The Secrets of Armstrong House

by A. O'Connor

  Arabella and Charles came forward to greet him.

  “Hello, Hugh,” said Arabella, feeling a knot of tension in her stomach.

  “Arabella – Charles,” nodded Hugh.

  “We’ve put you in the Blue Room – it has a lovely aspect out onto the lake,” said Margaret. “We’re serving dinner in an hour, so perhaps the butler should take you straight there so you can freshen up and dress for dinner.”

  Hugh was surprised by this sudden order.

  “If you care to follow the butler up,” insisted Margaret as she gestured to the butler standing behind him.

  “Of course,” said Hugh and he turned to leave.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” smiled Emily once he had left.

  Margaret and Lawrence sat saying nothing and glaring at Charles and Arabella coldly.

  A dinner of roast beef was served in the dining room that night. Lawrence and Margaret sat at either end of the table, Charles and Arabella to one side, Emily and Hugh to the other.

  “I trust you had a good journey?” asked Lawrence.

  “Yes,” nodded Hugh. “I’ve never been to Ireland before.”

  “Really?” said Margaret. “I understood you had been to everywhere?”

  “Not Ireland,” said Hugh. “You really get the feeling as you travel across Ireland to the west coast here that you’re going to the end of the world . . . next stop America.”

  “It might feel like the end of the world to you, Mr Fitzroy, but it’s the centre of ours. The Armstrongs have been here for three hundred years.”

  “Yes, I’ve been reading up on Irish history,” said Hugh.

  “Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for a man much given to reading,” said Margaret acidly.

  “Mother!” Emily protested.

  Hugh glared at Margaret. “I understand that most of the Irish aristocracy like yourselves were originally soldiers in the British army that the King couldn’t afford to pay so he paid them with these vast estates where the land was stolen from the original Irish native owners, who are now your tenant farmers.”

  Everyone, including Emily, stared at Hugh in disbelief at what he had said.

  “The Armstrong estate is legally owned by me, Mr Fitzroy,” said Lawrence evenly. “You have no need to fear that you are staying on any stolen property.”

  “And the Armstrongs were never soldiers, Mr Fitzroy,” said Margaret, amazed at his rudeness. “The Armstrongs have a pedigree going back many hundreds of years.”

  “Of course . . . I’m just saying we’re all the same, aren’t we?”

  “I doubt we have that much in common with you,” said Margaret.

  “I’m just saying family fortunes have to be built somewhere by someone originally, and it usually comes at the expense of others,” said Hugh.

  “And what of your own family, Mr Fitzroy?” said Margaret. “You have the most unusual accent.”

  “I’m from London,” stated Hugh.

  “What part? Kensington? Chelsea?” Margaret looked at him condescendingly.

  “No, further east,” said Hugh.

  “A lot further east, I imagine,” said Lawrence knowingly.

  “And do you have a large family?” asked Margaret. “Will there be many at this wedding you are planning with our daughter? Is Armstrong House to be filled on the day by the good working people of Whitechapel?”

  “I don’t have much family, Lady Armstrong, and the few I have I’m no longer in contact with,” said Hugh.

  “Indeed! Probably wise!” said Margaret.

  “And I believe you live in a hotel?” asked Lawrence incredulously.

  “At Claridge’s, yes.”

  “And do you propose that my daughter live at Claridge’s as well if this marriage takes place?” questioned Margaret.

  “Of course not. When I marry Emily, I plan to buy a house – perhaps in Regent’s Park.”

  Arabella could not finish the delicious food on her plate as the dinner continued to be a volley of subtle insults and she longed for the night to be over.

  The next day Hugh was in the hall examining the portraits on the walls. Charles came down the stairs and approached him carefully.

  “Your ancestors?” asked Hugh.

  “Yes. This one here you are looking at is of my grandparents, Lord Edward and Lady Anna. He built this house for her as a wedding present.”

