chapter 61

Present Day

The dining room had been refurnished with authentic antiques to replicate the era for the filming taking place there. Kate stood on the sidelines beside the director looking at the actors and actresses who sat around the table in Edwardian clothes.

Kate whispered to Brian. “I think Arabella wouldn’t be so exuberant. Studying her photos she seemed much more cool and aloof.”

Brian ignored her.

Kate whispered again. “And Charles would be much more charming. He never looked stern in his photos. That’s the whole point of Charles – he acted charming and cordial, but was ruthless beneath.”

“Kate!” snapped Brian.

“What?”

“Who’s directing this film?”

“You are but –”

“Then let me direct!”

Kate held up her hands and backed away from him.

Kate shut herself away in the library at Armstrong House as she continued to work through the stack of records there. She needed to find out who that car at the crime scene belonged to. She came across photos of what looked like an Edwardian garden party at the house. She studied the elegantly dressed people in the terraced garden, Armstrong House standing proudly in the background, and spotted Charles and Arabella amongst the people there. There were horse and carriages parked in the forecourt above the terraces belonging to the guests and parked off to the side she spotted a motor car. She took the magnifying glass she had been using on the photos and held the photo up to the light. Comparing it to the car in the crime-scene photo, she realised they could be the same.

As she looked at all the elegantly dressed Edwardians she said out loud, “One of you owns that car. One of you guests was somehow involved that night and led Charles to his assassin.”

She wondered how she could track down the owner of the car. Using the magnifying glass she couldn’t make out the vehicle’s registration number. As she researched the history of cars she realised registrations had started that very year – 1903. She decided to make contact with the Royal Irish Motor Automobile Club in Dublin and visit their archives.

“It was quite an exciting year for motor cars in Ireland in 1903,” said the guide. “The Gordon Bennet Race was held in Ireland that year. It had to be held in the United Kingdom as the UK had won it the previous year. Trouble was motor racing wasn’t legal in the UK, so the government passed a special act making it legal in Ireland only to honour the UK’s commitment, and the race was staged here.”

“I believe there was huge public concern over motor cars at the time,” said Kate.

“Oh yes, they were seen as dangerous playthings for the rich,” said the guide. “You’re researching for a film documentary?”

“That’s right, I’m trying to find out who owned a particular car that year and wondered if I could get any clue here,” said Kate.

“There were so few people owning cars, you might be able to find something. Most owners were members of the Royal Irish Automobile Club and it was a very exclusive club,” he said as he led Kate to the archives.

The guide looked at his watch.

“You’ve been very kind, thank you,” said Kate. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“Right, I’ll leave you to get on and hopefully find what you’re looking for,” smiled the guide as he headed off to his next appointment.

Kate spent the afternoon looking through Motoring Annuals and Yearbooks from the early 1900s. She was delighted when she found the Motoring Annual for 1903. She carefully looked through it and came to the list of members. As she scanned down the list of names she tried to see if any name jumped out at her that she might recognise as connected to the Armstrongs or with addresses near Armstrong House.

“Victoria Van Hoevan,” she said out loud as she recognised the surname.

She had known Nico was very distantly related to the famously rich American Van Hoevan family. As she continued to look through the Yearbook there were many photographs from the Gordon Bennett race that year. She stopped at one and stared at it. It was a photo of a man and a woman smiling happily, their arms around each other, leaning against a car at the race. Underneath, the caption read: Harrison Armstrong and his wife Victoria Van Hoevan Armstrong at the race, July 1903.

So Charles’ brother Harrison, who had given a statement in the police file and who had said he brought Charles to the hospital the night he was shot, was the relative married to the Van Hoevan who was the registered owner of a car.

She quickly opened her briefcase, took out the crime-scene photograph and compared it to the photo in the Yearbook.

“It’s the same car,” she said as she looked at the photos and saw the car registration plates were the same.

The man from the association approached her. “Any luck?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, I’ve found something very interesting, thank you. Could I get a photocopy of this item?”

The man went off to photocopy the photo from the races and Kate went to a computer he had given her permission to use. She went on to the 1901 census online and put in Harrison and Victoria’s name and found they were registered as living at Ocean’s End in Mayo.

“They were living only a few miles from Armstrong House and owned the car Charles was shot in,” said Kate aloud.

Book FOUR

1901–1903

chapter 62

Emily entered the house at Hanover Terrace and the butler closed the door behind her.

“Did you have a good day shopping, my lady?” he asked as she placed her parcels on the sideboard.

“Yes, thank you. Is Mr Fitzroy in?” she asked, taking off her coat and hat and handing them to him.

The butler looked uncomfortable. “He’s in the drawing room, my lady.”

She nodded and went to the stairs. As she walked up the stairs she steadied herself and then crossed the landing and went into the drawing room. She was immediately hit by a cloud of smoke. Hugh was stretched out on the couch smoking an opium pipe, the evening sky darkening outside the windows behind him.

“Oh, you’re back, are you?” he drawled, his head in a daze from the opium.

She stared at him in disgust. She turned quickly and left the room.

Arabella was deeply hurt by Charles’ betrayal with Marianne Radford, although she never confronted him on it or even mentioned her name again. Marianne and her unfortunate husband suddenly disappeared from their circle.

But Charles had crossed a line. Now she knew he’d had an affair and it illustrated what he thought of their marriage and of her. From now on every woman became a threat to Arabella. Charles had always flirted and enjoyed women’s attention and Arabella had never paid much heed to it. But now she suspected Charles’ flirting was not as innocent as she had thought. As Armstrong House continued to host a swirl of social occasions, Arabella found herself becoming suspicious of every woman Charles engaged with. No matter how tired she was she made sure not to go to bed until the last woman had left the house.

As Arabella scrutinised Charles’ behaviour from across crowded rooms, she saw that no woman got as much attention from him as Victoria. He swarmed around her like a bee around honey. Joking with her, laughing with her, having deep meaningful conversations with her. What’s more she seemed to get on marvellously with him. But then Victoria seemed to get on marvellously with everyone.

Charles came into the bedroom after waving the last of his guests off and found Arabella at her dressing table combing her hair.

He sat down on the bed and then lay out flat. “I have to say Harrison and Victoria were in great form tonight.”

“Aren’t they always? Wouldn’t we all if we had millions of dollars and not a care in the world?” she said.

He sat up and, leaning on one elbow, looked at her scornfully. “And what care in the world do you have?”

Mainly you, she thought bitterly but answered, “I’m a mother, I’ve this house to run –”

“Ha!” He burst out laughing. “Well, if you do, you make a very bad job of it.”

She turned to him furiously. “I beg your pardon! I’m constantly meeting the heads of staff here.”

“Meeting them, yes, and doing nothing with them.”

“You’re talking absolute nonsense, Charles!”

“Am I? Even poor little Prudence has started to take over your duties and directs the staff what to do, and she manages to do a better job of it than you!”

“Don’t I attend all your do’s and entertain your guests?” she defended herself.

“Oh yes, you attend all right, but you’re not exactly the life and soul of the party any more, are you? You don’t walk into a room and make heads turn like they used to when I met you first.”

“If they don’t turn it’s because years of marriage to you has changed me!”

“Everything seems to irritate you or annoy you. You take everything so seriously, except your duties as lady of this house. Why can’t you be more like Victoria?”

His words were like a slap across her face.

“I mean, Victoria takes everything in her stride. She runs her house like clockwork, and she’s not even from Ireland. She knows about business, runs her trust fund. She’s so educated and socially comfortable with herself –”

“Yes, Harrison deserves the best because he is a much better man than you!” Arabella retorted angrily.

Upstairs in the attic bedrooms Mrs Fennell was sitting at her desk, in her dressing gown, writing her diary.

“Come to bed, it’s nearly one in the morning,” said Mr Fennell, waking up and seeing her by the oil lamp. “Good gracious, what is that noise?”

“What do you think it is?” said Mrs Fennell. “Only them two rowing again and nearly lifting the roof off the house. They’ve got even worse since Lady Margaret left.”

Victoria and Harrison were walking down the main street of Castlewest. It was ten o’clock at night and they were dressed up in their finery.

“Remind me again why we are doing this?” asked Harrison, sighing.

“We’re doing it for your brother James. He has confided in me that he has some kind of a sweetheart that he feels none of us would accept. We’re going to go into this bar that she owns and be perfectly nice to her and him – hopefully he’ll be there – and let them know we don’t see anything wrong in their relationship,” confirmed Victoria confidently.

“But we do see something wrong in the relationship! We’ve already seen Emily make a disastrous match, and we don’t want James to go down the same road! It would kill poor Mother,” warned Harrison.

“Don’t worry – both James and Dolly –”

“Dolly!” Harrison exclaimed in horror.

“– and Dolly are far too level-headed to contemplate marriage – that’s what I got from the situation.”

As they reached Cassidy’s Bar, Harrison shook his head. “You know, I think Charles might be right for once – Father was too lenient on James. He did let him run too free. He doted on him a little too much.”

As they stepped into the bar, it was full of people drinking and being merry. Music was being played loudly and a fire blazed in the hearth.

“I can’t see him, perhaps he’s not here,” said Victoria, trying to see over the heads of the people.

“Oh he’s here all right,” sighed Harrison, spotting his brother in the corner and pointing over at him.

“Oh, so he is!” Victoria was delighted as she began to cut through the crowd, smiling. “Excuse me . . . thank you . . . excuse me, please . . .”

People stared at the bejewelled American and her well-tailored husband until they finally got to a wooden booth in the corner where James was sitting with a pretty woman of around thirty with big blue eyes and blonde shoulder-length hair.

“Harrison! Victoria! What are you doing here?” James was shocked at seeing them.

“We thought we’d come and join you – do you mind if we sit?” Victoria asked, smiling at the girl.

“Em, be my guests.” He was completely unnerved at seeing them.

“James,” nodded Harrison, sitting down, and then he nodded to the young woman politely.

The young woman had her arm around James’s neck and was looking at Harrison and Victoria in a bemused but unfriendly manner.

“And you must be Dolly?” said Victoria, stretching her hand across the table. “I’ve been hearing all about you.”

