
"Shall he remain, Mama?" Fortune asked.
"Of course," Jasmine answered. "Listen to me, Fortune. Maguire's Ford will be signed over to you on your wedding day. It is to be yours alone, and not your husband's. We have been over this, but I cannot make it clear enough to you. A woman who does not possess her own wealth is doomed to a life of servitude. You may want a simple and quiet life, poppet, but you will have neither if you are not your own mistress.
"In Ulster the Protesants and the Catholics have a tenuous relationship at best, but any malcontent can cause trouble easily. That is why we have isolated Maguire's Ford from the estates around it. There are both Catholics and Protestants in our village now. Each attends his own church, yet they work together in peace. That is how I want it, and how you will want it. Rory Maguire has spoken for me for twenty years now. He has kept the peace along with my cousin, Father Butler, and our Protestant minister, the Reverend Steen. You will now be responsible for seeing that the peace continues. Your husband can have no say in the affairs of Maguire's Ford, nor should you be influenced by him to make any changes. The people of Maguire's Ford coexist contentedly. It must remain that way."
Above the two women the wind filled the canvas of the great sailing ship, ruffling it with a faint booming sound. The salt spray faintly misted their lips, and the air was damp with the scent of the sea.
