A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  His eyes filled with tears. “But, sure, we’re engaged, Kitty! The deal is done!”

  “What kind of an answer is that?” She was aghast. “I was engaged to Lionel and I skipped out of the arrangement quicker than Lanigan’s ball! I don’t want you to marry me because you feel obliged to!”

  “I’m telling you that I’ll marry you and I love you and that’s an end to it!” he said, his voice rising.

  “But I don’t want you to tell me that!” she said angrily, jumping to her feet. “I don’t want you tell me anything! I want you to feel it!”

  “Ah, you want too much!” he snarled.

  “I want to know the man I am marrying loves me – and no one else! Is that too much to ask? I don’t want to be married to somebody in love with somebody else – maybe that’s fine for other people, but not for me! I could be married a dozen times over by now if I wanted that kind of arrangement!”

  He sank down on his knees, putting his face in his hands.

  She went to him, got down on her knees and cradled him.

  “But, Mick, I can’t be happy unless you are happy too … I know what it’s like to care about two people deeply at the same time. I felt that way about you and Harry. But in the end my heart told me I was in love with you and I chose you. And that’s what you need to do now – choose! And if you choose Hazel, then so be it. I’ll understand. I’ll be heartbroken but it will be the right thing for you to do, to go with her if you truly love her.”

  He looked up into her face. “You’re wonderful, Kitty.”

  She sighed as she hugged him. “So are you, Mick.”

  As Michael sat in the back of his chauffeur-driven car leaving the Grand Hotel, his mind was still in turmoil. As he looked around the quiet village, he remembered the times he had come here every week during the War of Independence, to bring food and money to De Valera’s family while he had been campaigning in America. Now De Valera was in hiding somewhere on the other side of the civil war. He thought of how he had become engaged to Kitty there, in October the previous year. It was one of the happiest days of his life. So much had changed since that day. He hadn’t even met Hazel then. As he thought of Kitty back in the hotel, he leaned forward to the driver and told him to go to the house of a close friend of his who lived in the village – Doctor Brendan Leigh Doyle.

  The car pulled up outside the house. He got out, walked up the path and knocked on the door.

  “Ah, Mick! Is it yourself! Come in!” said Brendan, beckoning him into the hallway before calling to his wife. “Victoria – it’s Mick Collins!”

  Victoria came out of the kitchen and kissed Michael. “Mick – what a pleasant surprise! You’re just in time for tea!”

  “No. I’m not stopping. I was just passing so thought I’d drop in.”

  “Sure you don’t come and see us enough, Mick – but we all know how busy you are,” Brendan said.

  “You look tired,” said Victoria.

  “I’m fine. I’m off to Cork in the morning. And I just wanted to ask you a favour. Kitty is staying in the Grand Hotel close by – will you mind her for me? Just look in on her while I’m away and make sure she’s alright?”

  “We will surely, Mick,” said Brendan, suddenly becoming concerned. “Is everything alright?”

  “It is, when I have good friends like you,” he said with a smile before turning and leaving.

  Victoria and Brendan stood at the door and waved him off as the car pulled away, before exchanging a concerned look.

  CHAPTER 77

  That evening Hazel walked down the steps of the Royal Marine Hotel where she had been informed by the manager that General Collins was waiting for her in his automobile. She was surprised to see he didn’t have his usual escort with him, only one driver. The driver opened the back door and she got in and gave Michael a hug.

  “Where are your bodyguards?” she asked as the driver sat in and they drove off.

  “I decided not to bring them tonight. After the attempts during the week I thought I was being too conspicuous driving around with an escort – drawing attention to myself. More discreet this way.”

  “I don’t know if that is wise,” said Hazel doubtfully.

  “Where’s John?” he asked, ignoring her unease.

  “He’s not coming, Michael.”

  “Why not?”

  “He knows what’s been happening between us, Michael.”

  “Oh no!” Michael sighed in horror.

  “I’m afraid he’s given me an ultimatum. To stay married to him or leave him for you.”

  He looked out the window silently.

  “Michael?”

  “I just feel great shame,” he said as he rubbed his forehead. “I respect John so much. He’s been a great friend to me and for him to know that I have been … with his wife. I hardly recognise myself these days.”

  “Events have changed you – they have changed me too.”

  “Changed for the better or for the worse?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Well, Kitty has effectively given me the same ultimatum.”

  The car drove in through the gates of Sir Horace Plunkett’s estate and up to the manor house, Kilteragh. As Michael observed the stunning sprawling manor he became unnerved. It was one thing mixing with London high society, quite another to be mixing with the Irish Anglo-Irish aristocracy in his own country. They had been the sworn enemy for generations.

  As the automobile pulled up outside the house there were several other expensive automobiles parked outside. The butler and two footmen hurried down the steps to open their automobile door and escort them up the steps into the house.

  Michael gaped at the gigantic hallway as they were led across it and into the drawing room.

  A tall regal-looking woman approached, arms outstretched in welcome.

  “Daisy!” said Hazel, using the name her friends called her, as she embraced her.

