Whether it was simply settling in, or the pleasures of a long spell of fine, sunny weather, life at Currane Lodge seemed happier for everyone as May turned to June and the freshness of springtime modulated into the luxurious growth and prolific flowering of early summer.
Almost every day the coaches lined up in front of the house. There were drives through sunlit countryside to places of interest, small villages, beaches and viewpoints. There was croquet on the lawn. Some guests walked or rode in the park, others sat in the shady arbours of the rose garden, a few, both male and female, pursued more private conversations on the less frequented paths through the woodland.
In the servants’ hall, work settled into a more relaxed rhythm as maids and valets made friends with house staff and offered help with the routine work. Having upset everyone initially by scolding the newest housemaid for speaking Irish to her friend while they were dusting the drawing room even Mr Smithers felt able to retire to his quarters and stop supervising work going on perfectly well without him. The relief was palpable.
Hannah felt the easement as much as anyone, able to sit by her window and do the most difficult of the mending tasks without having to interrupt her work to comfort a tearful girl or reason with a young man, so angry he was threatening to give notice. After the first fraught week, even Cook began to smile again, responding to the light-hearted attentions of the young grooms and stable boys who had been drafted in to help her when they were not needed outside.
For Rose and John, it was the happiest of times. Lady Anne frequently insisted Rose accompany her on her outings, so they would find themselves together. Whatever the task to hand there’d always be moments when they were free to stand side by side, the sunlight warm around them, the brilliant greens of new foliage set against vistas of lake, or sea, watching the house party split up into twos and threes and disappear, leaving them to sit under a tree, or in the shadow of a coach.
John was impressed by Kerry.
‘Sure it’s just beautiful. There’s no other word for it. I’ve niver seen the like of it,’ he said, shaking his head.
Rose was puzzled by the hint of sadness in his voice every time he commented on a new prospect. Not for several weeks did she discover what lay behind it, however.
‘Rose, Rose, oh come in quickly. I’ve something wonderful to tell you.’
Whatever it was the effect on Lady Anne’s appearance was quite marvellous. Her eyes bright, a winning smile on her face, she had an excited glow about her as if she were going to a ball. Her step was so light, so gay, as she ran across the room to meet her, Rose wondered how anyone, could ever have thought she was rather plain, if not actually ugly.
‘My goodness, what’s happened,’ Rose gasped, as she clutched her hand and hurried her over to the window seat.
‘We went up to see the cliffs at Hog’s Head this afternoon. You know the place, Rose, where we leave the coaches,’ she began hurriedly. ‘Well, everyone got out and started to walk up,’ she went on, so quickly she almost tripped over her words. ‘Captain and Mrs O’Shea and Lady Ben were walking with us and I was so disappointed. I was sure they’d come all the way to spoil it. Lord Harrington always goes so quiet when Captain O’Shea tries to be amusing, but suddenly Lady Ben got tired and Katherine said they’d sit down and rest, they’d come far enough. So we went on, right to the very top and perched on a big piece of rock and looked out at all the islands,’ she gasped, spreading her arms wide to embrace the whole extent of the bay. ‘It’s amazing, Lord Harrington knows all their names and he’s only been here three weeks.’
She paused and drew breath while Rose waited, wondering if she’d guessed at what was coming next.
‘Then he went very quiet,’ she went on, dropping her voice to a whisper. ‘He often does Rose, and I know now not to be upset. I used to chatter away when he went quiet, but then I realised it didn’t matter, so I just sat there and looked around. I discovered there were little mauve flowers everywhere, growing in sweet little clumps in the cracks in the rock, and here and there in the grass there were little yellow ones I’d never noticed before. So I showed them to him. I was sure he’d know what they were.’
She paused, put her hand to her mouth.
‘Oh Rose,’ she said, taking a huge, gasping breath. ‘He said I was the only flower he ever wanted. And then … and then, he asked me to marry him.’
‘And what did you say?’ Rose asked, anxiously, for her own future was as much involved as Lady Anne’s.
‘Well, I said yes, I’d love to. And he kissed me. I never thought he’d manage that. But he did and I didn’t care one bit if wretched Captain O’Shea came up and saw us. He’s going to speak to my father before dinner. And if he says “Yes”, and I’m sure he will, we’ll be married in August, so we can be back from our honeymoon tour before the hunting starts.’
