chapter 42

Present Day

Nico’s teenage daughter from his previous marriage, Alex, was at Armstrong House for the weekend. Kate loved when Alex was staying with them. She had built a close relationship with the girl. Having no children of her own, she relished her role of stepmother.

“Oh, Kate, I meant to ask you a favour?” asked Alex.

“Name it,” said Kate.

“I wanted to ask – would it be possible for me to have a cameo role in your docudrama?”

“I can’t see any problem with that,” Kate assured her.

“What?” said Nico. “No way!” He had been very concerned with Alex’s recent revelation that she was interested in becoming an actress.

“Dad!” Alex protested.

“Alex, you have exams this year. You don’t need any distractions from them. You need to concentrate on your grades so you can get into university and get a proper profession,” said Nico.

“Acting not being a proper profession?” Kate arched her eyebrow cynically at him.

Much to Nico’s chagrin, Kate brought all the storage boxes from the attics down to the library to go through.

She sat at the desk in the library smoking a cigarette, examining all the photographs from Charles’ time. She had previously selected the best-quality photographs for the film but now she started going through the pile she had discarded, looking for some detail that would help her in her quest. As she studied the photographs of Charles and his family, it was hard for her to equate this smiling handsome man with all the reports of him being cruel and ruthless. But everyone had two sides to them, she reasoned, and looks could be deceiving. She looked at the photographs of his wife Arabella. She was very beautiful but Kate couldn’t find a photograph of her smiling. She didn’t look sad either, but she seemed tense. And she couldn’t find one photograph of just the couple together. And in the family photographs they didn’t stand together, the children Pierce and Prudence being always positioned between them. As an actress she was used to reading people, looking at their faces and their body language and determining what kind of person they were, what made them tick, how they interacted. This did not look like a happy couple to Kate. She studied the photos of Prudence and Pierce. Prudence seemed a confident girl, always smiling with knowing eyes. Pierce appeared more reserved. Their body language when with their parents showed great affection towards them. She passed through the photographs and came across one of Charles in his car with the two children in the front seat beside him. She imagined the terrible impact it must have had on them when he was shot and their lives changed forever. She took up the photograph and felt sad looking at them. A family who could have had so much destroyed overnight, that night in December 1903.

Looking at the photograph she suddenly got a jolt. She got up and walked quickly to the police file and took out the photograph of the crime scene and compared them.

Kate went marching quickly across the hall and into the drawing room where Nico was stretched out watching television.

“Eh – do you mind?” he said as she took up the remote and turned off the television.

“Look at these photos!”

He took the photos and shrugged. “So?”

“So, they are different cars! Charles’ car was a different make to the one he was shot in. See – his car doesn’t even have a windscreen. In fact most cars didn’t have windscreens back then.”

“So what? He probably had another car.”

“Not very likely – there were fewer than three hundred cars in Ireland at the time – they were extremely expensive and a rarity.”

“What are you saying?”

“Charles was in somebody else’s car the night he was shot. Perhaps a woman’s car, because of the fox fur and high-heeled shoe that was left there.”

“I doubt any woman would be driving back then,” said Nico.

“Oh, they did. Not many, but you had the beginning of the suffragette movement by then and they were trying to prove themselves to be as capable as men,” said Kate.

“So what are you getting at?” asked Nico, irritated by her detective work.

“It makes sense, because the gunshot is through the passenger’s side of the windscreen, so Charles must have been sitting on the passenger side as somebody else was driving their own car!” Kate was delighted with her discovery. “Where was Charles going that night with this woman, and who was the woman in the car? And why did the family go to such lengths to cover it up? Was that why Lady Margaret and the family said he was in a carriage because they didn’t want it to be known whose car he was actually in?”

Nico flung the photos on the coffee table. “Don’t you think you’re taking all this a bit far?”

“I haven’t taken it far enough, Nico!”

“Did you ever hear the expression – let sleeping dogs lie?”

“I have, and I never liked that expression.”

“You wouldn’t! You know, Kate, you’re always trying to push things to the limit. The fact is, although all these people are long dead, they still have a right to privacy.”

“Not really, not if they covered up a crime they don’t.”

“Well, I think they do. And I think at the end of the day it’s immoral for you to start trying to sensationalise something for the sake of your film and getting it better publicity and ratings,” he said in a determined voice.

“I knew you weren’t behind me on this! I knew you weren’t happy about it from the start,” she accused.

“Well, if you knew, then why did you proceed with it?”

“Because – because I wanted to!”

“It’s not the first time you’ve had an obsession with my family’s past, and look where that led you before!” he said. “We don’t need any more unsavoury secrets to be uncovered!”

She looked very hurt. “Thank you! Thank you very much for dragging all that up again.”

“I just don’t want you getting carried away with this like last time,” he said.

“And you know something?” Kate went on regardless. “Your surname might be Collins, but I think you have that same streak as your Armstrong ancestors did. I think you’re as happy as they were to cover this up to protect the reputation of your family.”

“At the end of the day, Kate, this man you’re investigating is my mother’s grandfather. It’s not that far back, and I know my mother would be horrified to know you were trying to besmirch her family name. She was very proud of it, you know.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Nico, but I can’t stop now. I want to know what happened and to make sure justice was done.”

“Kate – the great crusader!” mocked Nico.

She stood up and grabbed the photos. “And if you don’t want to help me, then I’ll do it on my own.”

He watched her walk out of the room then he put the television back on.

Book three

1897–1900

chapter 43

It was nine o’clock in the evening in New York and all the employees of Union Bank had long since gone home as the chairman of the bank, Morgan Wells, left his office and walked down the corridor. He spotted a light on in Harrison Armstrong’s office. He walked over and opened the door to find Harrison inside at his desk, poring over paperwork.

“Are you still here?” asked Morgan, not surprised that he was.

“Yes, I need to finish this before morning – the client is coming in at nine,” explained Harrison, not concealing his irritation at being disturbed.

“Why not go home, get a good night’s sleep, and get in early and finish it then?” suggested Morgan.

“I’ll keep going, thank you,” said Harrison as his head went down and he continued reading.

To Harrison’s further irritation, Morgan walked into the office, over to his desk and picked up some of the paperwork.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” asked Morgan. “I can give you a lift home. My motor car is waiting outside.”

“No, thank you,” said Harrison.

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“No, yes – I’ve a few things on,” said Harrison.

“Me and my wife are having a dinner party on Saturday evening. We’d like you to attend if you’re free?”

“I’m actually not free, but thank your wife for the invitation,” said Harrison curtly.

Morgan smiled. “There will be a lot of interesting people there – some powerful people in banking. It could be good for you to attend.”

Harrison looked up. “Is it an order that I attend?”

Morgan gave a little laugh. “Of course it’s not an order – just an invitation.”

“In that case, as I said, I’ve something else on,” Harrison said firmly.

“I see,” Morgan nodded and, turning, walked to the door where he paused and said, “You know the expression, Harrison – ‘All work and no play’ . . .”

“. . . gets the job done on time,” Harrison finished, giving the expression his own ending.

Morgan nodded and, smiling, left, closing the door after him.

Sitting in the back of the motor car as he was driven home, Morgan thought about Harrison Armstrong, as he had countless times before. Harrison had been with the bank for several years. He had started in a lowly position and through sheer hard work and dedication beyond the call of duty had risen through the ranks. From the beginning Harrison did not mix with the other employees. He did not attend any social function, not even the Christmas party. He never socialised with anyone and kept himself to himself. He was always polite but his attitude was often taken as aloofness and unfriendliness. It had been three years before it was revealed who he actually was. A visiting official from Dublin had spotted him at the bank and to everyone’s shock exposed him as being the son of one of the United Kingdom’s most respected families, related to lords and dukes and whatnot. Morgan remembered Harrison being furious when this was discovered. He became even more withdrawn when his true identity was known. Morgan worried about Harrison. It just wasn’t natural for a young person to have no life outside that office he seemed chained to. Especially for a young man like Harrison who could have New York at his feet. Morgan had tried his best to nurture him into having a better life for himself. But he had to admit defeat on Harrison Armstrong and leave him to his own ways.

It was after ten by the time Harrison reached home, which was only a short distance from the bank. Letting himself into his apartment, he picked up the post that his housekeeper had left on the sideboard for him. He flicked through the letters and threw them back on the sideboard except for one whose writing he recognised as his sister Daphne’s.

Walking into his sitting room he saw his housekeeper had left a cold meat salad for him before she had gone home. He ignored it as he sat on the couch and, smiling to himself, touched the neat handwriting on the envelope. He then carefully opened the envelope, unfolded the paper inside and sat back to read the letter from Daphne. It was the typical type of letter she and his family wrote to him. Full of news from home – gossip about somebody they knew growing up, chit-chat about relatives, hearsay about neighbours. Inconsequential news, but he relished hearing it all anyway. The letter finished as usual with a paragraph asking how he was, hoping he was looking after himself, saying how they missed him and would love to see him soon. His siblings and his parents wrote very regularly to him, regardless of the fact he rarely responded. When he left Ireland he knew he would never return. And writing to his family would only give them false hope that one day he would. It was better for them to get on with their own lives without him. They hardly ever mentioned Charles and Arabella in their letters, only in passing for some event like when their children Prudence and Pierce were born. The very thought of them sent him into a cycle of hurt, depression and shame. The shame of everyone in Ireland knowing how he had been made such a fool of. Charles, Arabella, Prudence and Pierce: he imagined the happy family.

