(eBook) | Oct 2015 (PB) Cranbrook Press
Paperback & eBook;
350 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
In 1875 England, a young man, Jack Brennan, from a large and impoverished Catholic family refuses to be pushed into the priesthood and runs away to fulfil his dream of becoming a teacher. Jack falls in love with Eliza Hewlett, but his dreams and plans are thwarted when his landlord's daughter, Mary Ellen MacBride, falsely accuses him of fathering the child she is expecting. Rather than be forced to marry his accuser, Jack decides to run away to America with Eliza. Just as they are about to sail, Jack is arrested and dragged from the ship, leaving Eliza alone en route to New York with just a few shillings in her pocket.
AMAZON
Praise
"The story is different, original and touching. It's interesting to read how the lives of Jack and Eliza unfold in different countries. The plot is powerful, the characters are well sketched, memorable, and their personalities will remain in the minds of readers even after they finish the story. It's a story of love loss and tragedy; a heartbreaking and moving tale where readers will wish to see Jack and Eliza reunited and happy together. The narration is descriptive; it also speaks about the society that existed during that age and pulls readers into the story. It's well written and the story is not predictable, making it a engaging read.” -Readers’ Favorite (5 Star Medal)Read an Excerpt
Jack lay on the bed trying
to imagine what lay in store for him in his new life, nervous about
the prospect of his first day as a proper teacher. His mind raced as
he mentally planned his lessons. A gong sounded and he hurried
downstairs and stood in the hall looking about him, wondering where
to go. He was about to try the door next to the parlour, when he
realised someone was watching him. A young woman was standing in the
shadows, partly hidden by the coat stand, her voluminous skirts
giving her presence away. Jack stepped forward, then hesitated. Was
it polite to offer to shake a young lady’s hand? Not that she was
that young. At least ten years older than him, he guessed. ‘You
must be Miss MacBride?’
‘You can call me Mary
Ellen.’
He was surprised that she
was prepared to dispense with the formalities so early in their
acquaintance, but said, as was clearly expected, ‘My name’s Jack,
Miss, Jack Brennan.’
She stepped forward into
the light of the gas lamp. Her dark hair was lustrous but with a
small streak of premature grey at the temples. Her features were
strong and pale as if sculpted from marble. He might have thought her
beautiful, but for the dullness of her eyes and the absence of
expression on her face.
She put her head on one
side as if weighing him up, then turned and walked away, calling over
her shoulder. ‘Hurry up, Jack Brennan. Papa hates lateness to
table.’
He followed her along the
hallway and into the dining room. Another gloomy room, although this
time with a feeble fire burning in the grate. The dark green walls
were hung with paintings: mostly featuring schooners making their way
through stormy seas.
Mr MacBride was sitting at
the head of the table. Without looking up he said, ‘Do you like
paintings, Mr Brennan?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’m something of a
collector.’
‘I can see that, sir.’
‘Know much about art do
you, lad?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Neither do I.’ He
didn’t elaborate on the reason for the collection. ‘Have you met
my daughter, Miss Mary Ellen MacBride?’
‘I’ve just had that
pleasure, sir.’
‘Pleasure? Don’t be
getting ideas, young man.’
Jack swallowed. ‘I’m
sorry, sir. I didn’t mean – I was just…’
‘Spit it out, man. Say
what you mean. Mean what you say.’
Jack swallowed, trying to
summon the confidence that he didn’t feel. ‘What I meant to say
was it is an honour to make the acquaintance of both yourself and
your daughter. I do not wish to cause offence.’
Mary Ellen, standing beside
him, started to giggle.
MacBride barked at his
daughter. ‘Don’t be tiresome, Mary Ellen. Stop that or you can go
to your room.'
MacBride’s tone was sharp
and Jack was taken aback. The woman must be approaching thirty and
yet her father spoke to her as if she were a naughty child.
She sat down, her brow
furrowed by repressed anger. Mr MacBride said grace and then the
supper was consumed in complete silence, punctuated only by the sound
of MacBride masticating his food. The meal was simple: a mutton stew
with boiled potatoes and cabbage, but the portions were generous and
Jack had not eaten so well in his life. He wondered whether to
initiate some conversation, but decided to take his cue from his
host, who ate with remarkable speed.
Jack took the opportunity
to study his companions. Mr MacBride was short and stout and clearly
enjoyed his food, eating with relish, while his tall, slender
daughter barely touched hers, playing with it rather than eating it.
There appeared to be little familial affection between them. Dinners
at Virginia Lodge were unlikely to be the source of intellectual
stimulation or conviviality, but, while the company may have been
taciturn, Jack had no regrets about running away from home.
About the Author
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