Virginia Henley (13 page)

Jonathan O’Reilly did not consult his doctor in Bolton. After spending the first day home in bed, he arose as usual the second day and went to the mill.

Kitty seized the chance to go visit her grandfather. She took her tarot cards so he could give her a reading. She was too superstitious to read for herself.

“What burden is weighing your shoulders down, lass? Unload it.”

Kitty, relieved to have a sympathetic ear, blurted, “I was seduced … against my will!”

Her grandfather looked at her keenly. “By the father, or the son?” he asked shrewdly.

“Patrick John Francis O’Reilly,” she whispered.

He nodded, “Good. Better you should have your first experience with a young stallion like that.”

“My God, men are all alike. You all stick together!” she shouted wildly.

“Gently now, little one. Young men are virile; it’s a fire in the blood. They lose control once they’re teased and aroused.”

“I didn’t tease and arouse him!” she said indignantly.

“You were born with the instinct. You fan your great
lashes and they sweep across your cheeks, then you flutter them upward and smile, so a man’s heart turns over in his breast. Your sharp, little white teeth show between your parted lips, then the tip of that pink tongue darts out so a man would die just to put his mouth on yours. You sigh so deeply your titties swell over the neckline of your gown and your black silk curls bounce about your shoulders so a man’s fingers can’t resist the impulse to play with them. You are too tempting for any man with red blood in his veins.”

Kitty was speechless. Was this the picture she presented to the world? He was exaggerating, like every Irishman who ever drew breath, but only a little, she finally had to admit.

“So there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Is he going to set you up?”

“I don’t want to be his mistress. I hate making love! But oh, I wish he would marry me.” Her own words shocked her, for she had not realized until this very moment that she still loved him in spite of everything. When a man entered a woman’s body, he penetrated her soul and left behind a trace of himself that could never be completely erased.

“Be sensible, Kitty!” He spoke sternly for the first time. “Patrick couldn’t marry you if it were his dearest heart’s desire. A man in his position has a responsibility to his family to marry well. He’s related to the nobility through Julia’s marriage now. Surely you wouldn’t expect him to sacrifice himself for a Gypsy wench who serves in his house as a scullery maid?”

“Don’t be so brutal,” cried Kitty, her face white with pain.

“Life is brutal, Kitty. We have happy moments and happy hours, but not happy lives. Come to terms with it, learn to bend with the wind or be broken by it,” he said quietly. “If you dislike being intimate with a man, choose someone older. Older men aren’t filled with the burning lust that
plagues young men. Choose a man who will not be demanding in bed and before long you will be so unsatisfied you will crave a man with vigor.”

“Will you read the cards for me?” she asked.

“I’ll do the Celtic cross.” He began to turn over the cards, speaking as he laid them out.

“Queen of swords—very dark coloring—many clouds and storm warnings, nothing will come to her easily.

“King of pentacles—self-made man, king of all he surveys, an authority figure, one who won’t be managed by a woman.”

He turned the third card. “The Lovers—but alas, it’s reversed. Means unrequited love, lovers’ quarrel, breakup, separation.”

He turned the fourth. “The Star—idealism of the young, wishing on a star.”

He turned the fifth card. “The fool—you have a choice in life—no matter which path you choose, there lies your destiny; learn by your mistakes.

“The magician—symbolizes the four elements: earth, air, fire and water. Your destiny will include all four.

“Death …”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear any more,” cried Kitty.

He gestured to her to be quiet as he peered intently at the cards. “It could mean a physical death, but also that things get worse before they get better. Always remember, Kitty, death is followed by resurrection.”

Kitty looked dismayed. “I shouldn’t have bothered. I only wanted to know about marriage.”

He chuckled and took her palm. “You’ll have at least three husbands; it says so right here.”

She shook her head, still distressed but trying to smile. “I’ve got to get back now. Take care of yourself, Grandada.”

*   *   *

Jonathan O’Reilly fell into the habit of dining with Kitty every evening. Then they would play dominoes.

“How about half a crown on this next hand, lass?” said Jonathan, laughing. “But what will you put up?”

“Oh, I don’t need to put up anything; I’m going to win!” She was as good as her word and deftly pocketed the half crown.

