Chapter 21

 

What the hell? Taylor glanced at Jalene whose expression of astonishment surely mirrored his own. Directly in front of them stood a peasant’s cottage. Neatly manicured rows of flax, with their delicate blue flowers in full bloom, surrounded the cottage for about an acre or more. This was hardly the setting for an illegal distillery operation.

The carriage door slammed behind them. “Go on inside,” Henry told Taylor and led the horse and carriage to an outbuilding a short distance away. Apparently, Nelly and Donnegan had already arrived for their carriage was nowhere to be seen.

Jalene, still taken with the sight before her said, “The fields of blue fire are beautiful! I’ve never seen such a riot of color.”

“Aye, and that is what puzzles me. There’s no indication a distillery is on the premises. From this vantage point, the cottage—oddly—appears to be built into part of a hill.

Taylor turned towards the outbuilding and stared at the graveled road leading to it. With the toe of his boot, he dug into the ground about an inch.

“What are you doing?” Jalene asked.

“The soil sometimes tells me a lot about a location. The dirt here is typical of the north, but I doubt we’re anywhere near the coast.”

With careful steps, he crept past the lone window in front of the cottage through some high grass until he came to the edge of the field. The rows of flax had reached a mature height of four feet and soon would be ready for harvest. He squatted and ran his fingers through the ground near the plants. The soil was rich and disease free, and it was apparent that whoever maintained the flax knew the land. Regardless, why had Donnegan escorted them to such a place?

“I think Mr. Donnegan would like us to come inside now,” Jalene yelled to Taylor.

At the sound of Jalene’s voice he stood and saw one of Donnegan’s men with his hand tightly gripping Jalene’s arm. “Aye.” He quickly stomped over to them and tugged Jalene’s arm from the man, offering him a broad smile. “I was admiring the quality of the flax. Do you do something special to it?”

“Ye can ask Master Cory any questions. Just get inside.”

They entered the structure, and Taylor was immediately aware that it was no ordinary peasant’s cottage. His speculation that the cottage was built into the hillside proved to be true. Opposite the entryway where they stood was part of the hillside which served as a wall with a draperied window. As in the peasant’s cottage where he and Jalene had been taken after the Dublin episode, a table and a few chairs were the only pieces of furniture. While Donnegan had requested their presence, he was nowhere to be seen, which lead Taylor to believe the place contained a hidden passageway.

“It’s odd to have a window there,” Taylor whispered to Jalene and motioned to the object of his attention.

“Especially, since that side seems to be the wall that is part of the hillside,” Jalene agreed.

What Taylor originally surmised to be a window proved to be a door. When Donnegan’s man tapped out a five-knock code upon it, the heavy sides swung outward to either side. Almost instantly a cool dank draft hit him in the face.

Jalene inched closer to Taylor. “Where does the passageway lead?”

“Just follow it,” Donnegan’s man ordered and shoved them forward.

In an instant, the heavy doors slammed shut behind them with a loud ominous crash. Taylor jerked in response and noticed that Jalene had been startled as well. A worry line creased her forehead.

Taylor wiped the palms of his cold hands on his green breeches. “Don’t be troubled. The man probably didn’t realize his own strength,” Taylor told her, knowing her real concern was over negotiating with Donnegan.

She smiled and was about to reply, but stopped before any words were uttered. If she’d appeared worried before, fear clearly showed on her face now. He followed her gaze down the dim lantern-lit passageway in front of them.

“Jalene?”

She didn’t answer.

“Jalene?” He shook her gently. “What is it?”

She glanced up at him and shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing.” She gave him a gentle squeeze on his arm. “I was just wondering if there would be any rats?”

“Is that what that terrified look was all about? It’s possible. But I seriously doubt it, since this passageway is apparently used. Besides, do you think Donnegan would tolerate such conditions?”

She smiled, and said, “Nay. You’re right, but I don’t like it in here.”

“Well let’s get on with this so we can be gone all the sooner—that is, if this is in fact the place of operation.” He reached for Jalene’s hand and led the way.

The path wound downhill and became cooler as they descended. As they walked, it crossed his mind—especially after being so rudely treated—that his plans had somehow already gone astray. Nay, he thought. There’s no reason for Donnegan to be suspicious. Yet, the man had been much too agreeable. It had been too easy to obtain an invitation to his place of operation. If Nelly— not Jalene—had suggested they all retreat to Donnegan’s establishment this foreboding might not have been as strong. He shrugged such thoughts aside. Why imagine the worst? Better to react as the situation unfolded.

Finally, an array of bright lights glowed in the distance.

