Destiny's Path (25 page)

He felt her stroke his head gently as she had when he was a child but it was a while before he managed to stop weeping and even then he stayed where he was, taking comfort from that soft hand. As he started to get to his feet, she pushed his hair back from his damp forehead and kissed him there, another habit from childhood. She’d always said she was kissing something better, but no one could kiss away those horrifying years in prison and the stigma that they’d placed on his life.

‘I’m so thankful I’ve been spared to hear this news, Conn darling,’ she said as he got to his feet and sat down beside her on the sofa. ‘I was so worried about who would comfort you and keep up your spirits once I wasn’t here. Now, circumstances are going to change, even if it takes some time, and—’

‘Don’t talk about that! I can’t bear to think of losing you.’

‘Dear boy, I’ve been in severe pain for years and I’m weary of it, so very weary. Now, I’m getting a pain in my chest if I do something. It’s . . . getting hard to cope with it all and I’m more than ready to die. But to have a child die before yourself, well, that seems utterly wrong. Whatever Michael had done to you, death is such a final thing – and he was like a son. He had no time to ask
your
forgiveness, but at least he spoke to a priest, repented and tried to make amends.’

‘I don’t think I could have forgiven him.’

‘Was it so very bad? You’ve always refused to talk of that time.’

‘Yes. Very bad.’ He changed the subject. He’d promised himself never to talk of
that time
to her. ‘I’m sorry that you have to grieve for him. I know for certain Michael loved you. We all do. You’ve been the best of mothers. But I don’t want—’

She put one finger on his lips. ‘Shh. You grow more used to the thought of death as you grow older. I’m quite reconciled to dying, especially now we’ve had this news.’ She kept hold of Conn’s hand. ‘There’s more news for you in the letter. Good news, this time. Here. Read it for yourself.’

He took the two sheets and they brought back so many memories, because Kieran was writing as he talked, not stiffly, as people do in a duty letter. He read slowly, savouring the sound of his brother’s voice echoing behind the carelessly scrawled words. Then he came to the word ‘Kathleen’ and for a moment or two his mind refused to read on. He had to take several deep breaths before he could force himself to read the next part.

Have you had any news of Kathleen? I didn’t know she was leaving until she’d gone. I tell you frankly, she’s no loss to us. I never realised what she was like until after Father died and I had to cope with her. He found her amusing and encouraged her arrogance. I didn’t
.

Will you ask Conn if he still wants to seek an annulment? Is he still in a position to do so from non-consummation? If so, I’ll set it in train here and he must do the same in Australia
.

I know you said we should look after her, because she can’t look after herself, but I couldn’t face having her live at Shilmara. I did offer to buy her a house somewhere, and her brother is managing her money for her, though she complained at how little it was. She has no idea of how to manage money
.

She flew into a rage when I refused to let her stay, and remained in a rage for days, smashing things until we had to set a watch on her. She was very attached to Shilmara, I grant you, considered it her home, but it can never be that again
.

Then she packed up and left while I was away, not leaving any indication of where she was going. It wasn’t till later that I found she’d gone off with Mrs Maguire to Australia, and taken poor Orla (do you remember her?) with her. No one has heard any more from either of them since
.

It would be a relief to me and her brother to know Kathleen has arrived safely. I presume she went there to see Conn. Surely even she should realise she’s the last person he would want to see? Or perhaps not. She’d grown very strange
.

Life at Shilmara continues and you’re about to become a grandmother again. This time we hope for a daughter . . 
.

Conn finished reading the letter and sighed. ‘Good news for me on both counts, isn’t it, though it’s a sad way for it to happen? If someone’s helping me with an annulment there, then I think I stand a much better chance of obtaining it, though it’ll probably still take years.’

‘It’s wonderful news for you. It means that one day you can follow your heart. Maia’s a wonderful young woman, so loving and kind.’ She patted his hand again.

Once she’d have leaned sideways and given him a kiss, but now her movements were more limited and twisting was something she avoided. There was always a tightness to her smile, as if she was holding back pain. So he twisted round to kiss her instead. ‘You’re the best mother I’ve ever had, the very best.’

It was an old joke between them and it made her smile, as he’d hoped. She countered, as usual, by saying, ‘And you’re the best son I’ve got in all Australia.’

‘Do you want me to write back for you? I know it hurts your hands to write.’

‘We’ll both write. I think I should write my own letter this time, don’t you?’

He knew then that she thought it’d be the last she ever wrote to Kieran but he kept his pain at that thought to himself, as she always tried to hold back her physical pain.

‘Well, that was good news in the midst of bad. Let’s write straight away and send the letters up to Perth. I want to make sure Kieran is helping with the annulment and pushing it forward as quickly as possible. That’s far more important than a pardon to me. Maybe your second cousin, the Bishop, will stir himself on my behalf.’

His father had forsaken his religion for the one followed by the English establishment, but his mother had remained true to the Catholic Church, even though that had caused considerable trouble with her husband.

His father had been quite happy for his younger sons to attend their mother’s church, though he’d tried to make his heir change his religious allegiance. But like his mother, Kieran had refused and that was a good thing now if he was to help Conn.

At a sound outside, she looked up. ‘I think that must be Ronan coming back from his ride. Better give him his letter before you settle into writing to your brother. You’re lost to the world once you get a pen in your hand and you have a beautiful way with words. You should have been a poet, I think.’

As Ronan was coming back to the house from the stables, he saw Conn waiting for him on the rear veranda.

His friend handed him a letter, with, ‘Bad news, I think.’

