Dorothy Eden (26 page)

“Just what I said. Don’t jeopardise a fortune.”

“Why? Do you think that I would then lose my husband?”

“I wasn’t suggesting that. Anyway, Willie’s religion wouldn’t allow him a divorce. Even if you became as poor as a church mouse,” Anna said flippantly, “you’d be stuck with him.”

“I wonder,” said Katharine.

The serenity she had made herself wear for Anna was not entirely assumed. Some of the time it was genuine. When she was with the little girls, when Aunt Ben and she knitted industriously and companionably, when a letter arrived with an Irish postmark, when she dreamed of the dark-eyed baby she would hold in her arms. And most of all when she thought of the relief it was to have Willie know the truth, though his visits were now twice as frequent and his early euphoric triumph had changed to a sullen vindictiveness and resentment.

For his own pride he would keep silent about the baby. But he was impatient for rewards that were slow to come. In Ireland the new hated Crimes Act was in force and no progress could be made at the present time. Everyone had to have as much patience as Katharine in her state of pregnancy.

Willie gambled, and led a rakish life, and frequently fell into a state of self-pity. He was cold but polite to Charles when Charles came, but kept the conversation to politics, and talked a great deal about what he himself had done for the Irish party. He attributed the Kilmainham Treaty entirely to himself. He plotted and planned ceaselessly. He was imagining himself very clever and powerful, with his influential friends. His conversation was studded with references to “Chamberlain and I”, or “my friends and I”.

It was a hideously difficult situation. Charles’ honourably kept to his word about not staying at Eltham unless Willie were home. He thought this wisest until the baby was safely born. Nothing must jeopardise its or Katharine’s health.

But their snatched few minutes alone were desperately unsatisfactory. Katharine knew it to be impossible to continue for long in this way. They were reduced again to meetings in small depressing hotels. That, too, could not be done for long as she grew more conspicuously pregnant and Willie objected strongly to her going anywhere except to Aunt Ben’s. She would stay at home, like a modest woman, if she could act such an unlikely part, he ordered.

The winter seemed endless. Katharine worried incessantly about Charles’ health. He had been in bed at Avondale for two weeks, with a fever, influenza he thought. His sister Fanny had nursed him. But he had never liked talking about his health. There were plenty of troubles in Ireland with the harshness of the Crimes Act giving rise to resentment and reprisals. The invisible, fast-moving, entirely unpredictable Captain Moonlight was at large again, striking here one night, a hundred miles away the next. In addition, there were the inevitable clashes among the widely diverse and inflammable members of the party itself. Sometimes, Charles said, they were more difficult to control than the peasants drunk on poteen.

His eyes, always the most striking feature of his face, now utterly dominated it, and they would haunt Katharine long after he had left with their look of sadness. It seemed as if they didn’t have one lighthearted moment during those bitter months.

Aunt Ben grumbled about Willie’s extravagance. In spite of her great age she had kept her head for money, and once a month sat at her desk with a pile of bills, examining them minutely.

“Katharine, dear, what is this item? Ten pounds, seventeen and six at Debenham and Freebody’s.”

“Gerard’s new school blazer, Aunt Ben. He had grown out of his old one. He’s getting so tall. And he needed new boots and underwear. I’m sorry, but growing boys are expensive.”

“That’s all right, dear. Be sure and bring him to see me the next time he’s home. The last time he gave me a scant half-hour and then was off. He’s a good-looking boy, but I wish he took after you more.”

“Perhaps the new baby will.”

“Perhaps. It seems wrong for children to take after their weakest parent.”

“Oh, darling aunt! I’m not a strong character.”

“Then how do I tolerate you around me? You know I can’t abide weak flabby people.”

“But morally—”

“Who was talking about morals? Boring things. Since that German princess sat on the throne of England every woman in the country has been holding her breath and walking on tiptoe. Morals! I wasn’t talking of them, Katharine. I was talking of honesty and loyalty and courage. Now what’s this item? Twelve privet bushes.”

“Oh, yes, I wanted to thicken the front hedge. It looked awfully straggly. People peer through.”

