‘I have to talk proper up there,’ said Bridie, pleased that he’d noticed. ‘I’m a lady’s maid.’
‘It’s grand, Bridie.’
She looked at his profile and wondered where the boy had gone for he was surely a man now. ‘Michael doesn’t want me and Mam working for the Deverills but he can’t deny my wages.’
‘They’re generous, I give them that.’
‘And you, Jack? How are you? We don’t see much of you these days.’
He sighed heavily, the sigh of a man whose days were burdened with toil and uncertainty. ‘It’s all work and no play, Bridie. With Dad fighting—’
‘I pray for him, Jack.’
‘So do I,’ he said quietly.
As they parted at the end of the road, where the town stopped and the countryside began, Bridie turned. ‘You won’t tell Kitty now, will you, Jack?’
‘May the Devil carry me if I ever do,’ he replied, taking off his cap and waving it at her. ‘Tell her I say hello.’
Bridie laughed. ‘For all the good it will do! Kitty has eyes only for Mr Trench!’ and she walked back to the castle with a bouncing stride.
Kitty hurried through the garden, holding tightly onto her shawl so it didn’t blow away. She looked around once or twice to make sure that she wasn’t being followed, or watched. Brown leaves were heaped into piles, discarded by the wind and left to rot with the summer foliage. The borders, once bright with flowers, were now bare and decomposing for the old gardeners didn’t have the time or the energy to cut back and clear away. Kitty hurried on, her breath leaving her lips in puffs of smoke, her red hair loose and wild, curled into thick waves by the damp.
When she reached the wall she stopped. Glancing around like a vixen about to steal a hen, she made sure that she was quite alone. When she was satisfied that only the rooks spied from the treetops she crouched down and removed a loose stone, clothed in a soft covering of green moss. Behind it, in the dry hole, was a white piece of paper folded neatly into a square. Jack always folded his paper in the same way, doubling it over, tucking it in, so that once opened it was impossible to fold again. She pulled out of her skirt pocket the note she had written and placed it in the hole, securing it safely behind the stone.
She hurried excitedly to one of the greenhouses and sat on the iron bench where she used to sit with Celia and Bridie in the summertime and they’d hatch their plots. Now she was alone. She took a deep breath and opened the note.
Beautiful Kitty of mine, I saw a fox today as I was riding to Morgan’s Point. She had a bright, wary gaze. I thought of you and I thought of us and my heart filled with gladness. Whatever happens I will always thank God for you, Kitty, my own little fox. I am the luckiest man in all of Ireland. As I write the word I realize now that I was wrong to accuse you of being English. To me you are Ireland, Kitty, in every way. I will meet you at the Fairy Ring at sunset, if you can get away. I hope you can. I miss your kisses. Your loving Jack.
Kitty read it again then pressed it to her heart with a long, satisfied sigh. It never occurred to her that her future with Jack was by no means assured. They were from opposite sides of the social and religious divide and she was well aware that she was expected to marry an Englishman. But Kitty loved Jack and to her their love was strong enough to smash through every barrier. She knew in her heart that nothing would keep them apart, not her mother nor her father, and she could count on her grandmother to fight for her.
She didn’t waste time changing into her riding habit but hurried to the stables to saddle her mare, mounting in her black buttoned boots, dress and shawl. Mr Mills was nowhere to be seen, but one of the stable lads watched her curiously from beneath his black fringe, wiping his dirty hands on an old rag.
Kitty felt a sense of defiance and freedom. No one could tell her what to do or when to do it. She was seventeen now and the stable boys stood for her when she stepped into their midst. Her mother was in England, her father at the front, her grandfather in Dublin, where he seemed to now spend a great deal of his time. If her grandmother saw her riding out in her dress she would smile to herself and shake her head, for Adeline admired her granddaughter’s spirit. As for Mr Trench, he was her tutor, not her nanny, and was in no position to question her whereabouts. But as Kitty galloped up the avenue of trees he was returning from a long walk around the estate. She didn’t see him crossing the lawn where they played croquet in the summer months, his footsteps darkening the wet grass as he went, and she didn’t see the wistful expression on his face as he removed his glasses and gazed after her. She was too busy looking at the setting sun.
