The Sword of the Banshee (3 page)

Mustering all her courage, she squared her shoulders and prepared for supper. She tore off her cloak and gown, soaked a towel in water and scrubbed the mud from her face and arms. She threw open her wardrobe, took out a fresh gown, and yanked it over her head. It took her several tries to put her hair up because her hands were shaking so terribly, but at last she was successful.

Taking a deep breath, India swallowed hard and opened the bedroom door. She told herself that somehow she could endure the night. Walking down the stairs, she vowed not to look at the man or allow him to talk to her.

The evening crept by at an agonizing pace. India was so preoccupied she did not notice the sumptuous array of food and furnishings her mother had chosen for the night. A pale yellow and pink rose centerpiece adorned the tabletop. It matched the stripes on the chair cushions of the new Chippendale dining room set which Lady Allen had commissioned along with new drapes. Supper consisted of game from the estate: pheasant, venison, and root vegetables. There was a pyramid of puff pastries for dessert along with Turkish coffee.

Ten guests were in attendance and Colm Fitzpatrick charmed them all, particularly Harriet Allen. He shared gossip from London, told stories of his years in Paris and flattered the ladies.

India picked at her food, keeping out of the conversation, wanting nothing more than to retreat to her room. She was grateful the guests forgot about her, chattering and laughing at the man’s stories.

When they retired to the sitting room for music, she watched Fitzpatrick maneuver himself so he could sit near her mother. It was then that India realized he was pursuing her mother. To India's horror, Harriet Allen seemed to approve.

Originally, Lady Allen wanted India to entertain the guests on the pianoforte, but when she saw the girl's pale drawn countenance; she withdrew the offer and asked her friend Lydia Turner to honor them with a song instead.

"I had hoped my daughter could have played this evening," she explained. "But I believe she is not well."

India dropped her eyes and blushed. Scottie Macleod, an ill-mannered landholder from Limerick bellowed, "With a dowry as large as hers, the girl need not sing for her supper!"

Everyone laughed except Lady Allen. She did not appreciate Macleod's base reference to India's dowry. Beside the fact that talk of money was vulgar, she did not wish it to be public knowledge that her daughter brought more money to a marriage bed than she did.

After Macleod's outburst, everything changed. Lady Allen grew stiff and tight-lipped, ignoring her guests. The object of her affection, Colm Fitzpatrick had suddenly cooled toward her, and he now treated her with a deference reserved for a matron. His eyes followed India around the room instead.

Lady Allen was furious about this turn of events, but she held her tongue. She now fully understood that as long as her daughter was unmarried, she herself had little chance of making a match, so the next day when Colm Fitzpatrick asked permission to court India, she gave her consent.

*             *             *

"Mother, you don't understand. That man is not who you think he--" but she dare not finish. Her mother would never believe her if she told her Fitzpatrick’s true identity. India's heart was pounding so furiously that she thought she would faint. Tears filled her eyes as she pleaded, "I do not want him to court me! Please, I beg of you!"

It all seemed like a nightmare to India. Within a few short hours, this wicked man had appeared like a malignant spirit and bewitched her mother. She felt like a lamb being lead to the slaughter. She wanted to bolt out the door, run through the woods and up to the mountains to hide forever. Searching desperately for an escape, India looked at all her options, but only one presented itself. She decided to tell her mother the truth.

Wringing her hands, she swallowed hard and said, "Mother, I--" and she faltered. "I know this man already. I first met him on All Hallows Eve years ago when I was with Lorna.’

Her mother frowned and knit her brow.

“I saw him at the ruins of Cragmere dressed as a demon.”

Her mother stared at her.

“It is true, Mother! You must believe me. I would know him anywhere. I know his smell. I fainted--"

Lady Allen's jaw dropped, and she stared at India as if the girl was mad. "Of what do you speak? A demon! What nonsense is this?"

Lady Allen swept over and put her hand on the girl's forehead. "You are overwrought. Sit down and drink some water." She handed her a glass and studied her face. "You will say nothing of this again."

Lady Allen turned and walked to the window. She clasped her hands tightly as she looked at dark mountains rising up over the lake. She remained quiet as if deep in thought then finally said, "I am sorry, India, but it is the way of it. We females must marry out of need. I was young once too, a long time ago. I knew love but--"

Clearing her throat she turned back to India. Her stone face had returned. "Our choices are few, but we must suffer in silence.”

India stared at her. Slowly she realized that she was on her own. She could depend on her mother no longer. From this day on, her mother would go one way and she another. Their paths would never cross again. On this day, their relationship ended, and in one afternoon, India Allen's childhood ended. She stood up and without a word left the room.

*           *            *

The following day, Colm Fitzpatrick called on India. Outwardly, the girl was courteous and polite, but on the inside, she was terrified. Even though he was shorter than India, the man seemed larger than life. His clothing was of the latest fashion, his nails were manicured meticulously, yet he always smelled of sandalwood. India wanted to gag. When she looked at him, all she could see was the hideous mask of the jester.

Fitzpatrick knew she was anxious, and he slowly encouraged her trust. He spoke quietly and tenderly. When he came for tea or for walks along the lake, he insisted Lady Allen be in attendance to make the girl feel secure.  He would bring small gifts to her each day; a ribbon for her hair, a hankie or a nosegay. Always at the end of their meetings, he took India to a bench or under an arbor to be alone with her for only a short time. As the weeks passed, he kept her for longer periods and spoke more privately with her.

One sunny afternoon, he decided to speak of the past. He used his gentlest tone and said, “Miss Allen, there is something which I must address.”

