IT HAD BEEN an awful night, Grace filled with a deep sense of unease about Joe, poor Muriel in a terrible state, waiting for the sun to rise and the curfew to end so that she could visit MacDonagh.
Grace had a strange premonition that she must go to Joe immediately. Ever since she was a child she had had a sense of telepathy about things and she knew that she must act on it. Fate had brought her Joe’s letter, written in Richmond Barracks and delivered by a soldier to her parents’ home yesterday; Liebert had brought it over to her at Muriel’s.
Joe wrote telling her that the only thing he cared about was that he was not with her. He had heard that he would be sent to England, but said it might be possible for them to be wed by proxy and that she should go and talk to Father Sherwin about their marriage. Grace sensed that she should not delay …
Muriel was just getting ready to leave the house to go to Kilmainham to see MacDonagh when an early-morning bread-delivery van stopped outside. A priest got out of it and knocked on the door, asking to see her sister.
Grace’s heart sank. Had he word of MacDonagh?
Father Aloysius came inside and took Muriel by the hand. Gently, he told her that her husband, Thomas MacDonagh, had been executed by firing squad earlier that morning in Kilmainham Jail.
Muriel gave a strange piercing inhuman cry, her skin like alabaster, listening to his words, then she quietly asked the priest to repeat them, over and over again …
Father Aloysius had been with MacDonagh before he was shot and had given him the last rites. He told her how much her husband loved and cared for her and his two children – his last thoughts were of them – and that he died with no rancour or bitterness in his heart.
Grace felt as though her own heart would break with the sadness of it. She made tea and fetched a warm blanket, then held Muriel and tried to comfort her.
Father Aloysius told her that Padraig Pearse and Tom Clarke had also been executed that morning and that unfortunately, more executions of the rebel leaders were planned over the coming days.
Fearing that Joe, instead of being deported, would surely meet the same fate as his best friend MacDonagh, Grace knew she could not delay any longer.
Mary arrived and promised she would look after her distraught sister, who had finally begun to cry and weep for the loss of her beloved husband. Their brother Liebert, having heard the news of Thomas MacDonagh’s execution, also came to the house to see if he could do anything to help, promising Grace that he would stay with their sister.
Grace set off immediately to town to meet Father Sherwin, determined to try to get the necessary licence for Joe and her to wed. Father Sherwin advised her to talk to the priest in the same parish as Kilmainham – perhaps he was the one who could help organize a marriage in the prison. He gave her a note for Father Eugene MacCarthy, who was the prison chaplain, as he might be able to get permission from the governor of Kilmainham, Major Lennon, to perform the ceremony.
‘I have to get married to Joe,’ she confided to the priest tearfully as he promised to help them.
It was getting late and some of the shops on Grafton Street had begun to shut. Grace was keenly aware of the staff putting up shutters and winding back canopies, getting ready to lock doors as the final customers in their shops left. The large jewellery shop was still open and she glanced quickly at the tray of rings on display in their window before pushing the door open.
A man stood behind the counter covering the trays of expensive jewellery in heavy velvet cloths, ready to store them in the shop’s safe.
‘I’m sorry, but we are getting ready to close, miss,’ he said, barely looking up at her.
‘Please, I need to see your wedding rings,’ she said, trying to keep control of her voice.
‘I’m afraid I have put some of them away already.’
‘I saw some in the window – please may I see them?’
Reluctantly stopping what he was doing, he walked over to the window, leaned in and took out the velvet-lined tray, carrying it over to the dark mahogany counter and placing it in front of her.
‘Gold bands, rounded, and a few straight. Some young ladies like a traditional narrow band and others prefer it wider,’ he recited.
Grace touched the curving bands with her fingers.
‘May I try one or two of these rings on?’
The jeweller looked pointedly at the clock.
‘A marriage band is for life, the fitting and choice and purchase of which is not something usually to be rushed,’ he advised.
Grace blushed and swallowed hard, standing resolutely at his counter.
‘Please, I wish to try this one.’ She indicated a simple, narrow gold circle from the centre of the tray and he took it out and passed it to her. She put it on her finger, but it was far too big.
‘Try this one,’ he offered, handing her another ring.
It was still too big.
‘We usually size the ring to fit your finger exactly,’ he explained kindly. ‘I promise that it will only take us a few days to make one to fit you perfectly.’
Grace felt like crying and pointed urgently to two more rings.
One was tiny and only fitted her little finger; the other was a curving design which she did not like.
‘Please – you must have more,’ she begged, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice. ‘I need to buy a wedding ring today that fits me. I have to find one.’
The jeweller stopped and considered for a few seconds before putting the tray aside. She was clearly a lady of quality, so he went down to the far end of the shop and returned about a minute later with another cloth-covered tray which he set in front of her.
‘Have a look at these, miss. This one here is very popular with our brides. It is eighteen-carat gold and what we call a classic design.’
Grace went to slip it on her finger but it stopped at her knuckle. Disappointment threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Never mind, miss, I’m sure I have another that will fit,’ he offered, leaning over and studying the tray. ‘Try this.’ He pulled out a slim gold band.
Grace held out her hand and he slid the wedding ring smoothly on to her finger. He tried to move it back and forward. It wasn’t too tight and sat perfectly on her long, narrow finger.
Grace studied her hand with the gold band – her wedding band. It was just what she needed. As she looked at her finger she could feel tears welling up in her eyes and was filled with such a deep sadness at the absolute unfairness of it all and what might befall Joe. She began to shudder and cry.
‘I’ll take this ring,’ she sobbed, her voice breaking, aware of the man’s concern as he stared at her.
‘Weddings are a beautiful time but emotional for everyone. Why don’t I put this ring aside for your young man to come in and pay for it later in the week?’ he suggested. ‘Wrap it up all nice for him.’
‘Please, I have to buy the ring now,’ she insisted tearfully, slipping the band off her finger and giving it back to him. ‘He cannot come in, so I will pay for it.’
‘Very well, I will wrap it for you,’ he agreed slowly.
‘Please, I don’t need a fancy box – just something simple to carry it in,’ she said, shaking.
‘Are you all right, miss?’ he asked, worried, reaching under the counter for a small wine-coloured box. ‘Are you in trouble?’
She guessed that brides in such a state of upset and tears in his shop were a very rare occurrence.
‘Please do not cry, miss. I’m sure your wedding will be a fine, happy occasion. When is it to take place?’
‘I am to be wed tonight,’ she whispered.
‘Tonight?’ he repeated, puzzled.
‘My fiancé is Mr Plunkett. He is one of the rebels being held in Kilmainham,’ she explained slowly, awaiting his hostile reaction as she reached into her purse. ‘We are to be married there tonight, for I fear that he is to be executed.’
She gripped at the counter to steady herself as dizziness swamped her.
‘Oh my dear – I am so very sorry. The whole city is full of what happened to some of the leaders there this morning …’ He trailed off. His sheer kindness threatened to undo Grace as she found the notes and passed them to him.
As he wrote her a receipt in his book, Grace dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief, fighting to compose herself. He held the door open for her as she left.
‘Good luck, miss,’ he said gently as she turned her attention to getting to the prison to see Joe.