by Comfort Me
Anna shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘I just hope it will last when he goes away but I doubt it.’
Her father evidently shared her doubts. On the evening before he left Mrs Furlong cooked the meal with help from her daughters. Afterwards they had coffee in the parlour and Captain Furlong stood commandingly on the hearthrug, looking round at his family. ‘I’m pleased to see that your health has improved,’ he told his wife. ‘I’ve spoken to Dr O’Brien and he assures me that the improvement should be lasting.’
‘I do feel better most of the time,’ Mrs Furlong murmured.
‘Good, good,’ her husband said, then looked severely at his family. ‘When I leave tomorrow my wife will take my place as head of this family. She has my authority to make all decisions and plans. Annabel and Dorothea, you must take a greater part in the housework. Your mother intends to train you both to become good wives and mothers when the time comes and I expect you both to do all you can to help her.’
‘We will, Father,’ they said meekly and he looked at them approvingly.
He turned to his sister. ‘I know you will help too, Clara, and my wife will need your help. You stepped into the breach when Adelaide was so ill but now you must have time for yourself. I’m pleased that you’ve joined the Guild and made so many friends.’
Then he asked for more coffee, as a signal that the lecture was over.
As soon as Anna and Dorrie were alone Anna declared that she was now certain that Dr O’Brien had been advising her father. ‘Otherwise Father would never have bothered to explain so tactfully. He would simply have announced his decision without giving a button whether we liked it or not,’ she said.
‘I was amazed,’ Dorrie admitted. ‘I’ve never heard Father talk like that before. He’s been quite different on this leave, hasn’t he? Taking us out on Mafeking night and everything and spending so much time with Mama. Usually he goes out alone or just sits in his study.’
‘Aunt Clara’s very meek too,’ said Anna. ‘I wonder how long it will last when he goes. Unless perhaps Dr O’Brien has put his oar in there too.’ They giggled but quite by chance Anna had hit on the truth. Dr O’Brien had slid in a suggestion that a brief reference to her brother’s idea of moving her to her own place might make Clara more amenable and it had worked. In spite of all her complaints, Clara dreaded living alone.
Later, when he was at sea, Captain Furlong would be amazed that he had allowed the doctor to speak so freely about his family and to make so many suggestions.
It was because I was afraid that Adelaide had TB, he decided, and as a just man he had to admit that the advice was good. I’ve left my family shipshape, he thought complacently. They needed a man’s hand.
Dr O’Brien was pleased with the result of his scheming when he saw Mrs Furlong so much better and living a normal life but when he met Anna and Dorrie his conversation was all about his nephews.
Queen Victoria had shown her appreciation of her Irish soldiers by ordering all Irish regiments to wear shamrock in their headdress on 17 March, St Patrick’s Day, and the doctor was delighted.
A few days later a proposal that a regiment of Irish Guards should be formed to commemorate the bravery of the Irish soldiers was made and approved by the Queen. The first recruits for the new regiment came from Irishmen serving in other regiments and both of Dr O’Brien’s nephews immediately volunteered. The doctor could talk of little else.
Covert hostilities between Clara and Mrs Furlong were resumed soon after Captain Furlong sailed but they continued to follow his instructions.
Mrs Furlong had been bored and frustrated by her role of invalid for some time, but as Dr O’Brien had shrewdly realised, she had drifted into a situation she was unable to change. Now she enjoyed being in charge of her household again, although she frequently rested on her sofa during the day and most evenings.
She still refused to allow the girls to do more to help in the house or with the cooking, in spite of her husband’s instructions, and instead preferred to rely on Nelly, the middle-aged daily maid. Nelly had been on the point of giving notice to Clara but she became Mrs Furlong’s devoted slave.
‘What would I do without you, Nelly?’ Mrs Furlong frequently said and Anna listened in angry disbelief. What about me? she wanted to say. What about my long, empty days? But she knew it was useless. At least Dorrie had her visits to Mrs Wendell but Anna had been unable to continue her work at the Ragged School.
