Dorothy Eden (3 page)

She did. One of them stood before her now. In the bright morning light she saw all too clearly the marks of dissipation on Willie’s handsome face. She saw, too, his pleading eyes, his deliberately humble smile. She knew that he was expecting to talk his way out of one more misdemeanour, one more intolerable slight. She was certain, too, that it had not been any of his countrymen who had detained him last evening. For some time she had known as surely as she could without having a detective follow him, that he was far from being a faithful husband.

She had never known him to be anything but importunate in his desires, caring little whether he was sober or drunk, or whether or not she welcomed him into her arms. Far less did he reflect on the possibility of giving her pleasure. What a dangerous idea that would be, having one’s wife actually enjoy sex. Leave that to the women whose business it was.

Willie, Katharine knew, would have regarded himself as an average husband, perhaps a little better than average since he had good looks and charm. What he did not see, at that moment, and was unlikely ever to see, was that his charm for her had vanished forever. She had tried not to think about the other women so long as none of them ever crossed her path, so long as Willie was discreet. Anna, her sister, had long ago warned her to expect this sort of thing. A wife was exceedingly lucky if her husband never strayed.

But to come to her like this straight from a woman’s arms, giving his appealing boyish smile, expecting to be forgiven for this final humiliation, wanting to kiss her! Katharine, shivering with distaste, had backed away from him, saying that from this moment their marriage was over except in name, and that if he attempted to touch her she would scream.

She knew that he would not have his wife screaming for help in that hotel where she was so well-known. His face went dark, but presently he managed to control himself, and observed that she had a perfect right to be angry. She would get over it. She had at other times. Had he behaved so much more badly this time?

No, she said wearily, it was just that she had finally grown tired of forgiveness. In future, it was a word that didn’t exist for her. And now, if he would oblige her by seeing that a cab was called, she intended returning to her children.

Willie had made one last uneasy attempt at peace before she left. “Tell the girls I’ll be down on Sunday. You might try being in a better mood by then. You can’t ditch me like this, you know. After all, I am your husband.”

Yes, he was her husband, and she was his wife. And Aunt Ben was gently telling her to find other interests, and the children, with their absurdly hopeful faces, were begging for a baby in the house. It was a situation that should have made her weep. But one couldn’t go on weeping for the rest of one’s life.

So here she was smiling and kissing the children, telling them that if God wanted there to be another baby He would send one, and that it was not a ball tonight, but a dinner party. And wondering in what style she should do her hair. And who she would put on Mr. Parnell’s other side at dinner …

I
T WAS EIGHT-THIRTY, AND
Katharine could not any longer postpone going in to dinner. She left instructions that if Mr. Parnell arrived he was to be shown in at once, and then led her guests into the small private dining room at Thomas’s Hotel.

She stubbornly kept the chair on her right hand vacant. A busy man like Mr. Parnell might have been unavoidably detained. He could very well have much more urgent business than a dinner party.

“We will forgive him,” she said gaily, “if he arrives by the time we reach the sweet.”

But the chair remained vacant. Sitting there with her head held high, the topaz brooch sparkling in the lace at her throat, Katharine found it almost beyond her ability to remain a serene and competent hostess. She was so unreasonably disappointed. And angry too, although she hoped that she concealed her anger. How dare Charles Parnell be so rude as to completely ignore her invitation!

Willie, unlike his wife, didn’t attempt to hide his offence.

“The fellow has no manners.”

The O’Gorman Mahon gave his great roar of laughter, highly amused, and Anna, Katharine’s sister, with slight maliciousness, wanted to know why Katharine imagined she would succeed when other hostesses failed.

“Perhaps he’s ill,” Katharine suggested.

“Ill, bejasus!” Mr. Mahon was even more amused. “He talked in the House from two till half-past four this afternoon. Does that sound like a sick man? Deuced eloquent he was, too. Words flowing from him like a fountain. If ever ye want to set eyes on him, Mrs. O’Shea, I expect ye’ll have to go to a session of Parliament. To be telling the truth, I’d recommend it. The man’s worth hearing. And he’s not one of your uncouth codgers, Willie, waving a blackthorn stick, even if he thinks he can dispense with the social graces.”

