Authors: Shannon Farrell
"Here, Miss, I’ll help you with your hair," the maid offered as she held up a comb and brush set which Lucien had also bought at the clothes shop.
Riona sat down by the fire then, and enjoyed the sensation of someone else brushing her long, waist length hair for a change.
"You wouldn’t have any scissors, would you?" Riona suddenly asked.
"Oh, Miss, you’re never going to cut it, are you?" the serving girl gasped, marveling at the silken auburn tresses.
"Just a few inches off the end won’t make much difference, now will it? It will grow again."
"All right, I’ll go fetch them."
Just as the maid was leaving, the food arrived. Riona’s mouth began to water as she lifted the covers off the plates. She could see then that the tray had only been set for one. Perhaps he has decided to dine downstairs with the other guests, Riona reflected.
She pulled the small table up to the fire, where she sat and warmed herself. Splaying her hair over the back of the chair to try to dry it, Riona began to slowly make her way through some of the food. She could see it was all good plain simple fare, with no fancy sauces. Even so, after a few mouthfuls, she began to struggle, so unused was she to any large amounts of food.
Riona managed nearly all of the fish, as much because she liked it as she knew it would help build her up. She also drank all the milk and had a small slice of cheese.
As Riona nibbled, the maid came back and trimmed about six inches off her hair, so that it reached to about the middle of her back. Then the girl combed it once more, and left the comb and brush on the side.
"Will there be anything else, Miss?"
"No, no, I can dress myself in a minute as soon as I've finished this," Riona said with a wave. "Thank you for all your help."
"Not at all, Miss."
She was just about to leave when there was a tap at the door, and she opened it to admit Lucien.
Riona blushed scarlet at being caught sitting in her dressing gown.
Lucien seemed to take no notice at all as he rubbed his hands together heartily. "I’m as hungry as a hunter," he said.
Behind him a male servant wheeled in a trolley of food, and placed a chair for him by the fire just near Riona.
Riona was mortified to have her underthings all laid out in plain view, but since Lucien had purchased them anyway, she decided it was silly to be embarrassed.
Lucien peered over at her tray, and observed she had done her best with the food. "I hope everything was to your liking. Of course, I wanted to make sure nothing was too rich for you, hence the lack of sauces. In a few more weeks, you should be eating normally again."
He smiled down at her and then began to tuck his napkin into his waistcoat. He lifted the covers of his dishes to unveil a rather large beefsteak and some rice, along with a chicken cutlet and a slab of ham.
"It depends on what you mean by normally," Riona said with a wry smile, indicating his plates. "I haven’t seen so much food on one plate since Mr. Woodham’s Christmas ball three years go, when I helped serve the guests."
Lucien stopped chewing for a moment, and then grumbled, "Well, you needn’t make me feel as though I'm overeating. Whatever I don’t eat the servants get."
"Or it just gets thrown to the dogs, as it did in Mr. Woodham’s house. His servants lived on bread and butter and porridge most of the time, or potatoes of course. Sometimes they would taste meat, but not very often."
"Surely you have pigs, cattle?" Lucien said between mouthfuls, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.
"The family pig is usually raised to pay the rent. The poor never get to eat it. When the Famine came, some of them did kill their pigs, but then they were evicted for being in arrears with their rent, and ended up homeless. They were forced to wander the roads because the landlords said they didn’t want to hear their excuses, and that they a were all lazy and feckless," Riona said quietly. "As for the cows, they gave milk for butter, cheese, and of course milk for the children. But eventually they ran dry, so they were either eaten or sold."
Lucien listened to her tale with interest, before pointing out, "But the papers would have you believe that it's the poor Irish person’s own faults that they live in such poverty. That the ordinary Irish person is lazy and indigent, and that that is what makes them poor. Everyone says that they should never have resorted to simply one crop, the potato."
Riona had heard the argument a hundred times before, and tamped down her anger at the criticism. If only the people in England and Dublin knew how much the Irish poor had suffered...
She put down her fork and explained patiently, "But if you have little good quality land, what else are you meant to raise? Wheat doesn’t grow where I come from. You’re lucky to get oats, and our harvest season is later because we're so far north. The potato stays in the ground, and you can tend it and still do other things, like fish, or teach, or make clothes and furniture. My family and I labored every day in the vegetable patches. My brothers worked every day of their lives. What have they got to show for it?"
"Oh God, Riona, I'm sorry--"
She pressed on, her anger bursting forth at last. "My family worked all our lives for Mr. Woodham until he decided to sell his estate because he said he was too poor to keep it on. Too poor? He just sold up everything and moved to his English estate and left us to suffer. We worked from the time we were old enough to walk,
and were reduced to living in a fisherman’s hut half the size of this room."
