Author's Note: Thanks again in advance for reading (and reviewing!)
5
Each year, Cat had celebrated the night before her birthday with her father and all of her friends in the same manner: dinner fit for a Queen, almond soup, pomplet fish from India, miniature croquettes of sweetbreads, and a grand cake at least three stories high crowned with flowers made of marzipan. Afterward, her Daddy would have all of the girls in her group of friends march out to the terrace and look into the night sky, where he would have a servant from below shoot off fireworks, shipped all the way from China. All for Cat.
This year, however, was to be quite different.
Ireland had no pomplet, nor any decent fish at all, according to Mrs. Fletcher, who reluctantly served her young charge a beefsteak and rice pudding. But worst of all, Cat had to eat the sub par meal without the company of her Daddy. She was lonely at Fenton Hall. The high ceilings and dark colored paintings on the wall seemed only to dampen her spirits further, and she kept looking at the door, hoping against hope that her Daddy might walk through it. She picked at the beefsteak, not caring for the taste of the meat.
Always, her Daddy had celebrated her birthday with her, and tomorrow was her tenth! A very, very important birthday indeed.
Not that he hadn't sent a veritable treasure trove of gifts. Indeed, she had unenthusiastically unwrapped the beautiful set of books she had asked for - Kipling, Browning, and Dickens in their entirety. Next, there had been a doll with real human hair and a china face. Her gown was a miniature of Cat's next gift, a real party dress made of blue silk with at least three yards of fabric beneath the skirt and decoratively trimmed with a silk ribbon of darker blue. Mrs. Fletcher ohh-ed and ahh-ed and said that it was a dress fit for the Princess of Wales. Cat's eyes flashed over her gifts, and felt no better.
"Maybe that nice little girl you met today will prove good company," Mrs. Fletcher said kindly, taking a seat next to Cat, who gave her a weak smile.
"She was strange. You were right about the Irish, Mrs. Fletcher. Very odd people indeed."
Mrs. Fletcher nodded in understanding. "Yes, but the brother was very charming. Good family, I can tell. So there is hope yet for the child. You'll see, Kitty Cat. Cheer up now, love, and eat."
But Cat's thoughts were fixed upon the absence of her Daddy, and she wondered, foolishly, she knew, if he was safe.
Shot for treason.
"Why is Daddy here, Mrs. Fletcher?"
Her governess shook her head. "I cannot say my dear, with any certainty. All that I have been told is that Lord Fenton thinks that these rebel Irish are planning to run some racket that involves the mess about Home Rule. You remember, what we read about in the paper?"
Cat nodded. "The Irish want to rule themselves. But why shouldn't they? I mean, it is their country, right?"
"Yes and no. They are under our flag and have sworn allegiance to our Queen. Therefore, they are in rebellion and those in their ranks are traitors, you understand?"
"Did they know that they are supposed to serve the Queen? Or did the Queen just assume that they would, since they always have?"
"Of course they know, silly child."
"Hmm…" Cat continued to pick at her plate. "Well, who leads them?"
"They always have been a villainous sort of folk…well, not all of them, surely…but many…many are villainous. There is indeed a rather savage primacy in them."
"My mother was Irish."
"She was American, love. Of Irish descent, perhaps…"
"No, my grandfather was from Ireland. Daddy told me."
Mrs. Fletcher looked vaguely amused, and folded her hands on her lap. "Well then, perhaps you'll be able to locate relatives of his, then, while we are here…"
. . . .
An hour later, Grace swept into the back parlor of Ballyhara.
Her great aunt by marriage Mrs. Fitz, her governess and the housekeeper as well, sat on the chaise calmly tatting. Curled on the window seat was Ella, just as nonchalant as can be, idly glossing over a novel that looked as if it had been read more than its fair share.
Ella looked up as Grace heaved a loud sigh and set her book aside. "Did you have fun?"
"I suppose. You'll never guess what I heard," Grace said grimly, then leaned close to Ella so that Mrs. Fitz wouldn't hear and whispered into her sister's ear. "Fenton is going to Dublin for a month, and guess who he means to take with him."
Ella looked genuinely shocked. "No. It can't be-"
Mrs. Fitz lowered her needles and fixed her sharp eyes on her youngest charge. "Sure and it sounds as if you've heard something grim, child. What is it?"
Across the faded oak floor of the room, Ella met Mrs. Fitz's gaze hesitantly.
"Surely 'tis not ill tell of your young man, for I'm quite certain that his heart is firmly yours, Ella love. Which leaves me with two of the most bitter pills to swallow - that 'tis something amiss with darlin' Wade….or herself. And what I'm thinking 'tis is the latter. And it grieves me near as much as you, Grace m'dear."
