Dorothy Eden (18 page)

Katharine made a movement to tear the sheet of paper up, but he snatched it from her. “If you do that, I’ll only write another.”

“Willie, you can’t do this!”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be a terrible mistake. Are you going to make not only yourself and me and Mr. Parnell, but the whole Irish party a laughing stock?”

“To hell with the Irish party. I’m only interested in my rights. What’s mine is mine, and that refers to you.”

“Does it?” said Katharine slowly. “Perhaps it also refers to Aunt Ben’s money, and the house she so kindly bought for your family. What are you going to do without those things? Support us on your earnings?”

His face had gone a dark red.

“That about fixes it, Kate. This letter goes.”

She knew she had gone too far. It was only Willie who made her lose her temper like this. He always had done. She had come meaning to plead and humble herself to him, and instead had insulted him.

“Oh, post your silly letter,” she cried, tears of rage filling her eyes. “Indulge in your crazy melodrama. But don’t expect ever to set foot in my house again. And it is mine, remember.”

She had no idea where Charles was staying. She drove to the Keppel Street hotel to make enquiries, but got such an insolent suggestive look from the man behind the desk that she did not dare go elsewhere. Her very anxiety for his welfare was going to do him harm. He was not in the House of Commons, either. She could do nothing but go home and face a sleepless night.

The scent of roses drifted through her open window, and for the first time since this dreadful comedy had begun she thought of her unborn baby. God protect it, she thought despairingly.

There was no news at all for two days. Forty-eight endless hours. She read to Aunt Ben in the mornings, apparently making sense, for the old lady made no complaint. She gave the servants orders, talked to the children and tucked them up at night, attended to correspondence, paced up and down the garden until it was too dark to see, and waited. She was both hopeful and fearful that Charles would come.

It was Willie who came at last, accompanied by that great white-bearded dissolute old man, The O’Gorman Mahon.

“The fellow’s a coward,” Willie flung out at Katharine.

“Why?” She scarcely dared to ask.

“He’s ignored my letter. I’ve sent him another.”

“Perhaps he isn’t in England.”

“Oh, yes, he is, I’ve made enquiries. He’s been in Liverpool and now is back in London. Mahon saw him. I’ve written telling him I find he hasn’t gone abroad as I requested.”

“But neither have you,” said Katharine, as reasonably as possible.

“Don’t be a fool. Am I going to cool my heels in France waiting for someone who doesn’t come?”

The O’Gorman Mahon, whose twinkling impertinent black eyes had never left Katharine, suddenly gave a roar of laughter.

“I’m thinking you took my advice too seriously, Mrs. O’Shea.”

“What advice?”

“I told you to be kind to Parnell, but I didn’t expect you to take him quite so much to your heart. Not that I’m entirely blaming the poor fellow if you look at him with those fine sparkling eyes that would melt an iceberg.”

“May I give you some advice, Mr. Mahon?”

“By all means. I’ll be glad to hear it.”

“Just don’t step over the threshold of my house. It is mine, as my husband may possibly have told you.”

Willie went white with rage, but The O’Gorman Mahon threw back his great shaggy head and gave his tempestuous roar of laughter.

“Well, Willie, me boy, we’d better adjourn to the nearest public house and drown our sorrows.”

Much later Willie came back alone. He was a little drunk and had lost a lot of his bravado.

“You’re cruel to me, Kate. Cuckolding me, and showing me up in front of my friends.”

If she had not had to fight so fiercely for Charles she might have relented a little. She didn’t dare to. She asked coldly if he meant to go on with his intention to fight a duel.

“If Parnell is man enough to face me. But he’s not. He’s gone into hiding, the coward.”

“Perhaps he is just treating your threats with the contempt they deserve.”

“The story will get around. It won’t do him any good.”

“Nor you.”

Willie looked at her with bleary incredulous eyes.

“I believe you think you’re the only one who is lily white.”

The next development was entirely unexpected. Anna arrived. She had driven down from London and she was very excited, anticipating a drama.

“Kate, what on earth have you and Willie been up to. Charles Parnell came to my house in a dreadful state. He says Willie is making the most absurd threats.”

Willie started up. “Why hasn’t the fellow answered her letter? Did he tell you that?”

