‘Butt, my good chap! Well, what news do you have for me? What sentences were passed upon them?’
Ephraim looked unhappier than ever and when he spoke he stuttered over his words. ‘They weren’t…. I mean … they were found “not guilty”. They got off.’
‘Not guilty!’ Sir Richard Dudley sprang to his feet angrily, and Butt took a pace backward as though he feared the baronet was about to spring at him.
‘I told you to obtain irrefutable evidence. What happened?’
‘Eugene Brennan produced certified documents to account for every penny he had ever received for his fund.’
‘Damn! I never thought the old fool would be so cautious. But what about the fisherman – his clothes? He could never have afforded them. The money must have come from the fund.’
Ephraim Butt seemed to be having trouble breathing.
‘Well, where did the money come from? You must know. Speak up, man.’
‘Lady Caroline,’ the unhappy man stuttered. ‘Your wife stood up and told the court she bought them for him.’
Chapter Thirty-One
On Thursday, 25 June 1846, the government of Sir Robert Peel fell, defeated on the second reading of the Irish Coercion Bill.
On the same day, the Corn Law Amendment Bill, cause of so much resentment among the members of his own party, finally passed through the House of Lords.
Sir Robert Peel’s defeat had been assured once he had brought about the relaxation of the Corn Laws protecting the land-owners from foreign competition. It mattered not at all that he had been forced into this course of action by the desperate situation in Ireland.
When Peel had been Chief Secretary for Ireland, he had been in the habit of drinking the Protestant Orangeman’s toast to the glorious memory of William III. Now Ireland had wreaked a wry revenge and caused the downfall of a brilliant, albeit an occasionally misguided, prime minister.
Eugene Brennan had remained in London to vote against Peel on the crucial issue, while Liam began his journey home to Kilmar – with Caroline.
It had been necessary to keep the fact that they were travelling together a secret from the MP, but he was far too involved in plotting Peel’s downfall to think of much else.
They were not travelling on the railway, to Liverpool, Instead, they were making a four-day journey in a cross-country coach to Holyhead and taking the much shorter sea route from there.
Their first day’s journey was along good roads, and the coach rolled into the yard of a Rugby inn for the night stop with three hours of daylight remaining. The dinner was good English beef helped down with a fine claret, and for the first time since the trial began Liam felt himself relaxing. In spite of Eugene Brennan’s constant assurances, there had been times when Liam doubted the wily old politician’s ability to secure their acquittal. He should have known better, he admitted to himself. He did not doubt now that he would one day become a Member of Parliament, but it would be a very long time before he acquired Eugene Brennan’s craftiness and guile.
‘Can I share your thought, or is it a secret?’
Caroline watched his smile with much pleasure.
Liam told Caroline what he had been thinking, and she agreed with his opinion of the Irish MP.
‘Eugene is an old fox. He has kept his place during some very difficult years. But he behaved with such confidence throughout this trial that I had the feeling he had been prepared for it even before his arrest. I think Richard must have said something to alert him when they met in Dublin.’
The mention of Caroline’s husband took much of Liam’s pleasure from him. She saw his change of expression and knew the reason.
Pushing back her chair, Caroline looked around the crowded dining-room. ‘Do you think we might go out for a walk, Liam? It is terribly hot and stuffy in here.’
Outside the inn, she took a deep breath of air. ‘This is much better. Look at that beautiful sunset, Liam.’
A bank of heavy grey cloud hung above the horizon like a thick dull curtain, but beneath it a full red sun balanced on the distant landscape, sending long shadows across the countryside.
‘Isn’t that beautiful, Liam? I am glad we came by coach. Had we travelled by train we should no doubt be spending the night in Birmingham, the most dismal town in the land.’
She took his hand as they turned along a path that followed the infant River Avon along part of its way. ‘I wanted us to travel by coach, together. It will give us time to walk, like this … and to talk. We need to talk, Liam. To make a decision about the future. I … I have been very unhappy without you.’
