by A. O'Connor
“Mrs Fennell!” asserted Arabella. “My headache has to take precedence! Please come and see me tomorrow about all this, and we’ll just have to make do today.”
“Make do!” Mrs Fennell was aghast.
“Yes – make do!” confirmed Arabella.
“Very well, my lady,” said Mrs Fennell, closing her notebook and standing up. As Mrs Fennell left the room she met the housekeeper waiting to go in.
“Good luck with that one!” Mrs Fennell tutted.
“Good day, my lady,” said the housekeeper on entering the room. “I have a full agenda to talk to you about today. Will we begin with the linen in the servants’ quarters?”
Arabella sighed heavily as the housekeeper began her litany of things needing to be done. She had already put the housekeeper off from the previous week, so she knew she couldn’t use a headache as an excuse again.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and three workmen from the estate walked in, holding hammers and chisels.
“Can I help you?” asked Arabella.
“No, my lady, we’ll try to make as little noise and mess as possible,” said the foreman as they walked past her to the gable wall and started taking the curtains down from the window there and measuring up around it.
“What are you doing?” asked Arabella.
The foreman turned, surprised. “His lordship wants a French window put in here.”
“A French window?”
“Yes, and a balustrade terrace outside.”
“Whatever for?”
“He says so his guests can enjoy their cocktails out on the terrace on a summer’s evening,” said the foreman as they started hammering the stonework around the window.
Arabella got up quickly and left the room as the hammering sound rattled around her head.
“What about the cleaning order?” called the housekeeper after her.
chapter 58
Marianne Radford dominated the dinner table with her clipped South African accent and her theatrical gestures.
“I so love your house. Of course back in South Africa my family had a beautiful ranch house and thousands of acres of farmland. That, of course, was before the Boer War started. One minute we were having tea on the veranda and the next thing we were being fired on! If I hadn’t got out in time I would have been rounded up and put in one of the concentration camps along with the rest of the women and children,” said Marianne, not looking at all upset at the thought.
“How awful! I believe what’s going on there is horrendous,” said Arabella.
“We Boers are being treated atrociously . . . But then I met Tommy and he came to my rescue like a knight in shining armour,” she said, leaning forward and tickling Tommy under the chin.
“That was lucky,” said Charles.
“It certainly was! He organised me and my family to be evacuated from South Africa on the first liner we could get on from Cape Town. Didn’t you, dinkidums?” She tickled him under the chin again.
“Eight people in all. I had to pull a lot of strings,” said Tommy.
“And did you then get married when you got here?” Arabella asked.
“No, before we left South Africa,” said Marianne.
“He made sure the deal was done before he got her out of the country,” Charles whispered to Victoria, causing her to stifle a laugh.
“And so here we are back living in your delightful colony,” said Marianne, smiling.
“It’s not a colony, sweetheart,” said Tommy. “It’s a country, part of the United Kingdom.”
“But for how long?” said Arabella. “It may be independent soon by the sound of things.”
“There will be a war first if they try to get independence,” said Charles.
“Oh, please, not another colonial war! I couldn’t bear it,” said Marianne.
“I shouldn’t worry – we Irish are great at talking about these things, but they never come to pass,” said Arabella.
“Yes, the Irish do like to talk,” confirmed Marianne. “Our neighbour back in South Africa was married to an Irishwoman. We used to call her Irish Kitty. Of course the poor woman became a raving alcoholic and then she just became known as Whiskey Kitty!”
Charles was going through the rent books in the library while James sat opposite him sullenly.
“This is unbelievable,” complained Charles. “There are more rents in arrears this year than last when Father was alive and running the show!”
“I know,” said James.
“Well, they can’t blame bad harvests this year. It’s good weather this year.”
James shrugged. “In the overall scheme of things, the majority of farmers are up to date with their payments and only a small number are in arrears,” he said.
Charles closed the rent books angrily. “They’re making fools of us! I’m sick and tired of them!”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, I think some of the farmers are sick and tired of you!”
“With me? But I never go near them or interfere with them – why would they be annoyed with me?”
“Exactly! You show no interest in them or their lives.”
Charles sat back arrogantly in his chair. “So what am I to do? Visit their hovels and pretend to enjoy their horrendous cooking while their brats paw me with dirty hands?”
“Yes, if that’s what it takes to build up a rapport with them,” urged James.
“I have no interest in building a rapport with them or indulging them.”
“Also giving the poachers to the police that time, well, it put you in a very bad light.”
“I really don’t know what’s wrong with this country! When a man can’t protect his own fishing rights and expect a normal business arrangement and have payments on time with his tenants without having to listen to their maudlin stories and tales of woe!”
James sighed heavily. “Yes, they resent paying over the rents because they see it as their land that we stole from them in the first place.”
