Chapter Sixty-Two

Castle Blunden, County Kilkenny, Ireland

Eamonn Burke was biding his time in grove of trees not too far from the stables. It was two days since his time with Sharon in the folly. He had never met a young woman like her – she talked to him like a normal person. Further Sharon was educated and shared his interests. The society girls he had talked to simpered and fawned over him, which was bothersome and uncomfortable.

Under the guise of spending time with his sister he had discreetly inquired about Sharon. He found out that she was from one of the families on the estate; her parents had both passed a year before she came to the castle. Her grandmother was raising her, but it was one more mouth to feed, so Sharon had entered service at fourteen. Eamonn had also learned that this morning Emily and Sharon would be out riding.

Eamonn knew better than to meet them in the stable yard – Sharon would be expected to recurse herself, so the siblings could ride together. Hence, why he and his mount were in the grove of trees. It was another ten minutes when he saw the ladies enter the meadow in front of the grove of trees.

He smiled at them, as he rode towards where they were. Emily's riding habit was the height of fashion for the summer season – pale blue with facings in cream and brown, along with appropriate matching accessories.

Sharon was wearing a lightweight brown habit, with black and cream facings. It was striking on her, with her red hair, but Eamonn was sure it was a hand-me-down from his sister. He wanted to chuckle when he saw the whip his sister was carrying.

"Well now it is a pleasure to run into such lovely young ladies." Eamonn halted his hose and bowed as he made the comment, being careful not to look at Sharon.

"Eamonn, what a fun surprise!" Emily exclaimed, as she turned to look at Sharon. "This is my brother Lord Eamonn" she gestured with her whip, "Eamonn this is Sharon, my lady's maid and companion."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sharon." Eamonn smiled at her; when their eyes met, she felt breathless, as she took notice of how they twinkled with amusement.

"Your Lordship." Sharon inclined her head, stressing the word lordship. She felt like she was in a pantomime and looked at him from under her eyelashes. Eamonn was mounted on a tall bay horse, strong of chest, with a black mane and tail. He was dressed in buff-colored breeches, a cream-colored shirt, with a navy silk foulard cravat, brown boots, and gloves. She was sure that only because it was high summer, he was not wearing a jacket. There was no doubt that Eamonn was fine looking, and Sharon noted again the broad shoulders, and athletic build.

"May I join you on your ride? If I am not intruding." He asked, and Sharon waited for Lady Emily to say yes. Lady Emily was distracted by a rabbit off to the edge of the meadow, and she felt Eamonn studying her body with a very audacious look. A blush started to rise on her face, and Sharon forced herself to get busy pretending to adjust her stirrup before Her Ladyship noticed.

"Is that not a cute bunny? Please ride with us." Lady Emily announced as she turned back to look at her brother. "Sharon is there something wrong with your saddle?" Lady Emily asked.

"My stirrup buckle was loose, but I fixed it." Sharon replied, hoping that she was not blushing anymore.

"Ever so interesting how those things can come loose." Eamonn stated with a pleased smile. It came to Sharon that he had known exactly what she was feeling.

They spent the next hour riding, going down to the river and the back fields. Eamonn entertained them with funny stories about the races, and what horses had done well. Sharon recognized some of the family names, and she did like horses, so she and Lady Emily could follow along. She liked riding with Lady Emily, but Eamonn made it so much better.

It was as they approached the stable yard that Sharon had to come back to reality. She carefully slowed her mount down, so by the time they arrived she was discreetly behind the siblings – just where a servant should be.

Eamonn noted what she was doing, and he felt bad for her, even as he knew how things worked. He helped his sister dismount first, and then Sharon, letting his hands linger just a touch longer on her waist. The look on her face let Eamonn know that she had not minded in the least.

"Your Ladyship I will see you upstairs." Sharon announced and then turned to Eamonn, curtsying as she commented "Your Lordship." Eamonn inclined his head and gave her a smirk when his sister was not looking. She was aware that he was watching her as she crossed the yard and entered the back door.

Race week had finished up, with a grand finale on the last day that took place at Castle Blunden. There was an elaborate garden fete, followed by a dinner party all capped off with fireworks. Eamonn, being the son of the duke, understood what his obligations were to the family. He knew that Sharon and Emily were watching the fireworks from the castle balcony, and hoped they enjoyed them.

