by Comfort Me
‘A two-year engagement!’ Dorrie said in dismay when he told her. ‘On top of waiting a year.’
But Michael said cheerfully, ‘Never fret, darling. I’ll talk him round long before that. He says this will only be a short voyage and he’ll be home in six months’ time, then we can announce the engagement if we are both of the same mind! As if we’d change!’ They clung together, kissing each other passionately.
Anna found all her old resentment against her father’s autocratic ways returning as she saw how hard it was for Dorrie and Michael to keep their love secret and wait to announce their engagement. ‘It’s a farce, anyway,’ she said one day as she walked home with Dr O’Brien. ‘I’m sure everyone in the parish knows we’re receiving letters from your nephews. I know Mama’s told Mrs Jenson and probably other people too.’
‘Your father is only thinking of your sister’s good name, Anna,’ the doctor said. ‘I’ve seen it happen. A girl nearly suicidal after being let down and humiliated before everyone. Mind you, there’s usually more to it.’
It was not possible for him to explain further to an unmarried girl but Anna was already saying indignantly, ‘You don’t think that either Dorrie or Michael would ever change, surely, doctor?’
‘Not for a minute,’ he assured her. ‘That’s true love if ever I saw it but your father has only seen them together such a short time.’
But he still thinks he should order their lives, Anna thought mutinously, even though he knows nothing about it. If I was Dorrie I’d elope.
Then she realised. Even if Dorrie wanted to elope it would be impossible. Even for that she’d need some money and they had none at all. It was so degrading, Anna thought. It hampered them in every way. Their father would not allow them to work but he refused to give them an allowance. ‘You are denied nothing that you need,’ he said and it was true that they had all the clothes and comfort they required.
They chose their clothes and the cost was charged to their mother’s account and their home was more than comfortable. But the girls had no money of their own. The collection money for church was given to them by their mother and any other small expenses had to be applied for. Mrs Furlong enjoyed her power and seemed to enjoy refusing requests, especially by Anna.
Am I unreasonable, Anna thought now, to want to be independent? It doesn’t seem to worry Dorrie as much, even having to ask for coppers for stamps.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she realised that the doctor was talking about her father. ‘You’re fortunate girls that your father cares so much about you,’ he was saying. ‘And he’s a good man, Anna. He came to my house when I was out on a case and heard about the destitution of my patient. When I was at your place with Michael he put a bag of money in my hand for the poor girl he’d heard about. No fuss. Just quietly done when he had a lot more to think about than my patient. I respect him for that, Anna, and indeed for many things.’
Anna felt ashamed of her thoughts about her father and decided that he honestly believed he had made the best possible arrangements for his daughters.
Before he left he confirmed that he planned only a short voyage, which meant he would be home by August 1902. ‘And then we can get engaged!’ Dorrie said later with delight. ‘Has Eugene hinted anything, Anna?’ Anna shook her head. ‘Perhaps when we get engaged,’ Dorrie said. ‘They say one wedding makes another. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we could have a double wedding?’
Anna managed to smile. ‘I think you’re going too fast for us, Dorrie,’ she said. ‘Eugene isn’t as impetuous as Michael.’
‘But if we have to have a two-year engagement as Father says,’ said Dorrie, ‘that would be long enough, wouldn’t it?’Anna smiled and agreed. In her heart it was what she was hoping for but to hear it put into words made it seem like an impossible dream. And yet she was still receiving letters regularly, always with a loving message.
Eugene had told her that he saw little of Michael now and in May he came alone to Liverpool en route for his home in Dublin. The girls were both excited, Dorrie more openly than her sister, and they spent hours trying out new hairstyles for Anna. Dorrie offered all her most precious possessions – a coral bracelet and necklace and her favourite shawl.
Eugene arrived on a Friday night and walked to the Furlong house with Dr O’Brien. He greeted Anna tenderly, holding her hand and gazing deeply into her eyes, watched approvingly by his uncle and by Anna’s family. The weather was fine and a picnic was arranged at Calderstones Park on Saturday afternoon.
Anna and Eugene, Dorrie and Mrs Furlong, Dr and Mrs O’Brien and Mrs Jenson and Isabel travelled in a wagonette driven by the doctor through the fresh green of the lanes and avenues leading to the park.
