Flight of the Earls by Michael K. Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page A

to throat the burning liquid without flinching. Few passed the test.
    Da then began to mete out tobacco to everyone who had a pipe, which was nearly all. Hands reached up eagerly to receive his offering, and several of the women, including Fiona, partook as well.
    Clare sank into a chair she had brought from inside the house. It was painful to observe her father playing the merry host. She knew money would be life and death for her family, and she couldn’t bear to see him squandering it so lavishly for his own amusement.
    Suddenly, dogs barked and a carriage could be seen approaching down the road, barely visible in the fading light. Da put the leather tobacco bag in his vest and scurried out to greet the late arrivers.
    It was rare to see such a proper carriage in these parts of town. Every once in a while, the English landlords would come to survey their properties, but few of them would drive this far into these rutted, country roads.
    As the coach slowed to a halt, a well-attired driver pulled back on the reins of the two handsome black horses and engaged the brake. Da rocked on his heels with his arms behind his back as the crowd slowly gathered around and murmured with inquisitiveness. Even Clare was alive to the suspense of the moment.
    When the driver opened the door, the burnished boots of a woman slid out, followed by the hem of an exquisitely laced black dress. As the teamster reached out his arm for support, the woman emerged from the shadowed interior of the cabin. Her dark plumed hat contrasted with her pale complexion, and her aquiline nose and graceful poise gave her the appearance of one of great means. There was an audible collective breath of admiration for the mysterious visitor.
    â€œIf I may beg your attention,” announced her father with pomp. “Please allow me to introduce you to Madame O’Riley.”
    As the name rolled from his lips, there was a gasp from those who recognized it.
    The woman nodded and the gathering quieted to listen. “My apologies for being late in arriving. The conditions of your roads required a . . . rather patient approach.”
    Clare spoke in a hush. “Mrs. MacBrennan. Do you know who this is?”
    Fiona pulled a slender pipe out from the corner of her mouth and exhaled a billow of smoke away from Clare. “That’s the keener. If I recall the name properly, she’s well thought of, that one.”
    â€œMy father invited a keener?”
    â€œWhat’s a keener?” Caitlin asked, who was standing close to them.
    Clare leaned close to her younger sister. “It’s someone who has a gift in mourning.”
    Caitlin was perplexed.
    â€œThey’re paid to cry,” Clare added.
    â€œWhat kind of job is that?”
    â€œOne that pays well.” Fiona conjured a bright orange glow from the bowl of her long-stemmed pipe. “Your father must truly love you.”
    Da escorted Madame O’Riley to the ring of seats around the fire, where he waved others out of the way and placed her in the best chair. Clare observed a hint of disdain in the woman’s eyes in response to the crude environs. But she also noted something else about the guest. Her da treated her with a degree of familiarity. The alluring woman was more than an acquaintance.
    Clare lurked outside of the light of the fire, disinterested in the collective fawning of the keener. She sifted through possible excuses allowing her to slip away to bed, knowing their morning departure was close at hand.
    â€œDo you not approve of all of this?”
    Clare recognized Father Quinn’s voice before turning to see his all-knowing smirk. He had loosened his collar and for the first time tonight appeared relaxed. Was it the lateness of the evening, or the workings of the poteen in the glass he was holding?
    â€œOf course,” Clare responded. “Who wouldn’t want such a send-off?” The light from the fire shone intermittingly on his unconvinced