Ruby Flynn (17 page)

The sound of the cup rattling on the saucer brought him to his senses and he noticed as he reached for it, that Ruby’s own, thin and delicate hand trembled in response.

He dared to speak, although he didn’t trust his own voice. ‘Are you quite settled at Ballyford?’

‘Oh yes, Lord Charles, I really am,’ she responded with genuine enthusiasm. ‘I do love it here.’

Charles raised his eyebrows and smiled. He had expected a polite ‘yes, thank you’. He had hardly ever managed to extract a word from any of the maids. They were either too shy or Mrs McKinnon trained them never to answer him, he wasn’t sure which. If this one had been trained, she was paying no attention.

‘And my wife. Have you, er, managed well?’

‘Oh, yes, no trouble at all. We get along just fine now, Lady Isobel and me. She loves Rufus, you know. I bring him in here every morning now and she likes to stroke him and tickle his belly. Rufus is becoming very fond of the lady, too.’

‘You manage better than I do, then,’ he said, leaning forward to stir the tea again.

‘I am just her maid,’ Ruby replied. ‘She expects nothing more than that from me. It is only hard when she becomes excited. It takes Mr and Mrs McKinnon to help, then. I can’t manage on my own.’

They both heard the nursery door click then and saw Mrs McKinnon returning with Lady Isobel.

Lady Isobel looked coldly at Charles.

‘Lord Charles has some news, don’t you?’ Mrs McKinnon nodded furiously at Charles.

‘Oh, I’m very sure my husband has news, don’t you Charles? Is it news from Liverpool?’

Charles looked at Mrs McKinnon with a confused expression. ‘Do I? Do I have news?’

‘Mr McKinnon tells me you are thinking of resurrecting the Ballyford Ball again soon, aren’t you?’

Charles felt his heart sink. It had seemed like a good suggestion at the time.

‘I hadn’t thought much about the detail, Mrs McKinnon,’ he replied. ‘I had planned to work with Mr McKinnon on the estate. I’m only here for a few weeks or so before I have to return to Liverpool.’

‘Yes, but as you know, the doctor thought it would be an excellent idea. He said Lady Isobel must return to what she knew and was familiar with. He said that would be the best medicine.’

Charles knew at once that this was a trap. Mrs McKinnon was always one step ahead of him. She wanted him to stay for longer and this was her way of making it happen.

‘The doctor is a man, Mrs McKinnon, with six living healthy children. The Ballyford Ball hardly sounds like a prescription he would have learned in medical school.’

Charles sounded exasperated even to his own ears. He saw Mrs McKinnon’s disappointment and he hated himself.

He looked at Lady Isobel and she met his gaze without animosity. Her look puzzled him, for a fleeting moment he saw a total clarity of thought in her eyes and she had looked amused. As though she too knew what Mrs McKinnon was up to.

‘However, it seems to me that I am ill qualified to disagree with the experts. What do you think, Isobel? Shall I invite some of our friends over for a ball? Shall we let our neighbours know that all is well at Ballyford? We could have a day’s fishing and you could spend some time with your old friends.’

To everyone’s utter amazement Isobel replied, ‘Well, maybe the doctor is right. I think it might be good for me to see people again.’

For a moment the only noise in the room was that of the teapot gently simmering on the silver tea-light stand.

Charles found himself turning to Ruby. ‘What do you think? Is it a good idea?’

But this time Ruby did not reply and looked down at her clasped hands in embarrassment.

Charles instantly realized his faux pas in having addressed a servant with such a personal question and turned to Mrs McKinnon.

‘Sorry, I have been up since dawn and the journey is always exhausting. Is this a good idea, Mrs McKinnon? Could you, Amy and the rest of the staff cope?’

Mrs McKinnon’s back straightened in indignation.

‘Was it not me speaking just now? Did I not say that I thought the doctor was right? He charges enough, so he should be.’

Mrs McKinnon bent down and stroked Lady Isobel’s hands as though soothing a small child.

‘Wouldn’t that be something for us all to look forward to? We could go through your ball gowns together, you and I and we could alter one down to fit you, now that you are so much slimmer. I will write out the invitations and Ruby will help, as she has a good hand. It would be no trouble for you Lady Isobel.’

