by A. O'Connor
“I’m not surprised. Harrison has many fine qualities. I hope he’ll be very happy.”
“Aren’t you jealous?”
“Not in the least. If anything I’m relieved. Harrison has been a huge source of guilt to me over the years, and I’m delighted he’s finally settling down with someone.”
“Not just someone – a Van Hoevan.”
She looked at him pointedly. “Well, he always had good taste, if I say so myself. Pity I didn’t have as sound taste myself.”
He smirked at her and said mockingly, “Well, it’s not too late if you feel that strongly about it. You might be able to rush over and stop the wedding.”
“No, interfering in marriage arrangements is your speciality.”
“Well, let’s hope he has better luck, and taste, in choosing his fiancée this time round.”
“As you won’t be allowed anywhere near his wedding I’m sure he’ll have all the luck in the world,” said Arabella.
Although Lawrence was excited about seeing Harrison again, he was extremely concerned about leaving the estate in Charles’ care as they headed off to America for the wedding. There wouldn’t even be James there to keep an eye on things as he was naturally going to the wedding as well.
“Oh, he’ll be all right,” Margaret reassured him as they got in to their landau carriage and waved goodbye to Charles and Arabella and the children who were standing at the door.
“I wonder,” said Lawrence.
“You said yourself he’s taking a much keener interest in the running of the estate.”
“That’s what’s worrying me!” confided Lawrence.
Fennell was serving breakfast to Charles and Arabella.
“Do you know, I fancy salmon tonight,” said Charles. “Tell Cook to prepare salmon and tell her to try and do something fancy and French with it.”
Fennell looked concerned.
“I take it Cook can’t do something fancy and French,” smiled Arabella knowingly.
“Well, it’s not that, it’s just we haven’t had salmon all season. None has been caught from the river and delivered to the house.”
“Whyever not?” asked Charles. “There was always fresh salmon caught in the river and served when I was growing up.”
Fennell shrugged.
“Ask the head gamekeeper to come and see me at twelve,” instructed Charles.
“Why is there no salmon being caught in the river this year?” asked Charles.
“I’m afraid it’s a bad year for salmon, sir.”
Charles raised his eyes to heaven. “Is it a bad year for everything this year around here?”
The gamekeeper shifted uncomfortably. “His lordship gave instructions no salmon was to be fished in order to allow the salmon to restock.”
“A river that was so plentiful with salmon doesn’t just run dry.”
The gamekeeper continued to shift uncomfortably.
“What else is going on with the salmon?” asked Charles coolly, seeing the gamekeeper was hiding something.
“Well, there’s been a lot of poaching in the river lately.”
“Poaching!”
“Yes, sir. To be honest all the tenant farmers always do a bit of poaching and his lordship always turns a blind eye to it.”
“There’s a surprise.”
“But this past couple of years you have a lot of poachers coming out from Castlewest and helping themselves as they know his lordship won’t call the police.”
“I can’t believe it! So we must starve while strangers feed on our salmon!”
The gamekeeper’s eyes widened at Charles’ exaggeration.
“I want you to gather your best men and we’ll go down to the river tonight. We’ll catch these bastards who are stealing our salmon.”
It was a moonlit night as Charles and four of the gamekeepers hid near the river behind trees. The men were waiting there with guns. It was cold and a bird called as the wind rustled through the branches. A couple of hours went by and Charles was freezing but he was determined to put an end to this plundering which his father had not only ignored but had encouraged by turning a blind eye.
Suddenly three men came down a laneway to the river and started talking to each other before they started casting their nets.
“When I count to three, rush them!” ordered Charles. “One, two . . . three!”
The gamekeepers came running out of the bushes, startling the poachers.
“Get the bastards!” shouted Charles.
They managed to grab two of the poachers but the third went racing into the trees.
The two frightened poachers were brought in front of Charles by the gamekeepers.
“Bring them down to the police in the town. Have them charged with theft and poaching,” ordered Charles.
The gamekeepers looked warily at each other.
“I don’t think his lordship would want to involve the police, sir. He’d just want them well warned and released,” said the head gamekeeper.
“Do as I say – take these thieves down to the police station at once,” commanded Charles as he turned and headed back to Armstrong House.
chapter 49
Arabella much enjoyed the few weeks that Lawrence and Margaret were away. It was nice having the house to themselves without Margaret’s constant spying and criticisms and Charles’ constant arguing with Lawrence and James. Her thoughts often drifted to Harrison and what his wedding would be like, what this Victoria Van Hoevan was like. She wondered if Harrison was the same as when she knew him. Was he still as lovely and trusting and kind? She hoped he was. Having lived with Charles for so many years those qualities of Harrison were much more endearing to her now than they had been to her as a young girl when her head was turned by charm and danger and intrigue.
Margaret and Lawrence arrived back from America full of talk about the wedding. As they handed presents to Prudence and Pierce in the drawing room the evening of their arrival they regaled Charles and Arabella with stories.
“It was simply amazing!” said Margaret. “The wealth and extravagance was staggering! These Van Hoevans certainly know how to live!”
