Rebel Sisters (19 page)

‘You'll turn heads tonight,' Nellie teased.

‘Well, that is the intention!'

Satisfied, they set off for Surrey House, which was only a few minutes' walk away on Leinster Road in Rathmines. The three-storey red-brick building was all lit up, its windows flung open on such a warm summer's night, and the music playing inside could be heard from the road.

As they approached they noticed a group of Dublin Metropolitan Police officers standing outside the house, watching it and the comings and goings of guests.

‘Why are they here?' Nellie asked.

‘The Castle hate Madame – they keep her under watch at times,' whispered John. ‘They know she's a supporter of Larkin and his union.'

Count and Countess Markievicz's housekeeper, Mrs Delaney, opened the door to them. She was like a guard dog, protective of the countess, and for a moment Nellie was aware of her steely gaze raking over her; however, as John had become close friends with her mistress, she welcomed them warmly inside.

The party was in full swing, the house thronged with people, abuzz with noise and laughter. Countess Markievicz, dressed in a purple lace gown with some kind of feathers in her hair, immediately came to welcome them, telling them that Casimir, her husband, had just returned from Poland and the party was in his honour.

The house was full of books. They were everywhere – on tables, shelves and sideboards and stacked on the floor. The walls were covered with paintings, for the countess, like Grace, had studied at the Slade and was a very fine artist. A portrait of Constance Markievicz by her husband hung on one wall, while a human skull sat on a shelf close by it along with bronze busts of Robert Emmet, Wolfe Tone and Henry Grattan. Stage posters, programmes and scripts littered a circular table in the corner.

Grace and John introduced Nellie to lots of artists and theatre people – she was delighted to meet a few of her favourite actors.

Helena Molony was there and Nellie found herself chatting to her as her sisters, along with the countess, lit up their cigarettes and smoked. She had tried cigarettes herself a few times and found it vaguely pleasant but was not a huge fan of tobacco. Con Colbert, a friend of MacDonagh's who taught in St Enda's and helped train Countess Markievicz's boys in the Fianna, came to join them and entertained them with a story of their recent camping trip up in the Dublin Mountains in July.

‘We camped in tents and the boys had lessons in scouting and orienteering, and even did a bit of fishing. The countess is a powerful shot and told the boys about how she grew up hunting all kinds of birds in her home in Lissadell in Sligo. She showed some of the older boys how to shoot.' He laughed. ‘I swear I never saw anything like it, for the young fellas must have shot every poor blackbird, crow and thrush in the place.'

Countess Markievicz chatted easily to her guests, but often moved to the window where she would stand for a few minutes, smoking her cigarette as she watched the policemen grouped outside her home. Nellie also noticed that their hostess seemed rather distracted and kept disappearing off into another room. A burley young man seemed to be standing guard outside it, while drinks and plates of food were brought in and out of it by the housekeeper.

A handsome young man played the piano and there was singing and later some dancing, which everyone joined in. Grace was off talking with her coterie from the United Arts Club, in a heated discussion about Hugh Lane's annoyance at the opposition to the audacious new art gallery, designed by Edwin Lutyens, which he proposed be built straddling both sides of the River Liffey. William Martin Murphy and many members of Dublin Corporation were objecting to the plans, as the city was expected to foot half the costs while Hugh Lane paid the other half.

‘Lady Gregory will support it and has raised some of the funds for the new venture, but a decision must be made,' said the countess.

‘The city needs a proper new gallery that will garner attention,' insisted Casimir. ‘Yeats says a refusal of Hugh Lane's grand plans will discourage a whole generation of artists and leave Ireland considered a huckster nation.'

Most of the guests at the party agreed with him. Nellie said nothing. She liked the view up the River Liffey and did not think replacing the Halfpenny Bridge with an art gallery that blocked the view was the right thing to do. Surely it would be far better for Dublin Corporation to tear down some of the city's appalling slum dwellings and instead invest in some decent housing for the poor instead of a gallery? But then she was no artist!

