Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [321]
“Will we manage?” she asked a little anxiously. But though he assured her that they would, she could see, by the spring of 1533, that William was worried.
It was sometime around midsummer that she detected an alteration in her husband’s mood. He appeared to walk more lightly. The worry lines on his face were not so deep. Had he word of a Church estate, she asked? No, he told her, but his business affairs were looking better. Yet it seemed to Margaret that there was a new happiness, almost an excitement in his manner. He had been a distinguished, grey-haired man for many a year now, but in some strange way, as she remarked, “You look younger.” Nearly three weeks after midsummer, they received a long letter from Richard describing the entertainments at the house of a gentleman in the country, where he had evidently been staying, promising to come to see them in Dublin soon, and asking for a substantial sum of money. It frightened her, but William seemed to view it with perfect equanimity—so much so that she honestly wondered if his mind might be elsewhere. And then a week after the letter, MacGowan came to call.
Margaret liked MacGowan. His position in the merchant society of Dublin was special. Most of the Dublin merchants bought and sold their goods within the Dublin markets; yet they also needed to buy commodities like timber, grain, and cattle from the huge hinterland beyond the Pale. There were a number of merchants, therefore, who traded freely across these borderlands, acting as go-betweens for the English and Irish communities. They were known as grey merchants, and MacGowan was one of the most successful. His specialty was in purchasing timber from the O’Byrnes and O’Tooles in the Wicklow Mountains, but he carried out all kinds of business, and frequently carried out commissions for Doyle. As a result of his travels, MacGowan not only made an excellent living but he was also a mine of information about what was going on in the country. William, who happened to be at home on the day he called, was also delighted to see him.
He arrived in the middle of the day. He had just spent the night, he said, at the house of Sean O’Byrne of Rathconan, farther to the south. Margaret had heard of Sean O’Byrne as a man for the ladies, but did not know him. She tried to persuade MacGowan to stay with them, too, but after taking some light refreshment he said that he must be on his way to Dublin, and William had gone outside with him to see him off. It was completely by chance that she should have gone up into the big bedchamber and happened to hear the two men talking below the casement.
“Your business with Doyle goes well?” she heard William enquire.
“It does. And yours—your private business, I mean, with his wife?” This was said in a low tone. “She thinks you very handsome, you know. She told me herself,” the traveller added with a chuckle.
William’s private business with Joan Doyle? What could that possibly be?
“You know everybody’s secrets,” Walsh murmured. “That makes you a dangerous man.”
“If I know secrets,” MacGowan answered, “I assure you it’s because I am very discreet. But you did not answer my question about the lady.”
“All is well, I think.”
“Does Doyle know?”
“He doesn’t.”
“And your wife?”
“No. God forbid.”
“Well your secret is safe with me. And have you brought matters to a conclusion?”
“On Corpus Christi day it shall be consummated. She has promised me.”
“Farewell.”
She heard the sound of MacGowan moving off.
She stood there, transfixed. Her husband and the Doyle woman. They might both be quite long in years, but she knew her husband was physically capable of consummating an affair. Entirely so. But that he would ever do such a thing to her: that was what stunned her. For a moment or two she could hardly believe what she had heard. They seemed like voices from another world.
Then she remembered: the Doyle woman thought him handsome. So he was.