The Irish Upstart (19 page)

Oh dear
. He glanced at each of his stunned daughters and remarked,
“
Also, Charles has assured me those generous dowries will remain the same.
”
He could not resist adding—the devil again—
”
If the need ever arises, which it has not thus far.
”

Lydia rose to the bait.
“
You know full well the girls have so many proposals they don’t know what to do with them.
”

“
Oh, do they now?
”
He ventured a slight raise of one eyebrow.

Lydia turned beet red.
“
This is not to be borne. If you think for one minute I’ll give up my rights to this house for one of Randall’s by-blows, you are much mistaken.
”

“
Not a by-blow, madam. He and Patrick’s mother were legally married.
”

“
Oh, Mama,
”
Charlotte suddenly wailed,
“
I wanted to be called Lady Charlotte and now I cannot.
”

“
And I wanted to be the daughter of an earl,
”
cried Bettina.

“
But we still have each other,
”
Amanda near whispered, but no one except her father heard.

“
Oh, one more thing,
”
said Walter, acting as if he’d forgot, but really he hadn’t. Knowing how this next would be received, he wanted to delay the revelation of this additional outrage as long as possible.

Lydia regarded him with eyes that gleamed like glassy volcanic rock.
“
And what might one more thing be, Walter?
”

“
The boy is not coming alone.
”

There was a chorus of,
“
What?
”

“
My brother has informed me the young lad will be accompanied by his half sister. I believe her name is Evleen.
”

Another shocked silence.
Oh dear, oh dear
.

“
Irish trash in
this
house?
”
asked Lydia in a voice like ice.

“
Er... the boy is only ten. He needed—
”

“
The Irish are low and common,
”
said Lydia,
“
no better than savages, the lot of them.
”

“
I have heard they live in mud huts and eat dirt,
”
Charlotte contributed.

Bettina giggled.
“
Then it won’t cost much to feed them, will it?
”

Charlotte grimly smiled.
“
Perhaps we can clean her up and make a servant of her.
”

Lydia spoke again.
“
This Evleen... Walter, does she even speak English?
”

“
Er... I’m not sure. Charles did mention, however, that her family on her father’s side is descended directly from the Kings of Ireland. Her mother is descended from royalty, too.
”

Lydia sneered.
“
Who gives a fig for Irish royalty?
”

“
Oh, I know,
”
proclaimed Bettina with another giggle,
“
We shall call her the Irish Princess.
”

“
Quiet, all of you,
”
commanded Lydia.
“
This is no time for frivolity, Bettina. Walter, you must do something.
”

“
But—
”

“
I mean it. I’ll not have this. There’s nothing you can do at the moment, but after Patrick arrives, we shall wait and we shall see. And as for the half-sister...
”
Lydia’s small eyes squinted in concentration.
“
How old did you say she was?
”

“
I didn’t say. She’s a grown woman, apparently.
”

“
Grown, eh? Well, mark my words, I shall not be outdone by the likes of some greedy, grasping little peasant from Ireland.
”

“
On the contrary, Charles told me Lord Thomas spoke quite highly of her.
”

“
She’ll be after Thomas if she isn’t already.
”

“
Perhaps even Montague,
”
Charlotte chimed in alarm.

Walter threw up his hands.
“
Please, ladies. You must not pass judgement on someone you haven’t even met.
”

“
I don’t have to meet her to know what’s going on,
”
said Lydia, glowering.
“
At this very moment she’s no doubt sashaying herself across Ireland, throwing herself at Thomas’s head, having herself a marvelous time thinking of the fortune she’s about to get her claws into.
”
Lydia’s expression grew hard and resentful.
“
We’ll not have it, will we girls? Irish princess indeed.
”

Chapter 9

On the rolling deck of
The Countess of Liverpool
, Evleen leaned over the bulwark and heaved again. Never in all her life had she been so miserable.

“
Are you all right?
”
Patrick stood beside her, red hair whipping wildly in the northern gale, his little face pinched with concern. Through some miracle, he remained unaffected by the rolling and tossing of the ship, as did Lord Thomas. She was far from being the only pitiful soul hanging over the side, though. Many of the other passengers were suffering the same as she.

