Laurel McKee Page 23

  “I suppose I’ve known it for a while,” she said. It was just that their surroundings now seemed particularly dreamlike and unreal. Like a nightmare come to life.

  The rebels had taken them to a deserted manor house where, as far as Eliza could tell, they were meant to meet with another group who had not yet appeared. The only people who waited for them were two hard-faced men who seemed to look none too kindly on Eliza and her family. Now, as it passed midnight, they all waited together in the small drawing room, the only sound the snap of flames in the grate, the whispers of the rebels as they knelt by the fire.

  A little dried-out bread and a few bottles of brandy seemed to be the only provisions in the house, and the rebels made use of both. The bottles seemed to be getting steadily lower, the murmurs angrier. And as the whispers grew harsher, the atmosphere became more tense as the moments ticked onward.

  Eliza especially did not like the way the two new men, who hovered in the doorway like guards, watched them. Their eyes glittered with suspicion.

  She tugged her cap lower over her brow and stared at the floor. Will sat next to her on the settee, and she could feel the coiled tautness of his muscles. Under the folds of her long coat, he touched her hand, as if trying to reassure her, but she still feared she might scream and leap up from her seat. As if she could run, as if there was anyplace to escape to. She had been lucky to hide the guns in her sack before Will left the cart in the shelter beside the house.

  Eliza glanced at Anna, who lay on a chaise near the half-open window, away from the smoke of the fire. Her eyes were closed, her hair tumbling loose from her cap, and she did look convincingly pale. But her fingers were tense where they lay against her skirt. Katherine hovered over her watchfully, and Caroline observed the whole scene in thoughtful silence. Perhaps she thought to write it down in her history of Ireland someday.

  If they ever got away, that was. If they could keep Will’s identity secret.

  Eliza sneaked a glance at the men in the doorway again, only to find that one of them watched her very closely. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and she hastily looked away again.

  “What’s wrong with that boy there?” he muttered to his companion, pointing at Eliza.

  “Molly says she thinks he’s a mute,” the other man said. “He hasn’t said a word at all; he doesn’t even seem to know what’s going on around him, poor idiot.”

  Eliza felt the burn of the man’s stare on her skin. She tried to be like Anna, to summon up her acting skills and pretend not to notice.

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “The way they just brought these people into our hiding place—they could be anyone at all.”

  “Oh, Bill, surely they’re harmless! Just some poor refugees like everyone else. Isn’t that the point of fighting? To help such people?”

  Before Eliza could eavesdrop on them any further, the man who was their rescuer suddenly knelt down by Anna’s chaise, distracting her. He held out a bottle of brandy, his gaze still full of infatuation as he looked at Anna. The woman Molly glared at them from beside the fire.

  “Maybe something to drink would help revive her,” he said.

  “How kind you are to my poor girl,” Katherine said, sliding the bottle from his hand. She pretended to take a sip from it. “ ’Tis fine stuff.”

  “No rough homemade whiskey here,” he answered. “A fine girl like this shouldn’t ever taste such rubbish. It’s sad she’s so ill.”

  Katherine sighed. “It is sad. She’s always been delicate, but so sweet. I fear all this turmoil has only made her illness worse.”

  Anna moaned softly, turning her face to the window.

  “The fire is too warm for her,” Katherine said.

  “Perhaps she should lie down in one of the chambers upstairs,” the man said. “ ’Tis cool and quiet there.” He glanced toward Molly, who still glared at them. “No one will bother her there; I promise you.”

  Anna’s fingers tightened on her skirt. Katherine covered her daughter’s tense hand with her own. “What a good thought,” she said quickly. “My son will carry her upstairs.”

  Will took the hint, leaping up to gather Anna into his arms before the rebel could do the same. Wincing only the merest amount, he carried her past the two men in the doorway, Katherine and Caroline close behind them. Eliza followed, trying to remember to appear empty-headed. The sharp-eyed man watched their progress up the narrow staircase.

