Return to Rhonan (12 page)

I am sorry my letter upset you, as I know you have such a tender heart.  I can assure you that we are visiting the cottars every three days now with fresh
victuals,
and your money will help so much. We cannot feed all ten families at once so we
have 
a rota of three families per visit then another three families the next, and so on. Our visit to the cott
a
rs was tragic. It breaks my heart when I think of when we were children, the number of times we would steal away to the cottages to listen to old Patrick’s stories about the fairies and the mermen, you on his knee and me and Robbie at his feet.  It used to be so cosy with the turf fire glowing.  It never went out did it, summer or winter?

Alice is just skin and
bones,
and you know how bonny she was.  We just stood together and cried.  She is
devastated,
and Robbie is so thin.  The other children can scarcely stand. I am terrified Brianna, terrified of what is going to happen here.

We have to find more help.  They have stopped the road works saying the work is useless and of no importance. The only roads left are those to the farms that are just tracks really. I am appalled and ashamed at the destitution and squalor in which our poor friends exist. Honestly, at times like this, I wish I were a man. I could do so much more – bully the landlords into helping the cott
a
rs, not evict them.

I hate this inequality – women have very little power.  As such, our efforts are insignificant. We cannot even suggest anything at the meetings.  Oh no, it is up to the men, sitting on their arses pontificating instead of doing anything.  Dorothea and Aileen are now doing their utmost to persuade their papas to help the tenants. However, with little success. Like
us,
they are ferreting food out at night inveigling trusted servants to guard them.  So between the three of
us,
we are looking after about thirty families.  Yet sadly, it is not
enough; our
beloved friends are suffering; now some are dying. Duncan and our darling Guy, are both working like slaves to help.  However, that bloody Max, he is a bastard, selfish – corrupt. I am near to horsewhipping him. Only the other night he dared to enter my bedchamber without permission. I do declare I felt threatened and with good reason, I found out. Nevertheless, I evaded his amorous intentions and with a whack across his head with my hairbrush, sent him packing.  I dare not tell Duncan, blood would be shed. 

He is so afraid for
us; more
landlords have received death threats. Although I love Duncan, I am fed up with him following me around. He insists he is guarding me. For God’s sake, I match him in swordplay, temper and shot. Why do men treat us as if we are porcelain dolls?
Honestly,
Brianna, women are stereotyped as witless, fragile, fainting at every hint of excitement. It is only the stupid corsets that bring that about. At
least,
you and I are one accord on this.  Meg does not help either, moaning at me as usual for wearing breeches and frockcoat.
Well,
why not? There are other women standing out for what they believe in.  Tis just tradition has subjugated women.  In earlier times, we were equal.  Men were devoted to the Goddess, to the Great Mother.  However, with the advent of Christianity and that misogynist Paul, it changed.

One day we will wear trousers, have a say in politics, and have the right to own land. I mean that twit Lord McCarthy has married an heiress with a fortune of fifty thousand pounds, and an estate with a manor
house,
but it is his to do with as he pleases, she has no rights at
all,
and it’s hers for God’s sake.  However, as soon as she married she lost the right to everything.   Ridiculous – insane.  What is wrong with these women? If I say anything, they back away and shudder in horror at my boldness.   They twitter on about ‘women must know their place’. We do not even have the right to write or publish under our own names.   Meg was positively affrighted at my speech as usual, well bollocks to that.

  I have read of German authoresses who freely curse and yet write so adroitly, women who are free to be natural, without adhering to the insane rules of polite society, a society that enslaves women treating
us,
as
though
we are little more than animals.  Uncle respects his horse more than he does Aunt Flavia. Alas though, he is so frail and can scarce walk without his cane. He now suffers a hacking cough and has the gout to add to his discomfort. Only last week he took to his bed for over four days.  Aunt Flavia was affrighted and called for the physician.   He protested heartily at being bled, but gave in with ill grace.

Duncan has no time for him now in his complete indifference to the suffering of our poor tenants. It quite breaks my heart Brianna.  As I said above, our dear friends are suffering. Alice and Robbie and their young family will be forced to move to the Coast without food or shelter until they build a home. But of course, Duncan, myself and other willing volunteers will help them. I just wish we could help them all. 

Oh dear I hear Aunt Flavia calling me for dinner. I shall eat half of it and save the rest for the children. I have to
go,
and John is waiting for the letter. I shall write to you again, Poste haste. There is more to say.

I am your devoted and loving sister,

Mu
riall.

C
HAPTER 
1
8

Douglas felt sand churn in his stomach. She looked ready to walk out. Why the hell couldn’t he keep his suspicions under wraps and why the hell couldn’t Nat keep his bloody mouth shut? He had to think fast, his most valuable guest could be checking out on her first night.  ‘According to Father O’Reilly it’s all clear.’  He knew he was lying through his teeth, knew that the priest warned of a darker power than Muriall. To the priest, she was a sweet young woman, who protected people from the darker power. He felt his jaw bunch into a knot as he waited for Jessie’s response.

‘You mean to say you carried out an exorcism, and you didn’t even warn me? Who do you think you are?’

Nat bit his
lip; she
was a force to contend with when roused, the pale skin of her cheeks now aflame, her eyes like emeralds glittering.

Douglas interrupted, ‘Look we can move you.  Move you right now. We have another suite. It does not have all the amenities, but we can move you.’

Dinah cut in. ‘Those are gorgeous rooms Jess.’

Nat interrupted ‘The best we have−’

Dinah shot him a glance as if to say ‘shut up’ and continued speaking. ‘It’s all set up for you and Daisy.  If the place has been exorcised, then it should be fine. Look I’ll stay with you tonight.  Just let’s try it out
. You’ll soon know. You’ll sense it anyway.’ 