The bow dipped into a deep trough formed by the churning waves and abruptly rose again, leaving her stomach behind.
“
Ah, Patrick,
”
she moaned,
“
if the sea should open up and swallow me, I wouldn’t mind.
”

Patrick patted her arm.
“
But you were feeling so fine.
”

“
That was an hour ago,
”
she gasped,
“
in Ringsend, before we sailed.
”
Another attack of nausea struck her. She bent nearly double over the bulwark, stomach wrenching as she heartily wished she were dead. Up to now, she had, to her surprise, enjoyed the journey immensely. Last night they had stayed at The Raven Inn at Athlone, which she’d found to be much more comfortable than expected. The rooms were clean, and the food! Oh, she shouldn’t think of food at a time like this, but she remembered how she and Patrick could hardly believe their eyes at sight of a table laden with boiled round of beef, roast loin of pork, peas, parsnips, a roast goose, a boiled leg of mutton, plum pudding and more. She had been hard-put to take dainty bites instead of stuffing her mouth. Patrick, though, was unencumbered by concern about good manners and how it would look in front of Lord Thomas. He dug with gusto into all that delicious, unaccustomed food which now, just the thought of it was making her even sicker than she already was. Not long after dinner, while a fiddler played lively Irish tunes, Patrick had fallen asleep at the table and Lord Thomas was obliged to carry him to bed. Thus far, she reflected, Timothy had been mistaken about Lord Thomas. Up to now, he had been most solicitous and kind. And when he said goodnight at the door to her room after putting Patrick to bed, he had been gracious but remote. It was as if that enthralling exchange of glances at the Whispering Arch never happened.
And it probably didn’t
, she mused darkly. It must have been all her imagination. How could she possibly think a man with as high a rank as Lord Thomas could have any personal interest in a poor Irish girl? Not that it mattered. She shivered in the cold, biting wind and drew her shawl closer about her. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her again.
Not that anything matters
.

Thomas arrived, having obtained a blanket from somewhere.
“
Here, let me wrap this around you
.
”
He
draped it around her shoulders.
“
Are you sure you don’t want to go below?
”

“
Mercy, no.
”
The very thought made her stomach heave again.
“
It’s so dark and confined and suffocating down there. It’s fresh air I’m wanting.
”

Patrick spoke up.
“
I guess the boat isn’t so enjoyable after all, is it, Evleen?
”

“
No it is not,
”
she gasped back, remembering—was it only a few hours ago?—how she had stood on the shore of the port of Ringsend and caught her first glimpse of The Countess of Liverpool rocking gently in the harbor. As she recalled, she remarked how eager she was to set sail across the Irish Sea. At the time, it had seemed like great fun—an exciting adventure.
Ha
. Little had she known.

“
What kind of boat is it?
”
Patrick asked, equally excited and eager as he looked across the water toward
The Countess of Liverpool
.

“
It’s a mailboat, cutter rigged,
”
Lord Thomas answered.
“
One hundred and five tons, a beam of nineteen feet or so, draught of ten feet six inches, mast of sixty-eight feet. Very strongly built.
”

“
There’s a comfort,
”
she lightly remarked, impressed by Lord Thomas’s broad knowledge of ships. In fact, what didn’t he know?

Well, he hadn’t known she was going to get deathly sick on the Holyhead packet, she thought morosely as another wave of nausea hit her. How could anything be left? But, alas, there was. To her chagrin, and utter humiliation, she realized Lord Thomas was holding her, gently rubbing her back as she hung over the side. She managed,
“
I feel so embarrassed I could die.
”

“
But you won’t,
”
he replied, all matter-of-fact, as if he saw young ladies toss their breakfast every day.

“
I
...”
A wave of dizziness overcame her. Little black dots started dancing before her eyes. She felt herself start to sink, but then a strong arm went around her from behind and with the other, he half-lead, half-supported her across the pitching, rolling deck.

“
Patrick, get the blanket where it’s dragging,
”
she heard him say.

“
What shall you do with her?
”
she heard her brother ask.

“
Get her out of the wind. There’s a sheltered spot on the poop deck aft, since she does not deign to go below.
”

She felt an urge to snap,
of course I don’t want to be in that awful, smelly hold
, but could not sum up enough energy even to open her eyes, let alone her mouth. Gradually, she felt warmer. There was no cutting wind anymore. When she finally raised her eyelids, she found he’d brought her to a sheltered part of the ship and set her upon—she glanced down—it was a hollow coil of line he’d place her on. Not only was it holding her in place, it was much softer than the hardwood of the deck. Thomas knelt in front of her, still half-holding her in his arms.
“
Feeling better?
”
he asked, then glanced up at Patrick, who looked deeply concerned.
“
Run get some water, lad. And stop worrying, your sister will be fine.
”

“
Will I?
”
she weakly asked.

“
You’ve had a bad case of the seasickness, but of course you’ll survive.
”

“
I’m not sure I want to,
”
she said, managing a very small smile.

She struggled to stand, but he felt her fast.
“
Don’t try it.
”

“
I don’t want to trouble you.
”

“
You’re no trouble.
”
He smiled.
“
This way I can hold you in my arms and everyone will think I am but a good Samaritan.
”