by A. O'Connor
“Any particular reason?”
“I don’t like the way she takes all Papa’s attention from us.”
“Does she?”
“Yes, like today, we met her in town and she forced me and Pierce to sit in the back of the motor car so she could sit beside Papa.”
“And where were you bringing her?” Arabella sat down on the bed.
“We were giving her a lift home. And then she invited Papa in to look at some painting she had bought and me and Pierce were stuck in the car for ages waiting for Papa to return. I think she’s selfish.”
“And . . . and was your uncle Harrison at home in the house at the time?”
“No, he’d gone shooting, she said.”
Arabella quickly smiled at her and bent to kiss her. “Go straight to sleep, there’s a good girl.”
chapter 60
Fennell walked around the tables that were arranged along the first terraced garden for the garden party, and covered with white linen tablecloths that fell to the ground. On each a silver tea service glistened in the sun.
Arabella came down the steps dressed in white and holding a white lace parasol.
“It’s a lovely day for the garden party, your ladyship,” Fennell said.
She agreed it was as she stood looking out at the glistening blue lake stretched out before them.
Charles came down the steps, dressed in white flannel trousers and a striped blazer.
“We’re all set, Fennell?” he asked.
“I think we can safely say we are, sir,” said the butler.
“What lovely weather! It reminds me so of South Africa,” said Marianne, kissing Charles on the cheek. “Now, remember, Charles, you promised to partner me in tennis today. You don’t mind, Lady Armstrong, if I steal him?”
“Be my guest, I never play tennis anyway,” said Arabella.
“Yes, so I heard.” Marianne gave her a dismissive look as she linked Charles’ arm and led him over to the tennis courts.
Victoria and Harrison arrived shortly after.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Victoria, kissing Arabella’s cheek. “Our motor car had a puncture.”
“That’s not a worry you’d ever have if you stuck with horses,” said Arabella.
“Carriages get punctures too, Arabella,” Victoria pointed out, tired of the fact that Arabella always had an answer for everything.
“Victoria, you’re looking lovely today, as ever,” greeted Charles, hurrying over and welcoming them warmly. Putting his arms around both Harrison and Victoria, he led them away from Arabella. “I need your advice on something. What do you think about investing in stock of an automobile manufacturer? I think, given another ten years everyone will be driving motor cars in Ireland.”
James walked around uncomfortably at the garden party, smiling and nodding to people. He took a cup of tea and walked off to the next flight of steps and went down to the next terraced garden which was quieter. He stood drinking his tea while looking out to the lake.
Victoria spotted him and, taking her own cup of tea, went down the steps to join him. She passed Prudence, Pierce and the other children playing a game.
“It’s unusual to find you at one of Charles’ do’s,” she commented to James, smiling.
He looked at her and grimaced. “I’m under orders. Charles insisted I came.”
“You don’t usually obey Charles’ orders, do you?” she asked.
“I used not, but now he’s Lord Armstrong he’s our lord and master, don’t you know?”
She smiled sympathetically at him. “Are we really so bad to spend a few hours with?”
“Oh, not you, Victoria!” He shook his head. He’d had many conversations with her since she arrived and found her nice to a fault. “Just the rest of them are a pain in the behind.”
“You’re very different from Charles – he lives for these parties and events.”
“That’s because he loves everyone saying what a great man and host he is,” said James.
“I’m surprised one of these young women haven’t whisked you off down the aisle yet,” she commented.
He jerked his head towards the party. “One of this lot? You must be joking. I wouldn’t be able to stick them and they wouldn’t be able to stick me!”
They put down their teacups and walked along the pathways into the gardens.
“Everyone says how hard you work on the estate all the time, but you don’t want life to pass you by as you’re busy sorting out tenants’ squabbles,” she said.
“I love my work on the estate,” he said.
“Well, as long as you’re happy, that’s the main thing I always think.”
“Oh,” he smiled, “I am, most of the time.” He looked at his watch. “I wonder, if I crept away would anyone miss me?”
“Have you something urgent on?” She noticed something in the expression on his face. “My gosh, James, you have someone, don’t you? Who is she?”
He went red with embarrassment. “Nobody – you don’t know her.”
She found herself getting excited. “Oh, go on, tell me, James. I won’t tell anyone.”
He sat down on the side of a fountain. “It’s nothing that serious. We’ve known each other for a long time though.”
“So, why can’t we all meet her?”
“She’s not one of us. She’s from the town.”
“Oh!” Victoria nodded.
“She runs Cassidy’s bar in the town . . . her family are the Cassidys . . . I’ve known her since we were kids. There’s nothing permanent in it. Neither of us expect something permanent or want it from each other. But we get on really well, do you know what I mean?”
“I do, yes.” She sat down beside him and put her arm around him.
“And none of your families know?”
“No. I think Charles suspects something, but he doesn’t know who she is,” said James.
“And what are you going to do about this situation?”
He started laughing. “Nothing, Victoria. Sure there’s nothing to be done. We’ll just enjoy being with each other until she gets married or I get married.”
