The Secrets of Armstrong House

by A. O'Connor

“Just the weekend. Going back on Monday.”

  “And what are your plans?”

  “I have none. My appointment book is empty and I’m yours for the whole weekend.”

  “Excellent! I’m meeting Arabella for dinner tonight. She’ll be delighted to see you.”

  Arabella walked up the steps of The Shelbourne Hotel and through the ornate foyer to the restaurant.

  As she was being shown through the restaurant, she nodded and said hello to people at different tables who were friends of her family. She saw Harrison and smiled at him. She then spotted somebody else sitting at the table and her eyes widened in shock as she realised it was Charles. Her stomach knotted at the sight of him, as she wondered why he was there.

  Both men stood up as she reached their table.

  “Look who’s here, Arabella,” said Harrison happily.

  “Yes, I can see. Hello again, Charles,” she said as she sat down.

  “You are looking as lovely as before,” Charles complimented her as he sat down.

  “You flatter me, Charles,” she smiled.

  The waiter handed her a menu.

  “You deserve flattering,” said Charles.

  “I thought you were in London?” said Arabella.

  “No, remember I told you Charles decided to stay at Armstrong House,” said Harrison.

  “Oh, yes, of course. And how are you finding life down on the farm?”

  “Oh, you know! Life goes on there the same as always. Dinner parties and shoots.”

  “The hunt season will be starting soon – that’s always fun,” said Harrison.

  “Yes, the hunt balls can be entertaining all right . . . if I hear the words Home Rule or Land War again, I think I’ll scream!” Charles started laughing.

  “Politics doesn’t interest you?” asked Arabella.

  “Not really. I can never understand people who spend their lives caught up in what’s going on with society. I think they are trying to escape something in their own lives.”

  “‘No man is an island’,” said Arabella.

  Charles took up his menu. “Shall we order?”

  Arabella managed to get through the evening. There wasn’t much for her to contribute as Charles dominated the conversation with hilarious stories and anecdotes. At least Harrison found them hilarious – she remained on guard, smiling and nodding only when she needed to.

  She found the next day that she and Harrison were expected to nanny Charles again when he showed up with Harrison for a garden party they had been invited to. The garden party was being hosted by friends of Arabella who lived in a house on a leafy street in Rathgar. The back garden had been laid out with a series of round tables with crisp white tablecloths on which were silver teapots that glistened in the early-October warm sunshine.

  Arabella walked to her table and Charles hurried after her.

  “Allow me?” he said as he pulled out a chair for her.

  “Thank you,” she said as she sat down.

  The afternoon passed in a leisurely enjoyment of company over neatly cut triangular sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and cream, and an array of cakes.

  “I’m not even going to look at another cream cake or I may as well say goodbye to my figure forever!” Arabella declared.

  Charles bent forward to her and whispered, “But you have an amazing figure.”

  She ignored him and continued to chat to the others.

  Charles soon went and circulated among the other guests. She watched from afar as he charmed and entertained them throughout the afternoon.

  She had to put up with him only for one weekend, she reminded herself.

  On the following Monday afternoon Arabella was sitting in her bedroom in front of her mirror as she tried on necklaces. The maid knocked and came in.

  “Miss Arabella, Mr Armstrong is here to see you.”

  Arabella turned around as she fastened the clip of the necklace at the back of her neck.

  “Harrison didn’t say he would be calling over.” She stood up. “Tell him I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

  “Em, it’s not Master Harrison. It’s a Mr Charles Armstrong to see you,” explained the maid.

  “Charles?” Arabella was confused and surprised. “Tell him that I’m with guests, and can’t see him.”

  “Very good, my lady.” The maid turned and left.

  Arabella sat down at the dressing table again and stared at her reflection, lost in thought. What did he want? Why did he want to see her without Harrison? Her suspicions of him increased even more.

  chapter 5

  The following Friday evening Arabella had arranged to meet Harrison in Stephen’s Green for them to go out to dinner. As she alighted from her father’s carriage at the top of Grafton Street, she smiled as she saw him waiting for her. Her smile dropped as she saw Charles standing beside him.

  “Charles, what a surprise!” Her smile did not carry to her eyes. “I thought you were returning to Armstrong House last Monday?”

  “I did and I caught the train back to Dublin today,” said Charles.

  “Whatever for?” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.

  “For the theatre!” said Harrison. “Charles has got us three tickets to see the new play at the Gaiety tonight.”

  “But I’ve already seen it,” said Arabella.

  “Oh, dear! I wanted to repay you for being such hospitable hosts last weekend,” explained Charles.

  “There really was no need,” insisted Arabella.

  “Every need!” said Charles in a sing-song voice.

  “I really wish somebody had warned me about this. I’m not dressed for the theatre . . .”

  “But you look beautiful,” smiled Charles as his eyes bored into her.

  “I’m not even in the mood for the theatre tonight,” she said.

  “Arabella!” said Harrison, smiling, but with a cautious look on his face. “You’re almost being ungrateful to Charles.”

  “No, it’s all right, Harrison, if Arabella would prefer not to go . . .” said Charles.

