Beauty and the Beast

"Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but, until they speak to the imagination, not yet beautiful." - Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882), "Beauty," The Conduct of Life (1860)

Elizabeth stood on her toes and peered critically at her brother's work. He'd told her that if she kept hovering around him, interrupting him while he toiled, he'd stop and she could plant the tree herself. So she dutifully kept out of the way. But that didn't mean she couldn't supervise and comment as she liked. "Riley!"

The tall, sandy-haired blonde grunted as he settled the tender sapling in the hole he'd dug and ignored the persistent attempts to get his attention.

The shrill voice became louder and more peremptory. "Riley! I'm talking to you, so stop ignoring me!"

He straightened up from his task and sighed. "God save me from younger sisters," he muttered under his breath. "What do you want, Elizabeth?"

"You're putting it in the wrong place!" Her voice was behind him now and he turned to look at his little sister. She leaned out of the casement, an exasperated look on her heart-shaped face. At 15, she was tiny, much more so than most girls her age. But what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in fierceness and willfulness. He griped often to his father about how she'd never get a husband with her bossy, bullying ways. But he secretly adored her for them and loved how she never backed down from a challenge.

The sun was shining on her tousled hair as she leaned farther out the window. "I wanted the peach tree to go over there!" She pointed her finger peremptorily at a spot closer to her window and he sighed again in exasperation.

"Lizzy..."

She scowled. "Don't call me that! I'm 15, Riley, and it's time you stopped calling me stupid names."

"You're not too big for you to take over my knee. In fact, you're not too big for a dwarf to take over his knee," he teased.

"Ooh! I'm going to get you, you big oaf!" He knew how sensitive she was about her height and, sure enough, she disappeared from the window and he heard the rapid patter of little feet as she ran towards the back door.

She came running from the house and hurled herself at him. Laughingly, he fended off her attempts to kick him. "Now, now, lass. If you lame me, who's going to plant this tree for ya?" After all the education his father had forced on him and his sisters since the year of their mother's death, Riley's countrified speech had been somewhat softened around the edges. But he still relapsed into it on occasion when he spoke in private with his favorite sister.

"Not you, that's for certain. I wanted it over there, mister. Are you blind and deaf?"

"Lass, it can't go over there. When it grows, it'll block out yer view of the rest of the garden. Ya don't want that, do ya?"

She gnawed her lower lip. "Nooo, I suppose not. But it would have been so nice to wake up in the morning and see it once it started blooming."

"And pluck off a ripe peach to have before morning breakfast, I'll be thinking."

A sunny grin lit up her face. "Of course!"

"Don't worry; this place is much better for it." He pointed at the pristine whiteness of the nearby wall. "The sun'll hit that wall and beam the light right on to the tree, see? And this way, it's out of the wind so it'll grow up straight and tall. It'll be full of luscious fruit before ye know it."

She studied the matter, her head tilted on one side as she considered his explanation. Riley didn't talk down to her the way her sisters often did and Elizabeth was old enough to appreciate it. "All right then. If you say so," she reluctantly conceded.

"I do say so," he stated. "Besides, when da's ships come in, he'll have those expensive rose seeds ye were wanting and I'll plant those under your window instead."

"Really?"

"Yes. Think about how nice it'll be to wake up to that lovely smell under your nose. But you'll have to do the tending yourself, me girl. Ya don't want me doing all the work around here, do ya?"

"No, no. I promise I'll take care of the roses. They'll be so lovely, you'll see, nothing like what we had in the country." She bounced up and down, almost giddy with anticipation. She'd never seen anything like the lush, exotic blooms before they came to Galway and the heady scent had captivated her along with the delicate, velvet-like petals. Since then, she'd pestered her father to get roses for her and now he was finally able to oblige her.

Riley smiled at her childish delight. "You promise?"

She nodded vigorously, eager to impress him with her sincerity. "I promise."

He held up his hand, counting off her future duties on his fingers. "That means watering them, trimming the buds, cutting off dead leaves and such."

"Oh, I can do such things. That's easy."

"Plucking off aphids, worms and other nasty, crawling critters."

Her enthusiasm faltered as her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Worms? Ugh."

"And shoveling on horse manure to help the wee things grow."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "Manure!?! Ew, no, Riley, I'm not touching that stuff."

"Elizabeth, you promised," he reminded her sternly.

"But manure? Do I, must I? I mean, I've seen other ladies tending to their gardens. They don't touch...that vile stuff." She shuddered and tucked her hands behind her back.

"Ah, but those fine ladies use gardeners so they don't soil their lily white hands."

"Then we can get a gardener, too," she stated. The authority in her young voice made him chuckle before he resumed his lecture.

"Lass, regardless of what you think, da's far from being the richest man in the town and he's not made of money. We have the one servant and that's plenty for us."

"But he's a great merchant, more so than any of us thought! He took his sheep and ma's jewelry and sold them off and got heaps of money in return and brought us all to Galway! We're wealthy people now; I've heard him say so. We can get other servants so I don't have to touch stinky manure." She folded her arms defiantly.

"Just because we live in Galway now doesn't mean we can live like kings, me gel. The life of a merchant isn't a steady, secure one by any means. And da's making his living by sending and bringing things back and forth across the oceans. The sea can be a fickle mistress and she doesn't play favorites. One moment she's making a man his fortune. The next she's plunging everything he possesses to the bottom of the briny."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose again, this time in perplexity. "What's a mistress, Riley?"

