"What has happened here?" Jasmine asked Rory Maguire.
"Not all landlords are like you, my lady," he replied. "You know the penalties placed upon those who follow the Catholic faith. Many have been driven off their lands because they will not convert to Protestantism. It is that simple."
"But these landlords are not even in Ireland," Jasmine said. "What difference does it make to them as long as the land is worked properly and is prosperous for them?"
"They appoint agents who follow the letter of the law," he explained. "Most are English as are the settlers. We have Scots landlords too, but for now the Scots remain in Scotland, except for those who are able to give up their clan ties to seek lands of their own."
"What happens to the people?" she queried him.
"They go to relations in parts of Ireland where the laws are not so assiduously followed. They flee into the more remote regions, living a more primitive existence. They die. A few emigrate to France and Spain. There are no other choices."
"It is the way of the world," Fortune said quietly, surprising them. "I have learned this in my studies, and Mother has often said that it is so. One tribe conquers another, and another, and so forth. Nothing remains the same forever. Like my mother, however, I see no necessity for what is happening in Ireland. Bigotry is wrong, and it is cruel."
"There's just as much of it on one side as the other," Rory told the girl. "At Maguire's Ford we are fortunate to have two men of religion who are liberal and open-minded, but such a thing is unique. For as many Protestant ministers who tell their flocks that Catholicism is a wicked, idol-worshipping faith, there are an equal number of Catholic priests howling that the Protestants are dirty heretics who ought to be burned, and if not here on earth, then surely in hell, for they are the devil's own spawn. Such thoughts do not lead to understanding, or tolerance, my lady. There are, I fear, and am sorry to say, far more John Appletons upon this earth, than people like yer mam."
"You like my mother, don't you?" Fortune observed, moving her gelding next to his.
His heart contracted in his chest, but Rory Maguire flashed her a casual grin. "Aye, my lady, I do. I always have. It must be the Irish in her for she's got a big heart, does the lady Jasmine."
"My mother says if I remain in Ireland I should keep you on because you can be trusted, and few men can," Fortune said.
"Perhaps yer husband will have other ideas, lady," he replied.
Fortune looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It was a look he recognized, but it was certainly not her mother's look. "My husband will have no say in the management of Maguire's Ford," Fortune said. "If I marry William Devers, he will not be in possession of my lands. He has his own. The women in my family do not give over their wealth to the men they wed. It is unthinkable!"
He laughed aloud. "Yer mam has raised you well, my lady Fortune," Rory Maguire said, vastly amused, but also relieved when she continued.
"If Iwed William Devers, you will retain your place, Rory Maguire," Fortune said. "Besides, I will need you to teach me all about the business of the horses. I know little about horses but that I like them very much and enjoy riding them."
"You know how to talk to the horses," he said. "I saw how you conversed with Thunder before you got on his back. Who taught you to do that, my lady Fortune?"
Fortune looked puzzled a moment, and then she said, "No one, Rory Maguire. I have always done it before mounting a strange beast. It only seemed polite. My sister and brothers make fun of me for it, but I've never been thrown, or had any difficulty since my very first pony." Fortune explained to him.
"Ahh, now that's the Irish in you," he said with a smile.
"I like you, Rory Maguire," Fortune told him.
"I like you, Lady Fortune Mary Lindley," he answered her.
"How do you know my full name?" Fortune was surprised.
"Do you not know, my lady, that I am your godfather?" he replied.
"You are? Mama," Fortune called to her mother who was riding just behind her. "Is that true? Is Rory Maguire my godfather?"
"Aye," Jasmine said. "He is."
"Then," said Fortune emphatically, "I shall call you Uncle Rory, and you will call me Fortune when we are in private, en famille."
He turned his head to catch Jasmine's eye, and she nodded just barely. "Very well, Fortune," he agreed, his heart warmed by her generosity and her charm. This was no proud m'lady. The people of Maguire's Ford would take to her without question, and they would be able to continue in their peaceable ways provided that William Devers did not interfere with his bride's authority. Rory wondered how the young man would take to the notion that Fortune would control her own lands and her own wealth. If Rory knew Jasmine, the bridegroom would sign a legal document before he took a step down the aisle to claim the flame-haired beauty.
The rain gradually slipped away, and by the time they had stopped to rest the horses and eat a bit of bread and cheese, the sun was shining. From the look of the sky it would be sunny the rest of the afternoon, Rory decided. Looking about him he saw several familiar landmarks, and realized that because of their early start they would reach Maguire's F'ord by midafternoon. Surreptitiously he watched the byplay between Jasmine and James Leslie. They were so openly and plainly in love with one another that he felt actual physical pain in his heart. Whatever he had said to Adali last night, whatever he said to Father Cullen Butler, there had always been one tiny secret place within him that yet hoped she would love him. Now he could see quite plainly that it would never be. The knowledge was as if something had died within him at that same moment. He sighed deeply and audibly.$$
Hearing the sound Fortune, who was sitting next to Rory Maguire in the grass, turned. "What is the matter, Uncle Rory?" she said. "That is the saddest sound I have ever heard." She laid her head upon his shoulder and took his hand in hers. "Do not be sad."
Her compassion quite took him by surprise. He felt his eyes filling with tears which he quickly blinked back. "Ahh, lassie, we Irish are oft-times subject to black moods that come suddenly upon us." He gave the elegant little hand holding his a small squeeze. "It's all right, and now if you are ready we should be going." He arose and drew her up. "You were such a wee babe, Fortune Mary Lindley, and now what a fine lady you have grown up to be."
"I wondered where those dark humors came from, Uncle Rory. I get them too. That, also, must be the Irish in me," Fortune said. "For a girl whose father was English, and whose mother is a mixture of English and Mughal, I seem to have a lot of my Irish great-grandmother in me," the girl chuckled.
They rode on at a more leisurely pace now, the coach lumbering along behind them. The afternoon was bright, the sun warm upon their backs. Finally they topped a hill. Below was a long stretch of blue water which Rory told Fortune was upper Lough Erne, even as Jasmine explained to her husband. The upper and lower loughs divided the area which was known as Fermanagh, running the length of it before it became the river Erne, which emptied into Donegal Bay at Ballyshannon.