Chapter 22
I have always felt a certain horror of political economists since I heard one of them say he feared the famine … in Ireland would not kill more than a million people, and that would scarcely be enough to do any good.
“Michael?” I hissed, throwing my cloak over the armchair near the fireplace in my bedchamber. The minute we’d returned to Browne House, I’d raced away from the stables, through the house, and up the stairs as quickly as possible.
Remember.
“Michael!” I called, glancing around the room.
Without thought, I stomped toward the open curtains and drew them shut, before lighting a taper with the ever-present flames of the fire.
Any other day, I’d smile and remind myself to compliment Beth on her dedication to her duties.
But this instant, I needed my brother’s spirit to answer some questions.
“Michael O’Shaughnessy, show yerself this instant! ”
Cupping the infant flame at the end of the taper, I carefully shuffled toward my bedside table and touched the flame to the ready incense box.
“Michael!” I called again, as the incense hissed, sparking as the flame took hold. I quickly snuffed it, to allow it to smolder. “What the feck am I supposed to remember? Is it Cormac?”
Each memory reminded me of the hatred I felt, of the fault I placed on the one responsible. But it seemed there were gaps in those memories, and if the Cailleach required my vengeance to feed the féar gortach, then I needed to leave no stone unturned.
“Michael!” I screamed his name with all my might before unbuttoning the jacket of my riding habit.
“M’Lady?” Beth’s voice filtered through the door, and I whipped around. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine!” I called, heart racing as I shrugged off the jacket. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“I’ll help ye undress—” The door cracked open, but I stopped her cold.
“Nay!” I yelled, fiddling with the ties of my skirt. “I have a megrim and can bear no light!”
“Oh!” Beth quickly shut the door. “Is there anything I can get ye?”
“More incense!” I called, stepping out of my skirts as they pooled to the floor. “I’ve lit what’s here, but if you could refill it in an hour or two, I’d be grateful. It helps with sleep.”
Whatever it was I needed to remember, I would remember it all now. No waking in the middle of the night, no spirits causing havoc, no more pondering.
“Yes, m’Lady. I’ll see to it,” Beth called through the closed door.
“Thank you,” I whispered, as I pulled back the duvet and fell into Wilhelmina’s bed.