A visit to the Houses of Parliament was exactly what Katharine was planning, although not in the way The O’Gorman Mahon had suggested. She was developing the greatest curiosity to see this controversial man. She had gone to great pains to arrange her dinner party, inviting guests whom she thought would interest Mr. Parnell. She felt humiliated in front of them.

But her voice was smooth as she said, “I promise you I won’t disappoint you another time. Mr. Parnell will be here.”

She quietly made her plans. In the morning she did not return to Eltham, but persuaded Anna to accompany her on her errand. They hired a cab and drove to the House of Commons. There, Katharine sent in a card requesting Mr. Parnell to come out and speak to them in Palace Yard.

Anna, for once, was awed by Katharine’s audacity.

“What do you think you’re going to achieve? He’ll only hate you for exposing him like this.”

“I don’t intend to expose him,” Katharine said serenely. “I only intend to meet him.”

“He won’t come out. He’ll send an excuse.”

But he did come out. A tall spare figure, very upright, walking without haste across the cobblestones. And young. Or young for all they said he had done. He was bareheaded, his thick dark brown hair brushed smoothly, his beard neatly trimmed and glossy. His handsome aristocratic face was very pale. In contrast the eyes which he turned so directly and inquisitively on Katharine seemed almost black, though, as he came near, she saw they were a deep brown that glowed. Eloquent eyes. Her heart gave a curious flutter.

“Mrs. O’Shea?” He bowed. His voice held a question. He was not angry about being interrupted in important business. He was interested. She knew that at once.

She held out her hand. “I am Mrs. O’Shea. This is my sister, Mrs. Steele. I have called to enquire why you didn’t come to my dinner party last night. My guests were disappointed.”

“Your dinner party? Last night?” He frowned. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I knew nothing about it.”

“But didn’t you get my invitation? I sent it to Keppel Street where I was told you were staying.”

“And where no doubt it is at this moment. I must confess to a bad habit of never opening letters.”

His eyes seemed to burn as he looked into hers. There was no doubt now about his interest.

“But if you will ask me again, Mrs. O’Shea, I promise to come.”

“I believe I will hold you to that promise.”

The banal words meant nothing. They were merely polite sounds. Their instant deep awareness of one another needed no sounds. The O’Gorman Mahon’s flippant words, “Nobody has ever told me that Charlie Parnell doesn’t like women” were merely an echo. She was certain he had never looked at another woman like this. Just as she had never looked at a man, even her own husband …

Anna, making some casual remark, stirred her to reality.

“We mustn’t keep you from your business, Mr. Parnell.” She leaned forward, holding out her hand. As she did so the white rose she had tucked in her bosom when dressing fell out. He swiftly stooped to pick it up. But instead of handing it back to her he touched it to his lips and then tucked it in his own buttonhole. He smiled faintly, gave a small courtly bow, and left them.

“Gracious!” exclaimed Anna. “He’s quite a lady’s man after all. He was certainly taken with you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, if he wasn’t he was a very good actor. Did you drop that rose deliberately? Really, Kate. I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“No, I did not,” Katharine said indignantly. All the same a smile trembled on her lips. “It was quite accidental.”

“A fortuitous accident,” Anna said, not entirely convinced. “After that little touch of gallantry he’ll hardly refuse to come to your dinner party. Who will you ask?”

Willie had left for Ireland that morning. He was to be away for two or three weeks. Katharine didn’t intend to wait for his return. By that time Mr. Parnell himself might have left London. Anyway, she didn’t want a large formal party. It meant too many people to look after and not enough time to devote to the one man to whom she wanted to talk. Had he gone back into the House with her rose in his buttonhole? She was agitated, as much in a dream, as a girl in her teens. This was nonsense. And dangerous. It was one thing to be out of love with one’s husband, but to fall in love with another man would be crazy.

“I don’t think Mr. Parnell would care for a large party. He needs relaxation, not a lot of people bombarding him with questions. I think we ought to have a quiet dinner, just you and I and Uncle Matthew Wood and Justin McCarthy, and after dinner take a box at the theatre.”

The idea had come to her in a flash. She thought it brilliant. But Anna was looking a little shocked.

