by Anna Jacobs
Pandora Carr (Mrs)
He smiled. Conn had mentioned the four sisters, two of whom worked for him, saying how unusual they were and how well-read. This one certainly wrote a fine, educated hand. He’d have expected it to be the husband who contacted him, though.
He’d certainly take up her invitation. He’d never been to Lancashire before and dearly loved to visit a new place. Were the industrial towns really as bad as William Blake’s poem suggested, with ‘dark satanic mills’ belching forth smoke?
Someone tapped on his bedroom door. ‘Mr Ronan, Bram Deagan is here to see you, says it’s urgent.’
‘I’m coming.’ Ronan carefully locked his writing desk and ran lightly down to the kitchen.
He found Bram sitting at the table with a cup of tea, looking utterly miserable. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘She’s dismissed me, sir, Mrs Kathleen has.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Asking you about Mr Conn. She had a window open and overheard us.’
Ronan felt anger surge through him. That woman was as bad as old Mr Largan, harsh in her judgements, cruel to those who served her, but unlike her father-in-law she acted irrationally at times, so that you could never quite guess what she’d do or say next.
‘I wondered, sir, if you’d have a word with her? She refuses to pay me my wages, even. They’re surely owing to me? I’ve done the work, over two months of it, because it’s not long to quarter day.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘My mother’s packing my things, sir – and crying her heart out. Mrs Kathleen says she’ll turn my parents out of their cottage if I’m not clear of the estate by nightfall and they’re to be grateful they’re allowed to stay. What am I to do without my money? I give most of my wages to the Mammy, so I’ve only a few shillings to my name.’
‘You’d better come here. We’ll find you a bed for the night, if only in the stables.’
‘We’ll do no such thing!’ his mother exclaimed from behind him.
Ronan turned round. ‘Mother, surely—’
‘I’ll speak to you in the parlour. And you!’ She turned to Bram. ‘Finish your cup of tea and wait outside. I’m sure Mr Maguire will give you a coin or two to help you on your way, but that’s all he’ll be doing.’
Ronan followed her into the parlour. ‘Are you really refusing to give Bram shelter for the night?’
‘Of course I am. It’d be disloyal to our neighbours to do otherwise.’
‘I thought you kinder than that, Mother.’
She glared at him. ‘Your first loyalty is to your own class and we’ve always been particularly close to the Largans.’
‘My first loyalty is to truth and justice – the same as Mrs Largan’s was.’ He waited, willing her to speak, but she kept her lips firmly pressed together. ‘If you’ll not change your mind, I shall leave with him.’
She gaped at him for a moment. ‘You can’t mean it! You’d turn on your mother and neighbours for a servant?’
‘I do mean it. I was leaving anyway, but this has only brought it forward. I’m definitely going to visit Australia.’
The colour drained from her face. ‘You’re going to him, aren’t you, Conn Largan?’
‘I am. And I’ll not be coming back to live here, either, not after what you and Kathleen have done today.’
She drew herself up. ‘Then may the Lord forgive you, Ronan, because I shall have trouble doing so.’ She turned and left the room, head held high.
He stood there for a moment feeling desperately sad. His mother would regret these harsh words in a day or two, she always did after her temper flared up. But it’d be too late then. He’d be gone. Ah, he’d let a little time pass and then write to her. She’d come round.
He went to speak to Bram, now standing outside the back door. ‘I’m sorry my mother won’t let you stay here, but as I’m leaving today, you can travel with me. In fact, I have a proposition to put to you, a possible job.’ He knew from Conn’s letters that a man who was good with horses would be sure of finding a job in a new country like Australia – probably with Conn himself. And Bram was more intelligent than most. Emigrating might give him chances he’d not find if he stayed here in Ireland.
His friend looked at him sadly. ‘I could hear you and your mother arguing from here. I’ll not be coming between you and your family, Ronan lad – sir, I mean. If you can lend me a pound or maybe two, and write me a letter saying I’m a good worker, I’ll manage somehow. And you can be sure I’ll pay you back one day, I swear to that.’
