The Girls of Ennismore

by Patricia Falvey

  By the next morning, as Victoria’s excitement grew, all warnings were forgotten. She gulped down her breakfast in her haste to get to the schoolroom. She burst into the big, airless room that smelled musty as old rags and, seeing Rosie standing quietly by the far door, ran towards her, squealing in delight. She grabbed her by the hand and pulled her forward.

  ‘Come and sit next to me, Rosie,’ she said, pointing to two wooden school desks with matching chairs that sat side by side.

  In her exuberance, Victoria did not notice Rosie’s pale face and bowed head. It had not even occurred to her that her new friend might not share her own excitement. She climbed onto her chair, smoothing out her pink cambric dress and white pinafore, and patted the empty chair beside her. Tentatively, Rosie slid on to it, pulled it up to the desk, and waited.

  ‘Please settle down, Victoria.’

  Lady Louisa, in a navy serge dress, stood erect beside a blackboard and easel, her face so grim it could have turned milk sour. When Victoria had settled in, she began pacing back and forth in front of the girls. She glared at Rosie.

  ‘You will address me as “my lady”.’

  Rosie swallowed hard.‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘You will speak only when you are spoken to. If you have a question you may put up your hand, but if I ignore you then you will put it down again.’

  ‘Yes,’ murmured Rosie.

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘Now, as to your dress,’ went on Lady Louisa sniffing through her long, thin nose, ‘that will do, I suppose, but for goodness sake ask your mother to remove that awful sash. And ask her for a pinafore in case of spills or ink stains.’

  Rosie’s face turned crimson. ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Lady Louisa looked from Rosie to Victoria. ‘There will be no giggling from either of you, and no mischief. You are here to learn, and it is my poor fortune to be the one to stuff some knowledge into your heads. You,’ she said, nodding towards Rosie, ‘I suspect you’ve learned next to nothing in that school for urchins you have been attending in the village. Let me see just how deficient your education is.’

  They spent the remainder of the morning on drills of spelling and arithmetic, a long ruler gripped in Lady Louisa’s bony fingers as she pounded on the blackboard. She then handed each girl a book and instructed them to take turns reading aloud from it. Victoria’s stomach churned. She hated reading aloud and was embarrassed that Rosie should hear how halting her delivery was. In her nervousness she stumbled even more than usual. When she finished she sat back in awe as Rosie raced smoothly through the paragraph without one mistake. She couldn’t stop herself from clapping her hands when Rosie finished.

  ‘Ooh, well done, Rosie!’ she said.

  ‘Quiet, Victoria,’ said Lady Louisa.

  Sadie served lunch at eleven o’clock. Rosie, who had had no appetite for breakfast earlier in the day, now devoured the tiny ham sandwiches in front of her while Victoria bit daintily into hers. Rosie swallowed her milk in gulps and slapped the empty glass down on the table with a sigh.

  ‘Quiet, please,’ snapped Lady Louisa as she left the room. ‘I have a headache.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, er, my lady,’ said Rosie.

  Victoria jumped up from the table and grabbed Rosie’s hand. ‘Let’s go and see my toys.’

  They were still in the schoolroom, she reasoned, so she was not breaking her mama’s rules. She pulled Rosie towards the big cupboard in the corner of the room.

  ‘Would you like to see my dolls?

  For the next half hour Victoria pulled out every doll from the cupboard, telling Rosie their names and when she had received them. She took down a box which contained all manner of doll’s clothes – dresses and hats and scarves of the finest material. ‘Come on, let’s dress them up. Oh, it’s so much fun to have someone to play with, Rosie.’

  Rosie smiled for the first time that morning.

  The nursery clock chimed noon and Lady Louisa returned.

  Rosie whispered to Victoria, ‘Can’t we go outside for a minute? It’s so stuffy in here.’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘It’s not allowed,’ she said.

  Lady Louisa, having evidently recovered from her headache, rapped on the blackboard for attention. ‘Now we will have some French conversation, shall we?’ she announced. ‘You may join in if you wish,’ she added, looking at Rosie.

  Rosie blushed and sank lower into her chair. Victoria, on the other hand, clapped her hands in delight. Now it was her turn to show off to Rosie. She prattled back and forth with Lady Louisa, grinning at Rosie when she finished. Seeing Rosie’s worried face, Victoria leaned over to her.

