‘I fought against the Irish Poor Law when it passed through Parliament in 1838 because I knew it would lead to just such a situation as this,’ muttered the MP as he and Liam watched the cottiers pick up their children and few meagre possessions and move off toward the city. ‘Nobody would listen to me then, but, by God, they’ll have the problem dumped on their doorstep now, right enough! Come, Liam, we are travelling to London by the railway. It is a noisy, draughty and dirty means of travelling, but we’ll be in London a damn sight quicker than if we went by road.’
They did not have to go far to board the railway carriage that would convey them to Manchester, the first of two changes on the railway line to London. The interior of the first-class carriages was totally enclosed, and not so very different from the inside of the horse-drawn mail coaches that still crisscrossed England and Ireland. The seats were hard and uncomfortable and, as Liam was to find later, jolted and swayed alarmingly when in motion.
But it was the long-boilered locomotive that impressed Liam most. An awesome wheeled engine of black steel, it stood as tall as two men – three, if the long chimney was included – and hissing steam escaped from so many different places that Liam feared that it was about to explode at any moment.
Not until Liverpool was far behind them did Liam begin to relax, and Eugene Brennan confessed to sharing the fisherman’s fears of the modern means of transport.
‘A man knows where he is when there’s a horse in front of him,’ he said. ‘Even if something scares the beast and it runs away with you there’s a fair chance of bringing it to a halt before it does any damage – but how do you stop a runaway steam engine, eh? Tell me that, if you can. All the same, it will have us in London soon after dark, and the sooner we begin holding our meetings the better. There is much interest in your forthcoming talks. Lady Dudley – I believe you met her in Ireland – insists that you become a guest in her town house while you are in London, It’s a splendid beginning, Liam. Lady Dudley is accepted in London society as I could never be. Her support will be of inestimable value in our fund-raising activities.’
Liam nodded half-heartedly. He was tired after his journey across the Irish Sea and until this moment had all but forgotten the Earl of Inch’s sister. Remembering disturbed him. Her cool polished beauty was in direct contrast to the fiery dark-haired girl he had left behind in Kilmar. Liam dropped into a disturbed sleep thinking about the two women.
At first sight, London was something of a disappointment. The houses beyond the edge of the railway line seemed small and unimpressive, and the myriad lights Liam had expected to see illuminating the great city were hidden in a cold clinging fog that rolled up-river with the incoming tide. Even the magnificent tall columns of Euston railway station were lost from Liam’s view. Although he could not fail to be aware of the noise and bustle all about him, he caught only phantom glimpses of muffled men and bonneted women in the spluttering light from the lamps of the torch-boys. It was a great let-down, but Eugene Brennan told Liam the fog would clear by morning.
‘It is a terrible city at this time of the year,’ he added. ‘I am surprised anyone can breathe at all.’
They caught a hackney carriage from the station, and the MP announced that he would take Liam for a meal before going on to Lady Caroline Dudley’s house.
They ate in a high-class inn on one of the main thoroughfares in central London, sitting at a quiet table close to a roaring log fire. Liam was dismayed at the bewildering array of cutlery surrounding his plate, but he soon realised that the thoughtful Irish MP had entertained him to a meal in order to teach him the basic etiquette expected of him during his time in London.
‘You’ll get used to it – everyone does.’ Eugene Brennan smiled at his protégé at the end of his brief instruction. ‘If you’re ever in any doubt, then keep talking until someone else starts and follow whatever they do. That shouldn’t be too hard for a true Irishman. Now, it’s time we were getting on to the Dudley house.’
The square where Lady Caroline lived was illuminated with London’s latest refinement: gas lighting. The blue flames hissed and popped noisily, but they cast enough light on the surrounding houses to show Liam that this was an expensive area and differed greatly from the houses he had seen adjoining the railway line.
