by Dorothy Eden
Cathleen had turned to go. Rory took her arm. The light proprietary touch both annoyed her and held her rigid. She thought she was tired of being ordered about by Rory O’Riordan.
“What about your girl friend in Loughneath?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me that’s over already. You were easily enough persuaded not to go to Dublin the other night when I threatened to tell Cathleen about your other feminine interest.”
“You rotten cad!” Liam’s eyes were blazing. “You only made a guess.”
“But you stayed home. Remember?”
“It suited me to. And if you think I’m asking a village girl to this ridiculous party, you have another thought coming.”
He strode away, his head high, the younger brother in a familiar pattern of pique and humiliation.
“Rory! That wasn’t fair.”
“What is fair?” He looked at her with his hard, black gaze. Then he laughed suddenly, his face taking on its miraculous look of easy charm.
“So, to the jewels and fine linen. You might save the first dance for me.”
“Is your aunt serious?”
“Never more so, if I know Aunt Tilly.” He seemed subtly happier, less tense and wary. “You’d better stay,” he said abruptly. “I think it will be all right now.” He ruffled her hair. It was the briefest gesture. “I’m sorry about the rubies,” he said inexplicably. And was gone.
The only thing that was clear now to Cathleen was that it was Liam who had made the furtive telephone call in the library that night. And that Kitty, his supporter as always, had with surprising presence of mind diverted Cathleen. But lately Kitty had been more frightened than loyal. She was sure of that, too.
After the mad day of preparation it was time to dress. All Miss O’Riordan’s invitations had been accepted. People, apparently, would drop anything to come to an impromptu party at the castle. Magdalene Driscoll had been the most eager, for she had arrived half an hour too early. Cathleen had watched her car drive up, and seen her, tall and elegant, with her swathed red hair, climb out and wave to someone in the doorway.
Had Rory asked her to come early? Cathleen, who hadn’t begun to dress, thought of them having a quiet drink together. Suddenly she was as loath as Kitty to go downstairs. It had been all right during the day, while they had all helped to clean and polish, to prepare food in the large, cool, dark kitchen where Mary Kate was a whirlwind, rising to the occasion with true Irish zest for a party, and later to alter the green dress for Kitty to wear. There had been no time to think. It had even been fun. She had thought that this place was too haunted ever to be light-hearted. By some miracle she had succeeded in shutting out thoughts of everything but the immediate task.
It was only in the last half-hour that her tension had returned overwhelmingly. Perhaps it was because the light was fading and the grey evening had its familiar melancholy, the trees dripping in the light rain, the crows returning to haggle and squabble for room to roost on the over-loaded tree.
Something was going to happen this evening. The party was only a bright façade for something else. The bones were showing through the skeleton’s pretty face. Aunt Tilly had said, “What time does it get dark?” and everyone had argued about the exact time, depending on the fineness of the evening, no one thinking to wonder why Aunt Tilly had asked such a strange question.
Cathleen clasped round her neck her one good piece of jewellery, an antique peridot pendant which Jonathon had given to her after Debby’s birth. She wasn’t wearing it because of its associations, but for the simple practical reason that she had nothing else. The stone made her eyes look very green. She felt as if she could have been beautiful tonight, if only—what? If the setting, the circumstances, the man, were right?
And they were all wrong, so that her eyes shone for nothing. The party was not for her. In some mysterious way it was for Kitty.
Which reminded her that she ought to see if Kitty had successfully managed the borrowed dress.
There was no answer when she tapped at Kitty’s door. She had to go in without permission. She found Kitty sitting in her dressing-gown on the side of the bed holding the ruby necklace.
When Cathleen came in, she started violently. Her eyes flew to the door with a look of terror. At once she tried to disguise her feelings by saying rapidly,
“I don’t feel well. I think I’m getting one of my migraines.”
“Kitty, you can’t be! You’ll have to come down.”
“You don’t know what my headaches are like.”
“Then take some aspirin. My head has been aching ever since yesterday, too.”