“By gum, you’re sharp. You’ve been in the knife drawer again. I’d like to see the man born who could outsmart you, Kitty. You’re just like a tonic, lass.” He beamed at her.

“You really have made a remarkable recovery. I can’t get over it. It’s as if there never was anything the matter with you,” marveled Kitty.

“Very likely wasn’t a stroke in the first place,” scoffed Jonathan. “Doctors like to make you think you’re sicker than you are, then they can stick you with a big bill. I wasn’t born yesterday. There’s not many as can put one over on me.” He winked. “Like you, eh, Kitty?”

“Oh, you really were ill, Mr. O’Reilly. Your aura went the most ghastly shade of brown.”

“My aura? What’s that, lass?”

“Well, you know, it’s the light that surrounds you. The color can tell all sorts of things about your health and your character.”

“That’s just Gypsy hocus-pocus. Surely you don’t really believe in all that.”

Kitty said with a laugh, “Don’t tell me you aren’t superstitious—you’re always throwing salt over your shoulder when you spill it and you go around knocking on wood.”

“You’ve caught me out,” he said and smiled. “Tell me about this aura.”

“Well, while you were ill it turned muddy brown, but now it’s gone to a sort of pale orange shade, so you are a lot better. When you are in full health and running the mills and
ordering everyone about, it glows a bright yellow. That shows you have a lot of energy. When you lose your temper, the edge becomes tinged with red.”

“Me? Get angry? Never!” he protested. “Tell me: Does everyone have one of these auras?”

“Yes. Julia’s is red and Barbara’s is a lovely shade of blue.”

“What’s yours?” he asked.

“I’ve been told it’s a pale violet,” she said, and thought silently, and Patrick’s is a deep, vibrant purple. She suggested, “Would you like me to read your palm for you?”

He offered his hand, palm up, fingers curled upward.

“Right away I know you are careful with money. Your hand is cupped to keep what you already have. If you fling your hand open with the fingers spread, it means that money just runs through your fingers. Do you see the difference? You have a very square hand. That means you are practical with a good deal of common sense. Your palm is longer than your fingers, which shows you are a doer rather than a dreamer. You would have made a success out of any line of work you went into. Your thumb is very strong and thick at the bottom. That means you like to be the boss. Your mound of Venus is very fleshy.”

“Where’s that?” he questioned.

“Here, this fat pad at the base of your thumb. That means you love luxury. You overindulge in food and other things. The tips of your fingers are a little blunt, which indicates that you are stubborn and would have your own way if it killed you.” She laughed.

“Enough of my character. What about my fortune?” he prompted.

“You’ve already made your fortune, Mr. O’Reilly. As to your future, all I can tell you is the usual Gypsy hocus-pocus. You will meet a dark, mysterious stranger. You are going on
a very long journey. You will be granted three wishes,” she joked.

There was only one wish he was interested in. Kitty had been on his mind a lot lately. He wanted to obey his longings and give in to the physical impulse of fornicating with her, but he was fearful of getting a taste, then having the sweets withdrawn, to leave him starving. She’d be off with the first rich young blade who propositioned her. What did he have to bind her to him? “Bugger it, I’ll ask her to wed me,” he decided. “My children will play hell when they find out,” he thought, and his face lit up with anticipation at the thought of the scenes they would create. He didn’t want a life of furtive sex, hurried gropings in the dark and creaking floorboards to alert the servants. No, by God, he wanted to be able to pull her onto his knees and fondle her in front of everyone if he so fancied. After all, how many years did he have left? He was going to throw his cap over the windmill. They’d say he was in his dotage, but let them! Meanwhile he’d be enjoying that silken little wench.

The next day he put up the mills for sale. Bugger it all, he would retire! At dinnertime he could contain himself no longer. “You have it within your power to make an old man very happy, Kitty. Will you wed me, lass?”

She was taken completely off guard. The idea never had entered her head. She knew he had come to depend on her company and he was able to be himself and relax and be comfortable in her presence.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” she said honestly.

“Say ‘yes,’ lass. You won’t be sorry,” he urged.

“Well, I’d like to see my grandfather before I give you my answer. I’m not yet sixteen you know, Mr. O’Reilly,” she temporized.

“Mmm, that is a bit young, but I think your grandfather
can be persuaded to give his consent. Why don’t you nip around and see him tonight? Do you want me to come with you, love?”

