A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  A

  GREAT

  BEAUTY

  A. O’Connor

  Also by A. O’Connor

  This Model Life

  Exclusive

  Property

  Ambition

  Full Circle

  Talk Show

  The House

  The Secrets of Armstrong House

  The Left-Handed Marriage

  The Footman

  On Sackville Street

  The Legacy of Armstrong House

  By Royal Appointment

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organisations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Published 2019

  by Poolbeg Press Ltd

  123 Grange Hill, Baldoyle

  Dublin 13, Ireland

  E-mail: poolbeg@poolbeg.com

  www.poolbeg.com

  © A. O’Connor 2019

  © Poolbeg Press Ltd. 2019, copyright for editing, typesetting, layout, design, ebook

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-78199-797-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  www.poolbeg.com

  About the author

  A graduate of the National University Maynooth and Trinity College Dublin, A. O’Connor is the bestselling author of thirteen previous novels including The House, The Secrets of Armstrong House, The Legacy of Armstrong House, The Footman, The Left-Handed Marriage and By Royal Appointment.

  He had also written children’s books on Kilmainham Gaol, Martin Luther King, James Joyce and the Irish patriot Michael Davitt. (Also published by Poolbeg)

  Acknowledgements

  A big thank-you to the team at Poolbeg – Paula, Kieran, David, Lee and Caroline. Also, my gratitude to my editor Gaye Shortland. As always, a big thank-you to the book buyers and the readers.

  For Laura Byrne

  In 1921, Michael Collins travelled to London as part of the Irish peace delegation, where he met the famous society hostess Lady Hazel Lavery.

  This novel is the author’s interpretation of actual events.

  PROLOGUE

  1909

  New York came into plain view as the ocean liner continued to reduce speed.

  “We’re nearly there – home,” said Hazel Lavery as she and her five-year-old daughter Alice looked out the porthole of their stateroom.

  “It’s so big!” cried Alice, her eyes wide in amazement at the view of the city.

  “Indeed it is,” said Hazel, smiling. “Now, we want you to look as pretty as possible for our arrival, so go with Nanny and change into your nicest dress. Nanny, can you take Alice to her room and dress her for her arrival, please?”

  “Yes, Mrs Lavery,” said the nanny as she took Alice by the hand.

  Hazel’s husband John Lavery was seated in an armchair smoking a cigar and he smiled indulgently at Alice as she walked past. Alice ran to her stepfather and hugged him.

  Hazel looked at the two and her heart filled with joy. It was not just a relief, but an absolute pleasure to her that her daughter adored John and he returned that love in equal measure.

  As romances go, hers and John’s had the most tumultuous journey possible before they had finally married two years previously. ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’ Shakespeare said, but Hazel thought that the Bard of Avon could not have imagined the twists and turns she and John had to endure before finally being allowed to marry.

  She sat down on the couch opposite him once Alice and her nanny had left the room. “You spoil her, John,” she chastised him.

  “I delight in spoiling her,” he said, smiling, then his smile drooped slightly as he thought of his own daughter, Eileen, from his first marriage, and how he had neglected her during her childhood by putting his career before everything.

  “I know you do.” Hazel’s smile suddenly turned to a frown. “I do hope the press haven’t discovered we are returning to the States. I have sworn everyone I know to secrecy. I couldn’t bear it if a gaggle of reporters were waiting for us at the port.”

  She remembered the last time she had travelled to the States, a week after her marriage to John. She had come back to settle the estate of her mother who had recently died. The press had been waiting in full force to report the arrival of one of Chicago’s most famous society debutantes and her new husband, the world-renowned Irish artist John Lavery. Due to the gravity of their reason for travelling to America this time, Hazel wanted to avoid such a circus at all costs. Any such publicity would only add to her sister Dorothy’s fragile state.

  As if reading her thoughts, John rose from his chair and came to sit beside her, putting an arm around her.

  “Stop worrying about Dorothy, Hazel – she’ll be fine,” he reassured her.

  Hazel took his hand. “I hope so.” The doctor had said she was very bad this time.

  “It is just more amateur dramatics on her part. She’ll do anything to get your attention. She, and your mother beforehand, have done everything possible to prevent your happiness. And now Dorothy just can’t bear to see us together, happy at last.”

  “Well, I’m all she has in the whole world, John, since Mama died.”

  “That does not mean that you have to sacrifice your life to take care of her. Dorothy needs to start acting like an adult and learn to take care of herself. She could start by stopping this ridiculous continual starvation of herself and eating a proper dinner occasionally!”

  “The doctors insist the fasting is somehow tied up with her insecurities,” said Hazel.

  John sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Everything is down to her insecurities!”

