Dream Lover Part 7

"Then speak on, Montague. The troubles escalate by the minute. Insurrection is spreading from Belfast, at the top, to the tip of Ireland in Cork."

"I have information about the ident.i.ty of a Captain Moonlight."

"Captain Moonlight!" Castlereagh exploded. "There are a dozen such renegades arming the peasantry and inciting them to treason!"

"I have no doubt of it, my lord. Hut surely it you apprehended just one of them, it would be a simple matter to extract the other names from him?"

"You'd be surprised just how closemouthed and clannish the Irish can be, Montague. They are a breed unto themselves, G.o.d rot them! But tell me, who is this particular Captain Moonlight?"

"Since the name I am about to divulge is a n.o.ble and powerful one, I will need complete anonymity."

"You have my word on it," Castlereagh pledged.

Two armed guards from Dublin Castle carried the strongbox aboard the Swallow. As the small ship left Dublin's harbor, William felt quite patriotic. After all the petty disservice he had committed, today he was making amends by helping his country. The fact that he was helping himself at the same time filled him with satisfaction. There was no feeling on earth to compare with the knowledge that he was at the helm controlling events that shaped Destiny, so that she smiled upon him.

Amber held Joseph at arm's length. "You shouldn't have come today. This is wrong, Joseph. We must stop seeing each other."

"Stop it, Amber." He loosed her hands to take her by the shoulders. "I've never felt this way before; I can't just turn it on and off like a tap!"

The shadow of Emerald stood between them. "I'm old enough to be your mother, Joseph," she said miserably.

"You're little more than thirty, for G.o.d's sake, young and alive and married to an old man!"

"Emerald must have found out about us when she went to Grey-stones. She looks at me with loathing. She won't even stay under the same roof with me; she leaves the house at dawn and doesn't return until dusk."

"I don't even know what the child looks like, Amber. It's ridiculous to entertain the notion we could ever be betrothed."

"I've told William she's too young. She is going away to school when we return to London. All our boxes are packed; we're leaving tomorrow, Joscph."

"I'm coming to London." His voice was implacable.

Amber gazed deeply into his blue eyes with sorrow. It could never be. She would have to take him to bed and use the persuasion of her body to try to bend him to her decision.

Amber reckoned without Joseph's powers of persuasion. Their tryst had such urgency, touched with the painful poignancy that it might be their last time together.

They clung, they whispered, they promised, they pledged their undying love; they parted.

Amber, filled with delicious la.s.situde from too much loving, drifted into slumber in the warm afternoon. Joseph remained awake, watching as Amber lay peacefully beside him. He dared not sleep. He knew his crew had the ammunition loaded and were anxious to get it past customs inspection and into Greystones's own harbor.

As Joseph's blue-and-gold Brimstone slipped from the mouth of the Menai Strait, William Montague walked the deck of the Swallow, humming a tune. He was almost past Anglesey when a most pleasant idea came to him. Why wait until tomorrow to pick up his family? He could spend the night with Amber and close the summerhouse in the morning. The farther away from Ireland they were when the warrant was issued, the less suspicious Shamus would be.

Montague called out an order to head south. The Swallow rounded Penmon Point, sailed past craggy Beaumaris Castle, and entered the Menai Strait from the east. He spotted Joseph FitzGerald's schooner under sail and a.s.sumed he'd been to pick up the rest of the ammunition. As he departed the ship and climbed the steps that had been cut into the rock leading to his home, silence met his ears. He discerned no activity about the house; it almost seemed deserted. Perhaps Amber had already dismissed the servants in antic.i.p.ation of tomorrow's departure.

The downstairs rooms were indeed empty; boxes and packing cases stood piled in the entrance hall. The chambers echoed with his footsteps. William's eye fell upon a violet silk robe discarded on the stairs. It inexorably drew him up those stairs.

As William came into the chamber the unmistakable musk of s.e.x a.s.sailed his nostrils. His steps drew him close to the bed in fascinated horror. Amber's naked body was lush, still soft with surfeit, still warm with pa.s.sion, still damp with exertion.

Amber stirred in her dreamless sleep. She half awoke and stretched her naked limbs across the rumpled sheet. When her ears caught the sound of his step, her mouth curved softly. "Joseph?" she murmured.

As he stared at her, hearing the name she called, it all fell into place. William's face contorted with rage at the destruction of all the plans he had so carefully laid down. This filthy Irish wh.o.r.e had ruined his life! Not only had she been putting horns on him, but she had rutted with the man he had chosen to marry his daughter; the man he had just plotted to make the Earl of Kildare! It was as if the Irish were in a conspiracy against him. From the moment he had laid eyes on Amber FitzGerald, he had been cursed!

A bloodred tide of pa.s.sionate hatred engulfed him until insanity took possession of his brain. He gripped Amber by the scruff of her neck and rubbed her face in the s.e.m.e.n her lover had left upon the sheet. "You filthy Irish wh.o.r.e," he ground out, "f.u.c.king with another Irish pig in my bed! I'll kill you," he vowed.