The two men were shown to a room that was in every way as impressive as the library at Inch House. The high ceilings and general air of luxury threatened to overcome Liam. Lady Caroline Dudley was not at home, and Liam had a brief moment of panic when Eugene Brennan announced that he was leaving. It passed quickly enough, and when the MP had gone Liam retired to the upstairs room that had been prepared for him.
Here, Liam felt more comfortable. A warm fire burned in the hearth, and he no longer had the feeling that a servant was hovering just out of sight, waiting for one of Liam’s heavy boots to catch on the thick carpet and catapult him against one of the many priceless knick-knacks in the room. He felt even better when he saw that a pile of books had been thoughtfully left for him on a fireside table.
Seated in front of the crackling fire with a book in his hand, Liam felt a long way from Kilmar and everything he knew and loved. There would be fires there, too, of course. Aromatic, smoky, peat fires and low white-washed walls.
Abruptly, Liam stood up and went to the window. Drawing aside the heavy curtains, he looked down at the street. The fog had thinned, and life was going on outside as though it were still day. Coaches and carriages rumbled past, and there was much coming and going from the fine houses with their black-painted railings and wide fan-shaped steps. Men rode high-stepping horses and occasionally raised a hat to friends strolling arm in arm along the stone-slabbed pavements. Where the blue light from the fluctuating gas-jets of the street-lamps met the yellow light from the open doors, it provided a green binding, joining the two.
Suddenly, London became an exciting reality to Liam. A vast wonderland, a thousand years removed from Kilmar. Here, Liam thought, a man could probably find all that life had to offer – or lose himself in the seeking.
He slept well between the fine linen sheets of the large bed and was startled to wakefulness by a servant girl who drew the curtains and flooded the room with daylight.
‘’Morning, sir.’ She gave him a cheeky grin. ‘Breakfast’ll be ready in ’alf an hour. Lady Caroline says she’ll see you then.’
Lady Caroline Dudley was already at the breakfast-table by the time Liam made his way downstairs. She motioned for him to take the seat opposite her and smiled at him, but again he was aware of the sadness in her eyes.
‘Well, Liam, here you are in London at last. Do you think you will like it here?’
Liam replied that he had not been able to see much of the city because of the fog.
‘Never mind. You have plenty of time, and London is a city to be tackled when you are fresh and at your very best. You must have been tired last night after your long journey. I looked in your room when I came in and you were snoring like a drunken cook.’
‘You came into my room while I was asleep?’
Lady Caroline Dudley had an attractive laugh. ‘Why, yes, Liam. Have I offended your morals?’
She saw the colour rise to Liam’s cheeks and her smile became gentler. ‘Now I have embarrassed you. I can see I will need to protect you from the more outrageous of my friends. We will also need to call upon the services of a good tailor. Your suit is fine for the rigours of the Irish countryside, but London calls for something rather more … fashionable?’
Liam had realised when he was eating with Eugene Brennan in the inn the previous evening that his suit of coarse serge fell far short of the quality of the clothes worn by the other diners, but he stubbornly told himself he had not come to London to dress up for English society.
‘My clothes will serve for the short time I’ll be here,’ he said ungraciously. ‘I’m a fisherman and I have come here to tell people of the plight of starving cottiers in Ireland. I’ve not come to learn how to become
an English gentleman.’
Lady Caroline was taken aback for a moment but, quickly realising she had said the wrong thing, she reached across the table and rested the tips of her long fingers on the back of Liam’s broad hand. ‘You are quite right, of course, Liam. To dress you up for a meeting would detract from the tremendous impact I know you will make on everyone. But we will need to show you off at various evening functions, too. You will need to dress for them. Eugene Brennan would agree with that, I am quite sure.’
The Irish MP did agree. He called that morning and, brushing aside Liam’s protests, took him to see his own tailor. Liam was measured for suits and coats, and Eugene Brennan impressed upon the tailor the need to have them ready as soon as was humanly possible. When Liam asked where the money for the clothes would be coming from the old MP replied, ‘We receive special donations for just such necessities as this. The few pounds it needs will be money well spent. You’re a fine-built young man, Liam. Put you in a good suit of clothes to set off those shoulders and there is not a lady in the city will be able ta refuse you anything – and, remember, it is the ladies you need to charm if you’d find a way to the pockets of their husbands.’