Liam stopped and pulled her to face him.
‘You know why I have not spent more time with you. You have a husband. That is not something I can easily forget.’
‘Liam, please listen to me. I have already told you that Richard and I go our own ways. After what he tried to do to you I will have nothing more to do with him. He has never done anything like that before; but, then, I have never before met a man who meant as much to me as you do.’
‘Have there been many other men, Caroline?’
She did not turn her head away, or avert her eyes. ‘No man has ever possessed me as you have, Liam. You take me into another world. I probably should not tell you, but I am not good at hiding my feelings for you. I am sure Eugene knows … and your mother guessed. No doubt Richard did, too, and became jealous of you.’
Liam gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Sir Richard Dudley jealous of me – a fisherman?’
‘Yes, Liam. You have something he has never had – and cannot buy. My love.’
‘Yet he has something I want more than anything in the world – but can never have. You for a wife.’
‘Liam.’ She came to him and he held her close.
‘Tonight we will forget the rest of the world,’ he said fiercely. ‘Sir Richard, Eugene Brennan – and discretion. We will enjoy being together in a place where we are not known and where no one cares who we are or what we do.’
‘Yes, let’s do that, Liam … please.’ She snuggled against him happily.
‘But first I think we should hurry back to the inn. The sun has gone and, unless I am mistaken, there is rain in the air.’
They reached the inn, breathless, as the skies opened and rain drenched the darkened streets of Rugby. Laughing at their own undignified flight from the rain, they made their way upstairs and along the deep-shadowed corridor to Caroline’s room. Closing the door behind him, Liam stood with his back to it. As Caroline turned, he reached out for her, not trusting himself to speak.
When the dawn cast indistinct shadows into the room, Liam still lay with his arms about her. Not until there was continuous noise and bustle from the inn kitchen and the rattle of harness and the early-morning blowing of horses in the yard did he leave and go to his own room to prepare for the coming day’s journey.
That morning a loud and talkative passenger who introduced himself to one and all as Jacob Burke joined the coach. He was, he told Liam, a salesman, travelling to Ireland to discuss with the government the supply of alternative foodstuffs to prevent a recurrence of the ‘shortages’ of the last year.
‘They’ve grown too dependent upon the potato, y’know,’ he declared in a strong North Country accent. ‘Get them used to eating greens and bread and things like that and they’ll be much better off. Before you know it they’ll find they quite enjoy other food. Can’t be good for ’em, all those potatoes.’
When Liam asked quietly where the Irish cottier was going to find the money for alternative foods, the salesman declared airily, ‘Oh, they’ll find the money readily enough when they have to. Folks do in England, y’know. The first thing they think of when you try to sell them something is “I can’t afford it”. But then you sit down and work out the cost for them. Show them how by cutting down on one thing they can afford something else. That’s what selling is all about. Educating the people to do what’s best for them and taking no notice of what they say in the first place. I
don’t suppose the Irish are any different from the rest of us. They just need educating, that’s all.’
Liam wondered how the salesman would set about educating a family with no income, but he said nothing. Instead, he pretended to sleep, very aware that Caroline was sitting beside him, each bump and pot-hole in the road jolting her body against his. He thought pleasurably about the two nights they would spend at inns before reaching Holyhead and wished they could have taken an even longer route. He felt an overwhelming childish urge to hold her hand, but when he opened his eyes to see if the gesture would be noticed he saw Jacob Burke watching Caroline between half-closed eyelids.
That evening, with the coachman heralding their approach well in advance with blasts from his horn, they stopped at an inn close to Shrewsbury. A short while after they had disembarked a post-rider on a well-lathered horse clattered into the inn yard to change horses and bring news of Sir Robert Peel’s defeat in Parliament. The news was shouted from yard to inn, and Liam ran from his own room to tell Caroline. They hugged each other in delight. In common with most other Irish men and women of the day, they held Sir Robert Peel responsible for most of their troubles. Under a Whig government they felt sure things would rapidly improve.
