Kilpara Page 22

  “What do you know about my family?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You must know they built Kilpara. Owned it for three hundred years, a lot longer than one generation I’d say. You’d think under the circumstances your father would honor a small favor from a family with such a long history.”

  “You may consider my father’s actions unjust, but it doesn’t excuse what you did.”

  “I never intended to own Kilpara.”

  “Well, Mr. O’Donovan you do own it. But my father will never let you have it. You’ll receive a fair price from Charles.”

  I waved my hands in exasperation, slapping at the wind. “Look, I don’t give a damn about Charles Sloane or your father’s pride and dignity. My concern is my mother. Once this matter is over I’ll be leaving.”

  “For America,” Morrigan finished.

  I moved closer. “Do you want to marry Sloane?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt myself reeling out of control. The coldness mixed with disappointment in her eyes was like an icy hand reaching inside my heart. I wanted to bring back their warmth, the smile that affected my every mood. I wanted to feel her hands entwined in mine, to see trust in her face again. Frustration made me reckless. I cupped her face in my hands and bent close. She didn’t flinch or move, just continued to stare back with her cold gaze. I let my hands caress her cheeks briefly and then dropped them.

  Morrigan turned back toward the carriage, stopping after a few steps to pause next to water cascading noisily over stones. “I shall be going now, Mr. O’Donovan,” she said softly.

  “Don’t call me Mr. O’Donovan,” I whispered moving behind her and stroking her long hair. She didn’t move away.

  “Come with me to America,” I heard my voice plea.

  She whirled around to look at me, her gaze stunned with disbelief. “What obtuse insinuation are you making now, Mr. O’Donovan?”

  “I—umm—I didn’t mean anything improper.”

  “What do you mean? Haven’t you done enough damage? Is there no end to you deviousness?”

  “I—umm—” I couldn’t tell her that I didn’t want her to walk away. And I sure as hell didn’t want her to marry Sloane. I longed for her warmth, her touch. But too much damage had been done. She hated me now.

  She looked at me fully. “You are despicable, Ellis O’Donovan. I would never go to America. This is my home, Galway, Lough Corrib, Kilpara.”

  I turned away and leaned against a chestnut tree. It was quiet for a moment and then I heard the sound of her footsteps leaving. I wanted to go after her but couldn’t move. How certain she was about what she wanted; she wouldn’t change her mind. Yet life back home without her would seem empty. Hadn’t countless sleepless nights already proven that? I couldn’t bear the thought of her marrying Sloane. In that moment, I realized I was willing to give up Baltimore, my career, my life, Astelle. I was willing to stay here in Ireland. But in her present state of mind, she would never believe me. Yet if I didn’t stop her now, she would walk out of my life forever.

  I began running. When I caught up to her, I moved in front of her. She stopped and I placed my hands on her shoulders. “What if I stay in Ireland? What if I were to come courting?”

  She looked at me bewildered. “What?”

  I kissed her, stopping her protest.

  She didn’t resist. She just remained stoic. Gradually, despite herself, her lips responded soft and warm.

  I let her go and she looked at me confused.

  “Must you continue to humiliate me?” she said.

  “Marry me? I’ll stay in Ireland. I must be near you.”

  She spoke with caution. “You don’t belong here. You belong in America.”

  In response, I took her back in my arms, wondering if I truly understood the decision that I had no intention of making before this very moment.

  After I released her she said, “You’re behaving recklessly, Ellis. You’re breaking all conventions and causing me embarrassment.”

  I smiled.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “You called me Ellis. Will you consider my proposal?”

  She appeared puzzled, but she was no longer angry. “If you mean what you say, you should take your proposal to my father and seek his permission to come courting.”

  “Your father won’t receive me, remember?”

  She stared at me for a long moment, and then seemed to make up her mind. “Come back with me to Kilpara right now. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “If you mean what you say.”

  “He'll never accept me.“

  She laughed softly, and I began to feel a faint surge of optimism. “We must begin to set things right, if I’m to believe and trust in you.”

