On The Brave:

O’Malley and Donnie *going through the books that O’Malley borrowed from Corso’s office trying to find as much information about the ritual as possible.*

Donnie *picks up one of the books and begins leafing through the pages; frowns*  Grace, how’s your Latin?

O’Malley *looks up from the book she’s reading*  My Latin?  It be rusty at best, luv.  *Sighs*  Don’t tell me the whole bloody thing is in Latin?

Donnie:  Afraid so … and there’s a drawing looking somewhat like what you described from your vision, but I can’t read the text.  *Hands O’Malley the book opened to a page with the drawing of the ritual*

O’Malley *instantly recognizes the scene in the drawing*  Aye, this be the ritual.  *Looks at the text; muttering*  Bloody ‘ell, I should’ve nicked a Latin-English dictionary while I was at it.  *Places the book on the floor next to her*  That be the ‘might be useful an’ look at it later’ pile.  Le’s go o’er the others first, see if we can’t find something in English, savvy?

Donnie *nods*  Good plan.  *With a pensive expression*  We should probably also think about what to do when or if you confront Father Connolly … I mean, if his friends are shamans too, I don’t think the “throwing things at them” strategy is going to be enough.

O’Malley:  Ye’re right, that won’t do.  I reckon brains will beat strength, eh?  *Rises from the floor as someone knocks on the cabin door; looks back over her shoulder*  Perhaps I best be focusin’ on witchcraft fer this one.  *Opens the door and sees the mailman Mike*  ‘Ello mate, how are ye?

Mike *smiles*  Hello Miss O’Malley, I’m fine.  How are you?  I have a letter for you.  *Hands her an envelope*

O’Malley:  I’m right as rain, cheers mate.  I’d invite ye in fer a coffee or a drink, but we’re a bit occupied the moment.

Mike:  That’s all right, I should be going anyway.  *Begins to leave; turns*  It’s such a pleasure delivering mail here … always a friendly reception, unlike certain other places.  *Shudders at the thought of delivering mails and packages to Bournemouth House; waves goodbye and leaves.  O’Malley closes the cabin door and returns to her spot on the floor; opens the envelope*

Donnie:  Who’s it from?

O’Malley *frowns as she reads the short letter*  It’s from Father Connolly.  He’s asking me te meet ‘im at the meadow.

Donnie *Expression of concern*  I don’t think you should go … could be a setup.

O’Malley:  I don’t reckon it is.  He be needin’ me te be sound fer the ritual.  He wouldn’t ‘arm me now.

Donnie:  Maybe … but …

O’Malley *cuts him off; rises from the floor again and grabs her coat and hat*  No worries luv, I’ll be back soon enough.

Donnie *still concerned*  All right, but be careful!

O’Malley:  I promise … *kisses Donnie and leaves for the meadow*

At Rartigillichal:

Lady Cynthia *had put on exceptionally sensible shoes for the long walk, but her feet ache when she finally gets to the yard.  She looks around disapprovingly.  She had waited for something fancier than just an old mill house.  She knocks on the door with her gloved hand and waits for response*

Manouche:  WHOOAA!!!!!  *screeching at the top of her lungs from a distance, coming closer to the main house at high speed, desperately clinging to the mane of the stallion, riding bareback*  BLOODY ‘ELL, DON’T YE UNDERSTAN’ TH’ KING’S ENGLISH, I SAID WHOOAAA!!!!!!  *the horse finally obliges, comes to an abrupt stop close to the house, kicking up a huge cloud of dust that has Lady Cynthia choking and coughing, and waving a gloved hand before her face.  Manouche loses her grip from the sudden stop and yells as she’s thrown from the horse’s back and lands in a large hydrangea bush*  Oww!!  *the bush rustles noisily as she scrambles to pull herself up; she staggers out of the tangle of brush, glares at the horse, holds up an admonishing finger*  We ain’t done, mate.  *horse pulls its lips back in a grin, and she can’t help but grin back.  She starts brushing herself off, then turns, sees Lady Cynthia, her eyes wide*  Oh, blimey, apologies, luv!  Didn’t see ye standin’ there.  *nods toward horse*  New acquisition, as it were … he an’ I are jus’ gettin’ acquainted.  *steps forward, extends dirty hand*  I don’t recall that we’ve met proper, though I know well who ye are.  Name’s Manouche … an’ yer th’ Inspector’s sister … Cyndi, right?

Lady Cynthia *brushing her suit, barely touches the extended hand with two fingers*  Enchanted to meet you, Mrs. Blake.  I am Lady Cynthia Ainesworth.  It seems that your stallion is a little ... wild.  I would recommend using a whip on it.  I simply adore horses.  Dear Cecil and I organize every year fox hunts.  I understand that you are a close friend both to my brother and my charming sister-in-law.   