“We travelled in a motor car!” said Lawrence. “I don’t mind telling you I was terrified.”
“The wedding reception was at the Van Hoevan house, their palace by the sea. The reception was on the lawn! In front of the ocean! Can you imagine!”
“A river of champagne ran the whole day, and I mean river!” said Lawrence.
“Everyone who was anyone in American society was there,” said Margaret proudly.
Charles stood at the fireplace, mesmerised with all the reports of glamour beyond anything he could ever imagine for himself.
“And what of Harrison? How was Harrison?” asked Arabella eventually.
“Oh, he’s perfectly happy! Blissfully happy!” said Margaret, delighted to give this report to Arabella.
“He looked very well, and delighted we could all make it over,” said Lawrence.
“Even Emily and Fitzroy, although I don’t know what American society made of him. He, of course, loved being amongst the nobs, but I’ll tell you more about that later,” said Margaret, disgusted by the memory of him.
“And what of the girl? The girl he married?” asked Charles, his curiosity piqued to fever point.
Margaret sat back with a hugely satisfied look on her face. “She’s perfection, absolute perfection. Beautiful, cultured, educated and just a thoroughly nice person.”
“They said she came into a million-dollar trust fund on her twenty-first birthday,” chuckled Lawrence.
Charles suddenly dropped his glass of wine and it smashed to the floor.
“Are you all right, Charles?” asked Margaret, concerned.
“Yes, clumsy of me,” said Charles, tugging the bell pull to call Fennell to clean up the mess.
Lawrence sighed loudly. “I’m absolutely exhausted. The trip back on the ocean liner was very tiresome. I’m going to bed.”
Arabella had to admit Lawrence looked aged and tired from the whole trip.
“I’ll come with you too,” said Margaret, linking his arm.
“Yes, Victoria was a dream,” said Margaret as she left the room. “Everything you’d want in a daughter-in-law, but so seldom get.”
Arabella and Charles looked at each other discontentedly.
Charles found himself lost in thought of Harrison and this fairytale bride he’d found. All Margaret and Lawrence seemed to talk about was Harrison and his wife. They seemed so proud of him. The whole thing only caused resentment in Charles. Resentment of Harrison who had been allowed to sail off to this fantastic new life. Resentment of his father who put such restrictions on his life. Resentment of Fitzroy who cheated him of his life and good name in London. And resentment of Arabella. Arabella whose marriage with him had been born out of avoiding a scandal. Arabella whose dowry paled in comparison to this Victoria Van Hoevan’s. Arabella who made unpleasant comments to him and who rowed with him incessantly. He loved his children, but he remembered the all-consuming passionate desire and love he had for Arabella at the beginning, and he had to admit to himself that it no longer existed. Arabella carried herself well as a society hostess in London and he had enjoyed the envy she inspired in people. But she seemed no longer interested in being a society hostess since returning to Armstrong House, and he had to admit the opportunity to be one was greatly diminished in his parents’ home. But she seemed uninterested in anything. She never went into town and, although Charles had accepted the drapers and haberdasheries of Castlewest could not compete with the delights of Bond Street and Knightsbridge, she could at least show some interest. Apart from walking through the gardens, she never ventured beyond that to the estate. She talked politely at dinner parties and social gatherings, but she was no great society hostess.
Charles came down the staircase, putting on his gloves and dressed in his riding clothes.
“Excuse me, Mr Charles, but his lordship would like to see you in the library,” Fennell informed him.
Charles tutted, took off his hat and gloves and left them on the sideboard. He headed into the library where he found Lawrence sitting behind his desk, looking angry.
“Tell me this isn’t so, Charles?” asked Lawrence.
“What exactly are you talking about?” Charles asked irritably.
“Did you go and catch poachers while I was in America and hand them over to the police for prosecution?” demanded Lawrence.
“Yes, I did,” said Charles, unconcerned.
“And what became of them?”
“They were put in gaol for a week and given a hefty fine.”
“How dare you – who gave you permission to do such a thing?” Lawrence’s face was red with anger.
“I did! I was in charge and these men were breaking the law by stealing our best salmon and deserved prosecution,” Charles said assuredly.
“You stupid, stupid boy! Don’t you know anything? Don’t you understand anything?”
“I understand peasants stealing what does not belong to them and them needing to be taught a lesson and made an example of,” said Charles.
“You had no right! You have no understanding of history our own family history. We’ve turned a blind eye to poaching on the river ever since the famine, when the fish stock there allowed many families to survive. It’s an unwritten understanding between us and the locals.”
“The famine! The famine was fifty years ago – it’s ancient history, I’ve told you before.”
“That famine built such a resentment towards our class from the locals that we have to at all times tread very carefully. We are a rich and powerful family but times are changing. This Land War has very much strengthened the peasants’ rights. Some of the gentry families are already pulling out of Ireland, taking advantage of the land acts that enabled their tenants to buy them out. They don’t want to stay here in a country that makes them feel unwelcome as it hurries to Home Rule.”