  ‘Don’t worry, Rosie, I’ll teach you French. And you can help me with my reading.’

  There followed an hour of deportment and etiquette. Both girls giggled as they walked around the schoolroom, each balancing a book on her head.

  When three o’clock struck, Rosie made for the back stairs. Victoria got up to follow her. Only the sharp clap of Lady Louisa’s hands stopped them. ‘I’ve never seen such appalling manners. Come back to your desks this minute and wait until I dismiss you. And you should know better, Victoria. Just wait until I tell your father.’

  ‘Please don’t, Aunt Louisa, or he will send Rosie away.’

  ‘Then you will do well to remember your manners in the future. You may go only when I tell you, and quietly please. No running.’

  Ignoring her command, Rosie got up and ran to the back door of the schoolroom, heading for the servants’ stairs. Victoria, who did not dare move, called after her but she did not turn around. Victoria’s face fell. Why was Rosie so anxious to leave? She didn’t even say goodbye. Could it be that Rosie didn’t like her? The thought had never even occurred to her. Lady Louisa finally dismissed her and she fought back tears as she walked over to the toy cupboard. Ignoring the pile of dolls that lay on the floor, she reached up and pulled out the blue and white toy boat that Rosie had rescued and cradled it against her.

  Later that same evening, after the family dinner dishes were cleared and washed and the kitchen scrubbed, the household staff assembled in the servants’ hall for their own evening meal. They sat at a long, well-worn, wooden table, the men on one side, the women on the other, arranged according to rank, with Mr Burke, butler, presiding at its head. On the table sat platters of leftover food. Tonight there were more leftovers than usual because Lord Ennis was suddenly called away to London and Lady Ennis and Lady Louisa had eaten little. The smell of roast beef, savoury sauces, and warm buttery bread mixed with the smells of bleach and cleaning fluids from the kitchen. Thelma, a big country girl and the youngest of the maids, served water, while Mr Burke solemnly poured wine into heavy glasses for himself, the housekeeper and the cook.

  ‘Where is Miss Canavan?’ Mr Burke enquired, noting the empty chair next to Immelda Fox, Lady Ennis’s maid.

  ‘Lady Louisa rang for her just as we were about to sit down,’ said Mrs Murphy, housekeeper. ‘Apparently she was not feeling well and wanted fresh water.’

  ‘’Tis no wonder. She had to put up with Rosie Killeen today as well as Miss Victoria. Sadie said the Rosie one already disgraced herself the way she gulped down the lunch like a starving goat.’ Mrs O’Leary looked at Bridie who sat next to her. ‘Did your ma teach her no manners at all?’

  Bridie said nothing.

  It was a warm night for September. Mrs O’Leary opened the top buttons of her blouse and fanned herself with her right hand. ‘I’m roasted with the heat,’ she sighed. ‘Seaneen,’ she said, nodding to the younger of the two footmen, ‘would you ever go and open the kitchen door and let in some air?’

  ‘I will, mum, but ’tis the horse dung ye’ll be smelling if I do.’

  Mrs O’Leary was a tall, big-boned woman who towered over the rest of the staff, except for Mr Burke. Her considerable bulk was anchored, however, by exceptionally small and dainty feet which she pointed and twirled coquettishly as she sat sideway
s on her chair stretching her legs out before her.

  ‘Arrah, whisht,’ she said. ‘Do as I say or I’ll be after stripping this blouse off meself altogether and treating ye to a show ye won’t soon forget.’

  Thelma giggled as she refilled the water jug.

  The servants’ hall, which adjoined the kitchen, was a long, narrow, stone-floored room with a low ceiling and no exterior windows. The only window was the one on the inside wall that divided the servants’ hall and Mr Burke’s quarters, thus allowing the butler to observe the staff even as they took their leisure. Smoke from years of cooking in the adjacent kitchen had rendered the once white-washed walls a dull, stony grey. The heat from the kitchen stove and the steam from boiling pots made the temperature almost unbearable, particularly on warm days.

  Sean was right about the smell of horse dung. It wafted from the stables through the kitchen and into the servants’ hall as soon as he opened the door. Mrs O’Leary rolled her eyes and took a gulp of wine.

  ‘Let us say grace,’ said Mr Burke, bowing his head.