“And then say goodbye to each other?” Victoria was aghast. “Oh, James, you can’t let that happen. I mean if you’ve found somebody who truly makes you happy, then you should do something about it.”
“Victoria, are you out of your mind? Dolly Cassidy, much as I like her, is a publican in town; I’m an Armstrong. It would never be accepted, and to be honest, I’m glad. Things are the way they are for a reason. Look what happened to Emily! Dolly would never be accepted by this world, and in the meantime her own world would turn on her. I mean, Dolly isn’t even from one of these Catholic professional doctor or solicitor families that are taking over the country. She’s a local girl, through and through.”
Victoria frowned in confusion. “So why don’t you just leave each other then and find somebody else?”
He smiled at her lamely. “Because neither of us wants to, or are sure if we’re able to – for now.”
Arabella sat drinking tea and chatting amicably to the guests. But Marianne Radford, who was playing mixed doubles and partnering Charles, kept distracting her by constantly screaming and grunting as she played tennis.
“One for the Boers!” Marianne would scream every time she smashed a victory ball to the other side of the court.
Arabella observed her husband playing with Marianne and spotted something. She wasn’t sure what, but there was a camaraderie that stretched beyond partners in tennis as they went up to each other and whispered something occasionally.
The Colonel had fallen asleep in his chair under the sun and suddenly Marianne was nowhere to be seen. Arabella scanned the crowd but was unable to spot her. She saw Charles hoof it up the steps from the garden and go into the house.
Arabella chatted away for another half an hour to the guests, but there was no sign of Charles reappearing. Concerned, she excused herself and walked up the steps and into the house.
Fen
nell was rushing through the hallway with another full teapot.
“Fennell, did you see Lord Armstrong?”
“I’m afraid not, your ladyship,” he said, continuing on outside.
She checked the rooms downstairs and there was no sign of him and then she went upstairs. Going into the bedroom, she saw he wasn’t there either and neither was he in the bathroom or dressing room of the bedroom. As she left the bedroom, she heard a woman’s giggle down the corridor. She went down the hallway to where she could hear whispers and giggles coming from the Blue Room. She went and stood outside the door and listened. Then she bent down and looked through the keyhole. She saw Charles and Marianne cavorting naked on the bed. She stood up quickly, her heart beating fast. She leaned against the wall as tears sprang to her eyes. And then as she felt anger she reached forward for the door handle and then stopped herself. She thought for a while as the groans continued to come from inside the room. Then she hurried down the corridor and down the stairs.
“Fennell – can you bring me the spare key for the Blue Room,” she ordered.
“Right away, my lady,” he said.
She paused before going outside and wiped away the tears stinging her eyes. She walked smiling across the forecourt and down to the garden party.
Fennell arrived a minute later. “The key, my lady,” he said, handing her the key. Taking the key she went and sat in the vacant chair beside Tommy Radford and gently nudged his snoring frame awake.
“What – what – oh I must have fallen asleep, Lady Armstrong,” said Tommy, waking up.
She smiled at him and then bent forward and started to whisper in his ear. His face started to turn red with fury. She then handed him the key which he snatched from her and stormed off up to the house. Arabella sat back and drank from her cup of tea, watching the house.
Finally Tommy Radford came storming out of the house and over to his carriage, followed by Marianne calling, “Dinkidums! Dinkidums!”
Arabella watched as Marianne jumped into the carriage beside him and Tommy whipped the horse and they sped off down the driveway.
Twenty minutes later Charles came sauntering out of the house and down to the garden party.
“Charles!” shrieked Victoria. “Whatever happened to you?”
Charles was sporting a swelling eye that was coming up in a black-and-blue bruise.
“Nothing, I just walked into a door,” he said, quickly sitting down and taking a cup of tea.
Arabella looked at him with disdain and satisfaction.
“One for the Irish!” she said to herself under her breath.
That night Arabella lay out on their bed sobbing. Their marriage was often a war of words, but this affair he had been having wounded her so much it hurt. She had never regretted marrying Charles in spite of everything, but as she thought of Harrison happily married she did feel regretful of other destinies that had passed her by or that she had willingly thrown away. And this affair he had been having with that Boer bitch Marianne Radford demonstrated exactly what he thought of her and their marriage. And yet she would not let Charles know how much he had hurt her. She would not even let him know she knew about his affair. She remembered her mother’s advice on her wedding night. To keep one step ahead of Charles, never trust him, never take her marriage for granted. Those words had saved her marriage thus far and they would continue to save it.
Prudence and Pierce came rushing into the room.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” asked Prudence as she and Pierce climbed up on the bed and started cuddling her.
She couldn’t stop crying and their comforting words only seemed to make her sobbing worse. Eventually she sat up and held them close.
“I want you both to promise me something. Whatever you do in life, never fall in love. Never give your hearts to anyone, as it’ll only cause you pain. Do you promise me?”
