Page 58 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“What happened, Emma?” he asked, feeling like abrute in the face of her torment. “Why didn’t Eamon go to Oxford?”
“Because he was dead by fall, or I think he was. Oh, John, I don’t know! I have spent over five years not knowing, and it is killing me.” Her words came out in a rush, as though they had been dammed up years ago.
She loosened her grip on his hand but did not let go. He put his other hand over hers too.
“Then tell me, Emma.”
She nodded. “We never involved ourselves in Irish troubles, my lord,” she said. “Da always said it was not our fight. After the ’98, he severed any connections any of us had to the Society of the United Irish. Some of our neighbors belonged, but Da said to leave it alone, and we did.”
“Are you Catholic, Emma?” he asked.
“Aye, me and two of my brothers. Eamon and Da were Presbyterian.” She released his hand then and wiped her eyes again with the soaking handkerchief. He looked in his drawer for another and handed it to her. She accepted it with a brief smile.
“I suppose he thought we could rub along and not get involved,” she continued, and her voice took on an edge. “And we would have, except that I blundered. What happened then is all my fault.”
She bowed her head, as though the weight of her pain was too great. He moved closer and touched her hair, his hand going to the back of her neck and then her shoulder. She leaned her cheek against his hand for a moment, as if seeking strength.Strength from me, he thought in wonder.Emma, this does reveal the measure of your desperation.
“Tell me,” he urged.
She straightened up then but would not look at him. He could sense the shame in her, the godly sorrow that went beyond bone deep, and it touched him as nothing ever had. “Emma,” he said.
“Timothy—my younger brother—was ill with a cold.Da, Eamon, and Sam were away on estate business. I was in charge because Mama was asleep from tending Tim all night. Oh, John, I can’t,” she said. “Don’t make me.”
“You have to, Emma,” he insisted, feeling like a churl.
She rose and went to the window, looking out for the longest time. He turned to watch her profile, and he knew that the view she saw was not the one he was familiar with out that same window.
“He came walking to the house at dusk. I remember the time, because I had just lit the lamps and told the cook to wait dinner until Da and my brothers returned.”
“Who, Emma?” he asked.
She turned to look at him then. “Robert Emmet, my lord.”
Suddenly he remembered. “Castle Hill,” he said.
Emma nodded. “He told me his carriage had broken down on the road from Cash and asked if he could stay the night. I ... I let him in.”
She turned back to the window and raised her fist as though to strike the glass. He leaped to his feet and grabbed her hand before she did herself an injury. She began to weep again, and he pulled her onto his lap, holding her so tight that he could almost feel her sobs before they came. He listened to her sorrow and began to understand. He kissed her hair and kept her close.
“Of course you did, Emma. I am sure your mother always taught you to help those in trouble. But you didn’t have any idea who he was, did you?”
She shook her head. “No. It was just a name to me then. I told him he could stay and be welcome too. He said it would only be for the night.”
He searched his mind, trying to recall the Castle Hill revolt just outside of Dublin and Robert Emmet’s attempt to stage a rising. If he remembered right, it had fizzled and come to nothing.
“How old were you?” he asked, marking time and trying to help her calm down.
“I was nineteen, my lord. My little brother, Tim, was five.” She was silent a moment more, and he could feel her relax slightly. He loosened his grip on her but kept his arm about her waist.
“When your father returned. . .,” he prompted.
“Oh, he and my brothers welcomed him too, and they sat a long time over port when dinner was done.” She laughed bitterly. “Papa told me later they talked about hunting and fishing and Mr. Emmet’s fiancée who lived close by. He said he was on his way there when his carriage broke down. Of course, Papa never saw a broken carriage on the Cash road, but he didn’t think of it at the time.”
She realized then that she was sitting on his lap and put her hands to her cheeks. “I am sorry, my lord. Please forgive me for being so forward!”
He smiled at her. “I put you there, Emma, and I believe I will keep you there.”
He thought she would leap off his lap then, but she did not. She settled herself against him like a puppy seeking warmth. “He stayed the night, and then he was gone by morning light.” She stared straight ahead then. “He was arrested by government troops at the entrance to our estate. I think they must have watched us all night.” She shook her head and made an impotent gesture with her hand.