He got up off the couch and ate the meal the housekeeper had left for him. Then he went straight to bed.

Morgan Wells looked exceptionally pleased with himself as Harrison sat down opposite him in his office.

“We’ve landed them! We’ve landed the Van Hoevans as a client . . . almost,” he declared.

Harrison sat back, impressed by this news himself. The Van Hoevans were one of those families who had built America. A name that sat alongside Vanderbilt or Rockefeller whose wealth and glamour had come to epitomise America during this gilded age. A family whose fortune was built on steel and railroads. Landing the Van Hoevans and their millions was a major coup for the bank.

“You said the word ‘almost’?” asked Harrison, concerned. He had been involved in too many deals that were almost done and that fell apart at the last moment.

“Yes, they’ve agreed to come to us in principle but we’ve no signatures yet,” explained Morgan.

“I see – and when do you think we’ll get the signatures?”

“You know Oscar Van Hoevan’s reputation. He likes to leave people dangling and often pulls out at the last minute when he gets a better deal or interest rate from somebody else.”

“So nothing is guaranteed with this deal?” said Harrison, disappointed.

“Not yet – and that’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“You’re going up to Newport, Rhode Island to meet him on Monday, and you’re not to come back until his signature is on all the paperwork.”

“I don’t really want to meet or have to deal with Oscar Van Hoevan.”

“Why not? It could be entertaining for you. See how the other half live.”

“The other half doesn’t live like the Van Hoevans. Only a tiny minority of people live like that . . . I think you should send Pratchford instead. He’d love all that and do a great job.”

“I don’t want Pratchford to go, I want you to go,” said Morgan.

“But –”

“And that is an order, this time, Harrison.”

Harrison didn’t hide his frustration. “Very well.”

“You’re to travel to Newport on Monday and you’ll be staying at the Van Hoevans’ house.”

Harrison stood up and left as Morgan sat back, satisfied with himself. Harrison Armstrong was the perfect man for the job. Anyone else would be overawed and intimidated stepping into the Van Hoevans’ world. Harrison wouldn’t give a damn. And Oscar Van Hoevan would lose respect for anyone in awe of him.

chapter 44

The train pulled into the station in Newport and Harrison stepped off onto the platform where he was met by one of Van Hoevan’s chauffeurs. As the motor car was driven through the streets of Newport Harrison observed the splendid palaces built by America’s super rich to show off their wealth. Finally they reached the Van Hoevan mansion and drove through gigantic pillars and up a driveway. The house was an extravagant white building and Harrison realised that the rumour the Van Hoevans had based the design of the building on Versailles was not unfounded. In the distance he could hear the ocean. He followed the chauffeur up the wide sandstone steps and through the front door into a colossal hallway with white walls and white marble floor and a wide staircase with gold-encrusted balustrades, where he was met by a butler.

“This way, sir,” said the butler, opening ornately engraved double doors.

As Charles stepped into the next room he realised he was in the Van Hoevan famed Hall of Mirrors. It was a giant room with wooden floors and huge gold-framed mirrors all along the walls. The room was known for the elaborate parties held there.

Across the room he saw a woman approach him. As she neared him he saw she was a striking young woman with soft curled blonde hair and the most refined bone structure he had ever seen.

“And you must be Harrison Armstrong,” said the woman as she reached him. “I’m Victoria Van Hoevan.”

He reached out and shook her proffered hand.

“Welcome to our home. I hope you enjoy your stay here. My father is waiting for you if you would care to follow me?”

She turned and started walking through the room and he followed her.

“Thank you for having me. I don’t plan to impose on you that long,” he said.

“Really?” she said.

“I just need to get a few signatures from your father and then I’ll be on my way back to New York.”

She smiled at him as she led him out of the room and through further hallways.

“You don’t know what my father is like, Harrison. Getting a few signatures from him can be like extracting teeth, and often more painful.”

“Oh dear,” said Harrison under his breath.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Don’t bother trying to fight it, just accept his ways,” she advised.

They reached another double door which was dark mahogany.

She leaned forward and whispered to him. “Don’t be intimidated by him, and don’t let him bully you either. He can come across as a terrible grizzly bear, but he’s really just a cuddly cub underneath.” She smiled at him and opened the doors.

“Don’t you ever knock?” growled a deep voice from behind an expansive desk.

“Somebody is after getting out of bed the wrong side this morning,” said Victoria as she led Harrison in. “Dad, Harrison Armstrong has arrived from New York.”

“Who?”

“The man from Union Bank, which you are investing with,” said Victoria.

“Which I might be investing with,” stated Oscar.

Harrison, on reaching the desk, put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Oscar ignored the hand. “How do you know you’re pleased to meet me? You might be very displeased to meet me once you see what I’m like.”

Seeing his outstretched hand was being ignored, Harrison awkwardly put it down by his side.

“Would you like a drink, Harrison?” asked Victoria.

Harrison started to open his case. “No, thank you. I have the papers here and it’s very straightforward really.”

“Sit down and have a drink,” commanded Oscar. “And get me one while you’re at it, Vicky.”

“Certainly, Daddy. I might even have one myself,” said Victoria, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring three gin and tonics.

She came back, handed the drinks to the men and sat down on the arm of her father’s chair.

“To your good health,” said Oscar.

“And yours, sir,” said Harrison.

“So you’re the guy who wants all my money,” said Oscar, studying him.

“Well, some of it anyway, sir,” said Harrison.

“What do you think, Vicky, should I give it to him?” asked Oscar with a smirk.

“Well, you see, I don’t know why you ask me these things. I’ll get no credit if it goes well, and get all the blame if it goes wrong,” said Victoria.

“That’s why I ask you!” laughed Oscar. “I don’t want to blame myself if it goes wrong, do I?”

“Could you not just blame Harrison and keep me out of it?” Victoria laughed lightly back.

Harrison coughed, took the papers out of his case and handed them across the desk.

Oscar reached out and took the paperwork and then flung it to the other side of the desk. “Paperwork bores me . . . my grandfather, who started the Van Hoevan fortune, didn’t make money out of paperwork, young fella, he made it out of steel, blood, sweat and tears.”

“Usually other people’s,” said Victoria.

Harrison coughed again. “Indeed, but you need to keep that fortune well minded, and we at Union Bank –”

“Will mind it like a newborn baby, no doubt,” said Oscar.

“Daddy! Hear him out!”

“Why don’t you two run along and let me get back to what I was doing,” said Oscar.

“But, sir,” began Harrison.

“We’re being dismissed,” said Victoria, getting up off the arm of the chair. “No point in arguing with him.”

“You could learn a few things from listening to her,” said Oscar.

Harrison felt bewildered as he stood up and followed Victoria out of the room.

“No need to look so puzzled,” said Victoria as she led him down the corridor. “I told you he’s a cuddly cub . . . now let’s get you settled into your room. We’re serving dinner at eight tonight; Daddy is a stickler for time, so try not to be late.”

Harrison was completely confused as he hung up his clothes in the sumptuous guest room he was shown to. Oscar Van Hoevan didn’t seem to have any interest in finding out anything about the Union Bank proposals. He really hoped he hadn’t made a wasted journey. His room was at the back of the house and he went to one of the windows that looked out over an expansive lawn and the ocean just beyond it. He stayed in his room for the rest of the day, not daring to venture out in case he had to cope with Oscar’s overly confident and peculiar daughter.

In the evening he dressed for dinner and headed down for eight sharp as instructed. A butler showed him into the dining room, which had the familiar theme of the house: huge and lavishly decorated.

“Ah, you managed to find us all right!” Victoria said as he came in. “You know, we had a guest here this summer who got lost in the house and couldn’t find his way back to his room and ended up sleeping on a couch in a hall!”

“Uncomfortable for him, I imagine,” said Harrison.

“Well, he was half drunk on Daddy’s best cognac, so I don’t think he minded that much.”

Oscar was seated at the top of the table and had already started to eat the first course of salad.

A lady in her fifties, impeccably dressed and groomed with dazzling diamonds around her neck, was also seated at the table.

“Harrison, this is my mother, Tess,” said Victoria.

“Very nice to meet you,” smiled Tess. “Victoria has been telling me all about you. You must sit beside me so I can interrogate you properly.”

Harrison nervously went and sat down where he was told to, which was across the table from Victoria. A footman poured him wine and he started to eat his salad.

“We met your sister and brother-in-law, the Duke of Battington, when we were in London last year – charming couple,” Tess said to Harrison’s amazement.

