Part 21 (1/2)
He tried to keep his voice casual and offhand, but through his obvious exhaustion, she could almost feel his excitement.
”Emma, you can correct me if I'm wrong, but you might find some familiar names here.”
She looked down at the lists in her lap, afraid to touch them.
”My dear, it's silly of me, but I must insist that you breathe in and out,” she heard Lord Ragsdale saying from what seemed like a great distance. ”I found the Minerva and the Hercules!”
Chapter 20.
Impulsively, she took his face in her hands and touched her forehead to his. ”Somehow, I knew you would,” she murmured, and she meant it.
Lord Ragsdale picked up one of the lists and placed it in her hand. ”They were on the Hercules,” he said, unfolding the papers. ”Wouldn't you know I would go through the Minerva's list first.” He scanned the second page, and then ran his finger in practiced fas.h.i.+on down the second column. ”There.”
She looked where he pointed, read the name, and allowed herself to breathe again. ”David Upton Costello,” she read out loud. ”My lord, that is my father.”
”I thought as much. And look here,” he said, pointing farther down the list. ”There were several Costellos. Samuel-I cannot make out the middle name, but it starts with an A.”
”Ainsworth,” she said, touching the name. She folded the paper carefully, tenderly, then leaned against Lord Ragsdale's shoulder and closed her eyes, unable to say anything.
”They sailed in April of 1804,” Lord Ragsdale said as he put his arm around her shoulder. ”Now you know, Emma.”
She opened her eyes then and sat up, her mind suddenly full of questions. ”But where? How? What magic is this?”
He laughed at her and raised his hands as though to fend her off. ”For two people who think themselves at least more intelligent than dahlias, we were remarkably thickheaded on this one, Emma.”
”Tell me!” she demanded, ready to pluck at his sleeve like a child.
”During my third night in Bath when I was tossing and turning- oh, by the way, you may congratulate me on my forthcoming nuptials,” he said, interrupting himself.
”And I do congratulate you,” she replied, then looked at him shrewdly. ”And why, pray tell me, if you are so happily engaged, were you 'tossing and turning'?”
He was silent a moment, and she almost wished she had not asked. ”It is merely that I prefer my own bed here in London.” He tugged at her hair under its cap. ”That is none of your business and has nothing to do with my narrative!”
”Very well, my lord, pray continue.”
”It suddenly occurred to me that the most logical place to look for a s.h.i.+p bearing Irish convicts was Ireland itself.” He smiled at her openmouthed amazement. ”Impressive, ain't I?”
You went all the way to Ireland for me, she thought, even though you have sworn to me how seasick you get in a full bathtub, and I know you really do not care to exert yourself. ”Very impressive,” she said quietly. ”Lord Ragsdale, you are a wonderful man. Have I ever told you?”
In reply, he took her hand and kissed it. ”No, you have not, but it's nice to hear. I made up some fancy lie about business that could not wait, placated Clarissa with an obscene diamond-”
”I've seen it,” Emma interrupted, ”and you are right.”
”-And caught the next s.h.i.+p to Cork.” He pressed his hand to his stomach. ”I can only marvel how anyone survives a sea voyage. Emma, the things I have done for you . . .”
”I told you I was grateful,” she said, twinkling her eyes at him and holding the lists closer.
”Well, I combed the docks for any record of our missing s.h.i.+ps, but found nothing. It only remained for me to catch the mail coach to Dublin.” He looked up as the gallery clerk motioned to them, and then tapped his pocket watch. ”Emma, we're being ejected. Shall we?”
She put her arm through his and strolled with him into the gardens. She stopped then, and looked at him. ”How did you know I was here?”
He took her arm again and moved her in the direction of his curricle. ”Simple. I went to the bank, and the senior clerk said he thought he heard you tell the hackney driver to take you to Kensington.” He looked around him at the flowers. ”It's much nicer now than it was the first time I brought you here.” He sat her on a bench. ”Back to the story.”
”But, aren't you in a hurry to get home? This morning Miss Partridge mentioned something about a party.”
”There will always be a party,” he said, dismissing his fiancee somewhat callously, she thought. ”I want to tell you here.”
”Very well, then,” she replied, mystified.
”I went to Dublin.” He paused then, as if wondering how much to tell her.
Her hand went to his cheek. ”I want you to tell me everything, my lord,” she said simply. ”You just said that you would, and I have waited so long.”
”Of course.” He spoke quickly then, as though the news he bore pained him to the quick. ”I checked the records at Prevot. Your mother died of typhus, much as you had thought.”
She waited for the news to slap her, but she felt instead a peaceful calm. Mama must not have suffered long then, she thought. Ah, well, she is at rest now, and the soldiers cannot touch her.
”Eamon?” she asked.
He put his arm around her again. ”He was hanged in the Prevot Prison courtyard in October, about the same time Robert Emmet was beheaded.” He twined his fingers in hers, and she clung to his hand gladly. ”Emma, the United Irish dead, or Croppies, or whatever you want to call them, were all tumbled into a common grave. Do you know, it's become a shrine of sorts.” He smiled at the memory. ”d.a.m.ned if the British don't try and try to keep it from happening, but flowers are forever turning up on that mound.”
”I wish I could add mine,” she said softly.
He kissed her hand again. ”Consider it done, Emma. The guards there are really slow, even though I left a regular florist's shop.”
The tears came then, and she clung to him as he patted her back and let her cry. They were cleansing tears, and when she finished and blew her nose vigorously on the handkerchief that Lord Rags-dale always seemed to have ready, she knew she would not cry that way again. She would remember Eamon always, but she would not mourn him anymore, now that she knew a nation in the making held him dear, too.
Lord Ragsdale looked at the sky. ”I think we will continue this as I drive.” He stood up and held out his hand for her. ”I knew I would find the s.h.i.+ps' rosters in Dublin, and I did,” he said as he helped her into the curricle. ”Both s.h.i.+ps had Dublin registries.” He spoke to his horse, and they started back to Curzon Street. ”I actually spent an evening with the captain of the Hercules. He a.s.sured me that there was little loss of life on the voyage to Australia.” He looked at her. ”Of course, you won't know until you get there . . .” His voice trailed off. ”Emma, it's a long way.”
”I know.”
They were both silent for several blocks. ”I had to hurry back to Bath,” Lord Ragsdale said finally, continuing his narrative. He nudged her shoulder. ”By the way, I stopped in to see Fae Moulle's millinery shop, and it is a fine one. How pleased I am that you both cheated me.” He laughed out loud at the look she knew was on her face. ”She gave me a rather elegant bonnet for you, which I was hard put to explain to Clarissa.”
Emma joined in his laughter. ”You have my permission to give it to her as a wedding present.”
He nodded. ”I expect my wife will wear it,” he said enigmatically. ”But Emma, I have not finished my Irish tale.”
”What more can there be?” she wondered. ”Everyone is accounted for now.
”Not everyone, Emma.”
What can he mean? she thought as the traffic claimed his attention. I have no hidden relatives, waiting to give me a fortune so I can travel to Australia.
”I took the mail coach for the return trip to Cork,” he continued when the traffic abated.
He looked at her, and she found the expression unsettling. There is such tenderness in your face, she thought. There can be no more bad news, so it must be good news. ”I wish you would tell me,” she urged.