He faltered. "Uh, well, a mistress? That's a kind of...lady."

"A lady? The sea is a kind of lady? What sort of lady is she?"

Riley smiled uncertainly as he tried to come up with an answer that would assuage her curiosity. He really didn't want to have this conversation with his little sister. But Elizabeth could be like a dog with a bone when it came to ferreting out mysteries and he wasn't sure how he was going to wriggle out of this one.

"Grace, could you come out here and open the gate? Our hands are full." The voice came from the front of the house and Riley sighed in relief.

[Saved by the cry of damsels in distress.] "Sorry, Lizzy. Duty calls."

"Don't call me that and let Grace take care of them. She is the maid, after all."

"And no doubt has her hands full with the household chores. Besides, it's for certain those vain sisters of yours will need a strong back to carry in all the items they'll have picked up in the city."

"Or a small militia," Elizabeth stated. "But I still want to know what a mistress is."

"Ask Cordelia and Darla. I'm sure they've got the clothes for it by now." He unwrapped his shirt from around his waist and shrugged it over his shoulders. Then he set off to find his other sisters. He wondered what silly bit of fripperies they'd bought on this jaunt to the city.

She trotted after him, her short legs pumping to keep up with his longer stride. "Really? Being a mistress needs special clothes, then? Does a mistress give a service like a butcher's wife or a maid?"

"Ask them," Riley ground out. They rounded the corner of the house and paused at the spectacle that greeted them.

Cordelia and Darla may have been the eldest daughters of a sheep farmer. But they had longed to live the grand life of fine ladies ever since their father had taken them with him on his trip to the big city. Mr. Charles Finn had gone into the city to settle their affairs after their mother's untimely death. The girls hadn't needed to come with him but he'd been overly protective of them after their mother had died, especially Elizabeth, and had insisted on taking them with him.

For the first time in her lives, the young girls had seen tall buildings with arching spires and cobbled streets. Large horses drawing fine carriages had rumbled by with well dressed and elegantly coiffed women inside, laughing and fanning themselves. They had seen people sitting idly in pubs and wandering the streets looking into shop windows. In spite of their grief, they had found themselves consumed with avid curiosity and burgeoning hunger for this new life around them.

The trip had been frustratingly brief and the girls had gotten nothing more than a glimpse of the high life. But that glimpse had been enough to whet the appetites of Cordelia and Darla for the sweet things that this society had to offer.

That had been seven years ago and Cordelia and Darla had thrown themselves fully into the task of remaking themselves into fine ladies. Since they'd come to Galway, they rarely missed a week to go shopping for beautiful things to fill their grand home.

He paused in the walkway leading to the front gate now and grimaced. The girls were loaded down with several parcels, just as he'd expected, and Elizabeth gaped in astonishment. "Are ye girls daft? Father is going to murder you when he sees how you've been spending his money."

"Father can afford it, Elizabeth. Not all of us want to go around looking like urchins," Cordelia replied. She aimed a critical look at their youngest sibling. "Have you been playing in the garden again? You've got dirt all over your shoes." Without waiting for an answer, she impatiently tapped one foot and arched an eyebrow at Riley. "Well? Are you going to help us or just stand there like a maypole?"

"Me? I was just counting all those boxes ye've got behind you. I was wondering whether you'd packed any manners in them," he asked in an innocent tone.

"I'm being lectured on my manners, am I? This from the man standing there in a sweaty shirt that's seen better days and stinking to high heaven? What have the two of you been doing anyway?" she retorted, wrinkling her nose in a way eerily comparable to Elizabeth's.

"Who cares? Probably more household chores or things better left to the maid. Honestly, what is the point of having money and living in Galway if the two of you are just going to act as if we're still in the country?" Darla raised her voice. "Grace! Come to the front gate. We need you!"

"Coming, miss." The voice came from a dumpy girl of 16 with a profusion of tight brown curls framing her face. She trotted down the walk, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

Riley waved her back. "Sorry about that, Grace. You can go back to the house. The girls just need a little help with their packages. We'll sort it out." He opened the gate and picked up several of the boxes. "Glory, these things are a weight. What things did ye get this time? Hooks to pull up yer shoes? Block and tackle to lower those massive hats on to yer heads?"

"Silverware, if you must know. We bought china, too, but that was too heavy for us to carry so we're having servicemen bring them up from the shops," Darla replied as she stepped briskly in front of him.

Riley protested even as he lugged the large packages up the walk. "Silverware? China? What do we need those foolish things for? We've got the pewter that's been in da's family for generations. They've been plenty good to eat off of and we don't need stuff that'll break the first time it's dropped on the floor."

"Pewter plate is dull stuff. It doesn't even shine," Cordelia stated.

"We're eating off the plates not washing our faces in them," Riley groused. "Da needs to have a firm talk with the pair of ye. Ya can't go spending his money like it was water on every silly thing ya see in a window." As always the smug authority in Cordelia's tone grated Riley no end. She had no more education than the rest of them but she picked up rapidly on all the news and gossip that filtered through the town and considered herself and Darla far more knowing in the ways of the world. She had learned to ape the manners of their betters and, if they still weren't quite accepted by the tonier set in town, she was determined to wedge herself in by sheer force of will if she could.

