Rescuing Mr. Gracey (47 page)

“Aye. I believe I will be taking care of politics this day.”

Joseph’s blue eyes locked on Alec’s. “May I leave you with a wee bit of wisdom from an old fool?”

Alec nodded, a slight smile upon his mouth.

“I’m thinking your heart and eyes are fighting each other right now, but sometimes your eyes are not good judges. Gauge truth with your heart, and you’ll find your way.” Waving, he kicked the horse and called back, “May the Good Lord always take a liking to you.”

Alec stared after the disappearing man for a long moment. What did he mean? Ruffling his hair, he closed weary eyes. For months, his every thought had been about seeing to Mary’s needs and happiness while juggling two lives and too many lies.

Now, she was gone. The vacancy left him hollow.

Suddenly, pounding horses appeared around the corner and hurtled toward him. Hurrying to the other side of the road, he barely avoided a collision with the Newcastle coach.

Alec shouted at the carelessness of the driver, but his angry words stopped at mid-sentence. Flashes of memory, tickles of time…early spring, a dancing angel, the lake.

His gaze shifted toward the forest. Sweet memory lingered there, but could he bear to enter? He sighed, powerless to do otherwise. Ringo carried him through the forest, onto the path, across the bridge, and down the small embankment.

He dismounted at the water’s edge. Crouching, he played his fingers in the lake’s cool water as emotions tumbled, a waterfall of precious moments combined with the ache of loss. Arms stretched upon bent knees, he lowered his head between his shoulders and closed his eyes. Scents, smiles, wide aqua eyes swirled over his heart. He barely breathed, the pain so intense.

He considered the last time with Mary, slumped in front of the tabernacle, thinking she might be dead. Had it been so, he wondered if his shattered heart would have pumped long enough to exit the burning building.

Yet God had granted her life. It had to be enough, to know she still lived. To know she inhaled and exhaled and smiled and laughed. No one could strip her from his memory, and that had to be enough.

A lump in his throat made him gasp. Exquisite happiness would never again visit his soul. He must be content to treasure her memory. Someday, perhaps, he would meet another and marry and have children. But for today, this had to be enough.

“Are ya mournin’ Mary?”

Alec startled, jumping to his feet. “Lily… I was…” He hung his head. “Aye.”

“Mary feels as ya do.”

Alec shook his head. “No. She’s to be Dennison’s wife.” He diverted his eyes to the lake, emotion overcoming him again.

Lily touched his arm lightly. “Sir… ’Tis a lie. Ya must know ’tis no’ true.”

Though frowning, Alec looked at her with confusion.

Lily nibbled her lip indecisively, then began searching through hedges. “I’m wonderin’ if ’tis still about…”

Alec folded his arms, watching the young woman walk about the brush, stooping here and there, lifting bits of paper and scraps of cloth.

“Ah…here ’tis.” She tugged at a bit of cloth until she freed it from the hedge. “See… ’Tis Mary’s cap. I saw James fling it. ’Twas Mr. James what forced Mary t’ give ya up.” Lily’s eyes widened as she looked inside the cap. “And I’ll wager this note will prove it.”

Confused, Alec waited while Lily offered the cap. “I don’ know how t’ read, but I’m thinkin’ ya do.”

Gathering the cap into his hands, he pulled a note from inside. He read it carefully, his expression changing from confusion to anxiety to elation. “What does this mean? I never wrote this.”

Lily rolled her eyes as if educated men were the stupid ones. “Don’ ya see, sir? He tricked her into comin’ here and then threatened to kill ya if she didn’t marry Sean.”

Holding the note, he shook his head. “She’s trying to protect me?”

The answer dawned upon him so unexpectedly that he lost his balance. A startled laugh escaped. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to heaven, shouting with joy. “She’s trying to protect me.”

Lifting Lily into the air, he twirled her round and round, saying, “Your heart is a better gauge than your eyes.”

~ 46 ~

“And we’ll christen this ‘King William’s Bridge’…”

“Lord Roden, a Mr. Alexander Gracey to see you.”