“Our ancestors were given the land by the Crown – we didn’t steal anything from the fools! Besides, I can’t run my business based on healing imagined historic woes that happened long before I was born and have nothing to do with me. I need the estate to run on a profit –”
“To fund your extravagant parties and lifestyle?” James mocked.
“To fund anything I want with, as it’s my money!” retorted Charles. “No – no, I’m not going to let it continue. I think the tenants are taking advantage of Father not being here any more.” He picked up one of the rent books. “This family, Mulrooney, they are six months in arrears. We’ll tell them they have to settle up immediately. I’m running a business not a charity.”
Charles drove the motor car through the estate quickly with James sitting beside him holding on for dear life.
Charles turned into the gateway and down a long dirt track before pulling up abruptly outside the cottage sending hens and geese flying in all directions.
A woman and a man came out of the front door as Charles hopped out of the motor car, followed by James.
“Ah, is it yourself, Lord Armstrong?” said Jack Mulrooney.
“Yes, who else would it be?” said Charles. He found what he saw as the farmer’s insincerity irritating.
“We’re very honoured having a visit from you – I’m Maureen Mulrooney,” said the woman with a small curtsy.
“Have you come to see the sick calves?” Jack’s face was creased with tension.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t have any time to see sick calves. What I’m here for is to discuss the arrears on your rent,” said Charles.
“Sure we can’t sleep at night worried about it,” said Maureen. “Won’t ye come in for some tea and scones to talk about it?”
“I really don’t have time, thank you all the same. James! How much is in arrears?” snapped Charles.
“Five pounds and four shillings,” said James uncomfortably.
“Five pounds and four shillings
. We’ll give you three months to pay the arrears, I think that’s reasonable enough,” said Charles.
Maureen and Jack looked at each other in profound worry. “But sure we’ll never have that paid in that time. Not now the calves are sick and we can’t bring them to market.”
Charles looked around. “You have chickens and geese and sheep. Sell what you can and raise the money.”
“But, your lordship, that will never raise that much money!”
“Look, I feel sorry for your predicament, I really do. But it’s really nothing to do with me. I rent you land and this house and that’s where my interest stops,” said Charles.
Jack turned to James who remained speechless and appealed to him. “Master James!”
“Master James doesn’t have a say. He’s not Lord Armstrong, I am. Good day to you.” Charles turned and jumped into his car. “James – are you coming with me or do you want to walk back?”
James reluctantly turned around and sat into the car, tight-lipped.
“That’s how you do it, no nonsense. They’ll respect us all the more for it,” said Charles as he avoided a hole in the road.
That night James sat on the couch before a roaring fire in his farmhouse on the estate. It was well after eleven o’clock and he was getting worried. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and he went and opened it. Dolly Cassidy walked in and they embraced and kissed.
“What took you so long? I thought you said you were finishing early,” he said as he led her over to the couch.
“We had a bit of trouble in the bar I needed to sort out.”
Dolly Cassidy had grown up in that pub and there was no situation she couldn’t handle in it. He never had to worry about her.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“No, I had some stew earlier on,” She took off her shawl and he put his arms around her. “I’ll have a drop of wine though.”
The ticking clock struck midnight as James and Dolly lay out on the couch in each other’s arms and the fire began to die.
“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been quiet all night,” she said.
“It’s just Charles.”
“What’s the bastard done now?” she asked, her face turning sour at the mention of his name.
“He’s told Jack Mulrooney and his wife they’ve three months to pay their arrears,” said James.
Dolly sat up quickly and stared at him. “What? But sure they’ll never get them arrears paid in that time.”
“I know. I don’t know what they’ll do.”
Dolly smiled. “The bastard wouldn’t dare evict them. He wouldn’t dare!”
“You don’t know Charles – he does whatever he wants and he doesn’t care what people think.”
“But – he wouldn’t risk what could develop from an eviction . . . And can you not have a word with him?”
“I’m the last person he’ll listen to. He expects me to follow his commands without question. They’re having a garden party next month and he’s ordered me to go.”
“You – at a garden party!” She stifled giggles.
“I know. He wants to control me like he controls everyone else,” James said angrily, staring into the fire.
She cuddled up to him. “Well, don’t worry about it, love. I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
chapter 59
Charles parked the car outside the Radfords’ house and Marianne and the Colonel came out.
“I’m so excited! I’ve bought a new hat for the occasion – I’m so looking forward to this drive!” said Marianne as she sat up in the front of the car beside Charles.
“Sit in the back, Tommy,” she instructed.
Tommy looked sceptically at the motor car. “Actually, I think I’ll give it a miss. It looks a little bit unstable to me.”
“Quite stable, rest assured, Tommy!” said Charles, smiling at Marianne.
“No, I’m not going,” said the Colonel.
“But I’ve bought a new hat for it!” Marianne was devastated.
“You youngsters go off. I’ll stay behind.”
“Are you sure?” asked Marianne.
