Page 190 of The Missing Sister
Nuala opened her mouth to speak, but Christy hushed her.
‘Lord Bandon needs feeding; we’ll not have him reporting back that we treated him badly, like so many of ours have been when they’ve been “guests” of the enemy. Can you be making some food for him?’
‘Me? Make food for Lord Bandon? The man is used to the finest salmon, fresh from the Innishannon River, and freshly slaughtered meat from his herd of prize cattle. I can hardly make him turnip soup now, can I?’
‘I’d say that some well-cooked Irish food is exactly what the man needs. Just be remembering that he’s human and shits and pisses like the rest of us, despite his grand life. I’ll be taking that brack cake away up, if that’s all right with you.’
Christy scooped it off the cooling tray.
‘Get your filthy hands off that!’ Nuala grabbed it from him, then found a square of muslin to wrap it in. ‘Will I be adding a pat of butter to go with it?’
‘Whatever you think is right. ’Twill do for his tea at least. I’ll be back tomorrow for his lunch. Bye now.’
Christy left and Nuala watched him walk towards the schoolhouse, then turn right by the church.
Nuala reckoned she knew exactly where they were hiding Lord Bandon. The question was, was her husband with him?
That afternoon, using her precious supply of flour, Nuala made a potato and ham pie. She was nervous about the result because she was unaccustomed to making pastry, but the top came out as golden as you’d like. She’d just set the pie down on the kitchen table to cool when there was a knock on the door.
‘I’m here, Christy. Just let yourself in, will you?’ she shouted as she concentrated on trimming the extra crust off the pie.
‘Hello, Nuala.’
She turned round, the knife still in her hand.
‘Nuala, please, I come here in peace, I promise. And in secret.’
The woman removed the hood of her long black cape from her head. ‘Lady Fitzgerald?’ Nuala whispered in utter shock.
‘Please, don’t be frightened, I’m not here on business of my own, I’m here to pass on a plea for mercy from a very good friend of mine.’
Lady Fitzgerald set a wicker basket down on the table as Nuala, still holding the knife, went to the front window to check there were no military using Lady Fitzgerald as a decoy, waiting to break down the front door and arrest and torture her until she told them what she knew about Lord Bandon.
‘I have come alone, Nuala, I swear. I even walked here all the way from Argideen House, so that none of my family or servants would know of my movements. May I sit down?’
Nuala gave a slight nod and indicated the one comfortable chair they owned.
‘I know you have me down as the enemy, and have learnt to trust no one, but please, I beg you, you are the one person who understands what I’ve been through.’ Lady Fitzgerald’s eyes filled with tears, and Nuala knew she was thinking of Philip. ‘And I’m here to talk to you today because of the bond that we forged, woman to woman. We are both risking a lot by my being here, I know, but in my cape, with my hair unpinned’ – Lady Fitzgerald gave a sad smile – ‘I’d doubt even my husband would recognise me.’
Nuala thought Lady Fitzgerald looked so very pretty, with her long blonde hair falling in waves on either side of her face. Her lack of make-up or jewellery showed off her natural beauty, making her look younger and more vulnerable.
‘I am begging you to trust me,’ Lady Fitzgerald continued. ‘And you should know that I have tried to protect you and your family. Even though you and your husband are suspected, your cottage has never been raided, has it?’
‘No. Well, if that’s to do with you, then thank you.’
Nuala stopped short of saying ‘your ladyship’, and showing the appropriate courtesy to an English gentlewoman. Even if Lady Fitzgerald had been kind to her, the atrocities committed in her and her husband’s and every other British person’s name made the words stick in her throat.
‘What can I be doing for you?’ she asked.
Lady Fitzgerald eyed the pie. Then her eyes moved back to Nuala.
‘A very good friend of mine came to visit me this morning. She told me that her husband had been taken hostage by the Irish, and was being kept by them in retaliation for the executions of IRA prisoners in both Cork and Dublin jails. She said that an ultimatum has been issued by the IRA, saying that if there are any further shootings of their volunteers, they will kill her husband.’ There was a slight pause before Lady Fitzgerald said, ‘I think we both know who I’m talking about.’
Nuala sat in silence, her lips pinned together.
‘That’s a very fine pie, Nuala. Are you expecting company, or is it for... another?’
‘’Tis for my neighbour, who is bedridden next door.’