“Have you?” She looked sceptically at James and then cautiously shook Victoria’s hand before doing the same with Harrison.

“I’m –” began Harrison.

“I know who you are, I know who both of you are.” Dolly had a way of looking at people in a slightly mocking, slightly bemused way. “What do you want to drink?”

“A red wine, please,” said Victoria.

“Seán!” screeched Dolly over the music to the barman. “Bring over a red wine and a Guinness.”

“Right up, Dolly,” Seán shouted back.

“So what brings you in here?” asked James.

“We wanted to see where you spend time and meet your friends.” Victoria smiled at Dolly warmly.

“Well, you’ve seen it and you’ve met them,” said Dolly as Seán placed the stout and wine in front of them.

“How much is that?” asked Harrison, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s on the house,” said Dolly.

“Thank you!” said Victoria. “I believe you own the bar here.”

“Well, my parents do – I run it for them.”

“We’ve a lot in common,” smiled Victoria. “I helped run my father’s business as well.”

Dolly nodded to the diamonds and furs on Victoria. “Your father’s business obviously has better turnover than my father’s.”

Victoria started laughing. “Maybe, but your business looks like much more fun.”

“Your husband doesn’t look as if he shares your opinion,” Dolly said, smiling at Harrison’s uncomfortable facial expression.

Victoria kicked him under the table. “He just loves it! You know, I’ve heard so much about these quaint Irish pubs and been dying to come into one.”

“So we’re a circus now for Yanks, are we?” asked Dolly. “To be stared at by you for your own amusement?”

Victoria nodded to a group of men who were staring at her and laughing amongst themselves. “I think if anyone is the circus being stared at, it’s me!”

Dolly leaned across James and shouted at them. “What are ye staring at?”

The men quickly turned away.

“Sorry about that?” apologised Dolly. She looked down and saw Victoria’s glass was nearly finished already.

“Seán!” she shouted. “Another round of drinks!”

As the night wore on the drink flowed and everyone loosened up. Even Harrison looked as if he was enjoying himself, although he never let his guard down.

Victoria leaned across to Dolly. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Dolly, surprised that she had warmed to the millionairess wife of the local landlord’s brother.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” said Victoria as they got up to go. “I would love if you and James joined us for dinner some evening, at our home.”

Dolly looked at Victoria, surprised, before looking at James and saying, “We’ll look forward to that.”

Harrison put his arm around Victoria as they walked down to the motor car.

“What exactly are you hoping to achieve by this?” asked Harrison curiously. “James has always been different but I really don’t know what he could see in a woman like that.”

“Harrison!” chided Victoria. “You’re as bad as your mother! I thought Dolly was delightful. Spirited.”

“But, having her to the house for dinner? Really! As much as I love you, Victoria, sometimes I think you’ll never understand our ways.”

“Oh, I understand them all right, Harrison. I just choose not to lead my life by them.”

chapter 63

Charles had summoned the family solicitor Mr Brompton to Armstrong House from Castlewest and they sat in the library talking with James.

“The situation is quite clear, Mr Brompton. I gave a number of tenant farmers an adequate amount of time to pay their arrears and they have not done it.”

“Can’t do it! There’s a difference!” snapped James.

“So what are you suggesting is to be done?” asked Mr Brompton, who was a man in his sixties with round spectacles.

“I’ve given this considerable thought . . . and I want them gone,” said Charles definitely.

“Gone?” asked Mr Brompton.

“Evicted, off the land, out of their houses – gone!” stated Charles.

“I see!” Mr Brompton looked surprised. “The first thing then is to formally request they leave . . . if they then refuse to go –”

“Which they will!” said James.

“– the next step is to get a court order and evict them forcibly, which as James says, is the most probable result.”

Charles nodded. “Whatever course of action has to be taken.”

“Have you ever witnessed an eviction, Lord Armstrong?” asked Mr Brompton.

“Can’t say as I have.”

“I have. It’s a most pitiful sight. There’s usually some degree of force used by the constabulary. The tenant farmers usually fight back, resulting in violence.”

“I’m aware of all this.”

“I’m just trying to point out to you the severity of the course of action you appear to be taking. The law is of course on your side, and you’ll be working within the confines of that law. But the human cost of such an action is so great.”

“I’ve considered all that,” reaffirmed Charles.

“And you could be setting up a chain of events that who knows where it would lead to,” advised Mr Brompton.

“Hopefully it will lead to tenants paying on time in the future!” said Charles.

“Even if you get those farmers evicted, you won’t be able to re-let the land to someone else,” pointed out James. “No other farmer will go and take land that another farmer was evicted from. There’s huge solidarity there.”

“I don’t need another farmer to take the land. I’m going to knock down the hedges between the farms and create huge new fields, like the American prairies, and we’re going to go much more into cattle-rearing ourselves.”

“Most industrious!” said Mr Brompton, concerned by the whole proposal.

“This is the list of five farmers most in arrears who I want gone,” said Charles, handing over a sheet of paper to the solicitor.

“Very well. You appear to have made up your mind,” said Mr Brompton, tidying his paperwork into his case and standing up. “I will do the letters for the farmers informing them their tenancies are terminated and to vacate their houses and land immediately. Good day, Lord Armstrong and James.”

Mr Brompton nodded to them and left.

James shook his head in dismay. “I’m begging you not to go through with this, Charles. Father would never forgive you.”

“You heard what Brompton said, the law is behind me,” said Charles confidently.

“And who is going to hand these letters of tenancy termination to the farmers?” asked James.

“You are, of course!” said Charles.

James rode his horse into the Mulrooney farm. The door of the house was open.

“Hello?” shouted James, jumping down from his horse.

A few seconds later Jack and Maureen Mulrooney came out of the house.

“Ah, Master James, how are you today?” asked Jack warmly.

“Not the best, Jack,” said James.

“I’m sorry to hear that, what’s wrong?” asked Maureen.

James sighed loudly. “Have you managed to raise the arrears on the rent?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sure if we’re given just another few months we’ll get them calves better and we’ll be able to get the money then.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Jack,” said James, handing over the termination notice.

“What’s this?” said Maureen as Jack opened the envelope and read.

“You’re kicking us out?” Jack looked up abruptly, shocked.

“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, Jack,” said James.

“You’re sorry!” exclaimed Jack.

“This must be a joke. There’s never been an eviction on Armstrong land,” said Maureen.

“You’re not the only ones. There are another four families being asked to leave.”

“But – but where will we go – what will we do?” said Maureen.

Jack suddenly tore the notice in half and shouted, “I’ll tell you where we’ll be going – nowhere!”

Jack threw the torn notice back at James.

“Now, Jack –” appealed James.

“No! If that jumped-up fool thinks he can remove us from our home and our land, he’s got another think coming,” shouted Jack. “The Mulrooneys have paid for the value of this land over and over again with our rents this past century, and if you can’t help us out a little in hard times – well, fuck you!”

“So you won’t go peacefully?” asked James.

“We won’t go at all!” shouted Jack.

James nodded and, sighing, got back on his horse and rode away.

Later James handed all the five notices back to Charles in the library, all torn in half by the respective tenants.

Pierce was playing with a train set beside Charles’ desk.

“They’re furious, Charles. They absolutely refuse to go.”

“As expected,” said Charles. “Well, we have no option now but to go the legal route. I’ll inform Brompton.”

“Charles!” shouted James, giving Pierce a start. “Don’t do this! Please!”

“You know your problem, James? You don’t know where your priorities and your loyalties lie. Those people are nothing to us. They are merely peasants who are bad tenants.”

James turned and stormed out.

Pierce left his train set and came and sat on his father’s knee.

“Why’s Uncle James so mad, Papa?”

“Uncle James is a weak man, Pierce. One day you will be Lord Armstrong. Remember – never compromise. Never show weakness. Never show anyone weakness. In this life, you have to fight to the very end.”

“Yes, Papa.”

chapter 64

Arabella sat in the drawing room one evening, discreetly observing Victoria and Charles interact. Harrison, Victoria and Margaret were also present. As ever Charles was focusing on Victoria and they chatted and joked amicably.

“Charles, is this true what James tells me? That you’re evicting some tenants?” asked Harrison.

“I wish James wouldn’t go around blabbing about estate business,” said Charles.

“Well, he’s very concerned,” said Harrison. “Is it true?”

“Yes, it is,” said Charles. “I have to – they won’t leave on their own accord.”

“But those families –” started Harrison.

“I know! I know! Have been here since Noah’s ark! That’s the problem with this country, it lives in the past!”

“But you’re not going to forcibly remove them?” asked Harrison, shocked.

“I am, yes. I have to, the estate needs to run on a profit,” Charles defended himself.

“Charles, you can’t do it! You can’t put families out of their homes,” said Harrison.

“Why not? If they aren’t paying for them any more?”

“But –” began Harrison.

“As I understand it, and as James explained it to me,” said Victoria, “these people owe you money, Charles, and they can’t keep up their payments?”

“Exactly,” said Charles.

“I’m sorry, Harrison, but I’m with Charles on this,” said Victoria.

“What?” Harrison was shocked.

“I mean, my father owns office blocks all around New York –”

“Don’t we know!” said Arabella.

“And if the people who rent those offices can’t pay their rent, then of course they must go! You don’t stay in a place that you can’t afford and expect the landlord to subsidise you!”

“Thank you, Victoria!” said Charles, smiling appreciatively at her.

“It’s basic common sense and good business,” added Victoria.

“Victoria, there’s a huge difference between the corporations your father rents to and these poor unfortunate families that are trying to get by,” said Harrison angrily.

“I don’t see it that way,” said Victoria. “Business is business, and everyone has to turn a profit.”

“Spoken like a true American!” said Arabella as she sipped her wine.

Victoria glanced at Arabella before continuing. “Charles is making a very tough but obviously from his financial viewpoint necessary decision.”

“The Armstrong estate is not an American corporation, Victoria!” snapped Harrison angrily.

Victoria looked at Harrison evenly and spoke coolly. “I’m aware of that, Harrison. Please don’t speak to me as if I were a fool.”

“Trouble in paradise!” said Arabella under her breath.

