Emalyn's Treasure Read online

  “Then, wouldn’t you fare better in town?”

  “Not much call in town for our skills,” the beggar said.

  The beggar and the dog seemed to be moving closer. Only a few seconds ago, they were at least six feet away. Now, they were so close she could feel the dog’s breath as he panted.

  Emalyn stepped back.

  “What sort of work do you do?”

  For the first time, the beggar looked at her square in the eyes.

  “We find things,” he said. “Me and Mr. Jones find treasures. Ain’t that right, Mr. Jones?”

  The dog whined and held up a paw. The beggar bent and shook the paw.

  Emalyn could hear her heart beating all the way up to her ears where it throbbed like loud drum beats.

  My treasure? I touched it this morning. It’s safe. It must be. It must be. I have to get rid of him, get him out of here.

  Hands still trembling, she reached into her handbag and drew out a sack which held an apple, an orange, cheese slices, brown bread, and a few slices of roast pork.

  “Here,” she said and tossed it to the beggar. “You’d best be moving on now. There’s no treasure here.”

  “There’s treasure everywhere, Ma’m. You just have to look for it. We thank you, but we’d be mighty grateful if you’d…”

  “I’m late for a meeting. Please move on.”

  Emalyn hurried up the road to the town center of Dungarran, her heart still hammering in her chest, her hands still shaking. She saw Owen waiting just as she crested the hill. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Oh, Owen, thank goodness.”

  Owen hugged her to him and kissed her on the cheek.

  “What’s wrong? What’s upset you so?”

  “Did you see him? Him and that dog?”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “The beggar, of course, and Mr. Jones, his dog. They were in front of the house.”

  “But darling, they’re harmless, aren’t they? The poor man needs work like so many of our citizens here. That’s all.”

  Emalyn unwrapped herself from Owen and stepped back.

  “No, that’s not true. For one thing, he isn’t a citizen here. He told me he was a treasure hunter. We’ve never had beggars at Dunaghy Manor. Never. Why would he come here of all places? Why not go into town?”

  Owen put an arm around her shoulders.

  “It will be all right, Emmy. He’s just a beggar. I’ll confess to you now that this is partly my fault. I gave him some scraps the other night. I felt sorry for him and that huge old dog of his. I just couldn’t hold back food from him when we had so much.”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  “But I’ll send him away if I see him again. Worry yourself not, darling. I promise I will take care of it.”

  “Promise?”

  “I won’t have you upset by anyone. So, when I see him, I will tell him to leave this area. He won’t be bothering you again, my love.”

  “Oh, Owen, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She looked up to see her dashing husband smiling down at her.

  “You are my swan,” he said. “My mate for life. Without you, I’d not want to draw another breath.”

  Emalyn took his hand in hers and kissed it. “Don’t talk of death, darling. Not that. No…I can’t think of how I would exist without you. I wouldn’t want to live, Owen….no, please don’t talk about it.”

  “Shh,” he said and held her close. He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead, both cheeks, then her lips. The kiss was soft and loving at first but grew longer and more passionate.

  “I love you, Emmy,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. The two of us are one for eternity. Now, where is that beautiful smile I love?”

  She smiled at him.

  They walked in silence until they reached the town.

  The cobblestone roads of High Street were Emalyn’s favorite. Mostly worn smooth by now, they signaled something akin to home for her. Main Street, typical in any Irish towns close to a major waterway, was paved now, but in years past, it was a dirt road that served as the thoroughfare for cattle and sheep.

  And every once in a while when the River Shannon overflowed, the water gushed down Main Street and into the River Erne…while business could be conducted as usual on High Street.

  High Street, safe from herds of cattle and rushes of water, was the town center. Two and three-story buildings lined the cobblestone path. Brightly painted in bold blues, reds, corals, and pinks, they gave Dungarran the familiar Irish look she’d missed so much when they lived in London, a dark and grey place, the opposite of her family’s beloved Ireland.

  When they reached the steps of the old library where the meeting was to take place, Owen turned away from her and looked up.

  “Storm’s coming,” he said.

  And at that moment, the wind whipped around them, the sky darkened, and the rain poured in icy sheets.

  The eleven board members rose when the couple walked in.

  “Ah,” Councilor Murphy said, “here they are, our esteemed Vice President and his lovely wife. Please, sit down and join us.”

  Owen held Emalyn’s chair for her and patted her on the shoulder.

  When the Bishop had finished with his opening prayer, Emalyn saw him look at her briefly. He seemed to want to say something, but then, he lowered his eyes and made a swift exit.

  She shifted in her seat and smoothed her skirt.

  The President of the Board, Dr. Maquire, explained the business terms of the agreement to use the old candy shop.

  “We have electrical workers, water service experts, and craftsmen ready to begin the renovations and installations,” he said. “I’d say you could plan to set up the chocolate shop within sixty days, if that meets with your approval. The city will sponsor you so that we will absorb all installation and renovations charges since Dungarran owns the building proper. From that point, the cost of electricity and water or any additions or changes you wish to make will be your responsibility.”

  “Does that sound fair, Lady Emalyn,” Dr. Maquire said.