  “Hazel! Looking ravishing as usual!” Elizabeth had a jolly no-nonsense approach to life.

  “Bless you for noticing, darling – we do our best!”

  Sir Horace, a thin bright-eyed man in his late sixties, approached.

  “And, Horace, thank you for the invitation, so nice to be back at Kilteragh,” said Hazel, embracing him.

  “And lovely to have you back, my dear Hazel,” he said, smiling. “Where’s John?”

  “A headache, or a migraine, or one of those irritating pains artists get – oh!” Hazel broke off. “George Bernard Shaw! You wonderful man!” She threw her arms around the famous writer.

  Michael stood at the edge of the small group, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as he watched Hazel play to the crowd like the great performer she was. As if she had just remembered Michael was there, she turned to him with a flourish and announced, taking him by the hand, “Everybody – this is the famous – the infamous – General Michael Collins!”

  “We are delighted to meet you! Naturally we’ve heard so much about you!” said Elizabeth as she shook his hand.

  “A great pleasure,” said George Bernard Shaw, shaking his hand.

  “Likewise,” said Michael.

  “I thought half the Irish army would be in attendance!” said Horace.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s just one car this evening, Michael thought it better to travel low key,” said Hazel as she took a glass of champagne from the butler. “Well, he has endured two assassination attempts this week alone. On Tuesday we were dining in our hotel when a sniper was found on the grounds. Seemingly I was blocking his aim at Michael!”

  “Hazel, I think I should be shaking in my shoes if I were in your position,” said Elizabeth.

  “It will take more than that to unnerve me!” said Hazel.

  “It’s no wonder poor John is down with a headache!” said Horace.

  Michael was very quiet throughout the dinner as the others chatted and laughed. He felt tired and emotionally exhausted. He felt out of place and, as he looked at Hazel, he
thought how comfortable she was amongst these people. She was in her element there.

  Afterwards they retired to the drawing room.

  As Michael spoke to George Bernard Shaw, Elizabeth sidled up to Hazel.

  “Well – what do you make of him?” asked Hazel, as her eyes remained focused on Michael.

  “If I have to be honest, I would say I am a little disappointed,” said Elizabeth.

  “Disappointed!” said Hazel, turning quickly to face her.

  “Yes. I had expected him to be witty and funny and charming company – instead he hardly said two words over dinner!”

  “Well, he’s had quite a week, Daisy, between Arthur Griffith’s death and the assassination attempts and he is devastated after the loss of his friend Harry Boland.”

  “Oh, yes, I know. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’ and all that – but after hearing how he took London by storm, I think I was expecting a little more than a farm boy. But perhaps what is exotic to the London ladies is commonplace to us Irish ladies?” Elizabeth smiled and moved on to talk to Horace.

  Elizabeth’s words had hit home and Hazel felt wounded and deeply disturbed. She tried to shake the feeling off as she watched Michael chat to George Bernard Shaw but negative thoughts and fears welled up in her. She tried to imagine her life if she did leave John and form a relationship with Michael. Where would they go? Where would they live? His career would be destroyed, that was certain. And she would lose her place in London society amidst a scandal the likes of which had rarely been witnessed before. Although she always enjoyed being a celebrity, would she enjoy notoriety? And what about John … her wonderful, loyal, patient John. Could she really ever hurt him? Could she ever do without him? She felt dizzy from the whirl of emotion going through her as she realised that it was as John had said – she was standing on a cliff edge and it was a long way down.

  “Are you sure we can’t persuade you to stay any longer?” asked Horace as Michael and Hazel were leaving.

  “Very kind of you, but I am travelling to Cork in the morning. Thank you for your hospitality,” said Michael.

  “Thank you, dear Horace. I shall be in touch,” Hazel kissed both his cheeks before she and Michael walked out and down the steps to the car.

  As they drove down the long avenue, Hazel said, “Are you alright, Michael? Everyone commented how quiet you were.”

  “I don’t feel that well. I shouldn’t have gone there tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you would enjoy it.”

  “I felt ill at ease. Those people were decent and interesting – rebels and reformers in their own way! – but they aren’t my kind of people, Hazel. I’m not one of them and never will be.”

  “I did suspect you felt uncomfortable amongst them … but, they are all good friends of mine.”

  “I know. But it just made me realise how different we are. I’m from a different class and culture. I didn’t notice it as much in London, but I do here in my own country.”

  Hazel’s heart sank as she heard him echo Elizabeth’s words.

  Michael reached forward and pulled back the dividing window.

  “Yes, Mick?”

  “We’re not ready to go back to the hotel yet – take us for a spin somewhere, up in the hills.”

  The driver turned around and headed further into the country.

  “What are we going to do, Hazel?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Michael.” She looked at him despairingly and shook her head.

  “All I know is there is a broken-hearted girl in a hotel room in Greystones and a broken-hearted man in a hotel room in Dublin,” said Michael.

  “Look, I didn’t ask to fall in love with you and I’m sure it was the last thing on your mind to fall in love with me – but it happened! Guilty as charged!”