“You know, Victoria, you’re a very informed woman, but as has become painfully clear since we moved here, you’re completely ignorant of the way things are done here in Ireland,” said Harrison.

“Oh, I’m aware how they’re done all right! I just don’t like the way they are done sometimes, that’s all I’m saying,” said Victoria.

“Well, nobody is forcing you to stay!” said Arabella.

“And I am entitled to my opinion,” said Victoria.

Harrison turned to Margaret. “Mother, have you nothing to say about all this?”

Margaret shrugged. “Charles is Lord Armstrong, and he must run things here as he sees fit. That’s the way it’s always been, and I’ll not undermine my son in his position in life, whatever my personal thoughts on the subject are.”

Harrison became even more angry. “You know, Mother, you’re always so by-the-book with doing things the right way. You always put family and tradition first. And you’re deciding to sit on the fence with this because you think that, as Lord Armstrong, Charles cannot be undermined. But, ask yourself, is that the moral way? Would Father approve of what’s going on?”

“Your father is no longer Lord Armstrong, Harrison, your brother is. We’ve no right to intervene or interfere.”

“Charles! Who’d ever have thought? You’ve nearly got a full room of approval for once in your life!” said Arabella.

Harrison turned to Arabella. “And as Lady Armstrong, have you not an opinion on what your husband is doing?”

“Oh, I’ve plenty of opinions about it, Harrison, but I won’t waste my breath expressing them – because it will do no good!”

Harrison looked around at them all. “You know something – you all make me sick!”

He stood up and stormed out.

“Harrison! Harrison!” Victoria called after him, getting up quickly.

“Oh let him go, Victoria!” urged Charles. “Harrison always likes to take the moral high ground with everything. Can be so boring actually!”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” said Victoria. “He doesn’t have any right to dictate to you how you run your business, Charles, in the same way as you have no right to dictate to him.”

“And Charles does so love to dictate!” said Arabella.

“Arabella! If you’ve nothing constructive to say why don’t you keep your mouth shut for once?” snapped Victoria. “All you do is sit on your pedestal dishing out derogatory remarks all the time.”

“Excuse me, Victoria! But I will not be spoken to like that in my house!” said Arabella.

“Why not? Somebody needs to knock some sense into you!” said Victoria.

Arabella saw red. “You sit there and –”

“Arabella!” snapped Charles. “Victoria is our guest, please remember that, and we will be courteous to her at all times.”

Arabella stared at him. “Oh, damn you, Charles!”

Arabella stood up and marched out of the room.

“Well, we’re doing well tonight!” said Margaret. “Two people storming out before I’ve even finished my pudding wine and we haven’t even evicted a tenant yet!”

“I’m so sorry, Charles,” said Victoria. “I shouldn’t have spoken to Arabella like that. I was just upset over arguing with Harrison and took it out on her. I’ll apologise tomorrow to her.”

“I shouldn’t bother, dear,” said Margaret looking at the empty bottle of wine by Arabella’s now empty chair. “I don’t think she’ll remember it anyway.” She stood up. “Well, after that eventful evening, I’ll be off home to Hunter’s Farm.” She bent forward and kissed Victoria. “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, Margaret,” smiled Victoria.

“Goodnight, Charles,” Margaret bent forward and kissed him and then looked at him sternly. “I do hope you know what you’re doing, Charles.”

“Of course I do, Mother,” confirmed Charles.

Margaret nodded and left the room.

Fennell came in with tea.

“Fennell, where’s Harrison?” asked Victoria.

“He left already in your motor car.”

“Oh dear! He must be really furious! I’ve a lot of grovelling to do!”

“He’ll be fine in the morning. If you want you can stay the night here?” offered Charles.

“No, I’d better get home at some stage tonight and try to build bridges with him,” she smiled and pulled a face.

“I’ll give you a lift home later,” Charles offered.

“Thanks, Charles,” she said.

Arabella was up in their bedroom that night when she heard laughter outside. She went to the window and saw Charles and Victoria walk across the forecourt. Victoria sat into Charles’ motor car. She listened, concerned, to Charles and Victoria dissolving in laughter over some shared joke as he started the motor car. She watched in dismay as they drove off together out of the forecourt and down the driveway.

Harrison came into the breakfast room at Ocean’s End, looking sheepish. He sat down and the maid poured him coffee and left the room.

Victoria looked at him curiously and coolly. “You left in an awful hurry last night.”

“I know. I was very angry.”

“Obviously, to leave me abandoned like that. Very ungallant of you!”

“Come on, Victoria. You hate if you’re not treated as independent all the time.”

“I know, but you took the bloody motor car with you! You didn’t leave me with much independence without transport!”

“I knew one of the stable boys would drive you back,” said Harrison.

“Charles was kind enough to drive me actually.”

“I’m sorry! But if I didn’t leave at that moment I would have said something I would regret.”

“To me?”

“Yes, and to Charles. What’s he doing, evicting tenants? It’s terrible!”

“I don’t want to go into all that again, Harrison. You made yourself perfectly clear how you felt last night.”

“As did you!”

Victoria was bemused. “I’m sorry, Harrison, but I’m not going to be one of these little wives who sits there nodding approvingly when her husband speaks, just because he’s her husband! You knew that when you married me. And I’m really annoyed you spoke to me like that in front of your family.”

“You’re annoyed! Imagine how I feel? Being contradicted so openly by you in front of them, in front of Charles!”

“Oh, I see!” Victoria sat back, nodding. “And now we get to the bottom of the matter. It’s because I sided with Charles you were so angry!”

“It really upset me, Victoria. You know what’s gone on between me and Charles in the past –”

“But I thought that was in the past! You two have been getting on so much better now.”

“We are . . . but last night it just all came flooding back. The way he can be. That ruthless streak where he doesn’t care about anybody else but himself and what he wants.” Harrison looked disgusted.

“Well, I’m sorry, Harrison, but I like Charles, and I’m not going to side against him just because you’re feeling insecure. And you really did have no right to challenge him about something that has nothing to do with you.”

Harrison sighed. “I don’t want us to fight over this. I don’t want it to be an issue between us.”

She got up and walked over to him and put her arms around him. “Then don’t make it one.”

He nodded, his face still troubled.

Charles parked his motor car outside Ocean’s End. He took the jewellery box on the seat beside him and went up the steps and rang the doorbell. A minute later the butler opened the door.

“Is Mrs Armstrong home?” he asked.

“Yes, your lordship. I’ll see if she’s available.”

“Is that Charles?” Victoria called from the parlour. “Come in, Charles!”

Charles walked into the parlour.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, bending down and kissing her.

“Tea?” she asked.

He nodded and sat down beside her as she took the teapot and poured him a cup.

She made a face at him as she handed over the teacup. “How’s everything at Armstrong House after the dinner party? Did things calm down between you and Arabella.”

“Things never calm down between me and Arabella. I was going to ask you how’s everything between you and Harrison?”

“Oh, we ironed it all out. We both overreacted. We row so seldom it took us by surprise.”

“Unlike me and Arabella – our arguments never take us by surprise,” he lamented.

Victoria smiled with sympathy as she stirred her tea with a silver spoon.

“I’ve just felt so bad since that night,” he said, looking concerned. “I’d hate to think I caused trouble between you and Harrison.”

“Oh Charles, don’t be silly! You didn’t come between me and Harrison. We just had a difference of opinion. If we differed over anything it was politics and our view of the world. Nothing to do with you.”

“Still, I was feeling guilty. And I’d like to thank you for sticking up for me when it seemed everyone was against me.”

“Oh, I always stick up for the underdog,” she smiled.

“I got you this just as a token of gratitude,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the jewellery box.

“What’s this?” she asked, taking the box and opening it. She looked at the necklace inside. “Charles! This is completely unnecessary!”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it!” She took out the necklace and marvelled at it. There was a note in the jewellery box and she opened it. It read: All my love, Charles. “That’s so sweet!” she said and leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “There was really no need.”

“There’s every need. You have brought happiness back into this family. You’ve given me my brother back. I never thought Harrison and I would ever meet again, let alone rebuild our friendship.”

“I did nothing really, but if I did bring some peace I did it for Harrison as much as anyone. He’s much more at peace now.”

chapter 65

Mr Brompton was very busy over the next couple of months arranging eviction orders through the courts for the five farmers at the Armstrong estate. Once the eviction orders were secured Charles gave permission for them to be enacted.

News of the pending evictions had spread through the estate, Castlewest and the county. People could not believe it and at first there was disbelief as opposed to anger.

The day was fixed for the evictions. The task of being present at them was imposed on James.

“You’ll be hated after this,” stated James.

“Just as well I never lived my life worried about being popular with them like you and Father did.”

James rode his horse into the yard of the Mulrooney farm. He was accompanied by four men from the estate and a number of policemen from Castlewest. Maureen Mulrooney was out in the yard feeding chickens when she saw them.

“Jack! Jack!” she started shouting.

Jack came to the door of the cottage.

“Quick, Maureen! Get into the house!”

Maureen rushed into the house and they slammed the door and bolted it.

James got down from his horse and exchanged a worried look with the policemen.

He went up to the door, knocked loudly and shouted, “Come on, Jack, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“Fuck off! Get off my farm!”

“Jack, I appeal to you. Don’t let this happen in front of your children.”

“It’s you that’s letting it happen in front of them!” shouted Jack as he turned and viewed Maureen who was sitting on the bed beside the fireplace holding their four children.

Outside a policeman stepped forward to the door. “Come on now, Mulrooney, I’ve a notice of eviction here. Let’s not have any trouble.”

“Fuck off!”

News of the police travelling through the estate to the Mulrooney farm had spread quickly and a large number of neighbouring farmers and their womenfolk came rushing down the laneway and gathered around the house.

“Get on home!” shouted the policeman. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“It’s everything to do with us! You can’t throw them out!” shouted a man and the crowd started shouting angrily.

The policeman went up to James. “Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. The longer it goes on, the more chance there is of trouble.”

James nodded.

The policeman went and talked to his men. The men got to work and hoisted three poles into a pyramid in front of the front door. They then hung a battering ram from the apex of the pyramid by rope. This allowed them to swing the battering ram right back and let it go with its full force to slam into the wooden front door.

