Chapter Thirteen
Sir William Devers survived his wound, but he would never walk again.
As soon as it was feasible he was moved from the Reverend Samuel Steen’s house in Maguire’s Ford back to Lisnaskea.
He was only in his mid-twenties, and as he lay in his bed, or sat in the chair that had been fashioned for him, he grew angrier and angrier.
He wanted to hold the Catholics responsible for his infirmity, but they had not shot at him.
He had been shot from behind, and the Catholics of Maguire’s Ford had been facing him.
Still, Sir William Devers reasoned, if they had not been at Maguire’s Ford then neither would he have been there, and he would not be the invalid he was now.
Who had shot him he did not know, nor did anyone else seem to know.
And so he did hold the Catholics answerable for his helpless state, and encouraged by his wife and mother, plotted a revenge he would never be able to carry out against the Catholics in general, against his half-brother, Kieran, and against Fortune, for he reasoned, had she never come to Ulster, none of this would have ever happened. It was all their fault.
No one came to visit Sir William and his family.
The servants gave notice but for a few. He was condemned, it seemed, to spend the rest of his days at Mallow Court with only his mother and his wife for civilized company.
Sir William Devers took to drinking anything that would free him from his pain and his boredom.
At Maguire’s Ford Autumn Leslie, born on All Hallows’ Eve, the Samhein celebration of the ancient Celtic races, thrived.
Jasmine knew instinctively that this was absolutely her last baby, and so she nursed her daughter devotedly, declining a wetnurse.
Fortune adored the baby, and spent much of her time with Autumn and their mother.
“She is so sweet,” Fortune sighed. “I should so like a little girl like her … one day. I know this is not the right time, Mama.”
“If Kieran goes alone to the New World,” Jasmine suggested, “perhaps you should be with child then. That way I could be with you when the child was born. Then when it is safe for you to join your husband, the baby will be old enough to travel with you, but wait until we return to England before you make that decision.”
Fortune sighed again. She wanted a normal life like her mother and her sister, India, had.
A home, a husband, babies, and peace. Why could she not have these things?
But she knew the answer to her own unspoken questions.
She had married a man whose faith was not acceptable.
They would have to make a new life in a place where his faith and hers were acceptable.
But when? Why must it all take so long? She cuddled her baby sister closely, marveling that everything about Autumn was so perfect.
Her dark hair with its faint auburn tints, her eyes which were beginning to hold distinct glints of green even at two months of age when she was baptized by the Reverend Samuel Steen, her half-sister, and brother, Adam, standing as her godparents.
Christmas and Twelfth Night had come and gone.
The winter had set in hard. Maguire’s Ford was quiet, and there was no longer any threat of violence from Lisnaskea, the excesses of the previous October having drained all choler from them.
To Kieran’s delight there were several families who had decided that they would like to go with him and Fortune to the New World, including young Bruce Morgan.
They saw the opportunities available to them there despite the dangers involved.
The older folk, of course, could not find it in their hearts to leave Ulster.
They had always survived somehow, and would continue to do so, they reasoned.
January gave way to February, and then February gave way to March.
The green hillsides were dotted with the white coats of the lambs born the month before.
The duke began to make plans to leave Maguire’s Ford for Scotland.
They would depart the estate the fifteenth day of May, the day after Adam Leslie’s fifteenth birthday.
The two Leslie sons had settled quite well into Maguire’s Ford.
The Reverend Steen had been engaged as their tutor.
The king’s patent was expected before they departed, and Jasmine had already had the estate boundaries redrawn, dividing the land equally between the two boys.
When Duncan turned sixteen in another four years, a house would be built for him on a site he had already chosen.
March departed, and halfway through April the royal warrant arrived, transferring Maguire’s Ford from Lady Jasmine Leslie, the duchess of Glenkirk, to her sons, Adam and Duncan Leslie.
Each boy was gifted with a peerage from the king since their father was a duke.
Adam became Baron Leslie of Erne Rock. Duncan became Baron Leslie of Dinsmore, which meant from the hillfort, the site of his future dwelling.
A copy of the document was posted publicly in the village square, and Kieran took the second copy to Mallow Court to show his half-brother and his stepmother.
