4

Ella had gone to bed the night before in tears, and Grace had gone to bed saddened for her sister, but too excited over Wade's arrival to allow her sister's distress to worry her overmuch. Ella was surely just being silly. She couldn't really mean that she wanted to run away with Paddy Moynihan! She would have a good cry about it, of course. But then she would see the truth of their mother's words and accept them.

Grace knocked only once before entering Ella's bedroom. Her sister was awake after all, wearing a her flannel robe and a wrapper over her nightgown to shield her from the chill of the room. She was sitting in front of her vanity, running a brush through her waist length coppery hair. Her lips were downturned into a frown, but she still looked beautiful, even in her despair.

"Mother thought you'd still be asleep, Ella."

"I woke with the sun." Ella said. "Did you see Wade here yet?"

"Not yet," Grace said truthfully, "Mother wanted to talk to him first."

"That's nice." Ella seemed distracted to Grace. But why? She didn't want to mention her words to their mother about Lord Fenton, not wanting Ella to have to think about the equerry with whom she was so smitten. But she had to know what was on her sister's mind.

"Mother wants to go to town today."

"Yes."

"Well, aren't you going to get ready?"

"That - that won't be necessary, Gracie. I'm just going for a …for a walk."

"A walk?" Grace inquired lamely.

"Yes, silly. A nice walk around the grounds. No need to go all the way into town today. Besides, John took sick yesterday and Maureen wanted one of us to go and see old Katie Scarlett, remember?"

The idea wasn't completely unbelievable, although Ella would have normally preferred to take the carriage, even for traveling about the grounds of Ballyhara. The estate went on for miles and miles, before finally running cattycorner to Lord Fenton's estate and the township of Durhamstown on either side. Old Katie Scarlett was the mother of their mother's father, and was the oldest person in the village. At one hundred years young, the gentle dear had finally consented to move from her house in the town up to Ballyhara and kin. Her only living son, Daniel Ryan O'Hara, was chief of staff of sorts, the head stableman and the chief groom all at once, and his second wife, Rosamund Fitzpatrick, was both the head housekeeper and Grace's governess. Much to the disapproval of Lord Fenton, she might add, who, although Daniel and Mrs. Fitz were O'Hara kith and kin, considered all of the Irish beneath him and his horse as well.

Grace thought that the Irish were the most supreme of all the races, so proudly and fiercely ran the blood through her veins, as well as Ella's and Wade's most of all. Wade was a patriot, and Grace loved nothing more than to hear him talk about Irish independence. It was as if he knew that he was too young to fight in the war which had laid claim to his father's life, but he'd make up for it by fighting against the oppressor elsewhere.

But back to Ella - what was all the stammering? The evasive answers to her questions? The sudden desire to see their great grandmother? God's nightgown, Grace thought to herself, she must be going to meet Paddy! That was it, it had to be! But surely Paddy was not at home; as Lord Fenton's equerry he would have had to have been with him…

Unless Fenton was already back …which would be very, very bad for Wade.

. . . .

"I'm looking for Paddy Moynihan, please. The equerry to his Lordship."

Mrs. Fletcher met the harried looking groom's gaze with her own look of disinterest, wishing that that the blighter would not stare at her in such an uncouth manner, and wishing even more dearly that Mr. Fletcher could have accompanied them, if only for protection. Something akin to recognition flared in the groom's eyes as his gaze passed the dame and onto Cat, who looked anything but proper in her old riding habit and wide-brimmed hat.

"I'm Paddy Moynihan," he said, softening his brogue. "I take it that you both are here as Lord Fenton's guests?"

"Indeed," Mrs. Fletcher snapped with irritation. That was all she was willing to reveal, unaccustomed to making conversation with servants in a lower position than she, particularly Irish servants - but with no other options presenting themselves since the departure of her employer and their host on a business matter, she was left to negotiate Cat's entertainment. Not that she was happy about it. No, she would have been content to remain indoors. But Cat had mentioned that she wanted to explore to her father, and Mr. Butler was insistent that her every whim be catered to while he was away.