"You're right, it doesn't seem fair."
"I'll admit there are good and bad people the world over, hardworking people, and lazy ones, honest ones and lying and cheating ones. But even if they are lazy, do they deserve to be allowed to starve? We weren’t lazy, and we were left to starve. The blight ruined every potato, in every field, regardless of who owned it, the feckless or the diligent!"
Lucien stared at Riona as she made her impassioned speech.
Thinking he disbelieved her, she pressed on. "Mr. Woodham talked about being too poor to keep the estate. When a rich man goes bankrupt, he pays off his debts, yet still gets to keep his personal possessions, doesn’t he? He isn’t stripped of everything he has! It would be too embarrassing for the rest of the people in your class.
"But when a person like me goes bankrupt, we end up homeless, stripped of our possessions, which we have to sell off one by one, and we starve, plain and simple. And if starvation doesn’t get us, disease will. So don’t you dare say the Irish are lazy people, or that they deserve this fate!"
"Now Riona, I never said--"
"I’ve seen people eating grass to stay alive," she revealed bitterly. "In a land with so much prosperity, it should never be allowed to happen. The money the food on your plate costs would feed my family for a month. A poor diet, admittedly, but it would at least be something. Those lovely clothes you bought me would feed them for years! The waistcoat you're wearing now would feed my entire town for a year!"
As Lucien shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable, Riona sat back with a sigh, and began to apologize. "I’m not saying I’m not thankful for all you help. I'm more grateful than I can say, and I shan’t even begin to try to thank you for all you’ve done for me since we met only a few short hours ago.
"But surely you must see, that I'm one of the lucky ones, a poor waif you found struggling in the pouring rain on the roadside. But what about all the thousands of other poor people that you don’t see? The rich have duties as well as privileges which come with their position, which they should fulfil. You can’t improve a person, make them see the value of hard work, and thrift and good husbandry, if you've allowed him to starve to death through callousness, so called economic policy, or simple ignorance of the facts and the current crisis this country is facing."
By this time Lucien’s appetite had vanished completely, and he mopped his mouth with his napkin and stood up.
"Thank you for the lecture, my dear," he drawled. "If you have finished berating me for my shortcomings, I shall say good night."
As he headed for the door, Riona leapt up and ran after him. "I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. But someone needs to tell the truth about what's happening here before it's too late."
Unthinkingly she took his hand, and held it firmly in her own. The warmth flowed through both of them.
After staring at her lovely face for a moment, Lucien shook his head. He enfolded her tiny hand in both his own, and said softly, "No, I’m not angry with you. How could I be, when all you’ve done is tell me some unpalatable facts? I’ve been puffed up with pride over this new clinic of mine, and think that because I'm a doctor, I'm helping the poor and needy.
"But the truth of it is, the people I see are in many cases too far gone for me to be able to do anything to help them. You're absolutely right, Riona. I should prevent diseases before they even start, by making sure there's food, warmth and shelter for those who need it. But where can I start?"
She considered the question for several seconds. "Perhaps begin by looking at your own household and clinic first. Then talk to some of the charity committees to see where there is most need."
Lucien continued to hold her hand for a moment longer, until he suddenly stroked the silken sleeve of the gown. "I’m glad you like the things."
"I do, really, but it was far too generous of you."
"Nonsense, it's the least I can do."
The material rode up her arm, and suddenly he caressed the delicate inner skin of Riona’s wrist.
A tremor ran through both of them.
Lucien dragged his eyes away from the luminous bare skin and murmured, "Well, you must be very tired, Miss Connolly. I’ll bid you good night. I have some business at the bank in the morning, so I’ll order your breakfast for ten, and we’ll get underway at eleven. I’ll call for you here."
"That would be fine," Riona said, trying to resist the temptation to tug her hand away nervously. It was only when Lucien released her and closed the door behind him that at last she felt she could breathe again.
What an unusual man, so changeable, so earnest, so unpredictable
, Riona reflected as she sat down in the chair by the fire to finish drying her hair.
"What a strange unpredictable woman," Lucien muttered as he sat down by his own fireside to loosen his stock and unbutton his waistcoat. "So lovely, yet so passionate, clear-thinking. She must have an extraordinary family."
At this thought Lucien recalled his promise to send money to her family, and resolved to send one hundred pounds with a note that they should buy what food they could and distribute it to the poor in their area, and that he would send more money later.
It never occurred to him that there might not be very much food to buy, or that a lack of food might be the least of the problems facing the poor in Dunfanaghy. There was no work, no housing now that many of the cottages had been tumbled down, and no hope. Certainly there were no potatoes, and no seed potatoes to try to plant for the coming year.