A Timeless American Historical Romance Legacy
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Chapter One
The Viscountess
Winter 1932
Moira and Liam sat in the living room salon of their family home at The Dakota blankly staring at the trunks and steamer chests full of their mother’s possessions.
“There she is. All boxed up with a bow on it, ready to go to storage.” Liam sighed and poured a brandy for both of them.
“This is depressing. There’s a strange eeriness here without her. She brought life to this old mausoleum.” Moira shook her head and chuckled.
“Yes. This home was her pride and joy all right. Now she’ll have to settle for watching over all of us for generations from her perch.”
They both toasted the painting of their mother, dressed in a giant hat and blue-gray suit, which hung over the fireplace.
“She loved that painting. No tiara, no Viscountess, just her—Caroline.” Moira choked on a tear.
Liam grasped Moira’s hand and they smiled at each.
Just then, Grayson, the butler, stepped into the room and interrupted them. “Excuse me, Viscount, Lady Clare.” He somberly approached and presented a silver serving tray bearing an envelope.
“What’s this?” Liam sat up quickly.
“The Viscountess instructed me to give you this upon her passing, sir,” Grayson stated.
Moira shrugged at Liam, who took the envelope and opened it.
Me Darling Dears.
I wanted to say one last goodbye to you. You both were the dearest loves of my life and the reason I was put on this earth. All the baubles, tiaras, and dresses worn to all those silly lunches, parties, and balls were the title. You both were my reason for living. Liam, you married a beautiful lass and I know you’ll be happy. I hope I could give you some ideas of freedom beyond the shackles of your ancestral obligations. I’m sorry I couldn’t free you, but I know you’re a good man and you’ll do the title of Viscount of Donegal proud. It will be the first time that regal moniker will be worn by a kind and gentle, true soul.
Even though you saddled my grandson with your father’s name, hopefully it will break the wicked devil curse of your father. I can say that now; I’ve met me maker. Don’t forget your Irish name means “protector.” Watch over him and let him walk in your beautiful shadow. He could have no finer teacher.
Moira, to you I must beg your everlasting grace. I will never forgive myself for allowing your father to marry you off like a possession and pawn in one of his illicit poker games. I know you declined my offer to support a divorce, after we lifted from his clutches, but I pray you find happiness and contentment. I hope your Fiona brings a light to your life that you so richly deserve.
Liam abruptly stopped and glanced at Moira. “What’s she talking about, Mo?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. What else does it say?” Moira gestured for him to continue.
I don’t want you darlins to wear grim faces or be sad. I danced, I drank, I laughed, and I even loved, more than once, by the grace of God. I want you to know that I adored your father, at first, and that both of you were born from my love. My biggest regrets were not finding my voice earlier…and Maggie. As far as me worldly possessions, I leave them in your thoughtful care. Donate them, keep them, whatever you feel with your heart. I hope you’ll find your way to keep The Dakota in the family. It’s our American home. And please treat the staff well; they were loyal and wonderful helpers. But mostly, be happy and well. I don’t expect to see ya in the great heavenly peace for a long time. Until then, may the road rise up to meet you and may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Forever Your Mother, Caroline.
Moira wiped a solitary tear rolling down her face. “She always knew how to make an exit; I’ll give her that.”
Liam nodded, placing the paper on the table in front of him.
Still standing at attention in front of them, Grayson cleared his throat and handed Liam a worn leather-bound book, then bowed and left the room.
“What is this?” Perplexed, he called after Grayson perplexed and looked at Moira.
“Open it,” Moira said, leaning toward him to get a closer look.
Liam untied the gold tethered ribbon and carefully leafed through the book. “It appears to be a journal, but it’s addressed to Maggie, telling her what happened in her life.” Liam passed it to his sister.
“Mother never really talked about why she left. Considering they were such good friends, I always found that strange,” Moira added.
“Maggie’s name was one of Mother’s last words on this earth. She was obviously important. I remember her well. She kissed us goodnight and left me the pillow that said Anam Cara.” Liam’s thoughts drifted to childhood.
“She was so kind and loving. She’d take us for walks in a little pram in the park and tell us stories about the beautiful rolling green and amber hills of Ireland. Just like Mother did after Maggie left. The memory of me homeland is stamped in me soul, Maggie used to say.” Moira mimicked in her best Irish brogue. “And they were both right. It’s a beautiful country.”
“And after Maggie was gone, Mother put us to sleep and took us to the park. Even when she was going out for the night, she’d read to us about the land of.” Liam smiled.
Moira gently took the book from her brother and put it down on the coffee table.
“We shouldn’t read it. It was her life; it’s not our story to tell.”
Curiously glaring at the book, Liam sighed.
“I guess you’re right. I think Mother tried to shield us. I knew she loved us, but I really didn’t know much about her life.”
Moira nodded in agreement.
“On my wedding day, she told me not to make the same mistakes she did. She urged me to be my own person and never allow my husband to rule my life. Maybe that’s why Rony and I became friends. I saw the regret in her eyes and knew I never wanted to feel that way.”
“I guess she made the most of her life, in the end,” Liam said.
“She seemed to flutter from lunches and committee meetings to dinners and balls, keeping up on the gossip.” Moira chuckled.
“She wore that tiara so much I thought she’d sleep in it. And she let no one call her the dowager viscountess. She was adamant about that when I married Ruth,” Liam laughed.
Liam gently took Moira’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. “Are you happy, Mo?”
“Are you kidding? I’m like a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s court. In Ireland, I’m the unique, refreshing American with an Irish royal pedigree. I had tea with Queen Mary the other day. It’s a good life. But I’d like to see you more. Will you finally come to Ireland this summer?” Moira asked, finishing her drink.
Moira paused. “Do you think she ever tried to see Maggie again?”
“That’s a question for the ages,” Liam said and refilled their glasses.
“A final toast to The Viscountess of Donegal.”
Moira rose to meet him and clinked his glass. “And to our mother, Caroline. May she find peace and rest.”
SUZANNE RUDD HAMILTON 