Chapter 7
The second week of August, after the Dublin Horse Show which took place during the first week of August and was an immutable fixture on the Irish calendar, Cousin Digby Deverill and his family left Deverill Rising, their Wiltshire estate, and descended on Castle Deverill with enough luggage to last an entire year. Sir Digby and his wife, the flamboyant Beatrice, stayed with Maud and Bertie in the Hunting Lodge with their four very spoilt and insufferable children for four weeks. Celia was Kitty’s age exactly, twins Leona and Vivien contemporaries of Elspeth, and their son George a little younger than Harry and in the same house at Eton. Digby’s parents, Stoke Deverill, who was descended from Barton Deverill’s younger brother, and his wife Augusta, stayed in the castle with Hubert and Adeline. They all left England, as they did every year, with heavy trunks full of tennis rackets, riding habits, evening dresses, day dresses and dancing shoes, ready for the tennis parties, summer balls, dinner parties and lunch parties for which the Anglo-Irish were famous. In attendance was a retinue of lady’s maids, valets and Celia’s governess, Miss Springer.
This was Kitty’s favourite time of the year. Not only did she enjoy wriggling out of her governess’s clutches but she, Bridie and Celia formed a secret club to spy on the adults. Kitty’s sharp powers of observation meant she missed nothing and their game kept them entertained for the entire holiday. The highlight was the Summer Ball at Castle Deverill, to which the whole of West Cork came in their fine carriages and silk ball gowns and danced until sunrise. Kitty and Celia were allowed to stay up. Due to the excessive amount of alcohol consumed by the adults they were left to wander, infiltrate and observe. The small girls, going about the rooms unnoticed, often witnessed things the adults would have preferred they didn’t.
Maud tolerated Beatrice, who was a large soufflé of a woman, with big breasts and a big heart and a very big collection of the finest diamonds given to her by her entrepreneur husband who had made a fortune in the South African diamond mines. Indeed, Digby had been knighted by Queen Victoria for his services to the Crown, which infuriated Maud all the more because Beatrice was not only rich but titled as well. In Maud’s opinion Beatrice was brash and lacked breeding, but Kitty’s father enjoyed Digby because he was a great enthusiast. He could barely ride a horse, but galloped over the hills all the same, roaring with laughter every time he fell off. He couldn’t cast a fishing line but spent hours trying his luck in the sea and never minded if, by the end of the day, the only thing he had caught was an old bottle of rum from a sunken pirate ship. He brought with him the finest Cuban cigars, and whiskey and wine in large crates, and Beatrice gifted the girls silks and lace in the most luxurious colours. As a couple they were extravagant, affectionate and very grand but Kitty loved them for the laughter they brought into her home.
George, Leona, Vivien and Celia were spoilt, with an unsavoury air of entitlement lingering beneath their pert little noses. The girls always arrived in thick coats and hats, with woollen shawls wrapped tightly around their shoulders, complaining loudly of the cold, racing to huddle in front of the fire as if they’d arrived from the tropics. Beatrice brought extra blankets for the beds and soft bed socks for chilly feet. ‘This is an adventure,’ she would exclaim to her daughters as they grumbled about the damp linen and the faint but unmistakable smell of mice in their bedrooms. But they soon got swept along by the Irish way of life, dancing all night, playing croquet on the immaculately cut lawn, tennis on the grass court, picnicking on the beach in fine weather, dining up at the castle with the local gentry, giggling behind their hands at the eccentric behaviour of their cousins and their cranky friends. It wasn’t long before Leona and Vivien were pursued by the Irish boys, for not only were they blonde and beautiful, but rich as well, and for a declining society like the Anglo-Irish, the attraction of English money was irresistible. Celia loved nothing more than excitement and Castle Deverill provided all the intrigue and escapades she could dream of. She found the perfect partner in crime in Kitty. For a child who bored easily and was prone to sulking, her cousin Kitty was a tireless source of activity and fun.