“Impertinent. Privacy is one of the human rights. I like to see you taking an interest in that ugly old house. Is there anything else you can do to improve it?”

“I did have a scheme if you didn’t think it too extravagant. You know that Mr. Parnell visits us frequently when he’s in England. He likes to work down here in peace and quiet. It would be so much more convenient if there was an extra room on the ground floor for his use. I’m sure we would get the price of it back when the house is sold. You wouldn’t be throwing money away.”

“That will be your affair, my dear, since what I have will be yours one day. If you want to spend some of it in advance, by all means do so. All I object to is an unnecessary extravagance such as your wine merchant’s bills. Four dozen bottles of champagne when a good hock would have done just as well.”

“Oh, that’s Willie, I’m afraid. He was entertaining important people.”

“I didn’t suppose it was you. You don’t need to bolster up your confidence by showing off. Nor, I imagine, does Mr. Parnell. By all means make him as comfortable as possible. It will give me pleasure to know that that’s done.”

Katharine threw her arms round the soft bundle of shawls, smelling of clean wool and lavender water.

“Dear Aunt Ben! Whatever would I do without you?”

The old lady looked at her with her blandest expression. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

I
T WAS CHRISTMAS, AND
Willie spent it at home. He was in an irritable mood. He would obviously have preferred to be with his own chosen company in London, but he was doing his duty as a father, and also perhaps seeing that Katharine didn’t have any private celebration of her own with her lover. The position was galling him extremely, but he was stubbornly pursuing the path he had decided on, no divorce but a persistent nagging for his rewards, and a slightly sadistic watchfulness so that if he were not happy neither should his wife be happy. He shared fully the inheritance of the Celts, great charm and wit overlying a melancholy that led him to drink too much, and a vengeful nature.

However, the children enjoyed the festivities. They had so far seen only the best side of their father, and Gerard admired and desired to emulate him. He would like to dress as well, to talk as well, and be as good horseman. The boy fortunately noticed nothing wrong between his parents. He was high-spirited and happy, and when the time came for him to go back to school he kissed his mother with his usual devotion. If the little girls still didn’t realise where babies came from, he did, and he told Katharine, with embarrassed tenderness, to take care of herself.

What would her nearly grown-up son think if he knew the truth?

So perhaps it was a good thing that her other visitor arrived after Gerard had gone back to school.

Charles had spent Christmas at Avondale. He had written, but he had not seen Katharine for a month. He had waited until he was sure Willie would have left Wonersh Lodge before he came.

Then, one chilly January morning, he simply strode in as if he owned the place, an Irish setter at his heels.

Katharine dismissed the servants who stood goggling at the invasion, Mr. Parnell, looking so brisk and impetuous, laying aside his heavy tweed travelling cape, and the big red dog running about snuffling at the furniture as if it, too, thought it had arrived home.

“I’ve come to wish you a happy new year.” Looking round to make sure that the servants had gone, he took Katharine in his arms. “How are you, my darling? Are you well? I’ve brought you your Christmas present.”

The colour was high in her cheeks, the day was suddenly sparkling.

“Oh, what? Tell me.”

He snapped his fingers. “Grouse! Come here.”

The dog obeyed. Charles took it by its collar and led it to Katharine.

“This is your new mistress. You’re to obey her and look after her faithfully.”

“Charles! But Grouse is your favourite dog!”

“That’s why I’m giving him to you. Now why are you crying?”

She couldn’t answer. She laid her head against his shoulder, and felt the warm tongue of the dog licking her hand. At last she said, “Only you can make me so happy.”

“And so unhappy? Well, let us concentrate on happiness in the future.”

“But won’t you miss Grouse at Avondale?”

“No, now I shall have two friends to visit here. Besides, you are often here with only women in the house. I’ll be easier in my mind if you have a good watchdog. Tell the girls to give him plenty of exercise.”

“They’ll love him.”

“Then let’s have them in and make introductions.”

It was a merry party, the happiest there had been in that house. She adored Charles when he was lighthearted and gay like this. She didn’t suppose many people other than herself and his family had seen him this way. Jane and Ellen and Miss Coombe came in, too, and Grouse amiably accepted the petting lavished on him. He always went back to lie at his master’s feet, but Charles said he would soon transfer his best allegiance to his new mistress.

