Kilpara Page 23

  “Shall we find Father?” she asked happily. “To explain why you didn't seek his permission first.”

  We found Purcenell in the library deeply engrossed in correspondence. He looked up at our flushed faces.

  “What is it now, O’Donovan?” he growled.

  I moved to stand before him. “I would like to ask your permission to marry Morrigan,” I said, coming straight to the point. “As soon as possible.”

  “You what—?” Purcenell sputtered, slamming down his pen and standing up with such force that his chair tumbled backward. A prominent vein in his forehead pulsed and I wondered if he might try to strike me. Instead he shook his finger at me and looked directly at Morrigan.

  “You can’t be considering marrying this fellow?” he spat, sounding distressed. “He’s an O’Donovan and hardly trustworthy. First, he comes here and tries to steal our home away from us, then he demands that his parents be buried at Kilpara after which he imposes himself and his mother upon our household. And now, he’s asking permission to marry you. What next? He’s a scoundrel, a clever manipulator. If you weren’t here, I’d order him away, so I would. Much as I hate to say it, you’d be better off marrying Charlie Sloane.”

  Morrigan moved closer to her father. “I know this is difficult for you to understand, Father. But I do trust Ellis and I know he’ll treat me well. He’ll be a good husband.”

  “He hasn’t done anything to prove that his motives or his character are honorable. From my perspective, he’s a villain who has no scruples other than some ill-conceived notion of revenge. Given time, he’ll reveal himself to you. For the love of God, child, take a good look at him and see him for what he is. If you’re smart, you’ll turn away from him this minute. Where’s the rush anyway?” He let the silence grow. “This fellow will stop at nothing to get Kilpara back. He’s using his mother’s condition to take advantage of your good nature.”

  Morrigan said nothing. Her father’s rant had made its mark. I had to speak up or risk losing her. “I would be skeptical, too, in your position, sir,” I said, startling Purcenell. “You must admit my mother is very ill. You saw her condition for yourself. I’ve told her about my feelings for Morrigan, and it’s her wish to see us married while she can still attend the ceremony. Time is of the essence. I promise you, sir, I’m devoted to Morrigan. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy.”

  Purcenell scowled. “So you want to marry my daughter to please your mother? Is that it?”

  “No, sir, I love Morrigan. My mother’s condition, if anything, has made me see how precious life is, and how much I want Morrigan to be my wife.”

  “Fiddlesticks.” Purcenell looked at his daughter. “Morrigan?”

  I held my breath.

  “I love him, Father.” Morrigan looked at me, and we held each other’s gaze.

  “Humph.” Purcenell cleared his throat and we both turned. “And where do you plan to live? I’ll not allow my only daughter to go gallivanting off to America.”

  “With your permission, sir, we'd like to make Kilpara our home.”

  Blood rushed to Purcenell’s face, turning it purple. He pounded his fist on the desk “I knew it, you scheming rat. It’s Kilpara you want, not my daughter. You’ll ask her to marry you to get your hands on the estate. I want you to leave. Now!”

  Morrigan walked around the desk and looked into his face with pleading eyes. “Father, please try to be reasonable. Ellis doesn’t have to marry me to own Kilpara. He can hold you to the bargain you made. He asked me to go to America with him. But I rejected the idea because I want to stay here at Kilpara. If you refuse to give us your blessing, then I will go to America. Please say you approve.”

  Purcenell was silent. Morrigan didn’t move. He gave a long sigh of resignation then looked at me and said, “This is blackmail, O’Donovan.” He turned to Morrigan. “You’re my only daughter. I’m against you marrying this—this—fellow, but I couldn’t bear it if you ran off to America in the middle of the night with him. So if there’s no changing your mind, other than my forbidding you to marry him, then I won't withhold my blessing. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Morrigan beamed at her father.

  “As to the question of this early marriage,” Purcennel continued, showing signs of a man who has been dealt the worst possible blow, “I object, but if you’ve already agreed, the engagement will be announced and you can marry in September, here in the church at Kilpara. Soon as the banns are read.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “Your mother used to love that little church. She meditated there every day.”

