The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,17
That gives you an authority here in the village, adding weight even to an idle remark made in ill-considered jest. If you were overheard, the damage to Murphy’s reputation and business could be dire!”
For a moment, Connaught stared, looking taken back. Then his native wit rallied. “If what you say is true, Miss O’Flaherty, then you have given me yet another reason to want to leave Connaught as soon as possible. I do not think I could long endure in a place where a man must watch what he says to guard against offending a man he does not even know.”
Miss O’Flaherty’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing together.
Thomas saw her eyes flash with fire, and cast about for some distraction. “I am finding this walk a little challenging. Miss O’Flaherty, is there a bench somewhere that I might catch my breath and let the rest of you continue?”
Miss O’Flaherty swallowed. She turned away from her cousin. “There is a bench in the churchyard that offers a pleasant view of the church and grounds.”
“Will you show me it?” Thomas held out his arm.
“Delighted.” Miss O’Flaherty took his arm with a stiffness that belied her words.
“You asked about seeing our ruins, Mr Leighton?” Mrs O’Flaherty spoke. “Then let us go this way.”
The rest of the party moved on. Thomas and Miss O’Flaherty made their way towards the church, a stone building barely larger than the surrounding houses, only its spire giving it any claim to importance.
Miss O’Flaherty said nothing, but Thomas felt her tremble. “Are you all right, Miss O’Flaherty?”
“I hate him!” she spat. “The arrogance of the man—he does not care about any of us—about anyone besides himself! I hate him—I hate him!” And then, to both of their immense discomfort, Miss O’Flaherty burst into tears.
9
The Connaught village church was in the centre of a generous churchyard. A wooden frame draped in roses formed an archway leading to the stone church, while shrubs with bright flowers bordered the graveyard. The bench, beneath a venerable oak tree, was pleasantly shaded.
Miss O’Flaherty blew her nose on Thomas’s handkerchief. “I’m so sorry about carrying on like this. Nerves, I suppose. They just got the better of me.”
“I can imagine it’s been a very trying time.” Thomas looked out over the graveyard, pretending not to notice his companion’s distress. “Not only losing your uncle, but the uncertainty surrounding your future, and then three unexpected guests.”
“I don’t mind you and Mr Westaway,” Miss O’Flaherty said. “And Mr Leighton, for all his odd enthusiasms, is pleasant company. It’s better having you all here. I couldn’t imagine being alone at the castle just now.” Her mouth twisted. “Thank you for rescuing me. I was on the brink of saying something that I would regret.”
“The less said about that, the better. Besides, I needed to rest.” While walking to the church, his stomach ache had resurfaced. Thomas had been very glad to see the bench. He glanced at his companion. “I got the impression that you were desirous of leaving Connaught?”
She smoothed out the handkerchief, lips twisting. “Inconsistent of me, I know. I do want to leave, to do something with my life. But I cannot stand by and let Connaught be criticised by that—that man. It may be a provincial backwater, but it’s our provincial backwater. He has no right!”
“Hear hear.” Thomas drove the end of his walking stick into the ground in applause. “I could not agree more. But then I suppose that I am, at heart, a countryman.” He winced, the gesture setting off a fresh burst of pain.
“Are you all right?”
Thomas placed a hand on his stomach. “Winded. It will pass.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Rejoin the others so they don’t wonder at our absence. You can tell them you’ve left me admiring the view.”
“If you’re sure.” Miss O’Flaherty tucked his handkerchief into her pocket. “I wonder what Mr Leighton hopes to find at these old ruins. One sighting of the banshee is enough for anyone.”
“Two sightings.”
Miss O’Flaherty had started to turn away. She stopped. “What do you mean—two sightings?”
“You did not hear the reason for my collapse last night?”
She shook her head. “The first I knew was when Mama sent me to wake the housekeeper and have her prepare a compress for you. Did—” She licked her lips, eyes fixed on Thomas’s face. “Did something happen?”
“The banshee appeared again,” Thomas informed her. “Last night.”
Miss O’Flaherty stared at him. Her mouth contracted, the muscles in her neck taut as she swallowed. “But—that’s not possible.”