“We’re having another little sister soon,” Norah had always been quite unable to keep secrets. “Will you come and see her, Mr. Parnell?”

“Certainly I will. But little sisters sometimes turn out to be little brothers, did you know that?”

“No, this one is to be a sister,” Norah maintained quite definitely. “God has told Mamma. He’s sorry for what He did to our last baby. He took her back. By mistake, I think.”

“Miss Norah!” exclaimed Ellen. “God never makes mistakes. How can you say so?”

“Well, why’s He sending her to us again?” said Norah unanswerably and Carmen added shyly, “Sophie had brown eyes. Mamma said she likes brown eyes best.”

“Whatever colour her eyes are,” said Mr. Parnell quietly, “you can count on me being among her devoted worshippers.”

And of course, after that, the baby could not help but be a girl. She was born in March and was a strong healthy child. Willie stayed away during most of the time that Katharine was confined to her bed, having the grace to display only enough interest in the new baby to allay suspicion among the servants. But they had their own ideas about the master’s lack of interest. The baby didn’t take after him at all. It was the exact image of its mother, and the master, being a bit vain, didn’t care for that. He liked his family to have his good looks. Wasn’t that men all over? Lords of the earth, they thought themselves.

But the mistress made up for the master’s negligence. She was daft about the new little one. She laughed at her chubbiness, and showed her off to everyone, most of all to Mr. Parnell, when he came. As if a great man like that, and him a bachelor, too, would want to be bothered with small babies. They had to kiss them when they were electioneering, but that was as far as their interest went.

Still, it made the house happy, with little Clare, and her nurse, a bustling apple-cheeked country-girl whom everybody liked, and of course Mr. Parnell’s dog that had made itself completely at home. The mistress didn’t seem so lonely now. She got back her looks quickly, and was in grand spirits. The shadow of little Sophie’s death had vanished at last.

Gradually, because things were quiet in Ireland, and he preferred to leave them so, Charles began to spend more time at Eltham. Willie had gone on one of his periodic trips to Madrid. He had got bored with this quiescent state and was letting the party go hang for the present. He knew that Parnell, through Katharine, was negotiating with the Prime Minister, but the negotiations must necessarily be long and slow before they came to fruition, if ever. It was generally thought that the Liberals would not be in power much longer, and when they went out the Irish party must decide whether it would be better to treat with the Conservatives, or wait patiently for their cool but fairly honest friend, Mr. Gladstone, to return to power.

It was disappointing that the life seemed to have gone out of the attack. Some of the Irish members were agitating for action, and smiling in secret glee when attempts were made to blow up public buildings in England. But their leader advised patience, and himself disappeared from the scene.

Most people could make a pretty good guess where to find him, and the name, Kitty O’Shea, was being bandied about again. Fortunately her husband hadn’t come to hear of this, although it was rumoured, too, that he would do precious little about it. He could hardly denounce the woman who was reported to be working so loyally for the party, and was even on friendly terms with the Prime Minister.

His colleagues didn’t know of the more immediate reasons of course. Plain hard cash.

Willie’s ailing sister had died. To get over this sad event, Willie went once more to Spain and Katharine had a letter from Madrid.

“If Aunt insists on your crossing the park in bad weather you will make yourself ill, Aunt very unreasonable. If she accuses me of extravagance you can truthfully tell her my sister’s illness was an immense expense. This hotel is simply ruinous and I never have anything but one-and-sixpenny wine. I must have a sitting room to transact business.”

Aunt Ben was grumbling more and more about Willie’s constant demands but, after a particularly cold and wet summer, she encouraged Katharine to take a house in Brighton for the early winter, and until after Christmas, if she wished. The children would benefit from the sea air. Carmen had been looking peaky, and Norah was growing too fast. Little Clare was as bonny as a rose but she, too, would enjoy her first trip to the seaside.

“See if you can persuade your husband to join you. It will be much cheaper than all these jaunts abroad. Besides, if he stays with the children you will be able to come up to me occasionally. I don’t suppose you want to inhale sea breezes for weeks on end.”