“Home Rule! They’ve been going on about Home Rule for the past hundred years, and they will be going on about it in a hundred years, but it will never come to pass.”
“Don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you? My father successfully brought this great estate through the terrible famine, and I successfully brought it through the worst years of the Land War. And here you are, upsetting and risking those decades of careful politics and diplomacy by calling in the police over a couple of salmon being poached!”
“And why not? I see the way you flutter around those peasants and it makes me sick!” Charles adopted a mocking imitation of Lawrence’s accent: “‘Fine day, Mr Doyle, what lovely children, Mrs O’Hara, soda bread is simply thrilling, Mrs Kennedy!’”
“But that’s what running an estate like this involves – good relations!”
“I piss on your good relations!”
“Charles!”
“They are peasants – filthy, uneducated peasants!”
“How can you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true!” Charles leaned forward across the desk, his face a mask of anger as everything came whirring through his mind at the same time from Harrison’s marriage to Fitzroy’s cheating to Arabella’s arguments. “You’ve let them take advantage of you all your life, but I won’t let them do the same to me or my son. I’ll run this place like a finely tuned business when my time comes. I won’t be walked over and poached and taken advantage of by those wretched people we have nothing in common with!”
Lawrence stared at his son’s angry face and felt fear. Not for himself but for the future of the family and the estate.
He sat down at the desk and sighed. “You might have more in common with the peasants than you think.”
“Yes, we breathe the same air, and that’s where it stops.”
Lawrence studied Charles’ arrogant and angry face and knew he had to do something to divert the disaster that would come to the estate with Charles’ attitude and actions.
“I want to tell you something – something I’ve never told a living soul, not even your mother, especially not your mother,” said Lawrence.
Charles looked at the strange expression on Lawrence’s face.
“I’ve kept this secret for years, but as you are my heir you need to know the truth, and to keep the secret as well.”
“Get on with it!” said Charles unpleasantly.
“My mother, Lady Anna, told me this when she was dying. She told me that when she was younger and married to my father, Lord Edward, she had an affair. And that I was the result of this affair.”
“What?” Charles shouted.
“Edward never knew I was not his real son. When my mother told me Edward had already passed away. It weighed heavy on her conscience and so she told me – she had to share it with me.”
“And who then was your real father?” Charles felt as if the whole world he knew was turning upside-down in front of him.
“A peasant,” confirmed Lawrence.
“Noooo!” screamed Charles. “You’re lying!”
“Why would I lie?” said Lawrence.
“I don’t know – to anger me, to teach me some sort of lesson on humility.”
“I’m not lying, Charles. Lord Edward Armstrong, wonderful man and father that he was to me, was not my real father. I never knew who my real father was or even his identity, only that he wasn’t from our class.”
“But – but – your whole life has been a lie, and you’ve made our lives a lie as well!”
“I only found this out when I was in my twenties. Edward had passed away and my mother was not far off it herself. My mother was so kind and loving to everyone and yet she always seemed haunted by something. When she told me this, I realised this was what haunted her.”
“And why didn’t you keep this to yourself? Why have you told me? Can you imagine what effect this will have on me?”
“That’s precisely why I did tell you. I’m so worried about your attitude and
the way you behave to the tenants and even the staff in the house. You think you’re above them and you need to understand you’re not. You’re part of them and they are part of you.”
Charles’ face contorted in anger. “You make me sick! I can’t even bear to look at you! The result of a sordid affair, and you had the audacity to judge me when Arabella became pregnant!”
“I judged you over how you treated Harrison, but if you remember it was I encouraged you to marry Arabella and accept fate. Ever since I found out how I was conceived I’ve understood that nature has its own way of dealing with things and pushing the human race on even though sometimes we don’t understand it. I said this to your mother when she was distraught about Arabella being pregnant. I explained to her it was nature’s way of promoting our family – in the same way my mother’s liaison pushed the Armstrong family to the next generation.”
“But you weren’t the next generation of the Armstrong family – you were some bastard of a peasant!”
“Charles!”
“It’s the fucking truth!”
“Once you calm down you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”
“I will never recover from this! You’ve robbed me of my identity. And if you think this will make me somehow bond with the locals then you’re sadly mistaken. Whereas before I looked down on them, now I’ll despise them. And my children will never find out this dirty family secret you’ve burdened me with!”
Charles turned and stormed from the room.
“Charles!” Lawrence shouted after him, but he was gone.
Charles went storming through the courtyards at the back of the house.
“Get me a horse – now!” he roared at a passing stable boy who ran into a stable and brought out a saddled mare straight away. Charles jumped on the horse and dug his heels into her so that she took off at high speed.
Charles raced down the avenue through the parklands surrounding Armstrong House. For the next couple of hours he rode the horse fast through the lanes and roads that crisscrossed the Armstrong estate. He jumped the horse over hedges and gates, scattering groups of children who fled for their lives as he passed by. He continued up into the hills and finally stopped when he got to the top of a high hill. He dismounted from the exhausted horse.