  Katherine opened the first door on the landing and found a small bedchamber. Moonlight streamed through the small window, illuminating a rumpled bed, open doors on an empty wardrobe, and a dressing table in disarray. It appeared the house’s occupants left in a great hurry, but there were candles on the table.

  “Put her in here,” Katherine said. “We can surely sit here and wait until all is quiet.”

  “Better than having everyone stare at us like exhibits in a menagerie,” Caroline muttered.

  As Will laid Anna on the bed and Katherine lit the candles, Eliza heard a sudden commotion downstairs. Keeping carefully to the shadows, she peered over the balustrade to the foyer below.

  It seemed the new people had arrived at last. A group of about eight men, dressed in threadbare clothes and green armbands like the others, poured through the door. They carried several crates with them.

  The tense silence cracked at their appearance. “We thought you’d been captured!” Anna’s admirer called.

  “We’re too wily for that,” one of the newcomers answered, putting down the crates on the dusty floor. “But when we found this stashed in the woods, we knew we couldn’t leave without it.”

  “What is it?” Molly asked.

  “Just this.” One of the men pried off the top from a crate, revealing piles of ammunition. Eliza almost gasped, remembering how all of their shot was used up at the bridge. There were ten crates down there; surely they could spare just a bit and never miss it.

  If she could just find a way to borrow it without letting them know.

  “It’s beautiful,” Molly said, as if the crates were full of jewels and silks.

  “There’s food and blankets, too,” one of the men added. “Some patrol in a hurry had to leave them behind.”

  The sharp-eyed guard crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the stash. “They left them behind? As easy as that?”

  “Maybe not that easy, after all,” one of the other men said.

  “Eliza.” Will suddenly touched her arm, making her jump in surprise. She had been too wrapped up in what happened downstairs to pay attention to her own surroundings—a big mistake. Anything at all could be lurking around every corner.

  “You should come into the bedchamber now,” he muttered, “where they can’t see us.”

  “There is more of them now.” She gestured to the foyer, where a few of the men still examined the crates. Molly had led most of them back to the drawing room, where laughter and talk now floated free.

  “All the more reason to come in here,” Will said. “We’ll slip away as soon as it’s quiet.”

  Eliza cast one more longing glance at the crates. She had to find a way to steal some of that ammunition and perhaps discover more of what those people were doing. But one look at Will’s steely expression told her he would stop her from putting herself into even more danger. She nodded and followed him into the chamber. He closed the door behind them, shutting them into a quiet, stuffy, candlelit world.

  Anna sat up against the headboard of the bed, ready to slide down into a faint again if needed. “If I can’t marry a duke, perhaps I could turn to the stage,” she said. “I thought I did that quite well.”

  “You did very well, my dear,” said Katherine. “But I do hope we don’t have to call on your acting skills again any time soon. I’m quite sure my nerves could not bear it.”

  Eliza unlocked and pushed open the window, letting the night breeze into the warm room. The newcomers’ wagon stood just below, one of the men busy unharnessing the horses. How long would i
t be before they could sneak away?

  “I wish we had something to eat,” Caroline grumbled. “My stomach is quite empty.”

  “Perhaps there is some food left in the pantry,” said Eliza, turning away from the window. They shouldn’t go hungry, after all, if they all needed their strength to get away. She could surely find food and snatch some ammunition while she was at it. “I’ll slip down and see.”

  “No, I’ll go,” Will said. “You should all stay here.”

  “Of course not,” Eliza argued. “I am much more inconspicuous than you, a mute besides. They won’t even notice me.”

  Before he could protest, she hurried from the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. If he followed her now, he would only attract more attention. Once she was sure no one remained in the foyer, she tiptoed down the stairs. She turned not toward the drawing room, where voices still echoed, but to the stairs leading down to the kitchens. She would find Caroline some food, and if she happened to snag a bag of that shot while she was at it…

  She did find a few withered potatoes left in the pantry, as well as two bottles of cider that had been left behind in favor of the brandy. But as she tried to leave the dark, dusty kitchen, she was brought up short by heavy footsteps on the stairs and the sound of masculine conversation.

