Jean Grainger Box Set: So Much Owed, Shadow of a Century, Under Heaven's Shining Stars

by Jean Grainger

  Mrs FitzHenry fixed them both with a gaze for a split second as if she were sizing them up and making a judgement. Liam noticed her eyes, they were almost transparent as if they would change depending on where she was. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something strange about her. She definitely wasn’t like anyone’s mother that he knew, but it was something else. Mentally chastising himself, he tried to push those feelings from his mind. His mother and father brought him up not to judge people before you knew them, so perhaps, it was just that she was different from anyone he had ever met before. Hugo was a great lad and she reared him, so she couldn’t be that bad. He wondered what his parents would make of this place. Mammy would probably be tongue-tied, nervous as he was, but Daddy would take it all in his stride. What he would give to be able to go home and tell him about the butler and the big avenue and everything. With a pain that was almost physical in its sharpness, Liam realised once again that he would never get to go home and tell Daddy about anything. Every time he forgot his father was dead, though over three years had passed, the realisation came upon him like an icy-cold wave of misery crashing over him, almost drowning him.

  ‘Patterson, take the boys’ things to their rooms and we shall take tea in the morning room, I think. Despite its name, it’s the nicest room for the evening sun, isn’t it, Hugo?’ She took Hugo’s arm and led them into the house. She kept up a stream of prattle as they walked through the hallway, the walls of which were adorned with huge oil paintings of people from long ago. Their feet sank into the deep pile runner, which covered the polished mahogany floor. In the recesses of the walls, ornate vases and pieces of sculpture sat on carved plinths. There was even a full suit of armour. Hugo’s mother must have noticed the boys staring in amazement because she stopped at one of the portraits.

  ‘Dreadful, aren’t they? So dark and dreary, but William, my late husband, wouldn’t hear of them being removed. There are over a hundred portraits in total so I’m afraid there’s no avoiding them. I have tried to dilute the effect with some nice watercolours and so on, but it’s an uphill climb. They are all members of the FitzHenrys since they came here in the 1600s. My late husband was inordinately proud of them, especially him.’ She smiled, indicating a painting of a man dressed in a long cloak with an ermine collar and carrying a huge sword.

  ‘They apparently resisted every attempt made by the British crown to force them to convert from Catholicism to Protestantism. They were threatened with their lands being confiscated and all sorts but ultimately the crown knew that the FitzHenrys were both powerful and popular and to alienate them would do more harm than good. Besides, they’re intermarried with almost all the titled families in Ireland so they never wanted to open that particular can of worms. But I’m sure Hugo is always going on about his ancestors, he and his father would spend hours discussing this one and that one. I switched off to be honest.’

  Liam and Patrick caught Hugo’s eye. They knew he was wealthy but this was beyond their wildest imaginings.

  ‘Not really, Mother, it’s not the sort of thing one talks about at school.’ He smiled, glad to have the upper hand for once. Usually, it was Patrick or Liam explaining how things were to Hugo. No wonder he found their way of life so confusing, this place was so far removed from Chapel Street it might as well have been on another planet.

  ‘Really?’ She seemed surprised. ‘You and Papa did so love discussing it I would have thought you’d have your friends bored senseless with the FitzHenrys and their exploits.’

  As they carried on past rooms, Liam spotted a grand piano and a huge fireplace in one and a massive dining table in another, set for loads of people. They passed a girl about their age, dressed in the same grey-and-black uniform of the other man. She stood back into an alcove to allow them to pass, her eyes downcast.

  Hugo stopped beside her, ‘Hello, Martha,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Good afternoon, Master Hugo, and welcome home, sir.’ She curtseyed.

  Hugo winked at her, and she smiled conspiratorially.

  Liam suddenly felt very foolish thinking about his mother’s efforts to make their house look nice when Hugo came, having good cutlery or using paper napkins. He must have thought, well, Liam couldn’t begin to imagine what he must have thought.