“You’re the son of an Irish lord, aren’t you?” said Victoria.

Harrison nodded, becoming angry. He knew they must have been informed of all this by Morgan. It became apparent why he had been chosen to come to the Van Hoevans. Morgan had wanted to impress them with Harrison’s family background. He wasn’t there on merit but because Morgan felt Harrison’s aristocratic connections would impress the Van Hoevans and land them as a client.

“We haven’t been to Ireland, but we believe it’s beautiful,” said Tess.

“Yes, it is,” agreed Harrison.

“Do you go home often?” asked Victoria.

“No.”

“Of course there’s Irish in us somewhere,” said Victoria.

“Really? I thought you descended from Dutch with your name?” said Harrison.

“Dutch, Irish, German, French, we’re a real melting pot – it’s all in there somewhere,” stated Oscar.

“I’m surprised we’ve never met you socially before in New York,” said Tess.

“Oh, I believe Harrison doesn’t like to go out much, do you?” Victoria said.

Harrison glared at Victoria, wondering who she had been talking to and what she had heard. He felt very much exposed and wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible.

Harrison turned to Oscar. “I was hoping we could meet at the earliest opportunity in the morning, to go over the paperwork.”

“Sure, sure – what’s my diary like tomorrow, Vicky?”

“A bit busy really, but I’m sure we’ll manage to fit you in.” Victoria smiled over at Harrison.

Tess talked incessantly about her children – two sons and two daughters.

“Two of them are in New York at the moment, and Conrad – he’s in San Francisco.”

He found Tess to be jovial and warm, Victoria inquisitive to the point of being nosy and Oscar changeable from being warm to grumpy.

He waited for the earliest opportunity to get away from them that evening and go to bed.

The next morning he dressed and came down for breakfast. He was shown into the dining room where he found Victoria.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“The sea air here always gives people a good night’s sleep . . . I’m afraid Daddy has had to go.”

Harrison looked up, alarmed. “Go where?”

“Chicago.”

“Chicago! What’s he doing there?”

“Building a railroad or something. An urgent message came for him this morning and off he had to go.”

“But what about our business together?”

“He said you weren’t to leave until he had an opportunity to talk to you.”

“And when will that be?” Harrison was aghast.

“Who knows?” said Victoria shrugging. “Everyone knows what Daddy is like . . . I’m sure you won’t be bored here.”

“It’s not a case of being bored. I’ve commitments back in New York with my job.”

“Very thoughtless of Daddy really, he can be like that, you know.”

“I – I – I just don’t think I can stay waiting for him. My boss won’t understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will. Relax – you might just enjoy yourself!” She smiled at him.

Five days came and went at the Van Hoevan mansion and there was still no sign of Oscar Van Hoevan returning, much to Harrison’s dismay. He contacted Morgan who instructed him again under no circumstances to leave without getting his business done with Oscar. Oscar obviously thought that his wealth allowed him to inconvenience others with no regard, thought Harrison angrily. He spent his time in Newport trying to avoid Victoria who had taken it on herself to try and alleviate Harrison’s boredom with suggestions of doing everything from sailing to horse riding, all of which he politely declined.

He dined with her and Tess most evenings. A couple of times he feigned a headache and had food brought to his room. He longed to be back on the train to New York.

One afternoon he went walking by himself down the long expansive lawn. At the end of the lawn was a cliff edge with a straight drop down to the ocean below, where the waves crashed continuously against the rocks. He walked past a gazebo and stood, staring out to sea.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said a voice and he turned to see Victoria.

“Oh, nothing – just looking at the ocean . . . My home is across that ocean, the west of Ireland . . . Armstrong House.” He gazed out at the sea.

Victoria studied him and then her usually happy face turned very sad. “Do you know . . . I think you’re the loneliest person I’ve ever met.”

He turned to her, startled. “I’d better get back to the house.” He turned and walked quickly across the lawn, leaving her staring after him.

Harrison came into the dining room that evening and found Victoria on her own there waiting for him.

“Where’s your mother?”

“She’s retired to bed early, she’s not feeling well. Your headaches must be catching,” she said, smiling cynically at him.

Irritated, he sat down. It was bad enough having dinner every evening with them but at least Tess filled the conversation with talk about East Coast society.

The dinner progressed with Victoria trying to get Harrison to talk about his life in New York.

“So are you courting?” she asked, smiling at him.

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not? I’m sure you’re not short of offers?”

“I’m very busy with work.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.

“Nothing. I just know you work very hard. I know some people at your bank.”

“Really? And why were you bothering to ask about me?”

“I’m interested in people. Aren’t you?”

“No. I know all there is to know about people and I don’t need to know any more.”

“And what do you know of people?”

“That they always look after themselves. That they only pretend to care about others. That if you’re of some use to them, then they’ll use you, and then drop you as soon as you’re of no use to them any more.”

“That’s incredibly cynical, Harrison!” Victoria was taken aback.

“It’s not, it’s the truth. Even Morgan Wells used me, sending me up here to exploit my background to impress your parents. It’s what people do, they use each other.”

“And you don’t?”

“I’ve no need for people, so I don’t use them.”

“You might have tried using me during the week to get my father to sign those papers for you when he returns.”

“If your father wants to sign them he will because there’s something in it for him.”

She studied him. “I’m trying to understand you. She must have hurt you very badly.”

“Who?”

“That girl who left you for your brother.”

Harrison’s eyes welled up in anger and frustration. “What do you know about any of that?”

“I inquired. I know people from Dublin. It caused quite a scandal at the time.”

Harrison threw his napkin on the table. “Have you nothing better to do than go around spying on people?”

He got up from the table and stormed out.

The next day Harrison was walking through the Hall of Mirrors and saw Victoria sitting there on a couch.

He looked at her wearily.

“Good news, Harrison,” she said. “My father is returning in the morning. Don’t worry about your papers. I’ll get him to sign them quickly for you and you can get a train back to New York straight away. You won’t have to put up with me any more.”

“I – I didn’t mean to be rude last night.”

“You weren’t rude, Harrison – you were just being who you’ve become. So you can go back to New York and back to that lonely empty life you have.”

“You don’t know anything about my life there.”

“Yes, I do, it’s written all across your face. If you choose to let what happened in the past destroy the rest of your life, then that’s your choice. If you don’t want to reach out to somebody who’s reaching out to you, then there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But why are you reaching out to me at all? Why do you care?”

“Don’t you see that I’m mad about you? Haven’t you seen all the signs I’ve given you this past week?”

“What?” Harrison was astounded. “You don’t even know me!”

“You don’t want me to know you – you don’t want anybody to know you. And that’s so sad.”

“Let me just go back to New York and forget you ever met me – you’ll be far better off. There’s nothing to me – you’d only be disappointed.”

She got up and walked towards him. “I wouldn’t be if you just let me in.”

“I don’t want to let you in,” he said. “I don’t want to let anybody in.”

“You had a terrible time, but I can help you. I can make it better,” she said, putting her arms around him and holding him tightly.

“Don’t be nice to me!” he begged.

“Why not? You need somebody to be nice to you.”

“Don’t – Victoria,” he said, gently trying to push her away.

She held on to him tightly. “You need somebody to hold you. Let it go, Harrison, let the past go.”

Harrison grabbed on to her and suddenly all the pent-up anguish was escaping in volumes.

“Let it all go,” said Victoria, stroking his hair.

chapter 45

Charles, Arabella and the children moved back to Armstrong House. Quite simply, now that they were penniless and homeless there was nowhere left for them to go. Arabella dreaded the move. She knew that one day, when Lawrence and Margaret were gone and she and Charles were Lord and Lady Armstrong, the house would become theirs and they would be obliged to spend considerable time there. But she had thought that would be in the far-off future.

Lawrence was still enraged about the loss of his house in London as a result of Charles’ deception and fraud. He saw it as an absolute betrayal by his heir, not only of himself but of the whole Armstrong family. Arabella noticed that Lawrence seemed to age overnight from the whole business as the anger and the stress caused by his son took its toll.

“You were given everything in life!” shouted Lawrence. “But all you did was take without ever a thought for me, your mother, your wife or your children!”

“The house in London would be mine one day,” retorted Charles. “All I was doing was raising some capital on it early.”

“One day, but not yet! All you think about is money and power and the good life and being ahead of everyone else.”

“What’s done is done, and there’s no point in you continually going over it,” said Charles.

“Well, I am going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I’ve put the house in Dublin on the market. The auctioneer expects it to be sold within weeks.”

“What?” Charles was horrified. “You have no right to sell that house. You’re throwing away part of the Armstrong fortune being held in trust for me and my son.”

“It’s you that threw away our legacy with your flippancy. No – the house in Dublin is going. I don’t want you distracted by the bright lights of any city in future. Your life and future are now here at Armstrong House and the estate where you will begin to fulfil your role immediately.”

Arabella was upstairs in the nursery with the children as Charles and Lawrence’s shouts echoed through the house.