Moynihan stepped closer to Cat and looked down at her, then whistled. "Ne'er seen the like …your eyes…save for me lady friend's wee sister, Grace. 'Bout your age."

Cat smiled, and was going to reply when Mrs. Fletcher cut her off, "We aren't here to exchange pleasantries, Mr. Moynihan. We simply need use of two docile mounts for the afternoon while we explore this…town."

"Village?"

"Indeed. Can you service us?"

"Aye. But just for the afternoon, you said?"

"Indeed."

"Lady, twill take you o'er an hour to get down the hill, and an hour back. Can't be more'n three left in the day before dark. I can take you meself, so that you won't get lost."

"Why that's unnecessary-"

"I insist, ma'am. As a courtesy to your…rank," he grinned a cheeky grin, then pointed to his chest. "So, let's start with introductions then. I am Paddy. And you, dear lady?"

Mrs. Fletcher turned the color of ripe raspberries. "Eudora Fletcher. Miss Butler's governess."

"And I'm Cat," Cat piped up and stuck her hand out.

"How old are you, Cat, love?"

"Do not speak to Miss Butler with such -"

"Oh Mrs. Fletcher, it's just an expression," Cat interrupted her and addressed Paddy, "She was the same way when my Daddy called her darling."

"Cat!"

"He's American, that's why…oh, and I'm ten."

"Really? Well, you must be meetin' Grace then. That'd be me lady friend's sis, that I told you about. They're American too. Well, their Ma is. But she's right at home here in Ireland, what with the kin and whatnot. They call her the O'Hara, on account of her living at the Big House."

"I've never met an American before. Not anyone my own age anyway."

"And there is a reason for that, Miss," Mrs. Fletcher snapped. "Almost as impudent as the Irish…try to remember yourself."

. . . .

I had hoped that we'd have longer in reasonable quiet," Wade stepped down to the pavement beside his youngest sister, letting the door of his great uncle's cottage swing shut behind him. "Unfortunately, the nice weather has brought the whole bloody town out in force."

"I can't find Ella anywhere. Or Mother, for that matter!" Grace scanned the throng of tradesman and patrons in the street, all crowded along the small gravel pathway for market day. "Why were you talking to cousin Jamie for so long? And why did I have to stand outside?"

"You were looking for Ella, of course," he reminded her, pinching her cheek with brotherly fondness.

"You're keeping secrets. And so is Mother. And Ella. None of you tell me anything."

"Fiddle-dee-dee," Wade said, in perfect imitation of their mother, which made them both laugh. "Now, now, Gracie. You sound even more disenchanted with the illustrious Fenton than in your letters. One might get the idea that you didn't like the man."

At that, she heaved a sigh, and he wrapped a strong arm around her. "Well, let's go look at the horses then and then we'll have a look at the dolls at the toy shop on the High Street. That should distract you from such…unpleasant thoughts."

"But she wants to marry him, Wade."

"I know, but listen. None of our people can know. It's going to hurt them terribly if she goes through with it and even she knows it. So keep it our strict secret."

"You have to persuade her-"

"I can say nothing to persuade Mother. Once she has it in her head to do something, I can do very little to dissuade her."

"You have a better chance than I do. And Ella just…Ughhh."

"Don't look so sad, Gracie. Your favorite brother is in town, you have air in your lungs and …truth be told…I understand Fenton is still smarting over the incident of a few weeks ago."

"I'll use horse manure next time," Grace brightened at the thought.

"A worthy goal," Wade winked.

As they continued to walk, they saw that a large crowd had surrounded about the horse vendor, O'Malley, from Newmarket, and Wade had to speak to him alone for reasons which she was unsure. She had been fairly certain that they would find Ella there, amongst the buyers, although their sister knew not the first thing about horses. Her hunch was wrong; she did not see her as she had expected, looking pretty on Paddy's arm. Paddy Moynihan was considered the best trainer of horseflesh in all of the County, and twas rumored that had Lord Fenton not already engaged his services for his stable, the Viceroy himself might have made him an offer. But still, celebrated or not, their mother had said very adamantly that no daughter of hers would ever marry a stableman. So declared her mother.