Victoria had enjoyed a successful London Season staying with her cousins in their palatial Italianate home Deverill House on Kensington Palace Gardens. She returned to Co. Cork with an air of sophistication, as if she had grown out of Ireland and all that went with it and belonged instead in the ballrooms of London, among the landed gentry and aristocracy. She sighed at the drizzle and the damp as much as Leona and Vivien did and started most of her sentences with ‘In London . . .’ in a tone that implied everything was better there. She received letters from suitors and read them out loud to her mother and Beatrice, who pondered with indefatigable enthusiasm which earl or lord might make the best match for her. Kitty rolled her eyes and wondered why liking the man never came into consideration.
Kitty enjoyed Celia in spite of her petulance. Her cousin had her father’s sense of fun and her mother’s sense of mischief and she didn’t mind playing with Bridie, who she considered something of a curiosity with her funny accent and foreign vocabulary. Soon after the cousins arrived, Kitty, Bridie and Celia gathered among the tomatoes and grapes in one of Kitty’s grandmother’s greenhouses.
‘Victoria is very pleased with herself since she came back from London,’ said Kitty, chewing on a piece of wild sorrel.
‘I heard her telling Mama that she doesn’t want to live in Ireland any more,’ said Celia. She pulled a fig off its branch and examined it for insects.
‘I’d be very happy for her and Elspeth to go and live in London. I don’t like them at all. Mama doesn’t really like them much, either. She only likes Harry.’ Kitty lowered her voice and added darkly, ‘Do you know, I was meant to be a boy?’
‘How do you know?’ asked Celia.
‘I overheard Mama talking to Lady Rowan-Hampton in the drawing room. She said, “If only Kitty had been a boy . . .”’
‘So she didn’t want you at all?’ Celia gasped, her open mouth full of fig.
‘I’m sure she did,’ interrupted Bridie, who tended to say less when Celia was present.
‘No, she didn’t. I was a disappointment. One day when I have a baby girl I will love her very much.’ Kitty grinned, for she wasn’t one for self-pity. ‘Let’s do something really wicked.’
‘Oh let’s!’ Celia clapped her hands. With Kitty life was always full of excitement and mischief.
‘Perhaps, if we find a frog, Victoria might kiss it in the hope that it turns into a prince. What do you think?’ Kitty laughed. ‘Shall we see if we can find one?’
‘Where would we find a frog?’
‘Down by the river. If we go to the lily pond we’ll risk being seen,’ Kitty replied. ‘What do you think, Bridie?’
‘As long as I don’t have to touch it,’ she replied anxiously. ‘Frogs give you warts.’
‘That’s an old wives’ tale, Bridie,’ said Kitty. ‘Come on. Last one at the river is a rotten egg!’
The three girls ran through the garden. When they reached the wall Celia complained that she’d dirty her dress on the stones. ‘Isn’t there a gate?’
‘Not if we want to go unnoticed,’ said Kitty.
Celia sighed and watched Kitty scale it like a lizard, followed closely by Bridie, whose dress was already dirty so it didn’t matter. Celia clenched her fists and stuck out her bottom lip. ‘I can’t,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll have to use the gate and risk being caught.’
‘No, you must climb it. It’s not difficult,’ Kitty insisted.
But Celia didn’t move. She folded her arms and went red in the face with indignation. ‘You can’t make me!’
At that moment there came the sound of footsteps on the leafy ground behind them. Kitty swung round, half expecting to find the three tinkers poaching again. She was relieved to see Jack’s freckly face grinning at her from beneath his cap, his beagle trotting along beside him. ‘So, there you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I thought you were a tinker,’ said Kitty.
‘No tinker would dare enter these woods after . . .’ He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Bridie who stood camouflaged against the wall in her brown dress like a scrawny partridge. Bridie’s face lit up when she saw him, and she swept back her knotted hair with a grubby hand.
‘Celia won’t climb the wall,’ said Kitty.
‘Come on, Celia. I’ll give you a hand,’ said Jack. He jumped easily onto the wall and reached down. Celia reluctantly accepted his aid and let him pull her up. She smoothed down her dress and checked for signs of dirt. Jack laughed. ‘What are you girls up to?’
‘We’re going to find a frog,’ said Bridie.
‘We want to give it to Victoria to see if it turns into a prince with a kiss,’ said Kitty with a giggle.
‘You’ll be kind to it now, won’t you?’ Jack asked, concerned.
