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Briana. Ruth Langan
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“Free? What do you mean, my lady?” Cora asked.
“I am free of the confining rules and restrictions of the convent.”
“You are not going back?”
“Nay. I was heading home when we were attacked. And now, for the first time, I realize just how much I have survived, thanks to Lord Alcott. Not only the attack by the English soldiers, but the last threat to my freedom. You see, as soon as I am strong enough, I will be returning home, to my beloved Ballinarin.”
“You’re certain she said she is not a nun?” Vinson stood in the shadows of the hallway, his voice low.
“That is what she just told us.” The housekeeper’s eyes were shining. “You saw how obsessed he was with her. She could be the answer to our prayers.”
The old man shrugged. “Maybe. But you say she is eager to return to her home.”
“Aye. But she is far too weak to attempt the journey yet. It could be weeks, months even, before she could endure it.” Mistress Malloy lowered her voice. “She seems a lovely, simple lass. I see no harm in throwing them together and seeing what transpires.”
“This is a dangerous game we play with other people’s lives.”
“Aye. But there’s so little time. You said yourself he plans to leave. And he is our last, our only hope.”
Vinson stared off into space, mulling it over. Then he nodded. “Leave it to me. I’ll think of a way.”
“My lord.”
Keane looked up from the ledgers and was surprised to see the evening shadows outside the window. Where had the day gone?
“Aye, Vinson.”
“The lass felt strong enough to bathe.”
Keane nodded. “A good sign.”
“Aye, my lord. Very soon now, she will be well enough to leave.”
“So it would seem.” He had won the battle. The patient was not only alive, but growing stronger with each day. He took a certain amount of pleasure in the knowledge that he had played a small part in her survival. There’d been so little in his life to be proud of.
Vinson cleared his throat.
Keane tensed, waiting for the old man to say what was on his mind. He was eager to return his attention to the ledgers.
“I thought, since the lass is strong enough to bathe, you might wish to invite her to sup with you.”
Keane frowned. “I’m certain she’d prefer to eat in her chambers.”
“She has not left her room in a fortnight, my lord. The change might do her good.”
Keane pushed away from the desk and strode to the window. His voice lowered. “I think the lass dislikes being in my company.”
“Why do you think that, my lord?”
“Whenever I am near her, she watches me the way prey might watch a hunter.”
“You can hardly blame her. She was, after all, nearly killed here on your land.”
Keane’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not her enemy. If she doesn’t know that now, after all I’ve done to save her, she never will.”
“It could be because of the horror of what she suffered, my lord.”
Keane nodded. “There is that, of course.”
“Or she could be shy, my lord. She is, after all, a lass educated in the convent.”
“Aye.”
The old servant decided to poke and prod a bit more. “You might find it pleasant to have someone with whom you could talk about the books you’ve read, the places you’ve been. She might prove to be an interesting companion, something in short supply here in Carrick.”
Keane stared out the window, seeing nothing. Neither the green rolling hills, nor the flocks undulating across the valley, nor the way the sunset turned the cross atop the chapel to blood. All he saw was the emptiness, stretching out before him. Endless emptiness.
“She has nothing to wear. I doubt she would sup with me wearing a borrowed nightshift.”
Vinson smiled. He’d anticipated the problem. “There are your mother’s trunks. Mistress Malloy could no doubt find something that would fit the lass.”
Keane turned and met the old man’s look. “You’ve put a good deal of thought into this, haven’t you, Vinson?”
“Aye, my lord.” The old man remained ramrod straight. Not a hint of a smile touched his lips. “The lass needs a chance to properly thank her benefactor.”
Keane gave the slightest nod of his head. “All right. Invite her to sup with me. And tell Mistress Malloy to rifle through the trunks for something appropriate.” As the old man turned away he added, “Suggest that she find something modest. We wouldn’t want to scandalize such an innocent.”
“Aye, my lord.”
When the door closed behind the servant, Keane glanced at the portrait of his father staring down from the mantel, and beneath it, a set of crossed ancestral swords. The two symbols he most detested. Bloodline and misuse of power. Life and death.
He could still hear his father’s harsh tone, lecturing him on his weaknesses. “The man who puts the love of God, country or woman ahead of gold is a fool. For, in the end, gold is all that matters.”
He’d rebelled, determined to prove his father wrong. He’d have the rest of his life to regret it.
To occupy his mind, he returned to his ledgers. But as he bent over the page, he found himself thinking about the lass’s strange voice. And the way her lips looked whenever she smiled. Odd. He hadn’t felt this quickening of his heartbeat for a very long time. But it wasn’t the lass that caused it. It was merely loneliness. He’d kept himself locked away with his ledgers too long now. But they were all he had now, since he’d become a stranger in the land of his birth.
“This will do nicely, Cora.” The housekeeper held up a gown of pale lemon, which she had retrieved from the trunk in the tower room. Though it appeared to be far too big, it was the only one she’d found with a modest neckline. “Can you make it fit the lass?”
“I’ll do my best, Mistress Malloy.” Cora signalled for Briana to stand. Then she slid the gown over her head and began plying needle and thread, nipping and tucking, until the fabric began to mold to the shape of the slender body.
“Oh, my lady, this is lovely on you.” Cora tied the waist with a lace sash, then, because there were no boots to fit, added satin bed slippers.
“Now, if you’ll sit, I’ll do what I can with your hair.”
Briana did as she was told, closing her eyes as the little servant dressed her hair.
“Are you feeling weak, my lady?”
“Nay.” Briana gave a dreamy smile. “It’s just that these past hours have been so luxurious, I’m beginning to feel whole again.”
Cora stood back, admiring her handiwork. “Now if you’ll just step over here, my lady, you can see what I’m seeing.”
Leaning on Cora’s arm, Briana walked to the tall looking glass and stared in amazement.
“Oh, my.” She lifted a hand to her mouth. Words failed her.
Seeing her reaction,