Lady Isobel stared at Mrs McKinnon, this woman who had helped deliver her babies and been at her side throughout every ordeal. The woman she and Charles both trusted and regarded as a mother. To the relief of everyone in the room, she nodded.

‘There we go,’ said Mrs McKinnon. ‘The Ballyford Ball shall happen once more. It will be just like the old days.’

Charles dared not speak. The old days held nothing but memories of pain and loss. He could not remember the last Ballyford Ball. It was a blur. Unimportant to him, but essential to the staff, the status of Ballyford and their way of life.

‘We had better pick a date then as it will take some time to organize.’

Once again he looked at Ruby, who smiled back at him. Her smile said,
Well done you, all will be well
. And then, undeniably, she followed with slight narrowing of the eyes, a puzzled expression,
I think I know you
.

Charles was suddenly aware that the history between them both had a life of its own. He should have made more effort to find Iona earlier. Before his father had been laid to rest in the crypt, they had scoured all of Ireland from shore to shore, but it was as though she hadn’t wanted to be found. As though she had not forgiven him. And all the time he had thought how could anything good to come from Ballyford, when the wishes of his dying grandfather had been so callously ignored. The McKinnon’s thought they knew where she had been taken, but hopes were dashed when they discovered they were wrong.

Mrs McKinnon led Lady Isobel out of the room. Their hushed voices spoke of gowns and gloves and polished tiaras. Charles looked down at his hands, determined not to look at Ruby as she cleared away the china cups. The silver sugar tongs clattered as she laid them on the tray. Both of them knew that each was waiting for the other to speak.

He fought with his own instincts and neither looked away from the fire nor moved, as she left the room. He heard the door click, as the tea trolley rolled out onto the wooden floor of the gallery.

Charles let out a deep sigh. He was here, alone in Ballyford and it looked as though it could be for a month, instead of the two weeks he had originally planned. He would write to Rory. He could return to Ireland and visit his mother at Ballyford. They could deal with business at the same time. Charles felt his urge to return to Liverpool draining away. The castle called out to him, there was a reason to stay at the place he had once loved with all his heart. It was pulling at him in the familiar way he knew all too well.

Walking over to the fire, Charles picked up a silver framed photograph of his firstborn son from the stone mantelpiece.

As always, his eyes filled with tears as they rested on the image of his son and he felt his heart contract with familiar pain. It had the same effect every time and he wanted to scream out the only word that ever came to him.
Why?

He pushed his thumbs into his eyes to stem the tears as his eyes lingered. It was as though he was seeing the picture for the first time and he wondered if his pain would ever lessen.

He turned to leave the nursery and without warning felt a premonition of fear run through his veins. His skin prickled as Ruby stood silently by the door, waiting.

‘Did you want me for anything?’ she said. ‘You seem very sad. Is there something I can do to help?’

‘No, thank you. Nothing,’ he replied, walking past her. As he did so, his eyes met hers and she held his gaze. She was near enough for him to reach out with his hand and touch her face. He was overcome by an urge to push back the strand of hair that had fallen across her eye. She was trying to blink and blow it away, not wanting to raise her clasped hands. She shook her head and the wayward hair lifted and then fell to the side of her cheek and her eyes held his, unblinking, still. The air between them felt charged, alive and waiting for the past and the future to fuse and connect.

She knows. God, she already knows. How can she
?
he thought. He felt his own pulse, hammering in his throat and, afraid of what he might do or say, he pushed past her and strode purposefully away towards the safety of his own study.

Ruby and Jane had retreated to the linen room. It was the place where all gossip was exchanged, away from the eyes and ears of Mrs McKinnon and Amy, both of whom were well aware of what went on there.

‘We grew up gossiping in our mother’s kitchen and on the front step,’ said Amy to Mrs McKinnon. ‘These girls have been in service since they were children, best we make sure they can have a little gossip or they will never learn.’

This made Mrs McKinnon smile. Scottish, buttoned up, proper, she was astounded by the capacity of Irish women to talk and secretly envied them this rich source of entertainment.

In the linen room, a damaged linen basket had been overturned and the castors removed to provide a makeshift table. A collection of damaged chairs from the castle were scattered around the room, awaiting attention and repair. Some had even been in this state of limbo waiting to be sent to England since before the war.