  Arabella forced herself to smile and spoke earnestly. “Of course it’s fine. Don’t mind me, Charles – I’m just not good with surprises.”

  “In that case, shall we make our way to the theatre?” said Charles with a broad smile as he held out his arm for Arabella to take.

  Arabella hesitated before taking his arm and they walked down the street, with Harrison alongside them.

  Arabella was positioned between the two brothers in the theatre. She was glad she had seen the play before, because that evening she would have been unable to concentrate on it. She felt extremely uncomfortable so close to Charles. She tried to keep away from him as much as she could, but it didn’t stop her feeling his leg through the many layers of her gown, or his arm pressed against hers. Like Harrison, Charles was a tall man leaving Arabella feeling her personal space was being invaded. What’s more, his aroma was overpowering and intoxicating. She was delighted when the play was over and they all stood to clap for the actors.

  The audience then made its way to the foyer where it congregated.

  “Drinks?” smiled Charles.

  “A glass of white wine, please,” said Harrison.

  “The same for me,” said Arabella.

  Charles made his way through the crowded foyer to join the queue at the bar.

  “I have to say you could have been a bit politer to Charles earlier,” whispered Harrison.

  “I told you, I don’t like surprises,” she said.

  “I mean, he made the journey all the way up from the country to bring us here tonight,” Harrison pointed out.

  Her temper gave. “For goodness’ sake! Do you want me to apologise to him or something?”

  “Of course not – it’s just quite unlike you to be so rude!” said Harrison.

  She forced herself to be quiet.

  “What time does your parents’ soirée start tomorrow night?” asked Harrison.

 
“Eight,” Arabella informed him as she spotted people she knew across the foyer and waved and mouthed hello to them.

  “Fine, we’ll be there in plenty of time.”

  Arabella stopped waving and looked at Harrison, concerned. “We?”

  “Yes, myself and Charles.”

  “Harrison!” she shrieked, causing people to look round.

  “What on earth is wrong with you?” snapped Harrison.

  “I just wish you could have consulted me beforehand. I don’t want to lumber extra guests on my parents without them agreeing beforehand.”

  “It’s not extra guests, it’s just Charles. They always have loads of people attending their drinks parties who they hardly know. I’m sure my brother won’t be a burden to them.”

  “Well, they won’t be given the opportunity now to decide, will they?” she snapped.

  “Well, I could hardly leave him at home on his own while we’re off enjoying ourselves, could I?”

  Arabella was saved from saying something she might regret by the reappearance of Charles with a waiter carrying a silver tray of three wineglasses. They took their glasses from the tray.

  Charles raised his glass and smiled. “Is everyone having as charming an evening as I am?”

  Arabella took a large gulp of her drink.

  The cab pulled up outside the Tattinger house on Ailesbury Avenue and Harrison and Charles alighted.

  “This is Arabella’s home,” said Harrison proudly as the two walked up the driveway of the imposing redbrick house.

  “Very nice,” commented Charles, giving no indication he had been there the previous Monday when Arabella had refused to meet him.

  They climbed the steps and Harrison pulled the doorbell.

  “Good evening, Molly,” said Harrison as he and Charles handed over their hats and coats.

  “They’re in the drawing room, sir,” said Molly as she put their garments to one side. She led them across the hall and opened the door for them.

  The room was filled with well-dressed people as two footmen circulated and served drinks.

  Charles spotted Arabella immediately. She was looking radiant and standing out from the crowd.

  Harrison led Charles over to her parents.

  “I’m sorry we’re somewhat late,” said Harrison. “Sir George and Lady Tattinger, you remember my brother Charles?”

  “Of course, delighted to see you again,” smiled George. “And how are your parents?”

  “Very good, sir. I believe the price of wheat has gone up which has made my father exorbitantly happy!” said Charles, causing George and Caroline to laugh.

  “I say, that’s Charles Armstrong, isn’t it?” said Sophia, a close female friend of Arabella’s.

  “Yes, Harrison’s brother. Do you know him?”

  “No. But my brother does. He was in university with him.” Sophia had a look on her face that was a mixture of excitement and horror.

  “I don’t know him that well,” said Arabella.

  “Maybe it’s just as well!”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he had quite a reputation at university.”

  “In what way?” Arabella demanded.

  “Well, he wasn’t at university to study by all accounts but to drink, gamble and carouse. I believe trouble seemed to follow him around like a bad smell around a pig! But he’s so smooth and devious he always got away with everything. My brother said he’s not quite the charmer he presents to the world. On one occasion . . .” Sophia looked quickly around to make sure nobody was listening before leaning into Arabella’s ear and whispering the rest of the story. “He was courting four girls at the same time, and all four girls had their names ruined by him!”

  Arabella’s face turned red as she heard this. “I don’t believe it!”

  Arabella found herself being drawn to looking at Charles for the rest of the night. Again he seemed to be seeking out her company and she continued to try to avoid him, even more so after what she had heard from Sophia. But she eventually found herself cornered by him.

