"You've been very disapproving of me and my relationship with
Lochlainn, and you've admitted you know of the nature of that
relationship, that the two of us are lovers, and I can see
this really upsets you, though I'm not sure why apart from the
obvious moral reasons. So please, Ciara, tell me all of it. I
need to know if I'm ever to help you."
"It was so awful," Ciara wept, nearly breaking down again in
Muireann's arms,
She had to half-carry her back to the stable block, and at last
slumped her in a chair. Muireann poured Ciara out a measure of
Augustine's vile brandy, and waited.
"People will think I deserved it!" Ciara choked, the tears streaming
down her face in rivulets.
Muireann reached over and took her hand firmly. "I can't speak for
other people. But surely nothing you could have ever done would make
you deserve any of what Christopher did to you, or anything which
would make you like this."
She stroked Ciara's disheveled hair back from her face and raised
Ciara's hand, palm flat against her own callused one to show
Lochlainn's sister that she was trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"I have to tell you, because if you marry Christopher it will be a
disaster. You married Augustine. Thank God you didn't have a child
by him! And I'm terrified of the danger now that you and Lochlainn
are lovers!"
"What danger? What are you saying!" Muireann demanded.
"About six months after Christopher had run off with Tara, he
returned to Fermanagh. I was still working as housekeeper here,
though with so little money, there was little to do. Then Augustine
decided to have a huge gambling party here at the house, and
Christopher was invited.
"Christopher dared Augustine to try me out, as he put it, to see how
a woman compared with his usual tastes. They were drunk, but not so
drunk they didn't manage to attack me," she revealed in an agonized
whisper.
Muireann stared at Ciara's pinched white face in horror. "God, no."
She nodded. "Christopher treated the whole thing as a joke. Told
Augustine how well he had trained me in the arts of love. He didn't
even care that Augustine was my half-brother. But even worse was to
come," Ciara choked, and the tears began to fall again.
"My God! Did they hurt you?"
"Yes, but not in the way you mean. I soon discovered I was with
child."
"Oh no."
She nodded miserably. "It was the crushing sense of my own sin
as well as the physical illness. It was the natural horror, having
committed incest. The fact that I had no idea who the child's could
be. The terrible pregnancy. I was dreadfully ill with fear and
shock. It was my worst nightmare come true. I was terrified of what
people would say.
"I was so desperate, I even went to Christopher to ask for help. The
only thing I got was a handful of coins, as though I were some
beggar in the street, and a warning to keep my mouth shut about what
had taken place that night."
"That's terrible. Christopher let those men—"
She nodded. "And Augustine acted as though I was making up the
whole thing. Even if I had tried to go to the authorities, no one
would ever have believed me. They got off scot free."
"It's monstrous. I can't believe anyone could be so lost to
decency—"
"You knew Augustine," she pointed out.
Muireann nodded, and shivered. "Aye, but I was thinking about
Christopher. I know what Augustine was like, I saw something of what
you're telling me know with my own eyes, but Christopher…. You loved
him. How could he." She shook her head.
Ciara nodded. "I've asked myself that every day since the attack.
Even worse than the terrible treatment I received though, was the
birth. I suppose I had hoped, foolishly of course, that the child
would be Christopher's, that somehow I would be able to prove it.
That perhaps once he saw the baby, he would change his mind and come
to care for it at least, and acknowledge it as his own. It was the
only thing that stopped me from throwing myself in the lake."
"Oh, you poor thing."
Ciara sniffed back her tears. "Lochlainn and I could tell you how
hard it is to grow up without a father's love, labelled with an ugly
name through a quirk of fate and the narrow views of people
who knew nothing about love and compassion. I didn't want that
for my child, not if I could help it. But after a dreadful
pregnancy, the baby was born, and things were worse than I could
ever have imagined."
Muireann frowned. "I don't understand. Do you mean you had a
difficult birth?"
Ciara nodded, but suddenly added in a horrified whisper, "The baby
was born, and it was a monster, Muireann, a monster! Twisted,
deformed."
Muireann's eyes widened. "My God, Ciara, what are you saying?"
She put one hand up to her mouth and swallowed hard. "The infant was
like a gargoyle, hideous to behold. Evil begets evil, don't you see!
And we're in the family line! We're all related. What if it's
something passed on in our family? What if you have a child by
Lochlainn and it's the same? Twisted, malevolent. . ." Ciara
shuddered, clenching both her fists against her mouth now to choke
back her sobs.
Muireann felt the icy grip of fear clench her heart. She put her
hand on Ciara's shoulder and sought to reassure her as best she
could. "I know it must have been dreadful for you, but let's try to
be calm about this, shall we?
"First of all, as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, I know you and
Lochlainn are not evil people. Perhaps you two Roches are both proud
and haughty, but certainly not evil. You haven't told me everything,
Ciara. What happened to the child?"
"It's little life slowly slipped away. It never stopped bleeding
after they cut the cord, though we tried everything. So much blood
for such a tiny baby," she wept, scrubbing her hands against one
another in her lap.
Muireann hugged Ciara as she wept as though her heart would break,
and tried to think of something comforting to say.
At last, when she was convinced Ciara was ready to listen to her,
she remarked softly, "You and Christopher are first cousins, and
Augustine your half-brother. It wouldn't be so surprising for a
child born of such a union to have had a defect. The reason for the
Church's edicts on consanguinity preventing marriage between close
relatives is to make sure that those sorts of things never happen.