  “It hasn’t been easy for her, John, especially after Mama died and we discovered she had squandered all of Papa’s fortune.”

  “That is no reason to take it out on the rest of us. We invited her to come and live with us in London – she lasted but a couple of weeks and returned to Chicago. And here we are again, putting our lives on hold for your sister.”

  Hazel kissed him. “You’ve had to contend with a lot for me, John Lavery.”

  “You have no idea how much more I would contend with for you, Hazel.”

  His words filled her with joy. She looked into his kind face which always seemed to have an underlying seriousness. Although he was over two decades older than her, he was still handsome, with neat brown hair, a distinguished air and immaculate tailoring. He always made her feel so protected, so safe. When she thought of the turmoil of her life in the past few years, she felt she had found the safest of harbours with John Lavery. She squeezed his hand before standing up.

  “I had better go and change. I want to look my best when we arrive.”

  “My dear Hazel, you will always be the most beautiful woman wherever you go, whatever you wear.”

  She smiled and bent down to kiss him before walking to their bedroom.

  As he watched her go, the smile left John’s face, to be replaced with concern. He
sighed and walked to the porthole where he stood, watching New York looming up ahead as the liner approached it.

  Dressed in furs, Hazel led the way through the crowd at the pier on the Hudson River, followed by John, Alice and her nanny. Porters followed them with their luggage.

  “Where is she?” cried Hazel in frustration, unable to spot her close friend Grace who was due to meet them. They had arranged to spend a couple of nights at Grace’s home in Manhattan before travelling on to Chicago and Dorothy.

  “Hazel!”

  Hazel swung around and saw Grace waving frantically as she pushed through the crowd to her.

  “Grace!” Hazel embraced her friend warmly. “Oh, it is so good to see you! And so good to be back on solid ground after that voyage! We seemed to be at sea for ever!”

  “It’s good to see you too, Hazel,” said Grace as she pulled back from her.

  “I cannot wait to get away from these dreadful crowds, get to your house and have a nice cup of tea!” said Hazel. “How’s Dorothy? What’s the latest news from the doctors?”

  Grace stared at Hazel and bit her lower lip as tears came to her eyes.

  “Grace?” said Hazel, squinting in concern.

  “I’m sorry, Hazel,” said Grace, shaking her head slowly. “It happened while you were still at sea. Just a couple of days ago … there was no way of contacting you … she slipped away. They said it was peaceful ... at the end.”

  Hazel stared at Grace in disbelief, trying to comprehend what she was saying.

  “What do you mean … slipped away?”

  “She’s dead, Hazel – Dorothy is dead.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened as she felt her legs buckle under her. A loud cry was coming from somewhere but she wasn’t sure from where. And then she realised it was coming from her.

  “John!” she cried as he bent to raise her from the ground.

  “She’s in shock,” said Grace. “My chauffeur has the automobile over there – let’s get her out of these crowds.”

  “John! John!” Hazel cried over and over again as he and Grace supported her and pushed through the crowds, trying to get her to the waiting automobile.

  The Laverys spent the night in New York before travelling by train to Chicago the next day with Grace. Time passed Hazel by in a haze.

  She was indeed in a state of shock, unable to accept that Dorothy had died. But when she finally saw her sister’s lifeless body, emaciated from years of fasting, there was no denying she was gone.

  John took care of the funeral arrangements as Hazel was lost in a grief she hoped never to experience again. It was grief accentuated by awareness of a wasted life, of the knowledge that something had happened that might have been avoided.

  The funeral was a small affair. Dorothy had lost contact with all their old friends after their mother died and Hazel hadn’t lived in the city for a number of years. As Hazel pulled her fur coat closer to ward off the October Chicago chills and looked at the small crowd assembled around the grave, she felt depressed at how times had changed so much for them. There was a time when her family had been one of the most prominent in Chicago. They had lived in a fabulous mansion on Astor Street, her father had been a very wealthy and respected businessman and her mother a famous socialite. Both Hazel and Dorothy had been celebrated debutantes, famed for their beauty. Hazel herself had been nicknamed ‘The most beautiful girl in the Midwest’.

  As Dorothy’s coffin was lowered into the grave to join their parents, Hazel felt very alone. There had been only two children in the family. But what depressed her even more was the family’s fall from grace – where had the wealth gone, the prestige, the friends?

  After the service, Hazel accepted the condolences of the few who had gathered and then she, John, Alice and Grace made their way to the automobile that was waiting for them outside the graveyard, John’s arm around her at all times.

  She was getting into the automobile when she heard a man call her name.

  “Hazel!”

  She turned and saw a man standing there with notebook and pen.

  “Hazel, I am reporter from the Chicago Sun Times – could I have an interview with you about your sister’s death?”