That afternoon Eugene Brennan had some business to attend to, and Lady Caroline took Liam in her open carriage on a sight-seeing tour of London. Together they saw St Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey and the grim Tower of London. They rode through the royal parks and watched river traffic on the busy Thames at the very heart of the capital.
But it was the people who held the greatest fascination for Liam. They were an ever-changing visual experience. In some of the back-streets traders ran alongside the carriage offering for sale everything from baubles to bread, while in the more fashionable thoroughfares dandies with exaggerated movements flicked their velvet cloaks and fluttered the lace at their wrists. On street-corners stood high-hatted constables, sternly aloof from their fellow-beings. There was the constant noise of street-cries, and small boys with more fat on them than Liam had ever seen on an Irish child ran beside the carriage, begging for pennies.
Most of all, Liam found he enjoyed the company of Lady Caroline Dudley. She showed him London, pointing out sights that were familiar to her with all the enthusiasm of a young girl seeing them for the first time. In the Regent’s Park she clutched at his arm in an agony of excitement when they both glimpsed the huge grey bulk of an elephant through the fence of the zoological gardens. Later, when a dog scrambled from the muddy waters of the Thames and shook water over a fastidiously pompous gentleman, she laughed and touched her cheek briefly against the sleeve of Liam’s rough serge jacket in unforced amusement.
Only when they were once more driving through the fashionable streets near her home did Lady Caroline lose some of her gaiety, although she still talked more than was usual for her, and more than once touched Liam’s hand to emphasise a point she was making.
When they arrived at her home some of Lady Caroline’s friends were awaiting her, and Eugene Brennan was there to take Liam to meet some of his own circle. There was not time to tell her how much he had enjoyed the day.
The next day was a busy one for Liam. Eugene Brennan called for him early, before Lady Caroline had risen, and to Liam it seemed that the whole day was spent shaking limp hands and holding meaningless conversations with flat unemotional people.
That evening, Liam gave his first talk on the condition of the Irish cottiers to a small audience of Members of Parliament and senior government officials at Eugene Brennan’s club. The meeting was to set the pattern for those to follow. The Irish MP gave a speech explaining the cottiers’ total dependence upon the potato and the dire consequences that followed a crop failure. He commented bitterly upon the present government’s irresponsibility toward the famine. So far, their contribution to the desperate needs of the cottiers had been a few tons of condemned naval biscuits.
Then Eugene Brennan called upon Liam to describe the misery, poverty and death he had seen in the sod cabins around Kilmar.
The audience listened in a shocked and tight-lipped silence as Liam told them of skeletal children, hollow-eyed and swollen-limbed. Children who were too weak to cry and who died when they were given food because their stomachs had ceased to function; of mothers, able to beg or steal barely enough food to keep a single child alive, having to decide which of their families they must allow to die; of women, fighting like wild animals over a scrap of putrid meat that would turn the stomach of any of the men present in the London club.
Liam painted a remarkably vivid word-picture of the horrors of the Irish famine, yet inside he still felt a deep frustration because he was unable to bring home to those listening the sheer desperation and hopelessness of the poor cottiers. Whatever was donated here would not be enough. Men, women and children would still die because they needed aid on a massive scale.
Eugene Brennan sensed Liam’s melancholy mood and on the drive back to Lady Caroline’s house told him that his talk had brought promised donations of more than two thousand pounds for the fund.
But still Liam could not shake off his depression. For some reason, the sights he had seen about Kilmar were haunting him badly tonight.
After Eugene Brennan had left him, Liam helped himself to Lady Caroline’s whiskey and sat slumped in an armchair, gazing broodily into the dying fire in the drawing-room.
He was still there when Lady Caroline returned to the house shortly before midnight. The Earl’s sister had been to an excellent dinner party at the house of a close friend and her face was flushed with the wine she had drunk.
