Thomas remained silent. No need to explain that in the study, after Trevlyn had finished his poignant request, Thomas had easily, almost eagerly, said yes, not only because he felt sorry for Lord Trevlyn, but because he, too, felt a compelling curiosity to see that rocky plot of land near Galway Bay.
Chapter 4
Evleen O’Fallon could not understand the feeling of discontent that had just swept over her. What’s the matter with me? she wondered. Wasn’t it Sunday afternoon and a balmy spring day? Wasn’t she out for a pleasant stroll with Timothy Murphy, the man she would probably marry? She should be bursting with joy at the very thought of marrying jolly, handsome Timothy, whose fleet of fishing boats made him one of the richest men in County Clare. No matter that she didn’t think she loved him. Of course I’ll be happy, she told herself. She would learn to love him later on. Other brides had doubts, yet after their weddings seemed content.
She and Timothy were taking their usual Sunday stroll along a promontory that jutted into Galway Bay. Usually her heart lifted when they came to this particular spot in the narrow dirt road where suddenly a grand view of both the ocean and sparkling Galway Bay lay revealed below, and it seemed she could see the entire Connemara Coast of Western Ireland, as well as practically clear across the ocean to lands far away. She felt no special thrill today, though. Timothy was pressing. She must give him her answer soon. And she would, too, even though a nagging feeling within her said she was making a mistake. But she must make the best of it. Timothy Murphy was a “catch,” everyone said so. And besides, her needy family was sure to benefit from her marriage to Timothy.
So there is no way out, she told herself firmly. Besides, her troubles were nothing compared to some, and she should stop vacillating.
Evleen stopped, shaded her eyes and peered to the north-west. “It’s so clear you can see the Aran Islands today, and Connemara and North Clare.” She turned to the east, where the extensive sand and mud flats of Ballyvaughn lay exposed at low tide. This was springtime, when migrating birds stopped to feed before heading to their breeding grounds. Evleen pointed overhead at a majestic V-formation of geese flying out to sea. “Look, Timothy, those are Brent Geese going home. Just imagine, they’re flying all the way to arctic Canada.” Her heart lifted and she smiled. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could grow wings? We could fly all the way to Canada... China... South America... any place we pleased.”
“Are you daft?” Timothy’s usually cheerful face furrowed in a frown. “I’ve fish to catch and a business to run. Sure an’ I wouldn’t have time for such foolishness.”
“But I didn’t mean literally...”
Why finish? What was the use? She must learn to overlook Timothy’s shortcomings and concentrate on the good things. He was, after all, a pleasant man, not half bad-looking with his open, smiling face, full head of curly dark hair, broad shoulders and impressive height. He was well-educated, too, at least compared to most of the men in County Clare, and had even attended Trinity College in Dublin for a year. Still, Timothy was a simple man, engrossed in making a living with his fishing fleet. Evleen had long-since discovered he had little interest in poetry, art, or music, in other words, all the things she loved.
Marriage with Timothy Murphy would be dull, indeed, but at least she would be secure.
And it was what Mama wanted.
“Where would you find a finer man than Timothy Murphy?” Mama asked but yesterday. “Isn’t he the vicar’s son? Doesn’t he earn a good income with those fishing boats he owns? Doesn’t he go to church like clockwork every Sunday? Doesn’t he stay home with his dear old mother every night instead of drinking himself blind at The Shamrock and Thistle?” Mama wagged her finger. “Young ladies of twenty-four had best not be too choosy.”
“But in Dublin...” She stopped herself and said no more. Nothing would be gained by a another futile recollection of happier days long gone.
Mama didn’t let Evleen’s words go unnoticed and said softly, “Ay, you could have had your pick of society’s finest, back when we were rich. But we’re not in Dublin anymore, and we’re not rich anymore.”
You’re right, Mama, we’re poor—oh, so very, very poor, thanks to the Englishman. Evleen smiled up at Timothy. She