Clara had been undecided whether to be offended because her work had not been appreciated in the past or to be pleased that her brother wished her to have more free time. She decided on the second attitude and told her friends that her brother insisted she had time for her own life. ‘One can be too unselfish,’ she declared, ‘and people take advantage.’ She spent far more time outside the house now, involved in church activities and with a growing circle of acquaintances.
A bazaar had been planned for 1901, to reduce the debt of the church and the elementary schools. For a while there was a feeling that it must be postponed, because of the death of Queen Victoria on 22 January, but it was decided that as the bazaar was not due to take place for several months the plans should not be changed. A committee had been formed and Clara elected to it and she was active in making suggestions for raising money and in criticising any made by anyone else.
As on other occasions, Anna and Isabel were due to help on the needlework stall and Dorrie was on the fancy-goods stall. There were always fretwork pipe racks and carved cigar boxes on Dorrie’s stall, which made a pretext for young men to flock to her, attracted by her smiling face.
An older woman, Miss Gittings, who had a more noticeable moustache than some of the young men, usually helped Dorrie on the stall and watched her admirers with eagle eyes, ensuring that none left without buying something. She and Dorrie were a formidable team and had raised twice as much as other stalls at previous bazaars.
The morning of the bazaar in 1901 was bright and sunny and Anna, Dorrie and Isabel set out together to walk to the hall in Salisbury Street. Anna and Isabel both wore white blouses and dark skirts, Anna’s brown and Isabel’s navy, and both wore boaters trimmed with matching ribbon. Dorrie wore her favourite blue and a small bonnet-shaped blue hat with artificial forget-me-nots under the brim which framed her face. She carried a basket containing their holland pinafores which they would wear while preparing the stalls.
‘I’m so excited,’ said Isabel. ‘I seem to have been looking forward to this for so long.’
‘The committee must feel that too. I only hope there aren’t any sharp knives or hatchets on any of the stalls,’ Anna said, laughing, ‘or someone’s sure to attack Aunt Clara. Can’t you just see the headlines in the Echo? Tragedy at bazaar. Enraged stallholder attacks organiser.’
‘She’s certainly made a few enemies,’ Isabel agreed, ‘but she’s worked very hard.’
The hall in Salisbury Street was already busy with stallholders and their helpers and many young men. When Dorrie began to set up her stall James Hargreaves made sure he was nearest to her when she needed someone to nail up some drapery. He rushed to do it and Dorrie was thanking him warmly when Miss Gittings appeared.
‘That’s very good, Mr Hargreaves,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Dorrie, have you seen a parcel of pen wipers?’ Dorrie was whisked away, leaving James staring after her, elated that at least he had been able to speak to her.
Soon the doors opened and people flooded in and dispersed to the many stalls, but most of the young men made straight for the fancy-goods stall, where Dorrie stood smiling in welcome. James had been standing nearby, feasting his eyes on her, but the stall was soon surrounded by a large laughing crowd. James pushed through and selected a stud box but another helper whipped it from his hand and wrapped it.
Anna and Isabel were also busy on the needlework stall, although most of their customers were ladies. The bazaar was going well. Money was rattling into the pudding basins on the stalls and the air was filled with the sound of talk and laughter.
A sudden hush fell near the door when Dr and Mrs O’Brien appeared, accompanied by two tall young soldiers. The doctor seemed ready to burst with pride as he introduced them to people nearby then began a circuit of the stalls, his nephews attracting admiring glances from all the ladies.
One was as dark as the other was fair but they were both striking in appearance. When they reached the fancy-goods stall the crowd parted to let them through and Dr O’Brien introduced them first to Miss Gittings and the older ladies, then to Dorrie and another young helper.
‘My nephew, Eugene D’Arcy,’ he said of the fair young man, ‘and my other sister’s son, Michael Farrell. They’re going home to Ireland on leave but they’ve stopped off for a few days with us. We’ve just looked in for an hour,’ he added proudly.
The tall soldiers bowed and smiled and the dark young man held Dorrie’s hand and smiled into her eyes. ‘If I’d known you were here sure I’d have been here when the doors opened,’ he said in a low voice and Dorrie blushed and giggled.
His dark hair grew in a widow’s peak on his forehead and his blue eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes. He was clean-shaven, with even white teeth and a cleft chin and Dorrie thought she had never before seen such a handsome young man. The red coat and uniform trappings made him seem even more romantic.