“I don’t like it in here,” Jalene said again, “I feel smothered by the darkness and closeness of our surroundings. We’re underground. It’s not normal.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll leave as soon as we can. Promise.”

They continued onward until they reached the source of light and stepped into a huge chamber and another world. He would never have believed he was in a cavern. If he hadn’t known it was 1770, he would have thought he was standing in a banquet hall during the Middle Ages.

Before them on a cave wall, semicircular in shape, hung a huge tapestry. On either side of the tapestry hung elaborate pewter sconces and Knights’ shields, all strategically placed. A banquet table, surrounded by ornately carved high-back chairs, sat in the center of the room.

He watched Jalene gawk at the sight before them. It was a few seconds before she found her voice. “It’s like being transported back in time.”

“I take it you approve,” Donnegan said as he wobbled on his cane through the entryway of a smaller chamber off to the side. Nelly strutted prettily behind him.

“Aye,” Taylor and Jalene said in unison and smiled at each other.

“That tapestry,” Donnegan pointed at the wall before them, “came from Paris and is about fifty years old. I’ve always enjoyed the hunt and found this scene intriguing.”

The scene on the tapestry depicted several hounds attacking a pheasant while the dogs’ masters, still sitting upon their horses, looked on in pleasure. Behind the horsemen in the forest were several other pheasants hidden in the underbrush. How typical of Donnegan, Taylor concluded. The scene disgusted him. He didn’t believe in killing for sport.

“This scene used to make me sick, but over time I’ve come to appreciate the artistic quality Cory has always talked about.” Nelly stared up at the tapestry in almost a loving manner.

Donnegan first gazed at Nelly and next up at the tapestry. His face took on the same expression as hers.

It was apparent to Taylor that Nelly’s views and ideas, had probably changed once she met Donnegan. No woman of his acquaintance would have found the tapestry appealing.

“What do you think, my dear?” Donnegan asked Jalene.

If Jalene found the scene appalling, she concealed her feelings remarkably well. She stood ramrod straight with her one hand clasped over the other on the amber ring.

“I’m hardly an authority on the aesthetic value of a tapestry, painting, or any other object of art,” Jalene answered. “It’s unique, but hardly why you brought us here.”

“Aye,” said Taylor, silently admiring the skillful way in which Jalene avoided directly answering Donnegan’s question. “You said you made your own whiskey, yet I see no evidence of a distillery here.”

Donnegan gave him a wicked grin and said proudly, “Ach, but you are wrong. It is produced here. That’s the beauty of it. No one would ever suspect or search for an illegal distillery in a cave, especially in a cave not known to exist.”

“Come with me,” Donnegan ordered. “You’re about to tour the only underground distillery in all of Ireland, or any country for that matter.”

Taylor noticed that Jalene’s complexion paled considerably, and that she shivered at Donnegan’s words. Instantly, he grabbed her and secured her tightly in his embrace. “Have you ever made love in a cave, sweetness?” He spoke loud enough for Donnegan and Nelly to hear, then whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry. This is almost over. Just play along.”

Playfully, she shoved him from her, “Ach, go on-making love in a cave—you know I haven’t, but stop this nonsense. We’re keeping our host waiting.”

Donnegan and Nelly chuckled at his antics and led them to the opposite side of the chamber where they embarked down another trail of the cave.

* * * *

A mere five minutes flitted by, but to Jalene five seconds would have been too long to reach the still. They traveled single file around narrow bends where sometimes the cave ceiling hung so low that they had to mind their heads. She placed her hand on the cave wall as a support only to jerk it quickly back from the slimy substance she felt. A soft yelp left her lips, causing Donnegan to turn and face her.

Before he could ask, she said, “It’s nothing. Proceed.”

Moments later, they approached a section in near darkness. Donnegan slowed his steps and they followed. What would happen if the lanterns in the distance burned out, too? she thought. She fought to control her reaction to the confines of the damp, chilly cave. It was too much like the cellar she’d been accidentally locked in during her childhood.

Her mother had forbidden her and James to go near that part of their home. It was a dark and gloomy area with a storage place for wine and other supplies that one needed to keep cool. One day, her childish curiosity got the better of her, and she secretly followed her father into the cellar. At first it was a bit frightening to know that she had disobeyed her mother’s wishes and to find herself in such an eerie place. However, with her father’s lantern light in the distance, she soon had become so engrossed in her surroundings that she failed to pay attention to her footing and tripped and bumped her head. The next conscious thought she recalled was that she was in total darkness in the cellar and that something nibbled on her toes. She screamed and fumbled about in the blackness. After much misdirection, she managed to feel her way to the locked door where she screamed until her throat hurt. Still, no one had come.

