For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yes, but the object of this exercise is for you to see how the mistress of the house deports herself,’ said Thomasin. ‘Now, you’ve got that lovely pale-blue dress hanging in the wardrobe, why don’t you run and put that on? You’ve ample time before our guests arrive.’

  ‘Guests?’ Erin frowned. ‘I thought ye said there was just Mr King?’

  Thomasin flustered guiltily at her slip. ‘Well, he did mention he might bring someone with him but it was all very vague. Go on, hurry up, it’s almost a quarter past four. I’ll ring for Amy to help you.’

  Without further harrying Erin did as she was asked and, with Amy’s grudging help, rematerialised ten minutes later in the gown her mother had suggested.

  ‘Oh, you do look bonny!’ cried Thomasin happily. ‘I’m sure Mr King will be delighted that you’ve gone to so much trouble to please him.’

  ‘And why are we going to all this trouble, Mam?’ asked Erin, her head tilted in confusion. ‘I understood he was only one of your suppliers. This is the first time I’ve known you to entertain one of them in your home.’

  ‘I know and it’s high time I did,’ replied Thomasin. ‘You have to put yourself out in the business world, Erin. Butter ’em up a little – that way you get better service.’ She looked at the clock again. ‘It’s nearly time. I think I’ll ask Amy to make a start on the tea. If I get my order in early I’m more likely to get it delivered within the next three hours.’

  * * *

  Joseph King and his son stepped from the cab. The senior left Walter to pay the fare and ran to take shelter in the doorway, hauling on the bell-pull. The rain was coming down in sheets. Walter, having paid the cabbie, rushed to join his father. King was in the motion of grappling with the bell-pull yet again, this time more forcefully. ‘Confound it! Is no one going to answer?’ said the older man crabbily. ‘We are going to get drenched.’ At the moment he spoke he spied a figure dashing round the side of the house, head well down against the rain. ‘You … man!’

  Patrick had thought to creep in the other entrance without the guests spotting him. His heart had sunk when he had seen the cab arrive. His blasted watch had stopped at two-thirty and there he’d been digging merrily away… If it hadn’t started to pour down he’d probably have been later still. He turned to meet his enquirer, eyes narrowed against the downpour, his collar up and his hands thrust into his pockets. Before he could offer apologies, however, the man snapped a question. ‘D’you belong to this household?’

  ‘I do. The name is Feeney.’

  ‘Well, do you think you could inform someone that Joseph King is on the doorstep and no one appears to be attending the bell. Your mistress is expecting me.’

  Patrick made his way up to the man, brow furrowed. ‘My…?’ and then he realised that the man thought he was a servant. ‘Oh yes, sorr! Allow me, sorr!’ He grasped the brass knob and pushed open the door for King and his son to enter. ‘Please to go in, yer honour.’ He bowed, the rain dribbling off the rim of his hat. He followed them into the hall and wiped his boots on the mat.

  King turned in surprise. ‘Does your mistress permit you to use this entrance?’ He took off his wet cape and looked around for somewhere to put it.

  Patrick divested him of his burden and draped it on a coatstand, Walter’s too. ‘Oh, I’m sure her ladyship wouldn’t disapprove if she knew I was lookin’ after her guests, sorr. She’ll be madder than a wasp with toothache when she knows the maid ain’t doin’ her job roight.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I doubt she would appreciate my allowing her servants to litter the carpets with mud from their boots,’ said King, straightening his cravat. ‘Be a good fellow and use the correct entrance.’

  ‘I will, sorr!’ Patrick backed away, bowing constantly. ‘I’d not like to get on the wrong side of her ladyship, oh no.’

  ‘Never worry, I shall inform her how helpful you have been,’ said King and delved into his pocket. ‘Here! Take this in reparation for the extra soaking you’ll receive through helping us.’ He gave Patrick a sixpence.

  The Irishman bit it and tugged his forelock, enjoying himself tremendously. ‘Oh, tank ye, sorr! May your son be as great a gentleman as his father. God bless ye. ’Tis that door ye’ll be wantin’.’ He pointed to the drawing room and watched King and his son enter before grinning, leaving his muddy boots where they stood and going upstairs to change.