“Don’t let them do it, James!” screamed a woman and the whole crowd started shouting and whistling loudly.

“On the count of three,” said the policeman as his men pulled the battering ram as far back as they could.

“One, two and three!” shouted the policeman.

The battering ram was let go and it slammed into the door of the cottage.

“And again!” shouted the policeman and his men swung the ram back into the door. They kept doing it until the door burst open.

The policemen stormed into the cottage. James walked in after them.

James had tears in his eyes as the policemen confronted Jack.

“You’ve two minutes to leave this house,” said the policeman.

“I’ll not leave!” he responded.

The policeman grabbed the man and started marching him to the door.

Mulrooney fought back and suddenly a fight started.

“Jack!” screamed Maureen as she rushed to her husband’s assistance and started attacking a policeman.

The children started screaming and crying as both their parents were overpowered and dragged from their home.

As Jack and Maureen were pulled out into the yard the crowd erupted in screaming and shouting and piercing whistles. The Mulrooney children came rushing out after their parents.

Jack Mulrooney made a valiant attempt to re-enter the property but was quickly overpowered.

“Bastards!” shouted a woman from the crowd.

The policemen quickly went into the house and started removing all the furniture and loading it up on the Mulrooneys’ cart outside. Maureen sat on the ground outside crying loudly as she was comforted by her neighbours. Once the cottage was emptied, the police used the battering ram to knock down the gables of the cottage, and the thatched roof fell in.

In the distance, Charles sat on his horse looking at the spectacle. He saw the angry crowd and the cottage being destroyed. He watched as the Mulrooney family were then led away from the property with their horse and cart which contained everything they possessed in the world to the edge of the estate and were left there on the side of the road. Charles turned and set off back to Armstrong House, not waiting to see the episode repeated at the other four farms being evicted that day.

chapter 66

Arabella sat at the table having breakfast, looking at the front page of the county newspaper which had a headline ‘Five Families Evicted from the Armstrong Estate Last Week’.

She looked at the black-and-white photograph accompanying the article of the Mulrooney cottage after it had been destroyed and policemen standing around it.

As she read the article she was alarmed. She had never paid any attention to what happened on the estate. She could barely keep on top of the running of the house, let alone what happened outside its walls. Being from Dublin, she never really understood a country estate’s running. But as she looked at the photograph and read the article she became anxious.

Charles came into the dining room in cheery form.

“I see you’ve made the front page,” she said, tossing the paper over to him.

He took the paper as he sat down and quickly scanned it before folding it over and starting his breakfast.

“What is going on, Charles?” she demanded.

“You know what’s going on. We evicted some tenants in serious arrears.”

“But I didn’t realise it would be like this!”

He looked at her in a bored fashion.

“Charles! Only you could be responsible for kicking off the next phase of the Land War!”

“Well, something has to be run around here efficiently, Arabella. Let’s face it, if it wasn’t for Fennell and his wife, this house would be in chaos by now left to you.”

“Charles, that has nothing to do with these evictions!”

“It’s everything to do with them, Arabella. Because you could never understand the workings of an estate like this – you’re hopelessly inadequate to do so. You’re hopelessly inadequate for the role of Lady Armstrong, full stop. Because of a twist of fate, you ended up as Lady Armstrong, a role that you’re not able or suitable for.”

“And by a twist of fate being born the first son you ended up being Lord Armstrong! A role that everyone says you’re not suited to!” she retaliated.

“Well then! What a compatible couple we make! Now can I have breakfast in peace, please?”

A meeting was called at the McGrath farm in the aftermath of the evictions. The house was packed with tenant farmers from the estate. There were so many there the whole yard and field outside was jammed with people as they strained to hear what Joe McGrath said.

“As you all bitterly know, five farmers and their families were evicted from this estate,” he shouted. “Five farmers who we knew as friends and neighbours . . . most of us were related in some way to one or more of those families.”

There was a chorus of disapproval from the crowd.

“Five farmers and their families who had the misfortune to fall behind on their rents, as many of us have over the decades due to circumstances outside our control,” continued Joe McGrath. “In the past we always made up for back rent once we could. We understood that as being the way here. But there’s a new lord up at the Armstrong House. A new lord who doesn’t care about the good working relationship that was always here. And now he just shoved those famers off the land and threw them on the side of the road like rubbish. Things have changed on this estate and we have to act to protect ourselves!”

The crowd erupted with shouts of approval.

“Because, today it’s the Mulrooneys and the others being evicted – but tomorrow it will be you!”

There were screams of protests from the crowd.

“Lord Charles puts children out on the streets while he and his snobby wife hold posh cocktail and dinner parties up in their mansion. A mansion that you pay for with the sweat of your work!”

“Fuck them!” screamed a woman from the crowd.

“I call for a rent strike immediately. I call on all tenants on this farm to stop paying rent from today until those farmers are given back their homes and land!”

The people erupted in screams and shouts of approval.

Arabella was in the drawing room writing a letter when Fennell came in.

“Pardon me, my lady, one of the footmen wishes to see you.”

Arabella looked up from her notepaper. “Oh, Fennell, can’t you deal with him? I really have too much on today to deal with staff problems.”

And every day, thought Fennell.

“No, my lady, I’m afraid it’s of a serious nature.”

Arabella sighed. “Very well, show him in. Will you remain while he’s here?”

“Of course, my lady,” said Fennell as he opened the door and showed the young man in.

“Sorry to bother you, my lady, but I have to leave your service today,” said the footman whose name was Anthony.

“That’s very short notice, Anthony. Why can’t you give a month’s notice as expected?”

Anthony looked uncomfortably at Fennell. “Because my daddy said I’m not to stay here any longer on account of those evictions, and I’m to return home to Castlewest without delay.”

“Oh, I see,” said Arabella, taken aback. “And do you always do what your daddy tells you?”

“Yes, my lady,” said Anthony.

“I see. In that case, we’ll be sorry to lose you,” said Arabella.

Anthony nodded and left the room quickly with Fennell.

As Arabella looked out the window she muttered “Oh, Charles, what have you started?”

Charles was looking through the rent books in the library and he looked up abruptly at James.

“What’s going on? All these rent books are blank for this month!”

“Charles, they’ve called a rent strike. They refuse to pay any more rents until you meet with them and you agree to their demands,” said James.

Charles sat back in horror. “But they can’t do that! It’s blackmail!”

“There’s not one farmer on the estate willing to break the strike.”

“But – it’s against the law!”

“They’re holding together as a union. They won’t pay,” said James.

Charles got up and started pacing angrily. “Who do they think they are?”

“Meet with them, Charles, negotiate with them,” urged James.

“I most certainly will not! They’ll regret the day they took this course of action. They might have been able to bully and intimidate every other landlord in this country, but they won’t do it with me! Tell Brompton to come to me immediately. I’m going to serve evictions on another five farmers straight away. And I’ll keep evicting five farmers every month until order is brought back on to this estate. They want a Land War? I’ll give them a bloody Land War!”

The second set of evictions took place the following month as Charles intended. The following morning one of the gamekeepers reported an incident in the western part of the estate and Charles and James made their way there. There were fields of wheat in that part of the estate and when they arrived there they found the crops had been destroyed. The wheat had been trampled on and it looked like somebody had trampled horses through all the fields.

Charles stood there staring at the annihilated crops.

“Who did this?” he demanded, consumed with anger.

“Don’t know, sir. One of my men spotted it this morning and reported it,” said the gamekeeper.

“It’s obviously in retaliation for the evictions,” said James.

“Get me the police!” demanded Charles.

“I’ve made extensive enquiries, and I’m afraid nobody saw anything,” said the policeman to Charles later in the library.

“You can’t do that kind of damage without people noticing who did it!” objected Charles.

“Well, if anyone saw anything, they aren’t telling me, your lordship,” said the policeman.

“I see!” said Charles, furious. “They think I’ll back off over a few fields of crops destroyed, do they?”

“I do think they are trying to give you a clear message, Lord Armstrong,” the policeman pointed out.

“It’s unbelievable that people can get away with this kind of behaviour.” Charles’ anger was not subsiding.

“Without any evidence or co-operation from the people living nearby, there’s nothing I can do,” said the policeman.

“It was probably the people who lived nearby who caused the damage!” shouted Charles.

“It’s not wise to speculate in these circumstances, sir. All you’ll do is inflame further anger,” said the policeman.

“Inflame! How much more inflammatory can the situation get? I’ve got hundreds of rents outstanding, I’ve got crops wantonly destroyed!”

“Regarding the next set of evictions, would you like to postpone them?”

“Certainly not! I want them done even more now,” confirmed Charles.

“Very well, your lordship. Good day to you,” said the policeman as he left.

chapter 67

Charles was having a cocktail party in the drawing room. Harrison and Victoria were there along with the Foxes and other close friends.

“Fields and fields of crops destroyed, for no reason, other than spite,” said Charles as everyone sat around listening.

“And they’re not paying their rents either?” checked Harrison.

“Not one of them!”

“So what are you going to do, Charles? Evict every last one of them?” asked Arabella pointedly.

“If I have to – yes!” said Charles.

Mrs Foxe leaned over, concerned. “You have to be very careful, Charles. I mean, we had our own troubles with our tenants a few years ago. You can’t underestimate them. They are very intelligent, and they know how to organise themselves.”

“Very intelligent! Pooh!” dismissed Charles.

“They are, Charles,” said Harrison. “Just because they didn’t go to our schools or universities doesn’t make them unintelligent.”

“Well, I think the whole thing is disgusting,” said Victoria. “The idea that they would engage in this kind of criminal activity. I mean it’s bad enough they are on this rent strike – we know all about unions and strikes in America, I can assure you. But to destroy property like that! I think it’s awful.”

Arabella raised her eyes to heaven as she drank her cocktail. “Oh, shut up, Victoria! This isn’t a moral debating club in Newport, or wherever you come from – this is the west of Ireland!”

The drawing room hushed as everyone felt embarrassed by Arabella’s outburst.

Victoria turned to Harrison. “Maybe we should be going. I think somebody has had too much to drink, and I really don’t want an argument with a drunk, thank you very much.”