  Morrigan threw her arms around her father’s neck hugging him. “Thank you, Father.” Her gesture brought a sad smile to his face.

  When Morrigan and I left the library and went outside, I swung her around. I didn’t care who was watching as we kissed, sealing our promise to each other.

  Our engagement was announced in the Galway Gazette, which sparked rumors and whispers throughout the countryside. Purcenell began making preparations to move into the east wing, so that when the time came, the main wing would be ready for Morrigan and me. Co-habiting with the older man was going to be difficult. In time, I hoped we could learn to tolerate each other. But that was the least of my concerns.

  Soon after our engagement, we were sitting on the convent grounds sharing a picnic lunch when Morrigan brought another announcement to my attention. It was on one of those warm days that were growing rare. We had brought Mother outside to lie on a chaise lounge.

  Morrigan was reading aloud from the newspaper. She paused suddenly and pointed to an article that headlined Sir Charles Sloane of Larcourt, Lough Corrib, Galway to Marry Lady Daphne Thornton of Devonshire, England. It went on to say, 'Sir Charles Sloane of Larcourt and Lady Daphne Thornton of Devonshire, England, have announced their engagement recently. The nuptials will be held 16 April, 1867, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Devonshire, England. A wedding reception will follow at Glenside Manor, the bride's home. Congratulations may be sent to Lady Daphne Thornton at Devonshire, England, or to Sir Charles Sloane, Larcourt, Lough Corrib, County Galway.’

  The news came as a surprise. Inwardly, I wondered how the dark Daphne had manipulated Sloane into proposing. He had reacted strongly to Morrigan's refusal to his marriage proposal and to the news that she had agreed to marry me. Upset and angry, he came to the convent one night, drunk out of his mind and yelling my name. I came outside to find him staggering around. He uttered some unintelligible words, and then attempted to swing at me. He missed. I grabbed him from behind and strong-armed him into the kitchen. There I found some left-over coffee which I insisted he drink. He immediately pushed it away, slopping it over the table. Then he broke down crying, saying that he loved Morrigan and had done so for a long time. If I were a decent fellow I'd go back to America so that she'd agree to marry him. I felt sympathy for the man but tried not to let it show. It took several attempts to convince him it was Morrigan's choice whom she married. He stumbled away from the convent and back to his carriage shouting obscenities as he went. Fortunately, the nuns were attending evening prayer service and were spared his garbled rants. I guessed he had turned to Daphne in this tormented state who had taken advantage of his vulnerability and snared him into marrying her.

  Later that night, after I escorted Morrigan back to Kilpara, I faced the task of writing to Astelle. I had been putting it off, and as I gathered my thoughts I realized how unfair I had been. I contemplated my fate as I wrote:

  My Dearest Astelle,

  When we said goodbye in Baltimore, I never thought that I would leave behind my life there permanently. I came to this island so far from home, expecting only to deposit Mother on its doorstep and hurry away from its shores. Instead, this very voyage to Ireland has sealed my fate in a way I never expected.

  It pains me to tell you I have become enchanted with Morrigan Purcenell, an Anglo-Irish girl that has captured my heart. My feelings for her are such that I feel compelled t
o marry her. I hope you will forgive me for not returning to you, for breaking a promise I had intended to keep. I beg your understanding and forgiveness, although I don’t deserve such consideration. Please know it is my deepest wish that you, too, will someday find deserving happiness.

  Yours,

  Ellis

  After that, I wrote a letter to Emmons resigning my post. I implored him to understand my reasons to stay in Ireland and not return to Baltimore. I went on to thank him for the years of training and mentoring I received at his firm. Then, remembering his plans for Clara and me, I wrote to her wishing her well and offered my sincere hopes that she would someday find someone to love her as deeply as I loved Morrigan. I addressed all three letters and, in doing so, closed the door on my past.

