The River of No Return

Julia heard the quaver in her voice and hated herself for it.
    Eamon leaned back in his chair. “Have you never been in love, Julia? At your advanced age?”
    Julia said nothing. There was nothing to say.
    “Oh, come now, Julia. Surely you know if you have been in love. Such a dusty, dried-up old maid you are becoming. Surely you must have longed to go to London to catch a handsome, rich husband. Surely you begged and pleaded.” He raised his voice into a sickly falsetto. “‘Please, Grandpapa. Please let me go.’”
    Julia had to fight to keep her temper even. Eamon was so much nastier and more repellant than she remembered. Over the years she had met him five or six times. He would turn up at Castle Dar belligerent and in need of money. He would stay a night or two, and Julia remembered his needling her, teasing . . . she would get angrier and angrier until she was about to burst, and she would stare at Eamon until she seemed to see him at the end of a long dark tunnel, fixed in her gaze like an insect on a pin.
    Always at that moment, just when she had Eamon in her sights, Grandfather would say her name, catch her angry glance, and wink. Then Grandfather would stop time. Eamon would be caught, frozen, and Grandfather would walk over to him and make him stand in ludicrous positions or stick a twist of paper up his nose. Julia and Grandfather would laugh at him, and then Grandfather would put everything to rights and make time speed up again. Eamon would awaken, entirely unaware that any time had passed.
    Now Grandfather was dead and couldn’t use his time tricks to control Eamon anymore. Grandfather was dead, and Eamon had inherited his wealth, his land, and his title.
    “Speechless, kitten? Do not think I’ll take you to London to find you a husband, because I will not. Your grandfather ruined you for marriage, anyway. You, Julia, are abrupt and rude. Half unpolished girl, half uncouth boy. Already twenty-two years old, with only a thousand a year upon marriage or when you turn twenty-five.” Eamon shook his head. “It’s a pity. You ain’t a very good prospect, Cousin. You will have to stay and be a comfort to me in my bachelorhood. And when I find a wife, I’m sure she won’t mind having a spinster cousin to help her tend the babes.”
    Julia was losing the battle to stay calm. When she was twenty-five she would be free . . . but that was three years away. Grandfather should have thought about this. But he had considered himself invincible, a lion. “Time for that tomorrow!” She could almost hear him say it. He was a dead lion now. A tear coursed down her cheek, and she dashed it away angrily with her fist. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves, but her hands were shaking in her lap.
    “Fascinating,” Eamon said. “Are you crying because you don’t want to give up your place in the household to another woman? Or because Grandpapa didn’t give you more money? Neither reason is very flattering, kitten. You are either selfish or greedy or both.”
    Julia grew cold and then fiery hot. “You disgust me. If Grandfather were here he would—he would—”
    Eamon raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You stammer when you are angry. It is almost charming.” Eamon got up from the desk and stalked past her until he stood behind her chair. “But I am interested in that hopeless threat you were about to make. If Grandfather were here he would what?”
    Julia could smell Eamon’s acrid eagerness. Her stomach clenched.
    “What would Grandfather do, Julia?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “But you do know, don’t you?”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “It had to do with time, didn’t it?”
    Julia’s breath caught in her throat. He knew! “I don’t know,” she said again.
    “Yes, you do, kitten.” Eamon’s voice surrounded her. “Let me save you the trouble of telling me. The old rogue could pervert the flow of time. He could make it stop. He could do whatever he wanted then. He could quietly rearrange some accounts or some records or some wills to suit himself. Isn’t that so?”
    Julia stared straight ahead, her heart pounding. He knew. It was impossible, but yet he knew.
    Eamon’s breath tickled her hair; he must be bending over her like a vulture. “Your grandfather could play with time like a child plays with mud, isn’t that right? He was a dirty thief.”
    Julia raised her voice before she could stop herself: “Grandfather was not a thief! He only did it