“I am not drunk! You condescending little know-it-all!”

“Enough everybody!” demanded Charles. “Please! This is supposed to be a night of enjoyment. I don’t want the agitation on the estate finding its way into my drawing room, if you please!”

Arabella sat back, glaring angrily at Victoria.

“Fennell, fill everyone’s glasses, please – except Lady Armstrong’s,” said Charles, and Fennell went around filling the glasses.

Arabella’s angry glare switched from Victoria to Charles.

“Did you hear about that new play at the Gaiety?” asked Mrs Foxe and everyone started chatting about that topic.

“Fennell, put some more turf on the fire,” said Charles.

Fennell went over to the brass turf box and scooped turf and wood onto the fire until it started blazing. Suddenly thick black smoke started to pour out of the fireplace.

“What the . . ?” demanded Charles as he saw the thick smoke billow around the room.

“Quickly, open the windows!” said Victoria as the room became engulfed in smoke.

“It’s too late for that,” said Charles, almost choking. “Everyone out!”

Everyone raced to the door and opened it, only to find there was thick black smoke billowing from the fireplace in the hall as well.

Charles quickly ran back into the room and to the French windows which he opened. “Everyone out!”

Everyone ran out the French windows onto the patio and started gasping and choking in the night air.

“It would seem that your turf was covered in some kind of chemical,” said the policeman the next day, “causing this smoke reaction.”

“How did they do it?” demanded Charles.

“I imagine they just walked into your stables where you keep your turf and wood and they poured the chemicals all over it. I take it you don’t keep those stables locked?”

“No. What a despicable thing to do!”

“I strongly advise you to destroy all your wood and turf supply – it’s probably all contaminated with this chemical.”

“And there’s nothing you can do again?” snapped Charles.

“I’ve spoken to your staff and they said they saw nobody unusual around the back stables. They probably came at night and did the interfering when everyone was asleep.”

Arabella walked down the corridor upstairs. It was after ten in the evening and she was calling in to the children to say goodnight. She stopped as she heard a curious howling coming from outside. The howling was relentless and sounded like wolves. She had never heard a sound like it in all her time at Armstrong House and it unnerved her.

She walked into Pierce’s bedroom.

“Mama, why are the wolves howling?” asked Pierce, sitting up in bed.

“They’re not wolves, silly,” said Prudence, walking into the bedroom in her dressing gown from her own room next door. “There haven’t been wolves in Ireland since the great forests were cut down centuries ago.”

“Well, what are they then?” asked Pierce anxiously.

“They’re the tenant farmers, of course, making those noises to scare us,” said Prudence who didn’t seem too concerned by her own revelation.

“Prudence!” warned Arabella.

“I’m just saying!” Prudence defended herself.

“That’s nonsense, Prudence, and you shouldn’t say such things,” admonished Arabella.

“It’s the truth, I tell you! I heard Mrs Fennell say it to the terrified kitchen staff,” stated Prudence.

“Prudence, I’ve told you before to stay out of the kitchens!”

“Why? Somebody has to check they are doing their work properly,” Prudence said in a matter-of-fact way.

Arabella felt a pang of shame at her daughter’s comment, even though Prudence wasn’t being intentionally nasty in commenting on Arabella’s shortcomings as Lady Armstrong.

“Anyway, whatever is making the sounds, you’re quite safe here. Nothing or nobody can get into the house,” Arabella assured Pierce as she kissed him goodnight.

Arabella was getting ready one morning in their bedroom when she heard a scream from downstairs. Panicked she hurried from the bedroom, along the corridor and down the staircase.

“What is it?” she demanded of the parlour maid who was standing at the open front door, looking terrified.

“Look!” cried the girl, pointing to a dead crow on the doorstep outside.

Fennell and Prudence arrived together.

“For pity’s sake, girl! It’s only a dead bird!” Arabella said angrily. “It flew into the door.”

“A crow might fly into a window, but never a door, my lady! It’s been left there as a warning.” The girl seemed terrified.

“Don’t be so ridiculous!” snapped Arabella.

Prudence bent down and inspected the bird. “No, she’s probably right, Mama. Its neck has been broken.”

“Prudence!”

“I’m just saying!” Prudence said.

“Fennell, get rid of the revolting thing,” ordered Arabella before turning to the maid. “And you return to your duties at once, without any further unnecessary silliness.”

The girl rushed off.

“The staff are a bit unnerved with everything that’s been going, on, Lady Armstrong,” said Fennell.

“I will not have the house disrupted by such hysterics, Fennell,” ordered Arabella.

“Very good, my lady. I’ll have the crow removed at once.”

Prudence held Arabella’s hand as they walked back upstairs.

“She’s quite right, of course, Mama. The crow probably was left there as a warning to us.”

“Don’t you start! And do not tell Pierce about it. I don’t want him any more upset than he already is,” said Arabella as she reached the top of the stairs.

“Yes, Mama,” agreed Prudence.

Leaving her daughter in the corridor, Arabella went to her room. Once she got there she sat down on the bed and started to shake.

The incidents continued as did the evictions. One of the footmen was beaten up in Castlewest one night when he was leaving a pub. A carriage had one of its wheels tampered with, resulting in it coming off while travelling through the estate, injuring the groomsman driving it. Arabella was walking through the gardens one day and she saw the prized flowerbeds had been uprooted and destroyed. Charles went on as if nothing was happening. He continued organising social occasions at the house. But Arabella noticed whereas before their invitations were eagerly sought after, people were now politely declining, frightened of becoming embroiled in the conflict at Armstrong House.

Arabella was walking quickly through the hall with Fennell. She tried the front door and found it unlocked.

“Fennell! Why is this door unlocked?” she demanded.

“We never lock the front door at Armstrong House, my lady, only at night.”

“Well, we will in future! I want this door locked and all the doors kept locked throughout the house.”

They went into the small parlour.

“Fennell!” she nearly shouted when she saw a window open. “What’s that window doing open?”

“I presume a maid left it open to air the room.”

Arabella walked across the room and slammed the window shut.

“Not in future! I want all the downstairs windows closed and secured at all times, am I making myself clear?”

“As you wish, my lady,” nodded Fennell and he backed out of the room.

Arabella waited till he was gone and then raced to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a strong gin.

Emily sat at one end of the table in the dining room at Hanover Terrace while Hugh sat at the other. They ate in silence.

She suddenly put down her fork and glared at him.

“What’s your problem?” he asked.

“Your table manners are disgusting!” she declared with a look of revulsion on her face.

He glared at her before throwing his own fork down on his plate with a clatter, giving her a start.

“Oh, are they?” he said, his voice thick with anger and sarcasm. “Are my table manners really disgusting?”

“Yes, they are. You manage to eat properly when we are with your friends, and I expect the same level of respect.”

“Respect? What do you know about respect? You sit there, like the queen of England, thinking you’re better than me.”

“Well, if the cap fits!”

“I’m sorry if I don’t eat like the fine people you were brought up with in Armstrong House.”

“You can try to eat like a civilised person!”

“If I’m so uncivilised why did you marry me?”

“I’ve asked myself that many, many times. I can only put it down to a moment of madness.”

Hugh picked up his food and continued to slobber over it.

“If you can’t eat properly I refuse to eat with you.” She stood up and walked towards the door.

Hugh stood up and walked after her.

“Who do you think you are?” he demanded.

“I know who I am! I’m Lady Emily Armstrong. It’s you who are pretending you’re something you’re not all the time. Throwing your money around, thinking it will make you accepted when everyone laughs at you and calls you names!”

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

“I will not be spoken to like that!”

“I’ll speak to you any way I want, because you’re my wife. A fact you seem to have forgotten lately.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten it! How could I possibly forget it, when I’m stuck here under the same roof as you and your disgusting habits and manners.”

“What did you say?” He eyes bored into her angrily.

“Disgusting! You disgust me!” she shouted at him.

Suddenly his arm rose into the air and he hit her with the full force of the back of his hand. The force of the blow sent her flying across the room and laid her out on the floor.

She managed to sit up and held her hand to where he had struck her. He stood there, glaring angrily at her.

She struggled to her feet and stared at him. Then she raced across the dining room and out the door. She headed towards the stairs and she didn’t stop running until she was in the safety of her room and had locked the door behind her.

chapter 68

In the House of Commons an MP was giving a speech on the new Wyndham Act that had just been passed.

“With this Act, which applies only to Ireland and not the rest of the United Kingdom, the British government is making available funds that will be loaned to Irish tenant farmers in order for them to buy their holdings from their landlords if both parties so wish. It will provide landlords who are agreeable to sell with the price they demand and provide the farmers with the finance to buy and secure the land they work. The agrarian strife that has blighted Ireland has been a huge concern to the governments of this country for many decades. While we may think that the worst of this Land War ended in the last decade, I have heard only recently of the turmoil on the Armstrong estate in the west of Ireland which demonstrates the situation remains volatile and ready to erupt at any time. It is sincerely hoped that this Act will at last provide the mechanism to allow peace throughout the countryside of Ireland.”

The MP sat down as members of the house cheered in support.

“Charles,” demanded Arabella after reading an article on the evictions on the estate in the local paper, “this cannot continue! What are you going to do to stop this disaster you have unleashed?”

“I’m not going to do anything! I will continue with the course of action I have started. I assure you they’ll give in.”

“You can assure me? You can’t assure me of anything! You’ve never been able to assure me of anything since the day I met you! You stumble from disaster to disaster, never thinking of the consequences, always thinking you know best.”

“And what do you do? You sit here in this house, looking out at the world scared!”

“If I’m scared of the world, it’s because it has become a scary place because of you!”

“You’ve never been a good wife to me. Never! You’ve never supported me or my actions.”

“You never tell me what you’re up to or what actions you take until it’s too late!”

“That’s because I’d never get anything done if I told you anything. All you’d ever say is ‘No, don’t do it!’”

“Yes, because everything you touch turns to poison! The children are scared –”

“Prudence isn’t scared,” he said proudly.

“But Pierce is,” she said.