  ‘Mr King! What a pleasant surprise, you’ve brought your son.’ Thomasin rose to greet them. ‘Do come sit by the fire.’

  ‘I regret having to force my way in unannounced, ma’am,’ King came forward and embarked on his usual ritual, ‘but no one appeared to be answering the bell.’

  Thomasin expressed horror at their treatment. ‘I’m most dreadfully sorry, Mr King. I assumed the maid to be answering it. I shall have to remonstrate with her.’ She glanced at Erin to see what effect Walter’s arrival was having on her. Oh dear, she was blushing already. Walter was obviously interested, though.

  ‘No harm done, Mrs Penny,’ said King, ‘another of your servants was on his way to the rear entrance and very compliantly let us in.’

  Thomasin looked once again at Erin, who raised one eyebrow. ‘Another of my servants?’

  ‘Yes, tall chap, odd-job man or gardener by the look of him. I must confess he was extremely accommodating for an Irishman – though I should be very wary if I were you of employing other Fenians. I myself made the error once of hiring a number of them. Thank goodness it was only on a temporary basis. As shifty and workshy a bunch of scoundrels as one could meet. And one never knows these days, all these bombings… Walter!’ he clapped his hands suddenly. ‘Don’t stand there like a wallflower. I’m sure you’re just as eager as I to meet Mrs Penny’s charming daughter.’ He trained appraising eyes on Erin, who had suddenly lost that shy smile.

  Thomasin dared not look at her stepdaughter, whose animosity could be felt two blocks away. How could one so experienced have made such a blunder? She should have made her name plain from the outset – if only she could have got a word in edgeways. Recovering herself, she put on a charming smile and drew a tight-lipped Erin up to meet the guests. ‘Mr King, Walter, I should like you to meet my daughter, Erin Feeney.’

  ‘Charmed, Miss Feeney, charmed!’ King was pumping her hand before the name made itself felt. He looked obliquely at Thomasin. ‘But, Mrs Penny …’

  ‘No, not Penny,’ Thomasin was at last able to correct him. ‘The name is Feeney, Mr King.’ The door opened as she spoke. ‘Ah! Here is my husband come to join us.’ King found it hard to turn, knowing what he would see when he did. Still shaken he accepted Patrick’s falsely cheerful handshake with much less than his normal verve. ‘Delighted, I’m sure,’ he said weakly and looking at Patrick’s change of outfit added plaintively, ‘I must apologise for my former misconstruction … your clothes …’

  ‘Yes, he is very elegant, isn’t he, Mr King?’ Thomasin produced a warped smile, guessing what had happened. ‘For an Irishman.’

  ‘My dear Mrs Pe … Feeney,’ bumbled King. ‘Do forgive me, I did not realise.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ soothed Thomasin, then added a sting. ‘If you had you would not be here – is that not right?’

  King shook his head strenuously, while Walter cast awkward glances at Patrick. ‘I must protest. Had I been acquainted with your true surname I should never have made such remarks.’

  ‘And then we should never have known what a viper we had in our midst,’ responded his hostess.

  ‘This is outrageous! I will not be insulted in such a manner.’ King marched to the door.

  ‘One moment, Mr King!’ Thomasin stepped after him. ‘You’re very quick to take offence but not so quick to apologise for the offence you yourself have caused.’

  ‘I did beg pardon of you!’

  ‘Of me, yes, but I was not the one you slandered. I know that my husband and daughter must take great exception to your views on the Irish being workshy, especially as my husband brok
e the Sabbath to attend to his commitments.’ She waited.

  King, without looking at either of them, bowed stiffly. ‘Feeney, Miss Feeney, I beg your pardon if my words provoked offence. Good day to you all.’ With that he made a swift exit, Walter scuttling after him.

  ‘Well, I must say! Mother, ye’ve done some surprising things in your time but ye’ve never before invited such a boor into our home.’ Erin was furious. ‘To be humiliated by outsiders is one thing, but in our own home …’

  And if you knew that that boor’s son was intended as your husband you’d be in even more of a lather, thought Thomasin. God! How could I have made such a slip? But she said calmly, ‘I had no idea he held such views, Erin. You know I’d never’ve subjected you to that if I had.

