The Irish Upstart (16 page)

“
But this is so unlike you. I never thought I’d hear you say these things.
”

“
I lay awake the night, reflecting,
”
answered Sinead.
“
At dawn, it all came clear. My love of Ireland has clouded my thinking. Don’t you see? Much as you don’t want to face it, I shall be gone soon. The girls will marry and be gone, too. So what is there for you to come back to? Timothy Murphy and his fishing boats? No, Evleen. You, with your beauty, your warmth and wit and charm were made for better things.
”

“
But Ireland is my home,
”
cried Evleen.
“
I want to come back. I want—
”

“
Men will adore you in England.
”
Sinead gripped her daughter’s arms.
“
Listen to me. There’s nothing for you here, child. Nothing except poverty, and want, and a marriage with a man you could never love. I know what’s best for you, and I know you must make a fine marriage in England. Just don’t do anything foolish. Always listen to your head, not your heart and you’ll do fine.
”

Still shaken from her mother’s astonishing turn-around, Evleen asked,
“
What if I don’t find a rich and titled Englishman?
”

With an amused smile, Sinead answered,
“
You will. Promise me you will. Before I die, I want to know your future is secure. It’s what I want for you more than anything else in this world.
”

A thousand objections crossed Evleen’s mind, but one thing she knew: she could never deny her mother.
“
I... suppose. Yes, I promise I shall try.
”

Sinead shaded her eyes and looked down the road.
“
Ah, speaking of Timothy, here he comes to say goodbye.
”

* * *
 
                                       

In the lower corner of the garden, Timothy, resentful and confused, looked down on Evleen, his brows pulled together in an affronted frown.
“
I cannot see why you are doing this,
”
he said.

“
It’s for Patrick,
”
Evleen informed him for at least the third time. She felt terrible. Timothy had dressed in his Sunday finest to come and say goodbye. He looked his very best in his grey frize coat, linen shirt with the collar fastened by a black ribbon, corduroy trousers with a bunch of ribbons floating at the knee. She wished with all her heart he would understand, but so far, nothing she said seemed to penetrate.
“
I must go with Patrick. He’s too young to go alone.
”

“
Ah, Evleen, why must you go so far away?
”

Why wouldn’t he listen?
“
It’s not so very far—only across the Irish Sea to Holyhead, then we take a coach to London, and then another to Hertfordshire, near Hatfield, to an estate called Aldershire Manor.
”

“
Names I never heard of.
”

“
But you will. I shall write as often as I can.
”

“
But when shall we be married?
”

This was going to be hard, but with her future as uncertain as it was, she knew she must be truthful.
“
We are not betrothed, Timothy. It would be unfair of me to promise I’ll marry you, when the future is so unsure.
”
There, she’d said it. She expected he’d be deeply hurt, but to her surprise, Timothy didn’t appear wounded in the least. It was if he hadn’t heard her.

“
I’m buying another fishing boat,
”
he said,
“
and by the time you return I’ll have built our new house.
”

“
Didn’t you hear me?
”

Before Timothy could answer, Mama called,
“
Evleen, are you ready?
”

“
In a moment, Mama.
”
Evleen gazed up at Timothy and thought how strange it was that now she was leaving she felt fonder of him than she ever had before. And he did look handsome in his Sunday clothes.
“
I must go, Timothy. I pray you understand.
”

“
Kiss me goodbye.
”
As Timothy pulled her into his arms, she felt self-conscious. This was no time to be pulling back, but despite herself, she sneaked a glance to where Lord Thomas had been hitching the two bays to the curricle. Good. His back was practically to her and he was examining the harness, not paying the least attention. Timothy’s arms encircled her. She raised herself on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his.

“
Sure and you can do better than that.
”
He crushed her against him and brought his lips hard against hers. They swayed for a long moment. She felt a ringing in her head until finally he let her go.

“
Oh,
”
she said, quite surprised. In the few times they’d kissed, he had never been this passionate before.

Timothy stepped away and looked down on her, his honest face shadowed with concern.
“
You won’t forget me now.
”
He cast a resentful glance at Lord Thomas.
“
And promise you’ll be careful of Himself over there. I don’t trust the man any farther than I could throw that fine carriage of his.
”

Timothy was bound to be jealous, Evleen thought, and hastened to reassure him.
“
The only duty Lord Thomas has right now is to escort Patrick and me to England. I hardly know the man, but he seems dependable. Mama likes him, anyway. He mentioned he plans to breed Thoroughbreds at his estate near Abingdon. I’m sure he’ll leave for there immediately after we arrive at Lord Trevlyn’s, so I doubt I shall ever see him again.
”

That said, Evleen could not prevent herself from sneaking another peak to where Lord Thomas was still busy checking the harness, oblivious to her and Timothy. A good thing, she thought. She would not have wanted Lord Thomas to witness hers and Timothy’s parting kiss and close embrace.