“No, thank you, Mr. O’Reilly, I think I’d better go alone.”

“Call me Johnny,” he urged.

Kitty faltered. “I … I couldn’t.”

“Well, Jonathan then. Go on, try.”

“All right, Jonathan.”

“That’s it, love. Now you go and get your cloak and I’ll order the carriage for you.” He patted her knee in a fatherly fashion.

Kitty’s head was in a whirl. All she could think of was that she would be Patrick’s stepmother. If she agreed to this marriage it would put her out of Patrick’s reach, and at the same time be a subtle revenge. She would have a lovely home and an easy life. Jonathan O’Reilly had always treated her kindly. He was quite old, but hadn’t her grandfather pointed out what an advantage that could be? He obviously just wanted companionship because he was lonely. She probably could have her own bedroom, as Julia intended to do. When Kitty arrived at the little shabby house, she asked the driver to wait for her. Inside she found her grandfather bathing the children before a meager fire as Ada sat nearby, huddled pathetically. Kitty noted her swollen body. “Is your time near, Ada?”

“I’ve another month to go yet, bless you, but it moves about so much, I swear it’s got four arms and four legs.”

One of the children started crying from hunger and Kitty felt guilty that she had life so easy these days. She quickly felt in her dress pocket and came up with the two half crowns she had won from Jonathan at dominoes. She pressed the money into Ada’s palm, but she shook her head. “Give them to your grandad. My husband would have them off me for
drink before you could say Jack Robinson,” Ada said pathetically.

“I have some news. Jonathan O’Reilly has asked me to marry him and I’m so confused I don’t know what to do.” She appealed to her Grandad.

He looked at her for a few minutes, then shook his head. “Nay, lass, you must decide your own future. I won’t advise you either way.”

Ada got to her feet very deliberately and took Kitty’s hand. Ada spoke earnestly. “He might not advise you, but I will. You’d have to be daft to refuse to wed a millowner. That’s riches beyond your wildest dreams! No worries about where your next stick of firewood is coming from, or mouthful of bread. You’re bound to outlive him and be left a rich widow. Remember this: All men are selfish and have violent tempers and know how to make a woman miserable, so you might as well marry one with money. All cats are gray in the dark, if you know what I mean.”

Kitty looked at her poverty-stricken surroundings and made up her mind.

It was getting late as the carriage made its homeward journey. A thought crept into Kitty’s brain which she couldn’t dispel. When Patrick brought Barbara home and learned that Kitty had agreed to marry his father, there was always the chance that he could not bear such a thing to happen and would demand that she marry him instead. At Hey House silence greeted her and she realized everyone had gone to bed. She lit a candle in the front hall to guide her up the stairs and as she moved quietly past Jonathan’s bedroom, the door opened and a voice asked, “Is that you, Kitty?”

“Yes, Mr…. yes, Jonathan. I’m late because I stayed to help put the children to bed,” she apologized.

“Come in, lass, I’m that impatient for your answer. I’ve been waiting hours.”

He had a robe over his nightshirt, but Kitty had seen him in this state of undress many times while she had been nursing him. She set down her candle on a table by the window and said shyly, “I’ve decided to become your wife.”

“Sweetheart!” he cried and enveloped her in a smothering bear hug.

“Please, please, I can’t breathe,” she cried, horrified, but his mouth came down on hers, suffocating her even further. His mouth was soft and flaccid and she shuddered with distaste. His hands took hold of her buttocks and squeezed and pressed her against his hardening member. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he was a robust old man with much more strength than she had dreamed possible. “No, no, I beg you, Mr. O’Reilly, you must stop!”

He was very excited and tried begging her. “Don’t deny me, sweetheart. Just let me put it in.”

“No, no, let me go!” she implored, repelled by his crudeness.

“Don’t fight me, Kitty,” he begged. “Can’t you understand how I need you?”

He had her on the bed now, his great bulk on top of her. It was like a nightmare. Kitty couldn’t believe that this was happening to her. She had thought that nothing could be worse than Patrick’s ravishing, but he was so physically attractive and his touch had made her quiver, while this assault only made her shudder. His face hung above hers. The mouth with the unnatural lift at the corner leered down at her, as his hands grappled with her long skirts to raise them above her waist.