Dorothy Eden (32 page)

“No, I’m your sister. Mrs. Steele. I used Anna’s name. Mrs. Harvey has prepared two bedrooms since I told her I would be staying. She and Mr. Harvey have a room in the basement, of course. And yours faces the park. You’ll be able to hear the owls. You will be happy here, won’t you?”

“On occasions like this, yes. Otherwise, no. But never fear, I shall be very comfortable and make the best of it. You’ve done well for me, as usual.” Suddenly his face worked. “Katie, what would I do without your thought, your care, your love? I would be a lost man wandering in the wilderness.”

“Hush! You have my love and care always. You know that without my telling you again. But what you also need at this minute is your dinner. It’s time we tested Mrs. Harvey’s ability as a cook.”

He let her go reluctantly. During the whole of dinner his eyes admired her, sitting across from him, her ruffled sleeves falling gracefully from her wrists, her head poised charmingly and attentively as he talked.

“I really do believe you’re the loveliest woman in England, Kate.”

She laughed merrily. “You’re romancing. I’m over forty.”

“Well, so am I, and I still expect to look a handsome fellow.”

She studied him critically.

“Your hair’s getting a little thin, my love. And mine’s beginning to go grey.”

“Where are the grey hairs? Can’t we pull them out?”

His voice was so urgent that she realised she had roused his never quite dormant fear of old age and death. It was not something he could be laughed out of. His thoughts had to be coaxed away from the haunting spectres.

“It would be a major operation, and we haven’t time if we are to thoroughly test the comfort of our bedrooms.”

His eyes were twinkling again.

“The first point is taken and approved. To the second I make an amendment. Since there is only one room with a view of the park, and since we both enjoy such a view, the solution is to share the room.”

It couldn’t always be like this. Aunt Ben was now so feeble that Katharine worried if she was out of reach. She couldn’t spend many nights in London. She must pay frequent short visits to the Regent’s Park house, sometimes for dinner, sometimes for tea, and once even for breakfast after she had had to spend one night at Thomas’s Hotel to attend one of Willie’s functions.

But mostly she was not there, and the plan that had seemed so good was no longer quite such a happy one. At Wonersh Lodge Katharine found that her habit of sitting up late in case Charles drove down from London persisted. She couldn’t settle to sleep before midnight. She played parlour games with the children, and then worked late at her sewing in the hope of encouraging drowsiness.

On one particular night she was so restless and wakeful that at one o’clock she made up the fire, and at two o’clock replenished it. It would be useless to go to bed. She would never sleep. She must walk up and down trying not to think, trying not to weep.

How could it be so lonely in a house full of people?

She was getting so wrought up and fanciful that she thought she could hear the familiar sound of a horse trotting, and cab bells jingling.

She strained her ears. Had she imagined it? Was that the sound of footsteps on the side path? It couldn’t be.

But yes it was! For a moment later there was the gentle tapping at the window, and he was there, his figure tall and dark in the moonlight, his face pressed against the window-pane.

She flew to the door, opened it and was in his arms.

“Oh, my love, you must never leave me again!”

“Neither I shall. I was so lonely in that damned house in Regent’s Park I thought I would go mad …”

“
Never leave me again …
” What miracle did she think could happen?

Carmen came home from dancing class in tears. Katharine finally managed to extract her woebegone story. Some girls had been singing a bad song about someone called Kitty O’Shea. They said it was her mother. They said you were Kitty O’Shea, Mamma …

Gerard, who had trusted in her promise that Mr. Parnell should not come to the house, heard his voice in the sitting room. He said nothing to her, but switched his bewildered loyalty to his father and wrote him a letter.

“Dearest Father,

Although my news may not be pleasing to you, yet it must be told. On my return from London this evening I came in by the back way and as I came past the window of the new room that was built last year I heard the voice of that awful scoundrel Parnell talking to a dog—Grouse, I suppose. So I asked my mother if it were and she says that he has come to dine and will be gone presently. Perhaps I ought to have gone in and kicked him, but I am anxious to avoid unpleasant scenes with my mother. And I also think that it is better for you to know about it before giving him a thrashing, as you, of course, understand more about these things than I do. However, if you wish me to kick him you have only to say so and it shall be done on the first opportunity.