  I nodded, and we walked together to the carriage. My rash decision that should have weighed so heavily began to feel lighter than air.

  I paced downstairs while Morrigan talked with her father upstairs. Eventually she came down and guided me toward Purcenell’s bedroom. He sat in a large armchair in his smoking jacket.

  He scowled when I entered the room. “You must know, Ellis O'Donovan, I don’t agree with my daughter letting you into this house, so I don't. You’re not welcome here. You tricked me to get Kilpara. You're an imposter and I don't trust you. But she pointed out because I made a wager, which I’ve no intention of honoring because you’re an O’Donovan, that I should listen to you. I’ll give you one minute to explain yourself. After that I want you gone for good.”

  “I've already told Morrigan that I don’t intend to keep Kilpara,” I said firmly.

  Purcenell glowered. “It was never yours to own.”

  I ignored his remark. “All I ask is that my mother and father be buried in the O'Donovan graveyard.”

  He regarded me warily. “So my daughter says. But you’re a deceiving scoundrel. Pretending to be American when you’re Irish through and through. I’ll do anything to get rid of you; so if burying your parents on Kilpara soil will settle this affair, I’ll grant it. Nothing more.”

  “That’s all I want,” I said. “Except, I do have one more request. My mother has asked to visit Kilpara, to see the home again where her married life began with my father.”

  Purcenell glared then turned away leaving the air filled with tension. He looked toward his daughter, regarding her for some seconds before finally speaking. “You’re asking a lot, O’Donovan,” he said, his voice thin. “This is as far as I go. If your mother is as ill as you claim, then she shall have her visit.”

  “We'll be happy to receive your mother and your aunt, you too, of course,” Morrigan agreed.

  Her father frowned, but she continued to smile benevolently at him.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  Afterward, Morrigan walked with me to the gatehouse. She smiled at me as I prepared to mount Brazonhead, happiness lighting up her face at the outcome of the meeting with her father. It had been a major achievement to get Purcenell to invite my mother to Kilpara. Despite his outward disagreeability, it was apparent I had backed him into a corner. Refuse me the question of my parents’ resting place and I might pursue ownership of Kilpara. Grant me my request and I would go away leaving everything as it was. He could stand tall, claiming he had been duped by an imposter, an Irish emigrant at that. Having had a glimpse of how landowners viewed the Irish, he would receive the sympathy of his peers. What he didn’t know yet was that I intended to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage.

  CHAPTER 15

  Purcenell remained true to his word. He sent an invitation to Mother. Aunt Sadie and I worried about how the visit might affect her, especially after what happened at the Burke home and its ensuing consequences. For all our concern, it turned out more successful than we could have imagined. Mother appeared contented during the drive, a look of euphoria spreading across her face when she saw the house. Unlike facing the difficult past of her family home, her reaction to Kilpara was a joyous on
e. She announced it looked so much like Stonebridge; the only thing missing was Eileen at the front door to greet us.

  “Your father and I carried this picture in our minds for years before we built Stonebridge,” Mother said. “If only he could be here with me to see it again.”

  Purcenell made an effort to be a gracious host. His welcome was amiable but forced. His gaze lingered on Mother, seemingly hopeful to detect some underlying evidence her condition was deceptive, proving his suspicion that O’Donovans were nothing more than Irish thieves. He viewed Aunt Sadie no better, consciously holding back grimaces that threatened his composure. His barely concealed resentment appeared to escape the notice of Mother and Aunt Sadie who pleasantly accepted their host’s hospitality.

  Lunch had been arranged in the garden. Throughout the meal of watercress sandwiches, fruit and goat’s cheese, I wanted to reach over and touch Morrigan's hand. It took all my willpower to resist the temptation. We had agreed to keep the details behind Purcenell’s invitation from Mother and we pretended not to be acquainted to avoid rousing her suspicions. I managed to convince Morrigan the truth would only worry Mother and we couldn’t afford that risk with her health. So everything was made to appear as if Purcenell had agreed to this courtesy visit. Mother and Aunt Sadie looked curious, however, when I asked Morrigan to show me around the grounds.

