Fields of Fire (13 page)

Taylor quickly walked up to meet her, gave her a brief embrace and a kiss on the cheek. He led Unity to where she and Hug were standing.

The graceful, raven-haired woman exchanged greetings first with her and next with Hug. Although she was dressed in a drab black gown of mourning, Unity was beautiful. Hug kissed Unity’s hand in the same manner he had Jalene’s. However, he refrained from any flirtatious comments. Jalene was certain Unity’s being in mourning discouraged such actions.

“Let’s sit,” Taylor suggested, and motioned with his hand to do so.

The foursome seated themselves around the tea table. Jalene sat next to Hug on the sofa, and Unity and Taylor in the oval-backed chairs across from them.

“How do you like it here around Lough Erne?” Unity asked Jalene. “Have you ever been to this part of Ireland before?”

“This is my first time this far to the northwest. We never traveled beyond my aunt’s home in Dundalk. It’s so scenic here compared to the meadows where I grew up.”

“I know what you mean,” Unity said. “I’ve lived here for only a few years. My husband, John, inherited the property next to the Traynors after his father died.”

Jalene noted her faraway expression as she continued. “I miss him terribly, but Taylor has been a great friend and source of comfort.” Her smile indicated her fondness for him. She reached over to Taylor and patted his arm.

“Aye, I’m sure he has,” Jalene answered sincerely, yet she was a bit disturbed by her last statement and unsure why.

Hug leaned back against the sofa in a comfortable manner with a puzzled expression on his face. “Why is it I never met Unity before today?”

“You know I’m not much for entertaining, and neither is my father. Your visits to Knights’ Head these past several years have been infrequent—due to your own interests and the assignments we received that have taken us elsewhere. Need I go on?” Taylor asked his friend.

“Nay, that about covers it,” Hug answered, in good humor.

“Taylor tells me you’re staying here for refuge,” Unity addressed Jalene. “If I can be of assistance in any way, please feel free to call on me.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” Jalene managed to respond in a civil manner although she wanted to attack Taylor verbally. The nerve of the man getting angry over her sending out one note when he told Unity and who knew who else the circumstances for her residency at his estates. She glanced from Unity to Taylor, now understanding that their relationship was closer than she realized. She didn’t know what bothered her more, that observation, or his confiding in the woman.

Her expression apparently hinted at her thoughts, for Unity interrupted them and said, “I assumed Taylor told you about me. You needn’t worry. I care very much for him.” She reached for his hand and held it a moment. “I wouldn’t do anything to endanger either of you, and didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Of course.” Jalene shrugged, indicating that no further discussion was necessary. This woman’s actions appeared sincere. Why blame her for Taylor’s shortcomings? “I understand you may have information,” she said, turning to Hug.

Hug fidgeted in his seat and glanced in Taylor’s direction. “Nothing too much.”

“You can speak in front of the ladies,” Taylor assured Hug. “Unity is completely trustworthy and Jalene has a right to know anything about Donnegan.”

“The Colonel,” Hug eyed first Unity and next Jalene at his side, “that’s our commander, Hume Cahill. Well, he attended a grand ball at Dublin Castle where he met a Lord Tidwell. The man talked to the colonel about visiting with friends in Enniskillen. The subject of children arose, and one topic lead to another. You see, this Lord Tidwell has six children and ...”

“Would you get to the point, Hug?” Taylor interrupted.

Hug breathed deeply. His barrel-chest expanded to alarming proportions. “While Lord Tidwell was in Enniskillen, a lad was reported missing. It turned out the boy ran away like Taylor’s tenant’s son.” He paused to sip his brandy. “It seems this last lad was seen with a woman, Nelly Lambert—the same woman our old friend Donnegan rescued from the dragoons.”

Taylor frowned and leaned forward, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair. “Are they positive she is the same woman?”

“As much as they can be. The witness described her quite frankly. From what I understand she was rather well endowed for someone so petite in stature.”

Taylor blatantly stared at Jalene’s chest before he grinned and addressed Hug again. “Her gown indicated as much.”

“What?” Hug asked, clearly confused.

“Never mind, it’s not important. Was the lad’s association with Nelly simply a coincidence, or is there a connection?”

“That’s all we know.”

“It doesn’t make sense that they would risk visibility so soon after she escaped questioning.” Taylor turned his attention to Jalene.