Your affectionate son, G. H. O’Shea.”

Willie telegraphed saying that he had had a letter from Gerard and would be down the next day.

Katharine braced herself for the inevitable quarrel. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and was shocked by its look of hardness and determination. Where was the graceful woman who had sat in the ruffled teagown and smiled at her lover? Was she two people?

But Willie was unexpectedly calm. Indeed, his calmness unnerved her more than his usual blustering rage. He startled her to begin with by saying he was resigning his seat and getting out of politics.

“After all the trouble there was to get Galway for you!” she said incredulously.

“I’m
sick
of the whole business. I have no respect for any of them, least of all their leader. Am I to take orders from the man my own son calls a scoundrel? I refuse to be picked out as owing a seat in Parliament to Parnellite terrorism.”

Katharine winced. Willie had shown her Gerard’s letter and it had struck her to the heart.

“Has it occurred to you that the Irish party might despise you as much as you despise them?”

“What do you care about the Irish party, Kate? You’re not even Irish. You’re English. You don’t care a damn whether Ireland sinks or swims. You don’t care if every peasant starves to death or drowns in the everlasting rain. You’re a hypocrite.”

“That’s not true. I do care.”

“Yes, for the man. Not his country.”

“For people,” she insisted.

“Then why never for me?” he demanded. “Why am I always the one to be kicked out?”

“I never kicked you out. You left. You left when you started having other women and remembering me only when it suited you. I didn’t love Charles until whatever there was between us was completely dead. You’re the hypocrite for refusing to admit that.”

He brushed that aside. “Let’s not argue about old history. I came down to settle more immediate things. I’ve got Gerard with me in London and Anna has agreed to have the girls.”

“Anna! My own sister!”

“Who happens to be a much more suitable person than their own mother.”

Katharine froze. “The girls stay here. And I hope you will allow Gerard to come home so that he can get on with his studies.” She added, “What have you said to Anna?”

He gave a short laugh. “I didn’t need to say much. She knew. Everyone knows. I tell you, it’s an intolerable situation.”

“Charles isn’t here now,” she said in a low voice. “He has a house in London. He only comes down to dinner occasionally. Gerard knows this. I promised it some time ago, for his sake. And I certainly won’t have my daughters taken from me because I entertain a friend to dinner.”

“I want you to see your solicitor.”

Her head shot up.

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to go and see Pym. I’ve talked to him myself. He knows the position.”

“But whatever for. Unless—”

“Unless I’m at last planning a divorce?” His eyes narrowed cruelly, “No, it hasn’t come to that yet. But I intend having a talk with Cardinal Manning.”

Katharine looked at him in despair.

“Why didn’t you do this years ago? Now it’s too late. They would make it so dirty.”

“What do you care about dirt? You’ve asked for it, haven’t you? What about that woman in Brighton where you rented a house?”

“What woman?” she asked patiently.

“The housekeeper. Mrs. Pithers, Mrs. Pethers, whatever her name was. She said you used to come in late at midnight with your hair all flying. Imagine a servant being able to talk of my wife like that!”

“Imagine you listening to a servant like that!”

Her contemptuous voice at last roused the tell-tale colour in his cheeks.

“That’s what you’ve reduced me to. But I’m not going to stand it any longer. If you don’t go and see Pym I’ll know what to do next.”

She could fight with just as sharp weapons as he could.

“It will be a pity to have to give up your comfortable rooms in Albert Mansions. You won’t much like living on a mortgaged estate in Ireland among the people you so despise, will you? What will your mother say when her famous son comes home a failure? And if you take the children from me, how are you going to support them? How is Gerard to be started in a profession? Are Norah and Carmen not to have a coming out? I know you don’t need any more help in your career from Mr. Parnell since you’ve decided to throw that away. It was a pity you backed the wrong man when you backed Chamberlain. But you’ll still want to be the man about town, won’t you? You’ll still hope to enjoy good food and wine. I’m sure you’ll still want to entertain feminine company occasionally. I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought that my aunt might not be the golden goose forever.”

