‘Good day t’ye miss,’ said the coachman, a tall, angular figure, dressed as if it were still the middle of winter. ‘Can ye tell us how far we’re off Currane Lodge?’ he asked, as John swung her over the low wall that bounded the road and set her back on her feet. ‘We can’t be far, but I’ve niver been here afore.’
On the road itself it was hot and still and very dusty. Not a trace of a breeze. Pestered by the flies attracted to their sweating bodies, the four greys were swishing their tails and tossing their heads uneasily.
‘You’re not far indeed,’ said Rose agreeably. ‘About a mile perhaps to the main entrance, but the farm entrance is nearer. It’s just a cart track but its bone dry at the moment and the trees make it shady.’
‘An English mile or an Irish mile?’ asked the coachman doubtfully.
‘Is there any difference?’
‘Ach aye,’ said John promptly, nodding his head towards the coach. He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Any sort of a mile would be too far for m’ lady. She’s not one for walkin’.’
From the coach itself came a loud banging. The small, shiny box vibrated on its springs, making the greys fidget even more. The door flew open, but no one emerged.
‘John, John, where are you?’ called a peremptory voice. ‘What is going on? Come here this minute and tell me what’s the matter.’
John looked from the coachman to Rose and back again, as if he hoped between them they’d solve his problem, but the coachman just smiled wryly and shrugged his shoulders. When she saw the look on John’s face, Rose had to smile too. He couldn’t have been doing the job for long if he’d let that tone of voice bother him.
‘Pegasus has thrown a shoe, m’ lady, an’ hurt the frog of his foot forby,’ he explained, standing by the open door and leaning into the gloomy interior.
‘And what do you propose to do about me?’ she asked crossly. ‘Leave me to perish by the wayside while you commiserate with Pegasus? I’m sure I heard a woman’s voice a few minutes ago. Who was it?’
‘Yes, m’ lady. I went to ask a young lady how far it was to the Lodge.’
‘And how far is it?’
‘Well then, one of you go and ask Sir Capel to send his coach for me. He can’t be using it when we’re expected. Where’s this “young lady” of yours, John? Let her come up to me while I wait.’
Rose glared at John as he turned away from the open door and stepped over to where she and the coachman were standing, near enough to have heard every word.
‘Lady Ishbel would like you to go up to sit with her while one of us walks to Currane Lodge for the coach,’ he said, looking at her doubtfully.
Rose sighed. There was nothing for it. If Lady Ishbel was a guest at the house, the discourtesy of not doing as she asked would certainly be reported to Lady Caroline. She wiped her damp forehead and took a deep breath. When she climbed up the hillside, she thought she’d escaped duties for the whole afternoon. It never occurred to her she might be brought down again to spend the rest of it in a hot little box of a coach entertaining a cross old woman.
She waited by the open door of the coach for John to lower the step, but either he’d forgotten where it was, or he was in such a hurry to get away he made no move to release it. He simply came up behind her, put his hands round her waist and swung her up so that she landed neatly in the seat facing Lady Ishbel.
‘Well, then,’ said Lady Ishbel promptly, ‘you’re an elegant young lady for these parts. Who are you and where do you come from?’
Rose collected her wits. She was not used to being picked up and put down again twice in fifteen minutes, she was furious at the loss of her precious afternoon, and she couldn’t imagine now why she’d ever agreed to come down to the road in the first place.
‘My name is Rose McGinley and I come from Currane Lodge,’ she said quickly.
When giving your name to any guest, or member of the family always curtsy. It was the very first thing she’d learnt when she’d started work in the servant’s hall. You could hardly curtsy if you were already seated, so she folded her hands in her lap and looked attentive. At least it showed she knew how to behave, not like that idiot of a groom. How long he’d last in the job was a nice question.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Lady Ishbel, nodding vigorously, so that the dark feathers in her hat bobbed up and down. ‘Your mother is the housekeeper who came from Donegal and you used to help the governess with the girls. Particularly Lady Anne, I gather. I hear you’ve been most useful to Lady Caroline,’ she said approvingly.
‘Lady Caroline is most kind,’ Rose replied, as the coach suddenly jolted backwards, throwing Lady Ishbel forward in her seat.
‘Whoa, whoa, steady there boys. Steady there. Easy does it.’
‘Oh, what now? demanded Lady Ishbel irritably, as the coach continued to rock and vibrate and the voices of the coachman and his groom echoed around them.