  “What – what is this?” asked Hazel, confused.

  “No comment!” snapped John as he ushered Hazel into the automobile.

  “What does he want an interview for?” asked Hazel.

  “Drive on!” John ordered the chauffeur and the automobile quickly drove away.

  “Well, sadly, nobody could do anything for her in the end,” said Grace.

  She and the Laverys were sitting in their hotel suite.

  “I shouldn’t have let her come back to Chicago,” said Hazel. “I should have forced her to stay in London.”

  “She was a grown woman, Hazel,” said John. “She had a right to choose how to lead her life as she wanted to.”

  “And choose her own death?” Hazel asked. “She wasn’t able to look after herself. I let her down.”

  “Dorothy was a very strong-willed girl, Hazel,” said Grace. “There was nothing you could do to stop her from returning to Chicago if that’s what she wanted to do.”

  There was a knock on the door and John went to answer it.

  A waiter wheeled in a trolley with tea, sandwiches and cakes.

  “Thank you, you can leave it just here,” John directed as he reached into his pocket and tipped the waiter handsomely.

  “Shall I be Mother?” said Grace, standing and lifting the teapot.

  As she poured the tea she spotted a photograph of Hazel on the front page of the evening Chicago Sun Times which was placed on the trolley. She quickly put down the teapot and reached out to remove the newspaper, but she was too late. Hazel had grabbed it, having spotted the headline.

  DOROTHY MARTYN DIES ABANDONED BY SOCIETY SISTER

  “What is this?” cried Hazel.

  “Don’t read that trash, Hazel,” begged Grace as she tried to snatch the newspaper away, but Hazel held on to it firmly.

  Hazel read the article aloud.

  “‘The Chicago Sun Times has learned of the tragic and untimely death of Miss Dorothy Martyn, daughter of one of the city’s once most influential families. Aged just twenty-three, it is understood Miss Martyn died as a result of years of physical neglect. Chicago society was shocked to learn Miss Martyn died alone in a public hospital with neither relative nor friend present. Miss Martyn’s one surviving sister, Hazel, lives in London in considerable style and comfort. Previously the widow of top New York surgeon Ned Trudeau, Hazel is now married to world-famous artist John Lavery. It is thought the relationship between the two sisters had been fraught with difficulty for years. A family friend says the sisters were not close and while Hazel continued to live the high life in London, her sister sank further into a life of misery, poverty and depression …’”

  “That’s enough!” said Grace and she snatched the newspaper out of Hazel’s hands. “How dare they write trash like that! I’m going to ring the editor first thing in the morning and give him hell! And then I’m going to get on to our lawyers and get a retraction. They can’t write things like this!”

  Hazel stared into the distance. “They can … because it’s true.”

  That night Hazel stood at the window of their suite, looking out at the city of her birth and upbringing. Grace had gone to her room and Alice and her nanny were in bed.

  John came into the room and, finding it was in darkness, went to turn on the light.

  “No, John, don’t – don’t turn on the light.”

  He walked over to her and, standing behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “I’m never coming back here, John. I’ve no reason ever to come back, now Dorothy is gone. I’m closing the door on Chicago and the States. My home is Europe now – London and Ireland. I don’t want anything to do with America again.”

  BOOK 1

  1920

  CHAPTER 1

  Winston Churchill, Secre
tary of State for War and Secretary of State for Air, was as ever, enraptured by his hostess as he sat across the table from her. Hazel Lavery, or Lady Lavery as she was now styled since her husband had been knighted the previous year, held everyone’s attention at her dinner party at 5 Cromwell Place, Kensington. Her delicate hands moved gracefully as she spoke, deftly emphasising the points she was making. Her hazel eyes, more green than brown, moved from guest to guest as her soft American accent hypnotised everyone present. They said an invitation to Hazel Lavery’s dinner table was the most sought-after in London. As Winston finished his delicious pudding, he fully agreed.

  Hazel ended her tale and all present burst into laughter.

  “Did that really happen with that young gentleman, Hazel?” asked Winston’s wife Clementine.

  “As true as I am sitting here! My father forbade me ever to go to a dance in Chicago again after the incident!”

  “But that didn’t stop you, Hazel?” asked Winston.

  “Of course not! Whenever my father forbade me from doing anything, it only made me do it twice as much!”

  “It’s the poor chap who asked you to dance that I feel sorry for!” said Winston. “I’d say he never recovered from the experience.”

  “Oh, he recovered fully I can assure you and went on to have two wives, though not at the same time I am glad to say – and several mistresses, occasionally at the same time I am not glad to say – after that unfortunate encounter with me!” said Hazel, causing all at the table to erupt into laughter again. “Though I hasten to add, I take no responsibility for his unfortunate love life from that point on!”