Dorothy Eden (23 page)

He wrote to Katharine saying he would be back in England on May 4th. Could she be in the House of Commons that afternoon? He was only going to Avondale for a day or two to lose some of his prison pallor and present a respectable appearance in the House. He was taking his favourite dog, the Irish setter, Grouse, and going up to Auvghanagh for a day’s shooting. The peace of those lonely hills would restore him, he would come back to her a new man.

It was a full House that afternoon. Katharine, on taking her seat in the Ladies’ Gallery, could see everyone but the one person who mattered. Willie sat with the Irish members, the Prime Minister on the front bench was engaged in a whispered conversation with Mr. Chamberlain. Sir Charles Dilke on the bench behind, was interposing his brown beard between them. Mr. Forster, the chagrined Irish secretary, was on his feet making a melancholy speech. He had just got to the words: “There are two warrants which I signed in regard to the member for the city of Cork—” when, with no intention of choosing such a dramatic moment, Mr. Parnell walked in.

As one man the Irish members rose and cheered wildly. A moment later the rest of the House followed suit. The ovation went on thunderously while the member for Cork bowed to the Speaker and then, with head erect, composed as always, walked to his place. The unfortunate Mr. Forster’s concluding sentence was drowned. He sat down, and shortly afterwards left the House.

Katharine’s throat ached. The tears were slipping down her cheeks beneath her veil. She was thankful she wore a veil to hide her intense emotion. She felt so many things, pride, love, loyalty, anxiety for his pallor unbanished by the soft air of the Wicklow Hills, and the unbearably sad knowledge that this man could never belong only to her. She had known that for long enough, but the wild cheering of a moment ago had confirmed it beyond any possible doubt. If she was to love him well, she must allow him to be completely free, never placing impossible demands on him, never failing him when he needed her. She would need to be a saint, she thought. And the world, perhaps her children, too, would call her a whore.

Someone slid into the seat beside her. She blinked back her tears as Willie’s voice whispered, “I saw you up here. You’re looking very fetching.”

She was wearing the first new clothes she had bought since being pregnant. Aunt Ben had said she had grown deplorably shabby, and had insisted on her being outfitted from head to toe. She had chosen a soft blue for her jacket and skirt, and a hat trimmed with cornflowers and yards of veiling. She had been thinking of only one pair of eyes admiring her. She wanted to remove the image of the last time he had seen her, weeping and distraught after the baby’s death.

But here was Willie inquisitively staring at her damp cheeks.

“I’ve come to take you down to tea.”

“But the debate—”

He had risen, and she had to follow him.

“The jailbirds will take care of that,” he said, as they left the gallery.

There was a faint insolence, a barely concealed contempt in his voice. She realised, suddenly, that although he had worked so hard on the treaty that had achieved the prisoners’ release, he would just as soon have them still locked up. His efforts had been on his own behalf, not on theirs. Captain O’Shea, the member for County Clare, who had worked so assiduously with the Prime Minister and Mr. Chamberlain. Was he a likely fellow for a future post, such as Chief Secretary for Ireland?

She had always known this, of course. But it had never been so obvious as it now seemed to her, following his impeccably tailored figure down the stairs. What did he care for the hungry, the poverty-stricken, the sick, the homeless, so long as he advanced his own career, so long as he was the debonair witty member of the Irish party, the one who knew how to dress and how to behave. He would give lip service to the leader just so long as he remained powerful and could suitably further Captain O’Shea’s own career.

Katharine’s tears had dried. Her mouth had tightened. She knew exactly what her own plans were, too.

“Well, what do you think of him?” Willie said, over tea.

“Him?”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid. You know I mean Parnell.”

“I thought he didn’t look well.”

“He never looks robust. And I don’t suppose six months in jail agrees with the strongest constitution.”

“No, I’m sure it doesn’t. That’s why I intend taking him down to Eltham tonight. He needs fresh air and quiet.”

Willie’s blue eyes stared at her.

“You can’t tonight. I won’t be home.”

“That’s a pity. Have you an unbreakable engagement?”

“Absolutely. Chamberlain and Dilke and I are dining.”