  Mother sighed when we excused ourselves. “To be that young again,” she observed. Purcennell surprised everyone by promptly responding. He had been restrained throughout the meal, providing only meager conversation. “Yes,” he agreed now, “I lost my beautiful wife years ago. Morrigan was her gift to me. Seems like it was only yesterday.”

  “It must’ve been difficult raising a daughter alone,” Mother sympathized.

  “My sister helped, and I’m grateful to her. But it wasn’t the same. The girl needed her mother.”

  “Of course she did,” Mother said.

  “I never got over losing my precious wife, so I didn't...”

  The conversation faded as we moved out of earshot. We walked leisurely away from the large stonewall structure venturing far enough to view Lough Corrib and its dotted islands. On our return, we stepped inside the gazebo that stood out on the lawn and overlooked the grounds. Our parents were visible through the wooden lattices; we watched them nod conversationally toward one another. Mother had somehow managed to strike the right accord with Purcenell, frail as she was and only a shadow of herself. Sadly, I thought, if circumstances were different, these two archenemies might have grown to like each other.

  “Your mother is an extraordinary woman,” Morrigan said, with obvious admiration in her voice.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “And so are you.”

  “I never could’ve done what she did. Learn to live in a rugged country like America and make a life for her family there.”

  Determined not to spoil this moment with heavy thoughts I said lightly, “She’s a strong woman, adaptable to change.”

  Morrigan looked at me intently. “Will you be happy here, Ellis? Won't you miss your home back in America?”

  “I’m sure I will at times. But I’ve made my choice. The right one, to spend my life with you.”

  Morrigan squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.

  Tearing my gaze away from her face, I nodded toward our parents. “Do you suppose if this visit goes well, I can approach your father?”

  “I’ve been pointing out your finer qualities to him,” Morrigan said easily.

  “He’ll never believe you. Just days ago you hated me. It was only when Gully Joyce delivered my letter that you acknowledged me. You didn’t respond to any of my correspondence or requests.

  Morrigan looked down at our entwined hands. “Gully convinced me I should meet with you even if it was only to tell you how I felt.”

  “You talked to Gully Joyce yet ignored my attempts to contact you. Why?”

  “You remember when Daphne’s horse took fright and nearly ran me down and I told you I was almost thrown from a horse when I was a child. Well, Gully was the jockey who saved me that day. He has a special place in my heart. He persuaded me to talk to you, to hear what you had to say. But I felt so betrayed. He said I should face you or such feelings would fester if I didn’t.” She looked at me directly. “But I never expected things to turn out like this.”

  Privately, I praised Gully Joyce and felt indebted to him. I let my eyes wander away from Morrigan in the direction of Purcenell. “Your father is a stubborn man. He won’t accept an O’Donovan for a son-in-law.”

  “He will come around,” she said with determination. “You’ll see. Look at him now.” Purcenell sat relaxed, looking amused at something Mother said. “See,” she said grinning, “He’s already changing his mind.”

  I had my doubts that Purcenell would ever change his mind. But then I had seen how Morrigan could persuade him. When we rejoined the trio, Aunt Sadie and Mother smiled benevolently, but Purcenell drew a resigned breath.

  That was one of Mother’s better days. A week later, she had a bad spell. This one left her weaker than before. I spent time quietly at her bedside while she rested. She struggled to recover. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t asleep. She squeezed my hand instead of trying to speak.

  “I’ve something to tell you, Mother,” I whispered. Her eyes fluttered open and she attempted to smile. “You remember Morrigan—Purcenell’s daughter? You met her at Kilpara?” She looked at me quizzically. “I’m going to ask her father's permission to court her.” Mother tried to speak then, but I put my finger against her lips. “Save your strength,” I said, smiling at the question in her eyes. “I know we’ve just met, but I’m completely taken with her. She’s beautiful, she’s perfect.”