“Yes, you head off.”
“Oh, thank you, dinkidums, we won’t be long. Come along, Lord Armstrong, giddy-up!”
“Oh stop, stop!” begged Marianne as the motor car jumped along an uneven road.
Charles pulled over. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid I’m feeling a little seasick!”
“But we’re not on water.”
“Well, road-sick then! Oh, that’s better,” she said, loosening the collar on her blouse and undoing the first button. “It’s so warm today,” she said, fanning herself with her hat.
“Isn’t it?” He sat back and smiled at her.
“You drive the motor car most masterfully. I imagine you do everything masterfully.”
“I try to!”
“I was telling your wife how lucky she was in having you.”
“Did she agree with you?” he smirked at her.
“I don’t know. She talks in riddles.”
“She must have been drunk. She likes to drink.”
“You poor man. I know with Tommy what it’s like to live with a drinker.” She patted her face.
“Yes, I remember we used to call him Gin and Tommy!” Charles laughed.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I adore him! He rescued me from certain imprisonment in a concentration camp back home. I’ll always be grateful to him . . . But he’s so old!”
“Didn’t you realise how old he was when you married him?”
“I suppose I was carried away by the heat, dust and drama of the Boer War when I married him. He was a safe haven in very choppy seas.”
“We’ve all been there!” said Charles.
“Of course I could never have an affair,” she declared.
“No?”
“It would break his heart if he found out.”
Charles leaned forward and began to further unbutton her blouse. “Who said anything about him finding out?”
“My sentiments exactly,” said Marianne as she lunged towards Charles and kissed him.
Charles was walking down the busy main street in Castlewest, holding Prudence and Pierce by the hands. People smiled and nodded to them as they passed.
“Good afternoon, Lord Armstrong,” said some.
Charles never had an affinity with the locals. He always viewed them as so foreign to him. But since Lawrence had revealed that his true grandfather had been a local, Charles’ feelings towards them had intensified to utter disdain. He remembered his grandmother Lady Anna so well growing up. She had been such a graceful and dignified lady and he wondered over and over again what had driven her into the arms of a peasant. Whatever had possessed her to even contemplate such a thing? The knowledge of what she’d done gnawed away at him.
“Papa,” said Prudence, “may we please not have to go back to the house this afternoon for classes and stay with you instead?”
“You’ve already missed the morning classes, Prudence, so no,” said Charles.
“But the new governess is so stupid! She didn’t even know who the Tsar of Russia was yesterday.”
“Did you enlighten her?” He smiled down at his precocious daughter.
“Of course I did.”
“Good girl.” He patted her head.
“I wish Mama could order a right governess,” said Pierce.
“You mother does seem incapable of ordering anything correctly . . . except gin,” said Charles.
“Please, Papa, we don’t want to go back to the schoolroom today,” said Pierce.
Charles had planned a rendezvous with Marianne Radford later in the afternoon so it was impossible to meet their request.
“Sorry, children, not today. Anyway, it won’t be long until Pierce is finished with governesses. He’ll be off to school in England in a couple of years.”
“Why can’t he go to the school here in Castlewest?” said Prudence. “In that w
ay he won’t have to leave us, and he can come home every evening like the local children do.”
“Now, listen to me carefully, children – you must never forget as you go through life that we are not the same as the locals in any way. They have their world and we have ours.”
“Yes, Papa,” they both said together as they reached the motor car and climbed in the front with him.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Charles, ruffling Pierce’s brown hair. “Sneak out tomorrow after breakfast, and you can spend the day with me then. We’ll go fishing and shooting.”
“Oh, thank you, Papa!” they both said together happily. They adored being in Charles’ company. He had no restrictions or rules and let them do whatever they wanted.
Charles suddenly spotted Victoria walking down the street and shouted, “Victoria!”
“Hello there!” said Victoria, crossing over the street to them.
“Out doing some shopping?” asked Charles, spotting her full basket.
“Yes, just getting some supplies. Hello, Prudence – hello, Pierce!”
The two children stared back at her without saying anything.
“Where’s Harrison?” asked Charles, looking around.
“He’s coming in to collect me later. But I finished earlier than I expected.”
“We’ll give you a lift home, in that case,” offered Charles.
“Are you sure?” asked Victoria.
“Of course – children, get in the back seat and let your aunt sit up front.” Prudence reluctantly got into the back, glaring at Victoria as she sat up beside Charles and the motor car took off.
Arabella went into Prudence’s room to say goodnight.
“Mama, do we have to like Aunt Victoria?” asked Prudence as Arabella kissed her.
“No, you don’t have to like anybody you don’t want to. Why?”
“It’s just that Papa says we have to like Aunt Victoria.”
“Did he indeed? Well, you don’t. Besides, she’s not even your proper aunt, only by marriage.”
Prudence smiled happily. “Good, then I think I’ll choose not to like her.”