  “What a lovely idea. Giving a house to your bride . . . I wonder will my portrait hang here one day?”

  Charles looked at him, wondering how deluded he could be. “Hardly. These are all the heirs, their wives and children who lived at Armstrong House. That will never be you. Eh, Hugh, about the gambling money I owe you?”

  Hugh turned from the paintings and faced Charles. “Oh, yes, consider it paid. I’ve already informed Tom Hamley to cancel it.”

  Charles felt overcome with relief. “And the matter of the arrears on the mortgage I owe the bank which I discussed with you?”

  Hugh looked surprised. “Yes, of course, I’ll take it up with the bank. Can you send me the details of what is owed and who I should address about the matter?”

  “Of course. It’s a tiresome little man called Jones. I’ll forward you the details as soon as I get back to London.”

  Hugh stretched out his hand. “Our deal is done.”

  Charles looked at his hand and then shook it, feeling relieved.

  Emily stood in the forecourt waving to Hugh as his carriage went down the driveway.

  The butler came out to her. “Lady Emily, your parents want to see you in the drawing room.”

  Sighing she went inside the house and braced herself as she went into the drawing room where she found her parents and Charles and Arabella waiting for her. She felt relieved that Charles was there too. He would support her.

  “Well, I have to say, you were incredibly rude to Hugh,” Emily said, deciding to go on the offensive.

  “Rude!” said Margaret. “It’s you who has been rude bringing a man like that in to our home!”

  “What do you mean – a man like that?” Emily said, getting angry.

  “I mean he has no breeding whatsoever! And you the daughter of an earl marrying a man like that!”

  “Emily, it’s inconceivable that you should marry this man,” said Lawrence. “Now he might be very industrious and ambitious, but he’s as common as muck.”

  “As you kept pointing out to him at any opportunity. I wonder about you – you go on and on about etiquette and manners and then give the most disgusting display of manners I’ve ever seen.”

  “The engagement will have to end immediately. I will write to Mr Fitzroy and tell him it is over,” said Lawrence.

  “You’ll do no such thing!” said Emily angrily, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve made my mind up and I will marry him.”

  “Right, Emily, you’ve played your prank on us now,” said Margaret. “You’ve managed to prove yet again how far you’ll go to show how independent you are. You’ve shown your contempt of both your family and society. But this is where the joke ends!”

  “The wedding can’t continue because I’ll not give a dowry to that man,” said Lawrence.

  “He doesn’t want a dowry from you. He told me flatly he would refuse any money from you.”

  Margaret looked at her husband, worried. “We will not permit the wedding to take place in Armstrong House, so it can’t continue.”

  “We don’t want to get married here. We’ve already decided we’re getting married in St Paul’s Cathedral or Westminster and we’re having the reception at The Dorchester Hotel.”

  “In a hotel!” Margaret was aghast.

  “It’s becoming ever so popular having wedding receptions in hotels – it’s becoming all the rage,” said Charles.

  “So you see, we need nothing from you,” said Emily.

  “Well, your father won’t give you away on the day and I won’t attend, as I’m sure none of your brothers or sisters will either.”

 
; “Don’t come then!” Emily’s voice rose further. “Charles will walk me down the aisle and give me away, won’t you, Charles?”

  All eyes turned to Charles.

  “Charles?” asked Lawrence.

  “Yes, yes, I will. I will give Emily away,” confirmed Charles.

  “Oh Charles!” sighed Arabella under her breath as she rubbed her forehead in distress.

  “This wedding will take place and there’s nothing you can do about it,” stated Emily. “But you will come, Mother. You will come, Father.”

  “What makes you think that?” demanded Margaret.

  “Because you won’t have the scandal of not attending. You will grit your teeth and pretend everything is perfect on the day. Because that’s what you do. You cover up anything you don’t like for the sake of the family reputation. You’ll go to any lengths to avoid a scandal. That’s what you did when Arabella got pregnant by Charles!”