  As August came to a close, Morrigan, her Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Sadie pored over final preparations for the wedding. Prayers were being offered daily for Mother’s health. We agreed it was better not to subject Mother to the trip to Kilpara for the wedding, even if it meant having the service in the chapel there held special meaning for us all. Everyone concluded it was less risk to have the ceremony at the convent. We spoke with the Reverend White who had known Morrigan all her life and who showed sympathy for our situation. He agreed to perform the ceremony provided it met with the approval of the Mother Superior and Father Matthews. Fortunately, the pastor was well-known throughout the community as a kind man and tolerated by the residents who were mostly opposed to his Protestant faith. Aunt Sadie immediately accepted this arrangement and Father Matthews offered no objections.

  With the final preparations underway, I suggested I move into Kilpara after the wedding, but Morrigan was adamantly against it.

  “It’s too far away from your mother,” she objected. “You’re needed here. Kilpara can wait.” I was grateful for her understanding, and showed this by taking her in my arms and kissing her passionately. Soon afterwards, her personal belongings began to arrive and were stored in my room in anticipation of our marriage. I was pleased that she visited the convent almost every day and spent time with Mother telling her stories about growing up at Kilpara. Mother listened contentedly. During her better moments, she joined in with stories about the early years of her marriage when she was a young bride newly arrived at the house. In a very short time, a bond had sprung up between the two most important women in my life, one that wove them together through experiences and feelings for the home they both loved.

  Taking a stroll around the convent grounds one evening, I left Morrigan discussing wedding cake ingredients with Aunt Sadie and her Aunt Margaret. I watched the sun begin its descent in the west and contemplated how quickly the past was fading and the future was taking over. So much had happened. It was getting harder to remember my life before Ireland, before Mother’s illness. I thought about Stonebridge and my brothers and what they would think about Ireland and Kilpara. I was so deep in reverie that I heard Mark’s voice clearly in my mind. It persisted without any prompting, leading me to wonder why I was imagining things.

  “Wiz—Wiz— Hey Wiz,” came Mark’s insistent voice. It seemed so real that I turned toward the sound. An unbelievable sight faced me. Mark was striding across the convent grounds. It had to be a mirage. I stood transfixed.

  “Wiz, it’s me—Mark,” he shouted.

  I ran toward him even before I even knew I had moved. “Mark, it is you, it really is you.” I grasped and felt him to make sure he was real. We stood staring at each other, afraid to trust our eyes, unable to believe we were together here in the flesh. Dazed, we began walking back toward the carriage. Another shock awaited me when Dan got out and looked around curiously, hat in hand. A second carriage pulled up and out stepped Eileen, Seamus, Rengen, and Jasmine.

  I hugged them all in turn. “Put your eyes back in your head,” Dan said, as I stood back open-mouthed.

  “Need a pinch, Wiz?” Mark said. I gave him a friendly shove and laughed.

  “Didn’t you get our letter?” Dan asked

  “What letter?”

  “We wrote and told you we were coming.”

  “It hasn’t arrived,” I said.

  “Never mind that. How’s Mother?” Dan asked, looking worried.

  We began walking toward the convent. “Not good, but she’ll feel a lot better when she sees you.”

  We all went inside the convent. Morrigan, her Aunt Margaret, and Aunt Sadie looked at our strange little party in gaping surprise. Rengen stared at Aunt Sadie in her nun’s habit, having never seen a nun before. Aunt Sadie stared back having never seen a man as tall and black as Rengen before.

  Aunt Sadie recovered first. “Ellis…?”

  I provided the introductions.

  “We had no warning,” Aunt Sadie apologized.

  “We sent a letter,” Dan said.

  “It must’ve gone astray. But never mind that now. You’re here safe and well and we’ll make immediate preparations. You must be worn out after your journey, and no one to greet you.”

  “Some kind people at the Traveller’s Inn in Galway found us carriages and grooms for hire,” Dan answered, unperturbed.

  Hospital staff and nuns gathered around to inspect the Americans who had converged on their quiet little world. Trista smiled widely.

  “May we see our mother, Ma’am?” Dan asked.

  “Yes, yes, of course, Aunt Sadie said, but please call me Aunt—or—Sadie. Trista, take the lads to see Ann.”

