In his eyes is the same look Aoife used to get, all ambition untempered by sanity. All want untempered by sense. I look down at my plate, at the meal I’ve not touched. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, withered greens. There’s a basket of fresh bread in the centre of the table, curls of butter beside it. I take up the cutlery and slice the meat. I eat. I eat because I haven’t eaten all day. I eat because I’m going to need my strength. I eat because it will make Aidan think me submissive and accepting of my fate.
‘I was thinking that, after we marry, we shall spend the first month in Breakwater while Hob’s Hallow is renovated.’
‘What will you have done here?’ I ask as if I am interested. Already I can feel my heart separating from the only home I’ve known. But still, the idea of him changing this place, putting his stamp on it and bending it to his will makes my skin crawl. Perhaps the whole house will fall into the sea with him in it. The thought makes me smile and he thinks it’s for him. It is only bricks and mortar, it is glass and plaster and stone. It is no longer safe.
‘Óisín’s study is very small. I will have men knock through into the next room, and perhaps the one after that to make a much bigger space.’
‘There is damp in one wall,’ I say conversationally. ‘The workers will need to be careful the whole next floor doesn’t come down on them.’ He grunts acknowledgement. I go on, ‘And I would like to move out of the East Wing.’
He nods. ‘Yes. New suites for both of us. I’ve thought of that.’
And he goes on to tell me how he will design the rooms himself: one large bedchamber for us to share, with individual sitting rooms on either side for privacy. I nod. I smile. I notice there is neither wine nor whiskey at the table and I’m grateful for that. He’s still trying to hide himself, if only for a little while, even if he’s blackmailed me into marriage, even if he’s made me suspect he had my grandmother murdered. For what reason? She was giving him what he wanted just as he was giving her her heart’s desire. I want to scream and shout. I want to demand he tell me the truth.
But how much truth will he bear me knowing? How much can I learn before he decides I can be got rid of? After children, obviously. I pass the title of Hob’s Hallow to him, I pass the O’Malley name, I give him heirs to do what must be done. And then? I’m as unnecessary as any girl who refuses to obey her husband; like those in one of Maura’s stories, who took the key he gave them and looked into the rooms he forbade them from entering.
‘This is pleasant, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Miren?’
‘Yes, Aidan. It is pleasant.’ And I smile like a doll, like a moppet, like a toy he might play with any way he wants.
When Yri brings in the dessert – a simple trifle – I smile at her too. No hard feelings. I thank her kindly for all her help with Aoife. I tell her that I cannot imagine being able to run the house without her even after such a short time. She blushes with pleasure and I think about sticking my dessert fork through her left eye. Instead, I finish the last mouthful.
‘Aidan, if you will forgive me, I would like to retire now. It has been, as you know, a very difficult few days and I am exhausted.’
‘Of course.’ He comes to my end of the table to pull my chair out. I rise and he stands close to me and my heart feels like it’s trying to leave me through my throat. He touches my hair. ‘We will be happy, Miren, I believe this.’
I smile and he leans to kiss me. He doesn’t taste like the green-eyed man; he doesn’t feel like him either. When he’s hard against me I gently push him away.
‘Our wedding will be soon enough, Aidan.’ I lower my lashes. ‘It’s best if we wait.’
He’s still and awkward but he steps back. He grabs my hand, though, and pushes the ring on my finger once again; forceful and clumsy. I don’t grimace, but touch his face as if in tenderness. ‘It’s not so long to be patient, is it?’
Aidan manages a smile. He will drink on our wedding night. And I’ll wake bruised on the next morning in more places than I knew I had. I kiss him once more, quickly. ‘Good night, Aidan.’
Up in my room, I sit on my bed and wait. It doesn’t take long. I think, from the lightness of the footsteps, it’s either Yri or Ciara who comes. And I hear the door lock with a finality Aidan would surely find satisfying.
13
I kick away my shoes with the pretty little heels, then strip off my dress, making sure not to leave the pocketknife behind. From the wardrobe I drag a pair of dark trews, and a shirt, a knitted sweater and an old navy pea coat; they all used to belong to Óisín. I’ve worn the outfit before, when my grandfather used to take me out in a little rowboat to fish, but it’s not frequent attire – I actually do like dresses and skirts as long as they’ve got pockets. I dress quickly, but set the coat aside: it’s too bulky for what