Eamonn's family was surprised when he decided to stay on after race week. Summer in Ireland was low on the social calendar – the English representatives in Dublin and Belfast all retired to their estates in England or went to the continent. When he offered the excuse that he wanted to spend time with his family, ride and sketch they took him at face value.

In truth it was because of Sharon he stayed on – she was becoming a good friend. They would meet several times a week in the Greek folly – no nothing was arranged, it just happened. Eamonn knew that Sharon was kept on a tight rein, and he was aware that he could not open her up to speculation. If it came out, she would suffer the repercussions, not him.

They would sit in the folly, and chat about everything. Eamonn liked how easy it was to be with Sharon. She could talk about art, horses, the estate, and gardens – further he had shared several private thoughts about his life, as well as his family. He knew that she would keep his confidences, and in one matter had given him some insightful thoughts on the situation.

It was now the middle of August, and after a glorious summer under cloudless blue skies – so atypical for Ireland -it had come to an end. Eamonn woke up to the sound of rain outside. He knew the farmers would be glad – once his father had found out he was staying on, the duke had asked him to liaison with the land agent.

Eamonn had been happy to do it, as it meant he was outside and riding a great deal. It also made it easy to meet up with Sharon and Emily; the girls went riding almost every day. No one gave a second thought to him spending time with his sister on the estate. Sharon had no problem keeping up with him and Emily, so they had a merry time.

He spent most of the morning out riding in the rain – his rain slicker and hat keeping him somewhat dry. Eamonn was feeling chilled but knew that he needed to make sure the estate properties were secure. The land agent accompanied him, and they made their rounds with ease, glad that everything was good. When they were done, they had gone to the pub down in the village where they had enjoyed several pints and a ploughman's lunch – cheese, sausage, and bread.

Eamonn arrived back at the castle after one o'clock. He was sure that Sharon would not be in the folly. He decided to gamble on her being in the library and headed upstairs. The heavy gilded handle of the door turned easily in his hand, the click of the mechanism sounding extra loud in the quiet hall.

As he entered the library he paused and took time to admire the room. The walls were painted a warm golden tone, the bookcases finely carved mahogany, and the ceiling was coffered with a guilt frame and a painting done in an allegorical style. Eamonn had always admired the artist's technique, while being confused about what the artist was trying to communicate.

The fireplace was black marble with rococo details of cherubs, ribbons, garlands, and flowers. Above the mantle was a painting of an ancestor of from the Napoleonic era, in a heavy gilt frame. On the ends of the mantle were two larges Meissen vases, done in pastel porcelain that held flowers.

Luckily the rest of the room was lower key – various seating groups with furniture made in pale wood, with simple curves. The upholstery was tan and muted blues, while the rug was an understated Aubusson of cream, soft blue, and beige. The room was longer than wide, with the fireplace being the focal point, while the opposite wall was given over the elaborate bookcases.

Eamonn turned his attention to the east side, where there was a seating group of a small sofa, two chairs, side tables, and a center table with a glass top. Displayed under the glass, on velvet, was an assortment of military honors that the men of the family had received. There was also a three-panel screen, with Chinese embroidered silk panels, of peacocks with brilliant plumage of green and blue.

Opposite the seating group and screen was an eighteenth-century window with stained glass heraldry that dated to the building of the castle. The bow window seat there had always been his favorite place of refuge. It seemed so right to see Sharon sitting there. She had a book in her lap, and was wearing an Aryan knit cardigan, with blue crocheted buttons. Sharon smiled at him, with pleasure and surprise. Eamonn had on a simple tweed jacket, leather patches at the elbows, cambric shirt, and brown riding britches.

Sharon noted with amusement that Eamonn was not wearing his riding boots, but rather some leather slipper type shoes; his socks were secured in place by garters. The Duchess had scolded him about that on more than one occasion, insisting he should change into pants. However, Eamonn always replied that he was not going to change his clothes several times a day. Sharon had been aware, from the first time she met him, Eamonn was very down to earth. He had none of the arrogance that so many of the English gentry did.