Once at the Fairy Ring she dismounted and flung herself into Jack’s embrace. The wind blew in salty and cold and he wrapped his arms around her tightly to shelter her. His lips found hers through her tangle of hair that flew about her head in long red tendrils like a mermaid’s in the sea. She pressed herself against him so that not even the wind could slip between them. He was warm and solid and familiar and she inhaled his scent like a drunkard smelling whiskey after a day of sobriety. Jack kissed her icy cheeks and her soft neck then held her face in his hands to look at her. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Kitty Deverill.’
‘And you’re a handsome man, Jack O’Leary.’ She laughed, gazing into his eyes which were old and wise beyond his years.
‘I love the bones of ya.’
‘And I love the bones of you too. Every one.’
‘Do you love me more than Mr Trench?’ His tone was light but his eyes betrayed his anxiety.
Kitty frowned. ‘What’s brought that on? I don’t love Mr Trench at all.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea, Jack?’
‘I’m a jealous man, Kitty.’
‘You have no need to be jealous. I’m yours, body and soul. Don’t ever doubt that.’ He kissed her again, deeply and fiercely, as if he knew in his heart that one of these days he’d kiss her for the last time; that Kitty would never belong to him. And Kitty, unaware of his deep fear, laughed at his fervour and lifted her chin so he could bury his face in her throat.
Maud returned to Castle Deverill with Victoria, Elspeth and Harry for Christmas. Harry had insisted on coming. He was still recovering from the wound to his shoulder. When Kitty saw him she was immediately struck by how different he looked. Gone was the carefree boy and in his place a man, haunted by what he had lived through, haunted by what he had seen. Maud fussed over him more than ever and instead of tolerating her he lost his temper, stunning her into silence by his uncharacteristic outbursts. He insisted on having Joseph as his valet and only Kitty knew why. She didn’t dare enter his room in case she found them in bed together again, but something told her that Harry wouldn’t mind. The fact that she knew his secret seemed not to bother him any more. If anything it brought them closer. He sought her company on long walks up and down the beach and rowing out to sea in their father’s fishing boat, and, although it was never mentioned or even alluded to, he was more at ease in her company than in anyone else’s.
Bridie listened to the chitchat in the kitchen. Molly, the maid with whom she shared a room, was an avid gossip. Assigned to look after Kitty’s mother and sisters, she revealed that Maud was prone to shouting at her daughters, who were clearly afraid of her even though the eldest was a countess. She was particularly impatient with Elspeth, reminding her at every opportunity that she was getting old and if she didn’t find a husband soon she would be left gathering dust on the shelf. Elspeth had replied, in her defence, that there were precious few men around, to which Maud had snapped, ‘If you can’t find a duke, find a crippled duke, but for goodness’ sake don’t humiliate me. I don’t want to be the mother of a spinster.’ Bridie was shocked by that revelation. She couldn’t imagine a mother being so heartless, but Maud was a vain and self-centred woman. Only Harry drew her out of herself. ‘He’ll find a suitable bride,’ Molly reported her saying to her daughters. ‘He’s handsome and heroic and heir to a great estate. He’ll have to fight them
off. It’s a great shame you weren’t all born boys.’
Kitty only spoke to her mother when she had to. She was always polite, kept her sentences short and made sure she asked her about herself. ‘There won’t be a London Season next spring,’ her mother told her over lunch the day before Christmas. ‘So you might as well stay here.’
‘How will Kitty find a husband then?’ asked Victoria smugly. ‘Poor Elspeth hasn’t had much luck.’
‘Is that the only thing that concerns you, Victoria? Marriage?’ said Kitty.
‘What else is there?’ her sister replied.
‘If that’s the only option for a woman I rather wish I’d been born a man,’ Kitty retorted.
Elspeth rolled her eyes. ‘You sound like a suffragette.’
‘Suffragettes don’t want to be men, Elspeth, they just want equality,’ Kitty said, bored by her sisters’ ignorance.
‘A woman’s place is in the home,’ Hubert interrupted. ‘Politics is no place for the fairer sex.’
‘I do feel for young women these days,’ said Adeline. ‘The war is wiping out an entire generation.’
‘Then we’ll all have to marry Irishmen,’ said Kitty provocatively. Her words got the reaction she hoped for.
