An Embarrassment of Riches (50 page)

He didn't turn his head towards her and her apprehension deepened. Then he began to chuckle.

‘Lord, but my mother must be turning in her grave. An Irish nurse it is then. You don't have Kieron Sullivan in mind to replace Haines, do you?'

She laughed, giddy with relief. ‘No, Kieron's happy enough where he is.'

He looked across at her as they cantered side by side, flashing her a dazzling, down-slanting smile. ‘I'm glad to hear it. You don't mind if I make sure that Haines's replacement is English and not Irish, do you? The English make by far the best butlers.'

Happiness made her lenient. ‘Don't dismiss him, just speak to him about his manner towards me.'

‘I will.'

Her smile met his. Tarna could be seen white-pillared in the distance, the meadows around it thick with grazing horses and foals. The sun was high in the sky. Felix was waiting for them, sleeping safely in his crib.

‘Thank you, God,' she whispered beneath her breath, her eyes shining as she spurred Halcyon Dream into a headlong gallop.

As she streaked towards the house Alexander raced at her side. No woman he knew could have ridden in the same reckless manner. No woman he had ever known had so shared his own inborn love of horses. In Maura he not only had a wife and a lover, he had a friend as well. The revelation was so amazing that he whooped in exultation, galloping down towards Tarna for all the world like an Apache Indian.

Their return to New York was completely different from any previous return. Invitations had arrived from various Schermerhorn ladies inviting Maura to call on them. Charlie's mother had invited her to a Ladies Evening she was holding, while Henry's spinster sister had invited her to a concert to be held in her home for the edification of friends and family. There was even a supper invitation for both of them from the Van Rensselaers.

Within minutes of entering the house Alexander had summoned Haines to his study. The Haines who emerged was one crushingly chastened. Maura allowed not the merest hint of satisfaction to show and within days Haines's deference towards her was respectful enough to have altered the attitude of all other members of staff.

The nurse had next been summoned into Alexander's presence. Alexander had paid her handsomely and summarily dismissed her. He had then suggested to Maura that not only one O'Farrell girl be engaged as a nurse, but that if they were willing, both of them should be employed to care for Felix.

Maura had been euphoric.

On her next carriage ride he had very publicly accompanied her, forcing the occupants of other resplendent carriages to reluctantly acknowledge her.

He had refused to meet with Kieron, whom he regarded as an Irish trouble-maker New York would be better off without, but he had ordered builders into the O'Farrells'tenement with instructions to insert many more windows and to provide adequate sanitation facilities. He had requested that a report be drawn up on the improvements needed overall to his properties and he had arranged for Rosie O'Hara to be admitted into a sanatorium.

Maura's joy at the way Alexander was trying hard to change his attitudes and overcome his prejudices was increased tenfold with the discovery that she was pregnant again.

Charlie promised adamantly that this time he would be in attendance as a godfather and Henry insisted that the baby be christened in the Schermerhorn private chapel, with a full complement of Schermerhorns in attendance.

The only dispiriting news was from the battlefields. The slow, remorseless grind of siege warfare continued day after day, month after month, around Petersburg and Richmond. In late summer General Lee ordered fifteen thousand Southerners across the Potomac into Maryland. In little more than a week they were at the gates of Washington. Troops from General Grant's army around Petersburg were rushed back to hold the city and the Rebels withdrew back into the Shenandoah Valley, putting property to the torch as they did so.

‘Grant's now ordered the whole of the valley to be laid waste,' Charlie said somewhat admiringly. ‘He doesn't want Lee's army to be able to feed in it.'

‘You mean he's burning crops?' Maura asked, aghast.

‘Apparently the orders he has given are such that crows flying over the Shenandoah will have to carry their provender with them,' Henry said, sharing her distaste. ‘It's called total war, my dear. And the sooner it comes to an end, the better.'

The heat in New York through August and September was nearly unbearable, but Alexander endured it without a murmur, knowing that he was making great strides forward in gaining social acceptance for Maura.

