stored beneath one seat, along with a pillow to cushion the ride more than the deeply padded seats and backrests already provided.
Cosima watched the trees on Escott land disappear, making way for rolling green hills. Escott land, so titled now, although before her mother had married Charles Escott, it had been Kennesey land. Grandma Josephine Kennesey had many children, but only three survived childhood. Several died in infancy, another at age seven when a simple cut on her foot became infected and led to a fatal fever. Josephine’s oldest boy, a brilliant and promising heir, was killed in a riding accident at age fifteen. That left only the three: Cosima’s mother, Mary; her younger sister, Rowena; and her brother Willie.
By English law, Irish inheritances were to be evenly split among the offspring—an old law meant to divide and conquer. But the Kennesey family, like many, resisted in any way they could. It was easy to prove Willie unfit to inherit, and once Rowena wed she signed a certificate to hand over her claim to Mary so the land would not be partitioned. A small protest, but one that made the family happy.
And so Mary had become the sole heir. Then through Mama’s marriage to a Protestant Englishman, the land left the hands of Irish Catholics and passed to the English in a bloodless conquest. If there was a curse, many Irish thought it appropriate that Mama had passed it along to the English through her marriage.
The Hale carriage passed the countryside in silence for some time, and Cosima found her gaze on the man seated across from her. In the four days of Reginald’s visit to Escott Manor, he’d proven to be witty and well mannered, which pleased Cosima’s mother. He also engaged Cosima’s father and, not as obviously, Cosima herself with his keen knowledge regarding the plight afflicting Irish farming, politics, and society.
Despite the fact that he’d made clear his intention to marry Cosima, he’d spent remarkably little energy getting to know her beyond polite conversation. She had wondered if he was saving more intimate investigation of her for when they could be relatively alone—as now. Only Millie accompanied them, but a lady’s maid was expected to be both blind and deaf regarding personal matters of her mistress. Certainly now was the opportunity for Cosima and Reginald to get to know one another, before vows were exchanged.
While Reginald did not seem the shy sort, Cosima wondered if he needed help or encouragement in private conversation. She was not at all reconciled to the idea of marrying Reginald, but if he continued to be as persuasive as he had been with her parents, what reason could she give, even to herself, not to marry him?
“You mentioned to my parents that you lost your own parents some time ago, Sir Reginald. Will there be any . . . other family . . . expecting to meet me?”
Still studying the landscape, he spoke. “I have no family.” His tone was dull, flat. At last he looked at her, and his gaze seemed the same. Though especially blue in the sunlight pouring through the window, his eyes spoke one message: disinterest.
Cosima’s initial desire for conversation waned. She slid a glance toward Millie, who, true to her position, kept her eyes forward.
“You are not coming to England to gain some sort of approval, Cosima,” Reginald said quietly, surprising her with his tender tone. “You need only please me, and that you have done.”
She looked at him again. He seemed to have returned to the man he’d been around her parents: friendly and approachable. She smiled. “I’m glad that I do, Sir Reginald. Only we hardly know one another. I fear whatever pleasure you have in me can only be of the shallowest kind. I do hope this visit to your home will be a means for us to know one another better.”
“Of course,” he said, congenially enough. “What is it you wish to learn?”
She had no answer for the unexpected question. Her idea for getting to know a
Cosima watched the trees on Escott land disappear, making way for rolling green hills. Escott land, so titled now, although before her mother had married Charles Escott, it had been Kennesey land. Grandma Josephine Kennesey had many children, but only three survived childhood. Several died in infancy, another at age seven when a simple cut on her foot became infected and led to a fatal fever. Josephine’s oldest boy, a brilliant and promising heir, was killed in a riding accident at age fifteen. That left only the three: Cosima’s mother, Mary; her younger sister, Rowena; and her brother Willie.
By English law, Irish inheritances were to be evenly split among the offspring—an old law meant to divide and conquer. But the Kennesey family, like many, resisted in any way they could. It was easy to prove Willie unfit to inherit, and once Rowena wed she signed a certificate to hand over her claim to Mary so the land would not be partitioned. A small protest, but one that made the family happy.
And so Mary had become the sole heir. Then through Mama’s marriage to a Protestant Englishman, the land left the hands of Irish Catholics and passed to the English in a bloodless conquest. If there was a curse, many Irish thought it appropriate that Mama had passed it along to the English through her marriage.
The Hale carriage passed the countryside in silence for some time, and Cosima found her gaze on the man seated across from her. In the four days of Reginald’s visit to Escott Manor, he’d proven to be witty and well mannered, which pleased Cosima’s mother. He also engaged Cosima’s father and, not as obviously, Cosima herself with his keen knowledge regarding the plight afflicting Irish farming, politics, and society.
Despite the fact that he’d made clear his intention to marry Cosima, he’d spent remarkably little energy getting to know her beyond polite conversation. She had wondered if he was saving more intimate investigation of her for when they could be relatively alone—as now. Only Millie accompanied them, but a lady’s maid was expected to be both blind and deaf regarding personal matters of her mistress. Certainly now was the opportunity for Cosima and Reginald to get to know one another, before vows were exchanged.
While Reginald did not seem the shy sort, Cosima wondered if he needed help or encouragement in private conversation. She was not at all reconciled to the idea of marrying Reginald, but if he continued to be as persuasive as he had been with her parents, what reason could she give, even to herself, not to marry him?
“You mentioned to my parents that you lost your own parents some time ago, Sir Reginald. Will there be any . . . other family . . . expecting to meet me?”
Still studying the landscape, he spoke. “I have no family.” His tone was dull, flat. At last he looked at her, and his gaze seemed the same. Though especially blue in the sunlight pouring through the window, his eyes spoke one message: disinterest.
Cosima’s initial desire for conversation waned. She slid a glance toward Millie, who, true to her position, kept her eyes forward.
“You are not coming to England to gain some sort of approval, Cosima,” Reginald said quietly, surprising her with his tender tone. “You need only please me, and that you have done.”
She looked at him again. He seemed to have returned to the man he’d been around her parents: friendly and approachable. She smiled. “I’m glad that I do, Sir Reginald. Only we hardly know one another. I fear whatever pleasure you have in me can only be of the shallowest kind. I do hope this visit to your home will be a means for us to know one another better.”
“Of course,” he said, congenially enough. “What is it you wish to learn?”
She had no answer for the unexpected question. Her idea for getting to know a
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