Jane Devers, looking worn, greeted him sourly. “You were told not to come here again,” she snapped at him as he entered the house.
“It will be my last visit, madame, I promise you. Where is William? Take me to him, and fetch your daughter-in-law too.”
Jane Leslie brought her stepson to the rear parlor of the house where he found William Devers seated in a padded chair.
“Kieran!” William’s voice was almost welcoming.
“I am sorry to intrude unannounced upon you, Willy,” Kieran said, “but I feared you wouldn’t see me if I sent ahead.
I have brought you a copy of the royal patent for Maguire’s Ford.
” He handed the document to the younger man.
“You will note it transfers ownership of the estate, which is to be divided equally between Adam and Duncan Leslie, now Sir Adam and Sir Duncan. There can no longer be any doubt as to the disposition of Erne Rock and its lands. They are in the hands of two Protestant milords whose tutor is Reverend Steen.”
“But Maguire is still there,” William said, “isn’t he?” His tone was now sour.
“Aye, and he will be until he dies,” Kieran said. “He causes no trouble, and he’s a genius with the horses, Willy. He is needed.”
“He’s a Catholic,” came the stubborn reply.
“His masters aren’t. Do not trifle with Glenkirk’s boys, Willy. Scotland is not that far away, and James Leslie will kill you.”
“I’d be better off dead,” William Devers replied bitterly.
“I cannot feel anything below my waist, Kieran. The physician says the child Emily Anne will shortly have is the only child we will ever have. What if it is not a son? I sit here all day long with only Mama and my wife for company. Their cheerfulness and their nobility sicken me. The physician informs me, other than the fact I am dead in my legs and my manhood, I am as healthy as a horse and shall live a long life. Are you pleased to hear that, brother? I shall probably outlive you.”
“I am sorry, Willy, but the truth is you have no one to blame for your situation but yourself. Oh, the Lisnaskea Protestants gladly followed you once you, your mother, and the late Dundas had fired them up, but afterward they deserted you. Seeing you reminds them of what they did to their neighbors and friends just because they followed Catholicism. And each time they see you, they are reminded of what you did to our half-sister, Aine Fitzgerald. I am truly sorry for you, Willy. Yet I cannot help but think you got exactly what you deserved.”
“You weep for a whore’s brat, but not for your own brother!” he snarled. “I’m glad our father died else he might have given you back your inheritance, you bastard!”
“I wouldn’t have had it, Willy. Ulster is a place of sorrow for me. I do not belong here. You may have Mallow Court for yourself, and your heirs, and good luck to you, little brother.”
“What is it you want?” Jane Devers and her daughter-in-law entered the room. The voice was Emily Anne’s. She was very full with her child, and Kieran wondered if it was a son or a daughter, and if he would ever learn that fact. The child looked ready to be born.
“Good day, madame,” Kieran said pleasantly, and he bowed to her.
“I have brought a copy of the royal patent with its seal for Maguire’s Ford so you may see the legal and official transfer of the estate from my mother-in-law to her two younger Leslie sons is complete.
” He took the document from William’s hands, and passed it to Emily Anne and Lady Jane.
“When you have properly perused it, I shall take it back. I have also come to bid you farewell. My wife, the Leslies, and I will be departing for Scotland in mid-May. It is unlikely that I shall ever return to Ulster.”
The two women read the warrant carefully, finally returning it to Kieran.
“She was not lying, Lady Jasmine, when she said she was giving Maguire’s Ford to her sons,” Jane Devers said, sounding surprised.
“No,” he replied, “she was not lying.” Then, there being nothing else left for him to say to any of them, he kissed the women’s hands, shook his brother’s reluctant hand, and departed his childhood home for the last time.
At the crest of the hill he turned to look at it a final time. He would not see it ever again.
At the end of April word was brought to Kieran that his sister-in-law had prematurely delivered a female child who would be christened Emily Jane.
The child was healthy, and the mother had survived her ordeal with courage.
Kieran Devers sent the niece he was unlikely to ever see a small silver spoon and cup.
He had sent to Belfast for the items several months ago, and they had only recently come.