The House

by A. O'Connor

  “I’ll be up after I’ve finished this.” He nodded at his glass.

  Chapter seventy-one

  Rory Conway took back the legal documents Pierce had been called intohis office to sign.

  “And that completes all the estates affairs and puts it in running order,” said Conway with a smile. “Thank you, Lord Armstrong.”

  Pierce nodded.

  “So when are you due back to France?”

  “In a couple of days.”

  “I don’t envy you. Ah, but sure you’ll be home again in no time.”

  “Doubtful.”

  Rory Conway thought about Prudence’s visit to him and her instructions to draft divorce papers for Pierce and Clara. He had delayed doing so as he wanted to be sure it was Pierce’s wish. He decided now was as good a time as any to find out Pierce’s intentions for the future regardinghis wife, his sister, his house and his estate.

  Pierce reached intothe pocket of his uniform and, taking out a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette out and lit it. He offered one to Conway who declined.

  “I’ve given up – bad for the health,” smiled Conway, before his face went serious. “As is this war, by all accounts . . .” He paused, seemed to hesitate. “I wonder, Lord Armstrong, if I could raise a delicate matter with you? Have you given any thought while you’re home on leave to put your own affairs in order?”

  “I thought that’s what we’ve just been doing.”

  “That’s just the day-to-day running of the estate. I’m talking specifically about you.I mean in the unlikely and tragic circumstances of you being killed.”

  Pierce’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Seeing his reaction, Conway sat forward quickly. “I mean, I’m sure you would want your wishes carried out and your loved ones taken care of.”

  Pierce said nothing but continued to stare and say nothing. Pierce Armstrong always had a strange almost hypnotic way of looking at you that Conway found very unnerving.

  By way of an explanation Conway continued quickly, “I mean, I know your sister is very concerned about what would happen to the house and farm –eh, estate, in the aftermath of your untimely and tragic death.”

  Pierce blinked and sat forward slowly. “My sister? How do you know? She has been intosee you about my untimely – and tragic –death?”

  Conway gulped, realising the situation he had put himself in.

  Fennell closed the door as he came intothe drawing room.

  “Lady Armstrong, if I could have a word?”

  “Yes, Fennell?” She looked up and saw he looked upset and his eyes were teary.

  “We received some bad news today. Joe, you might remember the chauffeur, was killed in action at the front.”

  “Oh, Fennell!” Her hands shot up to cover her mouth. “The poor boy! His poor family . . . He taught me to drive . . .” Her voice trailed off as she remembered his pleasant disposition.

  “I know. Also, myself and Mrs Fennell are tendering our notices as of today.”

  “What? But why? You can’t just leave us in the lurch like this. Where are you going to? Mrs Fennell has lived on the estate all her life!”

  “I’m afraid there is a situation in the house that has made our position untenable.”

  “Which is?” Clara was perplexed.

  “Lady Prudence.”

  Clara walked intothe drawing room where Prudence and Pierce were in conversation.

  “I’ve something important to discuss with both of you,” said Clara, steadying her nerves.

  Prudence viewed her warily. “Good, I hate discussing mundane matters.”

  Clara looked at her husband. “Pierce, I will not live under the same roof as Prudence any longer.”

  “In that case, when do you pack?” questioned Prudence.

  “I’m not joking here. We have to make alternativearrangements for Prudence. Otherwise . . .” She faltered for a second. “Otherwise, I return to London.”

  Pierce said nothing as he stared at Clara.

  “A woman should test her husband’s love only if she is sure of her husband’s love, Clara.” Prudence sat back in her gilded chair and crossed her legs.

  “I am sure of Pierce’s love. And I know he will back me in my decision that you must leave, Prudence.”

  “I can have Fennell arrange a Dublin train ticket for you – just in case,” said Prudence.

  “It will not be needed.”

  “You hope. And why – pray tell – do you want me to leave my own home?”

  “Because you have been mounting a campaign against me since I arrived. You have done everything from keeping a Christmas card from Pierce from me, to bad-mouthing me in town. And I simply won’t stand for it anymore.”

  “They say the war is having a terrible effect on wives being left at home. Here is a case in point. Clara, you are out of your pea-sized mind. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

  Clara marched over to the bellpull and yanked it hard. A minute later Fennell arrived.

  “Hardly a time to be ordering tea, whilst you are attempting to evict me,” said Prudence in her normal assured fashion.

  “Fennell will back me up. Pierce, he will tell you everything she has done. Everything from emptying the car of petrol, leaving me stranded at night, to taking in my dresses to make me lose weight. To serving chicken all the time, which I detest. To pretending the hot-water system wasn’t working when I wanted to have a bath . . .It’s been a campaign of mental cruelty. Hasn’t it, Fennell?”

  “Lady Armstrong speaks the truth,” said Fennell.

  Prudence viewed Fennell coolly. “I always say you can’t get the staff anymore.”

  “That will be all, Fennell,” said Pierce.

  Fennell turned and left.

  Pierce turned and looked at Prudence. “Well?”