‘Don’t do anything hasty. We’ll talk further tonight. In the meantime, will you do me a favour? If I lend you a horse, will you take a message to John Docherty and bring back his answer?’
‘Of course.’
‘He’s a good friend, is John, and will lend us a carriage to take us and our luggage to the railway station in Enniskillen. It’s shocking how behind the rest of the world for rail travel Ireland is. Why, they’ve lines everywhere in England, and branch lines even to the smallest towns. Everyone uses that form of transport.’
‘Are you going to England, then?’
‘We are going to England, Bram. It’s only our first stop, though.’ He pulled out his watch and clicked his tongue in exasperation at how late in the afternoon it was. ‘Look, I’ll explain later. Will you trust me and come with me?’
Still the groom hesitated. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, sir? You’ve upset your mother and now you’ll be upsetting the Largans.’
‘I am sure. Very sure. That woman treats her servants badly and I for one can’t stomach it any longer. Why, she and old Mr Largan have even set my mother against Conn, a man we’ve all known and liked since boyhood. I can’t be doing with the hypocrisy and the downright cruelty of it all, Bram lad. I was going to leave anyway, I promise you.’
If Kieran returned, he might give Bram his job back, because Bram was a good worker. But there again, he might not. Being several years older than Conn and Ronan, Kieran hadn’t been one of their group of friends and had spent a lot of time away from the estate since he grew up. No, it wasn’t worth risking.
He saw that his old playmate was wavering and added firmly, ‘I’m leaving today whether you join me or not.’
‘Then I’d be honoured to travel with you.’
3
Xanthe hummed as she cleared up the kitchen. It’d been months since Conn wrote to his friend who might be able to bring some money out to Australia for them. She needed to be patient but it was hard sometimes and she felt trapped here, even though she worked for such nice people.
Hearing a sound behind her, she spun round to see her mistress standing there, leaning on her walking stick.
‘You should have rung for me, Mrs Largan. It’s no trouble to come and see what you need.’
‘I wanted to catch you on your own. Maia’s cleaning my bedroom so perhaps you and I can have a quiet little chat? I’m worried about her, you see. Your decision to leave once your money comes through has made her so unhappy.’
Xanthe sighed. ‘I know. But I can’t help how we’re both made. I always felt we’d go our own ways one day, and I’ve tried to prepare her for it, but she refuses to believe me.’
‘Will you sit down and tell me about what you want to do? Or should I mind my own business?’
Xanthe helped her mistress to ease herself down into a chair then pulled up another for herself. ‘It’d be good to talk to someone who isn’t part of the problem, if you don’t mind, ma’am. The trouble is, I’ve always wanted to see the world. And Maia – well, she doesn’t want that.’
‘Do you want to become a lady explorer like Louisa Anne Meredith? I’ve read her accounts of her travels in the Antipodes and always envied her.’
‘You envied her?’
Susannah Largan smiled. ‘Yes. I was very interested in botany when I was younger and more able to go out and about. Does that sort of travelling interest you?’
‘No, not at all. I’ve
no wish to go exploring wild places or living among savages.’ She smiled. ‘Growing up in the mill terraces with no gardens didn’t give you much chance to grow fond of plants, let alone study them, and I was always more interested in books than flowers. No, I want to see the other countries I’ve read about, especially Greece. My father loved the Greek language and myths so much. I want to go there for him. And then . . .’
‘Then what?’
‘I don’t know. See something of my own country, or yours, or Scotland. Visit Paris. I’ve read that a man called Thomas Cook is taking groups of people travelling to France and Germany. I could maybe go on some of his tours now that I have money.’
‘And where would you live in between your journeys?’
‘I could visit my sister Pandora or rent a little cottage somewhere pretty once she and Zachary have paid us something for our shares in my uncle’s emporium, because to be honest . . .’ She looked round, listening, not wanting Maia to hear this. ‘I don’t see myself ever coming back to live in Australia.’