Cordelia and Darla ignored him now as they mused on future plans. "We should get ourselves a proper carriage when we go into town next. Riley, you'll have to help us pick out a suitable horse; you know about animals and such," Darla directed at him.

"I know about hunting dogs and hunting horses. High-stepping, nervous pieces of horseflesh that pull carriages is another kettle of fish altogether."

Cordelia added, "Still, when it comes to choosing an animal for stamina and drawing a heavy weight like a carriage..."

"And two great big oversized heifers like yourselves in it," he interjected.

"We are NOT fat. You're just jealous because you're so lightheaded between the ears," Cordelia replied with sweet malice.

Nothing like teasing sisters to brighten one's day. "Well, if I'm so lightheaded and stupid, then you stylish ladies can pick out your own horses. I'm just too much of an eejit to get the job done right."

Mr. Finn had shoved the young children willy-nilly into the first school that would have them, in spite of their rudimentary learning in the country. Riley barely had learned to sign his name. But Mr. Finn had pointed out that higher education was necessary. Otherwise, the unscrupulous of this new world would cheat them at every opportunity.

Riley had been sick to death of it even before the second week had passed. But even a hint that he might leave had been enough to bring the tears to Lizzy's eyes and he couldn't bear to disappoint her, no matter how much his soul cried out at the loss of his freedom. He only wished he could resign himself to being here as easily as his sisters.

"Riley is NOT stupid," Buffy scowled, protective of her older brother as always. "He's much cleverer than you two. What are you doing with your lives that are so smart besides filling the house with shoes and hats like, like..." Elizabeth struggled for a word that would be a crushing insult to her elder sisters. "Like a pair of mistresses!"

The two women stopped in the hallway, their mouths dropping open in shock. "Mistresses!" Darla yelled.

"Where on earth did you hear that word!?" Cordelia snapped. Dark eyes narrowed at Riley. "Riley Finn, what have you been telling this girl? Have you been filling her head with that ugly, boorish talk you hear in the pub again? You just wait until father gets home from the docks. He'll have your head on a plate."

"He'll have to wait until it arrives with the servicemen, won't he?" Riley said as he tossed his coat over his shoulder and sped out the front door. He'd had enough of his sisters for one day. He was fond of all of them, truly, especially Elizabeth the youngest. But they had been turning into strangers ever since they came to this closed-off place. Soon, Lizzy would join her older sisters in primping and preening herself and he'd been left in the cold.

__________

Riley saddled Cullen and rode him into town. Da had wanted to sell the old horse, thinking him less than genteel for their elevated station but Riley had set him straight about that in a hurry. The horse had been his favorite for hunting in the country and he was damned if he'd see him sold off like a piece of battered furniture. Sometimes he felt closer to the animal than he did to the people here and it would have pained him no end to lose the fine beast just because his da felt the animal's looks didn't fit in with their new life.

But there was no life here for the animal and Riley knew it. Many of the rich folks retired to the country during the off season and took up hunting as a pastime while they were there. But Riley hadn't been able to fit in with them and never got invited. He and his roan stallion were left to languish here and Riley knew Cullen hated being pent up as much as he did. But what was to be done about it?

He set down his mug and sighed. Well, at least he had friends of a sort here at The Growling Lion. The bluff lads often came here to get away from their women folk, too, and they brought with them news of the world that Riley had to admit he found intriguing. There were definitely moments of interest to be had in this place.

"Riley, it's been days since ye were here last," Brigid purred.

"It's only been two days, Brigid. Are ye telling me ye missed me already? I thought Colin would be happy to keep the company of a splendid lass like yerself," he teased while sipping the dark brown ale.

The buxom innkeeper's daughter leaned over and poured him another bumper, affording him a perfect view of her plush breasts. Brigid had been making a play for him ever since he'd strolled into the place almost seven years ago. But so far Riley had managed to resist her generous charms. She didn't understand it but thought it rather sweet if a bit frustrating.

Riley smiled uncomfortably and lowered his eyes from her. He didn't mind a look at a woman's fair charms. But the ladies here were just so much more forward than what he'd been used to back home. Seven years in the city and he still wasn't used to the boldness of these women. Privately, he thought that modesty suited a woman better. Leaving a man guessing as to what she kept hidden was such a better way of keeping him interested.

Brigid winked at him. "Colin shows good taste. But I like ye much better than Colin."

"Don't let him hear you say that, Brigid, me girl." Another man, Fergus, sat down at the table and smacked her lightly on her ample rump. "You know Colin's got his heart set on marrying you one of these days." He was a rangy, bony man in spite of all the food he packed away and Brigid silently signaled one of the other serving girls to get him his usual plate of beef and eggs.

"That's not yet settled. Colin's a tailor's son. Maybe I want something a wee bit more solid than that."

"Is that why ya want me? Ya think I've more money coming to me than Colin? Rather a shabby way to think of a future match and not kind to a man's ego-mine or Colin's," Riley pointed out to her.

Brigid clucked her tongue. "That's not what I meant. Colin's a weedy, meager scrap of a man. When I said solid, I meant in the manly way not money." She swept him up and down with her eyes, a pink tongue snaking out to wet her lips, making it perfectly clear what she had in mind for him.

Fergus and a few of his cronies who'd joined him groaned in mock despair. "That's what all of the girls say. Since this great big lummox rode into town, none of them'll look sideways at us. Seems all of them want their boys meaty and oversized like oxen. Like having a thick neck the size of a barrel is something to be proud of."