Manouche *raises eyebrow*  I see.  Well, I ‘ave no doubt th’ horses return yer feelin’s for ‘em in kind.  *frowns, brings hand up to her wild hair, runs fingers through it, pulls out a small twig with a leaf or two attached to it, tosses it to the ground*  Aye, Kat an’ th’ Inspector are me mates.  Would ye care t’ come inside?  Can I offer ye somethin’?  *opens door, holds it open for her*

Lady Cynthia:  Horses obey me well if that is what you mean.  *steps inside, looking curiously around her, registering the details, a little surprised at the decoration, which seems to be rather stylish, if one goes for that kind of rural taste*  Thank you my dear, I would not mind a cup of coffee.  Black, no cream, no sugar.  Prefereably espresso.  I have come to talk to you about my dear brother, as you probably guess, but I am also charmed to meet one of the most outstanding citizens of Deppville.  *even though the money comes from a lottery win ...*  You have a very ... picturesque little home here. 

Manouche *grins to herself, glad that she asked for coffee, which is one of her specialties, particularly espresso*  Coffee it is, luv.  Come to th’ kitchen, I’ll ‘ave it fer ye in two shakes.  *she brings her to the kitchen, has her take a seat at the large butcher block counter, gets out the espresso machine*  I’m pleased t’ make yer acquaintance, as well, an’ I’m glad ye like me home.  I can see where it may not be to everyone’s taste, but it suits me quite well.  ‘Ave I become an outstandin’ citizen?  I ‘ave a feelin’ Commander Portsmith may offer ye a different opinion on that’un.  *laughs as she gets out cups, opens a drawer and goes for the good linen napkins, assembles everything on a tray; turns to her as they wait for the coffee*  So what would ye like t’ discuss regardin’ th’ Inspector?  Last time I saw ‘im was at Celeste … well, ye know all about that, ye were there, weren’t ye?  Bloody unfortunate, weren’t it?  I hope all th’ ruffled feathers ‘ave been smoothed down.

Lady Cynthia *raises an eyebrow at the espresso machine and sits down crossing her ankles, takes off her gloves*  Yes, that was a very unfortunate incident, and as far as I understand not the first one of its kind.  He never behaved like that in public when he was with little sweet Victoria.  You should have seen her.  She was a real lady.  So, I have to make the conclusion that his wife has a very bad influence on him.  But he married her only for the child.  He has always been too rash and impatient to contemplate before he acts ... She really is a pirate, isn't she?  And an Indian?  *wrinkles her nose*  And she has a bas ... an illegitimate child, hasn't she?

Manouche *watches her for a moment, thinks to herself, ahh, so th’ gloves are off; she busies herself putting together a plate of croissants and placing it on the tray, to give herself time to calm her temper, then she sits down*  I ‘ave seen Victoria … *thinks of her time in the soul box with a shiver, then quickly corrects herself*  Ahh, that is, I’ve seen photographs of ‘er.  She were beautiful, that’s a fact.  *looks at Lady Cynthia steadily*  I think originally, yer brother wanted t’ marry Kat fer th’ child more than anythin’ else.  He wanted t’ do th’ right thing, as he saw it.  But I watched ‘em once they decided t’ make that commitment, an’ it’s become more than that.  They genuinely love each other.  *smiles slightly*  I’ll grant that he’s got his impulsive side, an’ it can be troublesome, more to himself than anyone else most times.  But he’s a good man, yer brother.  As fer Kat … aye, it’s true, she’s a pirate, like meself … an’ she’s an Indian, Cherokee, t’ be exact, if memory serves.  An’ she has a beautiful son, Raven … THEY ‘ave an illegitimate child, mate, not jus' she.  Yer brother an’ Kat.  As fer puttin’ responsibility on Kat fer his behavior as of late … that don’t seem to give yer brother much credit, does it?  To say that he’d be so easily influenced an' radically changed by a mere woman, an Indian pirate, at that.  I reckon th’ Inspector’s got more backbone than that.  *she rises, pours out espresso, picks up the tray*  C’mon, luv, let’s go to th’ sunroom, this is th’ best time o’ day to enjoy it.  *she leads her through the house to the sunroom, sets the tray down on a table in front of a small couch, they sit down*  I hope ye like th’ coffee.  Truth be told, I seldom run into anyone ‘round ‘ere who fancies espresso as much as I do, so this is a treat fer me.  Help yerself to a croissant, if ye like.  *she sips the coffee*  Now then, what else can I tell ye?