The vast majority of New York's
haut ton
had fled to their country houses on the banks of the Hudson or Long Island Sound. The few that remained were not under as great a social pressure from their peers as normal. When it became known that the Schermerhorn ladies were extending invitations to the bizarre Mrs Alexander Karolyis, other invitations began to be received.

Most of them were initially sent out of curiosity. Would the Irish Mrs Karolyis wear shoes on her feet? Would she be able to eat with a knife and fork? Would her speech be understandable?

Alexander savoured their stunned amazement on meeting Maura with relish. Henry's sister pronounced her quite charming. Charlie's mother declared her to be wonderfully refined. The battle was being won, albeit slowly. Since he had squashed all rumours as to the probable illegality of his marriage, he had been barred from no clubs. The sprinkling of his fellows still remaining in the city had other things on their minds, namely the stale-mate between Union and Confederate forces and the reprehensible pushiness of the up and coming
nouveaux riches.

Alexander was more than happy with the city's reduced social circle. By the time the Old Guard returned
en masse
, Maura would have achieved a toe-hold of social acceptance that would quickly spread. Ariadne had retreated in stony silence to the Brevoort country home on Long Island, where he fervently hoped she would remain. Life was good and, apart from the war, trouble-free. It wasn't to remain so.

‘You tell Mr Karolyis who I am, then he'll see me!' a high-pitched female voice shouted as a footman closed the door in her face.

Alexander and Maura were returning by carriage from lunch at Delmonico's with Henry. At the sight of the fracas taking place on his doorstep Alexander frowned in impatience.

‘Why the devil was she let through the gates?' he demanded, more to himself than Maura.

‘Perhaps she's looking for work,' Maura said placatingly, looking forward to a cup of tea and a rest. She didn't feel as well in this pregnancy as she had done with Felix and even short journeys tired her.

‘Then she should be at the servants'entrance, asking to see the housekeeper.'

As their carriage rolled towards the foot of the sweeping stone steps the girl turned, her face lighting up with relief.

She began to hurry down the stone lion-flanked steps towards them and Alexander said curtly to one of the postilions, ‘See she is removed from the courtyard, please.'

The postilion hurried up the steps towards her but she deftly evaded him, running breathlessly down the remaining steps and towards Alexander.

‘Mr Karolyis! Mr Karolyis, sir! Could I have a word with you, please?'

Close to, the girl was reasonably well dressed. She wore an ankle-length, brown-cloth coat and well-cared-for boots. Her appearance was that of a house-maid or ladies-maid and what had possessed her to try and enter the Karolyis mansion by the main entrance, thereby immediately antagonizing the footmen, Maura couldn't imagine.

‘If you are seeking employment you would be advised to knock at the servants'entrance and ask for the housekeeper,' Alexander said curtly, looking forward to a refreshing bathe and change of clothes.

‘I'm not here about a job, sir. I need to speak to you about something personal, sir. About something very important.'

Alexander sighed. The girl looked rational enough, but obviously wasn't. He turned to the harassed postilion saying, with as much patience as he could muster, ‘Please escort this young woman into the street.'

The postilion seized hold of her arm and the girl's eyes blazed as she tried to wrench it free. ‘You'll want to listen to what I have to say when you know who I am, sir!'

Alexander was walking towards the foot of the steps, his hand beneath Maura's arm. Despite the urgency in the girl's voice he kept on walking.

‘Perhaps you should speak to her,' Maura suggested, distressed by the girl's fierce determination.

He shook his head. ‘She doesn't look as if she needs a hand-out.' He grinned suddenly. ‘And she's not Irish. I thought my charitable responsibilities lay with your fellow countrymen?'

Maura was about to laughingly chide him when the girl shouted out, ‘I used to be Miss Genevre's maid, sir! I travelled with her back to England!'

Alexander froze. For a long, disbelieving moment he didn't move a muscle and then, letting go of Maura's arm, he slowly turned, looking down the steps to the still captive girl.

‘Let go of her,' he said tersely to the postilion.