  Patrick, I’m really sorry.’ She looked pleadingly at him. Please don’t tell her, she beseeched silently.

  He had no intention of adding further humiliation, still angry at his own, though he reckoned he had had his own back with his bit of play-acting. ‘God! Did ye see how it hurt him to bring himself to apologise?’

  ‘Well,’ said Erin, ‘unless ye’ve any more o’ your guests for me to learn how to entertain I’ll be off to my room.’

  ‘Don’t you want your tea?’ called Thomasin.

  ‘I really don’t feel like any!’ Erin banged the door.

  ‘To think I trusted you,’ pointed Patrick.

  ‘Oh, I know, I know …’ she formed a sympathetic expression. ‘I feel really bad about it. I should’ve got to know the man better before I invited him here. It’s just that … well, he does have this enthusiastic manner and I sort of got carried along with it.’

  He nodded his understanding but was still not in the best of humour. ‘Well, I think ye should give the old matchmaking a wee rest. God, to think that man’s son was nearly married to my daughter!’

  ‘I think that’s highly unlikely from what he said, don’t you?’ A cryptic smile from Thomasin. Then she poked him. ‘Oh, don’t give up on me, Pat! I promise I’ll be more careful the next time.’

  ‘Next time!’

  ‘Surely I’m allowed a few mistakes?’

  ‘Not if they’re all as serious as that. She didn’t know about the lad, did she?’

  ‘About him being invited for her? No, thank God. I wouldn’t’ve told her anyway, you know how huffy she gets if she thinks people’re trying to arrange her life. Anyway, listen! I’ve had a much better idea.’ He groaned. ‘Listen, I said! I’ve decided to give her a birthday party. I’ve got it all worked out. I’m going to send invitations to the children of all my business contacts.’

  ‘An’ what’ll ye do if a cartload o’ six year olds turn up clamouring for jelly an’ custard?’

  ‘Stop making fun!’

  ‘Sure, I don’t think it’s funny.’

  ‘I’ll do my detective work first and only send invites to those with offspring Erin’s age – if I can find any that aren’t married. It beats me why I never dreamt of it before; inviting them altogether, I mean. It’s a much better idea. En masse she can take her pick. Then it’ll seem like the choice is hers.’

  ‘You’re not going to surround her with a crowd o’ strange men!’

  ‘Oh, of all the … of course I’m not! Do I look that stupid? I’ll invite some girls too.’ He asked if she was going to invite any of the family. ‘No, this is Erin’s do entirely. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of unleashing our Dickie on a bevy of innocent young ladies.’

  ‘Then who’ll be there to see she doesn’t fall prey to a rogue?’ he asked.

  ‘Me an’ thee, lad. I wish you’d stop trying to blunt my preparations. This is much the best way I assure you. And you never know, you might even enjoy yourself.’ She gripped his arm. ‘Eh, but one promise. Please, please, no more party-pieces, there’s a good boy.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  With the party in full swing, Patrick was forced to admit that it had been a good idea; he had never seen his daughter so lull of zeal as she sang with the rest around the piano – though the closed circle of admirers did tend to worry him.

  ‘Stop chewing yourself,’ muttered Thomasin, smiling and swaying to the music. ‘If you keep hanging round like the heavy-handed father you’ll put them off and all this will have been a waste of time. Come on, let’s retire to the front parlour and let them get on with it. She’s quite safe.’ The piano had been pushed into the back room for the party as there was more space and the doors to the garden left open so that the guests could wander out onto the terrace.

  Patrick was hard to convince, ‘I just want to get the measure of them first. I’d not leave her to their mercy if I thought they were going to make fun of her.’

  ‘And why should they do that?’ enquired his wife.

  ‘For one thing she’s not had the education they’ve had – an’ before ye ask whose fault that is I still stand by my views that women don’t need educatin’ the same as men do. All the same, I’d not expose her to their ridicule. I know what these young people can be like if they sense someone is different to them.’

  ‘If I thought they were that way disposed then I would never have invited them,’ answered Thomasin. ‘I made doubly sure that each of their parents were attuned to our correct surname this time; if they’d held any objection their offspring would hardly be here tonight, would they? And tell me, does it look as if she’s the centre of ridicule?’ Erin’s face glowed as she turned over the sheet of music for the young man at the piano. It was plain to see that shy or no she was blossoming under all this attention.

