Songs of Love and War (15 page)

‘Goodness, she must have wanted to kill herself very badly to go to all that trouble.’

‘Why didn’t she just holler for help, I ask you?’ said Hubert, hands on hips. ‘I always have my shotgun at the ready. Would have given me a lot of pleasure to have had a
go at him. Goddamn shame he didn’t choose
my
bedroom window instead!’

‘Will you find him?’ Kitty asked anxiously.

Constable O’Duggan shook his head. ‘Unlikely, I’m afraid. There’s no evidence and no one’s going to talk in Ballinakelly. But we’ll do our best.’

‘Thank you, Constable,’ said Adeline.

The constable scratched his whiskers and looked perplexed. ‘The thing is, Lord Deverill, I’m not sure what the motive was. You see, if he was intending to rob you, why would he enter
through a bedroom window on the first floor, requiring the use of a ladder? If he wanted to do harm, why
that
particular window? It wasn’t left open or ajar. And why did Miss Grieve
run all the way up to the attic to throw herself off the roof? Did she have a suitor perhaps? Was she being harassed by anyone?’

Adeline looked surprised. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she said, turning to her granddaughter. ‘Kitty would know.’

‘Miss Grieve had no one in the world but her mother,’ Kitty replied, making the decision in that moment not to speak of the letter she had managed to steal from Miss Grieve’s
bedroom before the police arrived to go through it with a toothcomb. ‘She never talked to anyone in Ballinakelly and no one talked to her. She was very private and very solemn.’

Constable O’Duggan nodded gravely. ‘Well, thank you for your time. One other thing, Miss Deverill . . .’

‘Yes?’ Kitty felt a nervous heat crawl over her skin.

‘Don’t go after chasing these people. They’re armed and dangerous. It’s not safe.’

‘I won’t do it again, Constable. I wasn’t thinking.’ She lowered her eyes and sighed heavily. ‘I won’t be so impulsive in future.’

When Kitty was at last alone she closed her bedroom door and took out the letter from where she had hidden it beneath her pillow. Then she sat on the bed to read it.

18th January 1910

Kitty folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Then she wiped her eyes and took it to the fire. She watched it burn in the flames until it was finally reduced to ash and was gone.

She gazed into the blaze until her eyes watered. Did Miss Grieve kill herself because she faced a life without love? It didn’t seem probable considering she had received the letter four
years before. Did she do it because Kitty had told her she looked fifty and she suddenly realized she had turned into an old woman before her time? Had she been so desperately unhappy all these
years? Had Kitty only ever considered herself? Was it her fault? She sat trembling even though it was warm in front of the fire.

The police searched Miss Grieve’s bedroom and the ground directly beneath her window, but concluded that it was a simple case of suicide as the result of an attempted
robbery. No one had any faith in them finding the culprit. If anyone had the slightest knowledge Constable O’Duggan knew he’d be the last to hear of it.

Kitty rode into Ballinakelly that afternoon to find Jack. He lived in a small but tidy white house with a view of the harbour. With his father away at the front it had fallen on Jack’s
shoulders to take over his duties as vet. She hoped he’d be home. She dismounted and knocked on his door. A moment later Jack’s mother opened it. When she saw Kitty she looked none too
delighted. ‘Miss Deverill, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘I’m after Jack,’ Kitty replied smoothly. ‘I have a problem with my horse.’

Mrs O’Leary called for her son. Then she looked past Kitty at the grey mare that was tied to a post. ‘Is she all right?’ she asked.

‘Yes she is. It’s just a small matter. Nothing serious.’ Kitty felt foolish: she didn’t imagine there was a fitter horse in the whole of Ballinakelly.

‘Jack!’ his mother called again. A minute later Jack appeared.

‘Miss Deverill,’ he said, as surprised as his mother to see her.

‘I hope I haven’t disturbed your dinner.’

‘No, you haven’t. I twisted my ankle on the stair last night and have been laid up all day.’ He shook his head and pulled a sorry face. ‘’Tis a right pity.’
Jack’s mother withdrew back inside the house and Jack stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

‘I had to see you,’ she said quietly.

Jack limped to Kitty’s mare and pretended to look it over. ‘I heard what happened.’

‘It’s dreadful, Jack. She’s dead because of me,’ she hissed, eyes filling with tears again.

‘Because of
us,’
he emphasized.

‘They think it’s an attempted robbery.’

‘So much the better.’

‘But I know and I’ll never forgive myself.’

‘We’re in it together,’ Jack said solemnly. ‘I’ll take it to the grave, Kitty. Don’t fret about that.’

‘I never thought you’d do it.’

Jack looked up and down the street furtively, patting the horse’s flank. ‘I wanted to impress you,’ he replied dolefully. ‘I didn’t expect to see a face staring at
me in the window.’ He straightened and looked at her steadily. ‘What’s this about ghosts then?’

‘I can see them,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve always seen them. It’s a gift.’

He stared down at her a moment. ‘Well, I can’t say I don’t believe you, can I?’

‘Not now.’

‘Scared me half to death.’

‘You were lucky. If you hadn’t had that hedge beneath you there might have been two bodies to grieve over.’

Jack lifted the horse’s hooves, one by one, as Kitty followed him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Grandma told me never to tell a soul. But I told Bridie. She said people are locked away for less.’

‘So, Lady Deverill sees them too, does she?’

‘Yes.’

‘And they don’t scare you?’

‘No.’

He grinned up at her and Kitty was grateful for his humour. ‘You’re a quare one, Kitty Deverill.’

She smiled back. ‘I know. But you’ll still be my friend, won’t you?’

‘I’ll always be your friend,’ he said, dropping a hoof and standing up. ‘We’re bound by our secret now, forever. Indeed and we’ll take it to the
grave.’

