A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  My dearest Michael,

  I really can’t express how happy I was to get your letter today. Rest assured, my love, that I miss you in equal measure. But remember I am here for you, thinking of you, supporting you at all times. Whenever you feel down or under pressure, know I am on your side and always have your best interests at heart. Regarding De Valera, he may well disapprove of a treaty that he could not offer an alternative to! How easy it is to be critical of others’ hard work, when he sat on the fence looking on while the work was being done! Now is the time to remain strong, my darling. In the face of the inevitable criticism, it is vital you remain strong and committed to the treaty you have signed.

  Hazel paused and reread what she had just written. She had to write the most positive, supportive letter Michael had ever received. During his time of need, he had turned to her and she must not let him down.

  CHAPTER 58

  Kitty hurried up the steps and into the Gresham Hotel. She didn’t know what she felt most – fear or excitement. The hotel was already decked out in Christmas decorations with a huge Christmas tree in the lobby.

  “Can I help you, madam?” came a voice behind her and when she swung around she saw it was Michael.

  “Oh, Mick!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

  They found a quiet corner in the restaurant and had lunch.

  “Ah, it’s good to see you, Kitty. It’s just wonderful you are here!”

  “I thought you might have got down to Longford by now,” she said.

  “It’s been impossible with everything that’s been going on. After all our hard work, I have to get this treaty ratified by the Dáil – otherwise we’re back to where we started. Doesn’t bear fucking thinking about!”

  “I know – you’ve said all that in your letters. I still hoped I’d walk into the parlour one day and you’d surprise me and be standing there, the way you used to.”

  He reached out and stroked her hand. “Nothing would have given me more pleasure.”

  “I thought, now you have come back and the damned treaty is signed, we could start living a normal life. But here’s you living in a hotel and most of our relationship still being conducted by post.” She glanced around the restaurant. “We’re still not officially engaged, as nobody outside our families knows.”

  “But sure we decided we’d wait until Harry is home in January and tell him first,” said Michael.

  “But will he be home in January or will there be another delay?”

  “He has to come home to vote on the Treaty in the Dáil.”

  “He’ll be on your side, I take it?”

  “Of course – he’s my best and oldest friend and he’ll know this is right for the country.”

  “Maud says that Gearóid is shocked you signed the Treaty. He thinks it will lead to civil war.”

  Michael’s face went red as he tried to control the anger that was threatening to erupt. “Well, it’s just as well Gearóid isn’t a deputy in the Dáil whose vote we would be relying on to get the Treaty ratified, isn’t it?”

  “No need to get angry, Mick,” she cautioned.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and managed to calm down. “I’m sorry. I’m just under such pressure.”

  She sighed loudly. “You’re always under ‘such pressure’, Mick. I don’t have that long. I have to catch the train back to Longford.”

  “Will you not stay until tomorrow?” he asked.

  “In your hotel room?” She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so, Mick. We’re not married yet and I feel as if we compromised ourselves in London. In fact, I regret so much going to London at all.”

  He looked upset as he stared at the tablecloth. “Maybe you regret getting engaged to me as well?”

  She reached over and took both his hands in hers. “No! Mick, that is the one thing I do not regret out of everything. I love you with all my heart and soul. And I want you, so much – so very much. And I know we can make each other happy. You make me very happy all the time. I just want you all the time and sharing you with the world is hard.”

  “But you knew all this when we started. Long before we became engaged.”

  “I know. Isn’t that why I tried to keep away from you for so long? That and the fact that I wasn’t sure if you had real feelings for me.”

  “But you know now? You know how much I return your love?”

  She nodded and whispered, “Of course.”

  CHAPTER 59

  The Churchills’ chauffeur parked outside 5 Cromwell Place and, getting out, opened the back door to let Winston and Clementine out. It was late evening and it was snowing heavily. It was Christmas week and they were attending the Laverys’ traditional drinks party.

  Clementine pulled her coat collar tight around her neck as they carefully walked through the snow and up to the front door.

  They pulled the doorbell and Gordon opened the door.

  “Good evening, Gordon, and Happy Christmas,” said Clementine, stepping quickly into the warm hallway.

  “Good evening, Lady Churchill,” he said.

  “What ghastly weather, Gordon,” said Winston as he shook the snow off his coat onto the tiled floor.

  “Indeed, it is, sir,” said Gordon, taking both their coats.

  “Are we late?” asked Clementine.

  “Not at all. The party is – as the Americans would say – just getting into the swing.”

  “I must say it’s nice to be in this house without the usual array of Irish revolutionaries in attendance!” said Winston.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” asked Clementine. “I’m very upset I didn’t get an opportunity to meet Mr. Collins. Is he as dashing as they say he is, Gordon?”

  “I am sure I am not in a position to judge such things … but I daresay he could be described as having a certain … magnetism,” said Gordon.

  “Well put, Gordon!” laughed Winston. “I must admit myself I was impressed by the fellow by the end of it all.”

