town. Besides, I promised Mama I would bring her the newest music from London."
Eliza laughed. "Oh, very well. A morning walk, and work this afternoon."
"And dancing tonight!"
An hour later, Eliza found herself dressed in a woolen walking gown and her warmest fur-lined cloak, strolling with her sister along Grafton Street toward St. Stephen's Green. She had long ago learned that going against Anna was futile, and in truth, she relished the exercise. City life was making her soft; she doubted she could ride hell-for-leather or walk all over the countryside now.
SL Stephen's Green was the favorite site in Dublin for strolling and riding or for just being seen, and the rare winter sunshine had lured everyone out As Eliza and Anna turned through the gates into the park, they saw they were not alone. The graveled pathways were crowded with chattering, laughing groups and their barking lapdogs.
Yet, even here there was some measure of peace, Eliza thought, linking arms with her sister as they strolled along. The watery pale light gleamed on the elegant buildings lining the square, making the gray stones shimmer. Frost still overlay the grass, but there seemed the promise of warmth in the breeze. The promise of new beginnings.
Eliza smiled, feeling quite absurdly optimistic as she listened to Anna's bright chatter. Until suddenly, in the distance, she heard the unmistakable sound of drumbeats. Everyone near them fell silent, tensely alert as they turned toward that martial echo. Even Anna was quiet, holding tightly to Eliza's arm.
Over the horizon, along the wide, main thoroughfare of the park, came a sight Eliza would vow had come straight up out of Hades. The drummers were followed by standard-bearers, carrying the king's gold lion on red, and the regimental colors of the Thirteenth Regiment of Foot And behind them was the regiment itself, perfectly aligned ranks of marching red coats with glinting gold lace.
St. Stephen's Green was often the site of military show, but usually it was the slightly clumsy maneuvers of local militia and Volunteers. It was a chance to show off their specially designed uniforms and flirt with the pretty girls, a lighthearted indulgence of the Irish love of show.
But this was different This was a real British regiment of real soldiers, their gleaming new weapons on obvious display, their faces hard, etched with focus. They would not be easily dismissed or defeated.
Their appearance, on the main parade ground of Dublin, was meant to show the intent of the Crown and its vessel, Dublin Castle. The hammer blow was coming, and the United Irish had to be prepared.
And at the head of those neat red columns, mounted on a jet-black horse equally caparisoned for war, was Major William Denton.
Eliza studied him as he rode by, the lean, sharp lines of his face shadowed by the brim of his helmet He stared straight ahead, unsmiling, and in that armor of red wool, he was not at all Will.
The grim parade seemed to go on and on, an endless barrier between them and a free Ireland. Even Anna, who could usually be counted on for a comment about handsome officers, was silent as she leaned on Eliza's arm.
"At last" a man growled behind them. "It seemed like the king and Prime Minister Pitt had deserted us to defend ourselves against the rabble!"
"Better late than never, I suppose," another man said. "Though I hear the Thirteenth is to be sent north."
"And leave the streets of Dublin open to murderers!" a woman said shrilly.
"If the north continues to burn, Dublin will certainly be next my dear," the first man said. "Perhaps when the regiment leaves, we should, too?"
"And go where?" the woman said, panic in her words. "No place is safe at all "
"Are they right Eliza?" Anna whispered.
Before Eliza could answer, someone at the edge of the growing crowd started singing. "Oh, croppies, ye'd better be quiet and still. Ye shan't have your liberty, do what ye will. As long as salt water is formed in the deep, a
Eliza laughed. "Oh, very well. A morning walk, and work this afternoon."
"And dancing tonight!"
An hour later, Eliza found herself dressed in a woolen walking gown and her warmest fur-lined cloak, strolling with her sister along Grafton Street toward St. Stephen's Green. She had long ago learned that going against Anna was futile, and in truth, she relished the exercise. City life was making her soft; she doubted she could ride hell-for-leather or walk all over the countryside now.
SL Stephen's Green was the favorite site in Dublin for strolling and riding or for just being seen, and the rare winter sunshine had lured everyone out As Eliza and Anna turned through the gates into the park, they saw they were not alone. The graveled pathways were crowded with chattering, laughing groups and their barking lapdogs.
Yet, even here there was some measure of peace, Eliza thought, linking arms with her sister as they strolled along. The watery pale light gleamed on the elegant buildings lining the square, making the gray stones shimmer. Frost still overlay the grass, but there seemed the promise of warmth in the breeze. The promise of new beginnings.
Eliza smiled, feeling quite absurdly optimistic as she listened to Anna's bright chatter. Until suddenly, in the distance, she heard the unmistakable sound of drumbeats. Everyone near them fell silent, tensely alert as they turned toward that martial echo. Even Anna was quiet, holding tightly to Eliza's arm.
Over the horizon, along the wide, main thoroughfare of the park, came a sight Eliza would vow had come straight up out of Hades. The drummers were followed by standard-bearers, carrying the king's gold lion on red, and the regimental colors of the Thirteenth Regiment of Foot And behind them was the regiment itself, perfectly aligned ranks of marching red coats with glinting gold lace.
St. Stephen's Green was often the site of military show, but usually it was the slightly clumsy maneuvers of local militia and Volunteers. It was a chance to show off their specially designed uniforms and flirt with the pretty girls, a lighthearted indulgence of the Irish love of show.
But this was different This was a real British regiment of real soldiers, their gleaming new weapons on obvious display, their faces hard, etched with focus. They would not be easily dismissed or defeated.
Their appearance, on the main parade ground of Dublin, was meant to show the intent of the Crown and its vessel, Dublin Castle. The hammer blow was coming, and the United Irish had to be prepared.
And at the head of those neat red columns, mounted on a jet-black horse equally caparisoned for war, was Major William Denton.
Eliza studied him as he rode by, the lean, sharp lines of his face shadowed by the brim of his helmet He stared straight ahead, unsmiling, and in that armor of red wool, he was not at all Will.
The grim parade seemed to go on and on, an endless barrier between them and a free Ireland. Even Anna, who could usually be counted on for a comment about handsome officers, was silent as she leaned on Eliza's arm.
"At last" a man growled behind them. "It seemed like the king and Prime Minister Pitt had deserted us to defend ourselves against the rabble!"
"Better late than never, I suppose," another man said. "Though I hear the Thirteenth is to be sent north."
"And leave the streets of Dublin open to murderers!" a woman said shrilly.
"If the north continues to burn, Dublin will certainly be next my dear," the first man said. "Perhaps when the regiment leaves, we should, too?"
"And go where?" the woman said, panic in her words. "No place is safe at all "
"Are they right Eliza?" Anna whispered.
Before Eliza could answer, someone at the edge of the growing crowd started singing. "Oh, croppies, ye'd better be quiet and still. Ye shan't have your liberty, do what ye will. As long as salt water is formed in the deep, a
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