Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
T here was so much to unpack from what Aidan had said. He was a solicitor? He had a sister? His family had lived here? No wonder he’d taken exception to her earlier foolish comments about people claiming ancestry. Ugh.
And… the Quinns. She did recognise that name. Faintly. If only she could remember why that was…
She grew conscious that the room had stilled, that people were looking at her. She glanced up, they looked away. Why?
The door opened and Helen, their waitress, dispensed drinks from the tray she carried. Good. She could do with a drink. Even if it was only apple cider. She needed to do something to not look stunned by what had just been said.
After savouring the tart tang, she pushed the glass away and glanced up, watching Aidan carefully as Mary and James sought more clarification.
Is this why he’d been exploring the old castle?
Why he’d been talking to Mary so earnestly before?
And he was a solicitor? That was the same as being a lawyer, wasn’t it?
How easily she had been fooled by his easy-going ways.
Clearly there was a lot more to the man than first appearances suggested.
Helen reappeared and distributed their meals, and Aidan’s explanations were put on pause as they ate their food.
But while the scampi was delicious as always, she found it hard to swallow.
Was Aidan here simply because he wanted to find out about his family history, or did he have another motive?
From the way Mary and the others looked at her she wondered if there was something else at play.
How she wished she could remember more about the Quinn family, and whether there was any link to the castle.
She drew out her phone, sent a message with exactly that question to Aisling and her mother, then switched it on silent.
“You’re being very quiet there,” Aidan said.
She took a sip of her Bulmers. “Just enjoying my meal. Are you enjoying the pie?”
“You were right. It is delicious.” His eyes sparkled with humour.
She bit her lip, glanced down.
“Hey, I’m just teasing.”
She forked another scampi in, then peeked up. “Look, I’m really happy you discovered that I can make good suggestions.”
His lips pulled out then up. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
Her chest fluttered. His smile seemed to have that effect. “I’m afraid so.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment, then fell to her plate.
“Want one?”
“Could I?”
She carefully transferred a plump prawn to his plate, beside the gravy-meat of his pie.
“Thanks.” He ate it, smiled. “Yum.”
Was it silly of her to admit she found his use of words like “Yum” a wee bit adorable? The men she knew—apart from Colin, of course—seemed a lot more free with certain words that Mam had always frowned upon. A man who appreciated fairy gardens and such things was a rarity.
He nudged her shoulder. “Want some of my pie?”
“It’s okay. I’ve had that before. Hence why I knew it was good.”
“Hence, huh?”
“Come on. You should be familiar with that word. Especially now I know that you’re a solicitor.” She sipped her cider. “Do you do much work in courtrooms?”
He shook his head, and part of her relaxed. She didn’t want to find a man appealing who argued for a living. She was so prone to foot-in-mouth that there was no way she could ever get the best of him.
“I do more contractual law and casework assistance. I haven’t gone for my bar exams, so I’m not in courtrooms often, except to advise.”
She nodded, and when he was asked a question by Niamh, she concentrated on eating her food, yet still thinking, thinking, thinking.
Why did this new facet of his life concern her? Was it the way others kept glancing at her, glancing at him, then Mary, as if there was a big secret she wasn’t aware of?
Her phone vibrated with a message, and she picked it up. Aisling: I don’t know anything.
Taut heartstrings eased. Okay then. Maybe all was well.
She finished her meal, placed her cutlery on the plate and pushed it away, ready to be cleared.
Aidan had done the same, and as most of the others had finished, it seemed time to continue the evening’s discussion.
Mary cleared her throat, then gestured to the books in the middle of the table.
“So when I met Aidan earlier today and he mentioned the Quinn family, I thought I’d do a little bit of research.
Aidan, you’ll find in that top book there some bookmarks that show pictures of where the Quinn family used to live. ”
“Really?” He leaned across and picked up the book, flipping pages until he found what he was looking for.
Rory smothered a smile. He seemed as eager as a puppy finding food.
She leaned across, saw the page had opened to a photograph of a small thatched stone cottage, with a woodland at the back. Pretty.
“That first picture is believed to date back to the mid 1600s, and yes, before you ask, it’s still standing,” Mary said.
“Wow. It’s nothing like the places at home.”