  “Emily!” shouted Lawrence.

  “Yes, I know all about it. I was listening at the doors. She was pregnant by Charles and you concocted the whole plan that she go to France and lie about when Prudence was born. None of you cared about Harrison – you were delighted he left and you could get on with your deception. You threw him out like the rubbish – he was just a casualty you sacrificed to cover up your sordid little secret! At least Hugh is honest, something none of you know anything about!”

  She stood up and marched from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  They sat in silence, stunned.

  “I can’t believe she knew all along,” said Arabella eventually, shaking her head.

  “You may well shake your head – I hope you are shaking your head in shame!” said Margaret crossly.

  “Now, Mother –” began Charles.

  “I hold you, Charles, and you, Arabella, completely responsible for this debacle. I had no idea Gwyneth was so poorly and that you were stepping in as Emily’s chaperone, Arabella. It was bound to end in disaster.”

  “Well, I knew it was only a matter of time before I got the blame for all this!” said Arabella.

  “Well, who else is to blame? She was in your home under your care, albeit not known to me!”

  “I did try to warn Emily to stay away from Hugh,” Arabella defended herself.

  “Well, you mustn’t have done a good job warning her!” Margaret’s voice rose.

  “Margaret, calm down,” said Lawrence.

  “I will not calm down! Not content with ruining Harrison’s life, the two of you have now ruined Emily’s as well!”

  “Emily is a grown woman, who can make her own decisions,” said Charles.

  “Emily is a fool who thinks she knows everything and knows nothing!” said Lawrence. “What were you even thinking of, being acquainted with a man like that? How did you even meet him?”

  “I met him through friends.”

  “I can only imagine what kind of life you’re living in London, hanging around with Fitzroy. Living the good life, no responsibility, when you should be here taking up your rightful position,” accused Lawrence.

  “I’m disgusted beyond belief,” said Margaret. “To have my beautiful daughter end up in a marriage with a man with no background, breeding, education – need I go on!”

  “And what were you thinking of saying you’ll walk her down the aisle?” Lawrence renewed his attack on Charles. “You’ve given her your approval, Charles!”

  “I’m afraid I need to go and lie down,” said Arabella.

  “We all need to lie down!” countered Margaret.

  Arabella left the room quickly.

  The remaining three sat in silence for a long while.

  “The reality is Emily is determined to marry him and there’s nothing you can do,” said Charles at last. “You need to accept her decision. If she doesn’t marry Hugh Fitzroy, then she’ll marry nobody.”

  “I would so much prefer for her to marry nobody,” said Margaret.

  Lighting a cigarette Charles walked across the forecourt and down the steps to the first terrace. He continued into the gardens where he found Emily walking on her own.

  “You’ve caused quite a stir,” he said.

  She held him tightly. “Why don’t they want me to be happy?”

  “They’ve accepted your decision. They’ll support your marriage to Hugh. They are very unhappy but I’ve smoothed it over with them.”

  “Charles, I knew I could rely on you,” she smiled up into his face. “We’ve always been able to count on each other . . . we’re as thick as thieves.”

  “That’s right,” nodded Charles. “Thick as thieves.”

  That night when Charles came into the bedroom he found Arabella lying awake in bed. She had stayed in the room all day, not even coming down for dinner and Charles had not gone up to see her.

  “They’ve accepted her decision,” he informed her.

  She looked at him coldly. “Thank you for letting me take the blame for the whole thing.”

  “I didn’t let you take the blame. They hold me equally responsible.”

  “Equally responsible!” her voice rose. “I had no hand in this whatsoever! It’s you that’s behind it all.”

  “I’m not behind anything,” he said angrily.

  “Whatever the truth is, and only you know the truth, I hope you can live with yourself in the future, when Emily’s life is miserable.”

  “Travelling first class around the world? Doing everything she wants to? She’s been given her freedom.”