  “Who’d ever have thought!” smirked Clementine. “He certainly must have a degree of ‘magnetism’ for you to say that, Winston.”

  “Well, he’ll need all the ‘magnetism’ he has to get that treaty through his damned parliament. Enough of this idle chatter, Clementine, or we shall miss the main event!” They quickly made their way down the hallway and up the stairs to the drawing room where the party was taking place.

  In the drawing room, the atmosphere was very lively as everyone chatted and laughed. Soon Clementine was deep in conversation with Thelma beside the Christmas tree that stretched to the ceiling.

  “I don’t mind telling you, Clementine, that you would not believe the comings and goings in this house over the past few months – if walls could speak!” said Thelma.

  “Really?”

  “As you know I live just across the road and so was privy to all that was going on. There were times I felt quite unsafe, there were that many unsavoury characters hanging around.”

  “How unfortunate!”

  “Yes, there used to be this gang of men who would just sit in an automobile outside the Lavery house whenever the Irish – delegation, for want of a better word, were here. They just sat there watching everything – very intimidating!”

  “I can imagine,” Clementine sympathised.

  “Then there were other men lurking around watching the men who were sitting in the automobile. I presume they were British Intelligence or Scotland Yard.”

  “It’s sounds all very Riddle of the Sands – though I believe that book’s author, Mr. Childers, was one of the few who didn’t visit here,” said Clementine.

  “I really wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know one from the other – they all looked the same to me – apart from Michael Collins, of course – I recognised him from the newspapers.”

  “And I believe you met him at a party here as well?” said Clementine knowingly.

  “Hmmm … I will tell you something, Clementine, Michael Collins
was in this house so much I don’t know why he didn’t just move in!”

  “Yes, I believe he and Hazel became very close.”

  “There’s a surprise with her reputation!” said Thelma, laughing.

  “What are you insinuating, Thelma?”

  “Well, she’s slept with half of London, so she may as well start with Ireland now too!”

  “Well, when you put two very attractive people like Hazel and Mr. Collins in the same company for long, rumours are bound to fly, they always do. And let’s face it, Thelma, Hazel is still the most attractive woman around, bar none.”

  Clementine smiled sweetly at Thelma and then quickly moved on to talk to other guests.

  Hazel was in a deep conversation with Winston and Shane Leslie in the corner of the room.

  “Michael says that he is confident that he will get the Treaty ratified and we must bear with him,” said Hazel.

  “Without De Valera’s support? I really am not so sure, Hazel,” lamented Winston.

  “He says he can get the numbers to get it through the Dáil,” she said. “He is pleading that the British do or say nothing to jeopardise that vote in January.”

  “Well, we want to help the lad get it through at all costs. But there’s unease in our ranks, Hazel. Some Conservative MPs are shouting for the Treaty to be torn up and these attacks that are resumed on British forces over there must stop!”

  “I know, Winston, but these are Anti-Treaty people behind the attacks trying to provoke trouble in Ireland and looking for a reaction from you. We must not give it!”

  Winston sighed heavily.

  “She’s right, dear cousin – we must stand with Michael and the others now we have made the pact with them,” urged Shane.

  “Come with me, both of you,” commanded Hazel as she beckoned them to follow her out of the room.

  They walked down the hallway outside to her sitting room. She opened the door and led them in, turning on the lights.

  She went to her desk, opened a drawer, took out some letters and riffled through them until she found what she wanted.

  She handed Winston a letter.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “It’s my last letter from Michael. Read it for yourself, see his own words … and you will see how much he is trying to make this work and how much you can trust him.”

  Winston sat down on the couch and began to read.

  “See? See how he tries?” said Hazel.

  “I almost feel sorry for him,” said Winston, as he continued to read.

  Shane meanwhile discreetly took up some of the other letters from the desk and began to read through them.

  Finally, Winston stood up and handed back the letter.

  “I shall do my best in Westminster for him,” said Winston. “But you are to tell him he must do his best for us too! Tell him to do all he can to rein in the attacks on British soldiers and buildings there and to try to stop the attacks on the Protestant big houses as well. I know none of it is his doing, but he is getting tarred by the same brush and the British public’s patience is all but worn out!”

  “I’ll write to him tomorrow and tell him. Thank you, Winston.”

  As Winston left the room to return to the party in the drawing room, Hazel turned to see Shane reading her letters from Michael.

  “Shane! They are personal!”

  “Sure – that’s why you left them on the table for me to read!” he said with a laugh.

  “You really are bold, Shane!” she said, taking the letters and putting them back in the drawer.

  “Are you having an affair with him, Hazel?”

  “With who? Michael?” She laughed loudly. “Of course not!”

  “Well, you act as if you are and he writes as if he is!”

  “He does no such thing!”

  “Those letters are full of the sort of maudlin sentimentality that should be reserved for rather dim schoolboys!” said Shane. “Dearest Hazel … I miss you like winter misses the sun … I long to be back in the warm bosom of 5 Cromwell Place’ – ‘warm bosom’ indeed!”