“He says he only got it today. That’s why he hadn’t answered it.”

“Of course,” Katharine cried in relief. “You know how he is with mail, Willie. That’s why he had most of his directed here. He never opens letters.”

“This one was marked urgent and important. I don’t see how he could have missed it.”

“Well, he obviously did. He says there’s some misunderstanding about a portmanteau he left here, and that you want to fight a duel. Really, I don’t understand.” Anna’s wide shocked eyes went from Katharine to Willie. “It can’t be because—”

“No, it’s not,” Katharine said harshly. “Willie is only absurdly suspicious because he found the portmanteau. He thinks Mr. Parnell has been coming here frequently in his absence. He’s quite wrong, although I do see him occasionally. As you very well know, Anna.”

“Did Parnell tell you to come as a mediator or something?” Willie asked Anna scathingly.

“He didn’t ask me to come at all. My own curiosity brought me. Really, Willie! The notion is fantastic. Can’t you talk him out of it, Kate?”

Katharine sat down wearily. “You try, Anna.”

Anna was still trying when Jane came in breathlessly, sensing excitement.

“Mr. Parnell is here, ma’am. And before Katharine could ask that he be shown in, he was there himself, in the doorway, his grave gaze going from Katharine to Willie. He was not in the dreadful state Anna had described. She must have exaggerated as usual, for he stood there completely self-possessed, instantly dominating the room. In a quiet voice he apologised for his unexpected arrival, but this challenge of Captain O’Shea’s, which he regarded as quite preposterous, had better be settled as quickly as possible.

“I must be back for a division which should take place about ten,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll permit this, Captain O’Shea, before risking my life.” His voice was quietly ironic, and Willie lifted his chin belligerently. “I’m quite prepared to go abroad and give you satisfaction at any time you like to fix after tomorrow. I simply can’t walk out of the House at this stage of the debate. But it’s anticipated it will be finished by tomorrow evening. And, if I may add, I’d be glad of your attendance at the division this evening. We need all the votes we can get.”

“You can’t get away with that, trying to cloud the issue with politics.” The drink Willie had taken had left him baffled and uncertain. It had been all very well to bluster and rage in private, but now faced with his opponent, and his leader, this cool polished man with his unshakable self-possession, he seemed a little surprised at his own temerity. “I don’t care a damn for politics at this moment. I only care about my wife.”

“If you cared for her, I don’t think you’d subject her to this distress. Mrs. O’Shea, how can I tell you how sorry I am? This is all due to my carelessness in leaving my portmanteau behind. I hadn’t even missed it. It only contains papers I haven’t needed to refer to. But I’ll remove it at once if that will undo some of the damage.”

“You can’t deny this,” Willie insisted. “It’s all over town that you’re seeing my wife. The portmanteau’s only final proof.”

“Willie, Willie!” Katharine begged.

Charles said in his controlled voice, “I’m sorry it’s all over town, but I do acknowledge that it’s true. I have been seeing Mrs. O’Shea and I hope to see her again frequently. We must have a medium of communication with the Government, and as you know, she kindly undertook this office. Her first interview with Gladstone was highly successful. Shortly I want to brief her on matters she must discuss with him in a second interview. I trust—if we both survive the duel, of course,” his eyes flickered sardonically, “that you will have no objection to my continuing to see her, Captain O’Shea. Not at Eltham if you prefer it, but at least at meeting places in London. If we’re seen and our meetings misunderstood, then can’t you look on it as a sacrifice you make for your country?”

“A bloody sacrifice!” Willie exclaimed incredulously.

A look of cold calculated ruthlessness, that gave Katharine a twinge of fear, came to Charles’ face.

“I’m not interested in anyone in my party who isn’t capable of sacrifice.”

“But my own wife! You want me to believe that all this talk’s got about because you’re doing nothing but talking politics to her!” His baffled eyes stared at the cold implacable face opposite him. “I almost do, God forgive me,” he said. “You’re a cold devil, Charlie Parnell, and that’s the truth.”

“I have a job to do.”

“You make it sound like a religion!”

“Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is.” Suddenly he looked intensely weary. “May I sit down, Mrs. O’Shea?”