  “Well, what can I say?” She spoke in a cheery non-concerned voice. “Snared like a rabbit in a trap. Never rely on the discretion of servants or underestimate a woman, that’s my advice to you.”

  “Pity for you that you didn’t advise yourself the same,” said Clara.

  “You’re such a snitch, Clara. I hate telling tales out of school. But then I didn’t go to school, I was taught by a series of governesses here at the house.”

  “I pity them with you as a charge.”

  “Mama used to complain I went through them with alarming speed, in fairness. I was smarter than most of them. Anyway, my tricks are in the past, and I promise to behave in the future, scout’s honour!” She put her hand on her heart.

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Prudence,” said Pierce.

  “Too late for what exactly?”

  “I can’t go back to the war front and leave you two at war here. I think it’s time you moved on.”

  “Moved on? To where exactly?” Prudence’s face creased with horror.

  “You can move to Hunter’sFarm for now. Still run the estate if you care to.”

  “Hunter’s Farm! I will not leave my home. I was born and bred here and I’m not going down to that bloody farmhouse.”

  “You have no choice,” said Clara, feeling elated.

  “This house is every bit as much mine as it is yours, Pierce.”

  “That’s not what the deeds say.”

  “I don’t give a damn what the deeds say! I was the one who stayed here while you were off at school. I nursed Papa back after the shooting, and minded Mother when she became desolate and her nerves gave way. I oversaw this place as the estate was dismantled under government act after government act. You were too young, or away in that posh school, or had your head filled with air!”

  “That’s enough, Prudence!” snapped Clara.

  “Damn you!” shouted Prudence. “I never liked you, I don’t mind telling you. I sent him to London to snare a fortune, and he came back with you. Useless, beyond compare. And now you want to exile me to Hunter’s Farm!”

  “It will do you good.” Pierce lit up his cigarette. “You ne
ed to realise you are not the mistress of this house, and you need to start a new life outside that role. Perhaps you should consider Gregory Hamilton’s wedding proposal. It’s been hovering for long enough.”

  “That old fool! Damned if I will!”

  They sat in silence for a while.

  “When am I to go?” Prudence looked down at the floor.

  “Before I leave for the front again,” said Pierce.

  “So soon?” Prudence smiled though her eyes were welling with tears. She stood up and began to walk to the door. She turned and said, “I’ve never asked for anything in my life –”

  “Then please don’t start now,” Pierce cut in.

  Prudence closed the door after her and Clara ran to Pierce and put her arms around him.

  “I knew you would back me. I just knew it,” she kissed him.

  “Isn’t it a husband’s place to back his wife?”

  “Of course, but, I knew you would anyway. Because you love me.”

  He looked at her curiously.

  Prudence came intothe library where Pierce sat at the desk. She had her coat and gloves on.

  “Well, I’m off to my exile. I’ve packed my bags. Fennell has kindly agreed to drive me down. Just to make sure I’m gone, I suppose.”

  “Very well.” Pierce sat back and looked at her. “You’ll still run the farm and draw a salary. I’ve set it up with Conway. You’ll have all the use of the estate and food from the kitchen.”

  “You’re making a terrible mistake, Pierce. Leaving her in charge.”

  “If it is a terrible mistake, it’s my terrible mistake. I think you’ve controlled here for long enough.”

  “I always loved you. I did everything for you,” she said.

  “I wonder.”

  “Right, I’ll be gone. Look after yourself over there . . . war breaks most people, but with some it makes them. It’s made you, Pierce, altered you and it’s bringing you somewhere you would never have gone otherwise. Time will see if that’s a good thing.”

  Clara was sitting in the parlour when Prudence walked in and looked at her coldly.

  “I’m off,” said Prudence.

  “I believe Fennell is helping you move?”

  “I think Fennell has done quite enough, don’t you? Don’t think you’ve got rid of me, Clara. I’m still running the estate and I’ll be just down the road. Keeping a close eye on you for when you fail and I will personally throw you out of this house.”

  Prudence turned and marched away.

  That night Clara was in bed and she stirred and reached out for Pierce but the bed was empty. She sat up and saw him standing staring intothe fire burning in the hearth.

  “Darling, come back to bed,” she said.

  He turned and looked at her. “Tell me – what makes you so sure I love you?”

  She smiled at him. “Because you married me.”

  “People can marry for many reasons, love not always being one of them.”

  “But it was in this case.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Well, what other reason was there?” She pulled her knees up and hugged them as she smiled at him. “I heard you speak to Prudence when I arrived here one day. She was asking how much money I was worth and you told her nothing. I know you went to London to marry a wealthy woman to secure all your futures. And I’m sure you could have married a wealthy woman. But you didn’t . . . you married me.”

  “Maybe I just fancied you. Couldn’t quench my lust for you.”

  She smiled at him. “I heard you tell Prudence you had your reasons for marrying me. What other reason could you possibly have but you loved me?”

  “I see!” Pierce nodded to himself as if everything had fallen intoplace. He walked slowly to the bed and sat on the edge of it and took her hand.

