Rescuing Mr. Gracey (40 page)

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Authors: Eileen K. Barnes

BOOK: Rescuing Mr. Gracey
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Here, in the earl’s forest, wearing her old clothes, she would not be missed by the world if she were arrested and thrown into prison. Mary tried to swallow, tried to breathe. Noticing her distress, he laughed low, thick with pleasure.

“No,” she said. “Please…”

With a painful jerk of her braid, Bender said, “Is this not delicious?”

A tiny, hopeless cry escaped as he pulled her hair tighter, his large, sweating bulk pressing into her chest, his mouth whispering in her ear. “I detest giving you another choice. I would get great pleasure knowing you decay in the prison. However, I do not want Alec searching for the lost washerwoman. So, I reluctantly offer a different option.”

His yellow-green eyes hypnotized like a deadly cobra’s. “You return home, cut off all association with Alexander Gracey.” He let the weight of the option saturate before continuing. “Of course, I plan to assist you. I will write a note detailing your wickedness. Having a note from the slut, I know exactly how to devastate Alec.” He lost focus again, his eyes lowering, his face a mask of despair. “I could so easily kill you…do not underestimate my hatred for you. I would get great pleasure from doing so. Should Alec show up at your home, you must convince him your alliance is over. You no longer wish
any
—hear my words, lass—
any association
with Alexander Gracey. Do you understand?”

Her hands bunched against his chest to prevent him getting any closer, Mary nodded.

“Here is the most important detail. Should you not persuade Alec to stay away, he will meet with a tragic accident.”

No. Alec cannot die because of me.
She shook her head frantically. His other hand squeezed her jaw brutally. His expression wavered, as if he enjoyed her terror, her submission. His eyes grew wide; his brows raised. Bender’s hand slid to her throat. He squeezed. “’Twould be so easy to break this little neck…like a helpless bird…snap.”
 

Mary clawed for air. Her body bucked against the pain, the fear.

“But I must not do that again. Already cost me my inheritance, you see. Can’t enjoy that pleasure again.” He paused, panting, his eyes narrowing. “Yet who would know? And would her elimination end my problem?”

Mary’s eyes widened, her head shaking in denial. A wild light entered his terrifying eyes. The insane person seemed to be gaining power over the other, more reasonable Bender. He shuddered. “I must not. I must…”

Excited eyes scanned every inch of her. Releasing her throat, allowing air to flow once more, Bender maintained a painful hold upon the back of her neck. “Soldier…you may leave now,” he ordered the waiting officer. “I believe the young lady will not be arrested this day.”

Mary screamed, “No…no.” She tried to pound on his chest, but her reaction only delighted him all the more. Wrenching her hands to her back, he started to pant a kind of breathy chuckle.

A desperate darkness encircled her.
Alec promised to keep me safe.
For all his small stature, Bender’s wide girth stifled Mary’s tiny effort to escape. She screamed once more, releasing her anger, sorrow, anguish. He snarled, tossing her to the ground. His large bulk followed. He landed on top of her, crushing her, his hands groping repulsively. His weight suffocated her.
Breathe, Mary. Breathe.

“Do you think anyone hears you?” He laughed. Suddenly, his offensive weight slumped, and all movement stilled.

Mary froze without comprehension. Some kind of blessed assistance rolled his limp body from her.

“Ahhh Lord, I’m tinkin’ I’ve never been so scared,” Lily said. “Holy Mother, did I kill him?”

Dazed and shocked, Mary could only stare at Bender’s unconscious heap. Skittering backward, she wiped his slobber from her face. She stood, her legs like soft butter. Shudders overwhelmed her as she dared a closer look at the lifeless assailant. Blood oozed from the back of his head, spilling out to the sand. A red-stained rock lay accusatorially beside him. Mary covered her eyes. She had to think. What to do.

“Is he dead, Mary? Ahhh Lord. They’ll be takin’ us both ta prison, I’m sure of it. The soldier, he’s still in the forest.”

Mary kicked the man. She heard a low groan.

“No. He lives,” she said shakily. Every part of her quaked. Her stomach roiled. Acid burned her throat. She wanted to run to Alec. He could fix everything, surely.

No. No, Mary. He’ll kill him.
“Lily, we must be away from this terrible place. We must hurry.”