She scarcely noticed the other soldier, although he was handsome too, with classical features, a straight nose and soft, full lips. Fair curls clustered on his brow and as he and the doctor approached their stall Isabel whispered to Anna, ‘He’s like a Greek god, isn’t he?’
Michael Farrell had lingered with Dorrie, much to the chagrin of the other men, particularly James Hargreaves.
Mrs O’Brien touched Michael’s arm. ‘Your uncle is waiting to introduce you to Dorrie’s sister,’ she said, so after whispering urgently, ‘I’ll see you later,’ to Dorrie, he followed his aunt to the needlework stall.
‘You’re not at all alike, are you?’ Isabel said when they were introduced, glancing from Michael to Eugene, and Dr O’Brien laughed.
‘They’re not from the same family, Miss Jenson. Michael is the son of my elder sister, Bridie, and Eugene is the son of my younger sister, Nuala.’
‘But sure you’re not like your sister,’ Michael said to Anna, glancing back at Dorrie, ‘and you’re true sisters, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, and very devoted sisters,’ Mrs O’Brien said, smiling at Anna. ‘It’s just a difference in colouring.’
The doctor was impatient to move on to introduce his nephews to others but he smiled approvingly when D’Arcy bought some tray cloths and a set of egg cosies for his aunt.
He handed them to Anna and watched her as she wrapped them, then, still looking at her, he bowed and smiled before moving away. ‘I think he’s fallen for you, Anna,’ Isabel whispered. ‘Aren’t they magnificent? So manly.’
The two soldiers were so tall that the girls could easily see them as they moved about the hall and Eugene looked across to their stall several times. One of the older ladies bustled up to Anna and Isabel. ‘You have your tea now, young ladies. Mrs Bligh and Miss Doyle have come to help. No need to hurry. You’ve been working very hard.’
Tea and biscuits were served at the end of the hall and the helpers usually went there for a short break, to sit down to rest and drink a reviving cup of tea. When Anna and Isabel passed Dorrie’s stall she joined them and several young men followed like the tail of a comet.
All in vain. When they reached the tea section the two soldiers were waiting to escort them to a table where Mrs O’Brien was sitting and waving to them. ‘How did you manage that?’ Isabel said in amazement.
‘One advantage of being tall,’ Michael said with a smile. ‘We could see when you moved.’
‘I still don’t see how you got here before us,’ Isabel said and Michael replied, laughing, ‘We learnt that against the Boers and now it’s come in handy.’
Dr O’Brien arrived puffing. ‘I didn’t see you go,’ he said to his nephews. ‘I turned to introduce you. One minute you were there and the next you were gone. Now I see why.’ They all laughed but Mrs O’Brien gave him a wifely look and he said no more about it but told his nephews that it would soon be necessary for them to leave.
Michael paid no attention, engrossed in conversation with Dorrie, his head bent close to hers. Eugene seemed as interested in Anna, although he politely included Isabel and his aunt in the conversation.
Before they left the table the cousins asked if they could meet the girls later but Anna said firmly that they should spend the evening with their uncle and aunt.
‘Ah, sure they’ll understand,’ Michael said. But Eugene said quietly, ‘I think Miss Furlong is right.’ They all looked at Dr and Mrs O’Brien, who were turned away, talking to people who had stopped by their chairs, but the doctor smiled so proudly at his nephews that Michael was forced to agree.
Anna smiled at Eugene, thinking that he had shown consideration for his aunt and uncle, and when Michael said, ‘What about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow?’ she recklessly suggested a trip on the ferryboat over to Eastham Woods. The men politely included Isabel but she said tactfully that she was needed at home.
Dorrie looked doubtful. ‘Will Mama allow us?’ she said quietly to Anna, who was already regretting her eager acceptance. They’ll think I’m forward – or desperate, she thought, but Michael had overheard Dorrie and he immediately turned to his aunt.
‘We want to invite the Miss Furlongs out, Aunt Maureen. Would you ever introduce us to their parents and put in the good word for us?’ He whispered something which made her laugh then said aloud, ‘We have so little time.’