"I'm sure the baby's problems had nothing to do with evil, more to
do with being close family relations. I think that if there's never
been anything like this in your family before, there's no need for
you to worry about any baby I might ever have. There's no history of
children such as you describe in my family either, I swear!"
"I've tried to reason these things out as you have, Muireann,
honestly I have, but I'm so afraid. Don't you see, none of us can be
sure. That's why you can't marry Christopher, and you can't have a
baby with Lochlainn. That's why I can never run the risk of having a
child again!" Ciara insisted.
Muireann rose and gazed out the window of the small office for a
moment before turning to face Ciara.
"Please, listen to me. I understand that everything you've been
through has been terrible, but life is all about taking risks. We
can't just give up on living because it's dangerous. We can't stop
ourselves from being happy for fear that we might end up unhappy.
"I love Lochlainn, and I'm prepared to take the risk of having a
child with him. If I stopped our relationship now because I was
afraid of what you've told me, it would be like cutting off my right
arm."
"But to have a child like that! It would kill you! It would kill
Lochlainn!"
"No, it wouldn't," Muireann said firmly. "Lochlainn would be
grief-stricken, true, as would I, but that's no reason to sacrifice
our happiness now, or whatever happiness we will have for as long as
we love each other."
"Please, won't you reconsider?"
Muireann sat down heavily in her chair. "I suppose I've been taking
unnecessary risks all along. Sooner or later I'm bound to become
pregnant. Perhaps now isn't the most convenient time to have a baby,
with things being as they are at Barnakilla.
"So if it will make you feel better, I'll say that I shall avoid
Lochlainn in that way, make excuses, make myself unavailable, maybe
even come to your house and share your room, if I may, so he won't
get too suspicious. But as soon as I see some light at the end of
the tunnel, I want you to tell him the truth," Muireann added
firmly.
"What if we lose Barnakilla?" she whispered, her horror at the very
thought clear in her tone.
Muireann patted her shoulder again, and rose to pace in front of the
hearth. "I know things are bad because of the Famine, but I'm
not beaten yet. This is my home now. I'll do anything to keep it,
even if it mean swallowing my pride and telling Father everything."
"But Christopher threatened to take it away from you! I heard him
through the door. He said if you didn't marry him, he would put
himself forward as the rightful heir!"
She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I have no intention of
marrying him. Nor am I going to give up and run away. My
brother-in-law is a powerful man, and Anthony Lowry is an excellent
solicitor. I won't give up without a fight, you can be sure of that.
"And even if Christopher is legally entitled to Barnakilla, it was a
bankrupt ruin at the time of Augustine's death, and I have all the
ledgers to prove it. Even if they say he has a title, it is clear
how much I've invested. That I've acted in good faith, working on
the assumption that I was Augustine's lawful wife, and therefore his
legal heir.
"I'm fairly confident that in order to get that money back I'll
still be allowed to sell the estate to reclaim my share of what I
put into it, and we can start again somewhere else."
"What will become of me? I couldn't stay here with Christopher, and
you wouldn't want me, not after the way I've treated you. Besides,
people think I'm mad!"
Muireann ran over to Ciara's side and put her arm around her.
"You're not mad! You've kept this secret inside for so long, it's
festered there. Once you tell Lochlainn, you'll be free from the
past. I'm know you were abused and mistreated, but please don't
think you're destined to have to pay for the rest of your life for
your foolish error in trusting Christopher."
"But I loved him, I trusted him, fool that I was! I deserved what
happened for having given in to him willingly!" Ciara moaned.
She lost all patience then and shook Ciara by the shoulders until
her head snapped back to look up into Muireann's blazing amethyst
eyes.
"Get that idea out of your head right now! You might have made love
to Christopher in the past, but he and Augustine attacking you is a
completely different matter. You were Augustine's half-sister, for
God's sake!"
Ciara squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, and then asked, "Augustine
never--"
Muireann shook her head. "No, he never did. He went back to
his old ways as soon as the ring was on my finger. I was horrified
at first, of course, but at least it spared me any repulsive
physical attentions," Muireann admitted with a ragged sigh.
"Thank God for that." Ciara crossed herself.
Muireann straightened her back and suddenly declared, "Come
now, Ciara, it's been a long day for both of us. I think it's about
time you headed back home and went to bed."
"You won't tell Lochlainn?" she demanded frantically.
She shook her head. "It is up to you to tell him. I just hope no one
gossips about the baby before you get a chance to break the news to
him gently. Sooner or later someone will let something slip. Even
Christopher himself, out of spite. Or to give Lochlainn an excuse to
attack him, try to kill him. He wants Lochlainn out of the way so he
can take over here. Well, he can wish all he likes. He;s not
going to outwit me."
"You will be careful, won't you, Muireann?"
She gave a wan smile. "I promise, I'll be careful for now, anyway,
just until we get over this bad patch. I love Lochlainn, but he's
very confused at the moment, what with Christopher coming back and
everything else. If we're meant to be together, then that aspect of
our lives can certainly keep for a few weeks."
Muireann escorted Ciara to her own door, then walked with a heavy
tread back to the office, where she went straight into her small
chamber and threw herself on the bed. God Almighty, what a nightmare
all of this had suddenly become.
Damn Christopher to hell, and Augustine along with him, she thought
resentfully.
And damn Lochlainn, for never having told her who he really was.
Douglas Caldwell's son.