  At the end of a corridor, Hugo’s mother opened another enormous door and entered a room decorated in various shades of yellow and gold. Huge windows overlooked another garden, full of roses this time, and heavy drapes on either side were held back with what looked like golden ropes. Hugo was right that St Bart’s was a little bit bigger but that’s where the similarities ended. Everything in St Bart’s was worn and sparse, hard surfaces and functional furniture. This place looked like a palace that he had seen pictures of in a story book. On a side table was a silver tea pot and delicate china cups and a huge plate of pastries and sandwiches. Hugo descended on the plate happily.

  ‘Mrs O’Brien’s scones, oh how I’ve missed them,’ he said, slathering one in butter, jam and cream before even the tea was served.

  The man they called Patterson appeared and poured.

  ‘If you were this slow at St Bart’s, you’d go hungry!’ Hugo teased them as they stood, unsure of what to do.

  The scones and little sandwiches were delicious and the tea was welcome after the long journey. The butler gave them each a plate and they helped themselves.

  ‘Thank you, Patterson. So, Liam, you first, tell me all about yourself.’ Mrs FitzHenry fixed him with a quizzical eye. Liam couldn’t help but feel he was being tested to see if he was a suitable friend.

  ‘Well,’ he began, determined to give a good account of himself. He tried to imagine his father was sitting beside him, the thought gave him confidence. ‘I’m from Cork city, I live just down the hill from school, we both do,’ he added, nodding in Patrick’s direction. ‘I live with my mother, but I do have an older brother and three older sisters. They’ve all left home now, though.’

  ‘And Hugo tells me that your father sadly has passed away, also?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, he was over in England, working, and he was in an accident.’ Liam still found the words hard to say.

  ‘That’s dreadful, how tragic for your family. You must miss him. And how about you, Patrick?’ She smiled, turning her attention away from Liam. It felt like a bit of the light was gone from the room.

  ‘I live across the road from Liam, his mam and mine are friends. My father is alive, more’s the pity,’ Patrick added sardonically, and Liam watched Hugo’s mother for a reaction.

  She burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Patrick, you are funny! Hugo did mention something about him in one of his letters.’ Hugo went puce with embarrassment. Bad as Mr Lynch was, he didn’t want Patrick to think that he discussed his friend’s private family business in his letters home.

  Patrick didn’t mind. Everyone knew what Joe Lynch was like anyway, there was no point in trying to hide it. He gave Hugo a grin to indicate everything was fine.

  ‘And your mother?’ she went on. ‘What is she like?’ She leaned forward in her chair, anxious to hear the latest instalment from the Lynch family.

  Patrick seemed to relax then, Mrs FitzHenry seemed fascinated with him.

  ‘Ah, Mam is great, she’s got a lot to put up with, but she does her best for us. She works very hard,’ he added.

  ‘Well, your father may be a little trying at times, but he must be a handsome man to have produced such a son.’

  Patrick held her gaze as she smiled a funny smile at him. Liam was bewildered with what was going on, but one thing was clear, Patrick was definitely Hugo’s mother’s favourite of the two new visitors. He knew Patrick was better looking than him; females of all ages it would seem were drawn to him. Sometimes, Liam wished he looked more like his friend, tall and muscular with almost-black hair and skin that tanned easily in the summer. His dark-green eyes held Hugo’s mother’s gaze. Liam would have been mortified if she’d looked at him li
ke that, but Patrick was used to it. The girls always stopped to look at them, whispering to each other as they walked home from school, and Liam knew for certain it wasn’t him they were interested in. Patrick smiled and flirted with them a bit, though if his mother knew, she’d murder him. He even met up with a girl called Josie Quinn down in the park a few weekends ago. Liam listened to the details of the kissing that went on with mixed emotions. On one level, he was fascinated by the whole idea, but he couldn’t help feeling that he was losing his friend to a world he knew nothing about. Apparently, a friend of Josie’s thought he was nice, according to Patrick anyway, but Liam wasn’t interested. He couldn’t understand what was so great about girls. Con, and now Patrick, seemed to be always going on about them, and who was nice looking and who wasn’t. Anyway, he’d have no idea what to say to one, and as for the kissing business, that filled him with terror.