“Mama, why is Grandfather shouting at Papa?” asked Prudence, not seeming too concerned, unlike Pierce who looked disturbed by the shouting.

“Oh, they are just having a silly argument, nothing to worry about,” soothed Arabella as she stroked Pierce’s hair.

“Oh, like when you and Papa row?” asked Prudence.

Arabella had to admit her children were well used to the rows that erupted between her and Charles. Prudence, who seemed to have nerves of steel, never seemed to give them a second thought.

“Something like that. Now, will I read you a story?” smiled Arabella.

Arabella was sitting on the couch in their bedroom reading, in front of the fire, when Charles came in that night, his face dark with anger.

He walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whiskey from the decanter.

“Finished arguing with your father for the day?” she asked, not looking up from her book.

“I just walked out in the end, I couldn’t listen to him any more.”

“Where did you get to for the rest of the day?”

“Out riding.”

She closed her book and put it on the couch beside her.

“I don’t blame him in the least,” she said.

“Easily known you wouldn’t support me!”

Arabella laughed sarcastically. “Of course I don’t! Squandering my dowry on whatever you squandered it on – French chefs and card games.”

“You didn’t object when we were living the high life.”

“I would have if I’d had an inkling of the fact we were hurtling to financial disaster! But no, as with everything with you, you covered it up with a cloak of secrecy and lies.”

“I was the one deceived by everyone,” Charles said, as he bitterly thought of Fitzroy. “But I never will be again, I swear that. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it, but nobody will ever get the better of me again. I’m still the heir to all this. I’ll still one day be head of this family. And nobody will ever cross me or cheat me again.”

As Arabella looked at him she was almost a little afraid. She knew how ruthless he could be, but this new determination frightened her.

Margaret came into the drawing room where she found Lawrence staring into the fire. She came over and hugged him.

“You know, I often think that this system of primogeniture is wrong,” he said. “Why should the eldest son inherit the title and everything? Why should Charles, who is so unfit for it, one day be Lord Armstrong?”

Margaret looked worried. “That is our system, Lawrence, and one that has worked very well through the centuries and one that will continue to work.”

“I know that. But my other sons would make much better heirs than him. I just can’t trust him, especially after this latest situation.”

“Charles is our heir, Lawrence, and though we can do our best to guide and direct him, we must never doubt or undermine that position with him.”

Lawrence studied his wife. She was a bastion of tradition and continuity. She never questioned the order of things and the family name and reputation always came first. Even with all Charles’ fecklessness and deceit, she in her own mind refused to really accept it was any of Charles’ fault. Margaret was quite content to blame any falling down on Charles’ part as being the result of a bad marriage to an irresponsible woman. Although Lawrence was as shocked as Margaret over Arabella’s behaviour before marriage, he had come to feel quite sorry for her. It was obvious Arabella was still madly in love with Charles, and that love had led her into a life that she had definitely not been brought up to, but she had an inner strength that made her capable of dealing with it. Lawrence suspected most other women would have been broken by Charles long since.

In the dining room one morning Charles looked at a boiled egg in front of him with displeasure as he remembered the wonderful breakfasts conjured up by Monsieur Huppert. He looked across the table at Arabella spreading marmalade on her toast and at his parents at either end of the table.

“There’s a problem with the harvest over at the O’Hara farm. I want us to go and look at it this morning,” Lawrence informed Charles.

Charles nodded as he cracked his egg open with a knife.

“And, Arabella, I’ll be judging a beautiful baby competition in the village this afternoon – perhaps you’d like to join me as a judge?” said Margaret.

Arabella recoiled at the thought. “I’m afraid I’ll be busy with the children. Until we hire a governess I need to be with them.”

“We can bring them with us,” insisted Margaret. “The estate children will love to see them.”

Arabella was going to say something further but thought better of it. There was no point in offending Margaret. As they were going to have to share a house, she had better make an effort.

“Where have you applied for a governess?” asked Margaret.

“Through an agency in Dublin.”

“Although we can’t afford much of a one with the meagre salary I’m allowed to draw from the estate,” bitched Charles. He wasn’t sure if it was part of his punishment or if Lawrence was trying to train him into more frugal ways, but the salary he was being allowed was ridiculously small. He was sure James was on a much higher salary.

James had moved into a large farmhouse on the estate when Charles and his family returned to Armstrong House. Charles thought it looked like a peasant cottage, but didn’t care as long as James wasn’t under his feet any more.

“There’s no need for you to draw a big salary,” stated Lawrence. “All your needs are met here at Armstrong House.”

“And there’s no need for you to use a Dublin agency for a governess,” stated Margaret. “My friend Sally Bramwell will recommend somebody for you. She keeps almost a directory of nannies and governesses to be recommended.”

“I would prefer to do it this way and for the agency to send me down the governess to interview,” objected Arabella.

“Nonsense! Look at that silly French girl you employed in London. You need a good solid, no-nonsense woman, and Sally Bramwell will know just such a woman.”

“I need somebody caring and kind as well,” said Arabella.

“Solid and no-nonsense is what you need for those children, particularly Prudence.”

The new butler Fennell came in and gave the post to Margaret.

“Thank you, Fennell,” said Margaret and, once he had left, said, “I was sorry to see Barton leave us, but he was simply too old to continue his duties here. You know, Fennell was quite a find. I hope he stays with us many years. I believe he’s become quite serious with the cook’s assistant, so hopefully they’ll marry and it will be an incentive to stay . . . ah, a letter from Gwyneth!” Margaret opened the letter and started to read it. Suddenly her face clouded over.

“What is it?” asked Lawrence.

“Seemingly Hugh Fitzroy has bought our house in London from the bank! Himself and Emily are moving in next week!”

“Unbelievable!” Lawrence was amazed.

Margaret became upset. “The thought of our beautiful house in that man’s hands!”

“At least it will still be in the family,” stated Charles with a cough.

“The family! He’s not our family, he’s filth!” stated Margaret.

“We’ll be the talk of the place in London,” said Lawrence sadly.

Margaret got up from the table and hurried out, followed by Lawrence.

Arabella sat back in her chair and clapped slowly. “Well done, Charles! I warned you about Fitzroy, I told you what you were dealing with and you just ignored me. You’ve given him your sister, you’ve given him your house – in fact you’ve given him your life. While you are left to look at bad harvests and I to judge baby contests.”

chapter 46

Sally Bramwell did indeed forward a governess for the children, called Miss Kingston. And as Margaret requested, Miss Kingston was a solid, no-nonsense woman.

Unfortunately Prudence had a personality clash with her from the start.

“Mama, why do we have to eat with her all the time in the nursery? I want to eat with you,” objected Prudence in the drawing room one evening.

“Nonsense,” said Margaret. “Children always eat with the governess.”

“We used to eat with Mama in London a lot,” stated Prudence.

“Well, you’re not in London now, Prudence dear. Now run along or your dinner will be cold and Miss Kingston will be angry.”

“Miss Kingston is always angry!” said Prudence.

“Perhaps she is angry because you make her so?” Margaret suggested.

Arabella went to say something to Margaret but decided to bite her tongue.

“I’ll be up to you after dinner,” said Arabella, smiling at Prudence.

“I know your parents were quite lax and indulgent with you growing up, Arabella. Children need to know they are loved but with strict guidelines. Otherwise we know where they can end up.” Margaret smiled sadly at Arabella.

Arabella became angry at the obvious insult to her. “Well, I presume you brought Charles up with love and strict guidelines, and he doesn’t seem to have been too bothered with either all his life!”

“Arabella!” Margaret was shocked. “A wife must never criticise her husband!”

Miss Kingston had tutored some of the best families in the country and so she was used to the aristocracy and their ways. She often found governesses were in a unique position. They had power and charge over the children who would one day be the establishment. She was looking forward to life at Armstrong House, with this very noble family. Her living quarters were lovely and the servants pleasant. She didn’t have much to do with Lord Lawrence and Lady Margaret, but found them to have that commanding but kind dignity they were known for.

But it was the immediate family she worked for that she had problems with. The children Prudence and Pierce were quite extraordinary to her mind. They weren’t like the normal children of their age she had dealt with who were all the things children were known for being: in turn kind, inquisitive, naughty, lazy or delightful. These children were different. Prudence was way ahead of her years – manipulative, clever, sly and smart-mouthed. Miss Kingston found it nearly impossible to win any argument with her, and they were usually instigated by the girl. Pierce was much quieter, happy living in his own world, in his sister’s overbearing shadow, and yet because he was such a handsome child he was used to and expected people to flock and fuss around him. And then there were the parents, thought Miss Kingston. Charles was arrogant and too sure of himself and seemed bitter over a world that didn’t worship him as he thought it should. Arabella, Miss Kingston thought, was a strong woman but she seemed unhappy and sometimes living on her nerves. Miss Kingston would hear the two of them rowing loudly into the night, oblivious to the fact others could hear in the house.

Prudence sat in the schoolroom with Pierce as Miss Kingston droned on about European geography. Prudence sat gazing out the window. Charles had gone off on estate business all day and she longed to be out with him rather than stuck in there.

