Ireland was cold and gray, and as Catherine and Alexander stood together on the pier and listened to the ship heading back for England, Catherine knew there was no turning back. She was committed to this now, and not least because they no longer had enough money to return to England, having spent the last of the Madisons' on the journey to Ireland so they could get a decent berth.

Not even that had been enough to keep Alexander from getting seasick, and he had spent most of the brief journey curled up against a wall, pale and shaking. Catherine had stayed with him as long as she could, but when he insisted she go out and enjoy herself at least a little, she had kissed his forehead and promised to only be a short while. It had been short, for there wasn't much to do on deck aside from look out at the rolling sea, which was cold and gray with the remains of winter. She was fortunate enough not to get seasick but unfortunate enough to be a woman surrounded by superstitious sailors. Whenever she walked by them, they gave her sideways glances and muttered things about bad luck. They, more than the lack of a view, spurred her to return to Alexander, and she spent the rest of the journey by his side, doing what she could to ease his pain.

Both of them were glad to get off the ship, though Alexander was still gray-faced as Catherine pulled him gently down the pier. Everything around her was gray, she realized. Her clothes had been worn drab and colorless, and even the expressions on people's faces seemed gray, bringing a hint of death to their bright hair and eyes. Catherine pressed closer to Alexander's side and whispered, "What are we going to do here?"

"I don't know, but unless you know how to return to England without setting foot on a boat, we're going to have to stay." Alexander groaned and stopped for a moment to lean against the side of a building. "My legs still feel like they're shaking. My God, what possessed me to do that?"

"You could have told me you would prefer to stay in Scotland," Catherine said. "We could have gone to the north."

Alexander shook his head. "It wouldn't have been far enough. You wanted to avoid your family, right? What better way than to put running water between us and them?"

Catherine couldn't help laughing, though it was a pained laugh. "They're not going to hunt us down with dogs," she said. "We aren't animals looking for burrows."

"Aren't we? Look at us. Anyone would say that we're poorer than church mice, that we're clever as foxes, that we're a pair of swans who found each other. What does that sound like, if not animals?" Alexander took a deep breath and managed to stand up. "We'll have to find work of some kind, at least until I can start selling my paintings again. Then, maybe, we can live the way we used to."

"You could have your own studio," Catherine said. "A little shop, where you'd paint portraits and sell them, and you could have landscapes hanging on the walls. We'd live above it, just you and me and Lilé. I could try to write poetry, though I'd need a false name, most likely. How many people would buy poems written by a woman?"

"I would," Alexander said, though when Catherine frowned at him, he blushed a little and added, "I'd buy poems written by you."

Catherine sighed and bit her lip. "Dreaming won't solve anything, though. We have to act. That's how I got here, after all. If I'd just sat around dreaming, Aunt Elizabeth might have arranged my marriage to some minister's son, who would only see me as a pretty little smile and someone to manage the house."

"But what are we going to do?" Alexander asked.

"We'll find work, just as you said." She drew him a little farther down the street, looking around at the shops and people they passed. No one seemed suspicious of them, but for all she knew they were just watching them coldly and holding back their harsh words. "The only question is, who would hire a pair of Englishmen?"

"I just might."

Catherine jumped at the sudden voice, and when she turned, she saw a short man with long red hair tied back in a queue. He had an anxious look about him but seemed pleasant all the same. He smiled a little as he approached them and held out his hand.

"My name is Alaois Patton, and I'm willing to hire anyone willing to work."

Alexander stepped forward and shook Alaois's hand. "My name's Alexander Eliot, and this is my wife, Catherine. We'll take any job we can so long as you'll pay us fairly."

Alaois looked them over carefully. His gaze wasn't like Oli's; he seemed to be taking them apart with his eyes, but only so he could judge and weigh them piece by piece. "What sort of things are you able to do?"

"Whatever you need," Alexander said. "We can both read and write, and I'm a skilled painter. We're both quick studies."

Alaois nodded and looked them over again. "I could use a painter," he said. "I own a fan shop and make dainty things for fine ladies. Have you ever painted a fan before?"

Alexander shook his head. "I've only ever worked on canvas, but I'm sure I could learn, given some practice."

"I'll start you off on the simpler designs." Alaois turned to Catherine and asked, "Can you keep accounts and hold a list in your head? I may need you to run errands for me and gather supplies, along with carrying orders across town. It might be that some of the ladies would rather get their fans from a lovely English girl than some Irishman." He laughed and gave her a little bow.