Rose breathed a sigh of relief and offered her the warmest of good wishes. She was not totally surprised when Lady Anne immediately threw her arms round her and insisted she could never have managed without her.
‘You know Rose,’ she went on, releasing her from her energetic embrace, ‘when he talked about our honeymoon tour, I’d have been absolutely lost if you hadn’t made me look at the atlas and see where all the countries of Europe were. And then I asked where we would live and he talked about Easky Lough and the Ox Mountains,’ she went on, laughing. ‘Wasn’t it a mercy you made me walk all round Sligo on the map. I used to think Sligo was in the middle of Ireland, but of course it’s not. He says he has a house on Ballysadare Bay and a lot of his land overlooks Sligo Bay but it’s not like Kerry at all. He’s so kind, he asked if I thought I’d miss Kerry, even though we can come and visit every summer if I want to. And I said … Goodness, Rose, is that the time?’
Rose got up immediately, shocked that she could have been so absorbed she hadn’t even glanced at the pretty porcelain clock on Lady Anne’s dressing table.
‘You can’t be late tonight of all nights,’ she said quickly, as she helped her off with her dress. ‘What do you want to wear?’
‘Oh Rose, the green, of course. He particularly likes it. He says he fell in love with me when he spilt his wine all over me and I wasn’t cross with him.’
Rose smiled as Lady Anne sat down and pulled out her hairpins. She took up the brush and began to work and recalled what her mother had said the day after she’d first walked out with John Hamilton. ‘Sometimes your life can change in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’ Well, Lady Anne’s certainly had. By tomorrow there would most likely be an engagement, perhaps even a wedding date. There was no need for any delay other than the time needed to make the necessary preparations and provide a trousseau.
‘Thank you, Rose. Do I look all right?’
‘I’ve never seen you look so well,’ said Rose honestly. ‘I hope you have a lovely evening.’
‘You too, Rose. Don’t spend an age tidying up, will you? It can wait till tomorrow. Your John will be waiting for you and you only have the evenings,’ she said warmly, as she paused, a hand on the bedroom door.
Rose picked up the discarded dress and inspected it methodically. It was still perfectly clean but the soft material had creased. She put it to one side to take down to the ironing room, then went through her evening routine, her mind completely engaged with all Lady Anne had told her and the implications it had for her own future.
John was waiting in his usual place, sitting talking with the grooms and coachman, his eyes never straying far from the outside stairs leading up to the living quarters over the old stable block.
‘There ye are, John. Time to go,’ said Old Thomas cheerfully, as he caught sight of Rose coming into the yard.
There were teasing comments from many of the young men gathered round, for John had become popular among the outdoor staff, not so much for his skill with horses and metal, as his willingness to help anyone in difficulties, whatever the task might be. Even the young O’Shea groom now treated him in a friendly manner. Having seen Rose and John walk out on a second evening, he’d transferred his affections to Lady Ben’s maid and thereby discovered John more agreeable than he had imagined.
‘See ye in the mornin’,’ said John, raising his hand in salute to his companions as he stood up and strode across the yard.
They greeted each other, then walked in silence. The moment they were out of sight of all the following eyes, John took her in his arms and kissed her, holding her as if he could never bear to let her go.
‘I’ve missed ye today,’ he said softly, his voice full of a longing that touched her. ‘When they all went off to look at the cliffs, I had only Icarus and Pegasus for company,’ he said wryly. ‘Paddy has taken to goin’ to sleep in the coach as soon as they’re gone.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ she said laughing. ‘From what I hear, it looks as if all the wrongs of Ireland are put right outside the stables. Sam says it’s after midnight many a night when they go up to the loft. And them has to be up at six.’
‘Sure they’re young. It’ll not harm them a bit,’ he said smiling. ‘An’ indeed, I’ve learnt a powerful lot since I come here. I was niver one for books, but I can remember things fine when I hear them. My, there’s some great talkers here, men like yon Old Thomas that know their history an’ can go back generations. Sure I diden know the half of it.’
He fell silent as they walked down to the lough shore and made their way over the stones to one of their favourite sitting places.
‘I’ve somethin’ to tell ye, Rose,’ he said quietly, as they settled themselves.