“Before Willie comes back? He won’t like it, Kate.”

“Why not? He entertains often enough when I’m not there.”

“He’s a man.”

Katharine’s mouth set.

“Don’t be so strait-laced, Anna. There’s no harm in my plan, and I intend to do it exactly. By all means refuse to come if it bothers your social conscience.”

But Anna wouldn’t stay away, she knew. Neither, this time, would Mr. Parnell.

Although he gave her another fright by arriving very late. She was so relieved to see him that she welcomed him warmly. She thought how tired he looked, but his extraordinary eyes were brilliant and alert, and he proved to be a charming guest, quiet, courtly, and with an ironic wit. That he was boorish and unmannerly was completely untrue, and the element of ruthlessness, the criticism most frequently made about him, showed only once. That was when, as was inevitable, the talk turned to politics.

“I hear you are filling Mr. Butt’s shoes very well,” said Sir Matthew Wood.

“I hope that I am.”

“Poor Mr. Butt,” Anna said. “I always thought him so nice, so amiable.”

“Amiability, Mrs. Steele, is not the quality to right my country’s wrongs.”

All eyes were on the handsome face, now coolly aloof, of this man who called himself Irish and spoke like a well-bred Englishman.

He said with cold precision, “In politics, as in war, there are no men, only weapons. I intend to use each man in my party for exactly what he is fitted. To hold a breach or to fire a broadside, or to infiltrate within the enemy’s lines. We are not on the defensive any longer. We are on the offensive.”

“You have some good men for those tactics,” Sir Matthew said. “I’ve noticed Mr. Biggar’s eloquence.”

Mr. Parnell gave a flicker of a smile.

“You mean his talkativeness, I presume? Or what we call ‘the gift of the gab’. Yes, he’s a useful man. He commended himself to me by one remark. He said, ‘Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment? She is not a geographical fragment. She is a nation.’ And there is our whole campaign in a nutshell.”

“He’s an ugly-looking devil, I must admit.”

“He isn’t the first crook-back England has contended with.” Again Mr. Parnell gave his faint derisive smile. “He won’t do murder—I hope—but he’ll be devilish useful in our policy of obstruction.”

“You’re not making yourself very popular by that,” Sir Matthew said. “I hear Mr. Biggar was on his feet for three and a half hours yesterday, and that even the Speaker protested.”

“The Speaker said he could not hear Mr. Biggar clearly. So Mr. Biggar obligingly moved his chair nearer. That was all.”

“He was wasting the House’s time with a lot of irrelevant nonsense.”

“But I have just been telling you, Sir Matthew, that is our policy. If England won’t make fair laws for Ireland, then we don’t propose to allow her to make any laws for herself either.”

“You’re really going to pursue this aim of Home Rule to the bitter end?”

“To the bitter end.”

There was a brief silence. Then Mr. Parnell said courteously, “I’m afraid we’re boring the ladies. It’s not my fault. When I begin to talk politics I can go on for much longer than even the famous Mr. Biggar. But I am devoted to the theatre, Mrs. O’Shea. I am looking forward to it immensely.”

Katharine scarcely realised her deliberate choice of a chair in a dark corner of the box until Mr. Parnell sat beside her. With the lights turned down and the other members of the party leaning forward to watch the stage, she had the illusion that they were completely alone. She had wanted this. Her heart was beating quickly. She tried to pay attention to the show, but the man beside her seemed much more in her line of vision. She kept glancing sideways at him sitting relaxed, his hands folded in his lap. She had thought her glances unnoticed until she encountered one of his, bent on her in quiet scrutiny. She gave a half-smile and it was returned. There was an extraordinary exciting intimacy about this exchange of glances in the dark theatre box.

When the lights went up for the first interval, Anna and the others proposed refreshments in the bar. Katharine said she was a little fatigued, she thought she would remain where she was, and, as she had known would happen, Mr. Parnell instantly said that he would keep her company.

They were alone.

“I have kept your rose, Mrs. O’Shea.”

“Mr. Parnell—do you always attack subjects so directly?” She was laughing. Then she said in a low voice, “Why?”

“Because it reminds me of you.”

“You are a flatterer as well.”