Charlotte laid out what she considered to be her forty-two best oil paintings – completed before her marriage – ready for David Slane to assess. He had undertaken to oversee the framing and hanging of her first solo show, booked to take place in three months’ time. Cormac Delaney promised to travel from Paris to attend the opening night.
On the last occasion David Slane had contacted her, he was so excited he had to slow down and repeat himself before Charlotte could make sense of what he was trying to say. Sir Dirk Armstrong, the most famous artist in the United Kingdom, would be in Ireland at the time and, although he had at first declined to open the show, citing an overcrowded schedule, had changed his mind when he heard the artist’s name was Blackshaw.
To prevent a repetition of Edwina’s earlier unwelcome antagonism, David suggested that Lady Blackshaw should not be told about the show until an hour before the opening.
Later on the same day, Charlotte drew up her last will and testament with Mr Dunwoody, the family solicitor, in which she stated that her mother would never have any hand, act or part in Mary Anne’s rearing. The outward fondness the old woman was showing the child didn’t fool her and the amount of money she was spending to win the child’s favour was beginning to appear sinister and cynical.
Lochlann was to be her main beneficiary. If he pre-deceased her, then his sister Iseult would become Mary Anne’s legal guardian, and a generous slice of Charlotte’s fortune would revert to her, the rest being held in trust for Mary Anne until she came of age. Mary Anne’s name was not to be changed legally from ‘Carmody’ to ‘Blackshaw’. A bequest of five thousand pounds each was to be left to Miss East (now Lily Cooper), Manus, Cormac and Queenie.
Because she made a point of not looking directly at Waldron, Edwina hadn’t noticed that his skin was turning yellow. Verity did, and expressed concern as she took her place between the two of them at the dinner table. Edwina forced herself to raise her eyes. When had the yellow managed to displace the purplish-red tones that had predominated when she last looked at his face?
He’s showing his age at last, Edwina thought. The military bearing and slim figure are gone, replaced by a stoop and a paunch. His voice lacks authority. And what does it signify that his hands are restless, constantly scratching at himself?
Charlotte was five minutes late taking her place. “Sorry,” she said. “Mary Anne took a little longer than usual to settle tonight.” She didn’t say it was because the child kept trying to return to her grandmother’s room to play with the new toy monkey and his clashing cymbals.
“This letter came for you in the afternoon post, Charlotte,” said Aunt Verity. “It’s postmarked ‘Ballybrian’ and it’s quite bulky. I don’t recognise the handwriting.”
“Thank you. I’ll open it later,” said Charlotte, whose pulse quickened, thinking that Miss East or Manus must have something so important to tell her that one of them had decided to write to her at last.
While the rack of lamb was being served Charlotte slit open the envelope with a knife and, under the table, flicked to the second page to reveal the signature, “(Nurse) Elizabeth Dixon”, written in a clear, well-formed hand.
Both sisters registered the look of dismay on her face as she pushed back her chair and, without giving a word of explanation, ran from the room.
“Is the doctor dead?” asked Waldron, looking up in time to see an envelope flutter to the ground and his daughter, clutching sheets of paper, making a dramatic exit.
“It could be anything or nothing. Charlotte makes a habit of running from rooms,” said Edwina, who had seen her do it twice.
Charlotte waited until Mary Anne was asleep before moving to the next room to read the letter so that the child wouldn’t be contaminated by anything that had any connection to Nurse Dixon. Aunt Verity dropped by to ask if everything was all right and left aggrieved when she didn’t get any information out of Charlotte.
If only Lochlann were with me now, giving me courage, Charlotte thought as she positioned herself beside a lamp and forced herself to read:
Ballybrian
23 July1943
Dear Charlotte, or should I now call you Mrs Carmody?
I hope this letter finds you as well as it leaves me. There is something important I want to do before it is too late. The last time I saw you I put a curse on you and now I want to take it away. I have been staying in Ballybrian waiting for a sign. I have not visited the Park yet, but I met some of the maids who told me what happened to your mother and Mandrake, and more recently, your brother. That shows how powerful the curse is and that is why I am worried that something terrible will happen to you. I have just returned from Australia after many years to hear that you were there as well for a time. What a pity we didn’t meet then. At least we can make up for it now.
Lily East or Mrs Sid Cooper whose husband died recently, supposedly of natural causes, doesn’t know I’m here. I want to keep it as a surprise, so I’m relying on you not to say anything. She has been told she has to vacate the cottage before the New Year even though she has nowhere to go. The maids say she is in a state about it.
Curses are hard to control, so I have to be sure to do it right. My worry is that yours might transfer to your daughter.
Unfortunately I wasn’t in time to help Dr Finn who died a slow and painful death five years ago – all his pills and potions didn’t help him. I would have liked to have saved him from that cruel end.
You and I will have to meet in the old nursery. I’ve been given the sign. Your relatives will be away next week, which means we can go about our business without anybody noticing. There is still no one living in the gate lodge as it wasn’t rebuilt after it was burnt down, so we’ll be able to come and go as we please.
I was sorry later that I had cursed you all, but at the time I didn’t know what else to do when Dr Finn and Lily East came to take you away from me when I wanted to keep you. They had no right. Everything I did as your nanny I did for your own good. I’m sure you can see that, now that you have a child of your own.
I expect to see you in the nursery at 3 p.m. on the Tuesday of next week. I have checked that the train is due in at noon, and that there are plenty of jarveys there to meet it. I don’t know what the war restrictions are like in Dublin, but there is no petrol available here so all vehicles have been forced off the road. The noon train should allow you plenty of time, unless of course you travel down the previous day to make doubly sure you don’t miss our meeting. I worked as a businesswoman while I was abroad and am used to organising things. It will be a great relief to me to distance you from danger. It has played on my mind all these years.
If you don’t turn up, I will travel to the address on this envelope and stay there until I see you.
Yours sincerely,
(Nurse) Elizabeth Dixon
What kind of a fool does she take me for? was Charlotte’s initial response to what she read. Does she think I am still eight years old and credulous? If she really believes in the power of her curse why doesn’t she withdraw it straight away, rather than wait to set up a dramatic charade at the Park? Does that final sentence about calling to the townhouse contain a threat?
I’ll have to travel to the Park to see her. I can’t risk having her anywhere near Mary Anne, putting her evil eye on her.
She must have fallen on hard times. That’s why she wants me to travel down. All that mumbo-jumbo about a curse is a trick to make sure I turn up. One thing I can guarantee – she doesn’t intend to do me a good turn. She wants something. Why else would she contact me? Even she wouldn’t have the brass neck to be asking for a position at the Park, so it must be money. I can’t think what else it would be. I’ll leave Mary Anne with Iseult and go down and face her on my own. That would be the best thing to do. I’m not afraid of her any more. What harm can she do to me at my age?