She swayed, stumbled, and Lily rushed to support her. “Ah, Mary, girl. Let me help ya. Lean on me, now.”

With a strength that surprised Mary, the pair of women negotiated the path. Every once in a while, Lily searched ahead to ensure the soldier would not surprise them. Finally, they entered the outskirts of Dolly’s Brae, and resting outside Lily’s dugout home, they sat quietly for a moment.

“Stay with me, Lily. I’m all out of courage, and I need ya here,” Mary whispered.

“Don’t be lookin’ back, Mary. ’Tis done. ’Tis done.” Her friend gently patted her back.

“How did you know I needed you?” she asked, leaning her head on Lily’s shoulder, her friend’s arm wrapped about her waist.

“Well, ya know I deliver milk to Castlewellan for Tim O’Neil in exchange for a bit of milk. Well, I’m walkin’ back home, and me little finger starts a’tinglin’, and I’m tinkin’ about the last time, ya know, at the dance.” Lily paused, editing her words. “Sure and I look down the road, and I see Mary Smyth herself walkin’ toward the lake.”

Mary gave her a small smile
.
Lily’s story had a calming effect on her, and, closing her eyes, she let her soothing tones warm her.

“I’m tinkin’ to meself, ‘Mary will be takin’ a bath,’ and I’m tinkin’ we could have a chat. Well, what do ya know, but Mr. James pops up from the brushes, and he’s sneakin’ behind ya. What the devil is he doin’, I say to meself. And then, who do I see but a British soldier givin’ Mr. James a signal like? I’m tinkin’ the two of them can be up to no good. So, I crept up, quiet like.”

Mary nodded, tears flowing uncontrollably. “Ya saved me, ya did,” she hiccupped.

“Aye, well, I was wonderin’ how t’ manage it. But then the Brit left sudden like, and Mr. James…ummm…was distracted. So I find meself the biggest rock I can carry, and I whack him a good one. Sure an’ his head’s goin’ to hurt like the devil when he wakes.”

“Aye…aye.” Mary could not calm the fierce trembling, but she signed herself with the cross, thanking the holy angels for sending Lily to her rescue. “You saved me, Lily.” Large, relieved tears fell as she hugged her friend for several long moments. “Ya saved me,” Mary said again. “I think he would have killed me.”

The pair sat beneath the tree for a long while until Mary finally offered, “I’ve been living with the Graceys these many weeks.”

Lily nodded. “’Tis all anyone talks ’bout in Dolly’s Brae.”

She glanced up at her friend. “What do ya mean?”

Lily shrugged. “There’s folks what seen ya dressed in fancy clothes at picnics and ridin’ with young Gracey on a fancy horse. The village’s been callin’ ya a Proddy traitor. Some wonders how ya could turn on your da like that.” Lily pulled grass and shook her head. “I never believed it, mind ya. Your father kept tellin’ people that Alec was a good man, even if he were a Gracey. He told everyone that Alec, he’s treatin’ ya kind.” Lily glanced at Mary and played nervously with her ragged dress. “I guess ya should know that yar mother’s been cryin’ tears. She’s fearin’ they are twistin’ yar thoughts. And Patrick keeps sayin’ he’s goin’ to call Gracey out for tarnishing yar reputation.”

Mary cried indignantly, “How could Patrick think that?”

“Yar da says no. He thought ya was safe. He likes Mr. Gracey.”

Mary dropped her head, shaking it slowly. “What of Sean?”

“Ah well, Sean’s not been round much. Me thinks he’s mournin’ ya.”

Grasping Lily’s hand, Mary said urgently, “No one treated me badly, or disrespectfully. Alec is so perfect—
iontach
Gael
—a gentleman, a wonderful, wonderful gentleman.”

“So, are ya goin’ t’ marry him, then?”

Shaking her head, Mary bit her lower lip. “No. The dream is over. Too many are against us, and Bender will kill me…or Alec.” Mary rocked back and forth, her head resting on her knees. “Oh, Lily. The Brit will be Mr. Bender’s witness against me.”

“Now, there. Mr. James ain’t gonna admit none of it. If’n he does, Gracey will kill him.”

Mary moaned as more tears rushed from her swollen eyes. “But Bender has done something terrible. Something about a girl. I think he may have killed someone.”

“Merciful Lord, and me tinkin’ he was a gentleman.”