  “But … what kind of a life could we have together?”

  “You would lose everything.”

  “So would you.”

  “You would have to give up your position,” she said.

  “Of course … if they couldn’t accept a relationship with a married woman for a Protestant like Parnell, they certainly won’t accept it for a Catholic like me.”

  “So, we couldn’t stay in Ireland?”

  “It would be impossible. We’d be ostracised. Same goes for England, I imagine. We would have to go to somewhere where nobody knew us or, if they did, couldn’t care less about Ireland and our past.”

  She sighed as she looked out the window. “I’m too – old to begin in a new place where nobody knows me.”

  “America is the only place we could go to.”

  “America? But Americans do care about Ireland! So many have Irish ancestry and they have given the cause such financial support! We could never hide away there. Besides, I know so many people in America – I promised myself I would never go back after Dorothy died. It wouldn’t be starting afresh for me there – it would be anything but! And there is Alice to consider. Her whole life is in London. I couldn’t just transport her to America.”

  They fell silent for a while, both brooding on an uncertain future.

  Hazel was thinking about her daughter.

  “And what would our affair do to Alice’s marriage prospects?” she said at last. “What family would allow their son to marry her with a divorced mother mired in scandal?”

  “That’s true,” Michael whispered, as if to himself.

  They fell silent again for a while, then Michael spoke.

  “Hazel, would you really still want me if I no longer had my position?” he asked.

  “I’m not in love with you because of your position, Michael,” she said.

  “Are you sure? Is it not my fame, my reputation that attracts you? Strip that away and I’d be just an ordinary man.”

  “I love you, Michael.”

  He sighed. “But, Hazel … have you thought … what work would I do? Who would hire me?”

  “I have money, Michael.”

  “And I would be what?” he said gently. “A kept man?”

  Tears started to roll down her face.

  “I’m sorry, Hazel. I’m just trying to face the hard facts.”

  He leaned forwards and tapped on the window again.

  “Pull over,” he said, indicating to the driver who pulled in to the side of the road.

  “Let’s go for a walk, Hazel.”

  She nodded as he opened the door and helped her out. They were high up in the hills, the city spread out below them and the sea beyond that, the full moon lighting up the water like silver.

  They walked along the country road.

  “I have never loved anybody like I love you, Michael. But I’ve let these feelings carry me away. I got caught up in the excitement and the drama – I needed it because sometimes I just look at my life and, when I take away the parties and the fame and everything else, it just feels empty. I want my life to have meaning and I run around desperately trying to fill the void and you fill it completely. For the first time in my life, the void is filled. But how long would that last? If we left Ireland, we would both lose everything that gives meaning to our lives.” She looked up at the shooting stars that were crossing the clear August night sky. “I’m afraid our love is as beautiful but as transient as one of those shooting stars … I could never leave John. He’s been too good to me. He’s my security and, most of all, he knows me. He understands me. He knows all my faults and weaknesses, and not only does he forgive me for them, he loves me for them.”

  They stopped walking and he pulled her close to him and kissed her.

  “So this is the end?” he asked.

  She nodded tearfully.

  “What about you? Will you go back to Kitty?” she asked.

  “If she’ll have me,” he said.

  “Of course she will – she’s in love with you. And she’s a very lucky girl.”

  “We had better get back,” he said.

  Back at the car, Michael opened the door. Hazel got in
and he followed.

  Suddenly there was a gunshot and the window on the side of the car shattered.

  “Get down!” shouted Michael as he grabbed Hazel’s by the back of the neck, pushed her down on the seat and fell on top of her.

  There were more shots as the snipers opened a volley of shots on the car. The driver sped away as quickly as he could down the country road as shots continued to be fired.

  Hazel was shaking as she arrived back at the Royal Marine Hotel and made her way up to the suite. It was after two in the morning. The sound of the gunshots was still ringing in her ears. She had come so close to death.

  In the suite she walked to the bedroom and, opening the door, turned on the lights.

  John awoke with a start and sat up to stare at Hazel who was standing inside the door in her coat and hat.

  “We were fired upon!”

  “W-w-w-hat?”

  “We were being driven back from the dinner party at Horace Plunkett’s when out of nowhere a barrage of shots came at us!”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, but only by luck! Glass was shattered, bullet holes through the metal – I am lucky to be alive.”

  “Do you need to see a doctor?”

  “No. I need to see a barman.”

  She went to the drinks cabinet, poured herself a strong gin and downed it in one.

  “Michael is alright?” asked John.

  “Yes, he has had a lucky escape yet again.”

  She came and sat on the side of the bed and took his hand.

  “And I have had a very lucky escape. I am a very lucky woman, John Lavery.”

  “Yes, you could have been killed!”

  “Not just that. I am a very lucky woman to be married to a man as wonderful as you. How do you put up with me?”

  “I am quite happy to put up with you – as long as you are happy to put up with me.”

  “Well, I am not going anywhere any time soon, so we shall just have to put up with each other.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his lips.