  Trista indicated to Dan and Mark to follow her.

  Rengen looked around at the nuns and nurses. “Are all’s them nurses? And why do theyse wear funny clothes?”

  “No.” I nodded toward the nurses in starched uniforms. “Those are nurses like Trista. They wear white uniforms and blue pinafores, which means they’ve not taken religious vows. The others,” I nodded toward the nuns in black habits, “those are nuns who are called Sisters. They’re not related to each other, they’ve just taken the vows of the same religious order and beliefs.”

  “Sisters? Hmmm. All’s them?”

  “Yep.”

  “What's religious people doing at a hospital?”

  “Their religious vows commit them to caring for the sick,” I explained. “They’re called the Sisters of Mercy.”

  Rengen scratched his head. “It don't make no sense no how. And your aunt?”

  “She’s the head nun. The Sisters call her Mother Superior.”

  “Shoo, shoo,” Aunt Sadie said, to the gathered crowd. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to stand around and gape?” The group began to file out. Aunt Sadie recovering from the shock was in charge again. “We must prepare somewhere for you to stay. You’ll want to freshen up and get something to eat.”

  “Point us in the direction of the kitchen,” Eileen said, beaming. “Jasmine and I will help to prepare the food.” Jasmine who stood behind Rengen peaked around at Eileen when she mentioned her name. Eileen took her hand. “No one will hurt ye here,” she reassured the frightened Jasmine.

  “There’s luggage to put away, Mother Superior,” Seamus said.

  “You may do that once the Sisters have prepared your lodging,” Sadie said.

  “Mast’r Ellis, where we’se be staying?” Rengen asked, eyes large and round.

  I grinned. “You’ll stay with Mother and me over yonder in the building for visiting priests and nuns. I pointed across the lawn. The nuns live here in the convent.”

  Rengen looked relieved.

  “Them Catholic priests here are like them ones back home?”

  “The very same.”

  Satisfied, he walked over to Aunt Sadie.

  “Tell me what chores youse needing done, Ma’am—er—Mother Superior.” He turned a wide grin on me. “Youse got some wood that be needing split?”

  Aunt Sadie wiped her forehead. “No, but I’m sure there’s turf to be brought in for the fires.”

  Rengen looked bewildered. “Turf?”

  “Follow me,” Seamus said. “I’m sure I’ll
find it.” They started toward the door.

  “Wait.” Aunt Sadie called out. She looked at Rengen, walked around his strong body before asking, “Would you mind helping out in the hospital on occasion?”

  Rengen's brows knitted together. “What youse meaning?”

  “My nurses have difficulty lifting patients, returning them to their beds and the like. Would you mind assisting them, once in a while?”

  “That be all right, I suppose,” Rengen said cautiously.

  “We’ll talk more about it after you’re settled,” Aunt Sadie said.

  Rengen and Seamus went out to bring in turf and to unload the luggage. With everyone tidily taken care of, Aunt Sadie flopped into a chair.

  “What an impressive family,” Morrigan’s Aunt Margaret said with awe.

  Morrigan giggled and came over to where I stood. “They certainly are different.”

  When we gathered for dinner that evening, it was my turn to shock my brothers. I announced my betrothal to Morrigan. They immediately toasted our nuptials and welcomed Morrigan into our family. It was easy to see she had already won them over with her green-gray eyes, genuine smile, and gentle manner.

  The little building for visiting priests and nuns had never seen so much activity. Seamus and Eileen visited Mother as soon as they were allowed, their visit filling her with nostalgic happiness. She was no longer afraid of her illness or its discomfort and talked about it in spurts with Dan and Mark. There were tears of regret and love as she explained her real motives for returning to Ireland. My brothers began to accept all this amid long walks and talks around the convent grounds with Aunt Sadie and Trista.

  Rengen quickly got over his surprise of the Sisters at Mercy Hospital, and they gratefully depended on him to help with their patients. He joined them in the vegetable garden and milked their small herd of cows and goats. Jasmine remained in awe of everything around her, and when Aunt Sadie learned she couldn’t read or write, a novice was assigned to teach her.