“Then I shall have to entertain Mr. Parnell alone,” Katharine said serenely.

“I forbid this!” Willie exploded. But he remembered to keep his voice low. The good-mannered Captain O’Shea must not be seen quarrelling with his wife. “Do you want to start up that old scandal again?”

“It was you who started the scandal with your ridiculous behaviour. Anyway, that’s a minor consideration compared with Mr. Parnell’s health. I intend to make it my business from now on to look after it. If people talk, let them. I’ve never cared about gossip. One should be above it.” She returned Willie’s stare with a level serene one. “If you don’t like this, you must make an effort to be home more often.”

“B’gad, Kate, what are you doing?”

“You heard the cheers in there a little while ago. Do you hear them often? No. Only for great men. And great men should be cherished. I intend to do something about it, that’s all.”

Willie looked round quickly, then leaned closer, his face an angry red.

“I believe you have got a bee in your bonnet about this fellow after all.”

“I always have had the greatest admiration and liking for him. But never mind that. I’m only telling you that I intend to invite whom I please to my own house, and that you can’t stop me.”

“The servants will talk. What about the children? You’re mad, Kate. This is a most damnably quixotic thing to do. If Parnell accepts, I hope he’s properly grateful.”

“Who wants gratitude? I only want—” Katharine stopped, seeing the look that had come into Willie’s face, an intensely thoughtful evasive look that indicated the springing to life of some scheme in his mind.

With a complete turnabout he said, “I believe I begin to understand you. You want to have your own share in political life. I must say you have the brain for it. It’s not entirely feminine, but you’re a curious creature, aren’t you, my Kate? Well, for heaven’s sake, be circumspect. Cosset him, if you must, but don’t let the servants gossip.” He leaned forward, whispering, “And if he dares to lay a finger on you I give you fair warning I’ll have his name blackened. I’ll have every priest in Ireland against him. He’ll no longer be riding the crest of the wave as he is at present. But while he is—” Willie suddenly looked bland, “—I believe you may have the right idea, we may as well ride with him.”

She drew away, trying not to shudder.

It was so easy to read his clever superficial mind. He had suddenly seen how this friendship, so nearly approaching the scandalous, could be turned to his own benefit. Not immediately, perhaps, but when it was necessary. This situation, much more than conspiring to bring about Parnell’s release from Kilmainham Jail, might entitle Willie to large rewards. But it must be kept quiet, decent, decorous. Anyway, he was sure Kate was only suffering from a case of hero worship and a little desire for some limelight herself. With her upbringing and her sense of morals she couldn’t possibly be promiscuous. Besides, like every other fastidious woman, she didn’t care for sex. And hadn’t she just suffered the loss of a child? She wouldn’t be in the mood for that sort of thing for a long time, even from him.

But perhaps Willie with his private scheming was no worse than her. She was completely false. And for the very best cause in the world. She was almost in danger of thinking her falseness a virtue. At least, she was able to feel extremely happy and quite guiltless about it.

A
LTHOUGH IT WAS MAY
it was chilly enough for a fire. They had had dinner, just the two of them, with Jane waiting on the table and a delighted Ellen putting her head round the door to see if her beloved Mr. Parnell had enjoyed the roast lamb, and one of her best apple pies. He’d have had nothing like that in jail, the poor soul, and him looking as if he needed feeding up for a long time to come.

Katharine had had a talk to the servants before dinner, Jane Leinster, Ellen Murphy, the new governess. Miss Coombe who had taken Miss Glennister’s place, and Partridge, the coachman who had driven Charles and her from Blackheath station.

Mr. Parnell would be coming down as frequently as he was able. Between campaigning in Ireland and attending sessions in the House he would need all the rest and quiet he could get. She hoped that the servants would co-operate in this and that she could count on their loyalty. It was important that his visits should not be talked about, as not only could they be misconstrued, but he could also be besieged by unwelcome callers. So would everyone promise to be as secret as she and Captain O’Shea intended to be?

They promised readily, though Jane looked at her feet and Partridge wanted to know if the master minded his horses being used for the frequent trips to railway stations.