The earl smiled broadly and gave his nod for acceptance. The final icing on a wonderful cake. All had gone so beautifully, so perfectly a week ago. Exactly as hoped, the clashes had led to the destruction of most of the little village. His man planned on scooping up what remained of the huts and fields by the end of the month, and then the business of the messy Catholics would be done.

The only pleasant surprise had been the loss of Mr. Gracey in the election. The masses had turned against him, flooding the vote with anti-Orange sentiment. Wonderful turn of events considering the deception Gracey had tried to maneuver. Now, to strip that man and his father of any remaining arrogance…

Roden paced to his desk, sat, and folded his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror to his left and adjusted his expression to reflect firm disapproval—one that would terrify the ignorant tradesman.

The door opened, and he saw his butler, his face tight with worry. Roden jerked to his feet. “Lord Clarendon. So unexpected.” He swallowed. His gaze shifted, noting that both Gracey men hovered in the background and allowed the Lord Chancellor of Ireland to come forward.
Damn their little common hides. Have they invited that liberal here?
“Will you take a seat?”

“What have you done, Roden? In spite of the fact that I sent both the army and magistrates here to warn you to stay far from a rally, I find you are in the middle of it…no…the instigator.” The elderly man’s cheeks heightened with a red blush, his stiff back and balled hands all foreboding signs of trouble. “Do you know there were seven innocents murdered by the Orange, countless homes burned, crops destroyed? And every single account lays all the blame upon the Orange.”

“My lord. That is a bald-faced lie. The Ribbonmen began shooting and…”

“Stop. I have miles of testimony already. Your support of the Orange’s destruction will be your legacy, Robert. I will see to it.”

“Sir. You have listened to the wrong authorities. This is nothing less than an attempt to dirty the name of Protestant loyalists.”

“No, Lord Roden. You have already accomplished that.” Clarendon waved away any further attempt at defense. “I have appointed a special magistrate to investigate the entire bloody affair. I will be recommending that you be stripped of all your special titles and responsibilities. If I had my way, I would bring you up for murder too.”

Roden plopped down into his chair, his throat strangled of a retort. With a bitter grimace, the chancellor walked out of the mansion as quickly as he’d entered.

Alec waited a moment, then stepped to the desk. Leaning upon its wood, he lowered his voice. “James Bender was the man who gave miles of testimony in conjunction with my own. I have lots of other sources too, milord, so expect to feel the full impact of the queen’s disapproval.” He smiled. “By the way, you will not find Bender. He has been transported to Australia. He will be serving a life sentence for attempted murder, sedition, and destruction of property.” Alec started to exit but called back one last word. “Checkmate.”

~ 47 ~

“And cry ‘Dolly’s Brae no more.’”

“Mary…ya got t’ come wi’ me. ’Tis most urgent,” Lily said for the fifth time.

Mary straightened from the barrel of apples. “Is someone hurt?”

Lily shuffled uncomfortably. She had been acting so strange. “Ummm, no. But I’m needin’ ta talk wi’ ya.”

Mary tossed a look back at her mother. All the neighbors were gathered in front of the three wagons filled with food, clothing, and blankets donated by the people of Castlewellan.

The Graceys headed up the donations after so many had been injured or lost loved ones, and the people from the town below, as appalled as the nation about the massacre, had responded to the need.

“Lily. Can’t it wait? We’ve got our hands full here.”

“Aye, and they will be full for another week or more.” Lily now blushed, and twisting her hands, she looked about again. “I’m needin’ yar help. Ya see…”
 

Seeing her friend clearly struggling with her need, Mary had pity and walked over to her.

“What is it, Lily? You can tell me.”

Leaning into her ear, she whispered, “I’m needin’ to bathe, and I want ya to help keep me safe.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open. Biting her lip, she tried not to laugh. Well, this was an emergency. “Very well, then,” she said. “Let me gather the soap and some clean clothes. I’ll join you.”

Lily’s face now reflected joy. “Aye. Grand.”