  Mrs FitzHenry chatted on, mostly to Patrick and Hugo while Liam took in the surroundings. He knew from the way he went on that Hugo was in a whole other league from them, but this house was beyond even the regular speculation he and Patrick indulged in before the visit. Everyone at St Bart’s wore a uniform and while Hugo’s was brand new and not a hand-me-down as his and Patrick’s, everyone looked more or less the same. Hugo always had money for the tuck shop as well and was really generous to his two friends, buying them exactly what he got for himself. He seemed so grateful for the weekly visits to Liam’s house and was thrilled when Mrs Lynch could come in after dinner on her way home from her cleaning jobs to have a cup of tea with them before Hugo went back to school. He chatted so easily with them all, fascinated with the details of their lives and never once looking down his nose. It seemed incredible that he would come from a place like this. He even started peppering his speech with Cork slang, calling his mother his mam and adopting the sing-song accent of the city. Liam noticed it often but, unlike Patrick, didn’t tease him about it.

  Liam watched Hugo soak up the atmosphere of the home he so clearly loved. He saw his gaze land on a framed photograph on a side table as his mother chatted with Patrick about the priests in St Bart’s. It was modest in its proportions unlike the other huge portraits and hunting scenes, and it was of a man in a military uniform. He was undoubtedly Hugo’s father—he had the same baby face and blond hair—and even though he looked serious in the photo, his vivid blue eyes and the laughter lines on his face still made him look cheerful. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes as he looked at the photo and knew exactly how he felt. He’d love a photo of Daddy in a frame like that. Mammy said it was her only regret that they couldn’t afford a photographer on their wedding day. Especially now, after everything that happened. He wished Mammy had a lovely picture of Daddy to put on the mantelpiece. No one in the family had a camera so there were none in existence except a group one at a wedding a few years ago. Daddy and Mammy were in the back row so it was hard to distinguish his features. Liam kept it beside his bed anyway, it was better than nothing.

  Mrs FitzHenry rose to go. ‘Now, gentlemen, I’m so sorry, but I must leave you. I have to attend a village committee meeting about fundraising for the church roof. If William were alive, he’d just write them a cheque, but one has to be so careful not to tread on toes and suchlike. He was so much better at dealing with people than me. But then, he was Irish and understood them better. I don’t think I have quite the same touch. Still, one must try. Hugo, I’m trusting you to be the perfect host, show the boys around and Patterson will ensure you have everything you need. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask. Hugo has often told me how kind you both have been to him and how your mothers have shown him such hospitality. I really am grateful. Perhaps we could all meet the next time I am in Cork. It would be lovely to put faces to the names as it were.’

  Liam and Patrick must have looked appalled at the prospect of Lily Auden-FitzHenry visiting the small terraced houses under the Goldie Fish because Hugo started laughing.

  ‘Excellent idea, Mother, we’ll arrange it,’ he said with a grin, enjoying his friends’ discomfort.

  She kissed each of them on the cheek once more and swept out of the room.

  Left alone in the morning room with his friends, Liam relaxed for the first time since he left home.

  ‘I can tell you now, Hugo boy. If you ever bring your mam to my house, my mam would need an ambulance for the shock so don’t do it to her!’ Patrick was only half-joking.

  ‘Don’t worry, she never goes to Cork. She’s biding her time till I get back here to run the place, and she’ll be off back to London. She’s a city girl, my mother, hates country life and while she has done her best, out of respect to my father, she can’t wait to escape.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re sure because no amount of polishing or cleaning would bring my place up to standard. Jays Hugo, this is some gaff you have!’ Patrick joked. ‘We knew you were loaded, but we’d no idea that you really were the Lord of the Manor! I can’t imagine what you must think of our houses, coming out of this place. We’d never have asked you if we’d known, sure we wouldn’t, Liam?’ Patrick nudged him to play along.

  ‘Lord no, and there was my poor mam pulling out the good forks for Hugo was coming! Seriously though, are you really a lord or something?’ Liam smiled.