“If he is scared it’s because you have made him so, with your fragile nerves! Besides, Pierce is now thirteen. He’s going to be going away to boarding school soon.”

Arabella knew Pierce was due for school, but she dreaded the thought of losing him and only having him home during the holidays.

“So, you will do nothing to try and get a resolution with the tenants?” she asked.

“I will not be broken!” he confirmed. “Even if you are.”

“And how you wish you were married to somebody like Victoria!” she said. “Go on, say it, you’re thinking it!”

“Yes, I wish I was married to somebody like her!” he shouted at her.

“And I wish I was married to somebody like Harrison! The difference is Victoria would never even have looked at you, but Harrison was in love with me, and I threw it away because of you!”

chapter 69

Emily stepped out of the carriage, looked up at Armstrong House and felt an enormous feeling of relief to be back. She walked up the steps and went to try the door but it was locked. Unusual, she thought, as she knocked at the door.

“Ah, Lady Emily – welcome home,” said Fennell.

Emily had written the previous week saying she would be back.

“It is good to be home, Fennell,” she said as she entered the comfort of her home.

She saw Charles walking down the stairs.

“If it isn’t my favourite sister!” said Charles on seeing her.

Emily raced to him and collapsed in his arms. “Oh Charles!” she said as she suddenly started to cry.

A family summit was called in the drawing room at Armstrong House that evening with Margaret, Harrison and Victoria joining Charles and Arabella.

Emily sat on a couch, pale and thin. “I’m not going back!” she declared. “I’m never going back to him.”

“And what do you propose to do?” questioned Margaret, her face a mask of concern.

“I don’t know. Divorce him, I suppose.”

“Divorce!” exclaimed Margaret, dismayed. “On what grounds?”

“Extreme mental and physical cruelty – do you want the details?” Emily challenged her mother.

“No – no, I’d rather not hear them,” said Margaret. “This family has never had the scandal of a divorce and you can’t drag us through the divorce courts.”

“All that can be decided later,” said Victoria. “The main thing is that Emily knows she’s safe and we support her.”

Margaret sighed loudly. “Well, I suppose we were all preparing for this day eventually. It was a disaster waiting to explode with a man like that. Everyone warned you what you were marrying.”

“Everyone except Charles,” said Arabella, giving him a cynical stare.

“Does he know you’ve left him?” asked Charles.

“I just left a letter for him. I couldn’t take it any more,” said Emily.

“You did the right thing,” said Victoria. “And what are your immediate plans?”

“I don’t know. My immediate plans were just to get away from him.”

“Well, you must stay here at Armstrong House for as long as you want,” offered Charles.

Emily smiled gratefully at him.

“If you can put up with everything that has been going on here,” said Arabella.

“Yes, I’m hearing awful stories about the estate,” said Emily.

Victoria said, “Why don’t you come and stay with me and Harrison? It’ll be much quieter –”

“And safer!” interrupted Arabella.

“– than Armstrong House,” concluded Victoria.

“Victoria to the rescue again!” said Arabella.

“You’re all very kind,” said Emily, looking at them appreciatively. “But what I really just want now is my mother.” Emily looked over imploringly at Margaret.

Margaret smiled at her. “Of course you must come and be with me at Hunter’s Farm. I know what’s best for you, I always have.”

Margaret held out her arms and Emily rushed across the room and enveloped her mother in a hug.

chapter 70

Charles was walking down the beach with Victoria as the waves lapped against the sand. He had been explaining how some of the animals been maimed on the estate in a new upscale of the Land War.

“Oh what a brutal thing to do! I can scarcely believe it!” Victoria was shocked.

“It was an awful sight to witness.”

“I can only imagine. How did Arabella take it?”

“How does Arabella take anything? Collapsed in a bundle of nerves and hit the gin bottle,” said Charles.

“Oh dear!”

“I hope you don’t mind me coming over and unloading all this on you all the time?”

“Of course not!”

“It’s just that sometimes I feel you’re the only person I can talk to, Victoria.”

“I know from my father dealing with unions how these things become so intense.”

“I feel trapped! I can’t give in and yet I can’t see how to solve it either.”

“Maybe if you talk to the farmers – reason with them.”

He looked so worried, she reached forward and hugged him tightly. He held her close.

Harrison walked into Ocean’s End after returning from Dublin on business. He picked up the post and quickly looked through it.

“Did you have a good journey, sir?” asked the butler, coming and taking his suitcase.

“Yes, fine thanks. Where’s my wife?”

“Mrs Armstrong went for a walk with Lord Charles, sir. They’ve been gone a while.”

“I see,” said Harrison and he walked into the parlour and left the post on a sideboard. He walked to the back of the room and looked out.

Victoria and Charles were coming up the steps from the beach, laughing. Harrison watched as Charles held out his hand and assisted her up the last steps. They walked through the garden, stopping occasionally to examine a plant or a tree and then made their way to the French window.

Harrison quickly made his way to the other side of the room. Victoria opened the French window as she was speaking to Charles.

“So the next thing the parlour maid said was,” Victoria suddenly adopted an Irish accent, “‘Ah, begorrah, sure you’ll never roast them spuds and them still sitting in the larder!”

Charles and she laughed loudly as he closed the door behind them.

“Harrison!” said Victoria, seeing him. “You’re back early!” She went to him and kissed him.

“Yes, I caught an earlier train.”

“Good. Will you be joining us for dinner, Charles?”

“I’m afraid not, but thank you for the invitation. I have to attend to estate business,” said Charles.

He kissed Victoria on the cheek and clapped Harrison on the back.

“See you soon!” he said as he left.

“Attend to estate business? Destroy the estate’s business, I think he means,” said Harrison, sitting down after pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, give the man a break, Harrison,” pleaded Victoria. “He feels the whole world is against him.”

“That’s because the whole world is against him after his ridiculous antics.”

“I don’t care what anyone says. There’s no excuse for the treatment he and his family have been meted. Maiming animals, violating property!”

“Oh, wake up and see what’s going on, Victoria!” Harrison became angry. “He’s destroyed centuries of hard work and goodwill in a matter of months.”

“He knows he should have handled things differently, he told me so. The trouble is, what does he do about it now?”

“You’ve become quite the confidante to him, haven’t you?” Harrison looked at her cynically.

“I’d like to think I’ve won the trust of all your family.”

Harrison looked pensive.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, going and sitting beside him.

“Victoria, I’ve been thinking lately . . . I think we should go back to the States.”

“Back to the States!” Victoria was astonished. “But why? We love living here.”

“We never planned to live here permanently. It was only ever temporary. We’ve been here far longer than I ever envisaged, Victoria.”

“But we can’t run out on your family in their time of need, Harrison. They need our support with all this trouble going on.”

“It’s exactly because of this trouble I think we should go back to America. I don’t like living here any more with all this going on. We are Armstrongs too and because of Charles’ actions we are being tarred with the same brush.”

“But you have been getting on so much better with him,” she said.

“Yes, our bridges are mended, and that is a wonderful thing. But his actions over the past months have made me realise that he has never changed. He is still the greedy self-centred man he always was, who will ruthlessly railroad over anybody to get what he wants.”

“I see,” said Victoria. “I didn’t realise how strongly you felt.”

“I do! And I fear if I stay here and continue to witness his behaviour, I will end up hating him again.”

“Well, that would be a disaster. But what about the rest of your family – James and your mother? And Emily, now that she’s back. Don’t they need us too?”

“They are all adults capable of looking after themselves, without the need for us to hold their hands. Besides, Mother has always been incredibly pragmatic. She wouldn’t want to stop us from getting on with our lives.”

“Well, this has all taken me by surprise,” she said, looking despondent.

“And, don’t you think it’s time we started our own family?”

“We’re both still young. I thought we decided there was no rush and we could just enjoy married life for a while?”

“I know, but not such a long while! I think it’s time we started a family. And I don’t want to bring up our children here, not with all this festering resentment towards the Armstrongs.”

“I’d certainly miss everyone and everything here. I do love it so,” she said, looking sad. She looked at his face. Harrison would only say something like that if he had given it considerable thought and decided what he really wanted. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll go back to the States.”

He reached forward and held her tightly.

chapter 71

Pierce was to start school and there was great preparation readying him for going.

Arabella had thought he would be reluctant to go away to boarding school in England, but he seemed to be looking forward to it. She imagined all the agitation on the estate had made going away seem more attractive to him.

Arabella was making the journey over to England with him and the morning they were setting off was a flurry of activity.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, Prudence?” asked Arabella.

“No, I’ll stay here and mind Papa,” said Prudence happily.

Charles bent down and hugged Pierce in the forecourt. “Always remember everything I taught you,” said Charles.

“And remember everything I’ve taught you!” said Arabella, concerned that her son would ever use Charles as his model in life.

Pierce got into the back of the carriage and Arabella kissed Prudence.

“I’ll see you in a week,” she said before turning to Charles.

They looked at each other.

“Look after yourself,” said Arabella, leaning forward and kissing him quickly before getting into the carriage.

Prudence and Charles waved as the carriage set off down the driveway, then walked back into the house with their arms around each other.

“I suppose I will be lonely now he’s gone,” said Prudence. “But I still have you and Mama, and grandmother and everyone else.”

“There’s a good girl. Now you run along, I’ve some important work to do,” said Charles as he headed into the library.

He did have important work to do. He was expecting a visit from Edgar Joyce, their bank manager from Dublin. Mr Joyce had been wanting to meet Charles for some considerable time. Charles had been putting it off but now, with Arabella out of the way, it was an ideal opportunity.

Edgar Joyce was shown into the library by Fennell.

“How is the situation down here on your estate, Lord Armstrong?” asked Joyce, sitting down opposite him across the desk.

“We have everything under control,” Charles assured him.

“That’s not what I’ve been hearing, unfortunately. Lord Armstrong, I’ve been sent down here to meet with you by the board of trustees at the bank due to the concern over your ever-deteriorating finances.”

“I see.”

“I don’t know if you are aware just how bad your situation has become. The estate has been literally months and months without any payments from your tenants, resulting in no cash flow and large overdrafts.”

Charles felt himself become annoyed.

