Dear Ollie

Chapter I

Olivia knocked on her mother's bedroom door before opening it. A gentle orange light lit the room from the oil lamp set on the bedside table, bathing her mother in a soft glow. Olivia felt small tears begin to build in her eyes but she blinked them away hastily before smiling at her. Meg managed a small smile at her daughter standing in the doorway.

"Hello bab." Meg's voice crackled as she attempted to speak. Olivia rushed to her side and helped her take a sip of water from the cup she brought up with her.

"You OK, Mammy? You comfy?" Olivia fretted around her, fluffing her pillows and tucking her in before her mother held her hand in hers.

 "I'm good. Now stop." Olivia nodded and sat beside her on the bed, holding her hand.

She rubbed her hand over the palm of Meg's hand and frowned. "Your hands are a bit rough. I'll get some cream for ya." She reached over to the bedside table and opened one of the drawers. Rooting around for a bit but not finding any cream, she went to close the drawer when her eyes caught a glimpse of something shiny. She reached in and pulled it out from the bottom of the drawer, revealing a bundle of letters tied together with a piece of twine. What caught her eye was a broken wax seal on the top one. Piecing it together, she could make out a familiar coat of arms printed into the wax.

She glanced at her mother, who was already watching her silently. "I know this coat of arms."

Meg nodded, "You do."

Olivia waited for her to continue but she just watched her, silent again. "Where is it from?"

"It's the Fitzgerald coat of arms." Olivia looked back at the wax seal, scrunching her eyebrows.

"Why do you have a letter with their coat of arms on it?" Meg stayed silent. Olivia tried again, "Where did you get them?" More silence as Meg closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Mammy?"

Olivia could see that her mother was getting emotional and placed the letters on the bed to hold her hand. Meg opened her eyes and looked at her daughter, "Could you read them to me?"

Olivia nodded and picked the letters up again, removing the twine that bound them together. She picked up the first one and ran her fingers over the seal before opening the letter. The elegant hand of a man greeted her when she opened the letter, dating the letter to the 17th of January, 1866. She began to read.

'My dearest Meg,

                  I hope my letter finds you well for I am deeply sorry to hear of your father's passing. He was a good man and looked after my horses well. The first time I was introduced to your father, reminds me of the first time I ever saw you ...

-  -  -  -  -  -  -

An insistent knock on the door stole Meg's attention away from the bread she was making. She glanced at her mother, who shooed her away to the door and answered it.

"Answer it. It might be Mrs. Doyle with the cloths for me."

Meg opened the door to see her friend, Betty Doyle standing on the other side with an excited grin gracing her face.

"Oh Meg, he's arrived! Come look, come look!" Betty grabbed her wrist in a steel grip and pulled her out of the house and onto the main street. Meg glanced around to see Betty wasn't the only one excited to catch a glimpse of the new Lord arriving in their village. Even Widow Moore was out. Meg waved and smiled at her, receiving a smile back.

Betty yanked on Meg's arm in excitement, "Oh look! I think I can see his carriage! Look Meg, look!"

Meg turned to look, just in time to see a sleek black carriage, well known to the village as Lord Edmund Fitzgerald's, pulled by two beautiful grey horses emerge from under the shade of the trees and onto the main street of Shillelagh. Meg spotted her father sitting in the driver's seat of the carriage as it approached the village crowd. She frowned as she wondered why her father was driving the carriage but she smiled and waved at him as he passed. Peter grinned back at her, giving her a wink before facing forward again. Betty and Meg tried to catch a glimpse of the Lord's son in the carriage but the curtains were pulled, much to the villager's disappointment.