  Holding her breath, she ducked behind a cabinet, tucking her feet close under her.

  “You’re sure, then?” someone said. She thought it was the suspicious guard, but she couldn’t be sure. “Fitzgerald is dead?”

  Dead? Eliza’s hand tightened on the bottle she held. Oh, but surely there were many Fitzgeralds. It was not Edward. Yet he had been wounded and captured soon before she left Dublin. Everyone had been quite certain his powerful family could secure his release, but what if they were too late?

  She pressed herself tightly against the cabinet, biting her lip to hold back her fear, listening closely.

  “Very sure. We met a messenger coming from Dublin just yesterday,” another man said. “After he was shot, the bastards just threw him in Kilmainham Gaol, no doctor or anything. His aunt Lady Louisa Conolly finally persuaded the Lord Lieutenant to let her see him, but it was too late. They buried him in the middle of the night at St. Werburgh’s, thinking no one would notice.”

  “A sad day for our cause. He was a born leader. But we have to go forward! It’s what he would want.”

  There was a long silence, a rustling noise as if they rummaged in the pantry. At last they found what they sought and left the kitchen, still talking of Edward Fitzgerald and his sad sacrifice.

  Eliza drew her knees up to her forehead, closing her eyes tightly as she let the grief flow over her. Edward had been her friend, her comrade in the Irish cause. And now he was gone, senselessly murdered before he could see his beliefs made reality. What would become of his wife and children now, of everyone who depended on him?

  She remembered the night she took Will to the ceilidh, when they danced and sang “Cliffs of Doneen.” How very alive the world seemed that night, so vital with wondrous possibilities!

  Now Edward was dead, and she and her family were on the run. It was up to her, to all of them, to keep that dream of Ireland alive, however they could.

  She wiped at her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. If she didn’t return soon, surely Will would come looking for her no matter what the danger. She hurried out of the kitchen, clutching at her provisions as she listened for any sound.

  Everyone was in the drawing room talking of Edward Fitzgerald. Two of the crates still stood in the foyer, and she took the chance to scoop up two bags of shot. Any more might be missed, but two was better than none. Hopefully it would last them until they reached Dublin.

  She hid the bags inside her coat, running up the stairs before anyone decided to leave the drawing room.

  “I found some food,” she said, diving into the bedchamber. She smiled at them, hoping they could not see her damp eyes, the grief she pushed down deep inside. But Will stared at her closely, as if he could see something was amiss. He said nothing, though, and just took the potatoes and bottles from her arms. “Was it quiet downstairs yet?”

  “Not yet, but soon I think.”

  “We can leave after we eat, then. I think there’s some fuel in the fireplace still.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Eliza held up a candle, leading Will and her mother and sisters down the stairs. The tiny flame barely cast enough light to show them the way through the house, which was pitch-dark now in the predawn gloom, but it had to be enough. They dared not wake the people sleeping inside, or especially anyone who might be lurking outside. They had to be very far away before anyone realized at all.

  But it was too late. As she pulled back the door latch, a voice called out, “What’s this? Leaving, are you?”

  Eliza spun around to find the leader of the little rebel band, tousle-haired and bleary-eyed, standing in the dining room doorway. One of the women lurked behind him. The two of them might not be so very frightening, but the guns they held certainly were. There was little trace of the congenial companions of the night before.

  Without a word, Will swept Anna up into his arms. She drooped against him in a seeming faint, and he didn’t even wince as her head hit his wounded shoulder. Katherine slid in front of them, her face written with a barely repressed panic Eliza feared might not be entirely feigned.

  “We have to find a doctor now, no time to waste!” Katherine said with a sob in her voice.