“Prudence!”

“What?”

“I’ve asked you three times and you’ve ignored me. The capital of Germany?”

“Berlin!” Prudence snapped back irritably.

“Would you please drop that attitude!” Miss Kingston became angry. “And how are you to answer questions to me? I’ve told you a thousand times? Berlin what?”

“Berlin is the capital of Germany!”

“No!”

“But it is!”

“I mean, you are to respond to my questions with the words ‘Miss Kingston’!”

“Oh I see!” Prudence said sarcastically.

“Now, let’s try it again – what is the capital of Germany?”

“Miss Kingston!”

“Ahhh! You must answer: ‘The capital of Germany is Berlin, Miss Kingston!’”

“But if you knew that in the first place then why did you ask me?” said Prudence.

Miss Kingston shrieked in frustration as Pierce erupted in laughter.

Miss Kingston rushed over to her desk to take out a ruler to slap the girl. She opened the desk and saw a dead rat lying there. Screaming, she ran from the room leaving Prudence and Pierce in convulsions of laughter.

Miss Kingston sat stony-faced in front of Arabella in the small parlour across from the drawing room.

“I simply will not teach that child again. I hand in my notice as of today,” announced Miss Kingston.

“Which one of my children are you referring to?”

“Prudence, of course! Although if you forgive me for saying, there isn’t much ‘prudent’ about her. She’s rude, insolent, conniving –”

“Yes, I think you’ve made your point, Miss Kingston.”

“I have never in all my time encountered a child who seems so sure of herself and so insolent and disobedient.”

“Thank you and goodbye, Miss Kingston.” Arabella tried to dismiss her.

“I sometimes wonder whether the girl is bad or slightly mad!”

“Thank you and good day, Miss Kingston! You were never my choice anyway! My mother-in-law thrust you upon us as she said you were ‘solid and no-nonsense’. Although if a ten-year-old girl can have you running for the hills, that description of you is obviously false.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Mrs Armstrong, I think both your children are unsettled and I wonder, observing your marriage while here at Armstrong House, whether it is being caused by being brought up in a disturbed family.”

“How dare you!”

“It manifests itself in Prudence knowing no boundaries and poor Pierce going into his shell.”

“I want you to leave Armstrong House at once, without reference, Miss Kingston. I’ll get Fennell to organise a carriage to take you to the train station.”

“It will be my pleasure to leave,” said Miss Kingston, departing.

Arabella realised she was shaking when Miss Kingston closed the door. She went over to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a strong drink.

The next week Arabella contacted a Dublin agency who sent down a new governess. Prudence had the new governess dispatched in three weeks flat. Arabella didn’t see in her children anything to confirm the worrying reports of the governesses or indeed the overheard conversations of the servants or Margaret’s criticisms. All she experienced was two children who loved and worshipped her and Charles unconditionally. Who longed for and adored being in their parents’ company and were such a comfort to her when the going was tough with Charles.

Arabella was in the drawing room with Margaret in the morning as Margaret planned the day ahead. Fennell the butler stood there attentively.

“The Foxes are coming to dinner, Fennell, so I think we’ll have lamb tonight – it was always Mrs Foxe’s favourite.”

“Very good, my lady, I’ll inform Cook,” said Fennell.

“And what dinner service to use?” Margaret looked at Arabella. “What do you think, Arabella.”

“I’m not familiar with the dinner services,” said Arabella.

“Well, I’ve asked you several times to come with me and let me talk you through them, so it’s your own fault you don’t know,” said Margaret unpleasantly before turning to Fennell. “You can leave us for now, Fennell. Send Cook up to me please before lunch and I’ll go through the rest of the menu with her.”

“Very good, my lady.” Fennell retreated from the room.

“Honestly, Arabella, you need to know about all the dinner services and cutlery we have at Armstrong House. How else are you going to fill your role as Lady Armstrong when the time comes?”

“Forgive me, Margaret, but I really don’t have an interest in plates and spoons!”

“Well, that’s obvious. I often wonder what you are interested in? I thought you and Charles were supposed to have held the most exquisite dinner parties in London before you went bankrupt? How did you at all manage that with this disinterest you have?”

“It was mostly arranged by Charles and the staff.”

“While you just turned up looking pretty?” Margaret spoke sarcastically.

“Anyway, our time in London taught me how false all that is . . . and besides, I was busy with my children.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, busy not doing a very good job! I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while about them. I’ve had reports back from Fennell that Prudence is practically turning the parlour maids’ lives into torture with her pranks while Pierce spends his time daydreaming, staring out the window.”

Arabella became annoyed. “My goodness! What is wrong with all these servants who can’t cope with a couple of children? They aren’t made of very strong stuff, is all I can say.”

“Of course, it’s not the child’s fault,” said Margaret. “She just isn’t getting the proper upbringing. I think I shall take her in hand myself.”

“You might be able to dictate everything else in this house, but you will not dictate to Prudence and Pierce. I don’t want you having any direct involvement in their upbringing, not after how your own children turned out.”

“I beg your pardon! I know how to bring up young ladies.”

“You can blame me and Charles as much as you want about Emily, but the truth is you emotionally battered and beat Emily into being what you wanted and limited her options so much that she practically ran away to marry Fitzroy to escape the life you made for her. I want my daughter and son to be free of all that. I don’t care if Prudence doesn’t know how to walk elegantly and speak German fluently. I don’t care if she never gets married. I want her to have the freedom to be herself, and that’s how I intend to keep it!”

Arabella stood up and stormed off.

chapter 47

Charles rode his horse through the small gateway into the Doherty farmholding on the Armstrong estate. He found himself in a yard in front of a small thatched cottage typical of the homes on the estate. Hens were walking around the yard clucking as a stray calf pulled at a haystack in the corner of the yard.

“Good afternoon!” he called.

A moment later a woman in her thirties came out, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Hello, your lordship, you’re very welcome,” said the woman.

“Is this the Doherty farm?”

“It is, of course, your lordship, sure what else would it be? I’m Nuala Doherty.”

“My father asked me to come and meet him here. Where is he?” asked Charles, just then spotting his father’s carriage at the gable of the house.

“Isn’t he up with my husband Denis – they’re inspecting the high meadow, although to be truthful with you, sir, it isn’t much of a high meadow with the bad weather we had and the bad harvest we’re getting.”

“Indeed, quite. Did he say he would be long?” asked Charles impatiently.

“Ah sure, isn’t this him coming back now!” she said, pointing to another gateway.

In through that gateway walked Lawrence accompanied by James and a farmer in his thirties.

“You finally managed to find the place all right then?” said Lawrence disapprovingly to Charles who was an hour late.

“I got lost down by the river,” said Charles.

“Charles, this is Denis Doherty – the farmer who rents this holding and who we were talking about yesterday.”

“Sure you’re as welcome as sunlight on a rainy day, your lordship,” smiled Denis warmly.

Charles managed to smile and nod at the man.

“Anyway,” said Lawrence, shaking his head, worried. “That harvest in the meadow is as bad as you said it is, Denis.”

“That it is, your lordship,” Denis nodded his head sadly.

“And we put that much shite on the ground, if you pardon the expression, we were expecting a bumper harvest,” said Nuala.

Lawrence smiled. “I know how hard you worked – very disappointing for you.”

“So what do we do, that’s the question,” said James.

“Won’t ye come in for some tea to discuss it all?” said Nuala. “I’ve the kettle boiling.”

“Very kind of you, Nuala,” said Lawrence happily as he followed the Dohertys to their front door.

Charles raised his eyes to heaven as he turned his horse around. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head back to Armstrong House.”

Lawrence turned quickly around and gave Charles a warning look. “You’ll do no such thing, Charles. Come in with us, we’ve business to discuss.”

Charles reluctantly jumped off his horse and followed them in. Inside he saw a kitchen with a door on either end, presumably leading to bedrooms. As Charles counted five children glaring at him in awe, he wondered where they all slept. The kitchen was clean with flagstones on the floor, a bed beside the open fire that was blazing and a dresser full of delph. There were holy pictures on the wall and a crucifix over the bed.

“Sit yourselves down here,” said Nuala and the men all sat down around a wooden table beside the small window.

Nuala made the tea and filled their tea cups. Then she cut large slices of soda bread and put it on plates, gave one to each of them and placed butter and jam on the table.

“Nuala, this soda bread is excellent!” complimented Lawrence after he had taken a bite.

“Ah thanks, your lordship, I made it myself and the jam and the butter.” Nuala was delighted.

“Well, I tell you, you could teach the cooks at Armstrong House a thing or two,” said Lawrence.

“I’ve another just baked this morning – I’ll wrap it up for you and you can take it back to Lady Armstrong,” smiled Nuala.

“Most kind – we can have it tonight after our dinner as a special treat.” Lawrence made a grinning face at her, as Charles raised his eyes to heaven.

“Anyway on to the business at hand,” suggested James. “That bad harvest has left you in a predicament, Denis.”