"Yer all just jealous because yer such wee fellows," Riley grinned.

"I'll show ya who's wee!" Angus, a hefty, short man of only five foot six inches, shoved his way from the table and flexed his fists. "Step up, me boy, and ya'll see what this 'wee' man can do!"

"Oh, stop it, ya big eejit," Brigid sighed in exasperation. She snapped her towel at him, hitting him unerringly in his private parts so that he yelped and covered his britches while the others roared in laughter. "Riley beat ya up the first time ya challenged him and today'll be no different. I've no wish to have me father's pub trashed again so ya can prove yer manhood. Take it outside if yer looking to get yerselves pasted into a bloody smear on the ground."

"Blast ye, woman! That stung!" Angus sank back down in his chair as he rubbed himself to relieve the ache.

She tossed her thick black tresses over shoulder. "Listen to his griping. And this is the man to take on Riley Finn?" Brigid dismissed him and returned her attentions to Riley. "Was there anything else ye were wanting? There's a fresh ham just got in from the market. I know how much men like yer...meat." She tilted towards Riley again, her voice dropping suggestively on the last word, and the other men leaned forward accordingly, trying to snatch a glimpse of what she so easily afforded Riley.

"Maybe some other time, darling. I just came in here to rest for a spell before heading home again." Riley lifted up his mug again and let his eye travel around the pub. "Where's Tobias? I haven't seen him in months but I expected him here days ago. Is he haunting another pub?"

A tense silence fell over the group and others shifted in their seats. Riley frowned to see their eyes avoid his. "Fellows? What is it? What's with all the odd looks?"

"Shit. He hasn't heard," Angus muttered.

"Heard what? What's amiss?"

"Tobias, well, you know he sailed out on one of the ships that were traveling to Africa six months ago?" Fergus offered.

"That's right." Riley screwed up his brows as he tried to recall. "It was on The Saint's Hope, one of my da's merchant fleet."
This time the silence was chilling. Barney was the first to break it. "Yer father...he wasn't on any of those ships, was he?" he ventured.

"No, no. He's a merchant not a sailor. He leaves the actual sailing to others." Riley couldn't tell them anything else. He hadn't kept track of his father's business any more than he'd followed the career of the sheep farming.

"That's a relief then," Angus grunted.

"Why? What's happened? Answer me!" he ended sharply when no one seemed willing to volunteer.

"It may be nothing," Conor said softly. A bulky man, he possessed a compact frame and a quiet intensity made all the more telling by the fact that he rarely spoke unless he had matters of import on his mind. He was a good man, solid as a rock in a crisis, but rather odd and solitary. The only reason Riley could tell the others included him in their outgoing group was because of his older brother, the more sociable Sean. He reminded Riley a little of Gavrin, perhaps one of the reasons he resisted drawing close to him.

"What?" The word came out harsher than he intended as he glared at the man.

Conor didn't answer. "There's been no hide nor hair of the fleet. The rumor has it there's been sharp gales off the coast," Angus started.

"Angus, that's all it is: rumor. We don't know anything fer sure so why don't ye shut yer gob," Conor retorted. Green eyes snapped at Angus and the other man's face darkened.

"Don' ye be tellin' me what to do, ye tiny bastard. I'm not sayin' anything no one else is sayin' and Riley would only hear it from someone else."

"That's still no reason to be gossipin' like an old woman." Conor turned to Riley, his voice softening in sympathy. "Riley, it may be nothing at all. What does yer da have to say about it?"

"I-I haven't seen him," Riley admitted. His mind raced back over the past few days. He'd come home after spending time wandering the meager countryside, or what passed for it around this bustling metropolis, to find Cordelia trying on new shoes in front of a tall mirror in the hallway. Mirrors were a costly luxury that she'd never seen before coming to this city and she could never get enough of her own reflection. She'd barely turned her head when Riley asked her about their father; she'd murmured something about how he'd gone tearing out of the house after one of their counting house messengers had visited them hours before.

Messengers often came to the house with news or other. She'd thought nothing of it and neither had Riley. Now he wished he'd questioned her further about it. He stood up abruptly, startling the others with the suddenness of his movement. "Where are ya goin', Riley?," Conor asked.

"Home. Maybe da's gotten back by now." He called for Brigid, slapping money down on the table, and took off before the others could say another word.

She stared after him, dismayed at his rapid exit. "Well, there's a fine thing! Not even a kiss on the cheek." She turned towards the others, her hands akimbo on her wide hips. "What did ye say to him to have him go off in such a hurry?"

"Nothin'!" Angus protested.

"Nothin'? Ye call tellin' him his father's ships may be sunk to the bottom of the ocean nothin'?" Barney demanded.

Brigid sat next to them, her duty momentarily forgotten. "Is that it? Oh, poor Riley. Was there a fortune on 'em, do ya think?"

"They say the old man spent a lot to get them into the water. Could be he'll go into debt if none of them return." Angus lifted his tankard and took another drink of his brew, avoiding the irritated stares of his cronies. He wasn't entirely heartless. He was sorry for Riley; it was tough on any man to lose everything he had in one day. But he loved his ale and not even another man's tragedy could keep him from it for long.

__________

Elizabeth sat on Cordelia's bed and swung her feet impatiently while she watched her sisters try out their new finery. "Riley said ye'd tell me..."

