A Love for All Time (87 page)

“Wait, m’lady,” said Nan. “If I take this sheet, I can make a harness for ye to tuck the bairn into, and then yer hands will be free, and ye’ll need them free on this path.” Aidan nodded, and Nan swiftly fashioned the harness, and tucked the baby safely inside next to her mother’s warm body, and away from the wind and rain.

Then Cluny and Mark leading the way, the two women between them, set off toward the coast along the rocky track that served as a road for the region. The storm had not abated one bit, and now seemed to Aidan, to be growing even stronger. The rain came down in sheets, making it almost impossible to see more than a few inches ahead of them; and the strong wind blew so hard that they had a difficult time keeping on their feet. Had the gale been any stronger they would not have been able to make any headway at all. They walked in a perpetual gloom that was neither quite night or day it being midsummer when there was only a short period of dark.

Aidan had no fears of their losing their way for as long as they kept to the path they were safe. After they had walked in silence for some time she moved up next to Cluny, and said, “Who is this Lord Glin?”

“His mother was the heiress to Glinshannon. She ran away with some English milord when she was fifteen, and her father disinherited her, but when the old man died it was discovered he had left everything to his daughter’s eldest son, the catch being that the lad had to come and live in Ireland. Well, to everyone’s surprise he did, turning over his future inheritance from his father to his next brother.”

“How old a man is he?”

“Not too old, not too young I was told.”

Aidan laughed. “That tells me little,” she said.

“I know no more than ye, m’lady, but for this. Though he took his Irish inheritance, Lord Glin is a queen’s man to his fingertips.”

“Well, if we must seek shelter with him, I’d as soon he were a queen’s man,” Aidan said frankly. “I hope, however, that we can meet up with Conn before I must throw myself upon anyone else’s mercy. The FitzGeralds want my wealth, Cluny, and my killing Cavan FitzGerald is not apt to deter them in their quest. Only Conn can do that, I believe.”

“Then we had best pray that he get here soon, hadn’t we, m’lady? When that old robber, yer grandsire, learns what ye’ve done to his nephew, there’ll be hell to pay, and that’s for certain. There’s only one place ye can seek shelter in this region, and he’ll be coming after ye at Glinshannon castle by midmorning tomorrow. Still if Lord Glin is a queen’s man, it is not likely that he will turn ye over to the old man without a fair hearing.”

“Conn will get here,” she said, and despite the seriousness of their situation he heard laughter in her voice. “Does he not always rescue me, Cluny? Conn will get here, I know!”

H
enry Sturminster, Lord Glin, looked with curious eyes upon the party of six who sought refuge in his castle. There were four men, servants his trained eye told him. Two women, one again of the servant class; and a tall, bedraggled woman with fine features, and an air of command who intrigued him.

“I am Aidan St. Michael, Lady Bliss,” she told him. “I need shelter for my servants, my child and myself.”

“Ye came on foot I am told,” Lord Glin drawled. “Where are yer horses?”

“At Ballycoille,” said Aidan honestly.

“Ballycoille?
Rogan FitzGerald’s Ballycoille? What the hell were ye doing with that old devil?”

“The old devil is, to my mortification, my grandsire,” she answered him, “and before I launch into this tale of mine I need to know if ye will shelter us from not only the storm,
but
from the FitzGeralds? If not, my lord, we will go. My husband is on his way from England right now to aid me.”

Lord Glin was a handsome man with soft blond hair that had the habit of falling over his forehead, and amber-brown eyes. He now looked closely at Aidan, and for some reason that he himself could not fathom he decided to offer his protection. “I will be delighted to tender ye my hospitality, madame, and ye may rest safe that I would put nothing willingly into Rogan FitzGerald’s hand, least of all a gentlewoman and her party.” He signaled his servants. “Take Lady Bliss, and her people to their rooms,” he said. Then taking Aidan’s hand up, he kissed it gallantly. “When ye are more comfortable, madame, we will discuss yer predicament.”

Aidan saw her men led off in the direction of what she suspected was the kitchens while she and Nan followed a serving wench up a broad staircase, down a wide hallway and into a gracious apartment. They were quickly surrounded by a bevy of serving women who taking the baby from its mother then set about to make the two women comfortable. A hot bath was brought for Aidan, and she almost cried with joy at its sight. It had been some days since she had been able to bathe. When she finished she was offered a comfortable and warm dark blue velvet dressing gown which she gratefully put on, surprised at its fit which was a good one. Nan had been treated equally well, and she and the baby were nicely settled in a small room with a blazing fire just off the main chamber of the apartment.

The castle’s housekeeper, a dour-looking woman garbed entirely in proper black came to Aidan and said, “His lordship would like to know if ye would allow him to take the morning meal with ye, m’lady.”

“Please tell Lord Glin that I should be delighted to receive him,” Aidan returned. She was feeling so much better now that she was warm and dry, and particularly now that there were several miles, and a strong stone castle between her and the FitzGeralds.

The castle’s staff hurried about the salon of the guest apartment, and within a very short time the table was laid, and set for two. Aidan admired the heavy damask cloth that covered the oak board as well as the beautiful silver candlesticks with their pure beeswax tapers that burned with virtually no smoke at all. She raised her eyebrows somewhat in surprise as the servants placed gold plates, eating utensils, and exquisite gold goblets studded with green agate upon the table. It had not occurred to her that in such an isolated place as Glinshannon she would find such elegance. Not after her grandfather’s paltry board which was little better than a peasant’s.

She was halted in her thoughts by the arrival of Lord Glin, and taking a really good look at her host, Aidan thought that he was quite attractive. Although his face was a long oval, there was a sweetness of expression about it that gave him an almost vulnerable look. Still she noticed that his servants treated him with a deep respect that she knew had to come from a genuine liking of the man. The people here showed no signs of fear as had her grandfather’s servants.