“Aye, you think they would lie low for a while,” Hug said.

“Perhaps it was an error in communication—an accident,” Jalene added, emphasizing this last word to Taylor. She knew Taylor’s bold gaze at her chest had been intended to remind her of Nelly’s gown and how she came nowhere near to filling it. She glared at him and hoped her expression warned him that he might meet with an accident himself, if he continued along this vein.

Taylor choked in the middle of sipping his brandy, trying to conceal his mirth, but neither Unity nor Hug picked up on the cause of it.

“At least you now have a starting point,” encouraged Unity. “Will you both be going off to Enniskillen?”

“Only to ask a few questions. I’m sure if Donnegan was there, he left by now,” Hug said.

“Do be careful, won’t you? That man sounds so dangerous.” Unity turned to Taylor at her side.

“Don’t worry,” Taylor said, and winked at Unity.

A nauseous wave of dismay passed through Jalene at his gesture and the obvious display of affection he held for the woman. Momentarily, jealousy tugged at her heart before she shooed it away, as ridiculous. She was on a mission—no matter that she hadn’t the slightest clue or idea where to begin to achieve it—to find James’s murderer and prove Blackwater Distillery legitimate.

“Let’s eat.” Taylor broke into her thoughts. “Biddy mentioned earlier that any time after Unity arrived we could begin supper. I doubt she meant to wait this long.”

“Jalene,” Hug stood up and offered his arm to her. She looped her own through his, and they followed Taylor and Unity into the dining room.

Once they’d seated themselves, the serving lass whom Biddy had solicited to help with the evening meal, magically appeared carrying a tray with bowls of wild celery soup. Additional assorted plates soon followed. She tasted portions of Dutch cheese, deviled crab, chicken with onions, grilled salmon, fillets of veal, mushrooms, carrots with cream, and leeks in cream sauce. Yet she saved enough room for the almond cream dessert.

“Salmon doesn’t get better than what you fish out of Lough Erne.” Hug neatly folded his linen napkin and placed it in front of him on the table. “That, along with Biddy’s preparations, makes an unbeatable combination.”

“Aye,” Jalene agreed and set her silverware atop her plate. “I can’t remember any fish as delicious as this coming from the Blackwater River.”

“The Blackwater River?” Hug’s face showed surprise and what skin his beard didn’t hide, paled almost as fast. “Is that near the Blackwater Distillery?”

“Aye. What is the matter?” Jalene asked, concerned that Hug should react so strangely to her words.

“’Tis nothing,” he said and immediately contradicted those words and glanced over at Taylor. “I must confer with you privately.”

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us for a moment.” Taylor’s face was expressionless as he followed Hug out of the dining room.

Jalene glanced at Unity, who shrugged and shook her head, clearly as perplexed by Hug’s behavior as herself.

“Don’t fret.” Unity leaned across the table and patted Jalene’s hand. “The brandy has fuzzed his senses.”

Jalene absentmindedly traced the rim of her water glass with her finger as the two sat in silence before she spoke up.

“It was when I mentioned the Blackwater River and distillery that Hug changed. Did I say something wrong?” Jalene asked.

“Not as far as I’m concerned, but I’m sure we’re about to be told.” Unity nodded in the direction of the door.

The bewildered expression Hug wore, coupled with the somber countenance of Taylor as they reentered the room, warned Jalene something was amiss.

“I’ve learned an interesting fact that you might want to know, sweetness, but then again this may be old news to you,” Taylor said, sarcastically.

“What? What has happened?” Jalene rose to her feet, the prickly sensations of fear stabbing at her skin.

“A shipment of illegally made whiskey was recently confiscated near Sligo.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Jalene flustered under his scrutiny.

“The casks carried the Blackwater Distillery markings and weren’t on the register for export,” Taylor answered.

“You think my brother had knowledge of this before he was murdered, or that I do. Well, you’re wrong.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sure the casks were either stolen, or the smugglers forged the markings.”

“Each and every cask that carries these markings is expertly carved and stained with black and red dye,” Taylor countered. “No smuggler would bother with those details himself, but he would more than likely pay a fair price to use the casks. If the casks were inspected, their authenticity wouldn’t be questioned.”