She shivered at the memory. Now, the light-filled chamber ahead—the core of Donnegan’s operation—was a welcome sight after the darkness of the rest of the cave. They stepped into a huge room where on either side of the rock walls sat three pot-shaped stills with several lads overseeing them. The mashing and fermentation must have been done in another room behind the walls, for near the opposite end of the chamber, several pipes led up through the cave ceiling while others led down and over to the cask room. One lad worked at filling the casks with whiskey. Another tended the stills. Neither looked up from his work. They moved as if they were sleepwalking or under a spell.

Donnegan caught her frown before she masked it. He said, “The young men are orphans. I rescued them from the asylums of Dublin. No one wanted them. They’re harmless, simply dimwitted. Here they have plenty to eat and are well cared for in return for their labor.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Jalene acknowledged, though she could hardly call them men. The lads appeared well fed, but she doubted they were dumb. They appeared to be drugged, and she suspected all of them had been reported missing.

“There’s a lot more here than I imagined,” Taylor said.

“Aye, but only one still is ever running at any given time. There’s a steady production from still number one, over there,” Donnegan pointed to the still nearest him, “to the last down the line. My helpers see that only one is coal-fired at a time, so they work in shifts.”

“Why don’t you fire up more than one?” Jalene asked, truly curious.

“Ventilation is kept at a minimum, so the odor above ground won’t make people suspicious. A vent is placed near the cottage chimney to leave anyone to believe the smell is from there.”

“How do you disguise the distinct odor of whiskey? I didn’t smell anything unusual outside,” Taylor said as he studied the lads at their tasks.

“Usually we cook something that has a strong aroma that overpowers the smell of whiskey. Sometimes it’s merely a huge kettle of cabbage and bacon, or other times I’ll have them cook roast pork with leeks.”

“No one has ever questioned you?” Taylor asked.

“Nay, they haven’t,” Donnegan replied.

“We’re forgetting our manners,” Nelly intervened. “I apologize.” She directed her speech toward Jalene. “I suggested we come here so you two might freshen up before the gentlemen discuss business.” Nelly gave her a weak smile and said, “Leave them now.” She turned from Jalene to smile prettily at Donnegan.

Donnegan smiled in response in such a way that Jalene instantly couldn’t help thinking that the two were sending some silent message to each other that had nothing to do with courtesies and everything to do with Taylor and herself.

“Show them to the primp room—that special room only our honored guests get to use,” Donnegan told Henry who had joined them. “My wound is bothering me. I need to go sit.”

She glanced at Taylor, but his expression gave no clue as to what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” Taylor said, “We’ll only be a moment.”

Taylor grabbed her hand and the instant his fingers tightly interlocked with hers, she sensed something was wrong. Yet, this wasn’t the moment to question Taylor. They exited the brightly lit room only to travel another short passageway.

“In there,” Henry said, stopping in front of a door that was only half the size in height of a normal entryway.

“This is an odd little door, isn’t it? Strange, that it was made so that you would have to stoop through it to pass inside.” Jalene spoke to Taylor, hesitant to go near the door, much less open it. “I tell you what. I’m really quite fine now that I’m dry.”

“Let’s go back then,” Taylor said, still gripping her hand firmly as he made to shove his way past Henry.

“I’m afraid not,” Henry failed to move and firmly planted, blocked their path. He pulled a pistol from the waistband of his breeches. “In there with ye now.” He waved the weapon first at them and next the little door.

“We’re guests of Mr. Donnegan,” Jalene argued. “He’ll not like your bullying us about.”

Henry laughed. “I’m followin’ his orders. Get in there unless you’d like assistance.” He flashed the pistol at them.

“I’d like to speak with Donnegan,” Taylor said, without moving a step further.

“Oh, ye’ll talk to him all right. Now go.”

Henry made as if to hit her on the head. Taylor instantly reacted in her defense, attempting to grab for the pistol, but Henry apparently anticipated the move and aimed the weapon at Taylor’s head, stopping him in midstride.

“Get your arse movin’. Ye’ve come real close to me usin’ this,” Henry told Taylor and cocked the pistol.

Taylor grabbed her hand and reached for the door handle. Crouching over, he tugged her with him through the low entryway into total darkness. Once inside, she stood at full height again. She tore her hand from his and turned towards the door, the only source of light. She reached for the handle as Henry pulled it shut.

“Wait,” she said, knowing her voice did nothing to mask her panic. “We have no lantern.”