Ronan took it from him, freezing for a moment as he noticed the black border. ‘It’s Patrick’s handwriting, so it’s not him, at least. He’ll not have had time to get my letter telling him of Mother’s death, so who else have we lost in the family?’ He frowned as he stuffed the letter in his pocket. ‘I’d not have thought he’d have gone into deep mourning for a mere cousin or aunt, but perhaps his wife’s family consider it necessary. Anyway, I’ll read this in private, if you don’t mind.’

In his bedroom he closed the door carefully then smoothed out the envelope, slitting it open with a feeling of dread. He read the letter, then sat down on the bed to read it again more slowly. He was so shocked by the news it contained that he couldn’t move and sat staring into space for a long time, trying to come to terms with what this meant for him. Huge changes to his life, changes he didn’t welcome, but couldn’t refuse.

After a while, he got up and took off his riding clothes, washing carefully to get the smell of horses off himself before he put on his day clothes. His thoughts wandered like butterflies as he looked at himself in the mirror, anything rather than think about the news he’d just received. He was glad he hadn’t had his new trousers made as tightly as fashion dictated. So uncomfortable. He put a handkerchief in his pocket and patted it, glad to have the new semicircular pockets at the front, because they were more practical.

Trying not to think what it contained, he slipped the letter into the other pocket before joining his hostess and friend.

Conn was with his mother in the small sitting room where she spent her days during the winter. She looked so frail, Ronan worried that each day would be her last.

‘May I join you?’

She gestured to a chair and asked quietly, ‘Was it bad news?’

‘I’m afraid so. And a dreadful shock, too. I can hardly believe it. It’s from Patrick, my youngest brother. He normally lives in England but he was at Ardgullan House when he wrote. It seems . . . I can’t believe it, but my brother Hubert has died suddenly – he was only thirty-four – and I’ve inherited the family estate.’

‘Was there an accident?’ Mrs Largan asked.

‘No. He just dropped dead. For no reason that anyone could see.’

‘This must be the season for deaths,’ Conn said. ‘We had similar news, only it’s my cousin Michael who’s died.’ He shared the details, his voice breaking as he spoke of the possibility of his conviction being overturned.

Ronan went to clap him on the back and wish him a speedy pardon or whatever it was they did when someone had been wrongfully accused. And a speedy annulment too.

After they’d settled down again, Mrs Largan rang for a tea tray and while they waited for Maia to bring it, she said, ‘You’ll go straight home, of course, Ronan.’

‘Yes. I’ll have to. Only it’ll be nearly two months before there’s another mail steamer. Perhaps I’ll go and see what ships are leaving Fremantle.’

‘There aren’t a lot of ships that sail from there,’ Conn said, ‘and they’re not usually steamers like the mail ships, so the journey takes longer.’

Ronan sighed. ‘This really is an isolated place. Perhaps you’ll move back to Ireland once your innocence is established, Conn?’

‘I doubt it. I like it here. Look, I’ve been thinking. You could probably catch Bram’s friend if you go straight up to Perth. He might be able to take you to Galle if you pay him well – he seems to have no fixed itinerary – and as Pandora told us, you can quickly get a ship to England from Galle. If I remember correctly, much of the Indian and Far Eastern trade uses that port for coaling or replenishing their food and water.’

‘What a pity you didn’t find out before Xanthe left!’ Mrs Largan said. ‘You could have gone together. I do worry about that girl travelling on her own. I don’t care how sensible she is, a woman alone is vulnerable, especially one so young and beautiful.’

‘Yes. It is a pity.’ More than a pity, Ronan thought. It was as if fate was deliberately keeping them apart. He wondered if destiny would make their paths cross again, hoped it would.

If he had to go back, he was going to find her and see if his feelings for her were still as strong. And if they were, then to hell with convention. He might be the son and heir, but he was also a man in love.

But he didn’t share those thoughts even with Conn. He simply set about packing and arranged to borrow the small horse and cart, with the oldest and most sensible stable lad to bring it back to Galway House again.

Bram had taken lodgings with Dougal’s mother and sister in Fremantle, so Ronan found him quite easily. As the family of a ship’s captain, even a small elderly ship like the
Bonny Mary
, they had a house large enough to contain spare bedrooms which they let out to selected lodgers, more for the company than from a need for money.

When he explained that he needed to get back to Ireland as quickly as possible, they offered him a room. It seemed that Dougal was due back any day now and if anyone could help, it would be him.

With relief, Ronan sent the lad and cart back to Conn with a note of thanks, explaining where he was and saying he’d write when he reached Ireland.

It was at times like this that the extreme isolation of the Swan River Colony was really brought home to you, Ronan thought. He spent most of the first day indoors, sheltering from a heavy downpour, alternating between reading a book – and a boring one, it was, too! – and chatting to Bram.

The following day was fine and he went out to stroll round Fremantle. He watched the convicts working on a bridge across the river, a huge wooden structure nearly a thousand feet long. He went on to look at the jail which dominated the town from the top of a limestone ridge, wondering if Conn had been incarcerated there when he arrived. He admired one newly built stone building of Gothic architecture, surprised when a passer-by told him it was the lunatic asylum. Did they have so many lunatics here?

In great contrast, some of the tiny wooden houses were as small as the poorest huts in Ireland, but it must be easier to live in such places in a warmer climate.

He tried to rein in his frustration at the delays and at least using up some of his energy by going for a long walk meant he slept better the second night.

It was three interminable days later that they heard the
Bonny Mary
had docked in Fremantle. Ronan was all for going straight down to the docks, but Dougal’s sister said this wasn’t the time to disturb him as he’d have the arrival formalities to go through and the cargo to unload.

It wasn’t till late evening that Dougal arrived home, delighted to see Bram again and surprised to see Ronan. He was even more surprised to learn that Ronan was desperate to get back to Ireland and commiserated with him on his loss of a brother.