ISABELLA INSPECTED THE dining table. The cut glasses and crystal decanter sparkled against the crisp, white linen tablecloth, an arrangement of garden roses at the centre. She had checked that all was in hand with their new housekeeper Julia’s preparations in the kitchen. The lamb was roasting, the prawns in aspic were setting on ice in the cold room, the soup was made, the salmon ready to be served. For pudding there were twelve individual lemon possets in their glass serving dishes and a rich cream and apricot layered pastry tart to which Frederick was always partial.
Everything was in good order as Isabella went upstairs to dress before their guests arrived. Tonight she would wear the pale lavender-coloured silk dress which was based on a French design; Frederick said it made her look ‘très jolie’. Fixing her hair with a pretty mother-of-pearl comb, she made her way downstairs to wait for their guests.
They had invited three of Frederick’s dearest legal friends and their wives, her friend Henrietta and her husband Albert, and their neighbours Jerome and Iris Quinn who lived only a few houses away from them. She greeted each guest warmly as Julia took their wraps and jackets. Iris and Jerome were the last to arrive.
‘How is it the closer one lives to one’s hosts, the later one always seem to be?’ apologized Jerome as they joined everyone in the drawing room.
Isabella smiled to see that the conversation was already in full flow, which she considered a good omen for the rest of the evening. The men all stood together while the ladies sat in a group, laughing gaily. At the signal from Julia, they led their guests into the dining room.
‘What beautiful blooms, Isabella dear!’ exclaimed Dorothy Pearson.
‘The roses are all cut from our garden.’
‘You must have green fingers,’ put in Dorothy’s husband William, who was Isabella’s dinner companion.
‘Frederick is the one with the green fingers,’ she confessed. ‘He seems to be able to grow anything. This year we’ve had the most exquisite camellias and peonies, and he is growing tomatoes and plums for our table.’
Frederick flushed with pride as he accepted compliments, while Julia began to serve the prawns in aspic jelly decorated with cucumber and dill, and the wine was opened. Isabella kept an eye on everything to ensure that it was proceeding as expected. Soon the soup appeared, then the salmon followed and people discussed holiday plans.
‘We intend to retreat to a lodge in Kerry where there is good fishing for Robert,’ contributed Florence.
‘We are back in Wicklow as usual, but now we go only for the month of August,’ said Isabella, noting that the lamb was served perfectly pink, with a mint jelly made from their own garden mint. The men all went for second helpings but the ladies politely declined.
As the main course was cleared, Isabella felt she could relax.
‘What are the sentiments with regards to this Government of Ireland Bill that the House of Lords has just passed?’ asked Edward Whitestone.
‘Can you imagine a nationalist-run parliament in Ireland?’ responded William testily. ‘Ulster at least has been given a chance to vote on whether they wish to participate or not. Carson and his fellow Ulster MPs will never agree to sit with Redmond as leader in a new Irish parliament.’
‘It’s an intolerable state of affairs,’ complained Albert angrily, ‘with the nationalists demanding a parliament here in Dublin when we have a perfectly good parliament and representation in Westminster.’
‘The Government of Ireland Bill has passed through the House of Lords,’ said Frederick, ‘so there is not much more that can be done legally. Ulster will have their own vote to decide if they want to come under Dublin’s jurisdiction, but if they say no it means a divided Ireland.’
‘I’m afraid that Carson and his Ulster Volunteers will never accept Home Rule and not being part of the Union,’ said William. ‘And by all accounts, after Larne they have large numbers and are very well armed.’
‘Thank heaven for that, as we may well have need of them if this Home Rule nonsense persists,’ Henrietta interjected, her face flushed with annoyance.
‘Any Irish parliament would still report to the British one,’ Robert reminded them as he slowly sipped a glass of red wine. ‘But it most definitely is not an ideal situation for us to find ourselves in.’
‘It will go through,’ Frederick told them calmly. ‘It may be delayed but, as we all know, by law it will have to be passed.’
‘Why can’t the king interfere and put a stop to it?’ demanded Henrietta.
‘My dear, King George has apparently called a conference in Buckingham Palace to try to get the unionists and the nationalists to come to some sort of agreement on the Bill in the hopes of finding a resolution, but it is a very complex and difficult situation.’
‘I don’t envy him,’ sighed Iris. ‘They will never be able to reach agreement.’
‘I saw the Irish Volunteers brazenly training in the fields near our house,’ said Edward as the pudding was served. ‘They have huge numbers joining all across the countryside, prepared to fight for Home Rule and defend themselves from Carson and his forces.’
‘How sad – Irish men prepared to fight against other Irish men on the one island,’ tutted Iris.
‘It was ever so,’ nodded William. ‘Can anyone imagine an Irish parliament sitting in Dublin with Carson and Redmond at each other’s throats? What utter folly that would be!’
Everyone laughed aloud at the notion of it.
‘King George has more than enough on his plate given the shooting of Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Serbia a few weeks ago and the instability that event has caused in the region,’ said Frederick in a worried voice, smoothing his moustache. ‘It’s like a lit tinder keg ready to blow up.’
‘It was a foul deed,’ interjected Dorothy to everyone’s agreement.
‘I fear Frederick is right. Home Rule is not the only issue with which we should be concerning ourselves,’ said Robert. ‘It’s Europe and the situation with Kaiser Wilhelm and his pledge to support Austria against Serbia that we need to worry about.’
‘I think it is time the ladies and I retired to the drawing room.’ Isabella stood up. To her mind there had been quite enough politicking for one night. The gentlemen got to their feet politely as she led her female guests next door.
‘A wonderful meal, dear Isabella,’ said Iris.
‘You and Frederick are such good hosts.’ Dorothy smiled warmly, patting the seat beside her.
Isabella accepted the compliments of their friends. Of late she found they entertained less and less, but she was glad that they had made the effort tonight and that Julia had proved such a good cook.
‘Is it true that Sidney has gone to America?’ enquired Florence.
‘Yes, I’m afraid the house seems quiet without her,’ replied Isabella as Julia came in to serve the coffee. ‘She sailed only a few weeks ago and is staying with Ada in New York, hoping to write for some of the papers and magazines there.’
‘She was always a clever little thing,’ said Iris. ‘No doubt the American editors will adore her.’
‘Three of our six are abroad,’ sighed Francesca. ‘Married and settled in Kenya and Canada, but it is still a blow when they sail off to the other side of the world.’
‘Sometimes I wish our boys were young and back playing cricket in the garden.’ Iris stirred her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Jerome and I do so awfully miss them. They are both so far away.’
‘In time their regiments will come home,’ Dorothy said kindly. Isabella tried not to think of her own children, especially Sidney taking off to America despite their objections. She worried how her youngest daughter was faring in New York. As for the boys, they rarely bothered to write or reply to her letters.
‘Did I tell you that our Jack has finally proposed to Sarah?’ interjected Florence excitedly. ‘They are planning to wed in September and will travel for three weeks in Italy for their honeymoon. It’s so romantic!’
Isabella relaxed as the ladies’ talk turned to family matters, which it always did until the men rejoined them. Despite the politics, she considered that the evening had been a great success.