“Certainly not,” Katharine said firmly. “Mr. Parnell likes to ride, too. You might saddle up Pilot for him in the morning. That will be all now, and thank you.”

There were two other things that could not be achieved so quickly. She intended to give the gardener orders to let the privet hedge in front of the house grow a foot taller so that curious passers-by could not stare in. She also intended to have a room built on next to the conservatory so that Charles could have complete privacy in his comings and goings. It could be a study sitting room. She would use it herself when he was not there. It would be a little home within a home, a place where she could dream that she was his wife and no other man’s.

She was making her own laws, she thought, with quiet triumph. The world could say what it would.

After dinner she sat in her favourite position, on the hearthrug, with her head against Charles’ knee. She could feel his fingers entwined in her hair. If she moved they tightened, as if he were afraid she would leave him. From the moment he had joined her at Charing Cross station he had not been able to bear her out of his sight.

“Stay with me. I can’t stand being alone,” he said. “In prison I had a couple of warders sleeping at my door. I was glad of their company, I confess.”

“Have you been having nightmares, darling?”

“Sometimes. I won’t if you’re with me. But we’ll have to be careful, if I’m to stay here.”

“I know. I told you what I said to Willie.”

The face above her was cruelly thin and pale. It had not yet thrown off the shadow of recent events. She knew that her own, too, had changed. They might be gay in the future, they might have times of great happiness, but their faces would remain marked, for the rest of their lives, with the strain and suffering of the last months.

“Willie is the cross we must bear. But we must avoid other crosses, if we can. We’ll have to go on being careful about not being seen together. I feel safe here. Isn’t that curious? These four walls are a haven. But outside, in the street, in hotels—” he brooded for a moment, his face full of loneliness, “—we’ll have to be careful, Kate.”

“But do you approve of my plan?”

He put his lips against her hair.

“I don’t believe I could go on without it. And I have to go on,” he added tiredly. “I’m committed. That’s the word they use for sending someone to prison. Well, I’m committed to my own prison. But it’ll end one day, never fear.”

“How far off is that day?”

“Well, closer since the last six months. The Government’s feeling somewhat shamefaced, and that’s the time to press home our advantage. I believe we’ll have the first Home Rule bill drafted before long.”

“I cried with pride when they applauded you today.”

“Oh, that. Don’t trust it too much.” He lifted her face. “I want no applause but yours, my Katie.” And then, “Am I to have my old room?”

“No. Because of the servants, and anyway it’s much too small for a permanent room for you.” She saw his disappointment, and laughed softly. “The one you are to have has a door that leads through that little dressing room.”

All the lethargy had gone from his face.

“Can we go up? Must we wait any longer?”

In the still dark early hours of the morning he said, “Does Willie know?”

“About this? Oh,
no
!”

“I won’t share you.”

“My darling, you don’t have to!”

“Supposing there’s another baby.”

Katharine’s arms tightened round him. She had the most intense obsessive desire to protect him and shield him.

“I will manage Willie.”

“How?”

“I’ll find a way,” she said stubbornly.

He sighed, relaxing against her.

“I believe you will.” Presently he murmured, “I would like you to have another child. I watched your face as you sat with little Sophie. It nearly broke my heart.”

“The next one will live.”

“But I can’t have you go through that awful deception again.”

“I told you I would manage Willie.”

“He’ll have his price.”

“I know. Will you be prepared to pay it?”

“I’ll have to. Because without you I’d die.”

The bleak words struck a chill in her heart. She was so afraid that they were true. The responsibility put upon her shoulders was suddenly alarming. Yet she accepted it readily, with a feeling of exaltation. This, she thought soberly, was her destiny.

Night fears disappeared in the morning sunlight. They breakfasted together, Jane waiting on the table, and stealing furtive glances at the gentleman guest. Anyone could have listened to their conversation. It was full of optimism. Charles thought he would have time for a ride before catching his train. Katharine said that was splendid because she had asked Partridge to saddle a horse and bring it round. She wouldn’t accompany him, but later she would go with him in the carriage to the railway station. If Aunt Ben didn’t keep her too late she would come up to town this afternoon. She wanted to shop for the children, they were growing out of their clothes. If there was time she would come to the House for an hour.