" 'You'd' tell me. We're in the city now, Elizabeth. You can't keep talking like a peasant." Even after seven years in the city, her country speech continued to cling to Elizabeth, much to her sister's annoyance. That's why they didn't take her shopping with them. It wouldn't look good to run into one of their rich, high society friends with their tagalong sister dropping her coarse accents everywhere. Elizabeth simply hadn't gone to the same lengths to purge all her ways even though Cordelia and Darla tried mightily on every occasion. But unsubtle correction usually caused her to exaggerate her old accent. Cordelia and Darla knew this so they nagged her about her speech as a way of distracting her from embarrassing questions.

"I am a peasant and so are ye, Cordelia Meaghan Patricia Finn. Stop givin'-"

"GIVING. Accent the last letter. And you know you're trying to fit in as much as the rest of us." Darla tried on one of her new hats and turned her head, surveying herself carefully in the polished glass. It had appeared to suit her to perfection when she tried it on in the shop and the saleswoman had raved about how the pale pink color accentuated her creamy complexion. The slim, green ribbon around the crown was also a perfect match to her eyes and the sea foam green watery silk of her dress. The saleswoman had also assured her the gown was the latest fashion from Paris but Darla knew it could take a while for style changes to make their way across the ocean. Still, it did do wondrous things for her face and figure and she smiled at her own reflection.

Elizabeth made a face at her sister's preening. "I do not try to fit in. I'm not ashamed of meself like you two."

"MYSELF," Cordelia chimed in. She walked back and forth on the hardwood floors. They could have gotten soft carpeting laid down. But in the end she and Darla had been swayed by the desire to hear their own footsteps as they marched smartly across the oaken panels. The new shoes were divine, the heels giving her already imposing height an additional regal stature and grace. They pinched a bit about the instep but that was to be expected. Constant pacing across the floor would soon take care of that and wouldn't she look grand, parading down the streets of Galway in her new fine clothes.

Elizabeth folded her arms and threw herself gracelessly across Cordelia's bed. "The pair of you have got real swelled heads, ye know that?"

"Father brought us out to Galway to better ourselves, to get ourselves a splendid new life," Darla explained. "So what's wrong with doing just that? He saw it was what mother wanted for us, so you think you'd try harder to please him."

"That's not why da did it and ye know it," Elizabeth said flatly. "Ma didn't want this new life for us; she was content with the old one. Riley says da brought us here to get away from the thought of her. Riley says da misses her but he won't say naught about it. Riley says..."

"Riley says, Riley says," Cordelia mimicked in high-pitched tones, mocking her little sister. "Honestly, Elizabeth, you have got to stop clinging so much to Riley. He's a grown man now and he doesn't want a silly little girl always tagging at his heels."

"Riley doesn't mind me being around him. He's not like you," Elizabeth shot back. "And I'd much rather have him for company than watch the two of you scampering around wagging yer heads and stamping yer feet like a brace of empty-headed carriage horses."

The brunette woman shrugged. "As you wish," Cordelia replied coolly. "Then ask him to take you riding with him or drinking down at the pub with the other boys. See what he says to you."

"Maybe I don't want to do those things," Elizabeth muttered.

Darla gazed sympathetically at Elizabeth. As always, she played peacemaker, trying to smooth feathers ruffled by Cordelia's rough tongue. "What Cordelia means to say is Riley's got other interests now and they don't leave much room for playing with you, Lizzy."

"And soon Father'll have him wed and he'll be moving out and setting up his own house. There'll be no time for games with you. He'll be dangling his own children off his knees, see if he doesn't."

Elizabeth jumped off the bed, distressed by Cordelia's teasing. "No, no! He won't do that! He promised he wouldn't leave me!"

"That was seven years ago, when mother died. He said he wouldn't leave you then because you were hurting so much. We all were," she added sharply. She'd been sometimes upset by Riley and her da's favoritism of Elizabeth although she did her best to hide it. It was never easy being the middle child.

Darla surged onwards. "But you can't seriously expect him to stay here forever, doing nothing, killing time..."

"Why not? It's what you do," Elizabeth pointed out with a smirk.

Darla's lips thinned but she did her best to smooth her tone. "We're making ourselves presentable for our future husbands. Riley must go out and seek himself a wife. That's just the way of the world, my girl, and you'll just have to get used to it."

"No, I won't! Riley's my brother and he's staying with me!" she shouted.

Cordelia opened her mouth, no doubt to make a scathing comment about how Riley was her brother too, but a warning look from her elder sister warned her against it. Darla bent before Elizabeth, watching her baby sister's chin wobble as she fought back tears. "Elizabeth, Riley will always love you. That won't change. But family isn't always enough. Haven't you ever looked at a boy and felt...anything for him besides a passing fancy?"

Gray-green eyes sparked defiantly. "No."

"Not even Ryan, the milliner's son?" she added with a knowing smile.

Cordelia sniffed. "As if father would let her marry a milliner's son," she murmured.

Darla shot her another look. "Ryan is a splendid lad, though, isn't he, Elizabeth? I've seen you looking at him," she said.

"Ryan? No, he's stupid like the other boys." Nevertheless, a telltale flush flew across her cheeks and her sisters exchanged meaningful glances.

"Maybe he is. He's short," Cordelia mused.