“I think, Mr Joyce, the fact that the Armstrong estate stretches to eight thousand acres means I am not on my uppers, just yet!”

“No, but if this Land War you’re involved in continues much longer you will be! Quite simply, you are dependent on your tenants’ rents and to begin this – war – with them was a huge act of folly on your part.”

“I didn’t start it! They did by not paying their rents on time!” snapped Charles.

“Whoever started it, the problem now, Lord Armstrong, is nobody seems to be in a position to end it, tensions are running so high.”

“The problem is, Mr Joyce, that neither you nor the board of trustees have any idea of the magnitude of running an estate like this,” Charles defended himself.

“I quite agree! I don’t, they don’t, but unfortunately the situation appears to be that you don’t either! You are aware of the new Wyndham Land Act passed by parliament?”

“I am, of course.”

“Many of our gentry clients around the country are choosing to avail of it. They are selling their estates for the amount they want to their tenants by the funds being made available by the government. It’s a very good deal for landlords, better than anyone ever expected. Quite simply they are sick and tired of all this agrarian trouble and dealing with the locals, and opting to take the money and run. We consider you an ideal candidate for this opportunity.”

“Sell my estate! Have you any idea how long this land has been in my family?” Charles was aghast.

Joyce looked bored. “I can hazard a guess, because I’ve lamentably heard the history of many estates around the country from clients who I have urged to sell!”

“And deprive my wonderful son of what one day will rightly be his?” Charles was furious.

“Put quite simply, Lord Armstrong, if you continue the way you are, all you’ll be leaving your – wonderful – son is a title and a mountain of debt! You obviously should keep the house here and a couple of hundred acres around the house to secure your prestige, past heritage and a small but secure future income. Although I would advise you to curtail your lifestyle considerably. This Land War you’ve engaged in has severely weakened your family’s finances, and your own spending habits since you became Lord Armstrong would make a Bourbon king blush.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not a Vanderbilt or a Van Hoevan – you are a member of a class that I believe has its best days behind it. And this government Land Act has thrown you a lifejacket that you should cling on to. In a few months your finances will be so bad that even the Land Act won’t rescue you – my lord!”

Charles glared angrily at Joyce. “Is there anything else?”

“No.”

“Then I wish you a safe journey back to Dublin,” said Charles.

Joyce stood up and nodded at him. “Good day, Lord Armstrong.”

Charles was shaken after the visit from the bank manager. He had never been good at looking at the finer details of finances, which his experiences in London had testified to. But when he came into the Armstrong estate, he had believed all his money worries would be over. Only now to be told that his finances were in a dire situation. He summoned James to the library.

“The situation can’t continue, James – we are being starved of funds with those bastards not paying their bloody rents,” he raged.

“What do you expect me to do about it?” James had nearly given up hope on the situation at this stage.

“I expect you to solve it, as the estate manager!” insisted Charles.

“Oh, I’m the estate manager now, am I? You’d never bothered telling me that before, or ever listened to my advice to indicate I had that position,” James said jeeringly.

“I think they’re near to breaking – I think the tenants will give in soon,” said Charles.

“They have no intention of giving in. Sure they aren’t losing anything. They are still farming away and just not handing you their rents because of the strike.”

“They’re trying to force me to sell them my land with this new Act by making things as difficult as possible for me,” said Charles.

James shrugged.

“The only thing we have over them is the fear of evictions. So we’ll have to increase that fear.” Charles reached for the estate journals. “We’ll pick the first twenty families in this journal and evict them. Get Brompton on the case.”

“Twenty families all at once! You can’t do that!” declared James.

“Why not? Since no tenant has paid a penny to me in nearly a year, they are all liable for eviction. And if I have to evict every last one – then I will!”

chapter 72

Present Day

Kate hadn’t rung Nico since she left for Dublin to do her next leg of research at the Irish Automobile Club. He wandered into the library. He raised his eyes to heaven as he saw all his architectural work had been unceremoniously shifted to a corner of the room. Kate had the whole room taken over with the documents and boxes from the attic. He wandered over to the pile of boxes with a big note saying ‘To Do’ in Kate’s handwriting attached to them. He started looking through the boxes. A lot of them were financial records stretching back to the nineteenth century. He imagined Kate had never even looked through them previously as she hated anything to do with finances. He sat down and started going through the boxes.

Returning from Dublin that night, Kate braced herself as she let herself into Armstrong House. She wanted to rush in and share what she had found out in the Royal Irish Automobile Club with Nico but decided it was best not to. It was obvious from their argument he didn’t support her in this quest she was on.

“I tried ringing you earlier,” he said as she came into the room.

“I had my phone off,” she said.

“Find anything interesting in Dublin?” he asked.

She nodded in a noncommittal way and was surprised to notice Nico had a pile of documents out on the coffee table.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

“I thought, with you being up in Dublin and us under time pressure for the filming, I’d give you a hand – so I went through some of the boxes in your ‘To Do’side of the library,” he said, half smiling at her.

She smiled gratefully at him as she sat beside him. “Ah, thanks. Nico.”

“I ignored all the papers in the years before 1903. From what I can see Charles was in severe financial difficulty by then. Looking at the rent books, the tenants had stopped paying any rents the previous year. He had big overdrafts and there’s a lot of letters from the bank to him warning him of his dire situation.”

“Very interesting,” she said as she started to take up the papers and look at them.

“There’s also a letter from his solicitor the week he was shot saying that as per Charles’ instructions he would start the ball rolling for the estate to be sold to the tenants under the Wyndham Act which would provide him with much-needed finances.”

“But we already know the vast majority of the estate was sold off after Charles was shot under that government act.”

“Yes – but we thought the estate was being sold as a result of Charles’ being shot. This shows he had intended to sell it before that.”

“Very true,” said Kate, not wanting to come across as unappreciative of Nico’s work.

“But what was most interesting was these two,” he said, reaching forward and taking two papers and handing one to her. “One is a copy of a bank statement depositing £20,000 into his account from a Hugh Fitzroy that week . . . and this is a letter from same said Hugh Fitzroy.”

“And who is Hugh Fitzroy?” wondered Kate out loud.

“I checked on the peerage website of Great Britain and Ireland. He was married to Charles’ sister Lady Emily, who we know gave a statement to the police when Charles was shot saying she was staying with her mother, Lady Margaret, that night.”

Kate’s eyes widened at Nico’s good work. “I’m impressed!”

“You should be! Now read the letter and you’ll be even more impressed. It’s on paper from the Castlewest Arms Hotel where he was obviously staying and dated the 6th of December 1903, two days before the shooting.” Nico sat back smugly.

Kate read the letter.

Castlewest Arms Hotel

Main Street

Castlewest

Co. Mayo

December 6th 1903

Dear Armstrong,

The £20,000 has now been deposited to your account as we agreed and find enclosed the copy of the bank transaction. I want to return to London without any delay. Talk to Emily at once to make her see sense and return to London with me this week.

Fitzroy

Kate resumed her work in the library. What Nico had found concerning the payment and the note from Hugh Fitzroy had opened her eyes to another avenue. She checked the 1901 census records online and saw that Emily was living with her husband Fitzroy at Hanover Terrace in London. She then checked the 1911 census and discovered that only Hugh was living at the address with servants. Emily was no longer living there. Kate reasoned Emily had left her husband and that’s why she was staying with Lady Margaret in Hunter’s Farm, which explained why she had been in Ireland in December 1903. The 1911 census made Kate think it was a permanent separation unless something had happened to Emily in the meantime.

Checking the peerage website she saw Emily had lived until 1954 and so she hadn’t died in the meantime. Emily never returned to her husband. Kate sat back, thinking, at her desk. The note to Charles indicated that Fitzroy had entered into some kind of a financial agreement with Charles to make Emily ‘see sense’ and return to her marriage and London with him. Kate decided she needed to find out all she could about this character Hugh Fitzroy.

Kate came into the drawing room with print-outs from the internet.

Nico looked apprehensively at her papers and her excited face. “What have you got there?”

“I’ve been trawling through the online archives of the newspapers at the time to see if I could come up with anything about Hugh Fitzroy,” she said.

“How did you manage to do that? There must be millions of archives,” he said.

“There are! But I was able to narrow down the search by using the information I got from the census records of the time.”

“Clever old you!”

She smiled sarcastically back at him. “What I did discover was that this Hugh Fitzroy was a very unsavoury man. He cropped up a lot in the social columns, attending this do and that do, and he appeared to be very wealthy.”

“Hence how he afforded to pay Charles’ £20,000,” said Nico.

“Exactly, in what I believe was bribe money paid to Charles to get Emily to return to him, which I imagine she wasn’t aware of. In this article from The Times in 1904,” she handed him an article, “it says that Hugh Fitzroy was charged with attempted murder for trying to shoot a man who owed him a fortune in gambling debts in London.”

Nico quickly read through the article. “But it says the charges were dropped because of insufficient evidence.”

“Yes, but look at this article from the Daily Mirror in 1905. The newspaper had just opened in 1903 and the article is quite salacious.” As Nico read through the article Kate continued to speak. “Hugh Fitzroy was brought to court for brutally assaulting a Mademoiselle Claudine Farger, a daughter of a French Count, at Fitzroy’s home in Hanover Terrace where the article says she had been staying with him. Claudine Farger had been courting Fitzroy at the time of the attack. She gave evidence that the man was a brute, often prone to violent attacks, with a vengeful and malicious personality. He was given a suspended sentence and ordered to pay Claudine Farger £5,000 or risk imprisonment.”

Nico nodded. “And this man who we now know was violent with a temper was in Castlewest the week Charles was shot.”

“And, as we know Emily was here the night Charles was shot and hadn’t returned to London with her husband, it’s safe to say Fitzroy was still in the vicinity that actual night. And since Fitzroy had this Frenchwoman living with him in 1905 and lived alone in the 1911 census, it’s safe to say Emily never did return to him.”

“Which means Charles got £20,000 from a violent and vengeful man and didn’t deliver on his agreement to make Emily ‘see sense’,” said Nico, piecing it all together.

“Could Fitzroy have been waiting for him at the gates to exact his revenge?” mused Kate. “And the family covered it up as they couldn’t have Emily involved in the scandal?”