Montague s.n.a.t.c.hed his riding crop from the bedchamber cup-h.o.a.rd where it always lay ready. The fear he saw in her eyes fueled his need to punish her for the sins she had committed against him. He lashed out at her violently, savagely, taking perverse pleasure in her screams. When she tried to protect her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her hands, he lashed out at her face. Her arms came up to shield her face and head, so Montague slashed at her body, over and over again.

Amber managed to roll from the bed to the floor, but there was no escaping his insane fury as he suddenly began to kick her. Amber's screams subsided into moans; her silence did not come until she lost consciousness.

"Get back to Ireland where you belong; you'll never see your children again."

Montague gave her one last vicious kick before he spat upon her, and left the chamber. Then he took out his keys and locked the door.

The full spate of his fury had by no means been spent. "John!" he roared at the top of his lungs. "Emerald!" he shouted, cursing aloud because he did not know their whereabouts. It incensed him that he had not been able to control his wife. In fact, the entire household was out of his control. Montague vowed he would immediately remedy that situation and went outside to search for them, calling their names in a voice that brooked no disobedience.

Down at the crystal cave Emerald heard the summons. A sense of foreboding came to her when she heard her father's voice. It was filled with fury and she knew someone would have to bear the brunt of his anger. Suddenly, she was afraid.

Earlier, she had seen Joseph O'Toole's ship on the horizon and had put as much distance between herself and the house as she could. Anger at her mother's shockingly wanton behavior almost consumed her. Now, however, that anger paled beside the fear she felt.

Her father wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow. What if he had caught her mother in the arms of Joseph O'Toole? Emerald picked up her towel and started toward the house with lagging steps, her heart beating so furiously, it almost deafened her. When she came in sight of the jetty, she was relieved to see that O'Toole's schooner had departed and that her father's ship was the only one in evidence.

William Montague saw his daughter before she saw him. He couldn't believe his eyes at her appearance. She wore only a damp shift that shamelessly exposed her body for the entire world to see. Her long dark hair hung down her back in wet strands and her limbs were entirely bare. She looked like a tinker's brat ... she looked Irish!

Emerald saw him striding toward her, brandishing his riding crop, his face purple with wrath. When he raised the whip, her feet became rooted to the path.

"Get in the house! Get some clothes on! Have you no shame! Is this how you've been allowed to run about the island?"

Further incensed at Emerald's failure to move, he screamed, "Now! Do you hear me, girl?"

His words galvanized her into motion. As she ran past him toward the house, he lashed out at her bare legs. She swallowed a scream and flew toward the house, panic beating wild wings inside her breast. She ran upstairs to her chamber, but she knew there was no escape from him and his terrible wrath. She heard his inexorable step upon the stairs and suddenly the terror she felt for her mother drowned the fear she felt for herself. She dragged on a dry petticoat and gown with hands that shook as if she were palsied. When his menacing presence filled her doorway, she swallowed another scream and whispered, "Where's Mother?"

She watched in horror as he was gripped by a spasm of uncontrolled rage.

"Never dare to utter her name again! The Wh.o.r.e of Babylon has gone! Run off with her filthy Irish lover! She is dead to me! Get aboard the ship, we are leaving immediately."

"Wh-where's Johnny?" she dared.

"I'll find him!"

When Montague lurched from the doorway and she heard his footsteps thudding down the stairs, she sagged to the bed. He had found out about her mother and Joseph O'Toole! What had happened in this house while she'd been hiding at the crystal cave? Surely her mother would never leave her and Johnny, she loved them far too much, didn't she?

Emerald began to cry softly. It's my fault she's gone. I wouldn't come near her, I looked at her with such loathing, she thought I didn't love her anymore.

How could her mother have run off with O'Toole? 1 low could she choose him over her children?

With great trepidation in her heart she crept from her room and climbed the stairs to the next floor, up to the wing where her mother's chamber was located. She turned the k.n.o.b and found the door locked. "Mother?" she cried softly, her mouth against the door.

There was no reply save silence. Had he killed her? She knelt down to the keyhole, saw only the rumpled, unmade bed, and got slowly to her feet. No. There was no one there. Emerald could barely believe it, but her father, in his rage, must have been telling the truth.

Emerald heard activity below and silently fled back to her own chamber. She gathered her belongings and placed them in a small wicker trunk. She pulled up her gown to examine the red welts on her legs left behind by her father's whip. They were puffy and swollen. Her mother would know exactly which herb would take away the pain, except of course her mother wasn't there.

Emerald covered her legs with stockings, slipped on her shoes, and stole a glance at the mirror. Her hair was half dry now, its natural curl springing into hundreds of tiny spirals. She took a final look about her chamber. She had been happy here where she had enjoyed the freedom of sand and sea and sunshine.

Happy, that is, until that fateful day she had gone to Ireland. That was the day her world turned to ashes. d.a.m.n you, Mother, d.a.m.n you for being Irish!