Maud’s lips pursed furiously. ‘That’s a ridiculous idea, Kitty,’ she exclaimed.
‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Elspeth rejoined, thinking of Peter MacCartain, who she had always found handsome.
‘Deverill girls are no beggars,’ said Hubert. ‘My granddaughters will marry the finest England has to offer.’
‘The finest are being shot in their thousands,’ said Harry suddenly. ‘Mother, I think it’s disgusting that all you can think about is marrying your daughters off. Men are dying over there and those who aren’t will never be the same again. Excuse me if I don’t sympathize with your predicament.’
Maud paled. Hubert wiped his mouth with his napkin. O’Flynn stood to attention as if he hadn’t heard. ‘That’s enough, Harry,’ said his grandfather sternly. ‘The war is indeed robbing the nation of its young men, but life must go on and your sisters must marry. It is a natural concern for a mother.’
‘Don’t think I don’t worry about your father, Harry,’ said Maud stiffly, her jaw tightening as if in a vice. ‘Don’t think I don’t grieve for Rupert and George and all the other boys we know who have lost their lives in the war. Don’t think I don’t grieve for you and ask myself where the gentle boy I raised has gone.’
Harry looked at her steadily. ‘He died on the battlefield, Mother. It is no place for a boy.’ Maud’s eyes glittered.
Adeline gestured to O’Flynn to take the plates away. ‘Let’s raise our glasses to Bertie,’ she said. ‘Let’s pray for his safe return and an end to this beastly war.’ They all lifted their wine glasses and in that, at least, they were united.
The following day the family went to church. Hubert drove Adeline, Harry, Maud and Victoria in the Daimler while the others went in the pony and trap with Mr Mills. Kitty and Elspeth sat side by side beneath a blanket and for a while neither spoke. They looked out under their hats at the bleak countryside and the gulls wheeling like gliders in the ice-cold sky, each alone with their thoughts. Then, finally, Elspeth spoke. ‘I loathe Mama,’ she said.
Kitty was stunned. She turned to face her sister and noticed how pale and thin she looked. ‘Are you unwell?’
‘I’m sick of her,’ she said bitterly. ‘I envy you, Kitty. You’re here with Grandma and Grandpa and you can do what you like. Why do I have to live with her in Kent? It’s like being imprisoned.’
‘Surely it’s not that bad.’
‘Eric’s a bore.’ Elspeth laughed guiltily. ‘He’s the dullest man in England.’
Kitty put her glove to her mouth. ‘Elspeth, Victoria would kill you if she heard you denouncing her husband.’
‘She doesn’t love him. I’m not even sure she likes him. But he’s rich and that’s all that matters.’ She looked at her sister forlornly. ‘Isn’t there more than that? Isn’t it possible to feel something for one’s husband?’
‘Grandma loves Grandpa, I’m certain of it,’ said Kitty, thinking of Jack and feeling the familiar warmth envelop her heart like a fur glove.
‘Do you think Mama loves Papa?’ Elspeth asked.
‘In her own way,’ Kitty replied truthfully. ‘I don’t think Mama truly loves anyone other than herself.’
Elspeth turned away and sighed. ‘She never liked you. Why?’
Kitty shrugged. Even though she didn’t like her mother, her rejection still hurt. ‘I don’t know.’
‘She’s frightened of you, I think. I can see it in her eyes. She can’t control you. That’s why. You have spirit. I wish I had spirit like you.’
‘I’m not like her,’ said Kitty.
‘You’re not like Papa either. You’re like Grandma. Really, the two of you are like mother and daughter.’
‘Grandma’s been more of a mother to me than Mama could ever be.’
Elspeth took her hand suddenly and squeezed it. ‘I want us to be friends, Kitty,’ she said with passion. ‘I’m sorry I was ever horrid to you. I bitterly regret it. I was a beast.’
‘I’d like us to be friends, too,’ said Kitty. She smiled at her sister and realized that a person isn’t all bad or all good but a complicated mixture of the two. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t save you from Mother.’
‘Then who can?’ she asked pitifully.
‘A man,’ Kitty replied. ‘You have to fall in love and marry and then, at least, you will belong to someone else.’
