Call Home the Heart - Sorcha MacMurrough
1-58345-072-6 hardcover 244 pp. $18.95; 1-58345-394-6 paper $12.95
Four- and- a-half-Star Review in Romantic Times, Top Pick of the Month, Historical Fiction, September 2000; Reviewers' Choice Award Nominee 2000
Young widow Muireann Graham Caldwell is left destitute by her dissolute husband, Augustine, killed in a shooting accident on their honeymoon. Faced with a choice between returning to her stifling parents in Scotland or taking a chance on running her own estate, Muireann finds an ally in the broodingly handsome Lochlainn Roche. He has secrets of his own to keep. As the Potato Famine rages across Ireland, can Muireann save her new home Barnakilla? Can she and her estate manager ever have a future together? Does he even love her? Or has he been using her all along?
buy the hardcover! buy the paperback! buy the ebook
Multi-published author Sorcha MacMurrough's many popular romance and historical titles appear exclusively at Domhan Books.
Review:
Ireland, 1845
Augustine Caldwell has found himself a rich, young Scottish wife and he's returned to Ireland and his financially strapped estate, Barnakilla. Tragedy strikes on their first night back, though, and Augustine is killed in a shooting accident in Dublin. His estate manager, Lochlainn Roche, finds the hysterical Muireann kneeling beside her dead husband and immediately makes some decisions that will change both of their lives forever. With Augustine dead, the estate will founder and all of its tenants will be cast out of their homes. Somehow, Lochlainn must convince the grieving widow to come with him to Barnakilla and claim her rights as Augustine's wife. To his surprise, Muireann wholeheartedly agrees, determined to make something of her life.
Muireann takes charge of resurrecting the run-down estate, selling her jewels and expensive dresses in Dublin to finance some of the restorations. Begging Lochlainn to stand by her, she shocks everyone on the estate by pitching in with the work and concocting moneymaking schemes to keep everyone fed. The normally taciturn Lochlainn, nursing a broken heart, slowly begins to fall in love again, sure that it will never be returned. The energetic young Muireann, however, is not the average spoiled rich girl -- she knows a good man when she's met one.
Set during the Potato Famine, CALL HOME THE HEART shows another side of that deadly era. Many people did stay and try to survive the hard times, working other crops or changing their farming techniques. Muireann and Lochlainn team together to keep the tenants of Barnakilla from suffering the fate of many of their fellow citizens. As neighboring estates shipped their people off to North America, Barnakilla's residents are encouraged to stay. The couple also must deal with the growing love they feel for one another. Both try to hide that emotion, each thinking the other is going to leave or deny their true feelings. There are also secrets that neither can reveal just yet, leading to several misunderstandings.
Beautifully written with strong characters, CALL HOME THE HEART is an emotionally charged tale of a desperate time. Muireann and Lochlainn overshadow any secondary characters, although Lochlainn's sister does make a powerful impression, as does the late Augustine and his strange behaviors. Great dialogue and impeccable historical accuracy made this an enjoyable read. I highly recommend this excellent novel.
Jani Brooks
Prologue
I pray thee leave, love me no more,
Call home the heart you gave me,
I but in vain the saint adore,
That can, but will, not save me.
Michael Drayton, To his Coy Love, 1619
Dublin, January 1845
The gunshot echoed throughout the corridors of the hotel. Lochlainn dropped his glass of cider and took the stairs two at a time.
"Mrs. Caldwell, Mrs. Caldwell, open the door! Mrs. Caldwell! Open the door, please! It’s Lochlainn Roche!" he shouted as he hammered at the oaken portal.
Lochlainn could hear nothing in the chamber apart from the sound of someone weeping. After jerking at the latch futilely for several seconds, he threw all of his weight against the solid bulk of the door.
"Muireann! Muireann! Open up, please!" he demanded urgently between blows.
At last the manager of Gresham’s hotel, stunned by the noise and the commotion Lochlainn was causing in the corridor, produced his master key. With a deft flick of his wrist, Lochlainn opened the lock and stormed into his employer’s bedchamber. There he saw Muireann, Augustine Caldwell’s wife, kneeling beside the body of her husband.