Lady Cynthia *takes the cup and daintily sips the beverage, nods approvingly*  My compliments on your espresso.  *looks at her sharply*  I see.  You don't know him very well, do you.  Let me be frank with you.  I give all the credit he's due, but unfortunately that doesn't amount to much.  In some ways he is so very much like dear Father, as stubborn and cold as he, and he has inherited the bad temper of Father, too.  Frederick refuses to talk to me.  I would not mind that much, because we never were very close.  I don't think that anyone can ever be very close to him.  But now, there are some matters of utmost importance I have to discuss with him.  Have you ever thought how he can keep that house of his with an Inspector's pay, especially with his vices?  He can't have worked very efficiently.  I want you to help me to get in touch with him.  Without that horrible wife of his.  This marriage is so unfortunate, I don't understand how he ever could even choose to date an Indian.  She is just a treasure hunter of the worst sort, and he still does not understand what marriage is about.  How close are you to him, I hope there's nothing … that you don't know him too well, so to say.  *looks at her with suspicion*  

Manouche *takes another drink of coffee, sets the cup down, thinks for awhile before responding*  Strange, that ye would be askin’ me t’ help ye get in touch with yer own brother, especially considerin’ th’ fact that ye don’t know how close he an’ I are, an’ ye say yerself that apparently I don’t know ‘im well.  Leads me to wonder why ye would approach me fer this particular task in th’ first place.  I’m sure ye recall how he snapped at me at Celeste, before he stormed out.  I don’t reckon he wants t’ see me right now, an’ I’ve learned t’ give him a wide berth when he’s in these moods.  I’d say ye’d be better off talkin’ to his longtime mate, Sergeant Godley.  They’re quite close, an’ he’s always known how t’ deal with yer brother in all his moods, savvy?  *pauses*  I ‘aven’t speculated on how th’ Inspector keeps his home, ‘cause it’s none o’ me business – *she looks at Lady Cynthia pointedly* – an’ such pryin’ queries would be a sure sign o’ bad breedin’, n'est-ce pas?  That's more a family matter.  An' while I'm fond o' th' Inspector, I ain't his family.  Last but not least ... one more disparagin’ word about Kat, an’ I’ll throw ye out, an’ I mean that in th’ most literal sense.  It’d be a pity to muss yer fine kit, darlin’ ... *nods toward her hat* ... an’ I reckon that stallion o’ mine is still out front an’ would be right keen on makin’ a snack outta that straw chapeau.  *calmly reaches over, picks up cup, sips coffee again, smiles charmingly at Lady Cynthia*  So glad ye like th’ coffee, luv.  Tell me a bit about yerself, now.  Where are ye from, exactly?  I’m guessin’ that you’re nouveau riche, like meself, judgin’ by yer impetuous chat an’ blunt questions.  It’s bloody hard, innit, changin’ our ways jus’ ‘cause we’ve come into a bit o’ money.  Per’aps we can learn together, ay?  ‘Course, there ain’t nearly as much fun to be had bein’ a lady, is there?  I reckon ye know all about that.  Ye can put a mule in a fine horse rig, but it’s a mule all th’ same, innit?  *nudges her, grins*

Lady Cynthia *listens to her with a polite smile on her pink lips, drinks the coffee*  I would very much like another cup, dear.  I got to admire you, not only because of your magnificent espresso, but because you are so much smarter than Commander Portsmith.  Sergeant Godley is not in town.  Very well.  *takes a croissant, rips it and starts to eat it*  I'll leave your pretty mate in peace.  My congratulations for her on being so clever and trapping the stupid sod and his money.  And since you wanted to know more about me, here are the facts.  Fine.  I am not nouveau riche.  Fact is, I am not rich at all.  Sir Cecil *says the name with contempt and sarcasm, emphasis on the title* could have been one of these nouveau riche, if he hadn't been the bloody incompetent freakin' idiot he is.  *smiles at Manouche's surprise at her choice of words*  I don't know what tales dear Freddie has spun to you, but I guess he's about as much a gentleman as you are a lady.  Nice facade, ain't it.  The Abberlines are respectable enough, especially my revered Father, though they descend from coarse peasants from Dorset.  He ain't even that.  You want to know the truth about Fred?  He's a damn bastard himself, the son of a dirty servant wench.  I did not come over here to make my peace with him nor bring him my Mother's money.  I am here to claim my own inheritance.  I read the letter Mother sent him, and learned that he's just a bastard, born out of wedlock, and he has no right to the inheritance he snatched from my dear Grandmother.  I want my part back.  I want the French jewel set with that ring.  And I want enough money to be able to get out of this hellhole and start a fashion shop.  I want Fred to give my share of the inheritance.  And I want to talk to him.  You must help me.