Ruby and Jane had arranged to meet just after breakfast. Jane had caught Ruby on the stairs.

‘Meet me in the linen room after the lady has been served her morning trolley and save me some bloody coffee.’

Ruby had wondered what Jane wanted to discuss, but her thoughts soon turned to Lord Charles. Betsy had been right to describe him as gorgeous. Ruby had never met or seen a man who looked or dressed as he did, other than in the magazines that arrived for Lady Isobel from London. She could even smell him as she bent and served his tea. She had been alarmed at her own reaction. He mouth had dried, her pulse had raced and she felt her scalp tighten. Within minutes, she had become curious, if not fascinated by the man who was, in effect, her employer and the husband of the woman she had come to care for.

Ruby had not seen Lord Charles since yesterday. She had no business being in the study, that room was the responsibility of Mr McKinnon and Betsy, who kept the fire burning. But despite her best intentions, Ruby found herself looking for him at any opportunity. Each time she heard footsteps on the landing, she crept to the door and peeped outside, without really knowing why. She reasoned with herself and fought with her own thoughts and emotions.
I only want to see him, I’m just curious,
she told herself over and over, knowing that she would reveal her thoughts to no one, not even Betsy or Lottie.

Nevertheless, at the allotted time, Ruby made her way to the linen cupboard, pushing the trolley in front of her and Jane came in through the door, struggling with a large plate.

‘I got us two hot bracks while I was in the kitchen,’ she whispered. ‘Amy is in a good mood today and sure, that can’t have anything to do with Jack being sat at the kitchen table, can it?’

Both girls laughed.

Ruby always knew by breakfast time what mood Jane was going to be in for the day. It was anyone’s guess whether a sour and miserable Jane would turn up for her oats and milk or a bright and cheerful one. The pleasant Jane turned up rarely but when she did, the entire staff breathed a sigh of relief. As Jane now dragged up a chair and Ruby poured the coffee from the silver pot she had used to serve Lady Isobel, she was thankful Jane was in a good mood today.

‘Does Amy know we are up here?’ Ruby asked.

‘Stop, are ye mad?’ Jane said. ‘I haven’t half done yet. She would be in here after us, dragging me out by my ear. Amy has no issue with a good natter, mind, she just likes to know the work is done first. God, ye should hear her giving out if something gets behind. A proper scold she’s becoming these days. I reckon she is sweet on Jack, but gives out that she isn’t. I would bet all my spare knicker elastic, she and him, they’ll be kissing soon.’

Ruby flopped on to a chair next to Jane.

‘God, don’t let her hear you saying that, or she’ll be kissing you with her hand, I’ve no doubt. I don’t know why Amy isn’t married, she’s very pretty, even though she always smells of cabbage water.’

Jane threw Ruby a confused glance. She thought Amy smelt lovely.

‘I reckon she’s still sweet on Rory Doyle, although God knows, he left the cottages years back. She lived behind the Doyles and they were to be married. Then suddenly, for no reason at all, he upped and disappeared in the middle of the night. Away to Liverpool, they say. He has his own wife and family now, but every now and then he sneaks back and when he does, there’s no talking to Amy. No one is supposed to know he has snuck back, mind, but his mammy can’t help telling everyone. My mammy says Amy has never forgotten or forgiven him. In fact,’ Jane leant forward and whispered, ‘my mammy saw him sneaking into Amy’s mammy’s cottage only a few weeks back and Amy snuck in, just after him.’

‘Poor Amy, she must still love him, to make herself so available like that. Does she know why he just suddenly left?’

‘Someone does, but they won’t tell me,’ said Jane. ‘’Tis a big secret. Ballyford has lots of secrets, so my mammy says.’

Ruby decided she felt sorry for Jack. She already didn’t like Rory Doyle if he was standing between Jack and happiness.

Jane emptied the last of the buttermilk from the jug into her cup, before pouring the leftovers from Lady Isobel’s coffee on top.

‘How is the lady today?’ she asked. ‘Has she scratched yer eyes out yet, like she tried to do to me after the second one died?’

‘No, not at all. She seems quite perked up today, maybe the Ballyford Ball is a good idea, after all. Mrs McKinnon wants me to start helping her to write out the invitations this afternoon.’