“You believe yourself a magician?”
“I suggest you tell your family – in front of your son’s family by marriage – that you are having your own nursery taken out of storage and moved into these rooms.”
“I don’t give a tinker’s curse for the opinion of a crowd of snobby twits.” William walked over to stand almost toe to toe with her, glaring down at the cheeky upstart.
“That is patently not true.” Ivy wished she was wearing her old black skirt so she could shove her hands into the deep pockets and pinch herself. She needed something to hold onto, to steady her nerves. It seemed obvious to her – when she was planning this visit – that this man intended to establish himself as a leading member of Ireland’s new ruling class. What she had to offer would be of value to him. She just had to hold on to her nerve. “You have established your own power base, certainly. What I’m offering will simply ‘gild the lily’ of your family background. Your son will benefit greatly, as will the expected child and any children that follow.” Ivy raised her chin and stared up at the man trying to intimidate her with his height and power.
“What exactly are you offering me, young woman?” William demanded. “In basic terms, it’s time to piss or get off the pot.” He was being deliberately vulgar – he didn’t like feeling at a disadvantage.
“I have at my disposal not only enough furniture, books, toys and musical instruments to furnish these rooms completely but also a lovely old English nanny.” She hadn’t asked the old woman but Nanny Grace had been abandoned by the family she’d served for almost sixty years. The old woman could not survive on her pitiful savings. “I am sure Nanny Grace will be thrilled to tell delightful little tales about her beloved Master William as a child.” Ivy had played all of her cards.
“And if I should be fool enough to take up this offer, how much will it cost me?” William asked after what, to Ivy, had been a prolonged pause.
Ivy mentioned a figure that had William gaping at her. It was an astronomical price.
“That is robbery, young woman. I could purchase a bloody house with that amount.”
“Yes, you could.” Just voicing the amount of money she wanted made Ivy feel weak. The money would set Nanny Grace up for the rest of her days. Ivy’s share would make a nice addition to her bank account. “A two-up two-down in a bad area of town but a house none the less.” She took a deep breath and continued. “However, we both know to completely furnish these rooms would cost you twice that amount. Besides, what I am offering is the kind of roots you want for your family. You’ve bought yourself respectability. What I’m offering will add to your mystique around this town.”
“We need to talk further – in more comfort than can be found here. Let us get out of this cold room.” William was willing to listen. “I want to hear the whole story behind your offer.” It would be worth it to him to pay the outrageous price she was asking. If – and it was a big if – she could deliver what she offered.
“The price you’re asking is ridiculous.” William stood and walked over to the modern bar unit he’d recently had built into his study. He served himself a whiskey.
“I won’t argue about the price,” Ivy stood and, without asking permission, used the bar tap she’d noticed to wash the dust from her hands. “That is non-negotiable.” She glared into his eyes to underscore her determination to get the best price possible. “You can well afford it and what I’m offering is beyond price and we both know it.”
“I’ll need to meet this Nanny Grace and see these wonders you’re trying to sell me.” He returned to the fireside and stood waiting until she joined him in the chair facing his. He sipped his whiskey. She’d refused his offer of something to drink. “Unlike you, apparently, I never fly by the seat of my pants.”
“All appearances to the contrary,” Ivy mumbled under her breath.
“Let us not descend into insult.” William’s mind was whirling with the possibilities – if this woman could supply what she offered he had to plan on the presentation carefully.
“There is nothing worth keeping in those rooms upstairs, I think you’ll agree. With your permission I can send a team to clear out the rooms and haul the rubbish away.” Ivy had everything at hand to make this move work quickly and efficiently. “If the clutter of years is removed before your staff begin cleaning it will speed the process of preparing the rooms for decoration.” That didn’t mean she couldn’t make a few pennies from some of the stuff they removed.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” William snapped.
“I’ll explain the situation to Nanny Grace.” She ignored his words. They both knew he was going to accept what she offered. Tomorrow was her day for visiting Fitzwilliam Square – she’d talk to Nanny Grace. She couldn’t see the old girl refusing to play along. The woman desperately needed somewhere to live out the rest of her days. “You will need to employ at least two young women as nannies for your grandchild. Nanny Grace can train them and instruct them in organising the rooms. In Nanny Grace you will also have at your disposal a woman who has decades of knowledge of the private lives of the gentry.” The servants’ gossip Nanny Grace had accumulated over the years would be an invaluable source of insider information for this man and they both knew it.
“I’ll agree to your team clearing the space.” That was work that needed to be done anyway. “We can discuss the matter further when you’ve shown me what it is exactly that you are offering.” William was becoming more intrigued by the minute. He could afford the price she asked but he wasn’t a fool. He needed to see the items with his own eyes, meet the woman who would claim knowledge of his own childhood.
“I’ve been here longer than I intended.” She stood up and stepped away from the fire. She’d achieved what she’d wanted and it was time to leave. “My telephone number is on my business card. If you’d be good enough to telephone and provide a time convenient to you I’ll arrange a showing.”
William too stood and stared down at her, almost as if trying to see inside her head. “You had better be as good as your word. I do not like wasting my time.”