Emerald carried her trunk downstairs and saw the crew of the Swallow carrying the boxes from the entrance hall down to the ship. A cold hand seemed to clutch at her throat as she heard her father's voice, ranting and raving at Johnny as they came from the direction of the stables. When she saw her brother she was appalled; her father had used his riding crop on Johnny's face, splitting the skin across his cheekbone. He was so pale, she thought he might faint.

"Emerald," he croaked when he saw her.

"You will never call your sister by that ridiculous name again! Vulgar Irish fancy! I'll have none of it, do you hear me? From now on she will be plain Emma, a decent English name!" He looked at his daughter with loathing. "Get that ugly Irish hair covered, while you're at it!"

"Oh, Johnny, you're bleeding," she whispered.

"His name is John; I'll make a man of him if it kills him." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "If I find out the two of you conspired with your Irish wh.o.r.e of a mother so she could deceive me, I'll kill you both!"

Emma's stomach knotted painfully to hear her beloved mother vilified in this way. My G.o.d, Mother, why did you do it? Why did you betray us? How could you just run off with a boy young enough to be your son!

"Get aboard the Swallow! I can't bear the sight of either one of you. From this day forward I'll stamp out every last trace of Irish in you. I'll crush it out if I have to!"

8.

Rory FitzGerald's horse was white with lather as he rode into Greystones's yard. "Where's your father?"

Sean was about to upbraid his cousin for the way he'd used the horse, but he suddenly smelled trouble. "He's on a run to Belfast, what's amiss?"

"Jaysus!" Rory muttered as panic wedged in his throat.

"Come inside, Rory. Is it my grandfather?"

Rory nodded, almost afraid to tell anyone except the capable, down-to-earth Shamus O'Toole.

"Whatever's the matter?" Kathleen demanded the moment she saw Rory green about the gills.

"They've a warrant out for his arrest," Rory blurted.

"How many came to Maynooth?" Sean asked.

"Four soldiers in uniform. They searched the castle and the outbuildings and found the guns in the secret vaults."

Sean wished Rory had kept his mouth shut in front of his mother.

'if my father lets anything happen to himself, I'll kill him!"

"Hush, now. I'll find him. I'll get him out of the country," Sean pledged.

"Your father will have a rare fit if you get yourself involved, and no mistake!"

"Are the soldiers still at Maynooth?" Sean demanded.

"Two of them stayed to wait for him, the other two left with evidence."

Sean immediately sought out Paddy Burke and apprised him of the alarming news.

"d.a.m.nation, yer father has ostensibly gone for linen, but he's carrying messages between the earl and Wolfe Tone."

"If you know where my grandfather is, or how I can get a message to him, for G.o.d's sake tell me, Mr. Burke."

Paddy Burke hesitated; Shamus would have his b.a.l.l.s if his sons became involved in the Troubles.

"Mr. Burke, I have to get him out of Ireland. They're waiting to take him if he returns to Maynooth!"

"The Dublin connection is Bill Murphy in Thomas Street."

Sean was amazed that the father of the Murphy brothers was involved, yet he shouldn't have been, for both brothers were wed to FitzGeralds. "My mother's upset. I'm for Dublin, but I'll be back with news as soon as I may."

Sean was shocked to see Edward FitzGerald sitting large as life in Murphy's front parlor. "Grandfather, there's a warrant out for your arrest. The militia is waiting for you at Maynooth."

"Jaysus! I don't want ye involved in this; I'm surprised yer father sent ye, Sean."

"He didn't. He's on a run to Belfast. Young Rory came hotfoot to Greystones and my mother is beside herself with worry. I must get you out of Ireland while the ports are still open to you."

"If there's a warrant, the ports won't be open to me, and if the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds arrested me aboard your ship, it would kill yer mother."

"The Sulphur has a secret hold," Sean pressed, but he could see the stubborn set of the FitzGerald chin. "Then let one of the Murphy brothers take you across to France."

"I'm the Earl of Kildare, do ye think for one minute I'd let the English run me out of my own country? Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely!"

"That's just stubborn Irish pride! You know my father's motto: Always do what's expedient."

"Scan, lad, it our people are to survive, we must break England's stranglehold.

It's up to men like me. If an earl of the realm of Ireland doesn't take a stand, who will?"

"Then I'll stand with you," Sean declared.

"Ye'll not! You and Joseph are the next generation. If we fail, you are Ireland's only hope. If my generation fails at insurrection, your generation must try to achieve independence through diplomacy. Promise me ye'll keep Joseph out of this; ye know what a hothead he is."

Though Sean O'Toole was thoroughly frustrated by his grandfather's att.i.tude, he had to accept it. The Earl of Kildare was his own man, who made his own decisions, and Sean believed that was the way it should be. He went straight home to Greystones, hoping his father would return today. At least he was able to a.s.sure his mother that he had warned her father, and that Grandfather was safe for the moment.

He did not tell Kathleen of her father's stubbornness, but he did share the information with Paddy Burke.

The light was fading from the sky when Joseph arrived home from Dublin, where he had gone to buy new clothes for his trip to London. He burst into the house as if the devil were on his tail. One look at his ashen face was enough to tell them he had nasty news.

"It's all over Dublin that Grandfather has been taken!"