‘To the grave.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your mare.’ Jack gave it a hard pat on the neck. ‘She’s a fine horse altogether.’

‘I’d better go.’ She mounted with ease. ‘Is your ankle going to mend?’

‘It’ll mend. Will you get a new governess?’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ said Kitty, riding off.

That night Kitty found Barton in his usual place, in the silk chair with his feet up on the foot stool. ‘Well hello, little Kitty,’ he said. She was surprised to
see him in good humour, but perhaps other people’s misery appealed to his dark character.

‘I came to talk about Miss Grieve,’ said Kitty. ‘I’m sorry I asked you. I never will again as long as I live. It was a terrible mistake and one I regret
bitterly.’

Barton frowned. ‘You think
I
had something to do with that?’ he asked.

Kitty was confused. ‘Well, didn’t you?’

‘I did not,’ he said. ‘But you got what you wanted all the same.’

‘I did not want Miss Grieve to die!’ she rounded on him furiously. She bit her lip and lowered her voice. ‘I did not want her scared to death.’

‘Oh, she wasn’t scared to death. Quite the opposite.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The man who appeared in her bedroom, nice fellow though a little too sentimental for my taste . . .’

‘Who was he?’

‘A soldier, killed in the war, poor sod.’ Kitty felt cold tentacles creeping across her skin. ‘He’d been trying to get her attention for some time. Can be very
frustrating for us dead people.’

‘What was his name, Barton?’

He scratched his beard. ‘Let me see if I recall.’

‘Try,’ said Kitty.

‘Jonnie Wilson. That was it. Jonnie Wilson.’

After the tragic death of Miss Grieve, Lady Deverill received word from Maud that Kitty’s governess should be replaced at once. She did not want her daughter spending her
days in idleness and mischief. Maud turned to Cousin Beatrice for advice. Celia no longer had a governess, it transpired, but a tutor, which seemed more fitting for a young lady of fourteen. So
Cousin Beatrice came back swiftly, recommending a twenty-four-year-old Cambridge scholar called Robert Trench, who was the middle son of great friends of theirs in London. He was an intelligent,
sensible man who would certainly give Kitty a fine education as well as imposing important boundaries. He was exempt from fighting in the war because of an infection suffered in childhood which had
resulted in the stiffening of his leg, so the post at Castle Deverill would be a most welcome one indeed. Maud agreed without further ado – she didn’t really care what he was like, only
that he was suitable – and sent word to her mother-in-law that he would arrive after Christmas.

Another change in Kitty’s life was the surprise promotion of her friend Bridie, who exchanged her job at the kitchen sink for one in the private side of the castle, as Kitty’s
lady’s maid. This, of course, had nothing to do with Kitty’s mother and everything to do with her grandmother, who felt sorry for Kitty after the loss of Miss Grieve. With Bridie as her
personal maid at least she’d have a girl her own age to talk to – and she wouldn’t have to skulk about the castle corridors concealing their friendship.

The new position meant that Bridie shared a small bedroom at the top of the castle in the servants’ quarters with a young maid from Bandon, called Molly Seymour. Bridie was relieved she
wasn’t on her own. The wind moaned around the turrets at night and the ancient floorboards creaked as if Kitty’s ghosts were restlessly walking up and down. At first Bridie missed her
bed in the farmhouse. She missed the familiar smells of cooking, her brothers’ tobacco, the scent of turf fire and cows. She missed the sound of Michael and Sean playing cards at the table
with friends: the castle was so quiet and eerie. Then she worried her mother wouldn’t be able to do without her. But Michael was head of the family now and he had told her she couldn’t
refuse a job that paid her thirty pounds a year. It didn’t take her long to adapt to her new surroundings; it was adapting to the rules of the upper household that she found confusing, having
been friends with Kitty for so long and previously confined to the kitchen.

Servants were never to let their voices be heard by the ladies and gentlemen of the castle. They were always to ‘give room’ if they met one of the family or betters on the stairs.
They were to stand still when spoken to by a lady or gentleman and never to begin a conversation or offer an opinion, nor even say goodnight. They must be as spectres, going about their duty
without being seen, like silent leprechauns. This, of course, was all very well for the servants who had no relationship with the family but not for Bridie, who had to master a life of deception.
In Kitty’s bedroom she could be herself. She could lie on Kitty’s bed and tell her the gossip from Downstairs. In Kitty’s bedroom they could be friends. But in the rest of the
castle she had to follow the rules like the other servants. O’Flynn, the butler, was above all of them, for he was the link between Lord and Lady Deverill and Downstairs, and, having worked
for the previous Lord Deverill, he had a more superior status than most butlers.

Bridie had much to learn and Miss Lindsay, Lady Deverill’s lady’s maid, was keen to instruct her, believing strongly that standards should be upheld, even though many of the old
guard were too doddery to do their jobs properly. As a lady’s maid, Bridie began her day rising early to bring her mistress a morning cup of tea. She prepared the bath, the water for which
was brought up in cans, and laid in readiness everything Kitty needed for dressing. Then she would have her own breakfast in the housekeeper’s room and wait for the bell to summon her, which,
as it was her friend Kitty ringing it, was almost immediately. Bridie had to understand hair-dressing, dressmaking, packing, the care of dresses, boots, shoes, gloves, hats, bonnets, riding habits,
ball gowns, and the art of mending. She learned to wash lace and fine linen, mend buttons on boots and replace feathers on Kitty’s riding hats. Miss Lindsay prided herself on her high
standards, but Bridie discovered that she, too, could be meticulous. Her stitches were so small and neat Miss Lindsay was rendered speechless, her care of Kitty’s clothes impressive for a
fourteen-year-old with no experience of expensive fabrics. She was obedient, dutiful, conscientious and able.