The Legend of the Irish Castle (6 page)

“You never know if we might need some
extra energy,” Benny said with a smile.

The Aldens raced across the meadow
behind the castle, the drizzling rain making
the grass slippery. Violet tripped and fell
forward onto her knees.

Henry stopped and touched her elbow.
“Are you okay, Violet?”

She nodded and stood up, brushing off
her jeans. “Just a little muddy. Let’s keep
going.”

Just then they saw Fergus at the edge of
the property where the woods began. He
disappeared into the trees on the same path
the children had taken on their walk that
morning.

Jessie tried calling to him, but Fergus
was too far away to hear her. The children
crossed the meadow and followed him into
the woods.

“Erin thought he was coming to return my
book,” Jessie said, “but then why would he be
taking it into the woods?”

“And why does he have it in the first
place?” Benny said. “You’ve been going crazy
looking for it. Do you think he had it this
whole time?”

“I don’t know,” Jessie said, “but I need to
find out!”

The Aldens entered the woods just in time
to see Fergus reach the fork in the path they
had come to that morning. Earlier, they had
chosen to take the wider path, and that was
where they had seen the wolfhound. But
Fergus walked off down the other path, and
they followed him.

Because the path was so narrow, the children
had to walk single file, one behind the other.
Jessie led the way. The path curved around
some tall, old trees, and over a small bridge
that crossed a brook. Beyond the next stand of
trees, they came into a clearing. In the center
was a small cottage with a thatched roof, and
smoke coming out of the chimney. Fergus
went inside and closed the door behind him.

“Didn’t Erin tell us on our first day here
that Fergus used to live in a cottage in the
woods?” Henry asked.

Jessie nodded. “But I think someone else is
living here now.”

Violet pulled out her camera and snapped a
picture of the cottage.

As the children stood back away from
the house, wondering what to do, the Irish
wolfhound trotted up to greet them.

Violet put out her hand for the dog to sniff
it. He gave her fingers a lick and she giggled.
“Look how gentle you are,” she said to the
dog. “I can’t believe we were afraid of you!”

Jessie handed some of the treats to Violet
and Benny, then brushed her hands off on
her pants. The kids fed the treats to the dog
and he rolled onto his back so they could pet
his belly.

“Are you going to knock?” Henry said.

Jessie nodded. “I think I know who Fergus
is coming to see.” She walked up to the front
door of the cottage and knocked softly.

After a minute the door swung open and a
silver-haired old woman looked out.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello, I’m Jessie. And you must be Maeve
Rowe McCarron, the famous author!”

The woman looked surprised. “Yes, I am.
How did you know that?”

Jessie smiled at her siblings, and the other
Aldens understood what she had figured
out. The night before, when they had been
watching for the banshee through the
binoculars, Jessie had said she thought the
figure in the meadow looked familiar, but she
couldn’t say why. Then today when they were
looking at the books in the library, Jessie had
remembered that her copy of the fairy book
had a picture of the author on the dust jacket.
And her face was the same as the one Jessie
had seen through the binoculars. Maeve
Rowe McCarron was the woman they had
seen walking at night, and the wolfhound was
the one making the wailing sound.

“I
knew
there had to be another explanation,”
Henry said. “Because banshees are
only in stories—they aren’t real!”

Benny nodded, looking relieved to finally
have an answer. Of course, the Aldens still
didn’t know why a famous author would be
walking around in the woods.

Mrs. McCarron smiled. “Jessie, my friend
Fergus brought me your book so I could sign
it for you. Won’t you please come inside and
get warm by the fire?”

T
he Aldens entered the small cottage and
stood beside the stone fireplace as they waited
for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Mrs.
McCarron invited them to sit in the chairs
and on the sofa, and offered them tea from
her flowered porcelain pot.

Fergus sat on the far side of the sofa with
his brown hat on his lap. His surprise at
seeing the children turned to embarrassment
when he saw Jessie looking at the book on the
coffee table.

“Welcome,” Fergus said, looking sheepish.
“I know you probably won’t believe this, but I
really am glad you are here.”

“We weren’t trying to sneak up on you,”
Henry said, “I promise.”

Benny nodded. “We tried to call to let
you know we were in the meadow, but you
couldn’t hear us.”

“That’s all right,” Fergus said. “We got
off on the wrong foot. I have been keeping a
secret all the time you’ve been staying at the
castle, and I am afraid it has made me treat
you rudely.”

“This used to be your cottage?” Jessie
asked. She glanced around. A few cardboard
boxes sat in a line along the wall, and a stack
of dishes sat next to the hutch. It looked like
someone was still in the process of moving
in. The walls held framed pictures of a
family that included a man who looked like
Fergus, but younger.

Fergus nodded. “Yes, I lived here a long
time. Raised my daughters here, and after my
wife died, kept on living here by myself.”

Benny noticed a photograph of an Irish
wolfhound on one end table.

“And is that the same dog we saw outside?”
Benny asked. He pointed to the picture.

Fergus smiled. “Yes, that’s Tully. She’s just
like another member of the family to me.”

“We have a dog like that too,” Violet said
softly. “His name is Watch.” Violet had
noticed that when Fergus talked about Tully,
his face softened. She had always believed
that caring about animals brought out the
best in people.