“Ye’ve been well taken care of?” he inquired of her as he took her hand and kissed it once more.

“As well as if I had been the queen herself,” Aidan replied with a smile.

Why she is pretty, thought Henry Sturminster, surprised as the smile lit Aidan’s whole features; and that halo of copper hair is simply breathtaking ! “If ye are well enough now,” he said, “I should like to hear the tale of how ye came to be seeking shelter from this storm, and why ye left yer horses at Ballycoille. Ye must admit that the situation is unusual, and quite frankly my curiosity is piqued.” He led her over to a comfortable settle by the fire, and they sat down together.

“I will tell ye the entire truth of the matter, my lord,” Aidan said, “but first I must have yer solemn word, yer oath really, that what I reveal to ye, ye will not reveal to anyone else. Parts of my tale are so shocking as to be almost unbelievable, but I swear to ye, sir, that all is true.”

Lord Glin ordered his servants from the room with the stern admonition that they were not to return unless called. Then taking one of Aidan’s hands in his he said, “I swear to ye upon the souls of my parents, may God assoil them, that I will reveal nothing ye tell me, Lady Bliss.” His kind brown eyes looked deeply into hers. “Will that do?”

Her gray eyes twinkled, and she smiled a tiny smile. “Thank ye, my lord. ’Twill do quite nicely, and so I will begin. When my father died three years ago it was written in his will that I should become the queen’s ward, and be wed at her discretion to a man who would in return for me and my vast fortune take my father’s name so that his family might live on through us. Thus it was that I was wed to Master Conn O’Malley, the youngest son of Dubhdara O’Malley of Innisfana. My husband had been in England for several years, was a member of the queen’s own personal guard, the Gentlemen Pensioners, and greatly in her majesty’s favor. We were wed by the queen’s own chaplain in her majesty’s presence in her chapel two years ago this St. Valentine’s Day past.

“On the queen’s orders we returned to my estates in Worcestershire which, by coincidence, border the estates of my husband’s sister and her husband, Lord de Marisco. In the months that followed Conn and I grew to love one another deeply. We were expecting a child. It was then that disaster, in the guise of a cousin, arrived from Ireland. His name was Cavan FitzGerald, and he came bearing tidings from my mother’s father, Rogan FitzGerald. Since my grandsire had never bothered to communicate with my mother since she had wed with my father, I found it unusual. Still it would have been inhospitable for us to refuse Cavan FitzGerald our hospitality.”

“I know the man,” said Lord Glin. “I can imagine he was wearing his best face, and showing his best manners, but I know for a fact that he is indeed the bastard he was born. I hope I do not offend ye with such blunt speech, madame, but ye do not appear to me to be a woman of vapors and false prudery.”

“Nay,” she said quietly, “I am not, but let me continue for this is a longish tale, and I am certain that ye are growing as hungry as I am.”

Henry Sturminster laughed, and nodded his agreement. “I also have a chef who comes to me from France, and is somewhat of a martinet given to tantrums. When he is ready, we must eat or risk offending him so that he will sulk for a full week during which time all my meals will be either burnt or undercooked!”

“God’s nightshirt, my lord, I should feel very guilty to subject so kind a host to such a fate!” and so she continued on with her story.

As her astounding narrative continued he realized fully her demand for his oath of silence. The entire account was as fantastic, as filled with drama, as if she had made it up. He was amazed that any gentlewoman could undergo such trauma, and survive. He was not even sure he would have believed her epic but for the fact her eyes never wavered from his own as she spoke. No one, Henry Sturminster decided, could lie that convincingly, and so he believed her although that belief was shaken somewhat when Aidan explained how she had killed Cavan FitzGerald. Nonetheless her obvious embarrassment again confirmed his trust in her as she spoke of the travesty of her
wedding
night.

“Good lord, madame,” he said when she had finished. “If I read such a tale I should be hard put to believe it, and yet I do believe ye. Still, their plans having been foiled, do ye really think that yer relations will come chasing after ye? The bird had flown their cage, and ye have certainly proven yerself a formidable opponent. If it were me, I do not believe I should want to tangle with ye again!”

Aidan shook her head. “Rogan FitzGerald seems determined to have my fortune although I do not understand why,” she said.

“I do,” said Lord Glin. “The old man has ever been mixed up in one plot or another to overthrow the queen’s own government. He sees himself as a savior of Ireland which I admit to finding rather amusing as he’s never been more than twenty miles from his holding in his entire life. If ye took him, and dropped him into the middle of the Kildare FitzGerald’s holdings he would be as foreign to them as they would be to him.”

Aidan laughed. “He’s cousin to the Countess of Lincoln, although I know for a fact he’s never met her. When my mother was a girl he petitioned her to find a place for his daughter in her service as my mother was his favorite child. Instead the countess made the match between my parents.”

Lord Glin suddenly found himself impressed by the woman sitting by his side. “Ye actually know the Countess of Lincoln?”

Aidan nodded.

“And the queen?”

“I was one of her maids of honor,” Aidan replied. “Have ye never been to court, my lord?”

He shook his head. “My mother,” he said, “was the heiress to Glinshannon. Her father envisioned a great marriage for her to a great Irish name. In preparation for such an event he sent her to a convent school in France. It was at the home of a French friend that she met my father who was also studying in France at the time. For them it was love at first sight, and at the first opportunity they ran away, and were married.” He shrugged fatalistically. “My father’s English family were no more thrilled by the match than was my Irish grandfather, but by that time my mother was with child—me—and the marriage vows were undisputedly attested to by reliable witnesses, and so both families were forced to accept the union as a hard fact.