  “Shane! He writes as one friend to another, that is all!”

  “He writes as one lover to another! Seriously, Hazel! Has it come to this? After rejecting the likes of me and Lord Londonderry for years you finally jump into bed with a barely literate soldier!” Shane was amazed and horrified.

  “I haven’t jumped into bed with anyone, apart from my husband. But I do take great offense that you describe Michael as illiterate, or merely a soldier. It is not true!”

  He sat on the side of the desk. “Do you know what I think? I think Michael Collins has captured your heart. I think he has replaced me and Londonderry and all the rest of the boys in London who have been chasing you and you have been manipulating for years. You’ve barely contacted me since Collins came on the scene –”

  “Not true!”

  “And when you do it’s only in relation to a matter involving Collins! Londonderry told me the same thing!”

  “You are jealous, Shane. Envious of Michael.”

  “More confounded than jealous, Hazel! Confounded as to what exactly you can possibly see in a man like that!” He jumped off the desk and stormed out of the room. She watched him go and then went to the drawer and locked it.

  “What do I see in a man like Michael?” she whispered to herself as she looked at the snow fall against the window

  Kitty had been bitterly disappointed that Michael did not make it to spend Christmas with them in Longford. She knew he had said he wouldn’t be able to come, but she still half expected for him to show up to her surprise and delight. On Christmas night, after the festivities of the day, the family and friends had retired to the parlour where the usual fun and games were taking place. Kitty watched, barely participating. She realised she had entered the life she had always demanded of herself to reject. Even after the end of the war, the truce and the Treaty signed – here she was on her own on Christmas Day. Michael seemed more preoccupied with outside events than ever. She knew, if she had any sense, she still had time to run away from this situation. But she was too much in love with Michael to do that. She would take him on whatever terms she must. She idly took up a copy of Vogue magazine and began to leaf though it and came to an abrupt halt when she saw a photo of Lady Hazel Lavery. There were numerous photographs of Hazel taken in her Kensington mansion accompanied by an interview where she discussed her plans for Christmas – that appeared to consist of much partying and socialising. She scrutinised Hazel’s beautiful face. Up to a few months ago she had barely ever heard of Hazel Lavery. But since Michael had entered Hazel’s circle, Kitty felt she could hardly open a magazine or a newspaper but there would be some photograph or article on her. As she studied the photograph of the Laverys’ ornate and sumptuous drawing room, she still found it hard to imagine her Michael being in such an environment or to understand how he could ever be comfortable there. But she had to accept he had, and he was. And she needed to understand this change in him for their life together to work.

  BOOK 3

  1922

  CHAPTER 60

  As 1922 began, the debate for ratification of the Treaty reached fever pitch in the Dáil. As it was the week to vote, all the deputies were present and the atmosphere electric. Harry Boland swaggered into the government building, fresh back from America, and took his seat to listen to the debate that was raging. He looked across the floor and saw Michael sitting opposite him. Suddenly Michael spotted him and a big smile curved across his face as he saluted him.

  Harry smiled warmly and saluted him before both men switched their attention back to the emotive debating and speeches taking place.

  Countess Markiewicz had the floor. A hero of the 1916 Rising, the first female to be elected not only to the Irish parliament but also to Westminster (though she refused to take her seat in the British parliament), the Countess was an adored heroine of the Irish revolution.

  And as she spoke that day, she lamba
sted Michael, rejecting the treaty and bringing his character into question.

  “I have heard stories of the comings and goings in Deputy Collins’ quarters in London. I have heard of the rather large drinks bill from Harrods … rather large food bills from Fortnum and Masons … rather large confectionary bills from Selfridges. One would wonder, under the circumstances of such a large amount of alcohol consumption, was the Deputy in a sober state of mind when signing the Anglo-Irish Treaty?”

  Deputies on both sides of the debate roared approval or disapproval.

  Michael sat with his lips tight, legs crossed, and arms folded. He remembered Hazel’s words. He must not show temper but show statesmanship.

  “As for the company Deputy Collins kept on his adventure in London … one can only say such company was at best ill-advised and at worst outrageous! I understand that Deputy Collins is now such a mainstay of London high society that the wedding of the King’s only daughter, Princess Mary, is to be called off and Princess Mary is to be married instead to Michael Collins who will be appointed the first Governor of Ireland!”

  The roars of the deputies turned into shouting and thumping as shock overcame the house, not only at the accusation but at the Countess’s bravery to make such an outlandish claim.

  Michael got to his feet and waited patiently for silence before speaking.

  “I know nothing of the lady the Countess is referring to, apart from being aware she is engaged to some gentleman. As such the deputy’s accusation may cause the lady some distress … as it may cause pain to the lady who is betrothed to me.”

  The chamber again erupted in chanting and shouting as Michael retook his seat.

  “Did he just announce he was engaged?” said one deputy to another.

  “He did indeed! He kept that quiet!”