Mrs O’Brien smiled at him. ‘I can’t introduce you to Captain Furlong, Michael, because he’s at sea, but I believe Mrs Furlong and Mrs Jenson are coming to the bazaar. Isn’t that so, Miss Furlong?’ she said to Anna, who agreed.
‘But my uncle is wanting to go,’ Michael said.
His aunt smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see we don’t go before you have your introduction.’
Michael pressed Dorrie’s hand and gazed into her eyes before escorting her back to the fancy-goods stall, while Eugene escorted Anna and Isabel.
‘I wish you’d come with us tomorrow, Isabel,’ Anna said when he went but Isabel laughed.
‘No, I don’t fancy being the unwanted third,’ she said. ‘I’m so pleased for you, Anna. I’m sure Eugene is smitten.’
Anna smiled. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Michael is with Dorrie and I think he’ll see that we have our trip tomorrow. He can certainly charm his aunt.’
‘I think he’s a man who can charm anyone, including Dorrie, but she’ll have to be careful. He might be too much of a charmer,’ said Isabel.
Anna looked alarmed. ‘You don’t think he’s sincere?’ she said quickly.
‘I could be wrong,’ said Isabel. ‘But with so much charm is he just going to use it on one person? Eugene seems different. More reliable.’
Anna kept glancing at the watch pinned to her blouse. ‘I wish Mama would come,’ she said. ‘I’m so afraid the O’Briens will go before she gets here.’
‘Don’t worry. Mrs O’Brien won’t let them,’ Isabel said comfortably. ‘Our mamas will be here soon.’
Mrs Jenson had been friendly with Mrs Furlong for some years, because of their shared interests, but it was only now that the friendship had developed and they shopped locally or in town together.
The girls were busy when their mothers arrived but as soon as they appeared Mrs O’Brien welcomed them and the doctor hastened to introduce his nephews. The two ladies gazed admiringly at the handsome young soldiers.
Michael said softly to Mrs Furlong, ‘You’ll excuse me, ma’am, but I have to say I can see why your daughters are so beautiful.’
Mrs Furlong blushed and preened and she listened attentively when Mrs O’Brien told her that Michael and Eugene were the sons of her husband’s sisters, both from very well-re
spected families in Ireland.
A friend had come to speak to Mrs Jenson and the doctor was now introducing his nephews to a priest so Mrs O’Brien seized the opportunity to whisper to Mrs Furlong, ‘Your daughters have made a conquest. Michael and Eugene want to ask your permission to take the girls on a trip to Eastham tomorrow. It’s very sudden, I know, but they have so little time.’
Mrs Furlong looked doubtful. ‘It’s such a responsibility with my husband away,’ she said. She looked over to where Clara was supervising an alteration to one of the stalls. ‘I don’t know what my sister-in-law would say.’
‘Well, of course, she is a spinster,’ said Mrs O’Brien. ‘You and I, as married women – well, we have our memories, don’t we?’
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Furlong said, smiling smugly, ‘and of course I make the decisions in my husband’s absence.’
Michael, while appearing very attentive to the priest, had been listening to his aunt and as soon as the party reformed he moved beside Mrs Furlong. ‘I have to ask you a favour, ma’am,’ he said, smiling shyly at her. ‘Would you allow my cousin and myself to escort your daughters tomorrow? We’d take very good care of them.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Mrs Furlong said graciously. ‘Your aunt has already spoken to me about it.’ Eugene came to add assurances and Mrs Furlong gave her permission.
‘And now, will you allow us to take you to tea, ladies?’ Michael said and he and D’Arcy escorted Mrs Furlong and Mrs Jenson to the tea area, watched enviously by other matrons.
‘You have a large family, I believe,’ Michael said to Mrs Jenson. ‘And a very devoted daughter to help you to care for them.’
‘Yes, I don’t know what I’d do without Isabel,’ Mrs Jenson said, pleased, and Michael was able to leave Eugene to talk to her and devote himself to Mrs Furlong.
Dr O’Brien watched with amazement as his nephews escorted the two ladies to the tea place. ‘God bless my soul!’ he exclaimed to his wife. ‘Whatever are they up to now? McDaid will think I’ve dropped dead on the way with them.’