“I’m confident you’ll appreciate everything I’ve spoken of.” She wanted to get away from this man. She’d made her offer and now felt the need to lie down in a darkened room and have a nervous breakdown. She’d secured a home for Nanny Grace – she’d done it. “I’ll have a team in to clear those rooms tomorrow.” He would see the quality of what she offered himself. Time was of the essence. She needed to get Nanny settled into her new home. The old woman’s health was going downhill since she’d been abandoned. “As soon as you agree to my terms and inform me the rooms upstairs are ready, I will have a team deliver and place the furniture. The team are mine – they will not speak of anything they have seen and done.” She could guarantee that. Jem’s teams were being well trained and discretion was head of a long list of instructions they received.
“You talk a good game, young woman,” William said just as a knock sounded on the study door.
“Come in.” He stepped away, leaving a space between them.
“The young lady’s car is here, sir.” Chiles stepped into the room. He had been frustrated in his efforts to find out what was going on under his roof – an intolerable situation.
“Thank you, Chiles.” Ivy picked up her bag and gloves from the desk and turned to walk out of the room.
“Well?” Jem couldn’t wait any longer.
“Give us a minute, Jem – me nerves are shot.” Ivy was trying to stop the shaking that had attacked her body. “Where’s Emmy? Is she with Ann Marie?”
“I’m here, Aunty Ivy.” The blanket on the floor between the front and back seats moved. A pair of dazzling green eyes gleamed up from the dark space. A gleaming grin soon joined them. “Can I get up now, Uncle Jem?”
“I should have known you’d be in the middle of this.” Ivy grinned as Emmy Ryan, with permission from her adoptive uncle, climbed up to join her on the back seat.
“John Lawl
ess said Uncle Jem was going to walk a trough into the livery floor.” Emmy covered her mouth with her hands and giggled with sheer delight at the adventure.
“If you two ladies wouldn’t mind,” Jem said from the front seat, “I want to know what happened before I have to sign myself into a padded room somewhere.”
“Armstrong was too cagey to agree to everything at this first meeting but I’m almost positive Nanny Grace is set for the rest of her life.” Ivy had seen Armstrong’s hunger for what she was offering. Nanny Grace and her treasured possessions would seal the deal.
“I’m sure the poor man never knew what hit him.” Jem was learning not to underestimate his future bride. Ivy was a force to be reckoned with when she put her mind to something.
“Getting Nanny Grace settled safely will be a load off my mind.” Ivy sat back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. She was only now beginning to relax. “Why don’t you take us back to Ann Marie’s place, Jem?” She’d left her work clothes there and, besides, everyone in the house would be waiting to hear how her meeting had gone.
“But you’re all dressed up, Auntie Ivy,” Emmy objected. “Mr Lawless told Uncle Jem that his Sadie said you went out of the house looking like a film star. He said Uncle Jem should take you out to trip the light fantastic.” She turned to stare at Ivy. “What is the light fantastic? It sounds too wonderful for words.”
“You hear too much, Miss Sugar-lugs.” Ivy put her arm around the little girl and hugged her. “I’m afraid what I want to do would be very boring for a film star. I want to change out of these fancy clothes, sit in the kitchen, drink a pot of tea and talk to my friends. Does that disappoint you?” She leaned over to whisper in Emmy’s ear – loud enough for Jem to hear, “Besides, then your Uncle Jem can put his baby to bed in her warm carriage house.” The two females tittered while Jem drove through the dark Dublin streets.
Chapter 22
Jem Ryan stood on the long wide stretch of cobble road running between the Stephen’s Lane tunnel that he used on a daily basis and the opposite tunnel leading out to the Grand Canal. He was standing hands on hips, head bent back, staring at the blank wall that formed the gable end of his livery building. He was trying to mentally compare Ann Marie’s carriage house and this space at one end of his livery. He could build something similar to that carriage house here – if he dared spend that kind of money.
“You’ll take root if you stand there much longer.” A grumpy voice almost barked in his ear.
“Good morning, Mr Wilson.”
“What’s good about it?” Frank Wilson almost pushed Jem out of his way on his route from his own front door to the Stephen’s Lane exit.
“Miserable bloody way to live,” Jem muttered under his breath, watching the old man march towards the tunnel exit. He returned to his daydreaming – putting the image of the carriage house and its three-bedroom flat in his head. What would it be like to have all that space to live in? The mere idea of having the luxury of such modern conveniences as indoor plumbing and electricity – right in your own home – was breathtaking. He’d be a proud man to be able to promise his Ivy a luxury home like that.
He caught sight of Ivy and her overburdened pram out of the corner of his eye. “Ivy, where are you off to?”
“She is heading straight for Hell, Jem Ryan.” Sheila Purcell had been going to pass the beggar and her pram with her head in the air. She was too good to notice the likes of her. But she changed her mind when she heard Jem Ryan’s shout. Who did he think he was making that kind of commotion around decent people? The Lane was going to Hell since Father Leary had been away. She’d seen it with her own eyes and wouldn’t she have a lot to say to anyone who cared to listen! She put her hands on her skinny hips, covered by a threadbare coat, and glared at Ivy with sheer malice in her eyes.