It was late when they finally said their goodbyes. As they thanked her for the party, Countess Markievicz expressed relief that only a solitary DMP man could be seen loitering near a tall hedge.

‘Perhaps his friends have finally gone home for the night. But I fear that they will be back in full force in the morning. John, promise me that you will all return here to the house to join us for breakfast in the morning,' she urged anxiously as they hopped in a cab for the ride home. ‘I will explain the situation to you then, as I have a very special secret guest and may have need of my friends here …'

‘Of course we will come,' John assured her as they took their leave, all curious as to what the next morning's visit would bring.

^fn1
Now O'Connell Street.

ARRIVING AT SURREY
House on Sunday morning for breakfast, Nellie could see the DMP men were already on duty watching the building.

Mrs Delaney quickly ushered them inside to the dining room, where they found Countess Markievicz in a slightly agitated state, smoking as she paced up and down the room. A tall man was sitting in the chair watching her. Nellie immediately recognized Mr Jim Larkin, the union leader. Now the reason for subterfuge was clear, for the DMP were searching the city for Jim Larkin. There was a warrant out for his arrest for sedition and disturbing the public peace by raising discontent among His Majesty's subjects.

‘Jim has been staying here secretly,' confided the countess. ‘Hiding him here among our crowd of friends, we decided, was the best way to confuse the police, but today we need to move him, for he has promised to talk at a workers' rally on Sackville Street.'

Only two nights ago Larkin had spoken to thousands of people in Beresford Place, tearing up the legal document banning the meeting, telling the crowd that he cared as little for the king as he did for the magistrate who issued it.

‘Jim is set on talking to the workers again today and won't think of letting them down,' explained Helena Molony, who was also present, ‘though getting him out of here is going to be difficult as the house is under heavy surveillance.'

Countess Markievicz made sure she introduced Jim Larkin to everyone.

‘This young lady is Miss Nellie Gifford. She is a sister of John and Grace.'

Nellie felt the union leader's strong fingers grip her hand.

‘Are you an artist too, Miss Gifford?'

‘No, I teach cookery,' she said, suddenly embarrassed by the practical, mundane nature of her work compared to her sisters. ‘I give domestic courses in towns and villages outside Dublin.'

‘Then you must get to see all walks of life on your travels around the countryside.'

‘Indeed I do,' she said with a smile.

She could see understanding in his long face before he was called away by another guest.

As she drank a cup of rich coffee, Nellie couldn't help but worry how exactly Jim Larkin would avoid arrest once he stepped outside the safety of Surrey House, but he made it very clear to everyone in the room that he fully intended to keep his promise to his union members to speak on Sackville Street at midday. But surely he must know that both the Dublin police and the Royal Irish Constabulary would be there in full force, ready to arrest and imprison him?

Plans were afoot to transport him secretly, with talk of hiding him inside a funeral casket in a hearse, but unfortunately no undertaker could be found who would agree to provide one.

‘We have to somehow get him to Sackville Street without being recognized,' the countess appealed to them.

Nellie took in the striking six-foot-four figure with his strong features, long, distinctive nose and his Liverpool accent. She suspected that unless he
were
hidden in a funeral casket it would be nigh impossible.

‘Our only hope is to disguise him, like we do with actors on the stage,' suggested Helena. ‘We could use wigs and make-up and a costume to transform him.'

‘Do you think it would possibly work, Helena?' the countess asked seriously.

‘Yes, maybe. To carry it off Jim must acquire a different persona. Then hopefully he can be safely transported from here to Sackville Street without being recognized by those awful police. An elderly gentleman, perhaps in the care of a relative – a daughter or a niece … Jim cannot talk or utter a word at all in case it gives the game away.'

Larkin listened to their plan. Realizing that there was no alternative, he agreed to wear some kind of disguise. Gussie McGrath was sent to book two rooms in the Imperial Hotel under the name of Donnelly, with a request that the rooms have a balcony overlooking Sackville Street so that Larkin could talk as intended to the crowd below.

