Dorothy Eden (8 page)

“I’m here, Lucy,” she said at intervals during the long night, as the shrunken figure on the bed breathed with more and more difficulty.

And in the morning there was a letter from Dublin.

“My dear Mrs. O’Shea,

I cannot keep myself away from you any longer, so shall leave tonight for London. Please wire me at 16 Keppell Street, Russell Square, if I may hope to see you tomorrow, and where.

Yours always,

C.S.P.”

She crushed the letter in her hands. Her face was distraught. She had promised not to leave Lucy, she could not leave her faithful old servant who, bereft of all other senses, could yet feel to grope for her hand and cling to it.

But she hadn’t seen him for so long, and how was she to bear the thought of him waiting for the message she could not send. He would pace up and down the hotel lobby, hoping that perhaps, instead of the message that never arrived, she would arrive herself.

This was torture. She was suffering every moment of his disappointment and perplexity. Would he think she had decided to give him up, that the price of loving him was too great and she was too mean-spirited to pay it?

Lucy died late that night, and in the morning Katharine, saying she must tell Willie personally, took the train to London. Her first call was at the Keppell Street Hotel. Heavily veiled, she enquired at the desk for Mr. Parnell, only to be told that he had left for Dublin less than an hour ago. But there was a forwarding address. Had it been left for her?

So at least she could write and know that within twenty-four hours he would have an explanation and the assurance that he had not been deserted.

Willie came back to Eltham with her. He shed a few emotional tears over poor old Lucy, the loyal soul she had been, and took her to be buried at Cressing beside Katharine’s mother and father, where she would have hoped to lie. He behaved very nicely, and offered to stay longer if Kate would like him to. She saw that he expected to use Lucy’s death as a basis for a reconciliation. What better time for Katharine, weeping and forgiving, to seek his arms? She was dismayed and disgusted, and very relieved when, thoroughly bored with a house in mourning and an aloof wife, Willie could stand it no longer and went off to seek gaieties in London.

After that the house was very quiet. But at last the longed-for letter with the Irish postmark arrived. Katharine cried when she read it, for Charles was full of sympathy for her loss. She could hardly imagine his happiness at receiving her letter. But matters were tense and he could not get back to England for a few days. Did she know that Captain O’Shea was suggesting his coming down to Eltham to visit, and what did she think of that?

This was the first she had heard of such an idea. Willie must have been in touch with Charles since he had been here. It was typical of him not to have discussed the matter with his wife.

She walked about feverishly trying to imagine how she could hide her feelings if Charles were actually in her house, sitting in her drawing room, and Willie was expecting her to play the part of a gracious hostess. It would be an impossible situation! She must plead all the excuses she could think of, Lucy’s death, the shabbiness of the house, Aunt Ben’s demands on her time, Willie’s own dislike of the country.

“Katharine, my bird, you look so sad.” That was Aunt Ben, looking up from the froth of shawls with which she protected herself from draughts in the tapestry room. “You mustn’t grieve for Lucy. She had a quick and merciful end. She wasn’t left cooling her heels as I am. Now don’t sit at home brooding. Bring the children over this afternoon. I haven’t seen them for a long time.”

Norah and Carmen loved going to visit Aunt Ben. They were awed by her great age which Norah guessed to be two hundred years at least. They pleaded with her to tell them stories about her childhood, which she obligingly did, describing the kind of clothes she used to wear, poke bonnets, long skirts and petticoats, white stockings. No little girl then would have dreamed of wearing the hideous black stockings of nowadays, and what was more, showing her leg almost to the knee. The little girls giggled merrily. They could not possibly imagine Aunt Ben in her poke bonnets and white stockings either. She could never never have been a child.

“Could she, Mamma? Mamma, aren’t you listening?”

Katharine aroused herself and smiled. Dusk was falling and the owls were beginning to hoot. In a moment the maids would come in to shut the windows and light the lamps. It was time to go back to the empty house and her secret worry.

Did Willie really mean to invite Charles to the house?

He did. He broached the subject when he came down on Sunday.

“Will he come do you think? You must add your persuasions to mine. You seem more successful than me in snaring him.”

“Snaring! What a horrible word.”

Willie looked surprised at her vehemence.