"With sandy, scraggy hair like a marmalade tomcat," Darla added.

"An ugly mole."

"Big feet."

"Bad skin."

"He doesn't look like that. He's much better than you two when you get all painted up like dolls!" Elizabeth protested hotly.

"Oh, so you DO like him!" Cordelia crowed in triumph. "I thought as much."

"And he probably likes you, too, Elizabeth," Darla told her. "You've reached the age when boys will look at you like Ryan does and think you're pretty and special."

Elizabeth faltered. "R-Ryan thinks I'm pretty? You're not just saying that?"

"Riley's heard him talking with the other boys and he's told us." That wasn't true; Riley wouldn't exchange gossip with his sisters if they were the last people on earth but Elizabeth didn't need to know that. "Ryan's tumbling for you, sweet. All you have to do is make some effort and he'll be at your feet, a helpless slave to your charms."

Cordelia knew a cue when she heard one. She lifted off the lid of an unopened box. "And here's just the thing to turn his head." She hefted the frothy concoction and held it out enticingly. The hat was a trim white number with a curving brim and red velvet roses perched on the top. There were two straps in sky blue fastened to the edges and Elizabeth stared at it for several precious seconds.

The younger girl cocked her head uncertainly, looking from the hat to her two watchful sisters. Although she claimed to be bored by the very idea of just marching around staring into shop windows and trying on an endless parade of clothing, she'd secretly envied Cordelia and Darla's frequent jaunts to the city. And the hat was topped with her most favorite flowers in the world. "I-is that for me?"

"Of course! Darla didn't like the straps and it's much too small for me." Cordelia plopped it on her younger sister's golden curls before Elizabeth could object.

The younger girl reached up to hold the hat steady and stepped in front of the mirror. At first it dipped down over her eyes and she couldn't see what she looked like. Then Darla began adjusting it, both older sisters crying out with delight.

"Look at that!" Cordelia brushed her hand down Elizabeth's cheek, adjusting the straps as she went. "The blue ribbons really bring out your eyes."

"You're so pretty, Elizabeth!" Darla cooed. "Maybe we should put her hair up in the back; that would tilt the hat forward and show up the flowers better."

"And let's see how she looks with the shoes." Cordelia knelt to handle another unopened box.

"You got me shoes, too?" Elizabeth paused in admiring her altered reflection and peered over Cordelia's shoulder.

"Oh yes. And new gloves. Hats, shoes and gloves must go together. These have roses, too." The brunette girl held up the pair, wagging them at the eager hazel-eyed blonde.

Elizabeth snatched at them, running her fingers over the delicate whorls of cloth on the insteps. "They do have roses! Oh, they're so sweet. Thank you, Cordy, Dar! You're the best sisters ever!" She hugged her sisters about their waists, not seeing the grimaces from the other two girls at the awful nicknames.

"Careful, darling. You'll crush my new dress," Darla said, easing out of Elizabeth's grip. "Well, get on the bed and we'll see how these look on you." Elizabeth complied, scrambling onto the quilted cover, and kicked off her muddy shoes.

Riley's mind whirled as he walked up the driveway. He should have questioned Cordelia more when he'd seen her earlier in the week. The woman might have had her head turned by all the furbelows she bought but she could be made to talk sense on occasion. But maybe his da had come home by now. Maybe all that idle talk at the pub was just that: talk. He wouldn't bother himself more than he needed to.

He opened the door and tread lightly up the stairs. Even though seven years had passed since his woodland skills were needed, he couldn't help but move silently wherever he went. He paused in front of Cordelia's door and heard Elizabeth's voice first. Her distinctive tones rang in shrill delight as she tried on whatever piece of clothing the other women were showing her.

He listened for awhile, noting the childish joy and hint of womanly pride as she admired herself and they talked about the various lads in town and whom they hoped to marry. He heard Ryan's name and smiled wistfully. [Little Lizzy's growing up. The others have, too. But they're still just women folk. I'll not worry them until there's need. We can take care of ourselves just fine until da gets home. No need to fret them before then.]

He let his hand drop away from the knob and turned away. [Da, let it be all right. Please let it be all right. For Lizzy's sake, anyway. She's got dreams of the future in this place; they all do. They couldn't bear it if that were all taken away.]

Still, deep down under those thoughts ran a treacherous undercurrent of unspoken desire. If da was ruined by this latest seafaring venture, they would have to go back home, abandon this place where he'd been so restless and unhappy. His mind ran again on the simple delights he'd once known. To see Michael and Gavrin again, to smell once more the deep, earthy scent of the plants, leaves, trees and wild beasts and the feel of country air on his skin-that would be heaven.

But there was more than his faded dreams at stake. Yet if all turned out well, his sisters would marry, his da might retire and live well on heaps of money and no one would care what a certain Riley Finn did with his time. In spite of his father's protests, he might simply turn around go back to his old life. How could his father stop him if he was well and truly determined to leave?
Riley went back down to the lower floor. Looking out the front window, he willed his father to return and resolve the current dilemma.

__________

"Mr. Finn, it's been three days since you've been here in town and six weeks since the fleet was due in." Mr. Morgan shifted in his chair, soft white fingers laced over his protruding stomach. Mr. Charles Finn was a prominent, shrewd man of business, more so than anyone in town had considered him to be when he arrived on the scene less than ten years ago. But he was still a newcomer, only seven years in town, and certainly not as important as some of Mr. Morgan's other clientele. The solicitor could count members of the lesser nobility among his clients and Mr. Finn was just an upstart, after all. Nevertheless, at the end of the day it was money that mattered not title and he let no sign of his thoughts cross his bland face.