She felt a sudden, unexpected pang of anxiety. She’d been about to tell him Lady Anne’s good news, but the tone of his voice was alarming and the droop of his broad shoulders did nothing to reassure her.
‘My Sir Capel’s had letters from Dublin today. Business he has to see to. We’re for the road at seven in the mornin’. He says he’ll send Paddy an’ me back in a couple o’ weeks to collect Lady Ishbel.’
Rose’s heart sank. It was so sudden. There’d been no talk of the Molyneux’s returning to the north and it never occurred to her to think of Dublin.
‘I’ll miss you then, John,’ she said, trying to sound calm.
He sat looking out over the lake, so still the tall grasses and rushes at the water’s edge made a perfect mirror image.
‘How coud I ask you t’leave a place like this?’ he said, sadly. ‘That first night we walked down here, I told you my mind was made up, an’ indeed it was, but I didn’t know then what yer life was like. I didn’t know how well thought of ye were and the way ye were treated. Sure Lady Anne thinks the world of you,’ he said, looking at her for the first time. ‘All yer nice clothes and the outings to the coast and yer own wee place with yer mother, an’ her such a nice lady. How coud I ask ye to give up all that?’
‘Well, you could try,’ she said briskly.
He stared at her in disbelief.
‘D’ye mean t’say you’d give up yer life here to marry a blacksmith from the other end of Ireland?’
‘I might if he asked me.’
‘I’m askin’ Rose,’ he said, still sounding amazed. He paused and gathered himself. ‘Will ye marry me?’ he said, looking her full in the face.
‘Yes, John, I will,’ she replied smiling.
Three weeks later they were married in the small parish church a previous generation of Molyneux’s had provided for those of their tenants who were not Catholic. The church was packed. Servants and guests alike had wished to be present and Sir Capel of Currane Lodge had declared their wedding day a holiday and a celebration. He provided transport for the bride and groom and for all his household staff. Furthermore, he gave orders for a buffet meal to be set out in the garden after the service and a dance in the servants’ hall in the evening. So splendid an affair was this wedding of the lady’s maid and the blacksmith, there were those among both guests and staff who wondered if Smithers would ever recover from the effort it demanded of him.
Lady Anne’s excitement knew no bounds. Only with difficulty did Rose restrain her from ordering a wedding dress for her from a catalogue provided by one of the new department stores in Dublin. For the first time in her life, Lady Anne was preoccupied by fashion, wanting her to have the best. If she had to part with her, she insisted, it was the least Rose could do to make her happy by accepting all her gifts.
‘You are so good to me,’ said Rose, returning her embrace, ‘but you see I must think about the life I’ll have when I marry John. We’ll not be as poor as if he were a groom, but I shall have very little money for clothes. If I had a lovely wedding dress, I could never wear it again.’
‘But you could keep it for your daughter, like my mother’s done,’ Lady Anne protested. ‘Not that I like it, and it doesn’t fit very well, but she’s been so kind since I got engaged, I think I ought to wear it.’
Rose laughed and shook her head.
‘There’s your answer, my dear. If I have a daughter, and if she marries, and if fashion hasn’t changed, she might not like it anyway.’
‘Oh Rose, you are so sensible. What will I do without you?’
Rose still found it hard to see the anxious look that came with the question, even if it was a pale shadow of its former self.
‘Harrington says I can have anything I want,’ Lady Anne said confidingly. ‘When I told him I’d so love to have you come with me to Sligo, he said right away he’d find a good job for John, either in his own trade or supervising his improvement works. You know, drains and so on. You’d have a lovely little cottage on the edge of the park and you could help me make sure our children were brought up properly, not scolded by some horrible person who didn’t really care about them.’
Rose shook her head sadly.
‘I shall miss you so. But it wouldn’t be right for you, or me, if John and I went to Sligo. You’ll have to learn to be mistress of your own house and you must let Lord Harrington help you. I’ll have things to learn too, with a new place and a new life. I’ll write to you, if you like.’
‘Oh Rose, yes. Yes, please. I’ve always hated having to write, but it would be different writing to you. I could still ask your advice then. You won’t be a servant any more, so you can say what you like and not have to pretend you don’t see things you’ve always seen. Think, only a few more days and you’ll be Mrs John Hamilton.’
‘And only two more months and you’ll be Lady Harrington of Tobercurry.’