Sharon had heard though the castle staff how happy the land agent was to have Eamonn helping him. The man had been impressed that his lordship had no problems meeting him at six o'clock in the morning. Further Eamonn had on more than one occasion pitched in to help a farmer with his chores. Eamonn and his family were the total opposite of how the English gentry were portrayed by the local Irish.

"So what book are you reading today?" Eamonn asked, as he walked up to the window seat. Grey skies and rain beat down against the panes of glass, while the heraldic elements looked flat. There were velvet curtains in soft gold, while the cushion was upholstered in the same material.

"Lord Bryon and his poems." Sharon answered as she moved over to make room for him on the bench. As he sat down, she smelled damp tweed, and asked "were you out riding in the rain?" It did not surprise her, because he took his responsibilities seriously.

"Richard and I wanted to make sure that there would be no flooding" Eamonn answered, referencing the land agent. "Luckily it was all good, and then we went to the Three Bells. Pints of a lovely stout, and a ploughman's lunch" He explained with a smile, as he thought how fun it would be to take Sharon there in the evening when there was music and dancing.

"Sounds like you made a good decision. A kinsman of mine owes the pub, and his wife makes the cheese." Sharon smiled at him, being privately impressed that he was happy to spend time in the local pub.

"So tell me about Lord Bryon – why are you reading him?" Eamonn asked, as he settled himself into the seat, being careful not to sit too close to her.

"In the school room this morning we were studying the romantic movement of English literature." Sharon explained, and then went on to offer that the French governess had been almost uninterested in the lesson.

"The French usually have a low opinion of English literature and poetry." Eamonn offered, going on to make several comments about the differences in the genres. "Plus the French are very proud of their heritage."

"I have seen pictures of Versailles, and of paintings by Boucher – they are so beautiful." Sharon had been spell bound by the colors, softness, and the attention to detail, which she told Eamonn.

"If you had to choose between the Italian Renaissance and French Baroque paintings which would you choose?" Just as Eamonn asked the question he heard the tumblers in the door to the library click. He had always had amazing hearing; Eamonn gave Sharon a quick look, and then moved out of the window seat and behind the screen.

"Mrs. Hughes, is everything all right?" Sharon saw the head housekeeper come into the room, and over to the window seat. She stood up and curtseyed, as she was expected to do.

"I was walking down the hall and heard voices." Mrs. Hughes, with her cold blue eyes, grey hair, and stern demeanor looked around the room. The Duchess relied on her to make sure the household ran according to her standards. Sharon knew she had no patience with the Irish unless they worked very hard.

"I was reading out loud, trying to understand what her Ladyship and I covered in the lesson this mooring." Sharon replied, making it a point to look demure as possible.

"Not sure why Her Grace is letting you share in lessons, unless it is to help her Ladyship." Mrs. Hughes shook her head and sighed with disapproval.

"Her Grace is a very kind woman. I am very fortunate to work in the house." Sharon cringed as she almost groveled, but she knew how to placate the housekeeper.

"If I may give you some advice Sharon" Mrs. Hughes regarded her seriously as she went on. "Do not spend too much on books and such; you will never be anything more than servant." She turned around and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Sharon sat back down and felt like her spirit had been crushed. Her shoulders sagged, and she put the book aside. Clasping her hands tightly, she was trying to keep from crying, Mrs. Hughes was right, she had no future other than service.

Eamonn had heard the whole exchange and wanted to take the housekeeper to task, even as he knew it would do no good. He also felt so bad for Sharon, and when he peeked from around the screen, he saw how sad she looked. He went to the drinks tray in the opposite corner of the room. He took crystal sniffers and poured a small bit of sherry in them; his mother's preferred choice.

"If I may offer a nice warming beverage?" Eamonn was suddenly in front of her, holding two glasses of finely cut crystal that held an amber colored beverage. It bothered him how dispirited she looked, and how unfair everything was.

"I do not think Mrs. Hughes would approve of you offering a drink to a servant in the fine crystal." Sharon wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Clearly Eamonn had heard the whole exchange.

"Bugger Mrs. Hughes! There is an old saying that when you stop learning, you start dying." Eamonn announced with firmness, as he extended the glass to Sharon. He watched as she took a small sip, and then another.

"Oh, it is lovely!" Sharon commented, as he noticed how Eamonn sat down next to her.

