Flight of the Earls Read Online Free PDF Page B

never to see it again. There was a reason why they called these traditional Irish farewells an “American Wake.” Few ever returned.
    A soft and nurturing voice fluttered above the chattering of celebration. “Are you okay, dear?”
    â€œPardon?” Clare turned to see Fiona MacBrennan beside her.
    â€œIs everything all right with you, Clare?” The woman who had become her surrogate mother since Ma’s illness peered at her with lively and caring brown eyes, framed in a deep wrinkled face.
    â€œOh yes, mam. It’s a lovely day. A lovely day.” Clare reached to grab another potato to cut.
    â€œYou lie poorly.”
    â€œDo I?” Clare laughed. Fiona had eight grown children and twenty-four grandchildren, yet she always made time for Clare.
    â€œAren’t you going to miss us at all?”
    â€œOf course, Mrs. MacBrennan. Certainly I will.”
    â€œWell, then, shouldn’t we be getting a tad more attention than those taters?”
    Clare looked down at the large pile of potatoes she had stacked and grinned. “I suppose.”
    â€œLiam spent dearly on all of this, you know.”
    The mention of her father’s extravagance raised Clare’s ire. There he was perched on a tree stump, blowing smoke rings from his pipe. He was soaking in the stories and laughter of the parish’s men, who were taking a rare Sunday off from their heavy labors. As host and supplier of the music, food, and libation, her father found himself in an uncommon position of honor today, a role he was relishing.
    â€œI was fond of that cow,” Clare said. “There’s a big risk in selling her to buy our passages . . . and for all of this . . . merriment . . . don’t you think?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter how he paid for all of this, it’s that he did.”
    â€œWell, it’s troubling to think of how little we’ll be leaving behind, what with the winter approaching.” Clare enjoyed being able to confide with the woman.
    Fiona clasped Clare’s arm and pointed. “I see Seamus, at least, is making good on your father’s investment.” There, off a ways, was Clare’s brother, entertaining three young girls.
    Clare sighed. Oh, to live a life so free of worry.
    â€œWhy don’t you leave this drudgery to old women.” Fiona took a half-chopped potato and the knife from Clare’s hand. “That way, we can gossip without fear of corrupting a young one.”
    A large cheer broke out from the dancers. There was Pierce Brady, grandstanding with a solo jig, his curly red hair bouncing, kicking up his legs and waving his arms with a lusty expression of youth. The crowd encircled Pierce, encouraging him with applause and whistles.
    An elbow poked at Clare’s arm.
    â€œThere’s your boy, eh?” Fiona had a taunting smile.
    Clare’s face warmed. “Is that what you gossip about?”
    â€œOh, I know you don’t fancy the lad. It’s just you’ve been frustrating we meddlers for a while. Seems to be from a good family. The Bradys practically run this town, if it weren’t for the landlords.”
    â€œMaybe it’s not power I’m craving. Perhaps I don’t want to be Queen of Branlow.”
    â€œCould be worse. You could have been a plain looker like myself.” Fiona nudged Clare. “There. Right behind you, two lads deciding who’ll have the courage to ask the town’s most beautiful woman for a dance.”
    Clare couldn’t resist her curiosity and glanced over her shoulder to see the Finley twins ogling her. The boys were handsome and hardworking, and a nuisance to Clare. She spun back to Fiona. “What’s wrong with me?”
    â€œOh, child. God made you special, ’tis all, full of dreams and great expectations.”
    â€œNow you sound like my grandma.”
    Fiona chopped the last of the carrots. “If you see a hint of Ella in this withered