‘We’ll put it back where we found it, I promise.’
‘Then I’ll show you where to find one. Follow me.’ At that moment Jack’s pet hawk swooped out of the sky and landed onto his thick, protective glove. ‘He’s been hunting for rabbits and mice,’ said Jack. ‘So far, he hasn’t found anything.’
‘That’s because Papa is out with Cousin Digby and the boys and they’re killing everything that moves,’ said Kitty.
Jack led the way through the long grasses into the crevice of the hillside where the water trickled down to the sea. It was dark among the ferns and moss. Bridie stood behind Kitty as she crouched down. She didn’t fancy getting too close if one hopped into view. Jack stood in the middle of the stream, hands on hips, gazing about him, more interested in his hawk than in the search for frogs. Celia kept shouting from the bridge, ‘Have you found one yet?’
At last Kitty spotted a small olive-brown frog among the stones at the water’s edge. With a gasp of excitement, she gently picked it up and cupped it in her hands. ‘Jack!’ she hissed. ‘I’ve found one!’ Jack peered between her fingers.
‘Have you got one?’ Celia was jumping up and down with excitement.
‘It’s a small one,’ said Jack. ‘Do you know it can change its colour to blend in with its surroundings?’
‘Will it go pink then, to match my skin?’ she asked.
‘No, it takes two hours to change. It might go a yellow colour if you give it time. You should carry it on a bed of leaves, not on your skin. You might harm it.’ He bent down and started looking about for suitable foliage.
Bridie peered gingerly into Kitty’s hand. ‘Is it cold and slimy?’ she asked.
‘It feels soft and damp,’ Kitty replied happily. Jack helped her arrange the frog onto the leaves. ‘You have to help me up, Jack. I can’t use my hands.’
Jack laughed and swept Kitty into his arms. ‘You’re like a sack of potatoes, you are,’ he said, striding back up the bank. Bridie looked on enviously. She wished Jack would carry her up the bank too. But she scrambled out by herself and watched Kitty showing the frog to Celia. As she observed the two cousins with their heads together, one red and one blonde, but both so similar in attire and language, she felt a swell of pride that at least Jack was from her world and not theirs. They were united by a common culture, whereas Kitty and Celia were so very different, being English and aristocratic. Jack might be fond of Kitty, but he would never be allowed to think of her as his equal.
‘Bridie, will you find us something to put it in?’ Kitty asked when they got back to the castle, trying not to look guilty as one of the footmen walked past. She knew they were expected for lunch and their sisters and mothers would probably be in the drawing room already with Adeline, and Celia’s grandmother Augusta.
Bridie disappeared, returning a moment later with the box of Fry’s assorted chocolates that Beatrice had bought in Harrods and which the family had polished off the night before. ‘Where are you going to put it?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Kitty, arranging the frog on its bed of leaves inside. ‘I’ll think about that when we’re up there.’
‘Leona and Vivien will die of fright,’ said Celia excitedly. ‘I can’t wait to see their faces.’
‘I can’t wait to see Victoria’s and Elspeth’s. And Mama’s. Let’s not forget Mama.’ Kitty giggled. ‘She hates creepy-crawlies more than anyone. Let’s catch a mouse next time and put it in her bed!’
Kitty and Celia washed their hands and faces and tidied their hair as best they could before sneaking up the servants’ staircase and through the green baize door into the hall. Kitty put the chocolate box on the table behind a large display of lilies. ‘It’ll be safe there for a while,’ she said confidently, taking Celia’s hand.
They walked innocently into the drawing room where the women sat chatting over glasses of sherry on sofas and armchairs, the girls huddled in the corner talking quietly among themselves, while the men stood smoking beside the fireplace.
‘Ah, here are the little devils,’ said Hubert, watching with pride as his granddaughter walked in with the hem of her dress smeared with mud and her untameable red hair coming away from the ribbons that swept it off her face. ‘What have you two been up to?’
Kitty stood before him. ‘Nothing, Grandpa. We’ve been in the greenhouse,’ she replied.
‘Plotting, no doubt,’ added Cousin Digby with a chuckle. Maud glanced over from her seat on the sofa and a shadow of irritation darkened her face as she noticed Kitty’s dirty dress, but before she could say a word Adeline reached out her hand.