Jem hurried over to stand by Ivy’s side. He was aware of the people of The Lane watching and listening. The children who usually ran between the two tunnel exits, shouting and playing, had disappeared. The young children didn’t stay around when they saw Mrs Purcell out and about. The people of The Lane left Sheila Purcell alone – the woman’s tongue could be vicious. She hadn’t a good word to say about anyone except her sainted Father Leary.
“You’ll be joining her in the burning fires of Hell, Jem Ryan, if you don’t change your wicked ways. I’ve seen you, walking out – kissing and canoodling – with no view to matrimony. The pair of you sinners are doomed.” Sheila loved the sound of that word. She wished she had her holy water and cross with her. She’d soon show these godless creatures the error of their ways. “It will soon be the Holy Season of Lent. That will put a halt to your gallop, Ivy Murphy.”
Ivy glanced at Jem before rolling her eyes up to Heaven. Had she not enough problems to be dealing with this morning? She had been struggling to push her pram – with an empty tea chest sitting up high on it – towards the exit. She’d have to stand here and listen to Sheila Purcell shouting her religious fervour to the sky – she’d been raised to respect her elders.
“Our parish priest, that sainted man Father Leary, is returning to guide his flock – any day now he will be back among us and not a minute too soon. They offered me extra money to get his room ready for him.” Shelia looked around to see who was listening. She cleaned the parish priest’s house and never let anyone forget it.
Jem reached for Ivy’s hand. He didn’t want her to let this woman see what a shock this news was to her.
“I wouldn’t accept any extra money of course. I offered up me work to the good Lord – as a good Catholic should.” Sheila gave her head such a fierce nod her battered hat almost slipped off her thin grey hair. “Father Leary will soon put an end to your sinful ways, Ivy Murphy. I’ll be watching you.” Having delivered her mini-sermon, Sheila continued walking towards the exit tunnel leading out of The Lane onto the Grand Canal.
“Jesus, it’s worse she’s getting, Jem.” Ivy had to keep her reaction to the news of Father Leary’s return locked firmly behind her teeth. It wouldn’t do to voice her opinion aloud – not out here where anyone could hear. She watched her neighbour march stiff-backed towards the exit, She was grateful for Jem’s silent support. “I hear tell she made a show of herself in the shops the other day.”
“What did she do now?” Jem put his free hand on Ivy’s pram, trying to push it. The thing wouldn’t move. He released Ivy’s hand and tried again, using both hands to shift the stubborn pram. It wouldn’t budge.
“The bawld Mrs Purcell told the Ivors that they would have to close their creamery for the season of Lent, it being a sin to indulge in any luxury for the forty days. Then she took herself in to the butcher and gave him the same lecture. Still, it could be worse. We might have to live with the woman.” She wasn’t the only one who pitied Sheila’s husband and children.
She wouldn’t think about Father Leary coming back to take up his post as their parish priest. That was one problem too many for her right at this minute. She wondered why she hadn’t seen Brother Theo lately. It wasn’t like the man to allow her to neglect her education. The friary was only a step away from Smithfield market. She’d drop in to see him on Friday. She had a book to return to him and the homework he’d given her finished.
“Ivy, if Father Leary is going to take up his duties again he might well be the one to marry us.” Jem was on his knees by the side of Ivy’s pram, trying to see what was blocking the wheels.
“Devil a bit of it,” Ivy snapped. “I won’t be standing before that man with me head bowed.”
“Ivy, where were you heading?” Jem stood up and used his hands to brush the dust from the knees of his trousers. He eyed the tea chest sitting on the pram. He let the subject of the priest drop. His Ivy and Father Leary had been locking horns for years – here and now wasn’t the time to pursue the issue.
“I’m taking this tea chest to Nanny Grace.”
“You won’t be able to get that pram out of the tunnel.” Jem put his hand on the pram’s handl
e. He knew Ivy would kill herself trying to move the thing. “I’m sorry but this pram is finished. It’s going nowhere, Ivy. The wheels are buckled.”
“What am I going to do?” Jem kept fixing the old pram up, trying to keep it working. She could tell by the look on his face that he was telling the truth and the pram was past fixing this time.
“I could always teach you to hitch old Rosie up to a cart,” Jem said, grinning.
“Jem Ryan, this is not the time for jesting.” She tried not to wail like a banshee. She needed her pram. It was a vital piece of equipment.
“Come on.” He began to drag the pram behind him in the direction of the entrance to the livery. “If we put our heads together we can come up with something. Come along, we’ll go up to my place and have a talk in peace. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Ivy, fighting tears, followed along.
“There are days when it’s not worth me while getting out of bed.” Ivy sipped at the tea Jem had put in front of her. They were sitting at the small table Jem kept in his living space tucked under the eaves of the livery. She didn’t want to think about Father Leary returning. She refused to worry or wonder about that aul’ goat.
The Ha'Penny Place (Ivy Rose Series Book 3) Page 10