‘See what’s happening, Rose.’
Rose stepped across to the heavily curtained windows on the sunny side of the coach, pulled one back and peered out. She found herself almost level with a pair of handsome black horses and a coach twice the size of the one in which they sat.
‘Another coach, my lady. It can’t pass at this point and the greys are giving trouble.’
‘Oh well, that solves our problem,’ said Lady Ishbel briskly. ‘They must be fellow guests. Go and present my compliments to whoever it is. Ask them to drop one of their servants and give me their seat,’ she added, as she picked up her gloves and began to draw them carefully over her bent fingers.
Rose caught up her skirt, jumped cautiously down from the rocking coach and made her way behind it to where the newly arrived coach had drawn up, its coachman and groom still on the box, the horses tossing their heads in frustration, having come to such an unexpected standstill. From the amount of dust on their gleaming flanks they’d been travelling rapidly for some time.
Rose nodded to the coachman who touched his hat respectfully. The groom, however, gave her a dazzling smile, jumped down from the box, bowed to her, accompanied her to the door of the coach and opened it for her.
‘Lady Ishbel presents her compliments and asks if you could give her a seat to Currane Lodge.’
‘Why, of course, we can, can’t we Katherine?’
‘Yes indeed. If Jane comes and squeezes in beside Carrie and me, Lady Ishbel can sit with you, Aunty Ben. Do you know her?’
‘Yes, I most certainly do,’ laughed Aunty Ben. ‘But it is so long ago since we danced the night away we may not recognise one another,’ she said cheerfully, as she turned back to Rose. ‘My compliments to Lady Ishbel. Tell her an old friend and her favourite niece will be pleased to see her.’
The two coachmen were now conferring. There was no possibility of passing at this point on the road. John was nowhere to be seen and the other groom was watching her every move as she delivered her message.
Lady Ishbel seemed spry enough once she was on her feet. She lost no time at all in moving from one coach to another and settling herself in the seat by the window which Aunty Ben had vacated for her.
Rose turned away as she heard the two older women greet each other.
‘Oh my goodness, Ben, it’s you! How extraordinary. And this is Katherine. My dear, I knew your father when I lived in Dublin, but you weren’t even born then. Such a beautiful preaching voice. I can still remember it. But such an age ago. And your husband, Captain O’Shea, I hope he is well?’
‘Oh yes, Lady Ishbel, he is well, but he hates coaches. He and his friend Lord Harrington are great supporters of the railway. They even persuade their unfortunate mounts to travel with them. I expect he’ll have arrived at least a day before us.’
Rose stood in the small patch of shade cast by the empty coach and wondered if she could slip away unnoticed. Now that Lady Ishbel was safely settled, it was up to the coachmen to get them back to the house. There was no question of her being offered a seat for Lady Ishbel and Aunty Ben were generously proportioned. Only Jane and Carrie’s slim figures saved one of them from having to walk.
She had just made up her mind to slip over the wall and go back up the hillside when a breathless figure appeared at her side.
‘Rose, would you give us a hand and hold Pegasus for us? He’s in a bad way.’
‘Would you like me to uncouple the others and reverse the coach as well?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘Now, Rose, don’t be unkind,’ he said quietly. ‘Wouldn’t I help you if it were the other way round?’
Yes, he probably would, she thought to herself. There was no doubt he was good-natured enough, but just at this moment she was not at all inclined to admit any of his good qualities.
‘How do you know my name?’ she asked shortly.
‘Sure, I listened when ye went up inta the coach. I knew her ladyship woud ask ye.’
Rose laughed and shook her head. The man was as innocent as a child. That would do him no good in his present occupation.
‘Come on then. Take me to Pegasus. Who in heaven’s name called him that?’
‘Oh, that’s Sir Capel. He’s a great one for books. Books and birds. Doesn’t much like people. Hates visitin’. Always sends the wife first to make sure the beds is aired afore he comes. But he’s a right sort. Never do anyone down, not even the boot boy.’
He paused, ran his hand down Pegasus’s long, grey nose.
‘Ach sure we’ll soon have you right as rain,’ he said to him reassuringly, as he began to undo the traces, more skilfully than Rose had anticipated.
‘You’re not afeard o’ horses, are ye?’ he asked suddenly, looking round at her, his blue eyes full of concern.