The postilion did so with relief.

The girl rubbed her arm. ‘Will you speak to me now, sir? I've something to tell you. Something that's going to interest you very much indeed.'

Alexander stared at her. He didn't remotely remember her, but there was no earthly reason why he should.

At the fracas a cluster of footmen had appeared at the main entrance. Alexander turned his head towards them. ‘Have this young woman escorted to my study, please.'

The girl walked triumphantly towards the steps and began to mount them. As she came abreast of Maura she gave her a quick look, full of hungry curiosity.

For the first time apprehension struck Maura. There was something gloating in the girl's glance. Something unpleasantly prurient.

‘I won't be long, love,' Alexander said to her, but his eyes weren't on her. They were on the girl as she was escorted into the house. And his face was no longer good-humoured and laughing. It was tense and strained, his eyes filled with an expression of such remembered grief that her apprehension soared and she was filled with sudden, sick dread.

He was gone for a long time. She bathed and changed and went down to the Chinese drawing-room and sat at her embroidery frame. The needle remained motionless in her hand. What on earth was taking so long? What was the young woman telling Alexander? Why was she feeling so idiotically apprehensive? She had known right from the beginning of their life together that Alexander had been in love with Genevre Hudson and that if she had lived he would have married her. His grief over Genevre's death had been one of the things that had bound them together. She had wanted to ease his pain; to bring him comfort. And she wasn't so ungenerous as to resent him reacting with a surge of old grief when Genevre was brought back to his memory as suddenly and brutally as had just occurred.

She tried again to concentrate on her embroidery. They were dining with Henry that evening. He had bought a stud-farm in up-state New York and Kieron was going to manage it for him. She wanted to know all about it. She wanted to know if he would be buying any Tarna-bred stallions and mares. She wanted to know when Kieron would be leaving New York. She wanted to know how soon it would be before she and Alexander could visit.

The French clock on the marble mantelpiece struck the half-hour. She forgot all about the stud-farm. What on earth was going on in Alexander's study? He and Genevre had been parted for less than a year when she had died. Her maid couldn't have so much to tell him surely? Had she left the house long ago and was Alexander so overcome with old grief and remembered love that he was unable to face anyone, even herself?

She put her needle back into the sewing-box and rose to her feet. She would go and ask a footman if Genevre's maid had left the house.

Before she could do so the footmen on the outside of the Chinese drawing-room doors flung them open and Alexander entered. She gave a little cry of relief and began to run towards him. Then she stopped. He looked terrible, like a man in the grip of a fever.

‘Alexander! What is it? What is the matter?'

He stood still, making no effort to close the gap between them.

‘There's a child,' he said in a voice so hoarse she scarcely recognized it. ‘A boy.'

For the first time in her life Maura nearly fainted. ‘A
child
?' she repeated after him incredulously. ‘
Your
child?'

As soon as she said the words she knew they were ridiculous. Of course it was his child. Genevre Hudson hadn't been a woman of the streets. She had been well brought up and carefully reared. And although she had not even been formally engaged to Alexander she had become his lover. Never once had it occurred to her that Alexander and Genevre had been intimate. Never once had Alexander even hinted at such a thing. Even though he was now telling her so she could scarcely believe it. And there was a
child?
Was that how Genevre had died? In giving birth to an illegitimate child?

Alexander didn't even notice the crassness of her reaction. He ran his hand through his hair, saying dazedly, ‘The maid travelled to Europe with them. They went immediately to a convent in the south of England and left Genevre there. Then William Hudson travelled on to Yorkshire taking the maid with him and changing her employment from that of a ladies-maid to that of a parlour-maid. Ginnie never went to Italy with an aunt.' His face was chalk-white. ‘She never went anywhere but the convent. And she died there.'

‘Oh God!' Maura whispered, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth. ‘Oh, the poor girl!'

His eyes burned hers. ‘And I have a
son
, Maura! A son by Genevre!'

He shook his head as if unable to believe the stupendousness of it.