An hour later, Liam and Caroline went down to dinner and found the busy dining-room still buzzing with the news, Shrewsbury was at the centre of a rich farming area, and Peel’s action in removing the protection of the Corn Law had caused bitter resentment here. The farming community expected the Whigs to re-impose import restrictions on corn. They, like the Irish, had high hopes of the new government – hopes that would remain unrealised for six years while Lord John Russell led his party along a path that would all but destroy Ireland.
Liam thought of returning to London to be on hand if Eugene Brennan needed him, but Caroline persuaded him that he should continue his journey. It would be a week or two before the Whigs could form a working government, and Liam ought to be in Ireland settling his affairs and preparing for the by-election that would take him into Parliament.
When they finished their meal they decided to take a walk to sample the delights of the local countryside. It was a warm evening, but the low dark clouds threatened a shower, and Liam went to Lady Caroline’s room for her cloak, leaving her waiting for him in the dining-room.
He was longer than he intended to be, having encountered a talkative chambermaid in the room. When he re-entered the dining-room he was surprised to see another man seated at the table facing Caroline. His back was toward the door, and not until Liam drew nearer did he realise it was the traveller from the coach. One look at Caroline was enough for Liam to see that she was not enjoying Jacob Burke’s company. As he reached the table the reason became apparent. The salesman was drunk.
The man’s arm was waving to emphasise some drunken point of view, and a glass he had brought with him went crashing to the floor.
‘I’m sorry I have been so long,’ said Liam, ignoring the salesman. ‘Shall we go?’
As Caroline rose from her chair, Jacob Burke clumsily lurched to his feet in front of Liam.
‘Who are you? You go and find your own woman. I saw this one first.’
‘I think the best thing you could do is to go and lie down,’ said Liam firmly. ‘Carry on drinking and you’ll land yourself in trouble before the night is over.’
‘I’ll go and lie down when I like – and with who I like,’ said Jacob Burke stupidly. ‘And I’ve got first claim on this lady.’
As Jacob Burke looked toward Caroline, Liam signalled for her to walk around the table to put herself behind him. As she turned, the drunken man leaned across and gripped her arm, sending condiments and sauces scattering in all directions.
Liam immediately took a hold on Jacob Burke’s collar and heaved him backward, breaking his hold on Caroline’s arm. But Jacob Burke was a heavily built man who had been involved in brawls before. Twisting in Liam’s grip, he straightened up with fists flailing. One of them grazed the side of Liam’s face, but before Jacob Burke could follow up his advantage Liam brought his fist up in a short uppercut that landed flush on the heavier man’s chin. Jacob Burke was raised to his toes for a brief second before collapsing on the floor.
Short as the fight had been, it set diners at nearby tables scurrying hastily to safety, and one elderly woman was screaming hysterically when the landlord rushed in, closely followed by a big leather-aproned cellarman.
They advanced upon Liam menacingly until one of the customers called, ‘’Tis all right now, Tom. The man on the floor was being a nuisance to the lady. This gentleman settled his hash for him.’
‘Is that what happened?’ The landlord seemed reluctant to accept the explanation and looked accusingly at Liam.
‘Yes, I returned to the table to find this man pestering Lady Caroline. When we made to go he tried to stop her. I would say you had allowed him to drink one too many, landlord.’
The landlord’s attitude had changed immediately Liam mentioned Lady Caroline and it was to her he now spoke.
‘Begging your pardon, m’lady, but you’ll be Lady Dudley?’
Caroline nodded.
‘Ah! I have a letter for you, m’lady. It was brought here by the post-rider to catch you before you completed your journey. I’ll fetch it for you directly.’ Turning to his potman, he said, ‘Sam, drag this drunkard out of here. I’m sorry you’ve been troubled, m’lady. And I’m obliged to you, sir.’ The landlord raised a hand in salute to Liam.