“It expresses exactly what I mean. You’re a bit sensitive, aren’t you? What’s worrying you?”

She walked about agitatedly, twitching back the faded curtains, pointing to the carpet where it was worn.

“The house is too shabby. Mr. Parnell is the leader of the Irish party. It’s almost like entertaining the Prime Minister. And we haven’t enough servants.”

“Then engage more.”

“Willie!” She rounded on him angrily. “With Aunt Ben already paying all the household expenses, how dare you suggest being extravagant like that. Have you no pride?”

Willie, sensitive about his pride, was instantly aggrieved.

“There’s no call to say a thing like that when can’t you see I’m trying to do the thing to advance my career. You can’t accuse me of liking Parnell. He isn’t my type at all. But I’ve wit enough to see the way things are going. He’s going to become a major power in the Government and I’ve no doubt his friends will come in for some notice. Besides, I’m getting some influence of my own that he’ll hardly have the bad sense to ignore. And he isn’t coming down here to look at the state of the furnishings. He’s been slaving himself to death in Ireland, rushing from one end of the country to the other. He needs a rest. We’ll have him down next weekend when he arrives back in London.”

“Will he come?” was all Katharine could ask weakly.

Willie fixed his cool blue gaze on her.

“Didn’t I suggest that you add your persuasions?”

“If they’re worth anything.”

“Oh, they are, I assure you. It’s getting around that he admires you.”

“Is—it?” Her hand, halfway to her throat, stopped, by sheer effort of will.

“Thinks you’re a fine-looking woman. Well, that’s what he told Tim Healy.” Willie, his point gained, had picked up the newspaper. The dangerous moment had passed. It hadn’t really been dangerous at all. For he was quite pleased that that cool and fastidious politician, Charles Stewart Parnell, should admire his wife. He liked to have his possessions admired.

Mr. Parnell was due to arrive on Saturday evening. The house was in a flurry because Willie was supervising everything. The cook had already been in tears, and Miss Glennister had the little girls dressed in their white muslin party frocks quite an hour earlier than necessary. Katharine had objected to the children being dressed up so obviously, but Willie was proud of his pretty daughters and wanted to show them off. It was a pity Gerard was not home from school so that he could show off his son, too.

Katharine sat in her bedroom hesitating a long time over her own toilette. Willie would be pleased if she took the greatest pains with it.

She wanted to look beautiful for Charles, but only for him. Why must he be put in the intolerable position of watching the woman he loved playing the part of the well-groomed and apparently cherished wife? She toyed with the thought of putting on her least attractive gown and coming down looking crushed and colourless.

Vanity won. She spent a long time brushing her hair and coiling it round her head. She put on a low-necked dress that showed her shoulders to best advantage. She was very pale, but her eyes were bright with tension and excitement. She patted a little rice powder on her nose, and sprinkled a few drops of perfume on her handkerchief.

When she heard the wheels of the cab, she flew to the window to draw back the curtain and peer down.

There he was stepping out of the cab. The sight of his tall figure, so immediately familiar as if it had never for a moment been out of her sight, made tears spring to her eyes. She clenched her hands, resisting an impulse to go running down the stairs, and flinging open the door to welcome him.

She had firmly decided not to do this. Willie was to greet Charles (she must guard her tongue so she did not call him by his first name, publicly) and take him to his room. This would give him a chance to adjust himself to the house and the circumstances before meeting her. Not that she wasn’t absolutely sure he would carry off any situation with complete aplomb.

She lingered in her room, giving Charles time to change. Willie would have told him that dinner was at seven.

She went down precisely at that hour, and found Miss Glennister bringing her charges down at the same time. So the greetings were easy after all. Willie was exuberantly showing off his daughters, and Mr. Parnell was courteously giving them all his attention. When he turned to Katharine, it was with the greatest ease and simplicity.

“Mrs. O’Shea. Forgive me for being quite absorbed in your little girls. I see they have your husband’s eyes, but your smile.”

Katharine bent swiftly over the children, kissing them on their rosy cheeks.

“To bed now, angels. Kiss Papa goodnight.”

In the resulting small flurry she had regained her poise and was able to say without a tremor: “How good of you to spare time to come down to us, Mr. Parnell. You have been working much too hard, my husband tells me.”