The transformation of Jim Larkin into an elderly gentleman would be undertaken by Helena, who, as an actress, was well used to theatrical make-up. Countess Markievicz fetched the boxes of wigs and theatrical props that she and her husband used for their own stage productions. The count, who was almost as tall as Larkin, searched his own wardrobe for something for the union leader to wear.

‘Who will accompany Mr Larkin to the hotel?' worried the countess.

John, excited by the adventure, immediately volunteered.

‘I'm afraid, my dear, that you, like Helena and myself and most of us here, are far too well known by those hound dogs that sit outside the house or at Liberty Hall and so are used to seeing you visiting me.'

John then suggested Grace.

‘I'm not much of an actress,' admitted Grace, who far preferred painting backdrops and sets or making costumes to being on stage.

‘My dear, I'm also afraid you are far too striking and well known to take on this venture,' agreed the countess, who had witnessed Grace's lack of stage ability in her own plays.

‘What about my sister Nellie?' suggested John. ‘She's certainly not known to the police.'

All eyes turned to Nellie. She blushed. She would have liked to strangle John there and then for volunteering her.

‘Nellie, would you be willing to accompany Mr Larkin in this risky endeavour?' asked Countess Markievicz, coming over to her. ‘You could be of great help and service to us in this dangerous plan.'

Nellie was conscious of everyone watching her and awaiting her response. She held the renowned union leader in high regard and very much believed in his cause, but attempting to fool the DMP was a different matter … Then, pushing all caution aside, Nellie decided that despite her misgivings she would at least try to help him.

‘Yes,' she found herself saying. ‘I'll accompany Mr Larkin.'

‘Thank you, young lady,' he said as Helena whisked him upstairs to transform him.

About fifteen minutes later a stooped, elderly gentleman of the church in a silk hat, long black frock-coat, high collar and striped trousers walked slowly down the stairs. His thick, dark hair was now coloured grey, and he had a grey-white beard and moustache, bushy grey eyebrows and wore gold-rimmed glasses. Lines had been painted on his face and brow to age him.

‘Perfect!'

‘I can't believe it!'

They all gasped as he stood before them, for Jim Larkin had been utterly transformed. He now looked smaller and much frailer. He was now Reverend Donnelly, a country rector, up in Dublin for a medical appointment at the hospital.

It was coming near midday, so a cab was ordered and they were given two pieces of luggage. Just before Nellie got ready to leave, Helena quickly handed her a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and a floral-patterned shawl.

‘Put these on, Nellie,' she advised. ‘The glasses, like Jim's, are for the stage and you must try to make sure you hide your hair well up under your hat.'

Nervously slipping on the glasses and shawl, she joined the other guests, who were all filing outside, saying loud goodbyes to the Markieviczs and thanking them for breakfast as the cab arrived.

‘Be careful,' whispered the countess as Nellie helped Larkin into the cab and gave instructions for the driver to take them to the Imperial Hotel. Larkin, lost in contemplation, remained silent during the journey.

Nellie's hands began to tremble when she saw that a crowd had already gathered in expectation of his appearance on Sackville Street and prayed that none of his union members or those that frequented Liberty Hall would recognize him. The Dublin Metropolitan Police formed almost a cordon around the Imperial Hotel and her heart froze as she wondered how they could possibly pass them.

The cab driver came to a halt outside the hotel and she immediately paid him, dismounting from the cab as the driver fetched the two suitcases. She could see a DMP man staring at them as Larkin slowly and rather erratically began to climb out, keeping his face down. The cab driver rushed over to give his elderly passenger a hand.

‘It's all right, Uncle,' she said soothingly, taking his arm firmly, and Larkin gave her a reassuring squeeze as the cab pulled off.

‘Sir, what is your business in this place?' enquired the DMP man and his fellow officer.

Larkin said nothing, his eyes downcast, his features unchanging.

‘I'm afraid my uncle cannot hear you, Officer. He is deaf,' Nellie replied on his behalf, ‘very deaf.'

‘Are you visiting this hotel?'

‘My uncle is booked to stay here for the next few nights. He's in Dublin to attend medical appointments at the hospital tomorrow,' she explained slowly, trying not to shake.