‘I wouldn’t need to be. I spend half my life talking up at Lady Anne on a stallion bigger than Pegasus.’
He looked relieved as he led the limping horse slowly forward to a patch of rough grass broader than the one beside the coach. He handed her the reins and stood watching for a moment as she stroked his head.
‘There ye are now, Pegasus. Aren’t you the lucky one? Wasn’t it worth a bad foot for all the attention yer getting’? Maybe if I had a bad foot, she’d come an’ stroke my head, instead of bitin’ it off.’
Rose opened her mouth to retort, but he’d already gone to help the coachman release the other lead horse.
It was not long before Lady Ishbel’s coach had been drawn into the field entrance which John had located some small distance away, thus allowing the larger coach with its full compliment of ladies and servants to proceed. When it had passed, Lady Ishbel’s coachman, O’Donnell, checked the re-harnessed greys, shook the reins and followed, leaving John and Rose with Pegasus and his companion.
‘Are ye tired?’ he said suddenly, looking down at her as she stood leaning against Pegasus, a quiet animal who now stood easily, his hurt foot slightly raised from the rough ground.
‘Why do you ask?’ she replied curiously.
‘Sure I could put you up on Icarus and lead the both of them. No trouble at all.’
She laughed at the thought of a horse called Icarus and shook her head helplessly at the idea of riding him.
‘And a nice pair we’d make coming into the stable yard with me on one of your Sir Capel’s horses,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘You’d never hear the end of it in the servant’s hall or the stables.’
‘Ach sure I wouden care about that if ye were tired. It’s powerful hot the day. Is it always like this in this part of the world?’ he asked, as they led the two horses carefully back onto the carriage road.
‘No, we get our share of rain and cold, but its probably warmer here than Armagh. It’s certainly a lot warmer than Donegal.’
‘How did ye know I wus from Armagh?’
‘Your Sir Capel is my Sir Capel’s cousin. When you meet Old Thomas, the coachman, you’ll hear who everybody is and where they come from. And maybe you’ll get as mixed up as I used to with them all having the same names.’
‘We could call them Sir Capel North and Sir Capel South?’ he offered.
‘Or Sir Capel Armagh, and Sir Capel Kerry,’ she added, smiling.
They paused to let Pegasus rest and she watched while he pulled off the scarf that had worked itself loose in the course of the afternoon and was now in danger of falling to the ground. He stuffed it in the pocket of his livery jacket, then took off the jacket itself. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, Rose asked the question that had been in her mind since she’d first laid eyes on him.
‘How long have you been a groom?’
‘A groom?’ he repeated, an unexpected note of outrage in his normal easy speech. ‘I’m no groom,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m a time-served blacksmith. As good a one as you’ll find.’
‘I do apologise, your honour,’ she said, curtseying to him. ‘You must forgive me if I was taken in by your disguise.’
He threw back his head and laughed.
‘Sure, maybe I could have taken ye in if the coat had fitted, but that coat’s been the plague o’ my life. Even the buttons get hot. An’ sure I niver was one for wearin’ a coat anyway. Not wi’ my work. Ye’ve no call for one in a forge, even in the wintertime.’
‘So what are you doing here?’
‘Ach, just helpin’ out. The groom’s old mother was took bad a few days before they were due to set out an’ he asked Sir Capel for leave not to go. Sir Capel came to the forge an’ put it to me that I was no stranger to Paddy O’Donnell or the horses, so it’d be a bit of an outing for me. Ah wasn’t all that keen, I admit. But then I thought to m’eself “John take every opportunity ye get t’see yer own country.”’ He paused deliberately. ‘If I’d knowed I’d meet you, wild horses wouldn’t have stopped me, as the saying is,’ he continued, with a broad smile, his livery coat thrown casually over one shoulder, his blue eyes fixed firmly on hers.
To Rose’s amazement, she found herself blushing. She looked away and tried to think up a suitable retort, but before she’d managed it, John had asked his next question.
‘Ye mentioned Donegal. I’ve heard tell it’s powerful wild in winter up on the coast. D’ye know the place?’
‘I do. I was brought up there, though not on the coast. We lived inland in the valley of Lough Gartan, a townland called Ardtur. Until we were evicted, that is. In ’61.’
She paused and glanced up at him. He was watching her, his mouth open in amazement.
