They were her family, as much as her father.
For a long time they stood that way, clinging to each other. In the back of Maura’s mind was that same sensation as when she woke…that something was different. Yet still it eluded her.
Finally, Maura drew back, searching Jen’s face. There were new wrinkles there—and it was something she had never noticed until now. With her thumbs she traced them, tiny grooves etched into the housekeeper’s cheeks. To Maura they were not wrinkles of age, but those of beauty—a beauty that came with life and loving and giving—beauty that bespoke her character and goodness and spirit.
“I shall not be going anywhere, Jen.” Maura sniffed, striving for a smile and succeeding. “Why, the only young men I know are most certainly not dashingly handsome. Those I know of the male gender are still throwing stones at their sisters! So I’m hardly ready to acquire a husband or become a bride.” She stuck out her tongue, making Jen laugh even as the housekeeper wiped away her tears with the corner of her apron.
Castle McDonough was her home, Maura thought. In truth, she could not imagine ever leaving the land of her ancestors.
They hugged again, then parted ways as Maura continued down the hall. She’d heard her father call for his newspaper—the footsteps on the stairs had been Murdoch delivering it. The newspaper from Derry was usually a day or so late, but it was the earl’s habit to read the news and sip a leisurely cup of tea before venturing downstairs for breakfast. Maura rapped lightly on the door to wish her father good morning.
There was no response.
She rapped once more. When he didn’t answer, she opened the door and poked her head inside. “Papa,” she said laughingly, “I do believe you and Jen have contrived to play games with me—”
She broke off.
“Papa?” she whispered, and then it was a cry. “Papa!”
Her father stared at her, an expression such as she had never seen before on his face. Shock, surely. And…something else. Something she couldn’t define. He was white as snow. The newspaper he had been reading fluttered to the floor, while the earl struggled to push himself to his feet.
Maura rushed forward, screaming for Murdoch. She managed to wedge a shoulder beneath her father’s just as he would have pitched forward. Wrapping her arms around him, sheer force of will helped to keep him upright—her father was not a small man—until Murdoch arrived to help him to his bed.
Her father fell back. His skin was ashen. He tried to rise, then fell back again. He sought to speak, yet could not.
Maura laid a hand on his chest. “Shhh,” she soothed. “Stay where you are, Papa. Let it pass.”
But whatever had overtaken him, he fought it. She sensed it; saw it in the anger and frustration and myriad expressions that chased across his face. His lips parted. Once again he sought to speak.
Maura took a deep breath, steadying herself even as panic loomed. She had never seen him like this.
She glanced back at Murdoch, who stood beside the bed. “Summon a physician,” she said, keeping her voice low. She was aware that fear lay vivid in her eyes as she looked at Murdoch,but she revealed no sign of it in her tone. Nor would she allow her father to see it.
All at once she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She laid her fingers on his forehead. He burned with fever. His eyes squeezed shut, then opened. He gazed at her, through eyes as green as the fields in the valleys far beyond—eyes the color of hers. All at once they clouded over.
“You know what this is, Maura. You know.”
“You’ve taken a chill, Papa. That is all—”
“It is always thus for the lords of McDonough. You cannot fight it, child. You cannot stop it. It happened just this way to my father, and my father’s father before him. Death, without warning. Death, so unexpected, to the lords of McDonough. Since the time of Randall O’Donnell, grandfather to my grandfather!”
Anguish twisted across his face.
“Ah, Maura!” His cry of regret was almost pitiful. “The McDonough were once among the most powerful clans in Ireland, lass—our home, Castle McDonough, a powerful stronghold, safeguarded by our blessed Circle of Light. But no longer. Why, not for…what? A hundred years or more—no, nearly two! Two hundred years since the night the Circle was stolen from our church by that blackguard, the Black Scotsman!”
Behind her, where Jen hovered, Maura heard the other woman suck in a breath. From the corner of her eye she saw Jen cross herself. It had been thus throughout her life. Even now,those who still remained on the land of the McDonough crossed themselves at the very mention of the Black Scotsman’s name.
Inside, Maura trembled. To hear him speak so…A sickening rush of certainty swept over her. Always, he was hearty and robust. Always. Now, to see her father like this…to hear him speak with such anguish…it was like a knife in the heart. Despair encircled her. She tried to stave it off. She would not be weak. She must be strong for both of them.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Papa, it is only—”
“Nay, child. It is not myth. Not legend. You know it as well as I! From the night the Circle was stolen, a shadow stole across our lands, the lands that belonged to our family—to the earls of McDonough! My grandfather spoke of it—how the rolling fields of our valleys, so fertile and thick with crops, grew ever more barren, year after year. Sorrow and misfortune have been our legacy.”
She knew of what he spoke. The Circle. The Circle of Light. God, she almost hated it.
It spun through her mind how the church had been laid waste by fire nearly a hundred years ago. It was rebuilt by the people, for this was the church of the ancients, the church of St. Patrick. But then a fierce windstorm such as the isle had never known blew it to the ground. Again it was rebuilt, but even then those who had been loyal to the clan for centuries began to depart, family by family. And when the Famine spread across the land, there were some who believed the curse had spread across the whole of Ireland.
If only she could refute it. But she could not. She had only to climb high to the hills to see it, to know it for the truth.