At that, Kitty’s face went wooden. She fiddled with the necklace, muttering that she didn’t know why she should have to do something she hated, it wasn’t her party, it was Aunt Tilly’s, and Aunt Tilly had never had to try to dance with one leg shorter than the other.
“Kitty, for goodness’ sake don’t be such a baby!” Cathleen exclaimed exasperatedly. “You’ve got a pretty face and beautiful hair. You’re lucky enough to live in a castle and to have a fabulous necklace to wear. Any other girl with those assets would make herself irresistible. There’s no reason why you can’t. So come along. Get out of that dressing-gown. I’ll do your hair and your make-up for you, if you’ll let me.”
“Why should you bother?” Kitty said sulkily.
“Goodness knows why I should bother, but if your aunt feels like some gaiety after the gloom we’ve been living in lately, I think it’s up to us to support her.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, Mrs. Lamb.”
“Call me Cathleen, couldn’t you? After all, you’re going to wear my dress.”
Kitty stood up and let her dressing-gown slide to the floor. Her body was bony and childish. Cathleen had fears that even with the taking in she and Peggy, who had proved an expert needlewoman, had done, the dress would still be too big.
“Really, I believe you’ve lost weight since lunch time. Hold your shoulders up, darling. Push out your breasts. That’s better. You know, it mightn’t be too late even now to have an operation on that hip. It would be worth finding out about, wouldn’t it?”
Kitty whispered, “I’m frightened.”
“Of an operation?”
“No. Not of that.”
“Then of what?”
A brief silence hung between them. Cathleen waited, not breathing. But Kitty had mastered her impulse to confide. She turned away, saying, “I don’t know why you’re doing this for me.”
Cathleen picked up the dress wearily.
“Nor do I. But I’m tired of asking questions. And of answering them. Why don’t we pretend we’ve just met? We’re getting ready for a party, and we’re late. Turn round while I fasten you. I believe the dress fits very well after all. You have pretty shoulders. Now the necklace. Wouldn’t it be a nice idea if you went up and let your mother see you.”
“With this?” Kitty touched the gleaming red stones. They looked like blood against her transparent skin.
“She’d like to see you wearing it.”
“It’s supposed to be always for the eldest son’s wife. Grandmother and great-grandmother left Aunt Tilly several good pieces, but this and a diamond ring and earrings became my mother’s when she married my father. They’re not to be sold any more than any of the land is. It seems silly, being poor when we have assets like this. It’s a kind of ridiculous family pride, just like Aunt Tilly feeling she has to give these parties to show people we’re still alive.”
“Then your aunt must have hated selling the Fabergé brooch.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” Kitty turned away, but not before Cathleen had seen the fear leap into her eyes.
“Should the necklace have been for Shamus’s wife?” Cathleen persisted. She wondered if Kitty knew that Moira was dead. “And then Rory’s, now that Shamus is dead. And Liam’s if Rory never married. Liam comes last,” she added reflectively.
“What would Rory have had if Shamus hadn’t died?”
“But he did. Didn’t he?”
Cathleen bit her lip. She had said she wouldn’t ask any more questions. The crows’ wings were flapping again.
“Grab the necklace while you can,” she said brusquely. “It’s beautiful. It makes you look rich and important and cherished.”
“Cher—” Kitty’s lip trembled. She bent her head. “All right,” she said in a low voice. “I will go up and see mother.”
It was time to go downstairs. Several cars had arrived, and Rory and Magdalene could no longer be drinking alone.
Cathleen paused on the stairs, overcome by an enormous reluctance. Her feeling that something was going to happen was overwhelming.
Peggy Moloney came to hang over the bannisters beside her. She looked lonely and wistful in her nurse’s uniform, too young and lively to be shut out from a party.