Wade took her arm and motioned for her to follow him, which she did, surreptitiously searching for their sister. Then, rounding the large group of ladies examining the butcher's wares, she saw, standing some yards directly ahead, the tall, dark figure of Paddy himself. He was accompanied by a woman of middle age, who was fair of face and feature but who looked supremely dissatisfied.

"Paddy!" Wade called out first, then moved to shake the other man's hand. "I wasn't aware that your household was already back. Out surveying the field, I see. We're looking for Ella, ourselves, coincidentally."

"I've not seen her, Wade, and that's the truth," Paddy grinned, then seeing Grace, he winked broadly. "I'm glad to see you. This is Mrs. Fletcher, up visitin' milord Fenton from England. I've promised to protect her from us murderin' savages."

"Indeed," Mrs. Fletcher pursed her lips, refusing to react to the subtle emphasis he placed upon her country. "Eudora Fletcher. Pleasure."

Grace thought that Mrs. Fletcher looked as if meeting them was the farthest thing from pleasure.

"Wade Hamilton," her handsome brother extended his hand. In his company, even dark-haired Patty seemed to fade - his burnished light brown hair and bright eyes seemed to impress even Miss Fletcher, who shook his hand with politeness that did not seem so forced.

"Mr. Moynihan did not lie. I do recognize your accent as American, sir."

"A blend, I think. I've been on this side of the pond since I was a boy."

"With a bit of English, as well?"

"Royal Naval Academy, madam. Then two enlisted years in the regulars."

"Oh my goodness, the Academy. What an honor for you! But why ever did you choose to resign your post?"

Wade smiled ingenuously, "Because I was weary of politics."

"Indeed. My own father was Lord Admiral Howell of -"

Grace wasn't particularly interested in hearing where Lord Admiral Howell was from or to whom he was related, so she slipped away from the group and decided to look for Ella on her own.

She scanned the carriages on the street, thinking that perhaps Ella had been intercepted by one of the well-meaning matrons, wives of Lord Fenton's higher ranking servants. Or perhaps she really had gone to visit their great grandmother as she had said.

Intercepted momentarily by Mrs. McCarran, who was a stickler for politeness, Grace attempted to extricate herself quickly by explaining to the matron that she was looking for Ella and had better find her quickly, lest she get into trouble.

She had already gotten dirt from the road all over her gray and white striped twill, her second best dress. Her mother wouldn't thank her for that, whenever she got done with her meeting over tea with Lord Fenton's chief steward's wife. The cruel reminder of her immanent doom turned her concern into outright anxiety. Her mother was really going to marry the bloody bastard! No matter that no one liked him, that he was the enemy, that he was a hateful, drunken sot! She wanted to scream. And then scream at Ella, for being cryptic and disappearing. And at Wade for being gone so long. And at the father she had never met but who had abandoned them after she was born. If not for him, none of this would be happening.

She was about to return to Wade when she felt someone tap on her left shoulder. Turning, she was about to give whoever it was a good telling off, that she simply wasn't in the mood for such - she paused.

It was a girl, about her age. Just her height, exactly. She was dressed in a splendid riding habit made out of green velvet and trimmed with fur. It was clearly well-loved, but not so much that it looked old. She would have been a picture out of the pattern books her mother ordered from France - but then she opened her mouth and destroyed the image.

The British accent made Grace want to hurl.

"Pardon me, I'm afraid that I've gotten a bit turned around."

Grace stared some more. Her accent wasn't quite so pronounced as she had first thought…

"Would you say that again?"

"What?"

"Around."

"Around."

"You say that funny."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Where are you from?"

"England."

"You aren't really English though! I know that accent and you're - you're Southern!"

"American, you mean?"

"Not just American, you're Southern. So am I!"

"Would you be Grace?"

Grace straightened, "Yes. How did you…?"

"Paddy Moynihan suggested that I speak with you. My name is Cat, by the by."

"He did?" Grace looked at her uncertainly.