  ‘An earl, actually, it’s a hereditary title so I became Earl of Drummond when my father died. Not something that I want bandied about school, though. They think I’m enough of a posh git, as you two might say, already.’ Hugo smiled. ‘Now, do you two want the tour of the old pile or not?’

  They followed Hugo into more rooms than they could count, each one decorated beautifully and filled with antiques and paintings. Then he took them outside to the stables where horses looked suspiciously out of their stalls.

  ‘Would you like to have a go?’ Hugo asked.

  ‘Of what? Riding them?’ Patrick was incredulous, but Liam could see he would love to. He hoped that Patrick wouldn’t want to and then they could just take a walk, they looked huge.

  ‘If you like. What do you think, Liam?’ Hugo asked.

  ‘I dunno, Hugo. I never was even near a horse before. They look a bit...’ Liam didn’t want to look like a sissy in front of his friends but he was terrified.

  ‘I’ll give you Delia, she’s lovely, and she won’t run away on you or anything. I learned to ride on her and never fell off, not even once.’

  Hugo led them into a room that was full of shiny leather things for saddling horses. One by one, he handed all manner of straps and saddles to the boys and proceeded to expertly put them on the three horses. The grey one, called Delia, while the smallest of the three was still gigantic. She stood quietly while Hugo tacked her up. He gave them each a pair of boots into which Liam and Patrick tucked their trousers as Hugo showed them. Leading the horse over to a low wall, he instructed Liam how to get up on the horse’s back. He scrambled up, trying to hide his terror and once he was seated, he realised how far away the ground was.

  ‘Don’t worry, Liam, we’ll go very slowly and, honestly, she’s a sweetheart, just grab a bit of her mane as well as the reins and keep your heels down and your legs around her and you’ll be fine.’ Hugo chuckled at his discomfiture and went to set Patrick up on a big black horse that kept doing something strange with his nostrils, like he was trying to blow his nose. He wasn’t as happy as Delia to stand quietly so he pranced and whinnied as Hugo got all the things on him. Patrick didn’t look one bit scared and Liam wondered, not for the first time, at their friendship. They were thrown together by the scholarship, and the whole experience of school had cemented their relationship, but Patrick was so much tougher, braver, and more adventurous than he was. He supposed he had to be, with his father like he was. Mrs Lynch didn’t watch him the way Mammy watched him, and sometimes he envied all the freedom his friend had. He did well at school and was determined to get a good job and get himself and his family away from his f
ather, and Liam knew he would do it. For all his bravado though, Patrick was kind, he often talked about Daddy and how great he was, and he always included Liam when he was chatting to older lads or even girls. He was kind of a hero in school since they won the Harty cup, all due to Patrick’s winning point in the dying seconds of the game. Liam was on the team, as well, and he did his best, but his ability was born out of sheer slogging rather than natural flair. Daddy always said that one day Patrick would be a brilliant hurler, just like his father was before the drink took hold of him, Liam remembered, smiling with satisfaction as they lifted the cup—his father had been right.

  Eventually, Patrick was up on his horse, and he walked him over to where Liam and Delia stood.

  ‘What ya think of this, Liam boy? Aren’t we a right pair of toffs up on our horses?’ He was laughing with the exhilaration of it all.

  ‘I’m scared stiff. I haven’t a clue what to do. If this thing takes off, I’ll lose my life.’ Liam didn’t need to pretend around Patrick.

  ‘Sure, I’m the same but ‘tis a bit of craic, yerra we’ll go slow and sure what’s the worst that can happen? You’ll fall off! You’ve had more belts and flakes playing hurling. You’ll be grand.’

  Hugo came up beside them, having leapt up effortlessly on an even more enormous grey horse that kept going backwards and then forwards. Hugo seemed oblivious to it though and chatted easily. Liam thought he had never seen a more malevolent looking creature in his life.

  ‘Righto, are we ready?’ Hugo seemed so relaxed, so at home in the saddle. ‘I think we’ll go down via the pleasure gardens and round through the woods. Try to stay on the path as we go down though because the gardener will go mad if there are hoofmarks on the lawn. Once we get to the woods, we can do what we like. There might be a few old trees down if you want to try a jump or two.’