  “You see, Clara, I could let you continue to believe that, but it really wouldn’t be fair. I married you really because everyone else wanted to marry you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You were this Clara Charter that everyone was talking about. You brushed everyone off and yet here you were . . . falling at my feet. Ready to do anything I wanted. I just had to marry you, to get on everyone else’s nerves.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Pierce.”

  “I’m not.” He lowered his voice toa whisper. “And then when everyone said you were to be married to Cosmo Wellesley, well, that was the icing on the cake. Cosmo who I despised from school. Cosmo who took everything I loved in school away from me. My position, my friends, my place. And here was I in a position to take what he loved away. Without even a fight.” He lifted up her hand and kissed it.

  She pulled back her hand.

  He went over to his dressing room and emerged a minute later holding a bundle of letters and threw them on the bed at her.

  She picked them up and saw her own handwriting on the envelopes and, as she looked through them, she saw they were all her letters to Pierce at the front. They were all unopened, and she realised he hadn’t even bothered to open and read them.

  “Do you need anymore evidence?” he asked.

  Clara drove Pierce to the station in silence, staring ahead. She pulled up in front of the station and he got out and took his bag from the back.

  A group of soldiers marched to the train singing, ‘Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag . . .’

  She made no move to leave the car.

  “Aren’t you going to come on to the platform to prolong the goodbye?” he asked.

  “No.” She turned to look at him. “I’ll say goodbye here.”

  “Cheerio then,” he said.

  “Will you be back for Christmas?”

  He looked at her condescendingly. “It’s not boarding school, Clara.”

  He turned and walked to the train.

  When Clara got back to the house she sat staring at her unopened letters to Pierce for ages. Then she took them and went down to the guest bedroom and took up the floorboard that she had put her other letters under. She threw her letters to Pierce down with the rest of them and fixed the floorboard, covering it with a rug. She had thought about burning them, but decided she needed them in case she ever needed reminding of her feelings about Pierce.

  Chapter seventy-two

  The snowfall was coming to an end, leaving a thick coat across the entire countryside. Clara was stretched out on the couch in the parlour, a thick blanket over her, the fire roaring in the fireplace. She lay gazing out the window at the snow falling onto the white countryside and the lake. She reached forward for her sherry glass and finished the drink.

  The doorbell rang and a minute later Fennell came in.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, Johnny Seymour is here,” he said, looking a little concerned.

  “Johnny Seymour!” She was shocked.

  “Hello there!” said Johnny, walking intothe room past Fennell. “Thank you, Fennell. We’ll let you know when we want tea.” He ushered the manservant out of the room and closed the door.

  She sat up quickly. “Johnny! How did you get here? I didn’t hear any car.”

  “I’m afraid I have another driving ban. This very nice fellow gave me a ride. He had converted his carriage intoa sleigh. Very innovative. Hmmm, sherry, just what I need on a day like today.” He went over to the decanter on the round table beside her and poured himself a large glass.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’ve come to do work on that damned portrait I’m commissioned for. I’ve left lots of messages for you and you haven’t got back once.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  He stood studying her. “I can see that. You look awful!”

  “Thanks! You know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”

  “Well, I’m just saying. We don’t want to capture you for posterity looking like shit, do we?”

  “It’s all about that bloody painting with you, isn’t it?” She was annoyed. />
  He sat down on the armchair opposite her and crossed his legs, looking at her as she lay there, half covered by the blanket. “Are you ill?”

  “No.”

  He looked concerned. “Not bad news from the front?”

  “No,” she sighed. “No news from the front at all! As per usual.”

  “Good then! We can get to work this afternoon.”

  “No, I don’t want to, Johnny. I don’t want to continue with the portrait. You’ll get your commission of course.”

  “Not continue with the portrait! Out of the question.”

  “And I don’t want to argue about it. I’ve too much on my mind.”

  “Has Prudence been a bitch to you?”

  “No . . . We sent her to live at Hunter’s Farm for bad behaviour.”

  Johnny roared with the laughter. “Best place for her.”

  “So we can’t continue with the portrait as we’d be unchaperoned in the house.”

  “We won’t be unchaperoned. You’ve a household of servants here.”

  “Half a household. The other half is off getting killed in France.” She leaned forward and filled her glass with sherry from the decanter.

  “Looks like you’ve been drinking a lot of that.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? Sherry – ‘Mother’s Ruin’, as we used to say.”

  “Whatever would London society say? Clara Charter, of the Charter Chocolate family, belle of the ball 1910, 1911, 1912 and 1913!”

  She viewed him suspiciously. “You forgot 1909, I was a debutante for five years in total. Longest ever, or so I’ve been told. You’ve been doing your homework on me.”

  “Just made a few enquiries, that’s all.”

  She sighed and gulped down her drink. “Charter Chocolates! Anyway, liqueurs were always my favourite chocolate. And London society has a lot more to concern itself about now than my marital status. I’m just a distant memory there.” She gazed intoher drink “The only person concerned about my marital status now is – me!”

  He leaned forward with a smile on his face. “Trouble in paradise?”

  She put down her glass and sighed. “I’ll get Mrs Fennell to fix you something to eat, and Fennell can drop you back to your house or the station if you want to head back to Dublin.”