“If the goods were confiscated, someone questioned it.” Jalene pointed out.

“That’s because the casks were found concealed.”

“Why would we agree to take such a risk—to put ourselves and our livelihood in jeopardy?” It didn’t make sense to her.

Taylor responded with impatience. “There is no great risk. Manpower is limited, and in tough times, it’s easy to pay someone to close their eyes. Yet, for practical purposes and for that remote chance of getting inspected, appearances must be kept.”

“That doesn’t prove we were involved.” She confidently spat the words at him.

“Nor, does it prove you weren’t.” He snapped back at her.

“Now, Taylor,” Hug intervened. “I only mentioned it, so you would be aware of it, not because I think the lady is guilty. Hell, if she hadn’t mentioned the Blackwater River, you never would have known about this particular shipment.”

“Don’t let her innocent appearance fool you. I’ve seen such a facade all too often—for who would suspect a lady of quality—one of the supposedly gentler sex—as a criminal?”

Instantly, Jalene reached for her dessert plate and attempted to crack it over Taylor’s head. Taylor swiftly grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she released the plate into his other hand.

When he released her wrist, she ignored the pain there, stepped back from the table, and deeply inhaled several times to regain her composure. She was furious. How dare he question her integrity! With her shoulders back and head held high, she said, “I can forgive your narrow-mindedness, and even your presumption of my guilt. It can’t be helped when your brain is the size of a pea.”

She faced Unity. “I’m sorry. Perhaps we’ll meet again under more pleasant circumstances. Good evening.” She marched from the room without sparing another word or glance to either man.”

Chapter 9

At midnight Jalene quietly turned the doorknob and poked her nose out from behind her bedchamber door into the vestibule. Nothing stirred. The entire household, including the Captain, had at last retired for the evening. She slipped out, closing the door as silently as she had opened it. If Taylor caught her, it would be another incident to make her appear guilty. So be it. At the moment, Wil’s coming to Knights’ Head worried her more than how Blackwater Distillery whiskey came to be confiscated as illegal.

In his letter, Wil had asked her to meet him at ten in the morning by the waterfall at the village of Belleek, some five miles away. If she failed to meet him, he would assume she was being held against her wishes, and it would leave him no recourse but to come to her aid. He, too, was worried and needed to see for himself that she was unharmed.

She grabbed the cool, smooth railing with one hand and lifted her skirts with the other. Then she tiptoed carefully down the staircase in the darkness. When she reached the passageway leading past Taylor’s library, she noticed a stream of light from a crack under the door and froze. He was still awake. What if he chose this moment to open the door? She ignored the chill that swept over her and swiftly passed the room, silently cursing the rustling of her skirts. They sounded unusually loud in the otherwise quiet of bedtime. At an adjoining passageway, she scampered around the corner and paused, waiting for the click of the library door and footsteps sounding in her direction. When all remained silent, she hurried out a door in the rear of the manor house.

Once outdoors, she calmed herself, relieved to have gotten thus far. Although she feared dark enclosed places, she was not especially afraid to be outdoors at nightfall— unless she let her imagination run wild. Determined to conquer the night noises and visions of a headless apparition chasing her, she hurried to the stables. Damn, Will. Why couldn’t he have sent news by courier?

Fortunately, Tyrone recognized her immediately and refrained from barking. Instead, he whimpered in delight, pleased by her late night visit.

“Sh, Tyrone,” she whispered, scratching the beagle’s neck. “No one must know I’m here.”

A nearby horse whinnied. She squinted into the darkness in that direction. Dear Lord, I’m not sure I can do this, but I have to try. She rubbed her arms to warm herself a bit against the shivering. The same horse whinnied again, and when she approached, she saw Taylor’s stallion, Aristotle. The brief experience of sitting upon the animal with Taylor’s arms around her convinced her to ride him.

She remembered watching James and her father saddle horses, but the technique was too vague in her mind to attempt to do so with Aristotle. However, putting a bridle on him seemed easy enough. She searched the stable, found a bridle, and nervously shoved the bit into his mouth and looped the reins over his head and neck. With the help of an oversized pail, she awkwardly mounted the horse, bareback. After pausing a moment to calm herself, she leaned forward over Aristotle’s neck and tightly gripped the reins before tapping her heels into his side, sending him into a trot in the direction of Belleek.