Manouche *listens, then smiles*  Is that what this is all about?  Blimey, ye 'ad me worried, I thought it were somethin' far more serious.  Lady Cynthia, ye ‘ave nothin’ to worry about.  Ye got Kat all wrong.  She don’t want Fred's money … she jus’ wants Fred.  I promise ye, luv, that’s th’ truth.  If she were a golddigger, she would've gone after his money when she were pregnant with Raven.  I think she’d be relieved to not feel she has to behave like a wealthy lady.  She's found all that pressure dauntin’ from day one.  *takes a piece of croissant*  Aye, I know all about Fred's real mum … Vernet was ‘er name, right?  Never mind how I know, I jus’ know.  *ignores Lady Cynthia’s look of surprise, peers into her cup*  Hang on, I'll get us a refill.  *she grabs both cups, goes to the kitchen, pours out the remaining espresso, returns, sits down*  ‘Ere ye are, luv.  Now, as I were sayin’ … I honestly don’t think ye ‘ave a thing to worry about.  Yer brother’s aware of his real mum, though I don’t believe he knows ‘er name.  But he knows about his … illegitimacy.  I reckon all he wants now is t’ be able to support his family.  That’s all he’s ever really wanted, y’know, a family.  Now he’s got one, an’ he simply wants to provide a good life fer ‘em all.  An’ he’s so excited about that new baby.  So when it comes to talk o’ inheritance an’ all … knowin’ Fred as I do, I can’t imagine him standin’ in th’ way o’ ye receivin’ yer fair share o’ anythin’.  If that’s all ye want t’ talk to him about, I honestly don’t see why ye would need me.  Matter o’ fact, he’d prob’ly be more agreeable if ye didn’t bring me into it.  He might find it humiliatin' if I'm involved, me bein' an outsider an' all.  Ye know how private he is.  *laughs*  It's amusin', innit ... 'ere's a man who's seen all manner o' horrors in th' course of his investigative work, an' yet he goes squeamish when it comes to talk about personal money matters, family secrets, an' th' like.  *grins, shakes her head*  No worries 'ere that I can see.  All ye ‘ave to do is go to th’ house an' see 'im, an’ lay it on th’ line, like ye jus’ did fer me right ‘ere, savvy?  Ye'll get no trouble from Kat, I promise ye.  Not th' Kat I know.  *drinks*

Lady Cynthia *sighs*  You still don't get it, do you.  He hates me.  If I tried to go to Bournemouth House, he simply would throw me out, because that is how he is.  For some reason he's never liked me.  Not much talking, eh, smartie?  See, that is why I need you, as a go-between.  He and his wife can stick together best they want and breed a dozen of kids if they fancy that, I don't care, but I won't have him taking the inheritance that lawfully is mine.  Actually … *and a small smile curves slightly her lips* … the whole house belongs to me.  If he doesn't need the money, I do.  *drinks the espresso and slams the cup on the table*  So, I propose a nice little deal - you get him to meet and listen to me, and I leave him and his pirate wench alone to do what they want.  He can keep the chest.  *thinks for a while*  Not to slander that 'mate' of yours, she could not have done that with that boy, because Fred was still married to Victoria, wasn't he.

Manouche *winces slightly as she slams the cup, then sighs*  Right, ‘ere’s what I’ll do, an’ I don’t see that I can do any more than this.  I’ll try t’ talk to th’ Inspector, an’ I’ll tell ‘im everything jus’ as you’ve said it to me ‘ere an’ now, savvy?  Cards on th’ table.  After that, it’s entirely up to him how he decides to handle it.  Understand that I won’t be goin’ with th’ intention o’ pleadin’ yer case, nor arguin’ against it.  So if he hears th’ facts from me as ye’ve told ‘em to me, an’ he still chooses not to meet with ye, there’s nothin’ I can do about that.  I’m sure I don’t ‘ave to tell ye that yer brother ain’t easily influenced by anyone, meself included.  Y’see, Lady Cynthia … I’m tired.  I’ve come away from recent experiences with th’ realization that there’s only so much I can do fer me mates.  Sooner or later, we all ‘ave to learn our limits, don’t we?  *looks away for a moment; looks back, sees the blank expression on Lady Cynthia’s face, realizes she’s not making much sense, smiles*  Ah, never mind.  Suffice to say, I’ll do what I can t’ get him to meet with ye.  If he don’t, then he’ll ‘ave to suffer th’ consequences, includin’ any harassin’ from you toward him an’ Kat.  *shakes her head, looks at the remainder of the croissant in her hand, tosses it back on the plate, looks at Lady Cynthia again, smirks*  I’m surprised at ye, luv.  Surely ye know that if a woman finds ‘erself in a family way an’ is determined to take th’ gent’s money, she won’t give a toss whether he’s married.  I’m not sayin’ that Kat would’ve won, but she could’ve tried t’ blackmail ‘im, could’ve easily demanded money from ‘im to keep th’ dirty lil’ secret from his wife.  It’s right Pollyanna of ye not t’ think of that.  Y’don’t ‘ave to be a soap opera buff to know that’un – read up on yer history.  Great leaders of civilizations ‘ave been brought to ruin by such scandals.  *drains her cup, sets it down*  I’ll go see th’ Inspector tomorrow, an’ we’ll see how it goes.  Anythin’ else?