She recognised it now. “Is that the one on the road to Killarney?”
Mary nodded. “Perhaps you could show that to Aidan one day.”
“Sure.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” He smiled at her appreciatively.
Oh, she was a fool to take his smiles so much to heart.
“Now,” Mary drew another book to her. “I knew I recognised that name, and I think from what you mentioned earlier that you’ll find this next photograph reveals a little more about your family history.” She passed it to him, another page opened.
Rory didn’t want to look too obvious as she glanced at it, but from what she could see, the Quinn family had certainly come up in the world. Instead of thatch, this house was larger, two storeys, with what looked like more expensive slate tiles.
“That house suggests the Quinn family’s fortunes had improved by the early 1700s, although I think you’ll agree it’s nothing in comparison to where they lived next.”
The room seemed to take a collective breath, and Rory’s heart began to pace. Just where had Aidan’s family lived next?
Mary handed over another book, again opened to a photograph.
And this time Rory gasped. She recognised that place. She’d been there just this afternoon.
The burned down castle beside the golf course on the grounds of the Castle Griffin Hotel.
* * *
His heart pulsed as he studied the photograph. Gran was right. “So the castle did belong to my family,” he said slowly.
Mary tapped the page. “The Quinn family certainly lived there for a time.”
He frowned. “Lived there? Or owned it?” The question of legal ownership was what everything hung upon.
Mary flipped over a page. “I’m afraid there has always been some debate about the true ownership of the place.”
Which was exactly why his grandmother had sent him on this quest. If his family had been manipulated or unlawfully evicted then he, as the first lawyer in his family, was charged with the special responsibility to see things set right. Even if it upset the woman sitting next to him.
“But I… I don’t understand,” Rory murmured. “I always understood the ruined castle to be part of the Griffin estate.”
Hmm. Clearly she hadn’t known. But that didn’t mean he’d meekly pack up stumps and head home. No, even historical wrongs needed to be made right, and those affected compensated accordingly.
His attention returned to Mary. “How do we find out about the true ownership?”
“You would need to search the parish records, and I’m sure there will be title deeds and other appropriate legal documents that can show exactly how things are situated.”
“So why is there still a question about the legal ownership?”
She sighed, glanced at Rory, then back at him. “Because I think you’ll find there are two sets of those documents, and therefore there are concerns about which are the most accurate ones.”
Rory stiffened. “Do you mean to imply that the set held by my family are false?”
“No, not at all,” Mary soothed. But the flick of her gaze at Aidan didn’t exactly support that. “It’s just that there has long been a question mark over what is the most accurate rendition of the land titles.”
“I can’t believe this,” Rory muttered. She pushed back her chair. Glanced at him. “I can’t believe you,” she murmured, for his ears only. “What kind of person pretends to be nice when really he’s trying to steal my family’s land? That’s reprehensible.”
“It’s not reprehensible to want the truth to come out,” he said gently. “And that’s all I’ve been tasked to do.”
“Tasked by whom?” she demanded.
“By my grandmother. She recalls stories told by her mother of her family living there before the Troubles that saw the place burned in the early 1900s.”
She shook her head. “She’s mistaken.” She glared at Mary.
“And I can’t believe you are supporting him in this.
What about my family? We’re the ones who have lived here for generations.
We haven’t hoofed off to the other side of the world then suddenly shown up demanding ownership.
Why would you support him when this is clearly based on something other than the facts? ”
Mary sighed. “I’m sorry this has upset you, Rory.”
“I’m not upset,” Rory insisted, the pink splotching her cheeks proving otherwise. “I just think this is a waste of time.”
Good to know she wasn’t upset.
Rory rose, her clenched fingers and narrowed eyes revealing her frustration. “Look, if this had a drop of truth to it, then of course my family would know about it. But the fact nobody has ever said anything about it in all this time until now suggests it’s merely smoke in the wind.”
“But there’s no smoke without a fire,” David said.
“There might’ve been a fire but it had nothing to do with my family,” she snapped.
Yep. Clearly not upset.
“I’m afraid I have to go now.” She collected her bag from the back of her chair. “I have a big day tomorrow.” She nodded to the room at large. “Good night.”
“Will I be seeing you at the shop tomorrow?” Mary asked.