‘There were good people in Ramelton cleared out their barn for us and fed us till we made plans what we’d do. We were better off than most. Some people had nowhere to go. Some build huts of sods for shelter.’
He nodded, encouraging her to go on with her story. She hadn’t thought about it for so long, she wondered what best to say. Then the great plan they’d had came back to her, the one they’d talked about all through that summer.
‘My parents thought of taking us all to Australia and making a new life there. There was a scheme got up in Sydney to help people get away in a ship called the Abysinnia, but then my father died and that changed everything.’
‘Ach dear a dear. Sure what happened him? He couldn’t ha’ been very old.’
‘No, not that old,’ she agreed, she shook her head sadly. ‘He took my two brothers with him to the haymaking in Scotland that same summer to help raise the passage money. He was throwing up sheaves of hay to my brother on top of a stack when he just fell to the ground. They got a doctor to him, but he said it was his heart. That he couldn’t have done anything for him.’
‘An’ what about yer mother an’ yourself?’
‘And my sister Mary and wee Sam, the baby,’ she added, not wanting them left out of the story.
‘Och, Rose dear, how could anyone put out a whole family of you like that?’ he asked, his voice catching with emotion.
‘Easy, John, easy,’ she said lightly, waving her free hand gently, careful not to startle Pegasus. ‘No trouble at all. There was over two hundred people on that ship who’d been evicted from our valley alone. Do you not have evictions in Armagh?’
‘Well, if we have, I’ve niver come across them. But then, we only know what we’ve met up with. Sure what would the well-off people know about the poverty of the poor souls that pays them rent? And how would those same poor people know there’s many a rich person isn’t as happy as they are?’
He fell silent as they turned into the cart track leading to the farm and its outbuildings. The trees provided welcome shade and Pegasus moved more easily on the bare earth track with grass growing up the middle.
‘So why didn’t ye go?’
‘My mother’s not a Catholic and the money for the passages had come from Catholics in Sydney. They’d got up a subscription when they heard what was happening. Ma thought it wasn’t fair to take help that might not be meant for her. But she also said she could face anything with my father beside her. Without him, she hadn’t the courage for going so far away.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ he said warmly.
‘What?’ she demanded, startled.
‘Thank goodness ye didn’t go. Sure we’d never be walking here, now, in a lane in Kerry.’
Ahead of them the trackway opened out into a broad cobbled yard surrounded with whitewashed buildings. The two coaches had been towed away and grooms were already rubbing down the black horses. The two greys had their heads bent deep into a horse trough.
‘When will you be finished your work?’ he asked, looking her full in the face.
‘When the cows come home,’ she said, laughing.
‘We could walk back up to your hillside and listen to the nightingale.’
‘How do you know there’ll be a nightingale?’
‘Well, if there isn’t, sure we can imagine one.’
She shook her head.
‘I never know when I’m going to be let go. Especially when there’s visitors. If Lady Anne doesn’t need me, Lady Caroline may want me to see to some of the guests. You might wait a long time.’
‘I’ll wait all night if I hafta,’ he said in a whisper, as a young lad with red hair came towards them.
The lad held out his hand and grinned at him.
‘You’re John Hamilton from Armagh,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m to show you and Paddy O’Donnell your quarters. The meal is at six in the servants’ hall. Don’t be late or they’ll give you half rations.’
‘I’ll leave you now,’ said Rose smiling. ‘You’re in good hands. This is my brother Sam,’ she said proudly.
She turned her back on them and made her way towards the stone steps that led up to the rooms she shared with her mother. Just as she reached them, the clock on the stable block struck the half hour and the yard filled with noise as the afternoon’s picnic party returned.
She slipped into the empty sitting room, grateful to have a quiet half hour before going down to the servants’ hall. She moved the small table where her mother kept her lists of guests and rooms and went right up to the window, gazing down at the movements of riders, grooms and horses.
Directly below her, she saw Lady Anne smiling triumphantly as Conor walked delicately across the cobbles. Sam was staring up at Lily as he held her reins for her to dismount. She ran her eyes over the crowded yard and for a moment couldn’t see the tall figure of John Hamilton.
Then, Captain O’Shea and his companion moved their horses to the water trough and she spotted him. He was standing exactly where they’d parted, looking up towards her window. He saw her and beamed, raised a finger in salute and turned away to join Paddy O’Donnell at the horse trough.