Read Online Leon Uris by Redemption - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Redemption
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Sagas, History, Europe, Ireland, Literary Collections, New Zealand, New Zealand fiction, Australian & Oceanian
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continuation of the aristocracy for at least another generation. Charles would be long gone and really didn’t give a damn what happened after Atty took over. She could reinvoke the ugly edicts necessary for large profit or simply get rid of the estate, as she wished.
In 1884, when Atty was ten, she was whisked off to schools in Switzerland, then London, considerable continental travel, and a “rounding out” of a proper lady, often in the company of her mother. They occasioned themselves at Lough Clara only during the summers. At first Atty did not protest, but every time she returned she fell in love with Jack Murphy all over again. More and more Jack recognized the rage of sunspots flaring off her angry star, but he didn’t recognize that some of her passion was aimed at him. Because Atty was very young and there was a substantial age difference between her and Jack, the relationship resembled older brother to little sister. They made many extended horse excursions into the lunarscape of Connemara and along the sea.
But there was more to it than Atty and Jack just enjoying themselves. What soon seemed deeper and more important than winning Jack’s love was what she saw—the destitution of the peasants. Aye, her fury over their bottomless agony became stronger than any personal feeling toward another human being.
Atty simply leapt over the awkward years when one’steeth usually required straightening or the skin was sprinkled with spots. She left Lough Clara as a girl of ten and returned as a completed young lady of thirteen, erect, a full glorious body, and a face of chilled beauty. She made no attempt at the games of coquetry, for there was no nonsense in her, no time for the frivolous things that amused her mother and her mother’s circle. The male hunt occupied them…the gossip…the next ball. The girl was an off-horse, too serious and too determined. Her mother wondered, to what end?
Atty chopped off the heads of the parade of suitors with a belittling quick glare. Moreover, she was tall as most men and a specimen to intimidate them. She became comfortable with her ability to keep the eager lads in step and exercised that power without pity. There were no backside slappers and sneaky pinchers pursuing that one.
Atty’s escapes from Mother’s inane pursuits were her great escapades to Jack Murphy’s cottage. Jack’s father, as estate foreman, had been able to see to a fine education for all his children. Jack had been schooled by the Christian Brothers in Galway and he responded with a keen love and grasp of the classics. He would read to Atty or play the guitar with winged fingers and sing out phrases of poetry he had set to his own music. Jack was a dandy-looking lad, for sure, and never at a loss for female company. He loved them all a little but never too strongly, never so he might fall into the Irish mating trap. Not a lass could put the bell around his neck.
This was fine with Atty. It would give her time to blossom to that point where she would be noticed by him as something other than his little friend. Then she could end her long silence and make her feelings known. In Atty’s sixteenth summer she studied herself in the mirror and declared herself ready. She seldom asked but often commanded. With Jack Murphy she knew she had to be clever. He was a full-grown man of twenty-three edging toward a life decision.
Over the years the two had developed a physical relationship, that of buddies, a pair of mates up for a little horseplay and “innocent” wrestling. Atty would always break it off and leave before her sighs and outright panting of passion gave her away. Now sixteen, she was satisfied she could elicit the same feelings from him. Setting the scene carefully, after a gallop, she jumped him in the hayloft of the barn.
“I’m still your master!” he roared.
Her legs parted and her pelvis rolled about searching for what had made her vastly curious to feel. She found it and rocked back
In 1884, when Atty was ten, she was whisked off to schools in Switzerland, then London, considerable continental travel, and a “rounding out” of a proper lady, often in the company of her mother. They occasioned themselves at Lough Clara only during the summers. At first Atty did not protest, but every time she returned she fell in love with Jack Murphy all over again. More and more Jack recognized the rage of sunspots flaring off her angry star, but he didn’t recognize that some of her passion was aimed at him. Because Atty was very young and there was a substantial age difference between her and Jack, the relationship resembled older brother to little sister. They made many extended horse excursions into the lunarscape of Connemara and along the sea.
But there was more to it than Atty and Jack just enjoying themselves. What soon seemed deeper and more important than winning Jack’s love was what she saw—the destitution of the peasants. Aye, her fury over their bottomless agony became stronger than any personal feeling toward another human being.
Atty simply leapt over the awkward years when one’steeth usually required straightening or the skin was sprinkled with spots. She left Lough Clara as a girl of ten and returned as a completed young lady of thirteen, erect, a full glorious body, and a face of chilled beauty. She made no attempt at the games of coquetry, for there was no nonsense in her, no time for the frivolous things that amused her mother and her mother’s circle. The male hunt occupied them…the gossip…the next ball. The girl was an off-horse, too serious and too determined. Her mother wondered, to what end?
Atty chopped off the heads of the parade of suitors with a belittling quick glare. Moreover, she was tall as most men and a specimen to intimidate them. She became comfortable with her ability to keep the eager lads in step and exercised that power without pity. There were no backside slappers and sneaky pinchers pursuing that one.
Atty’s escapes from Mother’s inane pursuits were her great escapades to Jack Murphy’s cottage. Jack’s father, as estate foreman, had been able to see to a fine education for all his children. Jack had been schooled by the Christian Brothers in Galway and he responded with a keen love and grasp of the classics. He would read to Atty or play the guitar with winged fingers and sing out phrases of poetry he had set to his own music. Jack was a dandy-looking lad, for sure, and never at a loss for female company. He loved them all a little but never too strongly, never so he might fall into the Irish mating trap. Not a lass could put the bell around his neck.
This was fine with Atty. It would give her time to blossom to that point where she would be noticed by him as something other than his little friend. Then she could end her long silence and make her feelings known. In Atty’s sixteenth summer she studied herself in the mirror and declared herself ready. She seldom asked but often commanded. With Jack Murphy she knew she had to be clever. He was a full-grown man of twenty-three edging toward a life decision.
Over the years the two had developed a physical relationship, that of buddies, a pair of mates up for a little horseplay and “innocent” wrestling. Atty would always break it off and leave before her sighs and outright panting of passion gave her away. Now sixteen, she was satisfied she could elicit the same feelings from him. Setting the scene carefully, after a gallop, she jumped him in the hayloft of the barn.
“I’m still your master!” he roared.
Her legs parted and her pelvis rolled about searching for what had made her vastly curious to feel. She found it and rocked back
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