"I have no doubt that the Lord has a great future in store for you, that will not include being a servant. You are smart, resourceful, and have spirit!" He raised his glass in a toast, and she raised hers in response. She could feel his warmth, the scent of slightly damp wool, and a spicy male fragrance.

"Would you read a poem to me? That was very clever the excuse you gave Mrs. Hughes." Eamonn asked after they had finished their sherry. He was glad to see the color was back in her cheeks, and she was smiling.

"Do you have a preference?" Sharon asked, trying not to be aware of Eamonn sitting right next to her. He suggested a poem, and she replied that it was one of her favorites. "She walks in beauty like the night" Sharon found the poem in the book and started reading.

Eamonn loved hearing her voice, with the soft Irish accent. The poem made him think of Sharon. She was so close that he could feel her body and liked how soft she felt, even with the corset. Without a second thought he put his arm around her shoulder and sighed at how easily she settled against him. Eamonn rubbed his cheek against her head, inhaling a faint floral scent.

He forced himself to focus on her voice, the sound of the rain, and the warmth of the fire. The afternoon came to an end much too soon; Eamonn let Sharon leave the room first. He waited almost half an hour, spending the time thinking about how lovely Sharon was, and that she deserved so much better.

It was ten days later and Eamonn approached the folly with a heavy heart. He had always known this day would come, and in the end, it was the correct thing for both of them. He reminded himself of that as he entered the structure and saw Sharon sitting there. Even in the plain black dress she was so pretty; he had many sketches of her among the estate grounds and on horseback.

"Hello Sharon" Eamonn said simply, as he went to sit next to her. She moved to accommodate him, and he liked how easy it was to be with her. He took a deep breath and decided to get right the point. His hands reached over and interlaced with hers, as she looked up at him, her dark blue eyes brilliant.

"I have some news" Eamonn stopped, and clasped Sharon's hands tight. He forced to remind himself again that it was for the best, as he sat up straight. Sharon though relieved him of delivering the news.

"I already know, you are leaving to go back to school." Sharon had heard the chatter among the servants. She was not surprised because she had always known that their friendship was temporary. The fact that he was holding her hands was giving her butterflies.

"Can I say that this summer has been the best period of my life, and it is because of you." Eamonn declared as he put his arms around Sharon. "I hate how the world is."

"Oh Eamonn, I feel the same way!" She put his arms around his waist and let him pull her tight against his body. "But we have always known what the world is, and how it works." Sharon sighed, being practical enough to know that fairy tales were only bedtime stories.

"Could I kiss you?" Eamonn asked slowly, not sure how she would respond. Her body was against his, which was playing havoc with his self-control. He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes, as his hand moved to caress her neck, and move up to cup her chin.

"Have you been kissed before?" Eamonn noted how soft her eyes were, while her full pink lips were already slighted parted. He was sure of the answer but wanted to hear the response from Sharon.

"No, I have not." Sharon was surprised she could get a coherent sentence out, considering the feelings Eamonn's body and hands were making her feel. She felt his body shift, as he tilted his head, while his hand on her chin moved her lips against his. At first the kiss was soft and slow, their lips and tongues barely touching, then it intensified.

"Bloody well I did not do this before; all my good intentions would be out the window." Eamonn declared as he pulled back. Sharon heard the desire in his voice, and it stirred her immensely. She had heard stories but had never imagined the feelings that a man could arouse in you.

"May I kiss you again?" Eamonn knew he was playing with fire, but Sharon touched him in a way deeper than any other person had. She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes shining with trust and passion. He groaned and brought his lips against hers before their tongues met and started on a dance of arousal.

"I think we need to stop." Sharon drew on every ounce of self-preservation, and the Holy Ghost. She knew that at the end of the day, neither she nor Eamonn wanted an impure relationship. Her body hurt with unsatisfied desire, but she gritted her teeth.

"Yes, you are right." Eamonn pulled back and adjusted himself, so he was not so close to her on the cushion. "Honestly you are not only the most beautiful, brilliant, and well-spoken woman I have met, but you are upright and good. I will never forget you Sharon." He stood up, and bowed to her, before leaving the folly. She spent the next hour sitting in the building, reliving the summer, before she gathered herself together and headed back to the castle.