It was evident from the state of his head, or what was left of it, that Augustine was dead.
"God, no, please, this can’t be happening to me!" Muireann whimpered as she rocked back and forth, tugging at the lapels of Augustine’s coat frantically
"Please, Augustine, please, don’t leave me here like this. Oh God, why!" she wailed, growing more and more hysterical, repeating the words over and over again.
At last Lochlainn, unsure as to what else he could do, tugged Muireann away from the corpse, and gave her a firm tap on the chin with his fist.
She crumpled like a rag doll into Lochlainn’s arms. He demanded of the manager, "Get me another room for Mrs. Caldwell, now!"
The little man, gaping at the carnage before him, barely heard a word Lochlainn said.
"I’ll see Mrs Caldwell’s things are moved myself. She must have some rest and is not be disturbed, is that clear?"
"I suppose I had better fetch a doctor," the manager asked doubtfully, shaking his head.
"For the lady, yes, Mr. Burns," Lochlainn replied grimly. "Augustine certainly doesn’t need one."
The hotelier stared at the handsome, raven-haired estate manager with something akin to horror. How could he remain so calm in the face of such an appalling spectacle?
Lochlainn’s steel-grey eyes warmed a little as he tried to soothe Mr. Burns’ ruffled feathers. "I imagine there must be certain formalities in these sorts of cases. I know I can trust you to help with whatever is required."
Lifting Muireann higher, and mor tightly to him, he followed the little grey-haired man as he led him down the corridor to a room at the back of the hotel, far from the noise of all the carriages passing outside through the busy streets of Dublin.
"This chamber is smaller, but the bed is quite large, and there is a truckle bed underneath as well. The lady shouldn’t be left alone," the hotelier said, staring regretfully at the unconscious, dishevelled form Lochlainn held in his arms as though she were as light as a feather.
"She won’t be alone. I’ll look after her, never fear," Lochlainn reassured the worried man as he laid Muireann down on the bed. "Just ask the doctor to look in on her whenever he is finished with Mr. Caldwell, if you please."
"Yes of course sir. What a terrible tragedy. And to think it happened in my hotel," the little man complained, almost in tears.
"A terrible tragedy to have happened anywhere, when someone takes their own life," Lochlainn observed grimly as he began to undo the top buttons of Muireann’s gown, and then removed her boots.
"But surely, sir, it was an accident!" the dapper little man gasped. "He was cleaning his gun, and--"
Lochlainn looked at the man in sheer disbelief. "You want me to lie, Mr. Burns?" he asked quietly, his grey eyes glittering dangerously.
"Not exactly lie, Mr. Roche, more, well, give another plausible version of events After all, his poor young wife. It is bad enough for her to have lost her husband on her honeymoon, without exposing the girl to unnecessary gossip and, well, dare I say it, scandal...." Mr. Burns trailed off with a weak smile.
Lochlainn sighed. "I hadn’t thought about that. You are absolutely right, Mr. Burns. I doubt that anyone’s interests would be served if the whole truth were to be revealed. Thank you for being so considerate of Mrs. Caldwell’s position. I am sure I can rely on your discretion."
The little man nodded, and stared sympathetically at the lovely dark-haired woman lying prostrate on the bed.
"Can you stay here for one moment while I go get Mrs. Caldwell’s things from the other room?"
"Yes, of course," Mr. Burns agreed readily.
Lochlainn was back in a few moments with several valises and an armful of gowns, and said, " I’ll wait here while you send a maid up to look after Mrs. Caldwell for a moment. Then I will finish clearing the room, and go fetch my things from the coach."
"Thank you, Mr. Roche. I’ll go attend to your, er, little problem, then, and will see you later," Mr. Burns said, and scurried out of the room.
Once he was alone with her, Lochlainn stripped Muireann’s blood-bespattered gown off her limp body and hurled it into the fire, before throwing the spare blanket resting at the foot of the bed over her.
Then he brought the armchair sitting by the window closer to the bed, and sat heavily in the chair, and cradled his head in his hands wearily.