‘Exchanging one master for another,’ said Elspeth dully.
‘No, exchanging a master for an equal partner. You don’t have to marry an Eric, Elspeth. You can marry whoever you want to.’ Kitty folded her hands in her lap and sat up straight. ‘I can assure you, that’s exactly what I am going to do.’
Chapter 14
Maud stayed until New Year when she departed with Victoria, Elspeth and Harry on the boat for England, wrapped warmly in an exquisite fur coat. Out of all of them Harry was the most sorry to leave. Kitty recognized love, for that’s what it was. It wasn’t conventional, but she knew that in his own way Harry loved Joseph like she loved Jack and her heart went out to him. She hugged him tightly and watched him go, his eyes full of regret. Due back at the front in January he wondered whether he’d live to see his inheritance.
Kitty worried constantly about her father and brother but she took great consolation from Jack, knowing that whatever happened he wouldn’t go off to war. That was until David Lloyd-George, the British Prime Minister, decided to extend conscription to Ireland. ‘Bloody good idea!’ said Hubert, puffing on his cigar and raising his eyes over his playing cards. ‘Ireland is part of Great Britain and we have to fight together.’
Kitty’s heart froze. ‘That will mean all young men in Ireland will have to fight?’ she whispered.
‘Absolutely.’
The Shrubs, who had come for dinner and a game of whist, weren’t so sure. ‘I can’t bear to think of more young men being sent out to die,’ said Hazel. ‘Don’t you agree, Laurel?’
‘I think we should surrender at once and stop the killing,’ said Laurel.
‘Good God, woman, what have you got inside that head of yours? Sawdust?’ Hubert spluttered.
‘If we surrender, those young men would have died for nothing,’ said Adeline from the armchair where she was sipping cannabis tea.
‘But they can’t make the Irish fight, surely?’ said Kitty with forced calmness.
‘Of course they can, and they will,’ said Hubert. ‘Goddamn it, we have to win the war. Right now we’re on the back foot. We need more men. There are plenty here. They can turn their violent intentions in the right direction. Do them good to know who the real enemy is.’ He turned his attention to his cards again. ‘Now where were we?’
Kitty felt faint. ‘I think I need some air,’ she said, pushing out her chair.
‘Oh,’ sa
id Hubert, let down. ‘I was enjoying myself. Don’t be long.’
Kitty went outside where she sat on the steps leading up to the front door and hugged her knees. She didn’t think she’d survive if Jack went to war. She gazed up at the stars, bright and twinkling, and wondered what God thought of the mess human beings had made of the world. Her heart ached for Jack. She longed for him to hold her and reassure her that he’d never go to war. That in spite of the conscription law, he’d refuse. Surely they couldn’t make him? She put her head in her hands and squeezed back tears. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted and she wondered whether Jack heard him too in his house in Ballinakelly, and whether he was thinking of her.
A while later, when she had composed herself, she returned to the library. At first she thought they were all drunk, but then she realized that it was her grandmother’s cannabis which she was generously sharing with her sisters. The Shrubs had flopped onto the sofa and were lying back against the cushions giggling inanely. ‘Oh, he was a looker!’ Laurel was saying, barely able to get her sluggish tongue around the words. ‘Hazel, tell Adeline what you said to me.’
‘I can’t,’ Hazel replied before bursting into a fit of laughter. ‘I truly can’t. Our dear mother would turn in her grave.’
‘You must. We’re all family here.’ Laurel put her hand to her head. ‘I do feel dizzy.’
‘Why doesn’t he come and shoot any more?’ Hazel asked. ‘Hubert used to invite him. He was so dashing and brave, like an old-fashioned knight.’
‘Who?’ Kitty asked from the doorway.
‘The Duke of Rothmeade,’ said Hazel. ‘He was here all the time in the old days. As permanent as this sofa.’
‘A fine-looking young man he was too,’ said Laurel. ‘But he suddenly stopped coming. Now, why was that?’
‘Didn’t he have a thing for Maud?’ Hazel asked, giggling again. ‘I remember the two of them being joined at the hip and the look on Maud’s face—’
‘Now you’re going too far,’ said Adeline quickly, cutting her sister off mid-sentence.
Songs of Love and War Page 15