studied the men gathered around. Boyle, O'Malley, Jameson, and a hard-faced man named Duson from the islands. But not her old friend from home at Kildare, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who was still deep in hiding.
And they should all be in hiding really, she thought wryly, twirling her pencil nervously between her fingers. With watchful military men like Will back in Dublin, they had to be doubly careful.
She frowned, tapping the pencil against the table. She should be the one most careful. It had been three weeks now since she and Will became lovers, three days since she last saw him at a card party. Then he vanished from Dublin. They said his regiment was sent on patrol to Queen's County, so she agreed to attend this hidden meeting.
Where was he? Was he only biding his time until he caught her out?
"Lady Mount Clare has generously agreed to act as secretary, in Mr. O'Connor's absence," Boyle said, dragging her out of her whirlwind thoughts. "We will keep this meeting as short as possible."
"Aye, the longer we stay, the greater the chance of a raid," Jameson, the delegate from Munster, said harshly.
Eliza glanced around the windowless room, a cellar far beneath a bookshop. All seemed quiet outside, but the very air in the stuffy little chamber seemed to shimmer with tension. The usual civility of an executive committee meeting, as opposed to the rowdier general meetings, seemed strained.
"Then perhaps you will give us the news from Munster, Mr. Jameson," Boyle said, nodding to Eliza.
She jotted down the reports as each man spoke, using the code she would translate into dispatches to send around the country. If she was caught with the notes now, they would merely look like a lady's rambling diary of gowns and tea parties. In reality, they were words of arms, troops, hiding places, strategy.
The island delegate finished up the reports with tales of caves that could be used to hide guns from France—if they ever showed up as promised. So much depended on that, and Eliza didn't like that at all. Surely the uprising should depend on the Irish alone now.
She studied each man's face, their expressions written with grim determination in the faint lamplight What was writ on her own face when Will looked at her? What did he read there with his too-perceptive gaze?
She took a deep breath, setting thoughts of Will aside for the moment "Gentlemen," she said. "It sounds as if the work in the counties is progressing much as planned. Now it is Dublin's turn."
Boyle frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "In what way, Lady Mount Clare?"
'Tomorrow night is the queen's birthday ball at the Castle," Eliza said. "All members of the Irish Parliament, all the nobility, will be there."
"Are you suggesting we mount an attack on the Castle?" Jameson said. "On a day's notice?"
Eliza laughed. "I would hardly say we are ready for that. No, our cause can be served in a much ... quieter fashion, I think."
A ripple of interest went around the table. "What do you suggest, Lady Mount Clare?" O'Malley asked.
"I suggest," Eliza answered, "that people such as Lord Lieutenant Camden will be much preoccupied with the festivities. His offices will be empty, and guards are often easily bypassed in a party atmosphere. Especially by tipsy ladies..."
Boyle laughed. "You are bold, my lady."
'Taking a little peek at papers left carelessly lying about is not as bold as going into pitched battle," Eliza said, starting to gather up her own papers—and trying not to think of battles that would surely involve Will. "But we all do what we can. I suggest you all watch for a new dispatch soon, gentlemen."
'Troop numbers?" O'Malley asked. "Regimental movements into the counties?"
"If we're fortunate," Eliza answered. She thought of Will and the Thirteenth marching on St Stephen's Green. But this was what she had set out to do; she would finish it.
"Now, if there is no more business, I must go before I am missed. Good night, gentlemen. And Erin go bragh"
Will
And they should all be in hiding really, she thought wryly, twirling her pencil nervously between her fingers. With watchful military men like Will back in Dublin, they had to be doubly careful.
She frowned, tapping the pencil against the table. She should be the one most careful. It had been three weeks now since she and Will became lovers, three days since she last saw him at a card party. Then he vanished from Dublin. They said his regiment was sent on patrol to Queen's County, so she agreed to attend this hidden meeting.
Where was he? Was he only biding his time until he caught her out?
"Lady Mount Clare has generously agreed to act as secretary, in Mr. O'Connor's absence," Boyle said, dragging her out of her whirlwind thoughts. "We will keep this meeting as short as possible."
"Aye, the longer we stay, the greater the chance of a raid," Jameson, the delegate from Munster, said harshly.
Eliza glanced around the windowless room, a cellar far beneath a bookshop. All seemed quiet outside, but the very air in the stuffy little chamber seemed to shimmer with tension. The usual civility of an executive committee meeting, as opposed to the rowdier general meetings, seemed strained.
"Then perhaps you will give us the news from Munster, Mr. Jameson," Boyle said, nodding to Eliza.
She jotted down the reports as each man spoke, using the code she would translate into dispatches to send around the country. If she was caught with the notes now, they would merely look like a lady's rambling diary of gowns and tea parties. In reality, they were words of arms, troops, hiding places, strategy.
The island delegate finished up the reports with tales of caves that could be used to hide guns from France—if they ever showed up as promised. So much depended on that, and Eliza didn't like that at all. Surely the uprising should depend on the Irish alone now.
She studied each man's face, their expressions written with grim determination in the faint lamplight What was writ on her own face when Will looked at her? What did he read there with his too-perceptive gaze?
She took a deep breath, setting thoughts of Will aside for the moment "Gentlemen," she said. "It sounds as if the work in the counties is progressing much as planned. Now it is Dublin's turn."
Boyle frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "In what way, Lady Mount Clare?"
'Tomorrow night is the queen's birthday ball at the Castle," Eliza said. "All members of the Irish Parliament, all the nobility, will be there."
"Are you suggesting we mount an attack on the Castle?" Jameson said. "On a day's notice?"
Eliza laughed. "I would hardly say we are ready for that. No, our cause can be served in a much ... quieter fashion, I think."
A ripple of interest went around the table. "What do you suggest, Lady Mount Clare?" O'Malley asked.
"I suggest," Eliza answered, "that people such as Lord Lieutenant Camden will be much preoccupied with the festivities. His offices will be empty, and guards are often easily bypassed in a party atmosphere. Especially by tipsy ladies..."
Boyle laughed. "You are bold, my lady."
'Taking a little peek at papers left carelessly lying about is not as bold as going into pitched battle," Eliza said, starting to gather up her own papers—and trying not to think of battles that would surely involve Will. "But we all do what we can. I suggest you all watch for a new dispatch soon, gentlemen."
'Troop numbers?" O'Malley asked. "Regimental movements into the counties?"
"If we're fortunate," Eliza answered. She thought of Will and the Thirteenth marching on St Stephen's Green. But this was what she had set out to do; she would finish it.
"Now, if there is no more business, I must go before I am missed. Good night, gentlemen. And Erin go bragh"
Will
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