“You look nice, Mrs. Lamb. It’s a grand party, isn’t it? I saw Magdalene Driscoll come. She looked wonderful. Even Kitty—you know something. When her mother saw her she began to cry. Truly. She had real tears in her eyes. I almost cried, too. It was so touching, she seemed so happy to see her daughter dressed the way she should be. Or maybe because she was wearing the rubies. You know, Miss O’Riordan had hidden them in the funniest place. In a hatbox in the top of the wardrobe.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she came in one night not long ago and said she was nervous about jewellery like that being locked in a jewel box. It was the obvious place for a burglar to look. She was going to take charge of them herself, she said. But I never did see where she put them until she got them out today. Would you believe it? In that hatbox among all the osprey feathers! Wouldn’t anyone else keep things like that in a bank?”
Peggy giggled. “You know, this place gets me down, but in another way it’s fascinating, isn’t it? Don’t you feel that? It’s like nowhere else in the world.”
“I know what you mean,” Cathleen agreed.
“Last night I was scared,” Peggy confessed. “Miss O’Riordan sat there like a broomstick, never taking her eyes off my patient, and I had the funniest feeling that if my patient ever really began to talk she’d—well, something would happen to her. She’d have to be quiet, do you know what I mean? But then today it was different again, everyone excited about a party as if there’d never been anything odd happening. I must have been imagining things from not getting enough sleep.”
“Did your patient say anything?”
“Only that ‘lie’ thing. I think it’s Liam she wants. He was supposed to have been her favourite.”
Peggy was looking at Cathleen again admiringly.
“I must say you’ve recovered since this morning. You look bonny now.”
“I’m all right. My head only aches a little. They must have stuffed me with sedatives to make me so helpless yesterday. It all seems like a dream now.”
“Were you really pushed down the stairs?” Peggy asked fearfully.
There was a party and a truce. She had promised Rory.
“I don’t know. It all does seem like a dream. Like the things you imagined about Miss O’Riordan in the night.”
“I know,” said Peggy solemnly. “After all, nothing has happened, has it, except that drunk tinker falling in the pool, poor fellow.”
Someone was singing softly, crossing the hall.
“And it will not be long now,
Till our wedding day…”
The dark heads were so alike. But this one was Rory’s. He had a glass in his hand. He had been drinking with Magdalene. Magdalene who insisted he was in love with someone else…
He looked up, his eyes sparkling.
“Aren’t you coming down, Cathleen? You’re the last.”
She came slowly, her face contained.
“Colonel Green’s been asking for you. The young English woman with the beautiful eyes, he said. The blind old fool!”
“Blind?”
Rory grinned.
“Sure, and he said your eyes were blue. We nearly had a fight.”
“Fool yourself! You’ve been drinking.”
“And so will you be, before the night’s over, my honey,”
Cathleen hesitated, wanting suddenly to run away.
“Rory, what is this all about?”
“You’re an onlooker, remember. But you’ll need a drink.” For the merest second the grimness showed beneath his deliberate gaiety. Then he said, “It seems to be Kitty’s coming-out party, long overdue. Perhaps it’s an ill-wind after all. Kitty looks fine. You’re a clever girl, Cathleen, and a kind one. But my God, if all the English had been like you there’d never have been a war, and what would the brave O’Riordans have done then?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Come and fill Kitty up with champagne. The rest of us don’t need encouragement.”
“Is it—important to do that?”
“It’s important.”
The dream had come back. They were all in the drawing-room, the well-dressed, noisy, laughing, people. Colonel Green saw Cathleen and Rory come in, and came forward, staring intently.
“By George, Rory, you’re right. How could I have made such a mistake? My sight must be failing. Never made such a mistake in my life before. Pride myself on my powers of observation. But one thing we were both right about. They’re magnificent.”
“Whatever are you talking about, Colonel?” Cathleen asked.
“Your eyes, m’dear. Can’t think how I thought they were blue.”
Rory had pushed a glass of champagne into her hand and gone.
“Unexpected pleasure, this. Like old times. Matilda was a great hand at the spontaneous party. Drinks at the Castle, she’d say, and we’d all come. Poor Cecilia’s illness has cast a shadow over the last couple of years, of course. But damn it, one can’t go round on tiptoe forever.”