He gave her his grave considering gaze. He was very thin, with deep lines engraved on his cheeks. He looked as if he needed weeks of rest. No sounds would disturb him in the bedroom overlooking the garden except the early cawing of rooks, or the wind in the trees. He could rest or work as he pleased.

“If you find it comfortable here, we hope you will come again.”

Willie didn’t see the light leap in Mr. Parnell’s eyes for he had his back turned, pouring sherry.

“Yes, I’ve an idea you might find it useful to make this place your headquarters, Parnell. It must be inconvenient moving about so much. How does your mail ever catch up with you, for instance? And how do you snatch a bit of rest without being besieged by all and sundry? But we’ll talk of that later. Kate and I are eager to hear all about the latest developments in Ireland. Aren’t we, Kate? My wife is developing quite a taste for politics.”

“Yes, we do want to hear everything,” Katharine said calmly. “But after dinner, Willie. Mr. Parnell must be hungry as well as tired. Shall we go in straight away?”

And that was almost the only remark she made to him for the entire evening. Willie began to talk politics before they had finished their soup, and the discussion went on, growing more and more absorbing to the two men, until Katharine excused herself, saying that she would like to go on talking but not, she begged, until the small hours.

They both sprang up. Charles contrite, Willie perfunctory. Willie kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Sorry, my love. This is pretty boring for you.”

“Yes, you’ve been very patient with us, Mrs. O’Shea. As you see, I get carried away with my schemes. But this idea of preparing test cases to prove the value of the Land Act, when it goes through, is the only way to be sure that it is a fair act and the English mean to stand by it. I think it would have far more chance of being a fair act if only we could deal directly with the Prime Minister while it’s in preparation. But he’ll never be seen conferring with any of the Irish members. That would damn him in his own party’s eyes. What we need is a go-between, a person not connected with either party.”

“Preferably,” said Willie, “a woman.”

Charles shot him a sharp look. “Had you someone in mind?”

“My wife.”

Katharine made a startled exclamation.

“It isn’t as preposterous as it sounds,” Willie went on, and it was clear that Mr. Parnell didn’t think it preposterous either, for he was giving Katharine a contemplative look that made her remember his remark that he treated men as weapons. Women, too? Even one he loved?

“Kate is very good in political circles,” Willie was saying. “Joe Chamberlain was quite impressed with her the other night.”

“She would only need to carry messages,” Charles said thoughtfully. “Would you care to do it, Mrs. O’Shea, if we find the opportunity?”

Willie, pleased with his idea, broke in to say that Gladstone, who was supposed to be a rigid puritan, cherished a secret weakness for good-looking women. Look at his reputation for saving prostitutes. One can hardly be expected to believe that he was only interested in their souls.

“Mrs. O’Shea’s business with him would be strictly political,” Charles said coldly.

Unabashed, Willie said he was only emphasising that Gladstone would be unlikely to refuse to see Kate.

“The point is,” said Charles, “whether Mrs. O’Shea would mind doing this. We seem to be merrily arranging her part without consulting her wishes.”

“Certainly I will do it if it serves a useful purpose,” Katharine said unhesitatingly. The idea was beginning to excite her. It would be tremendous to play an active part in the coming struggle. Whatever anyone said, a woman with an active mind found keeping house an unsatisfying and frustrating occupation. She would enjoy meeting Mr. Gladstone and that enjoyment would be heightened by knowing she was helping the Irish cause and Charles. Besides, might it not give them more legitimate opportunities to be together?

“Thank you Mrs. O’Shea,” Charles said gravely. “I think this may be a most useful idea. We’ll be grateful to you.”

She went upstairs and undressed and lay down in bed, but it was impossible to sleep. When, much later, she heard the men come upstairs she lay rigid for a long time, fearing that Willie, in his present affable mood, might decide to test the feelings of his wife in much the same way that he was planning to test the reaction of his countrymen to the new Land Act. But mercifully he stayed away. She knew that their state of armed neutrality could not go on for ever. Perhaps he meant to keep his threat that she would have to come to him if ever she wanted him again. And that eventuality would be most unlikely, she reflected, and suddenly fell soundly asleep.