When she saw the obvious unhappiness of her guest, Lady Caroline was immediately full of concern.
‘My dear, what has happened? What has gone wrong? Surely you weren’t given a bad reception at Eugene’s club?’
Liam dragged his thoughts back to his present surroundings. It was not easy; he had taken far more whiskey than he was used to drinking.
‘No, Eugene thinks we did very well.’ Liam told her how much they had been promised for the fund.
‘Why, that is an absolutely marvellous start for you. Two thousand pounds from such a small gathering is excellent! You should be celebrating, not sitting here looking the picture of misery. In fact, I insist! No, stay there, Liam.’
She gently pushed Liam back in the armchair as he attempted to rise, then went to the drinks cabinet and poured two very large whiskeys.
Carrying them to the fire, she handed one to Liam and raised her own glass to him.
‘I am told that drinking whiskey is not ladylike, but I happen to enjoy it and this is a very special occasion. Here’s to all the money you are going to raise for the victims of Ireland’s potato famine.’
Liam looked into his glass and said morosely, ‘And here’s to the souls of the thousands who will die before any relief can reach them.’
He took a large mouthful of his drink and it burned its way down his throat. He felt light-headed, but the whiskey was helping his mood.
When Liam stood up abruptly and walked over to look down at the fire Lady Caroline was there with a hand on his arm.
‘Liam, you cannot take all the troubles of the Irish cottiers upon your shoulders.’
‘No? No, perhaps you’re right, but there is something very wrong with the world. Here I am with a glass of expensive whiskey in my hand. Tonight I stood in a room thick with tobacco smoke, talking to men who were bloated with good food and brandy. I was trying to tell them of a people who are starving … dying. Do you think they really understood what I was saying? As I spoke I couldn’t see the faces of the men there. All I could see were the filthy sod cabins and the faces of children who look like little old men. Three score years and ten the Lord gave them to live. Who took it away from them? Can you tell me that? When I picked up a pencil from the table tonight I did not see it. Instead, it became the thin brittle fingers of a dying little girl I had found one day – a little girl who wanted desperately to live, though God only knows why.’
Liam took another mouthful of whiskey.
‘I carried that child out of a stinking cabin and laid her in a grave beside her mother and three brothers. She was six years old but no heavier than a cat in my arms. Do you think any one of the men in the club tonight really cared about that little cottier girl? Oh, sure, they gave promises of money. But what is money to them? They reach into their pockets, hand out a few coins and go away feeling good. Do they know that I am telling them about men and women and children who talk to one another just as you and I do? Who feel things just as we do? People who once had dreams for themselves and their families and who are frightened at what is happening to them now? No, they don’t want to think about things like that. It just isn’t nice…. God, but I’m drunk!’
Liam reached for the mantelshelf over the fire for support and turned away from Lady Caroline. But it was not the whiskey alone that was affecting him. The drink had merely tapped a deep well of sorrow and emotion within him. He felt for the cottiers. His whole being lived and died with them.
‘Liam, you must not let the thought of what is happening to our country tear the heart out of you. You can’t hold yourself responsible for our people.’
Lady Caroline wanted desperately to comfort Liam. The hard shell of the man had peeled away from him and tonight she had witnessed his vulnerability. Tomorrow he would feel ashamed because he had bared his soul to her in this manner – and she did not want him to feel shame.
She came close to him – close enough to raise a finger and trace away the thin line of perspiration that had formed above the line of his upper lip.
Her finger was light and soft. It stopped suddenly and rested upon the corner of Liam’s mouth as Lady Caroline looked up and saw him looking at her with a strange expression upon his face.
‘Liam, what is it, my dear?’
With a feeling of unreality, as though he was watching someone else’s actions, Liam reached out for her and felt her body slim and firm beneath the silk of her dress. Then her mouth was upon his, her hand moved up behind his neck and her body came hard to him.
The Music Makers Page 9