Countess of Scandal (35 page)

Eliza murmured in her sleep, her fingers twisting at the sheets.

"Shh," he whispered, leaning over to gently kiss her forehead. "Go back to sleep now."

She went still again, sinking back against the pillows. Purplish shadows under her eyes, dark against her pale skin, showed how very tired she was. The weight she had carried for so long.

"Just rest, my love," he said. "I will make sure that you are safe." No matter what he had to do to accomplish that

Eliza still slept as he quietly left the chamber, making his way down the stairs in the still-silent house. The city itself was just as quiet Not even coal carts or milkmaids were about, as if the nighttime curfews extended into the morning—or as if everyone was too scared to stir out of doors. Windows were closed, despite the gathering heat, and the shop displays were empty.

Walls were plastered with posters and broadsheets, with cartoons of barbaric-looking "Paddies" piking old men and looting houses.

Will ignored those, stopping only to read the sheets that seemed to promise news, massacre at scullabogue! screamed one black headline. A killing of two hundred loyalist prisoners, mostly women and children, piked and
burned alive in a barn in Wexford. Another massacre, of ninety, at Wexford bridge. County Down overrun and then recaptured. Possible sightings of a French fleet to the south.

Will frowned as he read the hysterical reports. It seemed nothing much was known for sure; fear and hysteria still held sway. Battles were fought where neither side gained, and no one surrendered. Arrests and hangings, both of United leaders who fought and of people merely suspected of rebellion.

He turned away grimly, setting his path toward the gray fortress of Dublin Castle.

He wasn't sure what he had expected to find in those cold corridors—panic, noise, piles of guns. But once past the locked gates and the guards and the grim barred windows of Kilmainham Gaol, there was none of that. The place was eerily silent. The old Lord Lieutenant was gone, the new one not yet arrived, and it seemed everyone was keeping their heads down. Waiting.

A footman in red and gold livery led him along the corridors, past all the closed doors. At last they came to a room that was oddly familiar—the small private office where once he had found Eliza hiding at the queen's birthday ball.

"Wait here, please, Major," the footman said. "Someone will be with you very shortly." Then he was gone, leaving Will alone behind the closed door. He went to the one window, staring down at the Castle courtyard. It, too, was deserted, the flagstone shimmering under the hot sun. So different from that winter's night, when the space was full of revelers and frost covered the ground.

Will glanced back at the desk, at the tiny space beneath
where he and Eliza had hid, pressed close to each other in tense fear, anticipation, and desire. The desire had not faded, despite everything they had faced. In feet, it burned hotter than ever.

Papers were piled haphazardly atop the desk, awaiting someone's signature or seal Once, Eliza had found them so important she risked her life. Now they seemed an insignificant pile of kindling.

Idly, Will shuffled through them, scanning troop orders already made obsolete by new battles. Letters from angry landowners that made him laugh bitterly. Appointments for new officials, men sent by the government at Westminster to restore order. But how could order possibly be restored when war still raged?

And then, at the very bottom, a creased list that appeared to have been passed through many hands. Neat columns of names, people Will recognized as liberal lawyers and writers, Catholic shop owners and shipping merchants, book importers. Pamela and Lucy Fitzgerald, their names crossed out after they left the country. In the margin was scrawled,
People to be watched closely. Questioned?

The last name on the list was Lady Mount Clare.

Will's fist came down on the paper in fury, rattling the desk. Eliza was being watched, just as on that night he found her at the coffeehouse. And he could certainly guess what "questioned" meant Arrest Kilmainham. A hanging?

But he would never, ever-let that happen. Even if he had to fight the whole British government to stop it The door suddenly opened, a flustered-looking secretary appearing there with another stack of papers in his arms. Will swept the list beneath the other documents, forcing his fist to uncurl.

"Oh, Major Denton!" cried the secretary. "I am so sorry you have been kept waiting. General Fitch is on his way now to speak to you...."

"Eliza, my dear, you are awake at last! Come, have some breakfast," her mother said as Eliza made her way into the dining room.

Katherine, Anna, and Caroline were already making progress through the meal, with racks of toast and pots of tea scattered over the polished mahogany table amid jam jars and spoons. Anna seemed pale and preoccupied, Eliza thought, but Katherine was determinedly cheerful.

They all wore borrowed gowns from her own wardrobe, Eliza saw, which lent a faintly comic air to the scene, considering how much taller she was than everyone else.

"Mary tells me it has grown difficult to obtain things such as milk and butter of late, as the roads into the countryside are mostly closed," Katherine said as Eliza sat down. "There is little meat as well, but plenty of toast and jam and some tea."

"No chocolate, though," Caroline said. "Which I'm sure has Anna quite disconsolate. She drinks an inordinate amount of it at home "

Anna made a face at her. 'Tea is quite all right with me, I assure you."

Eliza was happy to hear her sister speak again, even if she did look distracted and pale.

."But you're not eating," said Caroline.

Anna glanced down at her plate, at the toast nibbled at the edge. *Tm not very hungry."

Caroline shook her head. "You'll never fit into your fine gowns again if you don't eat."

Eliza knew just how Anna felt; the thought of food made her slightly queasy, too. But she reached for the pot of jam and a piece of toast "Caro has a point, I think. We need to keep moving forward, think of the future."

"Even when it comes to something as frivolous as gowns?" Anna said quietly.

"Yes, even then " Eliza firmly spread a smear of strawberry jam over the bread, trying not to think of how its sticky redness looked rather like blood. "Has Will had breakfast?"

"Mary said he was gone long before we came downstairs," Catherine answered gently. "I'm sure he had a great deal of work to do, now that we are back in Dublin."