“Or I’m sure if Emily discovered what Charles had agreed to, it would drive anyone to a murderous rage. Her brother selling her! Maybe the fox fur and shoe were hers? Also why the family went to such lengths to protect her,” offered Nico.

Since Brian had practically banned Kate from the set for interference, she took the opportunity to return to the library where she had nearly finished going through everything there. She decided to take a look through the cook’s diaries at the time. Mrs Fennell had continued working at the house until it was evacuated years later during the War of Independence, and like the rest of the occupants at the time had left many things behind in her hurry to escape. When she had gone through Mrs Fennell’s diaries before she had found it laborious work. Mrs Fennell seemed capable of writing pages and pages of diaries filled with the mundane details of her kitchen being run. She used large-sized ledgers – no doubt provided by Armstrong House for official purposes – and they were filled with recipes, shopping lists and accounts. Previously Kate had gleaned just enough for the docudrama. She hadn’t wanted this film to be distracted by the workings of downstairs – she wanted it to concentrate on the family.

She started looking through the diaries again, taking time to actually read them.

Kate soon discovered that Mrs Fennell also included passages and references to the Armstrongs, particularly Arabella who she was scheduled to meet regularly to take orders.

For the page of January 20th 1903 Mrs Fennell, after a full page writing notes on how she prepared a lunch of Shepherd’s Pie, had written: Meeting with Lady Armstrong 12 o’clock – cancelled – again!

Her interest piqued, Kate continued reading the pages, making notes of the crucial parts that were nestled in amongst the domestic minutiae.

14th February – Valentine’s Day – Not much romance between his lordship and her ladyship! Rowing till one in the morning.

8th March – Managed to get a meeting with her ladyship. Explained to her the difficulty we were having in the kitchen as some of the shops won’t deliver to the house due to this blasted Land War and another kitchen maid walked out on me.

All her ladyship said was – we must manage as best we can!

30th March – Lady Prudence saw off another governess today. A kindly woman from Dublin, left in tears! Lady A said she had other things to worry about than substandard governesses!

12th April – a big dinner at the house tonight. Mr Harrison and his wife the American coming along with Lady Margaret up from Hunter’s Farm. All hands on deck.

30th April – Order more gin! Lady A has drunk it all dry!

15th May – The two of them nearly lifted the roof off with their shouting and screaming last night! Lady A didn’t emerge from their bedroom till two this afternoon! When I asked her about lunch, she asked – is it not dinner time yet?!

18th June – Terrible antics on the estate with the Land War. I don’t know where she’s hiding all the gin bottles, but they’re disappearing at an alarming rate from the drinks store.

19th July – That brat Prudence has taken it on herself to start coming down to my kitchens and giving orders. As the mother seems incapable of running this house, her daughter seems to think it’s her place to take over. We had some set to!

28th August – Young Master Pierce has been packed off to school.

As Kate read on she found an alarming picture emerging of a house falling into disarray. And the more disarray emerged, the more Mrs Fennell started talking about the politics of the house rather than the domestic side of it. Mrs Fennell painted an alarming image of Arabella and Charles’ marriage being conducted in almost a war-like situation. Arabella seemed incapable and disinterested in the running of the house and Charles’ time was taken up with conducting the Land War. Kate became disturbed as she could almost sense the tense and destructive atmosphere that was there at the time. And as the diary continued closer to the date that Charles was shot in December the house seemed to be reaching a fever pitch, a boiling point of tension and rows.

Kate turned hesitantly to the first weeks in December, waiting to see what Mrs Fennell had written about the fateful night Charles was shot. At the bottom of a page she had written: December 7th – Terrible news, Master James is leaving his post as estate manager! He’s devastated and I’ve never seen such anger in him towards Charles.

She looked at the next page and stared in disbelief – the page for the 8th of December had been torn out. Also there were no further entries in the diary for the rest of the year. Kate turned the blank pages in disappointment.

Nico had been in Dublin on business that evening. On his return he found Kate sitting up in bed with Mrs Fennell’s diary, looking very dissatisfied.

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Mrs Fennell ripped the page out and we’ll never know what she had written for December eighth and ninth. And she had become gloriously indiscreet by then.”

“Which was probably why she ripped it out!” Nico pointed out.

“But what had she written? What had she seen and written that she felt she had better destroy it afterwards?”

Nico put his arm around Kate. “Don’t worry, maybe some things are best left not found out.”

“She names somebody else with a grudge against Charles – his brother James,” mused Kate.

Kate parked the Range Rover outside the house and, getting out, walked in a daze up to the front door and let herself in. She walked into the drawing room and sat down, staring into space.

She saw the box of cigarettes lying on the coffee table and reached out for them. She picked up the packet and was about to take one when she quickly dropped it back down on the table. She heard a car pull up outside and a minute later the front door opened and closed.

“Kate?” called Nico.

She didn’t answer and a few seconds later Nico came in.

“Kate, we need to get the Renault to a garage, it’s playing up again,” he said, coming in. He looked at her transfixed on the couch. “Kate?” he asked, seeing her expression and coming and sitting beside her.

She slowly turned to him. “I was at the doctor’s this morning.”

“Is everything all right?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m pregnant.”

Nico’s mouth opened and his eyes widened in shock. They stared at each other.

She wasn’t sure if she was more worried or relieved that he looked as shocked as her.

Looking at his terrified expression, she suddenly burst out laughing.

“Kate?” he asked, even more concerned.

“Oh, Nico, you should see yourself!” she said between her laughter.

He started giggling too and then they both fell back laughing.

Ever since Kate had come to live at Armstrong House, ever since she had met Nico, she had always had an obsession with it and the Armstrongs who had lived there. But even after she had married Nico she never felt part of it. She always felt like an observer, an intruder standing at the doorstep of their history. But suddenly, since she knew she was pregnant, that had changed. The child she was carrying was a direct descendent from all those people who had lived in the house before them. The child would be part of them, carry the same genes and maybe the same outlook and characteristics of all those who had come before him or her. And she suddenly became aware of her own part in the history of the house.

“What has you looking so happy? Other than the fact you’re to be a father again?” she asked as she kissed Nico. It was evening time and he had just returned home from a business trip to Dublin.

“I’ve been doing some work for your film,” he said.

“Oh?” She was curious.

He led her to the couch, opened his briefcase and produced Mrs Fennell’s diary.

“I took it to a friend of mine, who I was at university with, to take a look at it. He’s a scientist, working in forensic labs.”

“What could he do with Mrs Fennell’s diary?” she asked, confused.

“I wondered was there anything he could do about the page that’s missing,” he said.

“What can he do about a page that’s been destroyed over a hundred years ago?”

“Quite a lot as it happens. As Mrs Fennell didn’t write any more entries for the rest of the year after the fateful night, the page after was blank.”

“And?”

“And he managed to bring up the imprint of what she had written using something called electrostatic detection.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a scientific device used mostly in criminal cases when they are trying to read any indentations on ransom or extortion notes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When a person is writing on a sheet of paper that is in a notebook or a diary such as this, the writing’s impression or identification transfers to the paper underneath. This impression on the underneath paper isn’t visible to the naked eye but electrostatic detection can pick up its imprint.”

“I see,” said Kate. “So police use it in the case of kidnappers if they receive a ransom note to try to pick up any accidental evidence from who wrote the note. They’d want to be fairly shoddy kidnappers!”

“You’d be surprised how effective this is. It can pick up imprints through several layers of paper.”

“And did it work for us?” She sat up excitedly.

He reached into his briefcase again and handed her a sheet of paper. “It’s a bit sketchy in parts. But the print on the page came up and it’s readable. It was a stroke of luck for us that Mrs Fennell used those large ledgers, as her entry for the 8th was a long one but fitted on one page.”

“Oh Nico!” she said, grabbing him and kissing him.

She could hardly concentrate she had become so excited. “What does it say?”

“I haven’t read it yet – I thought you should be the first,” said Nico, smiling at her.

She placed the paper on the coffee table and concentrated as she read.

8th December 1903

What a racket went on tonight. I was sitting starting to write the business of the day in my diary when Lord and Lady Armstrong began a screaming match downstairs. The ferocity of their fighting made it impossible for me to write tomorrow’s shopping list. Mr Fennell had gone to bed and as I sat at the desk here in our bedroom their screaming and shouting echoed through the whole house. Then I heard an engine outside and I went to our attic window and looked out and saw Mr Harrison’s wife, the American Victoria, arrive up in her motor car on her own, even though it was very late. Mr Fennell quickly got dressed and rushed out and down the stairs to let her in. I went down with him and as we came to the top of the stairs we heard her ladyship unlocking the door herself and greeting Mrs Armstrong with the words ‘Well, if it isn’t the whore herself!’ Myself and Mr Fennell remained hidden in the corridor upstairs as we saw the two ladies go into the drawing room where Lord Charles was.

It was hard to hear what they were rowing about from where we were upstairs. But at the end I heard Lady A warn that if he left her she would kill herself. We heard Lord A and Mr Harrison’s wife leave the drawing room and he said he needed to get something from the library before they left. Afraid of being spotted, we went back to our room in the attic. We sat there fretting and I was looking out the window. A little while later Lord A and Mrs Victoria came out and rushed to her motor car. He took the keys from her and sat behind the steering wheel and they drove off at high speed. Worried about Her Ladyship, we went downstairs to check on her. We’ve checked everywhere, including her room, but she is missing.

Kate read and re-read the entry.

“So was Charles eloping with Victoria that night, or at least trying to before he was shot?” she wondered. “And the Fennells say Arabella was not in the house when the shooting took place, contrary to what she told the police.”

“And she didn’t seem in a good state of mind at all,” said Nico.

“But if Victoria was leaving with Charles,” said Kate, “and Harrison discovered that, he might have got there first. After all, we know from the police report he was present that night as he took Charles to the hospital.”

“As was Emily, who was at Hunter’s Farm,” said Kate. “Not to mention Fitzroy in town.”

“The family went to great lengths to maintain that Victoria was in no way connected to this. There is no mention of her in the statements to the police or inquiry, and as we now know she was in the thick of it.”