Mary inhaled, squeezing her eyes shut. “I must keep away from Alec. I must. Mr. Bender is capable of terrible things, and if Alec tries to see me…” Mary choked out the words. “I pray to be strong when Alec comes.” She gasped. Her hands shook so violently, she had to clasp them to still their movement. “I’ve got to hurt him in order to save him.” Mary rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. “I loved the wrong man. Now everyone will suffer.”

“Well, now, doesn’t your da always say that the sun comes back as soon as the rain? ’Tis over? Ye’ll love another.”

After several moments, Mary whispered, “Ya must keep this secret, Lily. Ya must be the only one who’ll ever know what happened this day.”

“Ya knows I’m your trusted friend…”

Mary moaned. In a tiny whisper, she said, “Ya must go to Sean. Tell him…I’m wishing to marry him if he’ll have me.”

~ 38 ~

“For she wore the Orange...”

The flirty maid batted long, black lashes. “Miss Mary said she plans to stay abed this day. Woman complaint.” She cocked her head and leaned provocatively forward. “Can I help ya with anything else, sir?”

Alec scowled. Not only had he been denied access to Mary, but the blatant invitation from this woman made his stomach clench. “I’ve not seen you before,” Alec said.

“Been here but a day, sir. Me name is Sara.” She bobbed up and down, her puffy lips curving into an inviting smile.

Alec gave her his most disapproving frown. “For future reference, your flirtations are wasted on me.”

Blushing instantly, Sara lowered her head. “Yes, sir.”

“Where is Betsy?’

“I was told she needed a day, sir, and to stand nearby in case the young miss needs anythin’.”

“Please send word as soon as milady is up. I’ve something important to share with her.”

“Aye, that I will, sir.” Sara curtseyed, her eyes cast down.

Restless, Alec sighed. After spending a sleepless night planning this morning, he was anxious to see her, talk with her, get assurances that she would stay. Long strides carried him out of the manor and into the garden.

As a botanist, he tended to notice the health and condition of exotic or unique flowers, but today a humble daisy beckoned his attention. He smiled. Stooping low, he stroked the petal of the little white flower as he realized how changed was his life since Mary Smyth entered it. Pure, unadorned, the white flower stood amidst extravagant rose beds, waving boldly, proclaiming its right to exist.

Alec plucked it and stroked the tender bloom.
You’re in sad shape, Gracey. A wildflower sends you toward romantic thoughts.
His tidy existence had refracted, and now he looked through a new lens, a prism that burst forth multiple shades of color. As he tucked the flower inside his jacket pocket, his fingers brushed against the velvet box that rested near his heart. Opening the container, he studied the design—emeralds alternating with yellow diamonds inside a heart of gold—a symbol of two uniting in love.

His plan was simple. He would allow Mary to return home, though insist on opportunities to secretly see her for the next two weeks.

The by-election ended a week after the July twelfth march. Right now, Alec seemed to have garnered enough support to win the seat vacated by the death of the native sympathizer. If Alec was elected, the earl would be greatly disappointed by his shift in politics, but powerless to affect his votes.

After taking his seat in Parliament, he would propose changes for the Catholic tenant farmers and reinstate the prohibition of the marching laws. Of course, such an action would trigger an earthquake, but Ireland needed shaking up, a new moral road.

If he lost the election, at least his father would not be held responsible and his conscience and obligation to his family would be fulfilled.

Snapping the case shut, Alec replaced the ring in his jacket pocket. His hands trembled slightly, so he clasped them behind him. He was not naïve. Of course, a larger problem—one that he could neither plan against or predict outcomes for—lingered.

Once she accepted his proposal, a written notice of their marriage would have to be posted. He knew he had to marry in the Catholic Church, and thus political upheaval would follow. The Church of Ireland and the Order of the Orange would rage about his treason. By default, great pain would come to his own family. What would the Catholic ramifications be for Mary?

The weeks preceding the marriage would challenge their love… His kind, her kind, especially considering his name in the Catholic community and Mary’s name in the Protestant.

If he was not a member of Parliament, fleeing Ireland might be the only avenue left. Alec had already studied the calendar for the earliest opportunity to wed—four weeks from thence—the results of the vote would be ascertained, the banns would be posted, and they could marry by the first week in September. Still time enough to travel the seas to America, if need be.

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