  The man’s face softened, but the woman had no such sympathy. With an exclamation of disgust, she grabbed the pistol from his limp hand.

  “We’ll go with you,” she said, scowling at them. “There’s bound to be a doctor at Rossmore, and we’re supposed to meet up with the rest of our friends there anyway.”

  “We’re sure you must have… other things to look after now,” Katherine answered. “We’ve put you to so much trouble.”

  The woman gave her a bitter smile. “ ’Tis no trouble, not for friends. Not for fellow Irishmen.”

  Eliza exchanged a long glance at Will. Was this some sort of a trap? But, then, what choice did they have but to go along even if it was a trap? Their guns were hidden in her sack, and she couldn’t risk a fight with her family so near anyway.

  We have to continue to play our roles, Will seemed to say. And hope we can get away from them soon.

  Eliza nodded and pulled back the heavy door. It was near daybreak now; the stars were fading overhead. Will laid Anna gently into the back of the waiting cart, which Will had prepared for them earlier, and she moaned to great effect.

  “I just hope it’s not too late,” Katherine fretted, climbing up beside her and pulling Caroline with her.

  Will swung onto the seat, gathering up the reins as Eliza took her place beside him. The others tumbled out the door, looking as if they would relish a fight despite the restless night behind them. The waning moonlight glinted on the metal pikes they brandished.

  “So we go with them to Rossmore?” Eliza whispered to Will. “What then?”

  “I’m sure they’ll soon find other distractions in a town, and we can go our own way.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Think of it as a scenic detour.”

  “I think I prefer the direct route,” she muttered.

  Will smiled, setting the tired horses into motion. It was a slow progress as the sun crept up over the horizon, spreading burned-yellow light and burning away the cool night. It would be another hot summer day.

  Their escort was quieter today, quarrelsome among themselves, but somehow that only made them more fearsome. What were they planning? What could possibly happen next on this surreal journey?

  There were few signs of life along the rutted, dusty road. Trees were cut down; stone walls enclosing fields chipped away, their rocks and mortar taken; grain crops unharvested and going to waste. There weren’t even any cows grazing in those dry fields or smoke curling from distant chimneys. It was a deserted land, far too quiet fo
r her peace of mind.

  Or for Will’s, either, it seemed. His narrowed gaze was constantly moving, taking in every detail of their surroundings. His jaw tightened at every sound.

  Eliza longed to scream, to break the tension building inside of her however she could. Will seemed to know how she felt. As he flicked the reins, his hand brushed secretly against hers, a warm, reassuring touch. “Battle itself is never worse than waiting,” he said. “We’ll be rid of them soon and on our way to Dublin again.”

  Perhaps they would—but then what would happen? She smiled at Will, trying to hide her worries, and twisted around to check on her sisters. Katherine held Anna’s head on her lap, slowly smoothing back her daughter’s golden hair as Caroline stared out at the countryside.

  Eliza felt a protective rush of emotion and a strange sense of pride. They were strong, her mother and sisters, far stronger than she had given them credit for. She would never underestimate her family again.

  Will drew the cart to a halt at the crest of a hill, and Eliza turned to face forward again. The town of Rossmore lay just ahead, but it was not the sleepy village she remembered. It was now surrounded by a hastily built, rough wooden wall and a shallow trench. Soldiers guarded the closed gates, far more of them than a place like Rossmore surely required.

  “What do you think is happening there?” Eliza asked. “I would have thought it would be half-deserted, like all the other towns, not fortified like an armed camp.”

  “I have no idea,” Will answered, frowning as he took in the heavily armed guards, the walls. “It seems the government is preparing to take back County Kildare.”

  “From here?”

  “We’re very near the county border. Where better to store their weapons and gather troops.” He slammed his fist down on the seat. “Damn it, Eliza, we never should have come here!”

  “You could not have known. This must have happened very fast.”

  “I should have known. We should have kept to our plan to avoid towns.”