Mr. Finn ran his hand through his hair. It was still as black as when Mary had first seen it although now a bit thinning on top. "Only a few more days, Mr. Morgan. That's all I ask."

The other spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Mr. Finn, were it up to me, I'd give you another month. But your creditors have gotten wind of the storms off the coast of Africa and the loss of your ships-"

"Possible loss," Mr. Finn snapped. "There's been no definite word yet."

"There's been no word at all and that is the problem," Mr. Morgan pointed out. "It doesn't look good and these men want their money. You could take out another loan, if you wish, and try to salvage the monies needed elsewhere in the meantime."

"And get further into debt? No thanks. That's nae me way." Mr. Finn had done his utmost to turn himself into something of a gentleman. But in times of stress his tongue slipped and his country accent came to the fore and betrayed his humble upbringing.

Mr. Morgan gave no sign he'd noticed. "Then I suggest you get home and start making a list of your assets and property and see what you're willing to part with. News of this kind of financial misfortune has a way of spreading around and, once other businessmen get wind of it, you could find yourself persona non grata amongst them."

Mr. Finn didn't know what the Latin phrase meant. He barely knew his catechism. But he refrained from asking. He'd come to Mr. Morgan with the monies from his sale of the sheep and his wife's jewelry years ago and seen the man's eyes gleam with greed. Since then Mr. Morgan had been respectful towards him always. But he'd secretly suspected the man held him in mild contempt and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing his ignorance. "There's nothing you can do for me then?"

Again, plump hands were spread. "Go home, Mr. Finn, and start tidying up your affairs. Mayhap you'll have enough to cover your debts and start over in life. You're a young man still, only in middle years, and one of the most cunning businessmen I've ever seen. If any man could turn around from this misfortune, I'd wager you are that man."

Mr. Finn grunted and clapped his hat on his head, turning on his heel. The flattering words of his solicitor did little to mollify him; he suspected there would be difficult times ahead and he started turning over in his mind which goods from his manorial home he could afford to sell.

[We'd had hard times before. Sheep farmers don't always have an easy time of it. We'll shoulder on through this.] The inner thoughts braced him a little and if there was a niggling fear along with them he did his best to crush it underfoot. He was a Finn and Finns were survivors, tough as nails and hard as iron.

__________

Riley peered out from behind the shuttered windows toward the front gate. Was that his father? No, this man was big enough but he was wide as a barrel across the chest and another man shortly joined him. The two of them were very similar in appearance and both carried long black canes, of a strange wood he'd never seen before, bound with iron bands across the top. They held them across their chests and surveyed their surroundings with flat eyes the color of agates. Something in their posture reminded him of Gavrin when the man was poised to shoot an unsuspecting animal and Riley tensed.

The two men appeared satisfied and nodded sharply. They parted and a smaller man dressed in a dark blue serge cloak came between them. He ran his eyes over the front of the house and smiled as if eating a tasty morsel. Then he began marching up the walk.

Riley ran to the front door in time to see Grace open it in response to the little man's rap on the door. As he stepped in, the man blinked to see Riley standing there with folded arms while the maid hovered inquisitively in the background. Riley thought he appeared surprised to see him as if he'd thought no one would be at home.

The next moment the man smiled and Riley's jaw clenched. There was a false geniality in this man's looks as if he sought to put people at ease before stabbing them in the back. "Am I addressing the man of the house?"

"You are," Riley grunted. "At least until me da gets back."

"Ah, then you would be Mr. Finn's son-Riley, is it?"

"That would be me."

The man stepped forward, his hand extended. "I'm Mr. Cather of Dombey and Son." Riley stared down at him, making no move to take his hand and after a moment Mr. Cather let it drop. He seemed unconcerned with Riley's overt hostility and began moving around the living room, fingering the lace curtains and picking up a vase of delicate blue with leaves twined around it. He turned it in his fingers, apparently having dismissed the stalwart boy and Riley's eyes narrowed.

"What is that to me and what do ya think yer doin' in here, touching me da's things?"

Mr. Cather smiled again and replaced the vase back on its place on the lace-covered table. "You've heard of the company of Dombey and Son, I take it."

"No, can't say as I have. Are ye butchers?" Riley asked, glancing at the oversized oxen. They had parked themselves close to Mr. Cather and were watching Riley with that unblinking stare he'd noted earlier. But otherwise they hadn't moved nor spoken.

Mr. Cather laughed in a stiff fashion. "Ah, you're doubtless referring to the beefy looks of my associates, Cal and Job. No, Mr. Finn, Dombey and Son are respected names in town. We are the assessors and repossessors of properties like those formerly belonging to your father."

Riley bristled. "Formerly? What the hell are ye talkin' about?" His accent had gotten thicker, anger coloring its tone.

"Mr. Finn, surely you've heard the news in town?" Riley's eyes flickered as he recalled the pub talk and Mr. Cather obviously saw it. "I see you have. Your father has come into a bit of bad luck and I'm afraid his creditors are demanding to be paid. Dombey and Son is among them and we thought we'd get here first and collect our share before the others get wind of it and descend in a hoard." He ran his hands along a nearby cherry wood table and Riley's temper flared.