“We promise, Mama,” they both said together as they hugged her back tightly.
chapter 61
Present Day
The dining room had been refurnished with authentic antiques to replicate the era for the filming taking place there. Kate stood on the sidelines beside the director looking at the actors and actresses who sat around the table in Edwardian clothes.
Kate whispered to Brian. “I think Arabella wouldn’t be so exuberant. Studying her photos she seemed much more cool and aloof.”
Brian ignored her.
Kate whispered again. “And Charles would be much more charming. He never looked stern in his photos. That’s the whole point of Charles – he acted charming and cordial, but was ruthless beneath.”
“Kate!” snapped Brian.
“What?”
“Who’s directing this film?”
“You are but –”
“Then let me direct!”
Kate held up her hands and backed away from him.
Kate shut herself away in the library at Armstrong House as she continued to work through the stack of records there. She needed to find out who that car at the crime scene belonged to. She came across photos of what looked like an Edwardian garden party at the house. She studied the elegantly dressed people in the terraced garden, Armstrong House standing proudly in the background, and spotted Charles and Arabella amongst the people there. There were horse and carriages parked in the forecourt above the terraces belonging to the guests and parked off to the side she spotted a motor car. She took the magnifying glass she had been using on the photos and held the photo up to the light. Comparing it to the car in the crime-scene photo, she realised they could be the same.
As she looked at all the elegantly dressed Edwardians she said out loud, “One of you owns that car. One of you guests was somehow involved that night and led Charles to his assassin.”
She wondered how she could track down the owner of the car. Using the magnifying glass she couldn’t make out the vehicle’s registration number. As she researched the history of cars she realised registrations had started that very year – 1903. She decided to make contact with the Royal Irish Motor Automobile Club in Dublin and visit their archives.
“It was quite an exciting year for motor cars in Ireland in 1903,” said the guide. “The Gordon Bennet Race was held in Ireland that year. It had to be held in the United Kingdom as the UK had won it the previous year. Trouble was motor racing wasn’t legal in the UK, so the government passed a special act making it legal in Ireland only to honour the UK’s commitment, and the race was staged here.”
“I believe there was huge public concern over motor cars at the time,” said Kate.
“Oh yes, they were seen as dangerous playthings for the rich,” said the guide. “You’re researching for a film documentary?”
“That’s right, I’m trying to find out who owned a particular car that year and wondered if I could get any clue here,” said Kate.
“There were so few people owning cars, you might be able to find something. Most owners were members of the Royal Irish Automobile Club and it was a very exclusive club,” he said as he led Kate to the archives.
The guide looked at his watch.
“You’ve been very kind, thank you,” said Kate. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“Right, I’ll leave you to get on and hopefully find what you’re looking for,” smiled the guide as he headed off to his next appointment.
Kate spent the afternoon looking through Motoring Annuals and Yearbooks from the early 1900s. She was delighted when she found the Motoring Annual for 1903. She carefully looked through it and came to the list of members. As she scanned down the list of names she tried to see if any name jumped out at her that she might recognise as connected to the Armstrongs or with addresses near Armstrong House.
“Victoria Van Hoevan,” she said out loud as she recognised the surname.
She had known Nico was very distantly related to the famously rich American Van Hoevan family. As she continued to look through the Yearbook there were many photographs from the Gordo
n Bennett race that year. She stopped at one and stared at it. It was a photo of a man and a woman smiling happily, their arms around each other, leaning against a car at the race. Underneath, the caption read: Harrison Armstrong and his wife Victoria Van Hoevan Armstrong at the race, July 1903.
So Charles’ brother Harrison, who had given a statement in the police file and who had said he brought Charles to the hospital the night he was shot, was the relative married to the Van Hoevan who was the registered owner of a car.
She quickly opened her briefcase, took out the crime-scene photograph and compared it to the photo in the Yearbook.
“It’s the same car,” she said as she looked at the photos and saw the car registration plates were the same.
The man from the association approached her. “Any luck?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, I’ve found something very interesting, thank you. Could I get a photocopy of this item?”
The man went off to photocopy the photo from the races and Kate went to a computer he had given her permission to use. She went on to the 1901 census online and put in Harrison and Victoria’s name and found they were registered as living at Ocean’s End in Mayo.
“They were living only a few miles from Armstrong House and owned the car Charles was shot in,” said Kate aloud.
Book FOUR
1901–1903
chapter 62
Emily entered the house at Hanover Terrace and the butler closed the door behind her.
“Did you have a good day shopping, my lady?” he asked as she placed her parcels on the sideboard.
“Yes, thank you. Is Mr Fitzroy in?” she asked, taking off her coat and hat and handing them to him.
The butler looked uncomfortable. “He’s in the drawing room, my lady.”
She nodded and went to the stairs. As she walked up the stairs she steadied herself and then crossed the landing and went into the drawing room. She was immediately hit by a cloud of smoke. Hugh was stretched out on the couch smoking an opium pipe, the evening sky darkening outside the windows behind him.