Chapter 15 #2
“Norin,” he said.
Aoife nodded. “Good to meet you.”
Kian still hesitated, suspicion carved deep into the lines around his mouth. Then, with a grudging sigh, he extended his hand as well. His handshake was brief but firm.
“Kian,” he said.
Aoife met his gaze. “Inis Morra should look after its own.” A breeze caught her hair.
Lugh slung his rifle across his back. “You should head in, miss. Storm’s coming.”
“Should we walk you to the house?” Norin offered.
“No need. I can find my way.”
Norin smiled and touched two fingers to his brow in a salute. “Stay safe.”
Aoife nodded. “You too.”
Then they were gone. Three silhouettes framed by a storm-coloured sky disappeared into the narrow, hedge-lined path.
Aoife stood alone for a moment, assessing the darkening sky.
She hadn’t expected to find allies in Halverton’s own uniform. Nor amongst the lords. This was turning out to be a strange day indeed.
But perhaps there were more cracks in his empire than he realised.
***
By the time Aoife reached the house, she didn’t have long before the dinner gong.
Hurrying, she made her way to the servants’ hall.
The staff were busier than she’d ever seen them as they prepared for the dinner service.
Several stopped when they saw her, but she simply smiled and they carried on.
For the first time, they didn’t treat her being there as an unwanted intrusion.
She found James with several of the other staff in the kitchen. He was carrying a tureen, a deep oval-shaped dish that she’d learnt the word for in the last week. She could tell from his very fixed expression that it pained him.
“Can I borrow James for a moment?” she asked Mr Lanyon. He grumbled something she couldn’t hear.
“It won’t take long.”
“Very well,” the butler conceded, and she led James away from the bustle and back to the workroom. The spare bandages were still on the table and she made quick work of changing it. The burn looked angry and sore, but there was no sign of evil spirits having got in, at least.
James watched in silence as she worked, but it was a comfortable silence now. He might not have seen the point in them understanding one another. But she had been right; it had made things better.
“What are you doing down here?” Clara stood in the doorway. “Mr Lanyon’s just about to ring the dinner gong.”
Aoife looked at James. “Try not to overuse it.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I’ll do my best.”
***
The table setting for dinner had changed. Where Halverton usually sat at the head of the table with her on the other end, tonight she’d been moved to sit next to him. It was clear why the moment she sat down and he leant in to kiss her. It was brief, and she was glad of it.
She was shocked again when the food was served, skipping the usual entrée and going straight to the main course.
Halverton clearly noticed her surprise as he leant in and whispered, “I thought we might have better things to do than eat.” A shiver ran down her spine and heat flooded her belly; different and opposing feelings competed for her attention.
Aoife ate slowly, wondering how she was going to get out of this.
Feigning sickness would give her an excuse to return to her room, but she still wanted to talk to him about last night.
After the plates were cleared, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
He bent his head to nuzzle her neck, and she tipped her head to give him better access.
Her heart raced as her eyes fluttered shut.
Pull yourself together.
“I wanted to thank you, my lord.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, his lips never leaving her neck.
“For sending food down to the village.”
Lord Halverton pulled back a little. “And thank you,” he replied. “For playing your role.”
She smiled faintly, choosing her next words with care. “I appreciated your support.”
He looked at her, puzzled. “Support?”
“When Lord Montbrass suggested you should be exporting more,” she reminded him. “You disagreed.”
“Of course I did,” he said. “If I had not, they would have increased my quota. And it is obvious I cannot meet those quotas and keep the farmers alive.” He leant in to kiss her neck again.
Aoife hesitated. “I’m sure you’ve done the figures, but… I think it might be worth a second look.” Her breath hitched as he sucked at her pulse point. “There isn’t enough kept aside for the villagers to survive the winter.”
Halverton growled in frustration as he pulled away again.
“I have done the figures,” he said, his tone measured. “There is enough food for the workers. Those who earn their keep. If they are going hungry, that is their own fault for sharing. People who cannot pull their weight should not be eating what others have earned.”
Aoife stared at him. “And the children? What about them?”
“If their parents cannot afford to feed them, they should not have had them,” Halverton said. “It is not my responsibility, nor the empire’s, to keep them fat and content.”
Aoife’s breath quickened as she fought not to say what she was thinking. Halverton stood, offering her his hand. She took it and allowed him to help her up.
Her window of opportunity was closing. Mind racing, she struggled to think what she might say to get the conversation back on track.
Her throat tightened, but she forced her voice steady when she spoke.
“You also stood up to Lord Severcombe,” she said, her face mere inches from his. “About the public works roads.”
“Aoife,” he said, and the way he said her name, not just correctly but with passion, made her heart flutter. “Do you not think this is a conversation best saved for another time?”
She had to tread carefully, but this was the first time they’d talked about the famine since the day she’d arrived. What if this were her only chance?
“People are dying every day, my lord. I don’t think it can wait.”
“Very well,” Halverton stepped away from her, sinking into his chair, arms folded.
Aoife sat down tentatively. This was her chance. “You’re not like the other lords. They only see what’s right in front of their faces. You see the bigger picture. They see the public roads as a defence against idleness, but you see it as the waste it truly is.”
He studied her. “You are very observant.”
It was a good start.
“It is true, I have no patience for the public roads scheme. Wasting resources on pointless projects is idiocy. If they focused on reclaiming the land instead, they’d have more to show for it.”
A spark of hope. “Could we start a project like that here? Food and board in exchange for working on the land. On projects that have a purpose.”
Halverton picked up his glass; he took a sip, then swirled it, studying the burgundy liquid as he thought. “I shall consider it.” He said at last.
Aoife’s heart leapt. She was already running through the idea in her head, picking out the best areas of land that could be turned into farmland, wondering how many people he might be able to hire.
Until he went on.
“Of course we would not need to adapt more land for farming if your people did not refuse to adapt to modern farming practises. They are still using primitive methods that exhaust the soil and yield poor harvests.”
“That’s not true,” Aoife said before she could stop herself. Halverton scowled at her, and she quickly reined herself in before continuing. “My apologies. But Farmer Gowra’s family has worked that land for generations. They know it better than anyone.”
“Then he is doing a poor job,” Halverton said. “If he can barely feed himself.”
“He can feed himself,” she said sharply. “He could feed the whole village if you didn’t take it away.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
Halverton stared at her, expression hardening. “Exports are necessary for economic stability.”