The ladies had brought picnic hampers and tablecloths were spread on the grass and the food laid out on them. There was much laughter as Dr O’Brien declared himself in charge of the spirit kettle and managed to singe his moustache.
Anna and Eugene took no part in the activities, sitting apart on a rug taken from the wagonette, talking in low tones, but no one seemed to mind.
Eugene spoke more freely than he had ever done about his parents and his four sisters in Dublin. ‘My father is an Englishman,’ he said. ‘A member of staff at Vice Regal Lodge.’
‘Your mother is Dr O’Brien’s sister, isn’t she?’ Anna said shyly. ‘Are they alike?’
‘They couldn’t be more different,’ Eugene said, smiling as he looked at Dr O’Brien’s antics with the kettle. ‘My mother is…’ He shrugged. ‘Languid, I think would describe her but she’s very beautiful. Very devout too. Insists on morning and evening prayers for the servants.’
He laughed but Anna listened in dismay. His family seemed to move in very different circles to her own and it seemed even more incredible that he would want to marry her. Yet he had taken her hand and was smiling at her as a shadow fell over them.
‘You must come and get some food,’ Dr O’Brien said. ‘Food for the gods it is. Can I help you up, Miss Anna?’ But Eugene had already lifted her effortlessly to her feet.
Later, they wandered around the shrubberies and flower gardens, Anna holding Eugene’s arm. She was in a daze of happiness, feeling she must pinch herself to make sure that she was not dreaming. This tall, handsome soldier was smiling at her lovingly and talking about the poetry and the music which she loved and it seemed he loved them too. He said nothing of marriage but it was early days by the standards of most people. As Dorrie said, Michael was the exception.
The day seemed to end far too soon but Mrs Furlong issued a general invitation to afternoon tea the following day. Everyone accepted and Dr O’Brien said jovially to Mrs Furlong, ‘I’m thinking you’ll have a lot of festive occasions to organise in the near future.’ His wife tugged at his arm and he said no more but he was only saying what most of the party were thinking.
Eugene left for Dublin on the Monday morning boat and was seen off affectionately by his aunt and uncle. ‘Tell your mother she has a good son,’ Mrs O’Brien whispered as she kissed him goodbye and Dr O’Brien clapped him on the shoulder before leaving him at the boat.
Everyone was pleased with the way things had gone during the weekend, not least Eugene. He smiled secretly as he paced the deck of the boat and thought of his uncle’s approval.
He had told Anna something of Michael’s family too, most notably that Dorrie would have a formidable mother-in-law. ‘She rules the roost there,’ he said. ‘And Michael is her favourite. I think the other son, Dermot, and his father cling together for protection.’
They had laughed together and Anna was pleased that Eugene had dropped his formality and correctness and gossiped to her. She felt that it was a step forward in their relationship.
Dr and Mrs O’Brien planned to have a holiday in Ireland in June, visiting relatives, and invited the Furlong sisters to go with them, for young company, they told people. Anna wondered whether she should warn Dorrie about Michael’s mother but decided it would be better to let her make h
er own judgement.
The weather was beautiful when they set off. It was the first time the girls had been away from home and their delight increased the pleasure the O’Briens felt. By some means best known to himself, Michael had managed a few days’ leave and he was waiting by the gangway with his father when the boat arrived.
Mr Farrell was a man of few words and said only, ‘You’re very welcome, miss,’ when he was introduced to Dorrie but his smile was warm and welcoming. For the last part of the journey they drove in a trap, with Dr O’Brien up beside Mr Farrell and Anna and Mrs O’Brien sitting together.
Opposite them, Michael sat by Dorrie, his arm around her, and Anna sat blissfully breathing the soft air and reflecting that she was in Eugene’s homeland. The farmhouse was larger and grander than she had expected and Michael’s mother was waiting at the front door to greet them.
‘You’re too fat, Paddy,’ she said to Dr O’Brien as she kissed him, then to Mrs O’Brien, ‘You must cut down on his oats, my dear.’
Before either of them could answer she had taken Dorrie in her arms. ‘And this is the little girl who has my son’s heart broken,’ she said but Michael said easily, ‘Only if her father won’t let me marry her, Mammy.’