‘That’ll upset your sister. And what will happen to Maia if I die?’ Mrs Largan asked. ‘She’ll be on her own then.’
Xanthe hesitated, unable to think of an easy answer to this.
‘You must both realise that her love for my son can lead nowhere.’
That was obvious to both her and her sister. Maia wasn’t stupid, after all. But Xanthe hadn’t realised Mrs Largan was aware of Maia’s feeling. Even this kindest of mistresses wouldn’t tolerate a marriage between her son and a young woman from the labouring classes. ‘I don’t think she expects anything to come of her feelings, to be truthful, ma’am. She knows gentlemen like your son don’t marry mill girls.’
‘Expecting is one thing, dreaming is another. If I didn’t need her so badly, I’d help her find another position, for her own sake.’ Mrs Largan looked down sadly at her twisted hands. She wished they’d told their maids the truth about Conn being married from the start. It might have stopped Maia falling in love with Conn – or perhaps not. Who could deny love? ‘Well, your other sister lives nearby. Maia could go to Cassandra if anything went wrong here. And in the meantime, if you do leave, I’ll look after her as best I can. Will that set your mind at rest a little?’
‘Yes. It will.’ Was her mistress hiding something? Xanthe wondered. Why was she talking of dying? Had her health deteriorated? She watched as Mrs Largan got slowly and painfully to her feet and left the room. Clearly the conversation was over.
But it had done little to solve Xanthe’s worries. She’d always been the strong one, protected her gentler sister, and she felt guilty about leaving. But she couldn’t give up her whole life for Maia, much as she loved her.
Two weeks after he left his mother’s house, Ronan got off the train in Outham and looked round with interest, smiling wryly to see that it was looking like rain here, too, with heavy grey clouds hanging low. His travels hadn’t included a Lancashire mill town before and he was hoping to get a tour of one of the huge monoliths with their towering chimneys. He’d not like to live here, though, fenced in by rows of streets on either side and with even the sky barred by ribbons of black smoke from the mills.
He realised a lad had asked him something and forced his attention back, having difficulty understanding the accent. ‘What? Oh yes, I would like a handcart for my luggage. I’m going to Blake’s Emporium.’
‘It’s just down the main street in that direction, sir,’ the lad said, not cheekily but as one equal to another, which was very different from the way poorer people in Ireland talked to the gentry.
The rest of Ronan’s things were in Southampton, waiting to be loaded on the ship. Bram was in London waiting for him. He’d given Bram enough money to look round the famous capital city of England, which he would probably never have a chance to visit again, and his boyhood friend had been as excited about that as a child.
Ronan had written a brief note to his mother to tell her he was sailing to Australia, but hadn’t received a reply. It didn’t usually take her more than a few days to get over a disagreement and he couldn’t think why she was staying so angry.
The lad stopped and gestured to the emporium, which had a handsome frontage with a big plate-glass window to the right of the entrance and a smaller one to the left. The name of the shop was written in big gold letters against a maroon background above the sparkling clean windows. A few tins and packages were arranged neatly in the narrow shop window and the whole of the inside seemed full of shelves containing groceries of all descriptions, some dry goods already weighed and set out in neat rows of packages of various colours. It had the air of a thriving business.
‘House door or shop, mister?’
‘I think it’ll be the house door,’ Ronan said, so the boy used the knocker and they waited patiently.
A young woman with a cheerful face and the white apron and cap of a maid answered it.
‘I’m Ronan Maguire. Your master and mistress are expecting me.’
She beamed at him. ‘Oh yes. Welcome to Outham, sir. If you’ll please to come in and leave your luggage here in the hall, I’ll get someone from the shop to carry it up to your bedroom in a few minutes.’
He paid the lad and followed her upstairs, where his hostess was waiting for him. She was glowingly beautiful, as some women are when expecting a child.
‘Mr Maguire. How kind of you to come and see us!’
He took her hand and shook it. ‘I’m always interested in visiting new places.’