  “It does, Mr. President,” she said, “but we haven’t discussed the specific amounts of rental and estimates of the monthly charges for electric and water service. It will be a new business. The cost of operating…”

  “Rental costs are low and services are minimal, as I’ve already discussed at length with our Vice President,” Dr. Maquire said and nodded at Owen.

  Emalyn felt as if she’d been dismissed.

  “Gentlemen,” Owen said and scooted his chair back. “Please give me a moment to confer with my wife.”

  When they were out in the hall and sure no one else was around, Emalyn said,

  “I should like to have known the costs involved. I have never run a business. What if I don’t succeed?”

  “Well, now,” her husband said, his back straight, arms folded across his chest, “I have every faith that your business will be successful. Dr. Maguire is right. The services and rent are minimal, and you will show a profit. People adore your chocolates.”

  “But what if the business fails, Owen? Will we be ruined?”

  He put his large hand on her cheek.

  “No, my love,” he said. “We will not be ruined. Our finances are well beyond what this business venture could possibly use. We each have healthy inheritances, our manor is paid for, and we owe very little. I had no idea you were so concerned.”

  “Oh, Owen,” she said, “how do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Oh, you…you have the power to make me feel safe and secure, always, no matter what happens.”

  He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “Whatever I do for you, I do out of love. You are my swan, after all.”

  “Tell me one more time,” she said. “Just one more.”

  Owen hugged her tightly to him and whispered, “I am the sun. You are the moon. I die gladly each night just so you can bre
athe.”

  Emalyn sighed and snuggled as close to him as she could get. His strong arms and broad chest were like a warm and comforting feather bed into which she could sink and relax.

  “I would stay like this forever, love,” Owen said, “but we have a meeting to finish, a deal to make.”

  She stepped away.

  “Come on then, will you?” she said. “Let’s not keep the board members waiting.”

  Owen shook his head and chuckled.

  An hour or so later, with terms further explained and documents signed, Emalyn walked out of the library holding Owen’s hand.

  She halted abruptly.

  “I forgot something. I meant to ask Councilor Murphy about Percy.”

  “Percy?”

  “As I left this morning, Percy opened the door for me.”

  “He did? What on earth came over him?”

  “He told me to tell Councilor Murphy hello for him.”

  Owen put his hand under his chin and ran an index finger across his lip.

  “Hmm,” he said. “To my knowledge, the only contact the two of them have had has been quite negative. It was the Councilor who threatened him with expulsion if he was caught fighting with the older gangs again.”

  Emalyn sighed.

  “That boy is such a mystery,” she said. “Why does he hang around with such rough people? There are plenty of nice young boys and girls his age at school.”

  “Yes, but Percy gets the sharp end of the stick most of the time because of his limp.”

  “Wait one moment,” she said and ran to talk to the Councilor.

  “Councilor Murphy,” she called. “A moment of your time, please.”

  He turned and smiled at her.

  “Emalyn, what is it that I can do for our newest business owner?”

  “I wanted to tell you about Percy.”

  The councilor coughed several times as if he’d chocked on something.

  “Are you all right?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Yes, fine,” he said, his face considerably reddened. “Must have a nasty cold coming on. You wanted to ask me about Fiona’s boy?”

  “Yes, this morning, he told me to tell you hello. I thought it was a bit odd, that’s all. He’s never mentioned you before.”

  “Hmm,” the Councilor said, “perhaps our little confrontation on Friday made an impression. I cautioned him severely about all this fighting. He was quite angry with me, so perhaps he was being a bit sarcastic this morning.”

  Emalyn nodded. “Perhaps.”

  Just then, she heard Owen call to her.

  “I’ll go now. Maybe we can discuss this a bit more at a later date,” Emalyn said.

  “Oh, certainly. Right now, though, you should be concentrating on that new shop.”

  Emalyn smiled and hurried away to meet Owen.

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Yes,” Emalyn said as they walked outside. “Apparently there was some confrontation on Friday. He’d reprimanded Percy for fighting.”

  Owen frowned.

  A group of men stood at the bottom of the stairs. They looked like a ragtag bunch with tattered clothing, greasy hair, scruffy beards, and worn out boots.

  “Speaking of ruffians,” Emalyn whispered.

  She recognized all of the men as farmers who lived down the road from Dunaghy Manor.

  “Gentlemen,” she said as she and Owen walked past them. “Good day.”

  The tallest among them stood in front. He nodded at her. “I’m sure it’s always a good day for the Lady,” he scoffed.

  The others chuckled.

  “Excuse us,” Owen said as he took Emalyn by the elbow.

  “Ain’t no excuse for the likes of you,” their speaker yelled.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” the others shouted.

  “What do they mean?” Emalyn whispered, her heart racing.

  Owen stopped and motioned for her to sit on one of the benches.

  He turned to face the group.

  “Please, gentlemen,” he said. “My wife has nothing to do with your complaint against the Board.”

  “Oh, don’t she, now?” the speaker of the bunch said and took a few steps toward Owen. “She’s opening a business, ain’t she? Gonna be using the electric and water services? Course, with somebody like her, it don’t make no difference. Miz Moneybags. What bother is it to her to pay huge sums for somethin’ she didn’t want in the first place?”