“That it has,” Denis nodded sadly.

“What chance have you to pay the rent this year?”

“Not much chance, sorry to say, not much chance at all,” said Denis.

“You’re already in arrears from last year, Denis,” Lawrence pointed out.

“I know, sir . . . the child was sick last year and most of our money went on medical bills.” Denis pointed to what in Charles’ mind was a fine strapping girl sitting on the bed.

Lawrence coughed and sat forward. “Would you be able to pay half of what you owe this year?”

“I could manage that, sir.”

Lawrence nodded thoughtfully. “What I propose is we write off what you owe last year and in exchange for that you’ll do some harvesting work for us. Then with your rent this year we’ll restructure your payments over the next two years so it won’t leave you short and yet all your arrears will be paid up over a twenty-four-month period. How does that sound?”

Denis Doherty looked delighted. “Your lordship is very good – that sounds grand. I won’t let you down. I’ll work every hour to catch up on me arrears.”

“Good man!” Lawrence patted his arm approvingly.

To Charles’ horror one of the children jumped up on his lap and gave him a hug.

“Get down off his lordship’s lap before you dirty his fine new suit!” warned Nuala, horrified.

“Too late, I’m afraid,” said Charles as he observed the big dirty imprint left on his jacket by the child.

Nuala quickly retrieved her child.

“He’s just so happy we’ve come to an arrangement over the payment. This little one was worried sick and couldn’t sleep – he hears all the stories about evictions and so on,” said Denis.

“No need to worry on that account.” Lawrence winked reassuringly at him before standing. “And now we must get on. Nuala, thank you for a delightful tea.”

“Sure the pleasure was all ours. Sure the neighbours will be that jealous we got a visit from your honour.” Nuala gave a little curtsy.

Outside Lawrence and James got into their carriage and waved goodbye before taking off. Charles jumped on his horse, dug his heels into the horse’s sides and sped off without looking back.

Back at the library in Armstrong House Charles sat at the desk looking through the rent books of the estate. Lawrence and James walked in.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re at last taking an interest in the bookwork of the estate,” commented Lawrence.

“Oh, I’m taking an interest all right. So far I reckon I’ve counted a fifth of the tenants who are in some sort of arrears,” said Charles, closing over the book.

“We have arrangements with them all so they’ll catch up with their repayments,” said James.

“What, like the arrangement you came to with Doherty today, when you just wrote off last year’s debt?” asked Charles incredulously.

“We haven’t written it off,” said James. “You heard he’ll do work in exchange for it.”

“As I said – written it off!”

“Well, what would you suggest we do?” demanded Lawrence. “That family is struggling and on its knees.”

“Struggling!” Charles was dismissive. “They don’t look like they’re struggling to me, with their chickens walking around everywhere and their fine fat children. In fact, Nuala Doherty looks to me as if she could lose a few pounds.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Lawrence.

“No, you’re the one being ridiculous. They made a total fool of you. Can’t pay the rent indeed, and he’ll be off down in Cassidy’s pub in Castlewest tonight spending our rent!”

“And what would you suggest we do with them?” asked Lawrence.

“Give them two weeks to pay everything or kick them out and get in somebody on their land who is willing to pay,” said Charles.

“Evict them!” Lawrence was horrified. “The Dohertys have been on this land as long as the Armstrongs. Longer in fact as they were farmers here before our ancestors got this estate.”

“No wonder they’re here that long when they don’t have to pay any rent!” Charles said.

“Up until last year they were never late with their payments,” said James.

“Well, I can assure you they will never be on time again, now they see how soft you are,” predicted Charles.

“We have to co-operate with the tenants otherwise we’ll be at war with them, and they’re not people you cross,” said Lawrence.

“You’re afraid of them and they know it. You think you’re in a partnership with these people and they respect you. They don’t! They despise you! They hate giving you rent for land they think is theirs and that our ancestors stole from them.”

“Which is all the more reason to not rock the boat with them,” said Lawrence. “I will not have our estate go down the same road as others in this country with hatred and mistrust.”

“The only way to run it is like a business! You two are living in the past when you thought all the gentry had to do was wave benevolently to the tenants and the estate would be profitable. Times have changed. You might mock people like Fitzroy, but they know how to make money in today’s world and come out on top. It’s all about making money and that’s how this estate should be run,” Charles stood up and walked out, leaving Lawrence looking after him worried.

chapter 48

Arabella and Charles were having drinks with Lawrence in the drawing room when Margaret came rushing in holding a letter.

“It’s a letter from Harrison!” she announced and Charles and Arabella gave each other an uncomfortable look.

“Well, that’s an unusual thing! How is he?” asked Lawrence, surprised.

“He’s – getting married!”

“What? To whom?” asked Lawrence, standing up and rushing to his wife to see the letter.

“To a Victoria Van Hoevan,” said Margaret.

“Van Hoevan?” Charles asked, immediately recognising the surname and very curious to know more.

“Yes, Van Hoevan! As in the Van Hoevans!” confirmed Margaret excitedly. “He’s sent our wedding invitation and everything!” Margaret handed the invitation to Lawrence.

Lawrence took the invitation and started to read it “And the reception is in Newport, Rhode Island. Newport – it’s that Van Hoevan family all right.”

“Yes, yes! Oh, Lawrence!” Margaret turned and hugged her husband. “I’ve been so worried about him all these years, and frightened for him alone in America and how he was, with scarcely a card from him, and here he is marrying a Van Hoevan!”

She suddenly started to cry and Lawrence comforted her. “Wipe away those tears, darling. You’re being silly – this is good news.”

“Goods news! It’s the best news ever. He’s invited us all over to the wedding.” She looked at Charles and Arabella. “Well, nearly all of us – he says he’s inviting Gwyneth, Daphne, Emily, their husbands and James of course. I’m afraid he doesn’t mention you, Charles and Arabella, and I presume no invitation came to you in the post.”

“Don’t say he’s still sore after all these years?” Charles said with an exaggerated sigh.

Arabella gave him a withering look.

Margaret and Lawrence hurried out to find James to tell him the news.

Arabella sat back and digested the news.

“Harrison marrying into one of America’s richest families – who’d ever have thought?” said Charles.

“I’m not surprised. Harrison has many fine qualities. I hope he’ll be very happy.”

“Aren’t you jealous?”

“Not in the least. If anything I’m relieved. Harrison has been a huge source of guilt to me over the years, and I’m delighted he’s finally settling down with someone.”

“Not just someone – a Van Hoevan.”

She looked at him pointedly. “Well, he always had good taste, if I say so myself. Pity I didn’t have as sound taste myself.”

He smirked at her and said mockingly, “Well, it’s not too late if you feel that strongly about it. You might be able to rush over and stop the wedding.”

“No, interfering in marriage arrangements is your speciality.”

“Well, let’s hope he has better luck, and taste, in choosing his fiancée this time round.”

“As you won’t be allowed anywhere near his wedding I’m sure he’ll have all the luck in the world,” said Arabella.

Although Lawrence was excited about seeing Harrison again, he was extremely concerned about leaving the estate in Charles’ care as they headed off to America for the wedding. There wouldn’t even be James there to keep an eye on things as he was naturally going to the wedding as well.

“Oh, he’ll be all right,” Margaret reassured him as they got in to their landau carriage and waved goodbye to Charles and Arabella and the children who were standing at the door.

“I wonder,” said Lawrence.

“You said yourself he’s taking a much keener interest in the running of the estate.”

“That’s what’s worrying me!” confided Lawrence.

Fennell was serving breakfast to Charles and Arabella.

“Do you know, I fancy salmon tonight,” said Charles. “Tell Cook to prepare salmon and tell her to try and do something fancy and French with it.”

Fennell looked concerned.

“I take it Cook can’t do something fancy and French,” smiled Arabella knowingly.

“Well, it’s not that, it’s just we haven’t had salmon all season. None has been caught from the river and delivered to the house.”

“Whyever not?” asked Charles. “There was always fresh salmon caught in the river and served when I was growing up.”

Fennell shrugged.

“Ask the head gamekeeper to come and see me at twelve,” instructed Charles.

“Why is there no salmon being caught in the river this year?” asked Charles.

“I’m afraid it’s a bad year for salmon, sir.”

Charles raised his eyes to heaven. “Is it a bad year for everything this year around here?”

The gamekeeper shifted uncomfortably. “His lordship gave instructions no salmon was to be fished in order to allow the salmon to restock.”

“A river that was so plentiful with salmon doesn’t just run dry.”

The gamekeeper continued to shift uncomfortably.

“What else is going on with the salmon?” asked Charles coolly, seeing the gamekeeper was hiding something.

“Well, there’s been a lot of poaching in the river lately.”

“Poaching!”

“Yes, sir. To be honest all the tenant farmers always do a bit of poaching and his lordship always turns a blind eye to it.”

“There’s a surprise.”

“But this past couple of years you have a lot of poachers coming out from Castlewest and helping themselves as they know his lordship won’t call the police.”