She smiled. ‘You sound like my older sister Xanthe. She’s intending to use some of the money we’ve inherited to travel.’
‘With her husband?’
‘She’s not married.’
He hoped he’d hidden his surprise but he couldn’t help saying, ‘It isn’t usual for single ladies to travel on their own.’
‘I doubt we’re any of us “usual”, Mr Maguire. Our father worked in the mill and yet was learning Greek, while my sisters and I usually have our heads in a book when we have time.’ She sighed and glanced at an open book, lying beside her on the sofa. ‘At the moment, I have all too much time on my hands.’
He could only assume that her sister didn’t share her beauty, because it was normally dried-up spinsters who became globe trotters, a modern phrase he rather liked. He’d met a few such women on his travels and found them eccentric, bizarrely dressed and sometimes rather free in their behaviour.
Mr Carr didn’t come in from the shop to join them until the evening meal, which was served at six o’clock and which everyone called ‘tea’. After that he apologised for needing to go back to the shop, which didn’t close until nine o’clock.
‘Your husband works hard.’
‘Yes, but he loves it. I do the accounts but women aren’t welcome to serve in the better class of shop.’
She’d surprised him again. ‘Would you want to?’
‘Oh, yes. It’d be much more interesting than sitting here twiddling my thumbs.’ She smiled. ‘Most men wouldn’t let their wives near the accounts, but I’ve always been good with figures.’
‘Tell me about your sisters and how they wound up in Australia. Did you not want to go with them?’
So she explained about their aunt forcing them to go to Australia by kidnapping Cassandra and threatening to kill her. As their aunt had already killed her own husband, they’d been too afraid to refuse. ‘But I could never settle in Australia and was so homesick I became ill. In the end I had to come back to England on my own, but I miss my sisters dreadfully.’
It was said simply and quietly, but he could sense the deep sadness behind the words.
‘They’re starting to reduce the travel time now that steamships are coming into their own, and once the Suez Canal is finished, it’ll be even easier to get to and fro. If they prosper, and from what you’ve told me they sound very capable, I’d guess that one day they’ll come to visit you here.’
Her face lit up. ‘Do you really think so?’
&nbs
p; ‘I do indeed.’
‘Then you’ve given me a bright hope to comfort me.’
Fenella Maguire sat stabbing at a piece of needlework, bored with her own company and wishing she hadn’t quarrelled with her son. Ronan would come back, though, she knew he would. Didn’t they always make up their differences?
When she heard a carriage outside, she went to peep out of the window and saw Kathleen Largan get out, her black clothes fluttering in the breeze.
Fenella hurried to greet her in the hall. ‘Are you all right? I thought you’d be resting after the funeral.’
‘That was over a week ago.’
‘What shall you do now?’
She shook her head, frowning. ‘I don’t know. Kieran has told me he doesn’t want me staying at Shilmara. He’s offered to buy me a house wherever I like, Dublin, Belfast or England even, but I’d be among strangers and I don’t like that. I’ve always lived near here. I like living in the country. Why should I leave and go to live in a town, where I’d not be able to ride?’
Fenella wondered what to say to this. Kathleen wasn’t an easy person to live with, so she didn’t blame Kieran. James Largan should never have made his son marry her, because any children of the union might be like their mother, but everyone had supposed she’d brought a large dowry with her.
Kathleen hadn’t had any children, which was perhaps a good thing, but Fenella felt sorry for the younger woman, she did indeed. She’d once promised James Largan that if he died she’d keep an eye on his daughter-in-law. Strange how kind he’d always been to Kathleen. The younger woman didn’t have the knack of making friends, or even of getting on with people. Perhaps that was because of how her parents had treated her, keeping her always at home with a very strict governess. Children needed kindness and love, but Fenella doubted she’d ever had any.
Kathleen scowled down at her clasped hands. ‘There’s another thing I’ve been thinking about. Mr Largan’s wife won’t know he’s dead so I thought I might go and tell her.’
‘Go to Australia?’