Chapter 27 #2
“See, I have another aunt, me mam’s eldest sister that I mentioned,” Cormac continued.
“Biddy. And Biddy took my grandmother’s maiden name, so she’s Biddy Early to all who know her.
Auntie Biddy is a rare kind of healer. Whenever Mam felt moved enough to speak of her, she always mentioned the goodness and light that emanated from her.
The Sight was strongest with Biddy, and she’s earned a fine reputation for good works and communing with the dead.
Spirits and the like, ye know. Helping folk to carry out rituals to move them on.
Reads minds and fortunes. That kind of person. ”
“’Tis blessed ye are, to have such a person in the family,” I noted. Though most would give someone of that ilk a wide berth, ’tis that very same person they’d turn to in times of need, and my own da had great respect for those gifted with the Sight.
“Aye,” he said, nodding, “I suppose we were, but all me mam saw were the gossiping busybodies and the pelting of salt wherever she went. Anyway, thing was, me mam has a touch of the Sight. Prompting Da to plant this or that, or knowing there was an issue with livestock, and it always true, or a lifesaving endeavor. And Lady Catherine isn’t an exception.
Though, thing is, Mam always said there was darkness about Lady Catherine, and she didn’t want me to come up here, to come near her. ”
The little hairs on my arms rose as another rumble of thunder shook the gardener’s cottage.
“In the beginning, ’twas fine,” Cormac said with a shrug. “But the first month or so, I’d see that woman in white and then go into a strange state of remembering.”
I froze and straightened my spine.
He glanced at me, cheeks pinking as he rubbed his hands together, before gesturing around the cottage. “I … after that, I asked to be given quarters outside the house, and she acquiesced, as ye see. But as time wore on, and ye arrived, and all yer talk of haunts and strange things, I wondered.”
My pulse quickened, and I set down the teacup. “What did ye wonder, Mr. O’Dea?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and sat back in the chair.
“I don’t want to sound uncharitable, but something’s just …
not right. ’Tis like every time I leave the village to go on an errand, I pass through a strange veil.
If ’tis raining here, ’tis sunny a half mile down the road.
Or whatever weight is pressed on my chest lifts the minute I’m clear of the village boundary.
Same thing happens when I return, like everything changes, and suddenly the lightness in my step becomes weighted.
I’d even often posted a letter to me parents there at the local pub, but never heard a word in return.
So I once sent a letter from Galway, while sending them money by secured coach, and gave the postmaster’s address for return.
Sure enough, next time I went to Galway to send money home, there was a letter waiting, penned by Dad, scolding me for never writing. ”
A chill gripped my lungs as his words landed square on my chest.
“That got me thinking, and ’tis odd no one comes to trade in the village, and no one leaves to sell their wares.
As if the village mayhap doesn’t exist? I don’t know …
but all that to say, ’tisn’t ye, Maggie.
Ye were right before, and all that talk of other Wilhelminas …
there might be something to it, and—” He broke off, and slid from the chair to his knees.
My eyes widened. “I must beg for yer forgiveness, for I fear I’ve brought ye to a terrible place. ”
My brows furrowed, and I quickly joined him on the floor before gripping his shoulders firmly.
“Arra,” I said, scoffing. “Sure, what could ye do? ’Tis yer job to drive the carriage and follow her ladyship’s—”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head before glancing at me.
Our eyes met, and such sadness swam in the depths of his gaze.
“For ’twas I who told her ladyship of ye, Maggie.
’Twas I who found ye there on the side of the road, between Clareabbey and Ennis.
’Twas I who loaded ye onto the cart and brought ye to the workhouse, using me da’s connection to get ye through the gates.
And ’twas I who told yer story—one that wasn’t mine to tell—to my aunt, when she mentioned this entire scheme to me.
Needing someone who looked like my late cousin, with baggage enough to want some revenge. ”
“Wh-what?” I asked, eyes widening. He’d saved my life thrice over then.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.
Why he’d done so. Why me? Nor could I understand why he seemed disturbed by the act.
“Ye have my gratitude, Cormac O’Dea. Though ’tis some kind of irony to think the very reason all this began became my saving grace. ”
He blinked, once slowly, then rapidly, afore running a sleeve over his nose. “But what if—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I believed them too, those words.
What care had I if Lady Catherine was about some dark conjuring?
If I was right, the Cailleach she dealt with needed my vengeance, and once she had that and I’d dealt with the solicitors, all would be well.
“Whatever yer aunt is up to, ye must see the good in what she’s accomplished. ”
“Aye,” he whispered.
I ran my hands from his shoulder to grip his ice-cold fingers.
“Neither of us are in any position to question her methods. They work. The village is fed while the world outside burns. And ye’re her family through blood.
That’s no small thing, especially for people like us.
She’s never forgotten where she comes from.
And if that means I have to live with the woman in white ’til all this is accomplished, then so be it. ”
He glanced at my hands, then laced his fingers through mine. A jolt ran up my arms, straight to my thundering heart, and I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat.
“I’ll get ye out of here when the time comes,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels, our hands still joined. “We’ll take care of this business together, then I’ll leave with ye.”
’Twas a fine gesture, for certain, but I bit my lip. “I’ll see it through, Mr. O’Dea. But I’ll not leave my future to the whim of another.”
“Are ye not already doing that? Relying on my aunt?” he asked. There was no malice in it, just a simple question, and I took a moment to chew on it.
“Aye,” I replied at last. “I suppose I am. But there’s a contract in place, and payment at the end. ’Twas my choice to sign that document, and I have my own goals to consider. I owe it to my family.”
“May they rest in peace,” he intoned with a nod. Then, his gaze found mine once more. “I’ll follow yer lead, Maggie O’Shaughnessy. Whether ye need me or not, I’ll be there in the shadows, waiting for yer instruction. If that means living a lifetime within this strange veil, then so be it.”
“Why?” I asked, brows furrowing. He had his own life to live, for goodness’ sake.
“Because I swore I’d protect ye the moment I lifted yer starved body onto Dad’s cart over a year ago and, in my blindness, thought to rescue ye from that godforsaken workhouse through this endeavor,” he said.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I gritted my teeth to prevent from giving them purchase.
I shook my head.
“I want nothing in return,” he continued. “But ye can call on me if ever the need may arise.”
About to tell him to live his own life to protect himself, we startled apart as rapid knocking shook the door.
“Who is it?” Cormac called, quickly rising to his feet. I scrambled back into my armchair and swiftly plucked up the empty teacup with one hand while smoothing my skirts with the other.
“’Tis Beth, Mr. O’Dea,” came the frantic call. “Ye must, that is, ye must come quick to the house. I can’t find Lady Wilhelmina, and Lady Catherine is asking for her, and we have a guest, and—”
“A guest?” Cormac called, yanking open the door. Outside, Beth stood, a drowned rat in the downpour, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of me. “M’Lady! Oh, do come quickly!”
I rose to my feet, and rushed toward the door. “What is it, Beth? Who has come?”
“’Tis a man, m’Lady. He was aboard a ship from Galway to Foynes, and ’twas wrecked in the storm. He was barely able to pull himself and his child from the sea, but he saw the house from afar, and came knocking, and—”
“Hush now,” I said, glancing at Cormac. I wanted to say “See? The village is visible. There’s naught amiss,” but his brows were furrowed so fiercely I thought better of it. “Her ladyship must be in need of ye. I’ll follow Beth through the kitchens and change.”
He nodded, one sharp slice of the neck, before turning to fetch his coat.
And I grasped Beth’s hand as we bolted from the gardens toward the house.