"No, I haven't heard naught about it and I'll thank ye to keep yer grubby mitts off me da's property!" He lunged forward only to encounter the bulky presence of Cal-or was it Job?-blocking his path.

Mr. Cather sighed and made a moue as if annoyed at the display of violence. He reached inside his vest and brought out a folded sheet of paper. He snapped it open so Riley could see the official seal and the sprawl of his father's uncertain handwriting at the bottom.

"Mr. Finn, here is an invoice duly signed and notarized by your father and two witnesses that gives me the right to seize such property as I see fit to cover the debt of your father's loan. Payment has been due and owing these past six weeks and we simply cannot wait any longer for our property. I would have preferred that Mr. Charles Finn himself had been here to oversee the legality of the proceedings so as to avoid any-unpleasantness. But my two associates are here for the express purpose of helping me to enforce the law and they will not hesitate to take matters into their own hands if they deem it necessary."

He stepped past Riley into the adjoining setting room as if the matter were settled and the Finn boy saw red. The Finns were often noted for their obstinacy where another man would have given in and Riley's discontent and unhappiness saw a perfect target. Forgetting the walking sideshows he grabbed at Mr. Cather and flung him back hard enough to make him stagger. "Get yerself gone. If ye want to take my father's things, ye can come back here with the magistrate. But it'll take more than a pretty sheet of paper to convince me yer not a lying son of a bitch."

Mr. Cather blinked and Riley was warned by a faint shifting sound behind him. He leaped aside in time to avoid a well-placed blow to his head. Instead the truncheon missed and connected with his shoulder, hard enough to make him stagger and cry out. The blow was followed up with one to his leg and he crumpled to the floor, clutching his shin in pain. Grace screamed and Mr. Cather held up one slim hand.

Riley looked up to see Cal and Job poised with staves raised above his head. "That'll be enough, gentlemen. I'm sure Mr. Finn has learned his lesson. Now help him to a seat and draw the wagon up the walk. I can see we've got a bit of work to do here."

__________

It was a lengthy ride from the docks. Not that Mr. Finn minded. It gave him plenty of time to think. He would have to curtail the girls' spending for quite a bit of time. Cordelia and Darla would wail, no doubt, and then try to cajole him. Since their mother had died, he'd been a bit too indulgent of them, pandering to their whims more than he should have. But that would have to change and he could put his foot down when he needed.

He sighed when he thought of Elizabeth. She clung tenaciously to her family and she never demanded as much as her greedy sisters. At times she looked so much like her dearly departed mother it hurt to look at her. So perhaps he catered to her desires just a bit more than those of Cordelia and Darla's. It helped that she didn't ask for as much as they did.

He wondered what Riley would make of it. Doubtless the lad would be glad to be quit of this place; he'd always hated Galway and made no secret of his wish to leave it all behind if he could. But the man had shown as little interest in being a merchant as he had a sheep farmer. So what would he do in the future?

Charles raised his voice as he rode the horse to the back of the house. "Grace! Open the latch! I'm home!" He frowned when there was no answer and then sighed in annoyance. The girl was a trifle slow to answer in the best of times; she may have been in the front of the house where it was harder to hear. It looked like he'd have to get the horse into the stable by himself.
His thoughts came to a sharp halt as he opened the back door and heard the anguished cries from the girls in the front of the house. He ran through the kitchen, setting room and living room only to halt in shock.

The room had been stripped bare, only the pictures left hanging on the walls. The furniture was gone as were all of the knick-knacks and trimmings. Even the lace curtains had been removed leaving empty rods nailed to the walls above the windows. "What the hell?" He stepped forward only to see his son leaning back against the remaining couch, his arm wrapped around a sobbing Darla. "What the devil's going on here?"

"Creditors, da," Riley replied in a monotone.

"The creditors? They came already?" he asked in dismay.

Darla looked up. "Already? You knew? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I-I didn't know, lass. I only heard the story a few days ago when I was in town. I kept holding out for good news all this while."

"Well, you could have sent a messenger! A warning would have been nice!" That came from Elizabeth who'd come running in when she heard her father's voice. "Those big, mean men hurt Riley!"

"They did?" Mr. Finn took a harder look at his only son. Riley was sporting a big bruise along the side of his face, the imprint of meaty fingers already turning black and blue.

"It's nothin', da. I've had worse shavin'." The man attempted to smile and abandoned the effort with a wince.
Cordelia came in, distress in her brown eyes. "They've taken everything!"

"Almost everything." Darla scrubbed at her cheeks. "We managed to keep them from taking our clothes by telling them they hadn't been paid for so we kept those."

"Then we'll have to give those back to the milliner's when they demand we pay or return the goods," Mr. Finn said in a voice as dead as his son's.

"No, father. That's what we told them. The clothes are paid for so they're ours and the creditors didn't seize them. We can keep those at any route," Darla stated smugly.

"But everything else... Father, what are we going to do?" Elizabeth whispered.

He sat on the couch beside his son and extended his arms wordlessly. His other two daughters nestled under them although they were almost too big to fit comfortably. The uncertain future hung over them and none of them could bear to repeat Elizabeth's question.

"Where all of the man is what property he owns, it does not take long to annihilate him." - Henry Ward Beecher (1813 - 1887), Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit (1887)


TBC