‘Kitty my dear. Come over here and tell me what you’ve been doing all morning. You look like you’ve been digging a hole in the garden.’ Kitty walked up to her grandmother, glancing down at her dirty shoes, aware of her mother’s disapproval.
‘Miss Grieve has been neglecting her duty,’ said Maud frostily, noticing how pristine Celia looked.
Adeline laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s poor Miss Grieve’s fault. I would imagine Miss Grieve has a hard time keeping track of this child’s whereabouts! How did you manage to get so grubby while Celia remained so clean?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kitty replied, glancing at Celia in a silent plea not to tell.
‘You take after your grandfather,’ said Adeline. ‘He can never stay out of the mud either!’
Cousin Beatrice joined in with exuberance. ‘Celia turns into a savage the moment she sets foot in Castle Deverill. I’m surprised her dress is clean. Perhaps it’s in the air, but every summer here in Ireland is a great adventure, isn’t it, Celia? An adventure we all look forward to with enormous anticipation.’
‘I suspect this year will be my last,’ interrupted Augusta grimly. Celia’s grandmother was a handsome woman with thick grey hair swept up onto the top of her head, large drooping breasts contained behind reams of black lace and emeralds, and wide arthritic hips. She was tall and broad and dwarfed her husband who was diminutive in stature as well as build, with a small face dominated by a sweeping white moustache. Her favourite subject was death and no one’s fascinated her more than her own. ‘I spent my whole life thinking of everyone else but myself and here I am now with a lifetime of regrets and broken dreams. Oh to be young again,’ she sighed. ‘When I was a girl I thought old age would never arrive, but here I am, one breath away from the grave.’ She didn’t notice Leona and Vivien rolling their eyes. ‘If you hear noises in the middle of the night, do not worry, it is only me, talking to God.’
‘Nonsense, Augusta. You’ll outlive us all,’ said Adeline, who seemed to find extra reserves of patience when it came to Cousin Augusta.
‘I’ve told Stoke that I don’t want any fuss when the time comes. Just a little church service with close family and friends.’
‘I don’t think you’ll care, Augusta,’ said Adeline. ‘You’ll be far away.’
‘My dear Adeline.’ Augusta placed a hand on Adeline’s and squeezed it. ‘I trust you to make sure that Stoke doesn’t spend money unnecessarily. You know how he is. I am a humble woman who does not need pomp and ceremony. I will l
eave the world quietly and peacefully as I have lived my life.’
At last lunch was announced and the family began to move from the drawing room. Elspeth and Victoria led the way into the hall, followed closely by Leona and Vivien. Stoke dutifully assisted his wife as she heaved herself up, leaning heavily on the walking stick and less heavily on her frail husband. Kitty grabbed Celia and hurried into the hall to retrieve the chocolate box. But when they got to the table they discovered, to their horror, that it had gone. ‘What are we going to do?’ hissed Celia. ‘It could be anywhere!’
‘One of the servants must have removed it.’ Kitty sighed.
‘Do you think they’ve thrown it away?’
‘I don’t know. Oh dear! This is very inconvenient.’
‘Shall we go and ask someone?’
‘Come along, girls,’ said Beatrice, striding into the hall. ‘I bet you’re both hungry, or have you been eating your way through the greenhouses?’
‘No, Mama. We’re very hungry,’ said Celia.
Kitty reluctantly walked into the dining room with Celia and Cousin Beatrice, trying not to worry about the fate of the poor frog and her promise to Jack.
The adults sat down at one end of the table, presided over by Hubert whose place was always at the head, while his grandson Harry sat at the foot, surrounded by his young sisters and cousins. Bored by female company, he talked across them to George about their plans for the afternoon. Kitty pushed her food around her plate. All she could think about was the frog. Victoria and Elspeth kept looking at her and smiling, as if they knew something she didn’t. Then suddenly Kitty saw the box. It was placed directly in front of her mother. The blood drained from her face as she realized her two sisters had discovered it on their way through the hall. She caught Elspeth’s eye, but Elspeth looked away before she could ensnare her with her furious gaze.
Songs of Love and War Page 8