozing off when she heard a door open and footsteps move along the veranda. The sounds had come from Conn’s bedroom. She could hear leaves rustling underfoot, which meant he’d gone out into the garden.

Getting up she hurried across to the glazed door that led out from her bedroom to the veranda and was just in time to see him disappearing along the garden path. She could guess where he was going: to his mother’s garden, the one he’d had cleared for her but which had never been finished because Mrs Largan had preferred to sit on the veranda. He’d gone to stand there a few times since her death.

Maia hesitated. It was none of her business if he chose to go walking at night. But whose business was it, then? Who was there now to care how Conn was feeling and jolly him out of his sad moods as his mother had? Ronan had gone back to Ireland, leaving no one but her. Such a lonely man, her Conn.

Well, she was here still, had refused to leave and go to live with Cassandra, because she knew he needed her. Flinging her shawl round her shoulders, she left her hair flowing freely down her back. Mrs Largan had worn little night bonnets and so had Mrs Kathleen, but Maia didn’t like being trussed up to go to bed. Even her nightgowns were simple affairs that she’d learned to make herself, hanging loose from a shoulder yoke, sleeveless in summer.

The night was chilly, with not even a memory of the heat of summer, but luckily it wasn’t raining and the three-quarter moon gave enough light for her to follow Conn along the path.

She stopped at the edge of the cleared space with its rough bench. He was standing there, hands thrust deep into his dressing-gown pockets, bare feet thrust into the felt slippers his mother had instructed Maia in making. She wasn’t a skilled needlewoman but was competent nowadays, thanks to her former mistress.

He didn’t even notice her, heaving a sigh and gulping as he pulled out a handkerchief and scrubbed at his eyes.

‘Oh, Conn!’ She’d spoken before she realised it.

He swung round. ‘Maia! What are you doing here? Is something wrong?’

‘No, nothing’s wrong. I heard you get up and followed you. I was worried about you.’ She moved forward, sure he needed a loving touch.

He took a step backwards. ‘Go back to bed, Maia. It’s not right for you to be out here alone with me. It’s not right for you even to stay at Galway House now.’