Catherine bobbed in return. "I'll do whatever you need me to," she said.

"Excellent!" Alaois turned and led them to a little shop. "I've got a room just above the shop that I'll let out to you, and my wife will provide breakfast and dinner. Mr. Eliot will get a third of the payment for each fan, and Mrs. Eliot will get a quarter of what's left each week. You won't be rich, but it should be enough for you to keep a little savings set aside." He smiled as he opened the door to the shop. "I expect you'll want to be able to buy canvas and paints of your own, Mr. Eliot."

"That would be wonderful," Alexander said, and Catherine would have shared in his joy at being able to paint again had she not been distracted by the shop.

There were colors everywhere. Fans hung from walls and lay on tables, painted with delicate flowers and leaves. Some had birds on them, and another appeared to be a spray of feathers, but when she drew closer, she saw that they had been painted on and the fan was nothing more than satin fabric. There wasn't just satin in the shop, though. She found silk and lace, and a few muslin fans tucked in a corner. Even though the fabric was cheaper, they were painted no less beautifully, and Catherine wondered whether Alexander would be able to mimic the intricate designs. Her fingers drifted over the wood handles, and for a moment she longed to be a fine lady, dressed all in blue silk and carrying a fan painted with the image of the moon and stars.

"I see you found some help, Alaois," said a woman, and Catherine turned to find a wide-hipped woman with red hair coming down the stairs and into the room. She had a boy on each hip, and Catherine thought she saw a faint bulge to her stomach. "At least, they don't look wealthy enough to be customers."

Alaois laughed. He seemed more at ease with the woman than he had been out on the street. "These are Catherine and Alexander Eliot, just arrived from England. Mr. Eliot will be my new painter, and his wife will run errands and help you handle accounts. Mr. and Mrs. Eliot, this is my beloved wife, Léan, and our sons, Brogan and Ultan."

"And Riagán to be," Léan said with a smile. "It's about time you found some help, Alaois. Once the third one's born, I won't have enough time to do anything but watch these boys."

"Don't you worry." Alaois took the boys in his arms and kissed each one on the forehead. "I told you everything would work for the best, and it has. We'll just need to clear out the back room so these two have a place to stay. They likely haven't got a place to go."

"We haven't," Catherine said, and the Pattons smiled gently at her.

"Then you can help me clear out your room," Léan said. "It isn't much, but the roof doesn't leak, and there's space for two or even three, if the third one's small." Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and Catherine and Alexander followed her up the stairs. The space above the store seemed larger than the store itself, but Catherine wasn't sure how. It was divided into three spaces. Two were closed off by doors, and the third was little more than a hall with a few toys scattered about. "This is where I, Alaois, and the boys sleep," Léan said, touching one of the doors. "You'll sleep in the other room."

Catherine pushed open the door and found a small room. It was barely large enough for three, and she couldn't help wondering how they might fit a child in there along with Alexander's painting supplies. Of course, there was always the chance that they wouldn't have a child. Perhaps the paintings could act as their children, creations made from their love that would live on longer than either of them could.

Alexander stepped up behind her and set a hand on her shoulder. "It's beautiful," he said, and as Catherine looked past the clutter and debris that were likely useless, she realized that he was right. In a strange way, the room was beautiful, though it wasn't the sort of beauty that she would have looked for earlier in her life. It had a little window that shed light onto a bed, and though the walls looked dusty, they were made from fine wood, and once the room was cleaned, she was sure she would be able to call it home.

They spent the rest of the day clearing out the room, and as Catherine and Alexander helped Alaois haul the larger pieces of junk outside, Léan dusted the walls and swept the floor. By evening, there were clean sheets on the bed and curtains made of scrap muslin hanging by the window. Everyone was too weary to work on any fans, so they settled into a room in the back of the shop for dinner. The meal was plain but hearty, and before they could eat, Alaois raised a mug of beer. "To the Eliots. They came to us in our hour of need."

After Léan had drunk to them, Alexander raised his own mug. "To the Pattons," he said. "They found us in our hour of need, and we will be ever grateful to them."

For the first time in her life, Catherine went to bed feeling truly content. Her stomach was full, and the blankets were warm, and she was able to sleep with Alexander by her side as her husband. Though they were too weary to make love, they held each other tightly, not only for warmth but for companionship. When she woke, she would have to accept that she was on Ireland. It wasn't home, but it might be the next best thing.