His face had gone dark. “Kate, you’ve turned into a shrew!”

The shock in his voice turned her cold deadly anger into a weak hot dissolving spot inside her. She must not at this stage burst into tears. But he had spoken the truth. She was becoming a shrew. Somehow she managed to say:

“If you fight, I will fight, too. You won’t emerge from this any better than I will. And one thing you won’t do, you won’t destroy Mr. Parnell. You can’t.”

“We’ll see about that when the time comes.” She could not have said anything more calculated to inflame his anger. “The man isn’t a god. He’s simply a clever unscrupulous fellow who sneaks into another man’s house when his back is turned, and makes love to his wife. Oh, I can destroy him, never fear.”

“But Willie, you agreed to all this. You encouraged him to come to the house. You knew that Clare and Katie were his. We had conversations.”

“With no witnesses.”

She saw the trap, and cried passionately, “Will you be believed more than me?”

“Yes, I will. Because I’m the injured party, and because you’re a woman who will be a disgrace to her sex.” He picked up his hat. He was jaunty again, his confidence restored. “Take my advice, Kate. Go and have a long talk to Pym.”

It was unfortunate for Anna that she chose to come down that afternoon, after Willie’s departure.

Katharine, bruised and sore from the worst encounter she had ever had with her husband, turned on her sister angrily.

“Have you been conspiring with Willie to take my children from me?”

“We haven’t been conspiring, Kate. We’ve only been discussing the desirability of it. Don’t look at me like that. I was the last to believe in all this talk. But I have to now. It’s an open secret. You might as well face it.”

Anna was looking remarkably handsome. She had always dressed well, and was now wearing a maroon jacket and skirt, with a dashing little hat with a curling feather. She was a little plump, but that made her face nicely rounded and smooth. It suddenly occurred to Katharine that Willie might find it not only comforting but enjoyable having her as a confidante. He had always admired her. It was very probable that had Anna been unmarried when they had first met it would have been she and not Katharine whom he would have chosen. She had always been more worldly and amusing, qualities Willie liked in a woman.

These thoughts made Katharine say in an intense voice, “I will not have you and Willie take my children from me. I haven’t harmed them, and they still love me. I’ll fight for them, in court if necessary.”

“Now, Kate, don’t get so fussed. Be practical. How can you bring Norah and Carmen out? Do you want them listening to whispers about their mother’s reputation? Or worse still, being ostracised? Why should they be punished? I beg you, do have some sense.”

Katharine had felt the colour draining out of her face. She felt prickles of gooseflesh on her arms. She was cold, cold.

“They’re much too young to talk about coming out. Wait until that time comes.”

“And what then?” Anna asked implacably.

Her defences were down.

“I don’t know. Don’t ask me. I just don’t know.”

“Kate, what is it you see in this man? Do tell me. I’d dearly like to know how a woman can ruin herself for a man. Is it worth it? When he kisses you, do you forget the whole world? Can you? I’m sure I couldn’t. I’d be thinking of the winks and the skirts drawn out of my way. I’d begin to hate him for what he had done to me. But perhaps you’re too noble to do that. Perhaps you only hate poor Willie.”

Katharine had her fingers in her ears.

“Stop!” she whispered. “And never come here again if you’re going to talk like that. Find someone of your own to fall in love with if you’re so anxious to experience love.”

“Kate, how dare you! I’ve been happily married for years.”

Katharine looked at her with dry exhausted eyes.

“Then why do you ask
me
what love is like?”

Anna departed in a huff. Katharine watched her go, realising that she had alienated even her own sister. It was ugly, ugly, ugly.

But she would go and see Mr. Pym, who had been hers and Aunt Ben’s solicitor for years. Things were getting too difficult to manage alone. She was resolved only that Charles should know nothing about this development. The obsession to protect him was almost stronger than the obsession to love.

Mr. Pym was dry and quiet and apparently impossible to shock. He listened to her protestations of innocence, giving no sign whether he believed them or not. But he did agree wholeheartedly that it would be a bad thing to remove the children, especially the girls in early adolescence, from their mother whom they loved.