Page 3 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“…and him not just your brother but your very own twin. I should think that you would have no love lost for the English crown and whatever Duke sees fit to live at Ravencliff. I had thought, truly, you were a genuine patriot, a lover of the cause. Have I not heard myself, you say that the English should go home?” Her father took out his pipe and filled it with tobacco as he spoke.
“I have but—”
Her father got up and went to the fire to light his pipe, paying her no mind at all as he did so, as if everything he said was a foregone conclusion. “I should think that you would be willing to at least do us the courtesy of giving us a true answer before you attend to your shopping. For I would no keep you from your work, gal. Especially if you was intendin’ on going out to the castle tomorrow.”
“I…” Alicia clutched the handle of the basket so tight that it was a wonder it didn’t snap.
Kathleen barked a laugh. “She is right feared, I should think,” she called. “If you would have asked me, I could be there now to welcome His Grace home properly,” she called, rising and bobbing in a mocking curtsey.
“As if you would fit in such fine surroundings as that,” a man shouted and Kathleen laughed with them, for she knew as well as anyone there that her coarse manners and impatient, even brash speech would never get past the steward of that esteemed household.
Alicia lifted her chin. She was not afraid, nor was she any less of a patriot than anyone there. It was true that her brother had died at the hands of the British, or as good as. “Only to watch. To see what he does?” she asked, turning her attention to the man in the shadows who had so far not spoken.
Until now Patrick Hurley had stayed silent. He stood, unfolding his long limbs and rising to his full height—near six feet tall, it was said. As he stepped from the corner, the room fell silent. There was none there who did not fear him at least a little.
A shock of dark hair fell over his forehead, not quite obscuring the long scar that started near the hairline and traveled down his left cheek, tugging at his eyelid, giving him a strange, drooping expression. That face was somber now as he surveyed the group, each in turn, his gaze finally coming to rest on Alicia and her father.
“You should already have been in place,” he said, his dark eyes coming to rest on her. “The Duke has returned, and we do not have an individual within his household we can trust.”
“We did not expect him so early,” Robert said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “She was going to the manor early tomorrow to see about the job. You have my word on it that I will see that she gets there.”
Alicia shot her father a glance. “I have not—”
“Hush, gal, you are not understanding the situation,” Robert spoke out of the side of his mouth, the words little more than a whisper. He nudged her now toward the door. “In fact, she is leaving to take care of a few small matters. In preparation for her going.”
A moment ago, Alicia had urgently wanted to leave. Now she had no desire to. She looked around the room, feeling heavy suspicion toward these men settle in the pit of her stomach. The somber and somewhat furtive expressions on their faces, alongside the contempt and hatred that her father had shown for the new Duke had left her uneasy, and more than a little unsettled.
I thought I knew what this is about. But to risk so much. To speak so…
Alicia shuddered. Her father had talked casually about causing the Duke an accident. Surely, he must have been speaking in jest.
“You wish me to work in the manor and report back what I observe the English doing. The way Elspeth had,” Alicia said, her voice firm. Elspeth had been a friend of hers, and her job had been relatively simple. Her duties had been fairly small, minor things. She’d listened to the family, letting the members of the Ribbonmen know their comings and goings and little else.
Her father started to answer, but Patrick raised a hand to silence him. “We do,” he said, studying her intently.
Would it be so terrible to agree to this? Elspeth had not minded. She’d quit a fortnight back, very suddenly, when Carey had proposed rather unexpectedly. Elspeth was back home, planning for her wedding even now, else she would have stayed to continue the work.
Maybe it would not be so bad. Sure, the work would likely be hard, but there was a certain pleasure to be had in looking after fine things, and was it so very difficult to report on the comings and goings of a handful of people?
The Ribbonmen were all watching her carefully now. So named for the green ribbon that each wore, some more noticeably than others, the Ribbonmen were true sons of Ireland, fighting the English landowners, for their rights. She well remembered the day her brother had come home with a bright green ribbon in his buttonhole. The English had taken him from her. Was it not her turn to finish the work her brother had started?
Oddly enough, it was the eyes of the Duke she remembered as she took a breath and answered, “I will do it.”
A cheer met her words, but Patrick stared at her with a solemn expression. There was something darker there in his gaze that caused her to shudder. She had never liked him much, nor trusted him, though her father did. She glanced over at her father now, seeing the look of heavy satisfaction upon his face.
So he is proud of me now, when I agree to risk life and limb for a cause that is as likely as not doomed to fail?For she knew well that the entirety of their cause was within these four walls. There was very little that two dozen Irishmen could do to a Duke or his estate.
It was an unsettling thought, one that had preyed upon her ever since they’d asked for her to act as their spy, and to do their bidding. Sure, although she knew there were other such groups across Ireland, they’d grown more cautious of taking action. Perhaps that was why the likes of Patrick thoughtthisvillage needed to be the one to take the first step, to strengthen a waned resolve. Maybe then, with that fire reignited, it was possible that someday they could be rid of the English invaders who had taken their land, along with their rights, so many years before.
I was seven,she remembered. Seven since she was trulyGaeilge. Irish. Seven when Great Britain had made themselves their masters. Had life truly been so different then? There had been a different Lord at Ravencliff then but hadn’t life in the village been very much the same as it was now?
Had Adam not been so fierce in his beliefs, she would have thought the whole thing foolish. Her brother had dreamed of a free Ireland. Enough so that he had joined the Ribbonmen in a battle for it.
As though reading her thoughts, someone began singing what had fast become their anthem, a ballad telling of the great Battle of Garvagh. Though it had hardly been great, or even a battle. Truth be told, the whole thing had been a rout, with a man dead, and the others of the uprising sent to the penal colony in Australia. Her brother had died on board ship. He had only been 15 at the time.
In the meantime, it was well past time for her to go. The inn was too noisy, and there was a loud desperation to this particular celebration, as though what she was doing would matter in some way that she did not understand. Alicia looked for her father and saw him drinking with his friends, talking expansively, foolishly, about how life would be different someday.
She shook her head and gathered her basket close that she might escape the confines of the taproom, back out into the sun. There would be much to do if she were leaving tomorrow.
