"I would stay with you as long as I can, Mama," Fortune replied, "and I agree with you that now is not a good time for me to have a child. Kieran, of course, shall not know. I suspect Papa never did, and 'tis better that way, isn't it?" She smiled mischievously at her mother.
Jasmine nodded. "You were ever my practical child," she said fondly with a small smile. She hugged Fortune warmly. Then she arose. "Let us go downstairs, poppet. Father Cullen is waiting to marry you in private before your most public marriage ceremony, which is to be performed by the Reverend Steen. Rohana will continue to bring you your posset each morning, and when the time comes for you to leave us, she will give you the recipe, and the ingredients. You must decide if Rois should eventually know, or not."
"Why did you cease taking the potion, Mama?" Fortune asked.
Jasmine placed her palms over her large belly, and smiled. "I thought I was past babies growing in my womb," she said with a chuckle. "My Jemmie and I have enjoyed a generous and bountiful bedsport for two years now without any restraints. Bride Murphy tells me, however, that this can happen to a woman at my time of life. I shall be more careful in the future, I promise you. I had forgotten how hard it is to carry a child the nearer one gets to its birthing. This last sibling of yours is an active creature."
Mother and daughter descended the narrow stairs to the main floor of the castle. There in a small room off the hall Fortune Mary Lindley and Kieran Sean Devers were married in the rites of the Holy Mother Church. Father Cullen then absolved Kieran of the sin he was about to commit by being publicly married again, this time by the very Protestant Samuel Steen, in the little stone church that served the village's non-Catholic population, fast becoming the majority in Maguire's Ford. All the Catholics who would be attending the ceremony had been previously absolved, and Cullen Butler, his priestly vestments put aside, joined his cousin, Jasmine, and her family, for the happy occasion, dressed in a very fashionable black velvet suit.
Fortune walked through the village on her stepfather's arm. Her mother followed in a pony cart along with the priest; Rory Maguire, and Bride Duffy, in her best gown, strode proudly along behind their godchild. The church was filled to overflowing. Sir Shane, his daughter, Lady Colleen Kelly and her husband were in a front pew. Behind him sat Molly Fitzgerald, and her two daughters, Maeve and Aine. If any thought it odd, those thoughts were kept to themselves.
The bride was led up the aisle by the duke. One slender hand rested upon his arm. In the other she carried a small bouquet of creamy, late roses tied with golden ribbons. The Reverend Samuel Steen smiled upon the young couple. There was, after all these years, hope for Kieran Devers. His bride, schooled properly by her parents, would lead him safely into the right church at long last. He would be saved from the wicked and sinful ways of the papists. Love could indeed move mountains. Inspired by this happy turn of events, his rich voice intoned the words of the Anglican marriage rite, the elegant language rising to fill the church. Well-schooled, the bridegroom spoke his part in a calm, clear voice. Even the beautiful bride's voice was heard quite distinctly throughout the church.
Finally they were pronounced man and wife. Kieran Devers took his wife into his strong arms, and kissed her heartily. The church erupted into cheers. Samuel Steen smiled, well pleased by today's turn of events as he watched the happy couple hurry back down the aisle, followed by the duke and duchess, Sir Shane, Lady Colleen, and the others, even that wanton Fitzgerald woman, who despite her licentious behavior seemed to have raised two decent daughters, for all they were Catholics.
The day had been unusually fair, and the sun shone brightly upon the newlyweds. The village had been invited to the wedding feast in the hall. Archery butts were set up in the castle courtyard as well as bowls. In a small field outside on the lake, a group of young men began a rugged game of wind ball, using the inflated bladder of a sheep for their ball.
In the hall tables and benches had been set up below the high board which sat upon a raised dais. The smell of roasting beef and lamb filled the hall. Platters of salmon, trout, ducks, and geese were passed. There were fresh trenchers of bread at every place as well as polished wooden spoons. Game pies, steaming hot and rich with winey gravy, were offered. Roasted capons stuffed with fruit, and broiled rabbit were set out. There were bowls of carrots, peas, and braised lettuces. Sweet butter and fine cheeses were on all the tables. Those at the high board drank rich wine from Archambault. The other guests were well pleased with the casks of brown October ale and cider.
The old bard who had come into Erne Rock's hall some months prior had remained. His days of wandering were over, and he now had a permanent home. He entertained the guests with his songs and tales of an Ireland past that had been filled with giants, fairies, glorious deeds of honor, and great battles. He played upon his well-worn harp, and when he tired, a piper took up a tune. Soon all were well fed, and many pleasantly drunk. Toast after toast was raised to the happy couple. The tables were pushed back against the walls, the piper joined by musicians who played upon flute, cornet, and drums; and the dancing began. Because the guests were mostly country folk, the dances were those most familiar to them: the rounder, the jig, and the somewhat slow and melancholy dump. Many of the women were eager to dance with the bridegroom, but the bride did not lack for partners.
The sun set early, it being October. The fires in the hall burned high. The bride and her groom were suddenly gone. The guests, well-fed and filled with good ale, slowly staggered out, thanking the duke and his wife for a fine time. The family sat by the fire talking together. Lady Colleen had not seen her half-sisters in many years. Now she regretted having been put in the difficult position of having to choose between them and her stepmother. These two younger women were her blood kin, and that had meant something once in Ireland.
"It's too dark now for you to return home," the duke noted to Sir Shane. "You'll stay the night, of course."
Sir Shane nodded. "Aye. Jane will not fret as I've stayed away before, and she thinks Colleen gone home to Dublin with Hugh, but my son-in-law is every bit the rebel Colleen is, aren't you, Hugh?"
Hugh Kelly grinned cheerfully. "Aye, Da," he agreed. "Nonetheless, we'll be on the road to Dublin tomorrow, and 'twill be awhile before we're back. I can only imagine how put out Lady Jane will be when she learns of this rather unique gathering to celebrate the marriage between Kieran and Fortune." He chuckled. "You'll be taking the brunt of her anger, I fear, Da."
"My eldest son is entitled to his happiness too," Shane Devers said quietly. "For expediency's sake I became a Protestant, and for expediency's sake I disinherited my eldest son; but I never disowned him, nor would I deny him his happiness. Jane has gained for her son what she sought. There is no more." He chuckled. "And, James Leslie, my lad doesn't come to your family a pauper. I have arranged for him to have now what would have been his upon my death one day. It has been sent to my goldsmith, Michael Kira, in Dublin. He has had it sent to his Kira cousins in London. Do you know of them?"
"Aye," the duke replied with a smile. "The Kiras have been our bankers for well over a century."
"Well, then, my lad will have his own monies," Shane Devers said. " 'Tis not a great deal, of course, but neither my wife or younger son will be able to deny him what is now his, and I believe they might have done so. Jane has a strict sense of ethics that does not extend to Catholics, I fear." He chuckled again. "She'll not know what I've done until after my death, but I'll not be here then to be scourged by her scolding tongue." He looked at his daughter and son-in-law. "You've heard none of this," he told them sternly.