  ‘She seems very taken with the young fellow who’s playing,’ said Patrick.

  ‘And he with her,’ smiled Thomasin behind her feathered fan. ‘He’s a bonny enough lad too.’ The man seated on the piano stool had curly brown hair and warm hazel eyes, and though he was encircled by other attractive girls his romantic song was directed solely at Erin.

  ‘I think I’ll just have that word before we leave them to it, though,’ said Patrick doggedly, and sauntered up to the youthful gathering as the song finished. ‘Everybody happy?’

  They chorused their appreciation. ‘I should say, Mr Feeney,’ cried Stephen Hartas, the piano-player. ‘A dandy party – and this punch is first class. It’s thirsty work having to entertain this bunch of rowdies.’ His words met with hoots as he reached for the cup of punch that Erin had been guarding for him.

  ‘Don’t let my daughter bully you into providing all the amusement, Mr Hartas,’ said Patrick amiably. ‘As your hostess ’tis up to her to keep everyone happy – and she’s a first-class entertainer in her own right. Ye must insist she displays her talents before the night is through.’

  ‘She has displayed her talents already, sir,’ replied Stephen gallantly. ‘I have never had more enchanting assistance with my music.’

  ‘She’s a beauty sure enough,’ said Patrick, his eyes twinkling at his daughter. ‘But I refer to her talents with the harp – though I warn ye to have your handkerchiefs at the ready for she never fails to set the tears aflowing.’

  ‘Erin, I demand that you bring your harp in right now,’ cried Stephen, bringing forth a blush.

  ‘No one wants to hear me,’ said Erin bashfully. ‘I’m sure they’d much rather listen to you play the piano, and I would too.’

  Everyone shouted their disagreement. ‘We don’t want to listen to Stephen’s amateurish plonking,’ said the young man’s sister with a smile. ‘And please, Erin – don’t tell him you actually enjoy it, or I shall never hear the last of it.’

  Stephen shouted her down and took Erin’s hand. ‘There you are, you see how highly they rate my music? You must comply or I shall ask for a forfeit.’

  ‘I rather hoped we could have some dancing first,’ revealed Erin. ‘Things tend to get maudlin when I play my harp, and ’tis ages since anyone asked me to dance.’

  ‘Oh well, we can’t disappoint her, can we chaps?’ said Stephen to a murmur of accord. ‘You shall have your way, Erin, but I mu
st insist on that forfeit; if we are to dance then I claim the first and last with you.’

  Erin’s head swirled. ‘But who’ll play the accompaniment?’ she asked.

  ‘I shall, if I may claim the second dance,’ spoke up a young man with Dundreary whiskers.

  ‘I claim the third!’ brought forth another, bringing a jocular comment from the girl at his side.

  Satisfied that Erin would come to no harm, Patrick retired with his wife into the other room.

  When everyone had a partner the man with the Dundreary whiskers – Alex – struck up a modern tune and set the room in motion. Erin accepted one of Stephen’s warm, dry hands in hers, felt the other curve around her waist, and smiled shyly into his hazel eyes as they set off.

  ‘I wish I’d had the foresight to claim every dance with you, Erin,’ he told her breathlessly. ‘But the others would never forgive me. You’re the best dancer here – and the prettiest.’

  She clung to him as he whirled her around the room, her lavender dress frothing around her quaking knees. Oh, he was lovely! So attentive, such a gentleman. She had never known anyone quite like him before. He was so much fun to be with.

  The dance was not nearly long enough and to her dismay Stephen was torn from her grip to take his turn at the piano and his dear face replaced by Alex’s who pulled her much too close and tickled her face with his whiskers. After that she danced with Laurence and Henry, Albert and Clarence, while her mind still danced with Stephen. Instead of Clarry’s slippery palms she felt his smooth, dry ones hugging hers. Smelt his clean, gentlemanly smell, his breath against her cheek, lightly flavoured with punch. It seemed aeons until he came to claim his final dance. By that time she was out of breath, her legs were on the point of collapse and she badly wanted to sit down, but no amount of fatigue could persuade her to give up her precious partner and she fell gladly into his arms.