* * *
 
                                       

Thomas had to grip the harness and look out at the sea an extra moment to steady himself. He was shocked at the roiling wave of pure jealousy that surged through him when he observed Timothy Murphy slide his arms around Evleen O’Fallon. Never had he been a man to pry into the private affairs of others, yet, unable to prevent himself, he surreptitiously watched as Timothy’s hand intimately caressed the small of Evleen’s fine, straight back as he pulled her closer, ever closer, then crushed his lips to hers.

He must be crazy, but the sight of that Irish oaf kissing Evleen made him want to rush to the bottom of the garden and punch the fellow out. An absurd notion, of course. Timothy Murphy was not an oaf. He was a fine, upstanding, honest Irishman who would make Evleen a fine husband.
He
had better remember that. If this surprising spurt of jealousy struck again, he must guard against acting the fool. In fact, he would have to exercise the utmost control if he were to accompany this tantalizing woman and her brother clear back to England and hang onto the cool detachment he always maintained when dealing with women.

But I will
, he vowed, despite the fact he could hardly keep his eyes off Evleen O’Fallon.
How ironic
, he mused, thinking of the many beauties of the ton who had thrown themselves at him to no avail. He could not have cared less, despite their elaborate coiffeurs and beautiful gowns. Now here was this Irish girl, her hair worn simply, dressed in a gown that was hardly the height of fashion. He felt a pang of concern, thinking how the women of Aldershire Manor would scoff at Evleen’s coarse blue flannel gown and the yellow and pink shawl she had thrown over her shoulders with such artless grace. But what mattered fashion? What man would not be enchanted by her melodious Irish voice; the wealth of dark hair that swung with such allure about her slender shoulders; the knowing light that twinkled deep in those sapphire blue eyes? Yet, he must contain himself and never let his attraction show. For all her fire and beauty, Evleen O’Fallon could play no part in his future plans. If he married anyone, it would be Miss Bettina Trevlyn. Not now, of course, but some faraway day when and if he could get past the embroidery stitches. Papa not only approved, he expected Thomas to marry her. Not that Thomas did not have a mind of his own, but he, too, recognized that Miss Evleen O’Fallon was from a different world. Besides, she was betrothed to Timothy Murphy, was she not? Actually, despite the conversation at the table last night, he wasn’t sure.

Darragh had come to stand beside him. He nodded to the couple still standing at the bottom of the garden and asked,
“
Are they betrothed?
”

Darragh seemed to hesitate before she answered,
“
Indeed they are. Evleen is madly in love with him. They plan to marry as soon as she returns from England.
”

* * *
 
                                       

“
Goodbye, Mama,
”
said Evleen, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her tears.
“
I hate to go.
”

Tenderly Sinead gripped her arms.
“
Go to England. Keep an open mind. Yes, I hate the English, but I’m not so blind I cannot see how much more England has to offer than impoverished County Clare.
”

“
But if you feel that way, why don’t you come to England and bring my sisters, too?
”

Sinead smiled sadly.
“
Your sisters and I belong here, but you, with your strength, your wit and keen intellect, were meant for better things. In England, you will flower. Embrace every bit of it—the poetry, music, books, art. The glittering social life, the brilliant people. Learn. Enjoy every minute of your life. Never feel guilt and never feel obligated. And most of all, make me proud, Evleen.
”
She looked toward Lord Thomas.
“
He’s not a bad sort.
”

Evleen shrugged.
“
I suppose.
”

“
You’ll be thrown together on this journey. I worry.
”
Her brow furrowed.
“
Don’t you be falling in love with Thomas Linberry.
”

“
I?
”
Evleen asked skeptically,
“
fall in love with an Englishman?
”
She laughed derisively.
“
I grant you, he’s handsome enough, and rather charming, but he’s English, after all, and I shall never forget what one Englishman did to you and all our family.
”

“
Good, and if you find yourself attracted to him, remind yourself he possesses neither wealth nor significant title.
”

“
But find an Englishman who does,
”
Evleen replied warily. She still could hardly believe what Mama had told her a while ago.

“
I meant what I said, Evleen.
”

Evleen’s heart wrenched at the thought of leaving Ireland forever, yet if it was what Mama wanted...

“
I shall try,
”
she said over a growing lump in her throat.

Sinead hugged her tight.
“
Don’t be afraid. If worse comes to worse and all else fails, you can always come home and marry Timothy Murphy.
”

Chapter 8

Loughrea... Ballinasloe... Athlone...

The melodious names brought a flood of memories to Evleen as she, Patrick, and Lord Thomas began their trek. It had been nine years since she and her family traveled across Ireland along this very same Dublin-to-Galway Mail Post Road. Not much had changed. The village names might be as beautiful as ever, but the sad irony was, the countryside was still barren, the mud huts along the wayside still among the poorest she had ever seen.
I have changed though
, she thought wistfully. When she’d left Dublin she’d been a girl of fifteen, full of hope for the future despite the loss of Mama’s fortune. But now...

A flash of wild grief ripped through her. To leave her mother and sisters was bad enough, but Ireland too. Ah, how she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, not only because of Patrick, but she would not give Himself the satisfaction.