“I can’t believe it! So we must starve while strangers feed on our salmon!”

The gamekeeper’s eyes widened at Charles’ exaggeration.

“I want you to gather your best men and we’ll go down to the river tonight. We’ll catch these bastards who are stealing our salmon.”

It was a moonlit night as Charles and four of the gamekeepers hid near the river behind trees. The men were waiting there with guns. It was cold and a bird called as the wind rustled through the branches. A couple of hours went by and Charles was freezing but he was determined to put an end to this plundering which his father had not only ignored but had encouraged by turning a blind eye.

Suddenly three men came down a laneway to the river and started talking to each other before they started casting their nets.

“When I count to three, rush them!” ordered Charles. “One, two . . . three!”

The gamekeepers came running out of the bushes, startling the poachers.

“Get the bastards!” shouted Charles.

They managed to grab two of the poachers but the third went racing into the trees.

The two frightened poachers were brought in front of Charles by the gamekeepers.

“Bring them down to the police in the town. Have them charged with theft and poaching,” ordered Charles.

The gamekeepers looked warily at each other.

“I don’t think his lordship would want to involve the police, sir. He’d just want them well warned and released,” said the head gamekeeper.

“Do as I say – take these thieves down to the police station at once,” commanded Charles as he turned and headed back to Armstrong House.

chapter 49

Arabella much enjoyed the few weeks that Lawrence and Margaret were away. It was nice having the house to themselves without Margaret’s constant spying and criticisms and Charles’ constant arguing with Lawrence and James. Her thoughts often drifted to Harrison and what his wedding would be like, what this Victoria Van Hoevan was like. She wondered if Harrison was the same as when she knew him. Was he still as lovely and trusting and kind? She hoped he was. Having lived with Charles for so many years those qualities of Harrison were much more endearing to her now than they had been to her as a young girl when her head was turned by charm and danger and intrigue.

Margaret and Lawrence arrived back from America full of talk about the wedding. As they handed presents to Prudence and Pierce in the drawing room the evening of their arrival they regaled Charles and Arabella with stories.

“It was simply amazing!” said Margaret. “The wealth and extravagance was staggering! These Van Hoevans certainly know how to live!”

“We travelled in a motor car!” said Lawrence. “I don’t mind telling you I was terrified.”

“The wedding reception was at the Van Hoevan house, their palace by the sea. The reception was on the lawn! In front of the ocean! Can you imagine!”

“A river of champagne ran the whole day, and I mean river!” said Lawrence.

“Everyone who was anyone in American society was there,” said Margaret proudly.

Charles stood at the fireplace, mesmerised with all the reports of glamour beyond anything he could ever imagine for himself.

“And what of Harrison? How was Harrison?” asked Arabella eventually.

“Oh, he’s perfectly happy! Blissfully happy!” said Margaret, delighted to give this report to Arabella.

“He looked very well, and delighted we could all make it over,” said Lawrence.

“Even Emily and Fitzroy, although I don’t know what American society made of him. He, of course, loved being amongst the nobs, but I’ll tell you more about that later,” said Margaret, disgusted by the memory of him.

“And what of the girl? The girl he married?” asked Charles, his curiosity piqued to fever point.

Margaret sat back with a hugely satisfied look on her face. “She’s perfection, absolute perfection. Beautiful, cultured, educated and just a thoroughly nice person.”

“They said she came into a million-dollar trust fund on her twenty-first birthday,” chuckled Lawrence.

Charles suddenly dropped his glass of wine and it smashed to the floor.

“Are you all right, Charles?” asked Margaret, concerned.

“Yes, clumsy of me,” said Charles, tugging the bell pull to call Fennell to clean up the mess.

Lawrence sighed loudly. “I’m absolutely exhausted. The trip back on the ocean liner was very tiresome. I’m going to bed.”

Arabella had to admit Lawrence looked aged and tired from the whole trip.

“I’ll come with you too,” said Margaret, linking his arm.

“Yes, Victoria was a dream,” said Margaret as she left the room. “Everything you’d want in a daughter-in-law, but so seldom get.”

Arabella and Charles looked at each other discontentedly.

Charles found himself lost in thought of Harrison and this fairytale bride he’d found. All Margaret and Lawrence seemed to talk about was Harrison and his wife. They seemed so proud of him. The whole thing only caused resentment in Charles. Resentment of Harrison who had been allowed to sail off to this fantastic new life. Resentment of his father who put such restrictions on his life. Resentment of Fitzroy who cheated him of his life and good name in London. And resentment of Arabella. Arabella whose marriage with him had been born out of avoiding a scandal. Arabella whose dowry paled in comparison to this Victoria Van Hoevan’s. Arabella who made unpleasant comments to him and who rowed with him incessantly. He loved his children, but he remembered the all-consuming passionate desire and love he had for Arabella at the beginning, and he had to admit to himself that it no longer existed. Arabella carried herself well as a society hostess in London and he had enjoyed the envy she inspired in people. But she seemed no longer interested in being a society hostess since returning to Armstrong House, and he had to admit the opportunity to be one was greatly diminished in his parents’ home. But she seemed uninterested in anything. She never went into town and, although Charles had accepted the drapers and haberdasheries of Castlewest could not compete with the delights of Bond Street and Knightsbridge, she could at least show some interest. Apart from walking through the gardens, she never ventured beyond that to the estate. She talked politely at dinner parties and social gatherings, but she was no great society hostess.

Charles came down the staircase, putting on his gloves and dressed in his riding clothes.

“Excuse me, Mr Charles, but his lordship would like to see you in the library,” Fennell informed him.

Charles tutted, took off his hat and gloves and left them on the sideboard. He headed into the library where he found Lawrence sitting behind his desk, looking angry.

“Tell me this isn’t so, Charles?” asked Lawrence.

“What exactly are you talking about?” Charles asked irritably.

“Did you go and catch poachers while I was in America and hand them over to the police for prosecution?” demanded Lawrence.

“Yes, I did,” said Charles, unconcerned.

“And what became of them?”

“They were put in gaol for a week and given a hefty fine.”

“How dare you – who gave you permission to do such a thing?” Lawrence’s face was red with anger.

“I did! I was in charge and these men were breaking the law by stealing our best salmon and deserved prosecution,” Charles said assuredly.

“You stupid, stupid boy! Don’t you know anything? Don’t you understand anything?”

“I understand peasants stealing what does not belong to them and them needing to be taught a lesson and made an example of,” said Charles.

“You had no right! You have no understanding of history our own family history. We’ve turned a blind eye to poaching on the river ever since the famine, when the fish stock there allowed many families to survive. It’s an unwritten understanding between us and the locals.”

“The famine! The famine was fifty years ago – it’s ancient history, I’ve told you before.”

“That famine built such a resentment towards our class from the locals that we have to at all times tread very carefully. We are a rich and powerful family but times are changing. This Land War has very much strengthened the peasants’ rights. Some of the gentry families are already pulling out of Ireland, taking advantage of the land acts that enabled their tenants to buy them out. They don’t want to stay here in a country that makes them feel unwelcome as it hurries to Home Rule.”

“Home Rule! They’ve been going on about Home Rule for the past hundred years, and they will be going on about it in a hundred years, but it will never come to pass.”

“Don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you? My father successfully brought this great estate through the terrible famine, and I successfully brought it through the worst years of the Land War. And here you are, upsetting and risking those decades of careful politics and diplomacy by calling in the police over a couple of salmon being poached!”

“And why not? I see the way you flutter around those peasants and it makes me sick!” Charles adopted a mocking imitation of Lawrence’s accent: “‘Fine day, Mr Doyle, what lovely children, Mrs O’Hara, soda bread is simply thrilling, Mrs Kennedy!’”

“But that’s what running an estate like this involves – good relations!”

“I piss on your good relations!”

“Charles!”

“They are peasants – filthy, uneducated peasants!”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s true!” Charles leaned forward across the desk, his face a mask of anger as everything came whirring through his mind at the same time from Harrison’s marriage to Fitzroy’s cheating to Arabella’s arguments. “You’ve let them take advantage of you all your life, but I won’t let them do the same to me or my son. I’ll run this place like a finely tuned business when my time comes. I won’t be walked over and poached and taken advantage of by those wretched people we have nothing in common with!”

Lawrence stared at his son’s angry face and felt fear. Not for himself but for the future of the family and the estate.

He sat down at the desk and sighed. “You might have more in common with the peasants than you think.”

“Yes, we breathe the same air, and that’s where it stops.”

Lawrence studied Charles’ arrogant and angry face and knew he had to do something to divert the disaster that would come to the estate with Charles’ attitude and actions.

“I want to tell you something – something I’ve never told a living soul, not even your mother, especially not your mother,” said Lawrence.

Charles looked at the strange expression on Lawrence’s face.

“I’ve kept this secret for years, but as you are my heir you need to know the truth, and to keep the secret as well.”

“Get on with it!” said Charles unpleasantly.