“Oh, do, please. Willie—”

Anna interrupted by saying forcibly, “Well, I do think you two men are the limit, using Kate like this. Running errands for the Irish party, pulled this way and that. If this is politics, thank goodness my husband isn’t in them.”

Katharine poured some brandy into a glass and gave it to Charles. Her hand was trembling. She had a moment, with her back to the others, to give him a quick anxious loving look. There was an answering gleam in his eyes. But he suddenly looked so gaunt and strained as if his last ounce of energy had gone into carrying off this scene successfully.

However, when he had swallowed the brandy he was able to say with a flash of humour, “I long ago decided to give my life to Ireland, but I hadn’t exactly visualised doing it in this way, being run through with a sword on a beach in France.” He put down his glass, and leaned forward with urgent seriousness.

“Can we keep this little matter between these four walls? If we go on with it, it won’t only be mine or your death, Captain O’Shea, but the death of the present Irish party. And that would be a great pity. We’ve gone a long way. We’ve got a long way still to go.”

“For goodness sake, shake hands,” Anna implored. “You’re both behaving like schoolboys.”

“Please, Willie,” whispered Katherine, her hand on his shoulder.

Willie looked at her, his eyes beginning to smoulder. Just for a moment she thought she was going to faint. She knew what that look meant. A wave of bitter resentment swept over her. Why couldn’t Charles have stood up and shouted that she was his lover, and they were prepared to tell the whole world? But no, Ireland must be saved, that dark old hag who was insatiable in her demand for sacrifices.

So Katharine must go to bed with her husband tonight, and give the Old Woman another sacrifice.

“But don’t expect to be welcomed here any more,” Willie was saying. “Keep your assignations in another place. And for heaven’s sake, don’t get talked about. I’ve been made enough of a fool as it is.”

Then, as always, Katharine’s resentment changed to relief and love and heartbreak. For Charles, standing up and holding out his hand to her, for he must leave, had an expression of such tormented sadness that she knew he had been aware of all her thoughts, and that he sympathised intensely with them and could do nothing at all about them.

At least she was spared the humiliating necessity of seducing Willie into making love to her, for the agonising afternoon had left him with only one overwhelming desire, to prove to himself and to her without doubt that she was still his wife.

Afterwards, when he lay heavily asleep, she crept out of bed and went to the bathroom feeling so sick that she could scarcely hold her head up.

But it was done, and now she would allow nothing to spoil her pleasure in looking forward to her baby. She could be ruthless, too.

Only one thought nagged at her. If Charles had known about the baby, would he have behaved differently?

She was glad he hadn’t been put to such an agonising decision.

Kitty O’Shea! The words echoed in her ringing head. She stared at her haggard face in the mirror. Kitty O’Shea, adulteress!

T
HEY HAD LEFT THE
hansom cab on the corner by the Mortlake brewery, telling the driver to wait, and had walked down to the path beside the river. Katharine had chosen to do this rather than to sit in some depressing hotel, nervous as to who was listening over their shoulders. But it had begun to rain, and it wasn’t such a good idea after all being out of doors. Charles held his umbrella over them both, keeping them reasonably dry, but all the same Katharine’s skirts dragged in the wet grass, and the river was pewter grey and chilly.

Charles suggested going back to the cab, but she refused. First they must talk. She didn’t mind the rain. Everything smelt fresh and sweet. She couldn’t breathe inside a closed cab.

“Aren’t you well, darling? I believe you are looking pale.”

“What do you expect? It’s been terrible.”

“But surely you didn’t think Willie intended to carry out his absurd threat?”

“With that horrible old fireater, The O’Gorman Mahon, urging him on? Certainly he would have.”

“Then supposing he had. I believe you underestimate me. I may even have won. I’m a good swordsman, and an excellent shot.”

She turned on him vehemently. “Charles, don’t joke! It’s all too dreadful to think of.”

His face became sober, his voice concerned. “What is it, my darling? That little bit of bad opera is over. What are you still worrying about? I don’t intend to give up seeing you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Nothing in the world will make me do that. We’ll manage somehow.”

“Charles, I’m expecting your child.”

He stopped dead and stared at her. The stillness of his face frightened her. She had quickly to reassure him.