"Of course," Eliza said. Will was gone now. Would he return? "I may have to go out later, too."

"Are you sure that is wise, my dear?" Katherine said, passing Eliza a cup of tea. "Mary says everyone has been asked to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary."

"Wisdom, Mama, has never been one of my virtues." Eliza took a sip of the tea, even though she was still not at all hungry. "I won't be gone long."

Katherine frowned, but she did not argue. "The girls and I will set about altering these gowns, then. Even if no one sees us, we can't go around like this." She tugged at the sleeve of her borrowed black silk dress.

"I would rather read, Mama," Caroline protested. "Eliza's dress looks quite well enough for me."

Anna, who could usually be trusted to have an opinion on matters of fashion, merely stared thoughtfully into her tea.

"You cannot go about looking like a ragman's child, Caro," Katherine said. "But I suppose it does not signify now. I think we have all earned a respite from doing things we would rather not Now, Eliza dear."

"Yes, Mama?" Eliza said, setting aside her half-eaten toast

"I have been thinking. Perhaps, after all this awfulness is ended, the girls and I might stay here in Dublin for a bit. I haven't had a taste of town living for some time, and I'm sure Killinan can go on without us for a while."

"Yes, of course, Mama. You can use this house as long as you like," Eliza said in surprise. She could scarcely imagine her mother away from Killinan, or Killinan without her mother. The two had been synonymous for so long. But she had certainly learned that all things change, sometimes in the mere beat of a heart

"No, we can always take a house nearby," Katherine said. "You won't want us constantly underfoot, especially as Anna is going to be so busy with her Season next year. You must be accustomed to great independence now."

"Not at all. You
must
stay here. There is plenty of room in this vast old mausoleum," Eliza said. "But I thought you were going to England?"

"I see no need for that," Katherine answered with grim determination. "Ireland is our home. We can't leave it; we can't let anyone drive us away."

"Oh, how grand! I didn't want to leave," Caroline exclaimed "When will the bookstores and lending libraries open again, do you think? I am terribly behind on my studies."

Eliza smiled. It seemed Caroline, at least was recovering from her experience on their journey! She would lose herself in her studious pursuits.

Anna looked to be another matter, though. She still seemed quiet and preoccupied, despite the mention of her Season. But Eliza didn't know what could distract her from all that happened.

"I will see if any of the shops are open when I go out," Eliza said.

"I still wish you would stay in, my dear," said Katherine. "You need to rest."

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried, or even sit still," Eliza answered, sipping at the last of her tea. "I won't be gone long. Perhaps I can find some news of what is happening."

"I'm sure there is no good news to be had," Anna murmured.

"Even so, it is surely better to know," said Eliza. And she had to arrange for Billy's safe passage out of Ireland. She wondered if she should arrange her own passage while she was at it.

Chapter 31

Eliza sat in the drawing room after sunset with her mother and sisters, sewing and half-listening to Caroline complain about it every moment Her thoughts were far away, though, wandering and worrying. Where
was
Will? What happened at Dublin Castle?

Anna had been right—there was little enough good news to be found or reliable news of any sort at all. But there were rumors aplenty. The United armies had seized towns and barracks; no, the Crown forces had taken them back. United leaders were captured and hanged; no, they had escaped and were marching on Dublin. There was nothing certain known.

"Caro, dear," Catherine finally said. "Why don't you read to us for a time, if the needle is so onerous?"

Caroline happily tossed aside her stitchery. "At last My fingers are all bruised from this horrid work."

"You shouldn't be so clumsy, then," Anna said, examining her sister's puckered stitches as Caroline hurried to the bookshelves.

"Something cheering, if you please," Katherine called
after her. "A comic novel or some poetry. No ancient Celtic battles tonight." She glanced at Eliza, who tried to smile at her.

"I am quite all right, Mama" she said "I'm sure I won't faint away at a tale of warfare, no matter how violent."

"I think we have all had quite enough violence, don't you?" Katherine looked at the clock, ticking away on the marble mantel. "I'm sure William will return very soon."

Eliza nodded. "I'm sure he will."

They stitched on in silence, Caroline reading from Mrs. Burney's
Camilla
as the minutes ticked away on that clock. Only when Eliza was quite sure he would
not
return that night, that he had been dispatched to fight in Wexford or Antrim, did she finally hear the knock at the front door.

She jumped up from her chair, the sewing falling to the floor, as the butler came into the drawing room.

"Lord William Denton, my lady," he announced, as if at some formal reception.

"Will!" Eliza cried. She ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. He lifted her off her feet, holding her close. "Oh, Will, I thought you weren't coming back."

"I promised I would, didn't I?" he said, his face buried in her hair.

As he lowered her to her feet again, she stepped back to examine him carefully. He had shed his borrowed coat and loosened his cravat, the white linen stark against his tired, tight smile.

"You must be terribly hungry, William," Katherine said. "I'm sure there is some of that mutton stew left from supper. Come, girls, help me see what we can find in the way of provisions."

"Why should we...," Caroline began, but Anna grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room.

"Don't argue, Caro, for once," Anna said, her words muffled as Katherine firmly closed the door behind them.

"You do look as if you could use some sustenance, Will," Eliza said. "Here, sit down. I'll pour you a whiskey."

"No laudanum this time?" he said with a grin, lowering himself wearily onto the settee.

Eliza laughed. "None at all, I promise. You look quite tired enough without it" Despite the fact that she ached to know what had happened at the Castle, she took her time at the sideboard, pouring out two tumblers of whiskey. She handed him one as she sat down beside him.
"Fad gaol agat."