  Mother sighed and closed her eyes.

  That very night I feared the end had come. I was awakened by Trista's pounding on my bedroom door. “Ellis, Ellis, wake up please—hurry—” Shrugging off the yoke of sleep, I jumped out of bed and pulled my robe on over my pajamas.

  “It’s your mother,” she said, when I got to the door. “Come quickly.”

  I followed Trista to Mother’s room, instinctively putting on the antiseptic apron that Aunt Sadie insisted we wear during those moments when she worried most about infection. Mother lay in Aunt Sadie’s arms, coughing up blood and struggling for breath, seemingly confused about where she was or who was around her.

  I took Aunt Sadie’s place and held her. “Easy, Mother,” I said, “We’re all here. We’ll help you.” The coughing and rasping and spitting up continued in spurts throughout the night. Aunt Sadie’s concerned face told me that she feared the worst. But as daylight crept through the window, and the weary faces around the bed looked worn and bleary-eyed, Mother’s breathing began to ease and her struggle to inhale air became easier; there was no more spitting up blood. At last Aunt Sadie declared the episode over. She assigned two of her most experienced nurses to keep vigil at Mother’s bedside and stumbled back to the convent to rest. I insisted on staying and pushed two chairs together. The last thing I remembered was the ticking of the clock and gentle hands laying something warm over me.

  It was early afternoon when I awoke. Mother’s breathing was rough but even. She was still sleeping. The housekeeper arranged a warm bath for me and food was brought to my room. That evening, Aunt Sadie warned me to expect more episodes like the one we’d just witnessed. Tears filled her eyes. She said in all her years of being a nun she had never asked God for anything for herself—until now. She prayed for more time with her only sister, whom she didn't want to let go just yet.

  Mother surprised us all by making a good recovery, though with diminished strength. Two weeks later as we sat together quietly, she said, “You’ve become fond of Morrigan.”

  Her words came out sounding like a statement rather than a question.

  “I think I’m in love with her,” I said.

  Mother fell silent for a moment. “She’s a girl who’s very close to her roots. She’ll nev
er leave Ireland, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you be happy here?”

  “I think so.”

  “This is an agricultural country and you never liked farming. It takes a lot to maintain an estate like Kilpara.”

  “There’s Galway with connections to Dublin and London. I can begin an agency there and hope there's a need for financier services.”

  “People are poor here, although there are the landed gentry. Still, it’s not Baltimore.”

  “I've taken that into consideration.”

  “Love may not be enough to sustain you, Ellis. You’re bound to miss the excitement of city life sooner or later.”

  “She’s become my reason for living.”

  Mother seemed satisfied with this and smiled a sad smile. “I never dreamed this would happen. If you’re so sure of your feelings for Morrigan, then perhaps you shouldn’t wait too long before proposing marriage.” Taking her diamond ring from her marriage finger she took my hand and laid it on my palm. “This was handed down through the O’Donovans. It belongs to the mistress of Kilpara. I don't have much time left, I’d like to see my youngest son settled before—before—”

  “Don’t, Mother. Please.”

  She folded my hand shut. “We’ll never be parted, you and I, not truly.”

  I rode over to Kilpara the next day to call upon Morrigan. I found her in the garden sitting before a canvas, paintbrush in hand. She smiled up at me when I dismounted and stood before her. Taking the paintbrush from her hand and setting it aside I said, “I have a question I must ask.” I looked into her eyes and went down on one knee. “Morrigan Purcenell, I can’t imagine my life without you. Please say you’ll be at my side throughout the rest of our lives. I love you. Will you marry me?”

  Morrigan’s eyes danced with excitement.

  “Well...?” I urged.

  “Yes, Ellis O’Donovan. I’d be proud to be your wife.” She dropped down beside me and threw her arms around my neck. There, on our knees, I solemnly placed Mother’s diamond ring on her finger.