Liam was beside Cathleen, refilling her glass. His eyes had their blazing, blue, frenetic look of excitement.
“Rory neglecting you?” he said casually.
“Liam, I believe you’re jealous!”
He nodded. He looked startlingly handsome.
“I’m jealous of everyone who talks to you, not only Rory. I’m a very possessive person, did you know? Anyway, Rory’s been drinking with Magdalene for the last hour. But I wouldn’t want you hurt by him.”
“I won’t be hurt. I’ve only been interested in finding out about Eileen Burke. That’s why I went with him this morning.”
“Don’t let yourself get taken for a ride.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is a party. No shop talk. I won’t even use the opportunity to defend myself. A slander for a slander, so to speak. Kitty looks very grand, doesn’t she?”
It was true. Now that she was the centre of attention, Kitty must have found that the becoming dress and the jewels gave her confidence, for she was more animated than Cathleen had ever seen her. She was talking to a fair-haired man who obviously found her large innocent eyes very attractive. He was listening with close attention.
“Aunt Tilly was right, after all,” said Liam.
“About Kitty having the necklace?”
“Yes. Why shouldn’t she? Apart from anything else, it will stop Magdalene from marrying Rory for it.”
“Are you telling me that’s why she wanted to marry Shamus?”
“How would I know? She’s a calculating bi—Sorry. But look at that sharp nose.”
Magdalene had her hair piled high on her head and covered with a light gauzy scarf. She looked elegant and overbred and above the useless habit of telling lies.
“I like her,” Cathleen said briefly.
“Do you? Sorry.” Liam smiled charmingly. “I must sound like a jealous old woman. I automatically take against what my brothers like. It’s
a bad habit I have. By the way, I was serious about us meeting in London later on. Kitty, too, if she’ll come. Between us, I’m sure we could turn her into a perfectly normal and happy person.”
“She’s doing that now, without our help,” Cathleen pointed out.
“Oh, she’s had some champagne.”
“No. She’s had the assurance that she counts for a little. Both from her mother and her aunt. It’s rather late, but perhaps not too late.”
Liam was frowning.
“What do you mean?”
“I was just wondering if it were really her aunt who had dominated her—Oh, nothing. Just a fancy. But she might be a little hard to pry loose from the rubies now she’s worn them.”
She hadn’t the least idea why she had said that. She had just become aware of Liam’s sharp, suspicious look when Miss O’Riordan, in black velvet with a drunkenly floating stole of ostrich feathers, that made her look more than ever like an elongated and slightly seedy crow, came swooping down on them.
“Mrs. Lamb! I want you to meet my old friend, Lord Laver. He’s just been having a wildly dissolute time doing the London night-clubs. I don’t think Mrs. Lamb is an authority on night-clubs, Jeremy. It wasn’t one of her references when I employed her.” Miss O’Riordan gave her hoarse laugh. She had on too much rouge, and her thin lips were painted dark red, as were her fingernails. Her eyes glittered beneath green-smeared lids. Oddly enough, she looked neither pathetic nor comic, but sheerly magnificent.
She had developed one idiosyncracy, however, that was disturbing. She kept glancing at the windows and saying “How dark is it? No, no lights yet, Liam, please. The dusk is kinder to us. And why is your glass empty, dear boy? Fill it up. There aren’t any pools around here to tumble in. No one, without God’s help, could drown in the lily pond. Ah, Colonel! Colonel, do you remember that ball we had when Patrick was still alive? We strung lights in the trees, had an orchestra from Dublin.”
“Indeed, I remember. There was Patrick, Paddy O’Connal, Dermot Donovan, Michael O’Neill. All gone now, may their souls rest in peace. That was before your time, Liam. Or was it, Matilda? Was Liam born then, or did Cecilia just have the two?”
“Liam was born later. Oh, he may have been thought of then, how would I be knowing? Excuse me, Colonel. Mary Kate seems to want something.”