Douglas’s hope of bedding Jessie slipped away. Gritting his teeth, he waited for her reply.

Jessie took a deep breath, holding him mesmeri
z
ed as he watched the swell of her full breasts.  ‘Oh alright – just for tonight.’

Douglas cut in. ‘Look I’ll come back with
you; I
can scour every corner.
’

Nat intrigued with the situation
,
still sought answers. Had Jess maybe dreamt of their Muriall?   Lightening his voice, he said half laughingly, ‘Hey why don’t we all go and see this famous portrait of Muriall? See if it’s like the woman you photographed today.’

Douglas caught his breath, why did Nat have to drag that up
again?
What was up with the guy?   Yet, he referred to the woman by the lake and not Muriall. Looking at Jess, he could see she did not resent the underlying allusion to Muriall, in
fact,
her eyes brightened.  ‘Now that would be interesting.’

Dinah laughed in assent, ‘Yes that would confirm there is some kind of spirit life. We spiritualists are always looking for proof. ’

Nat rose to his feet, ‘Come on bring your drinks with you. There’s a ‘snug’ as they call it on the same floor.  It was the name given to a women’s bar
;
even up until fifty years ago,
they were not allowed in a pub.   We’ve turned it into a nice little bar, quite cosy.’

The oblong gallery was tastefully decorated with deep burgundy offsetting the gilt framed canvasses.   Lightly holding Jess’s elbow, Douglas led her to a large rectangular painting in a gilt frame. Mounted on the wall beneath it, was a brass plaque with the words, The
Right Honourable Earl of Rhonan.
‘Duncan, our erstwhile ancestor.  As
you know,
already it’s rumoured he killed himself when Muriall  disappeared.’

Jessie looked up at the image, her heart beating a tattoo.  ‘It was the same portrait as the miniature in the locket, obviously painted by the same artist. The dark locks tousled on the forehead, the eyes that pierced the full bottom lip.  God he was handsome, as handsome as the guy standing beside her right now.  Douglas and Duncan could be one and the same person.

Dinah interrupted her thoughts, ‘Now that’s
uncanny; you
can see the genes running through the
generations; you're
his spitting image Douglas.’

Jessie caught Dinah’s slight nod, the silent message in her eyes.  She too realized the close resemblance to the portrait in the locket. 
Later,
they would have a lot to talk about.

Nat laughed, ‘Nothing like
me; I
inherited my mother’s genes.’

Lucy smiled, thinking he was quite a dish, also a looker but in  a different way to Douglas,  his face more rugged, the hair a
dark blonde
and hazel eyes to die for.

Douglas moved towards an
oval-shaped 
canvas on the far wall, his grip tightening on Jessie’s shoulder.  He felt her slight tremble as she looked up at the portrait, ‘Oh my God.’

Dinah whispered, ‘Jessie it might as well be you. Spooky,’

Lucy murmured, ‘Same green eyes, red hair.’

Silently,
Jessie moved forward her eyes fixed on the gold locket.  It had the intertwining spiral of the ancient Celts the same pattern as the one as she had in the dresser drawer upstairs.

Dinah seeing her look at the locket, kept quiet.  Jessie obviously wanted to keep it a secret. 

Douglas asked, ‘So is she anything like your mysterious lady of the lake?’

Jessie bit her lip, ‘Yes – exact. She’s also the exact image of the woman in my dream.  So, it seems I’ve inherited the Scottish looks’. She was glad Dinah had taken her lead and not mentioned the locket. Something was wrong.  Douglas seemed to be in some kind of conflict, over Muriall – but why? 

She felt his fingers stroke the back of her neck, felt her immediate responses as ripples of desire streaked through her body. God what a dilemma.  He angered her yet she’d wanted him from the moment they’d met in the foyer, wanted his hands on her, her skin flushing hot at the mere thought of those lips on hers.

Douglas took Jess’s hand, ’Let me show you the younger son Maximilian, next in line to the earldom – he was a rake – member of the Hell Fire Club.’ He stopped before the portrait of a young man with a rather cynical expression in the blue eyes, in contrast to Duncan’s dark locks and full bottom lip, his hair was a light brown with blond streaks, the lips whiplash thin. Jess’s heart quickened.  He was the man in the dream hiding behind the trees watching the lovers. But, after the peculiar conversation in the
bar,
she was not going to mention it. Studying the fashionable frockcoat, the striped vest and pantaloons
,
Jess said, ‘He looks like he’s got a mean streak.  There’s no softness about him is there?’

Douglas shook his head, ‘Quite a nasty specimen, gambling, duelling. According to my solicitor, he was a member of the Hell Fire Club – Satanism. But come and see the sister, Margaret.’

Jess looked up into the mellow blue eyes of young woman with blonde ringlets, posing in a low cut dress of blue satin with lace trims. ‘’She’s lovely – so different from Muriall.  She looks gentle whereas Muriall has a kind of wild energy about her.’

He then showed her the rather imposing portrait of Duncan’s father, the former Earl in full regimental dress and the Countess, with a beautiful milk white skin and dark ringlets, a dainty King Charles spaniel nestling in the dark satins of her skirt.

Scowling at the Earl, Douglas said, ‘He was a bastard – showed no mercy to his
tenants,
so I hear.’  He decided to withhold the rest of the Earl’s history; it was too morbid and would spoil the lightness of the mood. Taking her hand in his, he said, ‘Anyway, changing the subject let me search your room for you.  It will set my mind at rest as well as yours. I promise I won’t make a move on you.’

Jess dimpled and laughed, half wishing he would.

Dinah put her arm around Jess’s shoulders. ‘I’ll stay with you tonight.
’