“Or I kill him,” mused Lord Burke quietly.
Chapter 6
Skye’s son, Ewan, was born in early spring. Eibhlin helped deliver her new nephew, having come to the O’Flahertys’ immediately after Twelfth Night. Eibhlin was shocked by the poverty of the O’Flahertys’ tower house. Anne had, of course, repeated Skye’s descriptions of her home, but the nun had assumed that Skye’s bitter disappointment over her marriage caused her to exaggerate. Now she saw that everything Anne had reported was dismayingly true.
The masonry of the tower house was in poor repair and there were drafts everywhere. The floors were covered by nothing except dirty, much-used rushes. The few wall hangings were threadbare and virtually useless for warmth, let alone comfort. The furniture was sparse as well. Eibhlin was puzzled. She knew that her father and stepmother had sent a number of fine pieces along to Skye, but when she questioned her younger sister all she got was a mumbled answer about Gilly and Dom and their endless debts.
Having her sister with her made it a happy winter for Skye. Ewan’s birth was a relaxed and easy one, and Eibhlin left four weeks afterward. She returned within several months to aid her sister once again, for Skye’s second son, Murrough, was separated from his brother by but ten months.
Murrough made his entry into the world during a brutal midwinter storm. Fortunately this birth was also an easy one, for Eibhlin had other factors beside the baby to contend with. The strong winds had blown so hard that the floors of O’Flaherty House were covered with half an inch of snow in some places. It had blown through cracked walls and the sheepskin-covered windows. The fires had gone out several times, and Eibhlin had been hard-pressed to keep her sister and the newborn boy warm and dry. Eibhlin was angry. She was ashamed that her sister should live this way. Skye’s dowry gone to pay gaming debts, or for wine, or to buy gifts for the women Dom and his father amused themselves with. Eibhlin made herself a vow: Skye would have no more babes, especially so quickly, until Dom grew up and took his responsibilities seriously.
“Ten months between babes is too soon,” she scolded. “Now you must rest at least a year or two before conceiving again.”
‘Tell Dom,” said Skye weakly. “He’ll be on me within the month. Despite his whores, he harbors a constant lust for me. Besides, I thought I could not conceive as long as I nursed Ewan.”
“An old wives’ tale that has done more harm than you can imag- ine,” replied Eibhlin. “And I shall talk to Dom myself. Then I’ll give you the recipe for a potion that will prevent conception.”
“Eibhlin!” Skye was both amused and shocked. “And you a nun! How on earth do you know such things?”
“I have as much knowledge as a doctor,” replied Eibhlin. “More perhaps, since I have also learned midwifery and herbal medicine from the old ones. Doctors scorn these things, but they are wrong to do so. I can tell you several ways to prevent conception.”
“But does not the Church forbid such wicked practices, my sis- ter?”
The nun answered forcefully, “The Church has not seen innocent babes dying of starvation because there are too many mouths in the family to feed. They have not seen little children and their sickly mothers freezing to death, blue with the cold, because there are not enough blankets or clothes in the hovels they call houses-not even food or wood for warmth! What do the well-fed priests and bishops, snug in their stone houses on this snowy night, know of these poor souls and their endless torments?
“I help where I can, Skye. For those innocent and superstitious poor I offer a ‘tonic’ to help them regain their strength after the ordeal of several births. They know not what I give them. If they did, they would not take it because they truly believe the Church’s threat of eternal damnation. You, sister, are not so foolish.”
“No, Eibhlin, I am not. And I want no more of Dom’s children. I will not be made old before my time, nor shall I nurse this child knowing what I do now. One of Dom’s women gave birth but a month ago. She has breasts like udders, and it will amuse me to have her nurse both Dom’s’ son and his bastard. She can live in the nursery with both boys and have Ewan’s wet nurse for company.”
“You’ve grown hard, Skye.”
“If I were not, Eibhlin, I should not be able to survive in this house. You have been here enough to know what the O’Flahertys are like.”
The nun nodded. “Have you had any luck in finding a husband for Claire?”
“None, and I’m not likely to unless I can convince Da to dower her. Gilly and Dom have gambled away the dowry left to Claire by her mother. There’s nothing left. And if I didn’t know better, I would swear she was a half-wit, for she cares not. The few young men who have come calling have been met with indifference. One is too fat, another too lean. This one is a buffoon, but that one lacks a sense of humor. One is too ardent in his wooing, and another has no blood in his veins. I don’t understand her at all! She has no religious vocation, no passion for anyone so far as I can see. Nor does she seem to desire to control her own life, as I did. She cares for nothing.”
“Perhaps she is merely content to stay with her father and brother. Some women are like that.”
Skye looked candidly at her sister. “Do you really think Claire O’Flaherty is like that, Eibhlin?”
“No,” came the quick reply. “She’s a sly and secretive girl for all she looks like an angel. There is something…” and here Eibhlin hesitated, loath to criticize yet genuinely concerned. ‘There is some- thing unwholesome about Claire,” she finally finished.
Skye agreed. But there seemed nothing she could do with Claire unless she could find a husband for her. What bothered Skye most was that Claire always appeared to be laughing at her, hugging some secret to herself that she would not share with anyone else, least of all Skye.
Eibhlin soon left to return to St. Bride’s, but she talked to Dom first. He said later, “Since your sister tells me your health will suffer if I get another son on you, you can hardly complain if I seek diversion elsewhere.”
“Have I ever complained before?” she asked him, amused, hiding her delight in the knowledge that she would be spared.
“Nay, you’re a good lass, and you’ve given me two fine boys.”
Skye smiled sweetly, and bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Dom saw her only as a credit to himself. She had become, he thought, exactly what he’d always wished her to be-a gracious chatelaine and a good breeder. He was willing to be generous now, to leave her alone for the time being.
Her life now took on a sameness, giving her the peace she craved. She worked to run the estate so that it supported them all and still paid the MacWilliam his annual tribute as their overlord. Neither Dom nor his father cared what she did as long as they had the time and the wherewithal to pursue their own pleasures.
She drove her peasants hard, though she was fair. Used to the laxity of the O’Flahertys, they had gotten out of hand. At first they resented her, but when winter came and the peasants found them- selves warm, dry, and well fed for the first time in years, they blessed their lady. She had managed the miracle of preparing them for winter.
Then Ewan was past two, and Murrough sixteen months, and one day Skye realized that in all those sixteen months Dom still hadn’t come near her. Silently she blessed the woman or women who were keeping her husband amused. And it came to her that it had been many months since she had heard any gossip linking Dom with any particular woman. It was a disquieting thought.