Fergus continued. “But a month ago I
moved up to the castle so Mrs. McCarron
could move in.”

“Because you always help her make sure she
gets her writing done,” Jessie said with a smile.
“Isn’t that right?” She was remembering the
inscription inside the book they had found in
the library.

“Yes, it is,” Fergus said, surprised. “Mrs.
McCarron has always been a good friend to
my family. I read her books to my daughters
when they were small, and we all admire her
very much. She has accomplished so much
with her writing, but now she has become
so famous that people in Dublin won’t leave
her alone.”

“It makes me so happy that readers have
enjoyed my books,” Mrs. McCarron said as
she poured more tea. “But I’ve had an awful
time getting any more of them written. The
newspaper printed the address of my flat, and
people were coming over all the time ringing
my doorbell, and calling me on the phone.
Then I tried working in a coffee shop near
where I live, and in the public library, but
people interrupted me there too. I knew I had
to find another place to work.”

“And around the same time,” Fergus said,
“Erin was needing more help at the castle. I
knew I could move into a room there, and
give Mrs. McCarron some much-needed
peace and quiet to write.”

“But you couldn’t tell Erin about that,
could you?” Henry asked. “She wouldn’t tell
anyone on purpose, of course, but if she let
the information slip, her guests might be
knocking on the cottage door too!”

“Exactly,” Fergus said. “And I couldn’t let
you stumble upon Mrs. McCarron either.
Which is why I was so grouchy anytime you
asked questions or talked about exploring the
grounds. I apologize for that.”

“That’s okay, Fergus,” Benny said. “And I
apologize for putting my shoes on the table!”

Everyone laughed.

“I didn’t make things easy on poor Fergus,”
Mrs. McCarron said, patting his knee. “A
good guest would have stayed home and
worked in the evening, but I am a night owl
and like to get out for fresh air, even though
I was risking being seen.”

“You
were
seen—by us!” Jessie said. “Only…
we thought you might be a banshee.”

“A banshee!” Mrs. McCarron said. At first
she laughed, but then she turned serious. As
an author of a book on Irish fairy creatures,
she knew more about banshees than anyone
in the room. “Oh, my. I hope you haven’t
been worrying your host at the castle with
talk of a banshee.”

“Because of the bad luck?” Benny asked,
thinking again of his shoes.

“Well, it’s more than just bad luck,” Mrs.
McCarron said. “Banshees are just characters
in myths that help tell the history of our
country. But some people continue to believe
in them. They say that banshees foretell a
death in the family, particularly the death of
someone far away. It can be very upsetting to
think about.”

Violet put her hand to her mouth. “I just
thought of something. Poor Erin—I think
she has been worrying about someone, and
we’ve probably made it worse by telling her
we thought we saw the banshee.”

Henry looked at Violet. “You’re right. The
man in the photograph in the library.”

Fergus nodded. “Probably so. You asked
whether that was Erin’s father, but he’s
actually Erin’s older brother Declan. They
haven’t spoken in five years, since a very
bad argument they had over how to run the
business. They inherited the hotel from their
father, and he put Erin in charge because she
had a degree in business, while Declan had not
finished college. Declan thought that wasn’t
fair because he was the older child. Anyway,
they never could resolve their differences, and
he went away angry and never came back.”

“How sad,” Jessie said. “And Erin has been
doing things that made us wonder whether
she is expecting anyone. Is there any chance
that Declan could be coming to the castle?”

Fergus thought for a moment, then shook
his head. “He has been gone for such a long
time. I doubt that he would turn up now. But
maybe Erin finally realizes how much she
misses him.”

“And maybe all this banshee talk has poor
Erin worried,” Mrs. McCarron said. “We
should go up to the castle now and explain
that the ‘banshee’ is just Fergus’s friend—an
old woman who likes to take walks at night!”

“I agree,” Fergus said, standing up. “Erin
deserves to have the whole story.”

So the Aldens, Fergus, and Mrs. McCarron
set out back down the path to the castle.
Tully trotted alongside them, occasionally
darting off into the brush to chase a rabbit
or chipmunk.

“Tully knows it’s almost suppertime,”
Fergus laughed. “If I don’t feed her some
dog food soon, she might make a dinner out
of a rabbit!”

The group picked up its pace. As they
approached the castle, they saw a car parked
at the far end of the lane, near the road
where the Aldens had picked the lilacs the
day before. It wasn’t the Davisons’ yellow
convertible, and it wasn’t Erin’s van either.

“Well, now I have seen it all,” Fergus said
under his breath. “I think that’s Declan’s car!”

A man with red hair a few shades darker
than Erin’s got out of the car and started
walking up the lane.

“That’s definitely him!” Fergus said.

When Declan got closer to the castle, he
stopped and put his hands in his pockets. He
seemed to be considering something. Then he
shook his head and abruptly turned around,
stalking back to his car.

“He’s not going inside!” Benny said. “He’s
too scared that Erin won’t forgive him!”

Fergus put his hands up to his mouth and
shouted, “Declan!” But the wind was blowing
in the wrong direction and Declan couldn’t
hear him.

Violet broke into a run. “Come on! We
have to keep him from leaving!”