Grace's eyes widened that Mrs. Fitz had figured it out, but Ella was quick to respond. Hand rising to her throat, she jumped up and hurried toward the ladies desk by the windows. She sat down in the chair that was angled in front of the desk and took out a pen and stationary. "I need to write to someone immediately before she goes through with this craziness. I can not believe her, I truly cannot! And to think that she forbids me to marry out of love and she does this!"
"Who are you writing?" Grace wondered aloud.
"To whom," Mrs. Fitz corrected automatically.
"I'm going to write to Cousin Colum and tell him he has to leave for Ballyhara at once. If there's something bad happening with Fenton - well, you know Colum. He'll get involved and set it right."
"Precisely that, Young Miss," Mrs. Fitz interrupted. "He will get involved, as will your brother, if he's not already…and you know of what I speak."
"I don't know-" Grace reminded them that she was still in the room. "What is it that Wade and Colum are doing? Wade was talking in private to all the men in town, but he wouldn't tell me a thing."
"Don't worry, sweet," Ella attempted to soothe her. "Wade is very smart, very careful. He knows what he's doing, and we mustn't interfere."
"Aye, but I don't want the lads in any danger - herself either - not if it's the sort as what they've been sayin' in the village, the sort where folk disappear ne'er to be heard from again."
To Grace's horror, Ella's voice began to quiver. "Paddy says that Fenton has recruited a private expeditionary force…led by Americans, ex-Confederates, of all people. I haven't told Mother yet, for fear that she'd worry, or that she'd somehow let slip Wade's cover to Fenton."
"And you'd best keep that silent," Mrs. Fitz said, looking pointedly over at Grace.
Grace rolled her eyes. Of course she had always suspected that Wade would join up with the Sons of Erin…but no one would tell her for sure…thinking, no doubt, that she was too young to be trusted with anything of importance. But Wade had always been rebellious, and wildly patriotic. His one burning passion was to fight in a war for Irish independence. While Grace certainly shared his enthusiasm and the fervor of her brother's dream, her mother, unfortunately, had rigid views on what constituted appropriate activity for her son and heir, the only O'Hara male, coincidentally.
Membership in the Sons was all well and good for others, namely others of lesser importance, but not for Wade.
Of their mother's three children, Wade was the least likely to be content with the role of country landowner - like their mother herself, he was upped in Irishness, wild and mercurial. It would be Ella, of them all, who would make the best heir to Ballyhara, dependable as she was, and stoic - when she wasn't pining away over handsome young men. Even though Grace was much younger, she was not so much that she couldn't also be a coconspirator.
She supposed that she had been taken into their confidence on the night that Wade had blown up at dinner with Fenton.
He had just resigned his commission with the Royal Navy, a commission which Fenton had procured for him, largely to protest the treatment of the Irish by their English occupiers; morally, he said, he could not stand idly by and allow the injustice to continue.
Fenton had exploded, words were exchanged, shots were fired, wounds dealt on both sides. Pushed beyond his limits, Wade had stormed out of Ballyhara, taking nothing more than what he could cram into his saddlebags.
There was a clear rupture now, between Wade and their mother, who for some reason known only to her, continued to be courted by Fenton. The wounds would take time to heal, Ella had explained. Well, Grace could accept that. But when Wade had left over a year before, out of her world for the first time in her life, she felt truly alone, as if some part of her life had been completely stripped away…perhaps it was what some people saw as growing up…
She'd hoped that Wade's visit meant that the break was a temporary one, after all; but with the news of her mother's imminent departure to Dublin in her mind, she didn't have much hope.
Meanwhile, Ella was scribbling frantically. "If I can finish this as soon as possible, John can deliver it before nightfall."
"Actually, m'darlin, before you write it, I daresay you should read this."
Grace turned to see Mrs. Fitz extract a letter from underneath her tatting. The housekeeper held out a newspaper clipping.
"Came this morning in the post. And thanks be to God that Daniel saw it before herself. He gave it to me to keep…perhaps you recognize some of the names?"
Rising, Ella took the clipping from the older woman's hands and sank back into the chair as she read it.
Horror dawned on her face as she read, and finally, Grace could stand it no longer. "What? What is it? What does it say?"
"The English garrisons are going to start making arrests of suspected members of the Sons of Erin. And they're going to be booked as traitors and hanged…without a trial. Fenton's the law now in our district."
"No!" Grace cried with horror. "Does that mean…Wade?"