"He said that he knew your sister well."

Grace laughed. "He'd like to know her well. And Ella would like to know him. But Mother positively forbids it, you know, a terrible scandal. Although, we aren't rich, so I don't know why she can't just marry the man she wants …"

The other girl was eying her with interest. "You remind me of someone."

Grace shrugged. "Really?"

"Very much."

Grace took a further appraisal of the girl, over the initial envy of her fine riding habit. She was dimly aware of all those things that her mother had said would single her out as she grew into them: the classical symmetry of the heart-shaped face, arched brows, black lashes, straight nose and wide eyes that were somewhere between green and blue -

"I think I see what you mean," Grace reached out to touch the other girl's face, which earned her a slap on the palm.

"Stop it!" Cat retorted.

"You look…you and I look…"

"You're much different than I - just look at your skin."

Grace did. Her palms were pale and fine, almost translucent. Her mother had beaten into her head the importance of maintaining her complexion. Cat was as nearly as dark as she was fair. But that was the only difference. It might throw off the casual observer, but not Grace…

She stepped back and stared.

"You must spend a good deal of time out of doors."

"It's left over from Buenos Aires," Cat informed her primly. "My Daddy and I went not two months ago. "It's lovely there. Much nicer than rainy old Ireland."

The other girl clearly didn't understand; Grace just kept staring, trying to catch her breath. She felt like one of the village boys had punched her in the stomach, like all of her muscles were contracting and had locked, unable to relax.

From behind her, she heard a voice. "Why, there's Miss Cat, Mrs. Fletcher."

Her mind whirled. There was Paddy, and Mrs. Fletcher, the snooty Englishwoman, who was quick to stand at the other girl's side. "Come Kitty Cat. We need to head back to Fenton Hall now, before it gets too dark."

To Cat, Paddy said, "This lady is the one which I wanted you to meet, Miss Cat. She can show you all there is to see and then some. T'wouldn't hurt to be shown around by one your own age, I'm thinking. Especially with your Da away for the month with his Lordship's party."

"What?" Grace tore her gaze away from Cat and back to Paddy. "Fenton's going away for the month? Where's he going?"

"To Dublin…and your mother…" Paddy's voice trailed off, as if he had said to much, and Grace let out a soft cry of defeat.

"She didn't tell me yet. I guess she was waiting until later, until we were all good and tired before she sprung that on us."

Grace thought that the other girl, Cat, looked vaguely sympathetic. Perhaps she had had the privilege of meeting Lord Fenton as well.

"Cat?" the governess tried again to move Cat, whose feet seemed glued to the ground.

"Grace?" Cat spoke, her precise diction reeking with arrogance and superiority that had not been there before the governess had arrived, "Perhaps you could call on me at Fenton Hall? I am very bored without my Daddy and there is no one else to play with. If you need a carriage sent, you need only give Mr. Moynihan the address…but I take it he knows already."

Paddy grinned. "Indeed. I'll ride over in the morn'n for you, Grace."

Grace sensed a dramatic heightening in his interest, and again, she locked her gaze upon Cat, whose identical eyes were brimming with suspicion.

Her accent had probably triggered that response. She spoke perfect Irish-English, just as Paddy did, but no amount of time would remove the softness of her mother's Southern accent from her tongue - quite similarly to Wade's and Ella's - and Cat's.

It was odd, certainly. And the resemblance, well, that was downright uncanny.

"I'd be glad to," Grace finally replied, and thought that the governess looked put out.

"Excellent," the governess said, her tone clipped, "Perhaps, now that you've arranged Miss Cat's itinerary, Mr. Moynihan, you could escort us back?"

"Your service, Madam," Paddy said, inclining his head in acquiescence and gesturing for her to follow him. Pausing, Cat glanced back at Grace, a haughty look over her shoulder. And as Grace met her eyes, she felt something inside of her react, some innate sense of knowing, of kinship. It must have been something, to get her to agree to set foot in Fenton's house, something she had vowed never again to do. But surely it didn't count if Fenton wasn't there.