  In spite of her rising fear, Emalyn could not stay seated.

  “What are you talking about?” she said calmly and walked up beside Owen. “What does my business have to do with you? You’re farmers with your own businesses.”

  “We’re farmers, all right, but our businesses belong to this fine country of Ireland, and probably England, too if anyone knew the truth? We pay for the right to work and use their electrics and water, and we didn’t want it in the first place. We were doin’ fine ‘til this electric and water board came down on us so heavy. Yeah, we got electric. We got water from the city, but we can’t afford neither of ‘em. So now we got nothin’. Every penny we make goes to pay for the water and electric we didn’t even want or need. The greedy sons of…”

  Owen interrupted.

  “But all of you signed the petition years ago for electric and water, all of you.”

  “And what if we hadn’t? What then? We had no choice,” one of the shorter ones yelled, shaking his fist in the air. “It was either sign or close down. We was lied to and cheated out of our money by these greedy…”

  “We’ll destroy any new businesses here for supporting the devil who runs this board,” the leader said and spat on the ground at Emalyn’s feet.

  Emalyn stepped back.

  Owen moved in front of her.

  “I’d ask you to leave now,” Owen said, his voice stern. “My wife is not to be bothered.”

  The gang of men guffawed.

  “Oh, ain’t she pitiful, now. If she opens that business, you can bet she’ll be bothered. Anybody who supports those money-grabbin’ devils will be run off.”

  Owen moved closer to the men and put his index finger close to the leader’s face.

  “I’ll not have you speaking to her in such a way.”

  “And what are ya gonna do about it, now?”

  Owen balled his fists.

  “Shall we settle this in the alley, then?”

  Emalyn gasped. Though she knew Owen was a powerful fighter, he was grossly outnumbered.

  From the top of the stairs a voice boomed across them.

  “Johnny Macahern!”

  The group of men looked up to see Councilor Murphy descending the steps, his face red with anger.

  “What in heaven’s name do you men think you’re doing?”

  “It ain’t fair, Councilor,” Johnny said. “It ain’t fair that we’re forced to use the electric and water and pay you for being farmers. It ain’t right.”

  “And you think the Lady Emalyn can help with that?”

  “We don’t need no new businesses supportin’ you bunch of thieves on the Board. The more support you’ve got, the more the poor people in this county suffer.”

  The Councilor leaned close to the leader, Johnny.

  “Get your gang of ruffians out of here. Loitering is a crime, and I’ll see that you’re fined if I so much as hear a whisper about you pulling this kind of stunt again. Leave that woman alone. Now, get out of here, all of you!”

  The disgruntled group moved away muttering and spitting. Then, the leader turned around and pointed a finger at them.

  “You’ll pay for this, ya know? Just like before.”

  Emalyn stepped closer to Owen whose hands were still balled into fists, jaw firmly set, mouth in a tight line.

  “What does he mean?”

  She tugged at his arm, but he didn’t budge.

  “Please, love, let it go. They did no harm,” she said.

  She tugged again, and he seemed to snap out of his rage
. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “In my eyes,” he said, “they did harm when they spoke to you so rudely. I won’t have it, Emmy.”

  “Come,” she said. “Let’s go home. We’ll have a bit of lunch before you have to go back to the factory. Heroes need their strength, after all.”

  “I’m no hero, Emmy.”

  “Ah, but there you’re wrong. You are always my hero,” she said and hugged tightly to his arm as they walked.

  When they’d gone only a few paces, Emalyn asked again.

  “But what did they mean? Just like before? And why will the poor suffer?”

  Owen turned to face her.

  “I’m afraid Johnny is right,” he said. “When the Board enacted this Electric and Water Act, the majority of the people thought it was grand. But the farmers didn’t want it.”

  “They didn’t want city water and electricity?”

  “No, they didn’t. They’d made a decent living without it for years.”

  Emalyn nodded.

  “I see,” she said. “But they were forced to have the water and electric lines and to pay for them?”

  Owen nodded.

  “So, all of this is about money,” Emalyn said. “The farmers couldn’t afford it but were forced to have it. The expenses took away their profits. The new businesses would naturally need it and wouldn’t mind paying for it.”

  “Yes.”

  Owen held on to Emalyn with one hand and massaged his temple with the other.

  “What’s wrong, love?”

  “We’ll talk about this at home, Emmy. Let’s just get home.”

  They picked up their pace and hurried along the road toward Dunaghy Manor.

  “Oh,” Emalyn said. “I meant to drop by and speak to Pearl.”

  “Pearl Murphy?”

  “Yes, she did not seem in favor of my opening a business, and I wanted to find out why. I’ll speak with her tomorrow morning.”

  They walked in silence until they reached the front gate.

  Then, Emalyn heard the barking dog again.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “It’s that dog, Mr. Jones, and I’m sure the beggar is there, too.”

  “Good, I might have work for him.”

  “What?”

  Emalyn felt as if her knees would buckle at any moment. She looked at Owen as if she’d never seen him before, some stranger who’d just suggested something horrible.