Waving to her mother, Mary joined her friend and trekked toward the private lake inside the forest. It had been over a week since the massacre, and word was the Earl of Roden had retreated to Dublin to try to plead his innocence. This seemed as good a time as any to use his lake.

Lily nearly skipped down the path. “What has you so excited about bathing?” Mary asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this way before.”

Lily jolted to a stop. “Well, ummm. Ya see, me little finger has a tingle.” She held up her hand and wiggled the finger. “And ya know what that means. I’m tinkin’ Tim may be ready to court, and all I need is a bath. Ya always says I need one.” She pulled Mary’s arm, urging her forward at a fast pace. “I just want to get it done so I won’t be changin’ me mind.”

Lily now rushed ahead over the bridge, disappearing from Mary’s view altogether. Nervously, she called out but heard no reply.

Carefully climbing down the embankment, Mary glanced apprehensively to the left and to the right. “Lily…this isn’t funny. Where are you?”

She froze. A blanket lay in front of the lake, a picnic basket next to it.

His deep voice from behind startled her. “She left. I hope you are not angry.”

Mary stifled a scream as she spun about and faced Alec Gracey. Resting her hand upon her thudding heart, she tried to calm herself enough to breathe. She did not want a confrontation with this man. He looked so strong, so handsome, so striking
.
Her only defense was to pretend indignation.

“I have been impatient for this moment, Mary. But first I needed to make assurances that you were safe. James is in jail. The earl has to answer to Parliament. I lost the election but have worked behind the scenes and am satisfied with the results.” He smiled. “And now, it is time for me and you. I talked with Father Mooney this morning about our marriage.”

“Ya know I’m about to be married to Sean.” Her mouth full of cotton, Mary tried to wet her lips.

His mouth stretched to the most enticing smile. He leaned closer. “I don’t think that will be happening.”

Her eyes widened as he brought his arms about her waist and drew her close to him. “Sir. Are ya sayin’ ya think…”

He ran a finger over her lips and whispered, “I have been to hell. ’Tis a desolate place where agony never ends and fear lives forever. It is tears and loneliness that echo in every room. It is pain that sears the soul and weakens the body until even lifting your eyes is too much of an effort. It is anywhere that you are not in my life.”

His finger slowly, deliberately, memorized a sensuous path, tracing her chin, cheeks, eyes, lips. She trembled, yearning…dreading. The spicy, clean smell of him tantalized her senses as his comforting strength warmed her trembling arms. Locked somewhere between fear and hope, she wondered whether she would ever breathe again. Her knowledge rebelled against her body’s desire.
No.
She must be strong
. For love of Gracey, you cannot give in.

As if hearing her thoughts, he murmured, “Yes. Sweet, precious Mary. Yes.” His hands enclosed her face, forcing her to look at him. And she shivered with want, but…
I cannot have him… God help me. I must pull away…

Mary swallowed tears that threatened to drown her.

His raspy voice was filled with desperate emotion. “Mary,” he whispered urgently. “Mary.” His lips feathered her cheek, down her throat, back up to her hair. “I have been to heaven. It smells of roses and feels of soft rain on dimpled cheeks. It has sparkling blue-green eyes and a lilting Irish temper. It is tender and giving and humorous.” His remarkable eyes locked with hers. “I will never allow anyone to force me away again, for I belong there. My ragged heart will cease beating before I let you go again.”

He heaved a sigh and whispered, “I love you…forever.”

She cried out from the sharp pain in her chest. “But…I’m to be married…”

Urgently, he nodded. “Aye.” He captured her mouth, a blissful combination of tender and confident. Her hesitant fingers fluttered upon his chest. He urged her closer. She surrendered. Her hands followed a hungry path up his chest, to his shoulders, around his neck. Her fingers wove into soft, curly waves. Grateful tears escaped from her closed eyes.

Home. She was home.

He broke from the kiss, his breath coming in gasps. “Aye, Mary Smyth. You are to be married. You are to be Mrs. Alexander Gracey III and raise a family and make love to your husband every day. We may have to emigrate, but I’ve money enough for your whole family if you wish.” He kissed away each tear. “Either way, we will never be without the other again.”