  “She’s been given a life sentence.” Arabella turned away from him on to her side.

  chapter 41

  Margaret and Lawrence kept hoping that Emily would see sense and call off the wedding, but as the weeks flew into months, they realised Emily was not for turning.

  Finally the week of the wedding arrived. As Hugh and Emily had planned, they were to be married in London at Westminster Abbey with the reception at The Dorchester. The family were all staying at the house in Hanover Terrace for the event.

  Invitations were issued to all the right people in London. But as Margaret expected only half were accepted.

  “Well, if they don’t want us, then we don’t want them,” said Emily, unconcerned.

  It was the morning of the wedding and the family was waiting in the hallway at Hanover Terrace for Emily to come down.

  She finally appeared and came slowly down the stairs in her wedding dress with Gwyneth behind her.

  “You look stunning,” said Charles, kissing her.

  “We’d better get going,” said Margaret. “We don’t want to keep the congregation waiting too long – it was hard enough to get them there in the first place.” She wiped away her tears and kissed Emily. “We’ll see you at the church.”

  “Good luck,” said Arabella, kissing her.

  “You can come in our carriage, Mother,” offered Charles.

  “No, thank you, I’d prefer to travel with Gwyneth,” Margaret sniffled as she left with her eldest daughter.

  “We’ll give you twenty minutes and then Emily and I will follow you,” said Lawrence as the family left.

  Then he was alone with his daughter.

  “Are you sure?” he asked one last time.

  “Very sure!” she answered and he came and hugged her.

  “You know your mother and I only want what’s best for you,” he said.

  “You want what is best for you, Papa, not me,” she said.

  There was suddenly a loud knock on the door.

  “Burchill! Get that, would you?” shouted Lawrence as Emily went to check her appearance one more time in the mirror in the hall.

  “Probably a neighbour come to wish me luck,” said Emily.

  “Can I help you?” asked Burchill, looking in confusion at the eight men standing there.

  The men walked in past Burchill and the eldest said, “We’re from Matheson, Matheson & Sons.”

  “You can’t just walk in like this – what do you want?” demanded
Burchill, shocked.

  Lawrence stepped forward. “Who on earth are you and what do you want? Leave immediately or I’ll call the police!”

  “No need for that, guvnor – we’re here to take the furniture,” said the man as his colleagues started picking up furniture and walking out the door with it.

  “You’re obviously in the wrong house,” Lawrence shouted.

  “No mistake,” said the man as he put down a chair he was carrying. He reached into his pocket and took out a notice which he handed to Lawrence. “This is the house of Lord Lawrence Armstrong?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “That’s a court order on behalf of the bank to take all furniture and belongings from the house. We’re to take everything immediately to Sotheby’s who are selling everything as quickly as possible for the bank to get its money back,” said the man.

  “Bank? Take possessions?” Lawrence read quickly through the order. “But there must be some mistake. This is Jones at Coutts Bank who applied for the order?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “I must go and talk to him straight away and see what on earth is going on,” said Lawrence.

  “Papa! We have to get to the church!” said Emily, distressed, as the mirror she had been looking at was taken down and carried away.

  Lawrence thought for a moment before crossing into the study. “Burchill, follow me.”

  Lawrence sat down at the writing desk and started to write a letter.

  “Burchill, you’re to take this letter immediately to the bank at this address and give it personally to the manager, Jones. You are to demand he write an explanation to me as to what is going on and bring me his letter to The Dorchester Hotel.”

  “Very well, Lord Armstrong.”

  “I’m outraged! What does the bank think it is doing?”

  “Papa, we really have to go!” Emily demanded.

  Lawrence got up quickly and the two made their way past the removal men and out to their waiting carriage.

  Emily walked down the aisle, smiling, on the arm of Hugh who looked smugly at the guests. Lawrence had been unable to concentrate on the ceremony he had been so taken aback by the scene he had witnessed that morning in the house.