Chapter 58

Sean watched in horror as the color drained from Moira’s face. He scanned the kitchen for another chair. Someone read his thoughts and handed him one from across the room. He set it behind Moira and eased her to sit, then he turned his attention back to Buach.

“Ye’re not makin’ any sense, auld man.” Sean resisted the urge to shake him again.

“We were aimin’ fer the teacher.” Buach nodded in Moira’s direction. “If I’d o’ t’ought fer one second we’d hurt Colm . . .” His face screwed up, causing his wayward tooth to protrude even farther, as new tears poured down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Peg. Please, ye must fergive me.”

A hand on his arm drew Sean’s attention away from Buach. “But why? Why did you seek to harm me?” Moira’s strained voice was almost more than Sean could bear.

She stepped forward, recognition registering in her eyes. “‘That woman running her mouth,’” she said softly before crouching to look Buach in the eye. “Were you talking about my mother? Did she do something to you?”

Buach’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Aye.”

“But why? Why treat me so poorly?” Moira asked.

“Because you deserved it,” answered a voice from the doorway.

Confusion twisted Moira’s face as Lady Williams entered the room.

“Explain yerself, madam,” Sean said.

“Because of you.” Lady Williams sniffed at Moira in contempt. “Because of your tart of a mother, my daughter was overlooked to marry John Adair.”

Moira looked confused as she rose from her crouch. “I beg your pardon, milady, but I fail to see how something my mother did to Buach twenty years ago would be an obstacle to your dauther’s marriage, nor how it warrants harm to me.”

Lady Williams sighed and moved closer to Moira. Her bony hands rested on her hips. “Your mother was a housemaid at Glenveagh Castle for the Adair family. Their son, John, only visited during his holidays from university. He and my daughter had supped at the Adair table on many occasions, and it was said that he was going to propose to my Grainne at summer’s end that year.”

Sean noticed a few women rolling their eyes, but they seemed too interested in this latest twist of gossip to protest. He knew this story as well. Lady Williams had made no secret of the supposed impending engagement, but it had been widely disputed by those who would have been more privy to such information.

Moira crossed her arms over her chest. “And my mother’s position as a housemaid factors into this how?”

“She was caught in quite the compromising situation with John.” Lady Williams looked around the room, as if to survey the response to this accusation. When shock failed to register with the crowd, she continued, “A short time thereafter, your mother fled in her disgrace to America, while John was forced to leave Gweedore forever to avoid the shame that hussy had brought upon his household. He never again returned to Glenveagh, and my daughter lost the wealthiest marriage prospect she’d had.”

A heavy silence filled the room as the crowd mulled over Lady Willams’s story, each person presumably trying to connect the dots between her, the Adairs, and Moira.

Moira’s eyes widened. “You . . . you blame me for Mr. Adair not marrying your daughter?”

“Don’t you see?” The woman’s voice rose far louder than was prudent for a lady. “You are the fruit of the sordid affair. It is because of you that Noreen fled, bringing further shame upon the Adair name. You were the catalyst for the rejection that befell my family. Someone had to pay. And with your mother off in America, your arrival was the perfect opportunity to avenge my family’s honor.”

Moira’s jaw fell open, disbelief coloring her face. She wavered as though she was going to faint. Sean placed his hand between her shoulders to steady her.

“Tell them, Buach.” Lady Williams’s voice was thick with desperation. “You’re the one who discovered the affair. Tell them!”

Only then did Buach drop his hands from his face. “Nae! Nae!” He cried and waved his hands frantically in the air. “It was all a lie!”

“What?” Fire ignited Lady Williams’s eyes before she could regain her composure. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he spat out. “An’ I’m tellin’ ye, ’twas a lie.”

“Yer lie cost my husband his life. Ye’d best tell the truth now.” Peg’s voice was cool, but her fists were clenched tightly at her sides.

Buach heaved a sigh, stood, and turned his face to the fireplace. “What ye said about Noreen workin’ at Glenveagh is true.” He placed a hand on the mantel. “I was workin’ there as well. In the stables.”

“Aye, go on,” Sean said when Buach paused longer than he had patience for.

“Noreen had caught me stealin’ some o’ Master Adair’s silver. I’d hide it in my waistcoat a piece at a time. Anyhow, when she discovered me with it, I begged her not ta go ta the aut’orities.” He shrugged and turned his back to the fire, keeping his gaze on the ground. “When she reported my crime, o’course I lost my position. I’d never work in Gweedore again.”

“But why turn your venom on me?” Moira was steadier on her feet now, her palms turned up in question.

“Because of yer mammy, I lost everyt’ing. When she left for America soon after, I saw me chance. I told folk she had to flee because she’d been gettin’ up close an’ pairsonal wit’ John Adair and ran away to America when she found herself to be in the family way.”

“You fool!” Lady Williams hissed. “How dare you drag me into your charade!”

“Whan ye showed up, Miss Doherty, I saw my chance to get back at yer mother in me own way.” Buach’s red eyes turned at Peg. “I never dreamed it would end up hurtin’ the best man Ballymann has e’er seen.”

“Ye still haven’t explained the fire.” Sean placed a firm hand on Buach’s shoulder and pressed him back into the seat.

“Aye.” Buach shook his head. “Because of the story I told all those years ago, I knew Lady Williams was just as cross wit’ Noreen as me. When we’d heard Moira was goin’ to be helpin’ wit’ the readyin’ of the halla, we saw our chance.”

“You were supposed to be the one in that godforsaken halla,” Lady Williams hissed at Moira. “I should’ve checked to be certain, but when I heard movement inside, I assumed it was you. After all, your scarf was draped through the window.”

“I’m sorry,” Buach cried again. “If ’tweren’t fer my waggin’ tongue spinnin’ yarns, none o’ this woulda happened. I just wanted Noreen ta feel the pain she put on me.”

“Yer own daft behavior is what hurt ye, auld man.” Sean grabbed his arm, pulling Buach to his feet. “Yer all-forsaken pride was willing to take the life of an innocent girl to keep up appearances on a rumor ye started over twenty years ago.”

“The Gardaí’ll deal with the pair o’ ye.” Sean nodded at a few of the men and they sprang to action. Two grasped Lady Williams and another pair took Buach by the arms as they led them outside. As they passed through the crowd, some spat on their faces, others called out foul insults.

“Wait,” Peg yelled. She approached Buach until she was standing nose to nose with him.

“Let ’im have it!” called a voice from the crowd.

“Pummel ’im!” came another.

“Buach.” Peg held her head high, though her chin trembled. Moira stepped up beside her and slipped a hand through her elbow. “I . . . I forgive you. And may God have mercy on yer soul. And on ye, Lady Williams.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as Peg nodded at the men to take the culprits away.