‘Ach, leave him to me,’ she said, then turning to Anna, ‘You must be Anna. You’re very welcome, my dear. Come in, come in.’ They were swept into a large hall and Anna could see a well-furnished drawing room through an open door but their hostess swept them on to the back of the house. ‘We’ll sit in the kitchen,’ she announced. ‘It’s where we spend all our time anyway. Kathleen! Molly!’ she shouted and two shy young Irish maids took the girls’ coats and showed them to their bedroom.
‘Don’t worry about Bridie,’ Dr O’Brien said, seeing their bemused expressions before they left the kitchen. ‘She was the talk of Dublin when we were young. The enfant terrible and she’s still the same. It was a relief to the family when she married a farmer and buried herself in the country.’
When they reached their bedroom the two girls collapsed on to the feather bed, trying to stifle their giggles with handkerchiefs.
‘I can see why Michael’s mad,’ Anna gasped at length. ‘It runs in the family.’
‘I thought Dr O’Brien would be offended,’ Dorrie said. ‘But he didn’t seem to mind. Or Mrs O’Brien. Cut down on his oats!’ This started them off again but eventually they composed themselves and washed their hands and faces before returning to the kitchen.
An enormous meal had been prepared for them and Anna avoided Dorrie’s eye when she saw her hostess heaping food on Dr O’Brien’s plate. But she needn’t have worried as Michael was sitting by Dorrie and they were engrossed in each other.
Michael’s brother, Dermot, arrived in time for the meal. Anna had expected either a replica of Michael or a blond giant like his father but Dermot was not like either of them. He was smaller and thinner, with gingery hair. He had a narrow face with a narrow beard and he seemed full of nervous energy. He wore a tweed jacket over an open-necked shirt, with a red scarf knotted around his throat. His mother explained that he had come from working in the fields and would be returning there.
He was polite to the visitors, asking about their journey, but Anna felt that he looked down his sharp nose at Michael. She was sure of it when he looked at Michael, who was wearing civilian clothes, and said to Dorrie, ‘I suppose you prefer my little brother in his fancy dress.’
Anna was pleased when Dorrie replied with spirit, ‘I’m interested in Michael, not in his clothes.’
Dermot grimaced and said, ‘Touché,’ then turned to speak to Dr O’Brien. Michael beamed proudly at Dorrie. His mother seemed pleased too but Anna felt that it was as much to hear Dermot snubbed. Already she could see signs of the division in the family that Eugene had spoken about. Mrs Farrell obviously doted on Michael, but not on Dermot, and at the end of the meal she saw Mr Farrell put his hand on Dermot’s shoulder.
He said quietly, ‘I’ll be with you above in the field soon, son,’ and Anna saw the look of affection that passed between them.
After the meal, Michael and the girls went for a stroll round the lanes and Dorrie said indignantly, ‘I don’t think your brother should have described your uniform as fancy dress, Michael.’
‘Ah, he’s never forgiven me for taking the Queen’s shilling,’ Michael said easily.
‘Why? Did he think you should work on the farm too?’ Dorrie said.
Michael laughed. ‘No. He’s just a Bold Fenian Man, as the song says.’
Dorrie looked shocked but said no more and Anna moved ahead, looking in the hedgerows and at the wildlife round a tiny stream, while Dorrie and Michael kissed and cuddled in a secluded corner by a gate.
After the evening meal they had music and Anna listened, entranced, as Dr O’Brien played the Moonlight Sonata. ‘You haven’t lost your touch, Paddy,’ his sister said.
He shrugged. ‘I’m rusty, I know. I have little time for music now, although I love it still.’
He stood up and said, ‘Let the young ones entertain us now,’ and Dorrie played the accompaniment, blushing and smiling as Michael sang ‘Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes’ in a pleasant baritone voice.
‘Dermot now,’ Mrs O’Brien said when they had finished. ‘I remember you had a fine voice when we were here last, Dermot.’
‘No rebel songs. Remember our guests,’ Michael said in a low voice as they passed Anna’s chair.
Dermot paused and laughed. ‘What about your fine new regiment? I hear the quick march is St Patrick’s Day.’ He sang in a low voice, ‘But join in her cause like the brave and true-hearted, who rise for their rights on St Patrick’s Day,’ then the slow march, ‘Come Back to Erin’.