India was startled and looked into his narrow eyes. She knew immediately what he wanted to discuss and jumped up from the bench. She believed there could be no decent explanation for the macabre spectacle on All Hallows Eve, and she did not want to speak of it. Her heart began to pound, and she felt as if she was suffocating. She took several steps and he took her arm, gently urging her to sit back down.

“Please listen to me, Miss Allen. That night so long ago is not what is seemed. Please, please allow me to explain.”

Reluctantly, India sat down on the edge of the bench. She sat straight-backed, looking at her hands and fighting the urge to bolt. The wind off Loughlorcan suddenly felt cold, and she started to shiver.

Fitzpatrick slipped his satin topcoat off and put it over her shoulders taking her icy hands in his own. “What you saw that night so long ago was not a group of goblins dancing by the fire, my girl," and he smiled, shaking his head. "It was not what you think at all. It was merely a brotherhood of Irish farmers setting out to take back their lands. The English aristocracy took their farms away banishing them from their fields, putting up fences for grazing animals instead. The people were angry and so was I because English sheep were feasting as the Irishmen starved.”

He smiled indulgently. “Our meeting must have looked ghastly to you, but it was entirely innocent. All we did was to tear down a few fences in a show of solidarity.”

He squeezed her hands and smiled. “You were an impressionable child. You didn’t understand. There is a wide world of trouble out there, and some day you will understand. I am affiliated with these groups no longer. I am nothing more than a boring solicitor now.”

India stared at him, her lips parted, rain running down her face. Colm studied her intensely, as if memorizing her every feature. He said nothing more, expecting nothing in return.”That night India did not sleep. She stared at the ceiling trying to make sense of Colm’s words. His explanation seemed plausible, but her intuition told her otherwise.

India pulled the duvet more closely around her. She looked down at the moon beams spilling across her plum-colored carpet. She wanted to believe Colm Fitzpatrick. She wanted to trust him and allow him to take her away, but if she was going to marry this man, she had to believe his words. Everything he told her made sense, nevertheless something seemed terribly wrong.

*           *            *

Several days later, Colm called on India. This time he was dressed more informally and not wearing a wig. He saw the look of surprise on her face and said as they walked, "Do you approve? It is very warm today so I decided against a wig and all the formal attire."

"Yes, it is nice," she said softly.

India stole a look at him from under her parasol. She thought he looked better and less dandified today. For the first time she saw his true hair color. He had brown hair graying at the temples which was combed back in a loose queue. He wore a blue topcoat, tan waistcoat and breeches to match. She found that she preferred his natural hair.  It seemed less harsh than the severe wigs he had worn previously.

He leaned near her and said, "Your eyes are usually as gray as gun metal, but today they are a soft green. Please tell me. Are you happy to see me today?"

India did not answer, but instead watched the game keeper’s son by the lake. He was tossing a stick into the lake as his new setter fetched it. The dog loped in and out of the water drenching the boy each time he shook his coat. India laughed.

"That is the first time I have heard you laugh," Colm said, smiling and moving his face close to hers.

India stepped away. They resumed their walk along Loughlorcan. Colm began asking India about her progress on the pianoforte when suddenly the dog started running back and forth along the shore, barking frantically. India looked for the boy, but he was gone.

She saw Colm’s eyes searching the lake. Suddenly, he shed his topcoat and bolted down the trail leaping onto a ledge, pulling off his boots.

India gasped when she spotted the child floundering in the lake. The boy reached for help then disappeared under the surface leaving only a few bubbles. Colm dove in the lake as India dropped her parasol and started to run.

To her horror, Fitzpatrick burst to the surface empty handed. He took another breath and dove under to search for the child again. When he broke the surface, this time he had the boy in his arms.

India gasped with joy then clutched her stays. The child had been so close to death, and her heart raced. She watched the child wrap his arms around Fitzpatrick's neck as he swam to shore. When they emerged from the lake, Colm seemed shaken but relieved. India staggered to a tree, leaning on it for support still panting.

Fitzpatrick squatted down to examine the boy. The child was crying but had no injuries. He called to India, "He is unharmed!"

In a few hours, news of the rescue spread across the valley. All the servants of the manor, the tenants and other landholders buzzed about it. Harriet Allen provided Colm with dry clothing and a large glass of brandy. He declined supper preferring to go home and rest instead. India watched his carriage roll down the driveway then she turned slowly and walked back to the lake.

She sat on a stone bench facing the setting sun. Brilliant reds and oranges streaked across the water and a light breeze moved her hair, but she did not notice. Her thoughts were on Colm Fitzpatrick. She had seen a side of him she never would have believed. She doubted herself now and wondered if perhaps she had misjudged him.
Maybe he saved the tenants at Cragmere Ruins, the way he saved the boy this afternoon.

As she walked back to the house, India Allen decided to accept Colm Fitzatrick's offer of marriage. 

Ballyhoura Mountains 1769

Chapter 3

Ballydunne looked small to India from her perch on the mountain top. All the years she had lived in the valley, she had never seen her home from this peak of the Ballyhoura range. As she stood on the cliff, she examined the gray stone manor covered in vines, the manicured gardens bordering the lake, the stables and the winding tree-lined drive. She knew these things were vulgar reminders of English supremacy, yet it had been the home of her youth and she still longed for it. Her mother had married several years ago and moved away from the valley. Now a distant cousin inhabited the estate.

The wind snapped India's skirt and tangled her hair. She thought about the day her father had told her that her birth mother was a tenant farmer, and for the first time in her life, she felt close to the woman. At last she had come home to her people.

Impatiently, she brushed back a tear. She felt foolish showing any feeling about the old house. Even if she wanted to return home it was now impossible. She was married to an enemy of the Crown, and she herself was an outlaw.