"It means all our men, darlin'." Mrs. Fitz said ominously. "And with herself sitting so tight and close with that wicked man…ach…It chills me bones to think upon it long."
"We've got to tell Mother. If we tell her, surely she'll listen-"
"It's not that simple, Grace," Ella interrupted, "Mother has been courted by Lord Fenton for quite some time. To end it now would only turn suspicion back on her…on all of us."
Suddenly, the door burst open and the three jumped, in spite of themselves.
"Why the long faces?" Wade attempted a joke, then shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall. Looking up at the crack in the ceiling's plaster, he commented, "Mother needs to fix that."
At their collective silence, he nodded and said, "I already saw it. And I'm leaving tonight, so I'll be gone when you ladies rise in the morning."
"Where are you going?" Grace choked back a sob. "Will you be safe?"
He gathered her in his strong arms and kissed her on the cheek. "My sweet baby sister…Colum has gone to England to meet with Charles Parnell, one of the MP's fighting on behalf of our cause-"
"It's not your cause!" Ella snapped. "It's not our problem! You're not even Irish by birth and yet you are willing to die for this foolishness-"
His eyes were bright, and his voice was absent of any rebuke. "I'm old enough to accept the consequences of my actions, Ella. And I'm also old enough to realize that freedom is never free. And that's more than for Ireland, Sister…it's for all of humanity. And it is something I am willing to die for, yes, if it comes to that. But," he addressed Grace, who had gone pale. "I do not intend to die for a very, very, very long time. Until I'm at least Old Katie Scarlett's age, eh?"
That made her smile a little, although she was still filled with the greatest sense of trepidation at his departure.
"Mother's going to go to Dublin with Fenton, then?" Ella inquired.
Wade nodded. "Yes, and it actually might work in our favor that she does. If she distracts him with the Season going on there, then we might have a chance to beat this blockade he's imposed on the rivers. The Trim is guarded at all the ferry points, but as I told Daniel, Mrs. Fitz, there are other ways…"
"What can I do?" Grace interjected. "How can I help the Sons?"
"You can't." Ella said firmly.
"Yes…you can…" Wade said, as if he had just remembered something. "You have a playdate tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken."
Grace heaved a frustrated sigh. "I won't sit foot in that house."
"I take it that the girl's father is one of Fenton's new associates. Find out his name if you can, and where they're from and how many men there are under his command."
"You're using her as a spy!" Ella snapped. "No, absolutely not. When Mother is gone to Dublin, I'm responsible for her and I say-"
"She was invited, Ella. She's clever enough not to say anything. And it's information I'm seeking, that's all…there's no need for her to do anything."
"She is a little girl!"
"I'll do it!" Grace interjected. "I'll ask her lots of questions about her home and family and her father…and I'll be good as gold and pretend that I love Lord Fenton. I can do it."
"I know you can, love," Wade squeezed her shoulder. "And if you find out something that'll help us, you can tell Daniel…he'll get the message to the right people. But say nothing to Mother. She wouldn't like it if you knew what was afoot…"
"I don't either," Ella piped up.
"Mrs. Fitz?" he addressed the housekeeper, still tending her tatting. "You've been near a second mother to us these past ten years. What is your feeling?"
She rose slowly, then faced them squarely. "I think that Miss Grace is certainly old enough to understand. And herself will not be hearin' it from my lips." Mrs. Fitz sent Grace a fleeting smile, then looked at Wade. "You take care of yourself me young lad. You're too precious to us all for ill to befall ye…your Mother in particular, though she doesn't say it as often as I'd like you to hear it out of her. She loves you very much, as we all do…."
Wade smiled, then spoke to Grace again, smacking his forehead as he did so. "I ought to be whipped, thrashed, thrown in the stocks."
"Why?"
"Your birthday. It's tomorrow and I didn't buy you a thing-"
"I don't care," Grace said emphatically. "You're the only present I want."
"Sure and that's sweet, Sis, but I need to do better than that. I imagine Mother has all sorts of surprises though, before she's set to depart."
Ella made a disgusted sound. "She'll wait until we've eaten and had several toasts before she gifts us with that bit of information. And then Paddy will be gone too, when Fenton is…"
"Fenton could be here tonight, couldn't he?" Grace said worriedly, "If Paddy's back?"
"I think his business takes him elsewhere tonight," Wade replied softly, "…else Grace's new friend would have been accompanied by her father rather than her governess. If I only knew their plans…if I could only prevent…"
"What?" Ella pressed.
Wade's eyes turned stony. "The inevitable bloodshed that I fear is yet to come."