“My mother, Lady Anna, told me this when she was dying. She told me that when she was younger and married to my father, Lord Edward, she had an affair. And that I was the result of this affair.”

“What?” Charles shouted.

“Edward never knew I was not his real son. When my mother told me Edward had already passed away. It weighed heavy on her conscience and so she told me – she had to share it with me.”

“And who then was your real father?” Charles felt as if the whole world he knew was turning upside-down in front of him.

“A peasant,” confirmed Lawrence.

“Noooo!” screamed Charles. “You’re lying!”

“Why would I lie?” said Lawrence.

“I don’t know – to anger me, to teach me some sort of lesson on humility.”

“I’m not lying, Charles. Lord Edward Armstrong, wonderful man and father that he was to me, was not my real father. I never knew who my real father was or even his identity, only that he wasn’t from our class.”

“But – but – your whole life has been a lie, and you’ve made our lives a lie as well!”

“I only found this out when I was in my twenties. Edward had passed away and my mother was not far off it herself. My mother was so kind and loving to everyone and yet she always seemed haunted by something. When she told me this, I realised this was what haunted her.”

“And why didn’t you keep this to yourself? Why have you told me? Can you imagine what effect this will have on me?”

“That’s precisely why I did tell you. I’m so worried about your attitude and the way you behave to the tenants and even the staff in the house. You think you’re above them and you need to understand you’re not. You’re part of them and they are part of you.”

Charles’ face contorted in anger. “You make me sick! I can’t even bear to look at you! The result of a sordid affair, and you had the audacity to judge me when Arabella became pregnant!”

“I judged you over how you treated Harrison, but if you remember it was I encouraged you to marry Arabella and accept fate. Ever since I found out how I was conceived I’ve understood that nature has its own way of dealing with things and pushing the human race on even though sometimes we don’t understand it. I said this to your mother when she was distraught about Arabella being pregnant. I explained to her it was nature’s way of promoting our family – in the same way my mother’s liaison pushed the Armstrong family to the next generation.”

“But you weren’t the next generation of the Armstrong family – you were some bastard of a peasant!”

“Charles!”

“It’s the fucking truth!”

“Once you calm down you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“I will never recover from this! You’ve robbed me of my identity. And if you think this will make me somehow bond with the locals then you’re sadly mistaken. Whereas before I looked down on them, now I’ll despise them. And my children will never find out this dirty family secret you’ve burdened me with!”

Charles turned and stormed from the room.

“Charles!” Lawrence shouted after him, but he was gone.

Charles went storming through the courtyards at the back of the house.

“Get me a horse – now!” he roared at a passing stable boy who ran into a stable and brought out a saddled mare straight away. Charles jumped on the horse and dug his heels into her so that she took off at high speed.

Charles raced down the avenue through the parklands surrounding Armstrong House. For the next couple of hours he rode the horse fast through the lanes and roads that crisscrossed the Armstrong estate. He jumped the horse over hedges and gates, scattering groups of children who fled for their lives as he passed by. He continued up into the hills and finally stopped when he got to the top of a high hill. He dismounted from the exhausted horse.

As the horse wandered off he stood on top of the hill. He used to come to that hill when he was a child. It offered a breathtaking view across the entire estate. He could see the hundreds of tenant cottages spread out like a patchwork. In the distance stood Armstrong House majestically on the shores of the lake that stretched out for miles beyond it. He had stood there like a prince all those times before, surveying the kingdom that would one day be his. Confident in his position in life as the heir to a noble family that had stretched back centuries. Even the area and the earldom were named after them. And yet that had been taken from him, stolen by a few words of honesty that afternoon from his father. As he surveyed the estate he realised his heritage didn’t lie in the regal stonework of Armstrong House but somewhere in that patchwork of cottages that spread out like a plague of thistles across the land. He sank to his knees in despair. He had always studied the portraits of his ancestors that hung in the house, delighting in the fact that he was their descendent. And now he had been told they were strangers to him. He shared no blood with them.

It was night by the time Charles rode the weary horse back to Armstrong House. He handed the animal to a stable boy and made his way to the front door and let himself in.

“Charles!” said Arabella, rushing from the drawing room. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all day.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at her ashen face.

“It’s your father – he collapsed in the library this afternoon. Fennell found him lying unconscious on the floor.”

“Where is he now?”

“Upstairs with the doctor and Margaret. They’ve been up there for hours!”

At that moment Margaret and the doctor came down the stairs.

“If I could speak to you somewhere private?” asked the doctor.

“We’ll go into the drawing room,” said Margaret, leading them in and closing the door.

James was already in there, pacing nervously up and down.

“Well?” demanded James.

“Lord Armstrong has had a major coronary attack,” said the doctor.

“Will he be all right, Doctor? What can you do for him?” asked Margaret in a surprisingly even voice.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do for him. He really shouldn’t have travelled to America for the wedding, he wasn’t well enough. I advised him not to go. He’s been in bad health for a while.”

“He never said anything!” Margaret was shocked.

“He didn’t want to worry you. He has been very stressed with one thing and another.” The doctor shot Charles a look.

“But he will recover?” asked Arabella, alarmed.

“I’m afraid not. He should last for a couple of weeks, but who can say after that,” said the doctor.

James sat down on the couch and buried his head in his hands as he started crying in a strange gasping manner.

Charles stood rigid, his face pale as a ghost.

But what astounded Arabella most was Margaret. She and Lawrence were so close, so loving, she expected her to collapse in tears or even faint. Instead she went to the bell pull and tugged it.

“We must send telegrams to all the children immediately. They all need to get back and see their father. I hope Harrison can get back from America in time.”

Fennell arrived in.

“Fennell, go to Castlewest immediately and have telegrams sent to London, Dublin and New York and tell all my children their father is dying and they are to come back immediately. I shall give you the addresses shortly.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Send me in the housekeeper. We must have all the guest rooms aired and made up for their arrival. We’ll put Gwyneth and His Grace in the Blue Room.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Harrison and Victoria in the Red Room . . .”

Arabella could only look on in awe and shock as Margaret continued with the arrangements with military precision.

In London, Emily and Hugh Fitzroy sat eating their dinner in silence. She cringed as he ate his roasted duck with the worst table manners she had ever witnessed. As he slobbered over his food she found he was making her lose her appetite. He spotted the look of disdain on her face.

“What’s the matter?” he demanded.

“Nothing!” she said as she delicately cut her meat with her silver knife.

He threw his fork down on the table and picked up what was left of the duck on his plate and started sucking it.

As she watched him she began to feel sick.

Marriage to Hugh had not been what she had expected. Oh, the travel was exciting at the beginning. South America and Europe and even as far as India. She had gluttonously fed on the sights and sounds of all the foreign climates she never had expected to see. But as the marriage continued, she realised there was no more foreign a sight than Hugh. As she became used to his ways she realised they had very little in common. And seeing him in his full ignorance, he sometimes repelled her.

Then there were other things, darker things, that she could only see shadows of but she feared ever seeing those things in the full light of day. He would go out at night and never explain where he was going. Sometimes he would disappear for days and leave her worried sick. And when he did come back he would look exhausted and wrecked and sleep for twenty-four hours without waking up. She tried to question him about where he went and what was he doing in these absences, but he would clam up and sometimes get angry.

She had never considered herself a snob in any way. She hated snobbery. She had hated her mother’s and their circle’s way of doing things. She had thought marrying Hugh would be an escape from all that, yet she often thought he was an even bigger snob than they were, the way he revered the upper classes and strained every nerve to aspire to being just like them. All the time he strove to be accepted by society. He continuously splashed his money around buying friendships with people who Emily could see viewed him with contempt. He loved attending the high-class functions with Emily and continually telling people that he was married to Lady Emily Armstrong as if she were some badge of honour he wore to impress people. Sometimes she thought he despised her. Sometimes she wondered if he despised her because he could see the disdain she held him in. Because she now knew that in spite of his money, marriage to him had cost her the position in society that she had taken for granted from birth. She dreaded attending all these social functions that Hugh insisted they went to, not because of the sniggers of people about Hugh, but because they were also sniggering about her. She had lost people’s respect.

The butler came in. “A telegram for you, my lady.”

“Get me a vodka!” Hugh barked at the butler as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“I wish you wouldn’t speak to him like that,” said Emily. “It shows a lack of breeding when you don’t address staff correctly.”

Hugh looked at her and then he roared with laughter. “You’re not at Armstrong House now – you’re in my house – the house your family lost to the bank!”

Emily ignored him as she read the telegram. Her hand shot to her mouth.

“It’s Father, he’s not well. We have to go to Armstrong House immediately.”

Hugh flung the duck back on his plate. “I’m not going to Armstrong House. I’m not giving your mother the opportunity to look down her snobby nose at me again.”

“Did you not hear what I said? He could be dying,” Emily said, reinforcing her message.

“You’ll have to go on your own.”

“Right then, I will,” said Emily, rising from the table and walking out. She felt relieved that he didn’t want to go.