Why had this happened, just when he had begun to hope there might be some light at the end of the tunnel for the Caldwell estate, Barnakilla? How had the Fates conspired to have everything he held most dear be taken away from him just when it all seemed to be falling into place for the first time in years? Disappointed in love, he had fled the estate where he and his sister Ciara had grown up, longing to escape from the memories.
The old lord Douglas Caldwell had been alive then, and Barnakilla had been a prosperous estate, elegant, well-ordered, despite Augustine’s extravagance, which his parents had indulged him in willingly since he had been an only child. But Douglas Caldwell had died, and then his wife, giving Augustine free rein to despoil the estate with his gambling and devil-may-care attitude to life.
Lochlainn had run away from the home that held such bittersweet memories for him, and had travelled the world, trying to seek his fame and fortune. He had done well enough for himself, certainly, but in his opinion Australia could never rival the beauties of Ireland, the glories of his home. Augustine Caldwell’s summons for Lochlainn to return to Barnakilla after three interminably long years had been the answer to his most heartfelt prayers.
But what would the future hold for him now? And what was to do with the delicate young beauty who lay prostrate on the bed? Poor girl. How had she come to be mixed up in all of this?
But then she had loved Augustine, hadn’t she? he wondered, as he recalled her hysteria in the bedroom a few moments before. I always did have the damnedest luck, Lochlainn thought with a grimace as he reached out to stroke her fair petal soft skin, and fingered her silky raven black hair as he admired her beauty while she slept. Her complexion was so pale, she looked as though she were a visitor from another realm. Her high cheekbones, long moderately thin nose which turned up slightly at the tip, and ruby red, full lips, might not be to every man’s taste, being so ethereal, but for Lochlainn she was lovelier than words could ever hope to describe.
Lochlainn had never believed in love at first sight until he had seen this tiny nymph staring at him with her incredible amethyst eyes the day before, when he had greeted his employer and his new bride off of the boat from Liverpool straight from their honeymoon in Scotland and England.
Quite tall for a woman, though tiny in comparison with himself, Muireann Graham Caldwell had moved down the gangplank like a queen, her head held high, her limpid eyes moving neither to the right nor the left, until they had lighted on his face, and had seemed to look into the very depths of his soul. She had taken his hand in greeting, and shock tremors had seemed to pass up his arm, until Lochlainn berated himself for being so fanciful.
Now here she was, a widow, no doubt heir to the Caldwell estate, but probably completely unaware of the dire financial straits her husband Augustine had been in before he died. But surely Muireann must have married him for love. After all, how could she not have known about all of his faults? Perhaps she was just as vain, frivolous, and addicted to gambling as Augustine had been. If so, the Lord help them all. He now stared at the lovely face resting on the pillow with a certain degree of resentment.
If Muireann had been fool enough to have loved Augustine, she deserved whatever happened to her, he thought spitefully. He leapt from the chair impatiently and began to pace up and down in front of the window, until at last he stilled to watch the sun set over the rooftops of the city.
Damn it, how could a woman like Muireann, so lovely, so gracious, have married an idle, worthless, drunken lout like Augustine Caldwell? And what would she do with his beloved Barnakilla now?
CALL HOME THE HEART-buy the paperback!
buy the ebook Buy the Rocketbook! $6
Reviews:
Completely enthralling from the first sentence. I adore the hero, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. This is one happy ever after ending worth waiting for! - Jacinta Carey
This book has everything we have come to expect from a MacMurrough novel: rousing charcters and situations, elegantly described settings, and a true grasp of the historical periods she writes about. The heroine is her best ever, and that is saying something! And the hero Lochlainn is simply to die for! I couldn’t put it down! - Evelyn Trimborn, Heedless Hearts
Another stunning achievement from this fabulous author. Deeply moving, full of action and adventure, this is one historical novel of Ireland you will not want to miss! - Carolyn Stone, author of In From the Cold
CALL HOME THE HEART-buy the paperback!
buy the ebook Buy the Rocketbook! $6
Free Readers' Group Guide-click here
If you enjoyed this page, tell your friends: e womp it!
