Chapter 13: First Foray
Rossnalough Manor, west of Enniscorthy, County Wexford, Wednesday, May 16, 1798
Declan crouched on a limb of an oak tree outside the west wall of Rossnalough estate, his pistol and dagger ready in their holster and sheath on his belt. To his advantage, the night was moonless, and visibility was provided only by the stars and a few lanterns about the grounds. Tonight he was going over the walls into the Yeomen's garrison. Multiple nights of observation had taught him the routes and timing of the guards' rounds, and he had identified points of cover between the wall and the manse.
After the atrocity committed by Blaylock and his soldiers in the square yesterday, he was doubly resolved to find his former Captain and wreak his vengeance.
He had arrived after the usual time Michael appeared at the front gate, so he knew not whether she was inside or not.
When the moment came, Declan slid from the tree to the ground and ran up to the stone wall, leaping to get his hands on the top and his foot halfway up. Bending his arms, he drew his head above the cap stone. Aye, the coast was yet clear. Over he went to drop silently to the ground in the shadow of the stable wall. He ran to a cluster of four barrels adjacent to the courtyard, then over the gardens to the broad trunk of an ash tree, then to an oak closer to the house.
He paused, hugging the ground as the two guards approached. When they again turned and paced away, he slunk to the dark terrace along the west wing of the house, here crouching behind one after another in a series of shrubs planted in stately, carved stone pots. He tried in succession the windows of the unlit rooms.
From his surveillance, he was familiar with the evening routine of lights appearing in the three windows of the dining room in the opposite wing --- then, usually an hour and a half later, appearing in the windows of this wing. The officers should presently be dining, and Declan would identify a place to lay in wait for his quarry.
The fifth window along the terrace proved to be unlatched; he pushed it open and crawled over the sill.
Immediately Declan found his bearings in a large chamber illuminated by a low fire in the grate. He made out opulent décor and furniture, then froze at the silhouette of an officer's fur crested helmet --- a moment later he realized the macabre object was perched on a stand upon the desk.
The first thing to do was determine if this was Blaylock's office. He moved quickly to the desk.
A small shape darted out from under it and Declan started back with his heart in his throat --- at first he thought it was a dog, then he realized what it was. "Michael!" he whispered, relief flooding him.
She whirled round; he saw her tense features relax for a moment, then grow noticeably guarded as she stared at him. She was not wearing the spectacles, and although 'twas too dark to see the color of her eyes, they glinted in the light from the fireplace. Their exchange proceeded in whispers.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked.
"Looking for intelligence for Captain Fleetwood. What are
you
doing here?"
He hesitated. "The same."
Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him.
"Know ye whose office ---" he began.
The sound of footsteps outside in the hall made them jump.
There was no time to escape! Declan's eyes jumped round the room for a place of concealment. Against the wall across from the desk was an elaborately carved standing cabinet with two tall doors. He leapt towards it, finding it to be a wardrobe with a few garments hanging inside.
"In here!" he hissed. They scrambled inside and pulled the doors shut behind them. Side by side they stood in the dark, narrow space, facing the doors, shifting awkwardly as their arms jostled against each other.
The click of the hall door opening and closing terminated their fidgeting and fixed them in place. Declan then perceived that the cabinet doors a few inches before their faces were not solid, but that the carving formed an ornate lattice with small openings, no doubt intended to air out the garments stored therein.
Through the holes in the doors was now visible the pair entering the room: an unfamiliar Yeoman officer and a pretty, dark-haired lass in the blue gown and white apron of a maid --- both wearing furtive, mischievous expressions.
"We must make haste --- I have a meeting with the Colonel in twenty minutes," the man said in a low voice, drawing the maid towards the desk...walking backwards with his arms about her waist. He bent his head swiftly towards hers, and they were at once embroiled in a passionate embrace, their mouths soon open and feeding hungrily upon each other's...tongues twining, hands roving over each other's bodies.
After his initial surprise, Declan could not help an inward rueful laugh at the absurd situation. Both bent on revenge, Aoife and he instead found themselves hiding in a wardrobe and witnessing the amorous entertainments of an enemy officer --- here directly before them, a mere seven feet away. 'Twas certainly an unexpected, diverting joke in the face of their bitter purpose.
As the officer hastily unbuttoned his breeches, Declan comprehended that the "joke" had only just begun.
With an excited giggle, the maid assisted the man with the buttons, their eager hands bumping till he ceded the territory to her. An admiring gasp escaped the girl's lips as his stiffstander sprang free...a fine, stalwart machine...her hand was instantly upon it, tugging and stroking.
"Oh, God, yes..." he sighed, leaning back against the desk. He groped at her skirts, dragging them up.
Her back was towards the wardrobe, and her partially bunched gown in the rear concealed most of his actions, but her bare thigh and his forearm were visible. "Oh, Charlotte, you're as slippery as a buttered peach!" he murmured. For several more moments did the pair fondle each other's organs --- his arm jogging with small back and forth motions, her fist uncapping and capping his ruddy crown.
The full irony of the circumstances now struck Declan broadside. He was enclosed in this tight, dark space with the lass who had beguiled his heart, whilst he was pretending to take her for a lad, and she was unaware of his knowledge of her identity! And together they were watching this bawdy play unfold before them! By God, he could not help himself! Powerless was he to fight the involuntary response of his body to the provocative situation...he stood immobile as the blood mercilessly expanded his cock...expanded in concert with his craving for the wee maiden next to him.
What were Aoife's thoughts as she observed the couple? Was she at all likewise affected? Where their arms were pressed together, he felt her warmth, but otherwise she moved not. Stealing a yearning glance at her in the darkness, he glimpsed only two shining spots where the faint light reflected off her eyes. She was staring straight ahead at the scene, but he otherwise could read nothing of her reaction.