  “Your parents were so good to invite me,” said Charles.

  “They didn’t actually,” she said curtly. “Harrison invited you.”

  “What?” He looked surprised and then embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I assumed your parents had extended the invitation. I should leave.” He turned to go.

  “No! Wait!” she said quickly. “What I meant was they weren’t aware you were in Dublin to invite. If they had been, they would naturally have invited you.”

  “Are you sure?” he said. “I would hate to stay where I wasn’t welcome.”

  “You are very welcome here, Charles,” she said politely.

  “Oh good!” he smiled and moved on.

  Caroline immediately came over to Arabella. “I’d forgotten how nice Charles was!”

  “Easily done,” Arabella muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing!”

  Caroline looked at her daughter, exasperated, then decided to let her rudeness go. “I’ve invited him to our dinner party here next weekend.”

  “But he’ll be returning to the country on Monday!” Arabella was astounded.

  “No, he said he’ll make the journey up especially for the dinner party! Isn’t that nice of him?”

  “Mama!” Arabella snapped loudly. “I wish you had discussed it with me before you asked him.”

  “What is there to ask? You’re going to be part of his family after all.” Caroline was puzzled.

  “And I get stuck with him for yet another weekend,” Arabella whispered under her breath.

  At the dinner party the following Saturday Arabella made sure to sit at the furthest end of the table from where Charles was positioned. It didn’t matter as Charles’ loud and gregarious conversation dominated the table and captured everyone’s attention.

  “I came into the drawing room at Armstrong House and my mother had my youngest sister Emily imprisoned on the couch, giving her elocution lessons, getting her to repeat over and over again ‘The cat sat on the mat’,” said Charles. “My mother was reprimanding her, telling her she wasn’t concentrating on her consonants – ‘The cat sat on the mat,’ emphasised my mother. To which dearest little Emily jumped up in a fit of rage and screamed: ‘Who gives a damn where the bloody cat sat!’”

  The whole table erupted in laughter mixed with shocked gasps.

  “Poor Lady Armstrong!” said Caroline, shocked at his repeating Emily’s bad language.

  “I’m sure Emily will mature into as fine a lady as your sister Gwyneth,” said George.

  “Yes, and any news of Gwyneth’s wedding to the Duke?” inquired Caroline.

  “They are talking spring,” said Charles.

  After dinner, the party walked through the double doors into the front drawing room where the banter continued unabated. Arabella kept to the back of the room, where she hoped Charles wouldn’t notice her. On the contrary, as the night wore on he made a beeline for her.

  “Thank your parents for being wonderful hosts tonight,” said Charles.

  “Why don’t you thank them yourself?”

  He smiled at her. “We must meet up for tea during the week, perhaps Monday if you’re free, before I return to the country.”

  She looked at him, alarmed. “But Harrison will be at work.”

  “So?”

  “I’m not in the habit of meeting men I don’t know well, unchaperoned.”

  “Well, as we are going to be family, I think we should get better acquainted.”

  She studied him. “You called to our house a while back asking to meet me. Why?”

  “Ah yes, it was a Monday afternoon if I remember. It’s quite simple: I was returning your glove.”

  “Glove? What glove?”

  “The glove you left behind at our house in Merrion Square over the weekend when you were there.”

  “I wasn’t missing any glove. It wasn’t mine,” she said firmly.

/>   “Oh, I see. I wonder then in that case whose it was?”

  “I don’t know and really don’t care.”

  “I hope Harrison hasn’t been entertaining a young lady there behind your back.” His eyes glinted mischievously at her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. And how dare you say such a thing!”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve offended you.”

  “Charles, you flatter yourself if you think you could ever provoke any reaction from me other than disinterest.” She turned and pushed past him to join the others.

  chapter 6

  Weekend after weekend passed and Arabella became used to Harrison turning up to nearly every event with Charles but she was increasingly unhappy with the situation. The man seemed to know no boundaries, she thought. He continued to try to flirt with her, to capture her alone, to get her attention.

  Charles was on horseback and was setting off for a ride around the estate.

  “Charles!” cried a voice and he turned around to see Emily galloping towards him on her horse.

  He waited for her to catch up.

  “Mother will kill you if she sees you’re not riding side-saddle,” he warned her.

  “Mother will kill me anyway. I’ve escaped from her tuition for the afternoon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “With you!” She looked imploringly at him.

  “Come along then,” he sighed and the two of them set off, riding through the countryside, chatting.

  “If it’s not table manners, it’s elocution. If it’s not elocution it’s walking practice. She wants to turn me into a walking, talking doll!”

  Charles laughed. “I suppose we have to take on the roles that are given to us in life.”

  “You always please yourself. You’re nobody’s puppet. It’s what I love about you. You’re the only one here who really understands me.”

  “Poor Emily!” he mocked.

  She looked at him curiously. “Where do you go at the weekends, Charles?”

  “You know where I go – to the house in Dublin.”

  “Are you sure that’s where you go?”

  He looked at her, confused. “Check with Harrison if you don’t believe me . . . Why, where do you think I go?”