Before he could say any more, Dr O’Brien called from across the room, ‘Come along, Dermot. Don’t keep us waiting.’
Dermot said to his father, ‘“Roisin Dubh”,’ and his father accompanied him on his violin as Dermot sang in a true tenor voice, explaining first that Roisin Dubh was Irish for little dark rose.
Anna glanced across to where Michael sat beside Dorrie. He was scowling but Dorrie was applauding and saying, ‘Oh, what a lovely song and you have a lovely voice too, Dermot. Do sing something else.’
‘Thank you. I will,’ he said, with a twist of his lips. ‘“Kathleen Mavourneen”, Dadda.’
Dorrie sat, entranced, listening to him, but although Anna could not help enjoying the music she felt troubled. She knew from the Deagans that the dark rose of the song was Ireland and so was Kathleen Mavourneen.
These were really rebel songs in disguise, Anna realised. She saw that, although Mrs Farrell seemed to rule her kingdom, it was a bitterly divided one and the seeds of more trouble were evident. Would Dorrie, so innocent and trusting, be hurt by it?
When the entertainment was over, supper was served, and Anna had more cause for worry. On 1 June, shortly before they left for their holiday, the Lord Mayor, Alderman Petrie, had announced from the balcony of the Town Hall in Liverpool that the war in South Africa was over. There was great rejoicing that the Boers had finally been defeated and Dr O’Brien described some of the scenes to his sister and brother-in-law.
Dermot, who was sitting beside Anna, muttered, ‘They’ll not rejoice for long. England will reap what she sows there in bitter tears.’ Anna looked at him in surprise and he said in the same low, bitter tone, ‘They’ll drive out decent, good-living Dutch farmers for adventurers without principle who are out to make their fortunes in gold and diamonds and by any means. They’ll treat England as England has treated others. She’ll reap what she sows.’
‘You seem pleased at the prospect,’ Anna said coldly.
‘I am,’ he said. ‘England’s enemies are my friends.’
There was a slight pause in the conversation and everyone heard him. Michael jumped to his feet, his face congested with anger and his fists clenched, but Dorrie laid a pleading hand on his arm. Mrs O’Brien was restraining her husband too but Mr Farre
ll went on eating calmly.
Mrs Farrell beat her clenched fist on the table. ‘How dare you, you uncouth, ignorant— I’m ashamed to have reared you. Miss Furlong is English. I don’t know how to apologise, my dear.’
‘I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’ Dermot said, bending his head to look into Anna’s face. ‘Sure, I thought you were at least half Irish. I thought everyone in Liverpool had Irish blood in their veins. Is that not so? You’ve not even a teaspoonful of Irish blood?’
He looked so comical with his eyelids and all the planes of his face drooping in contrition, in contrast to his rakish beard, that Anna could not help smiling. ‘Not even a teaspoonful,’ she said. ‘Many people in Liverpool are Irish or of Irish descent but there are a lot of Welsh people and Scottish and many Chinese.’
‘But you’re English?’ Dermot said.
‘Yes. My father’s family are from Hull. That was his home port until he came to Liverpool when he switched from sail to steam. My mother is a Londoner.’
Anna’s face was flushed but she spoke calmly and Mrs Farrell said approvingly, ‘That’s very interesting and you’re a grand girl to forgive my renegade son.’
‘He’d better not attack the Irish Guards, though, because both Miss Anna and Miss Dorrie have an interest in that regiment,’ said Dr O’Brien.
‘This soda bread is delicious, Bridie,’ Mrs O’Brien said smoothly. ‘I can never get it like this in Liverpool, although I use the same ingredients.’
‘Perhaps it’s the Irish water,’ Dorrie suggested, and the talk turned to safer topics.
For the rest of the visit harmony prevailed, at least while the O’Briens and the Furlongs were present, but on several occasions saw Dermot and Michael together, away from the house, and they always seemed to be arguing fiercely.
Dermot was out for most of the day, working in the fields, and Michael sometimes went to work with his father for a few hours, but he spent nearly all his time with Dorrie. Anna enjoyed wandering along the sweet-smelling lanes, where she was greeted by everyone she met and invited into every house.