Henry slammed the door shut. As darkness enclosed the room, a scream of horror left her lips. Terrified, she steadily banged on the door with her fists and screamed at it, “Don’t leave me. I can’t see. I have to see.”

“Jalene.”

She heard Taylor’s approach and slapped into the darkness at him. Frantically, she kicked at the earthen floor. “Get away!”

When his movement stilled, she instantly turned her attention to the door, pounding and pulling on the door handle. “Open. It’s got to open.” She sobbed.

“It’s locked, Jalene. There’s no use,” Taylor said in a soothing manner.

Once more, she heard him move in her direction and began kicking at the ground as he neared. “There’s something in here. I know it. Crawling on the floor. Get it! Get it! Hurry!” She yelled and groped at the nothingness in front of her.

His hands connected with hers, and he pulled her into his arms. She wrestled with him, but his strength was too great.

“I can’t stand it. I have to see.” She squirmed and fought against him. “Help! God help me! Get me out of here.”

“Be still,” he commanded. “You’re hysterical. There’s naught to be frightened about. I’m with you.”

“Leave me be.” She struggled further. His words of consolation meant nothing to her. She had to get out of this hell.

His hands touched her head. He tugged on the hair at the nape and with the other, he slapped her face.

His action left her breathless and speechless.

Quickly, he held her to him. “I’m sorry, sweetness. It was the only way.” He patted her hair in a soothing gesture and caressed her back, holding her to him. When she started to shiver, he rubbed her arms for a few moments.

“Close your eyes,” he finally said, and coaxed her to a sitting position against him and the door she had just beat upon so thoroughly. “The dark is nothing to fear, Jalene. What has made you so frightened?”

Her words tumbled out over chattering lips. “I’ve always been afraid of the dark. But ever since I was locked in the wine cellar when I was a child, I panic if there’s no light.”

“Who did such a cruel thing to you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t intentional.” She told him how she’d gotten locked inside the cellar, and that it wasn’t until hours later that she was rescued.

“I still have nightmares where I wake up calling for my Poppy, ... my da.” Her voice sounded unusually loud in the blackness of the musty cave chamber, though she now spoke in a more normal tone.

His embrace tightened around her. “That would be a frightening experience even for an adult, but a child…”

“That’s why I have to sleep with a candle burning on a moonless night except ...” As she said the words, she remembered their lovemaking in the tinker caravan. She had slept the entire night in comfort and in the dark. Maybe ...

“Except what?” Taylor asked.

“Nothing.”

“It’s understandable, Jalene,” Taylor urged.

“Thank you, but I can’t stand this, Taylor. I have to see. I have to or I’ll go mad.” She buried her face in the crook of his arm.

“Nay, see how well you’ve survived already by simply talking about it. Keep your eyes closed and try to sleep.”

“I can’t. All I can think about is that I’m locked in total blackness and don’t know for how long, or if I’ll ever get out of here?”

“Perhaps there is another door. I’ll feel along the wall to check and determine the size of this chamber as well.”

“Nay, don’t leave me, please.” She gripped him tightly. “You don’t know what could be in the rest of this place. Maybe there’s a deep pit you could plunge into, or some …”

“You’ve a vivid imagination, but this is not a large area. The air in here is stuffy and not as cool. This was probably some recess off the main artery of the cave trail. Donnegan must have decided to use it for storage, or for something like this—for his guests to make themselves more comfortable,” he said, and gave a forced laugh.

She had been so involved in her fear that she had completely forgotten about why they were there. “Those lads acted more like they were drugged than dimwitted,” she voiced her concern. “Donnegan’s been behind the missing lads.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “One of them is Paddy’s son, Kyle. He didn’t recognize me. Donnegan’s definitely been feeding them some form of drug.”

“He knows we’re not who we pretend to be, doesn’t he?” she asked.

“Not necessarily. It may be that he had no intentions of dealing with us, nor anyone, and that this was his plan all along. Either way, our situation is definitely grim. We’ll have to act fast once he summons us.”

Her shuddering increased and again, he responded by rubbing his hand up and down her arms to warm her.

“What if he doesn’t summon us? What if his intention is to leave us in here forever?” She desperately clung to him.

“That’s not Donnegan’s way. He prefers to make a game of this, and one he can win. You saw how he was when he dumped us in the cottage outside Dublin. He’ll be back.”

She took comfort in this, unsure how long she could tolerate not seeing. Yet, she knew that once they stepped outside the door, this darkness might be only a prelude to the final blackness of death. Fate had intervened on their behalf before, but it was unlikely this time. She reached for his arm and followed it down to his hand. She interlocked her fingers with his, and said, “I’ve a confession to make.”