Away With The Fae

Chapter Two

Zylphia turned away and started down the path for home, pausing only once to look back and wave goodbye. The narrow trail, bounded on either side by oak trees, was secluded and peaceful, insulated from the outside world and rarely travelled by any not local to the area. Zylphia walked on through the summer's dusk, enjoying the golden light as it filtered through the greenery surrounding her, dappling the path at her feet. The scent of apples and pears hung in the air heralding a good harvest from the orchards come autumn. Their sweet aroma blended with the heavenly perfume of Dame's Violet and honeysuckle growing in the hedgerow, making the very air seem full of the promise of good things to come. It was truly a magical time of evening, or so Zylphia had always thought, but never more so than now when life seemed poised to give her everything she dreamed of.

Her mind buzzed with excitement and her young romantic heart was ablaze with hope, even as she dreaded the coming separations from those she loved as family. This very evening was the last before she and Jack took the final irrevocable step of the plan they had been nurturing for the last year. They would take ship to America from Queenstown and get married on board before landing in New York. It was a simple enough proposition and yet the obstacles in their path had been numerous and not easy to dismiss.

Zylphia's joy was unbounded, to hear Jack whisper his devotion to her had been the most thrilling experience of her young life. It was so easy to forget that she was English and the daughter of an Englishman. So easy to forget that a liaison with one of the native Irish was unthinkable for someone of her station. Though her father's family was Catholic, they felt no kinship with their wild Irish neighbours and brothers in faith. Descended from one of the many Spanish families that had settled in England centuries ago, Zylphia's ancestors had long ago abandoned their original name of Flores for Flowers. Soon they had become more English than the English themselves.

Falling in love with Jack had been all too easy, one chance meeting outside the small Catholic church they both attended had undone them both. She had dropped her missal at the door and Jack had taken it up and returned it to her with his own special gallant flair. His charming smile, warm blue eyes and tousled blonde curls had melted her heart and emboldened her to the point where she asked his name and had given him hers in return. They sought each other out on market days in the local town, communicating only with smiles and longing looks. It seemed like forever before they found a common acquaintance in the form of Mrs Mary Collins, the village postmistress, who could act as a bridge between them.

Mary, who was the very soul of kindly wisdom, had divined the unspoken truth between Jack and Zylphia without a word having to be said. She'd invited Zylphia to her home for tea. It was a perfectly respectable invitation and there was no reason for Zylphia's father, the local shipping agent, to refuse her permission to go. She and Jack were able to meet at least once a month in this fashion, sheltered by Mrs Collins' benevolence and their attraction had blossomed into love.

It was apparent that they could not remain in Ireland once married. Jack would be arrested and transported, or worse, for daring to rise above his lowly station by stealing Zylphia from her father. And even if the law upheld their marriage, over her father's objections, Jack, as the son of a tenant farmer, had nothing to offer Zylphia but a life of bare subsistence working the landlord's soil for little or no reward. Her family would disown her, and the life of comparative luxury she knew now would disappear forever. Their children would be born into poverty and they would die pauper's deaths. It was a grim prospect.

But dreams of a new life together in a new world gave them hope in their darkest hours. They hatched a plan that would give them the fresh start they so desperately needed. Jack, a talented musician, was always in demand for local weddings and wakes, and carefully saved every penny he could from the small fees he charged for playing the fiddle. And then there was the jewellery, willed to Zylphia by her mother comprising a solid gold locket on a thick gold chain, a ruby ring and a string of perfectly matched pearls. Jack had found a pawnbroker in Queenstown with a rich clientele, the jewellery had yielded enough to pay the price of their passage to America and more.