Lady Cynthia:  All I need is to get in and not be thrown immediately out or be pushed into the water.  *she grabs a croissant and starts to eat it hungrily*  This is so delicious ... How on earth can you stay so slim?  *She eats the whole croissant and pushes the crumbs on the floor*  Now, I don't want you to plead for or against, leave that to me.  I know how he is, but believe me, I have my ways to handle him ... Isn't it good that this dirty little secret never reached Victoria's ears?  And he was so pretending to be in love.  *smirks*  Maybe we’ll even make it up and have a nice little family reunion with all that oh-so-moving talk of forgiving and forgetting old grudges, and that the family is everything, and so on, with a handkerchief in hand ... *She adjusts her straw hat and in a moment turns into a lady again*  My dear Mrs. Blake, it was so charming to see you and your beautiful little house in the wilderness.  Please visit my boutique when you are in town next time, the Pink Perfection has some dresses that would look just splendid on you.  *rises up and pulls her gloves on and straightens her skirt, smiles politely*  How unfortunate that I have to leave already.  Thank you for your amazing espresso.  Could you call a cab for me or my new shoes will be ruined?  Blahniks are not made for walks in the wood, but style beats comfort any time, doesn't it, darling?

Manouche *hides a grin as she sees that a couple of the crumbs Lady Cynthia brushed to the floor have stuck to one of her Blahniks, and she inwardly congratulates herself for having used extra butter in the croissant recipe this time*  I’m glad ye like me cookin’ an’ espresso, luv.  *laughs*  Sergeant Godley has helped me stay slim in th’ past.  Used t’ be, th’ minute I’d bring a batch o’ somethin’ out of th’ cooker, he’d magically appear an’ take th’ lion’s share off me hands.  *she rises with Lady Cynthia, walks with her through the house toward the front*  No worries about th’ walk, I’ll be happy t’ call ye a taxi.  *she goes into the sitting room, picks up the phone, calls DeNiro, hangs up; joins Lady Cynthia at the front door, opens it*  C’mon, we’ll wait outside.  *they step out into the cool late afternoon breeze*  I’ll come by yer boutique sometime, though I’m not sure th’ goods’ll be me style.  As ye can see, I’m not much fer haute couture.  I appreciate it an’ enjoy lookin’ at it, like most women, but … even with me money, I don’t know that I’d ‘ave much occasion fer such finery.  If things had turned out as I’d hoped, an’ Mr. Blake were … well, y’see, we was plannin’ on renewin’ our vows in a proper weddin’ ceremony come mid-October.  We were goin’ to do it a week after me birthday … but all that’s been put on hold, as it were.  *she looks away, a little annoyed with herself for having brought up something so personal to this woman she doesn’t completely trust, then she shrugs it off, turns back to her*  Anyway, I’ll stop by an’ see what ye ‘ave to offer, an’ I’m obliged fer th’ invite.  Certainly every woman should own one classic lil’ black dress, so per’aps ye’ll ‘ave jus’ th’ thing fer me along those lines.  *she looks up, relieved to see DeNiro pull into her drive before Lady Cynthia can ask any questions.  He parks the cab, jumps out, holds open the door for Lady Cynthia.  Manouche suffers a hug and kiss on the cheek from her, smiles waving as she gets into the cab and they drive off.  When they’re out of sight, she frowns and rubs the lipstick from her cheek, thinks for a minute, then goes back into the house.  She soon comes back out after putting the dishes back in the kitchen, wrapping up the croissants, then changing out of her dusty clothes from her horseback ride into neater clothes and a coat.  She goes down to the river, takes the tiny boat, pushes off and starts making her way toward town, thinking she’d better not wait much longer to talk to Abberline about all this; the sooner the better.  She hopes he’s home, and that he’s cooled off and won’t snap at her again … *