‘I sometimes can’t believe it.’ She suddenly looked grave. ‘Will I always be this happy, Rose?’
‘I’m sure there will be many happy times,’ she replied, carefully, unwilling to spoil the moment with too cold a touch of reality. ‘What my mother says is that you must always gather up all your happiness in your hand and look at it and cherish it, because whoever you are and whatever your station in life, there will always be sad times.’
‘Then I shall gather up all these days we’ve had since Harrington came and you promised to help me. I’ve never been so happy in all my life. I’ll never forget them, Rose and you mustn’t either, whatever happens. Promise.’
‘Yes, I promise.’
‘And you must also promise you’ll wear the little veil I’ve found with the pearls round the edge to match the ones on your new silk blouse.’
‘Yes, I will,’ she said steadily, suddenly aware the days were passing so swiftly. In such a little while she would be gone into an unknown world to live amongst people she didn’t know with customs she hadn’t met, to live a future she couldn’t possibly imagine at this moment.
She knew she would still have said yes to John, but it was only now, sitting in the window seat with Lady Anne, the picture of a wedding veil spread out between them, did she understand fully what had made him hesitate to ask her. Yes, she would miss so many things, the people she knew so well, the countryside she loved, the gardens and the sunlit rooms, the comfort of her own tiny bedroom, the small fireplace where she and her mother drank a cup of tea last thing at night. She knew that would be the hardest of all, saying goodbye to her mother after all these years, bound so close by ties forged in adversity.
‘Well then, has the bridegroom arrived?’ Hannah asked, as Rose came up the stairs and pushed open the door, her arms full of clothes from the ironing room and small packages from the fellow servants who’d just wished her joy.
‘Yes, he has. And you’ll be glad to hear he’s bought a coat that fits him. He sends you his regards and says he hopes he’ll not disgrace you tomorrow.’
‘Ah, he’ll not do that, good man that he is. But it’s a big expense.’
‘It was indeed, but he says it will do him many a long day if he only wears it for christenings, weddings and funerals.’
‘Are you not going for a walk this evening, Rose?’
‘No, Ma. Not this evening. I think perhaps Sam and his friends have plans to entertain John, but I said I would see him in church.’
They settled by the small fire that always burnt in the fireplace, even in summer, and waited for the kettle to boil. Usually she made their tea in the evening, but tonight Hannah told her to stay where she was and rest herself before she did her packing and washed her hair.
She did as she was told, leant back and let the weariness of a long day flow over her. Her last day in service. The last day on which someone might ring, someone might call her, someone might come to her and demand that she do what they wanted. From this moment on, she was free to make up her own mind. Free to say ‘no,’ even to those she loved. She could not imagine refusing John anything, any more than she could refuse her mother or Sam, and yet this new sense of freedom and power excited her.
‘It’s a long journey you have ahead of you,’ said Hannah, as she handed her a cup of tea.
She nodded, thinking of the coach journey to Dublin with Lady Ishbel and John and Paddy.
‘They came down in three days, but we don’t start till four tomorrow, so it may take more.’
Hannah smiled and Rose realised she wasn’t thinking about the journey back to the north. At the same moment, she noticed that the cup she was drinking from was just as familiar as the breakfast china, but smaller and prettier, and it was one they never used. It was the cup and saucer she’d seen for the first time the day the men came to put them out of their home in Ardtur. She looked up at her mother, surprised.
‘I want you to take it with you. And maybe, sometimes, if things go a bit hard with you, you’ll sit down by yourself and drink from the cup, even if it were only spring water you had,’ she said quietly. ‘My mother gave it to me the night before my wedding and I did as she asked, many a time, when I was anxious or perplexed,’ she said, looking deep into the orange embers glowing in the grate.
‘I planned to give it to your sister, Rose. But that wasn’t to be. And then I thought to give it to Mary, but she married far away in Donegal. And maybe that’s the right way of it after all. Maybe it was meant for you.’
Rose sat silent, tears welling in her eyes, but her mother leant across and took the empty cup from her hands and set it down on the nearby table.
‘Sure we’d better start packing or we’ll be up half the night. I can’t have my lovely Rose wilting when she goes to marry the love of her life,’ she said, dropping a kiss on her cheek and drawing her to her feet.