As the potman dragged the unconscious salesman past them, he added, ‘When he comes to I’ll inform him who it was he insulted and then I’ll pitch him out on the street.’
‘He is travelling on the coach with us,’ said Liam. ‘It could be embarrassing tomorrow….’
‘Don’t you worry yourself, sir. I’ll see the coachman about that. You won’t have him with you tomorrow, and if he makes a nuisance of himself again he’ll be lucky if he gets a place on a coach this week. Now I’ll fetch your letter, m’lady.’
Caroline waited until he brought the letter to her and then told Liam that she no longer felt like taking a walk. She was concerned with the slight graze the salesman’s knuckles had left on the side of Liam’s face and insisted on taking Liam up to her room and washing away the blood.
When she was satisfied, she took Liam’s face between her hands and kissed him gently.
‘You are a reckless fool, Liam. Don’t you realise the scandal it would cause if details of this evening’s incident ever became known? The newspapers would pay handsomely for such information. Can you imagine the headlines? “Prospective MP in brawl over married mistress.” My God, Liam, it is as well this happened here and not in London.’
‘Are you telling me I should have done nothing? That I should have allowed that drunken oaf to insult and manhandle you?’
‘No, my darling.’ Caroline hugged him to her. She had hurt his feelings. He was a little boy who had washed his face by himself for the first time only to be scolded for using too much soap. ‘It was very exciting to have a man willing to fight for me. It has never happened before. I am only saying that as an MP you will have to learn to use words instead of your fists.’
Even as she said it, Caroline remembered something she had said to Norah McCabe about her elder son. “He is an Irishman; trouble is his heritage.” She feared that statement might always be true for Liam. He had an honest directness and lack of guile that would always bring him into a headlong clash with trouble that some other men might walk round.
‘I’ll learn to use words when I have to,’ said Liam. ‘And, talking of words, who would be sending you a letter? I thought no one knew you were returning home along this route,’
‘I told only a close friend. It must be from her. She is probably giving me the news of Peel’s defeat. London will be talking of nothing else.’
But the letter was not about the defeat of the Tory Prime Minister. Caroline broke open the sealed envelope as she was talking to Liam an
d now, as she read, her expression became one of consternation.
Looking up from the letter, she said, ‘It is about Richard. Peel dismissed him from his Treasury post shortly before his government’s defeat. He has been transferred to the staff of the Commissariat in Dublin.’
Liam and Caroline looked at each other in dismay. This was a catastrophe. In times of famine the Commissariat was responsible for the distribution of food supplies to the starving population – and Sir Richard Dudley had nothing but contempt for the Irish people. He would hardly go to great lengths to save them from starvation.
‘This is a final stroke of genius on the part of Peel,’ said Liam unreasonably. ‘Had he wanted to take his revenge on Ireland for bringing his government down he could have made no finer appointment.’
‘We can only pray there will be no famine this year,’ agreed Caroline.
‘Perhaps the new Whig government will offer him another post.’
‘I doubt that. Richard has always been Peel’s man. He would have lost his Treasury post as soon as the Whigs took office, anyway. The Commissariat in Ireland is enough of a demotion for the Whigs to allow him to stay there.’
She looked at Liam unhappily. News of Sir Richard had reminded them of what they would soon be returning to face, in Ireland.
For that one night, at least, the problems awaiting them in the future affected them less than the summer storm rumbling noisily along the Welsh border country. As it turned out, the storm was on their side. Moving westward to the Irish Sea it raged for four more days, making a passage to Dublin impossible. After a night spent in a tiny inn high in the Welsh hills, they had another three nights together in Holyhead, waiting for the weather to break.
On the last night, Liam correctly read the weather signs and told Caroline that they would be able to make the crossing the next day.
The thought of returning to lead their own separate lives once more cast a pall of gloom over this last night together. Not until the grey pre-dawn was upon the hills did their love break through the misery surrounding them. Then Caroline came to Liam with a fierce desperation that left him gasping and her sobbing.
The Music Makers Page 30