  Mr Burke was a member of the Church of Ireland, as were the Bell family. The rest of the servants were Catholic. So it was Church of Ireland prayers that were said before meals, Mr Burke intoning loudly, while the rest of the servants muttered along with their eyes closed.

  Mr Burke had just begun the prayer when Sadie burst into the room, her curls bouncing around her white cap. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, ‘herself was in a desperate temper.’

  Mr Burke held up his hand and Sadie bowed her head and mumbled the prayer. Then she sat down between Immelda Fox and Bridie Killeen.

  When he finished, Mr Burke cleared his throat and gave Sadie a stern look. ‘You will show respect, Miss Canavan. You will not refer to Lady Louisa as “herself”.’

  A tall, skeletal man with the grim face of an undertaker, Mr Burke took seriously his obligation to attempt to civilize the often unruly servants.

  ‘Aye, Mr Burke. But wait till I tell ye—’

  ‘No gossip, Miss Canavan. You know the rules.’

  But Sadie was undaunted. ‘Herself, er Lady Louisa, says the Rosie one is as thick as a turnip and her manners are shocking. You should have seen the face of her. Red as a turkey cock she was.’ She looked pointedly at Bridie. ‘So what do you think of that now, Bridie?’

  Bridie glared at her and shrugged.

  An uncomfortable silence followed until Anthony Walshe slapped his small thigh and grinned. ‘Well, more power to wee Rosie,’ he said. ‘On my oath, I wouldn’t want to be the one facing that weasel of a governess every morning, I’ll tell ye that.’

  Brendan Lynch, the black-haired, older of the two footmen, allowed a scowl to mar his handsome face. ‘’Tis only using her they are, the way they do all of us. When they’ve finished with her they’ll throw her out like a pile of oul’ rubbish and what will she do then? Bloody gentry. They all deserve to burn in hell.’

  ‘Don’t be blaspheming, Brendan,’ Immelda Fox said sharply.

  Mr Burke stood up. ‘Enough,’ he shouted. ‘There will be no more talk of the matter.’

  Over the following months Rosie dragged herself up to the Big House each morning, dreading what new humiliations the day would bring. Lady Louisa went out of her way to find fault with her, missing no opportunity to criticize her brogue, or rough manners, or ignorance. Before, everyone had always said how clever Rosie was, but now she felt her confidence ebbing away as if she had contracted some rare sickness.

  Victoria seemed unaware of her struggles. Rosie didn’t blame her. How could a girl like her ever understand? She had been brought up in luxury, in a world that was safe and secure. Rosie wanted to hate her, but the girl was so kind and gentle that she couldn’t. Besides, Victoria was so delighted to have her as a friend that she ran to her each morning and gave her such an eager hug it almost smothered her.

  At home, Ma constantly reminded Rosie of her good fortune in being able to receive the same education as one of the gentry.

  ‘I go down on me two knees every night, Rosie,’ she said, ‘and thank God for the blessings He has bestowed on us. It’s no less a miracle than the sick being cured at Lourdes. Sure, there’s not a girl in County Mayo who wouldn’t jump at the chance you have. Amn’t I right, John?’

  John Killeen stared into the fire, avoiding his wife’s eyes, and nodded.

  Rosie supposed her mother was right. But that knowledge did little to ease the loneliness buried deep inside her. Every day as she crossed the road that divided her farm from the Ennis Estate she felt more and more as if she were entering a foreign land. She struggled to understand this feeling. Wasn’t the grass the same on both sides of the road? Didn’t the same sun shine from above, the same rain quench the earth, and the same flowers bloom? And yet each day it was as if she had crossed a chasm into another world where, for all its lushness, the land appeared artificial and constrained, like a child on its best behaviour – a place where no untamed grasses and flowers sprouted unbidden, no wild rabbits and foxes scurried and burrowed and bred babies, and no friendly dogs ran to meet you.

  Eventually, Rosie realized that if she were to thrive in this strange world she must force herself to fit in, and to fit in she must try to understand it, and to understand it she must become like the people who lived in it. Thus she resolved to endure Lady Louisa’s barbs while learning everything she could – not just from books, but the things that weren’t in books, like how the gentry walked and talked and ate and dressed.

  She continued to excel in reading, delighted with the new books that Lady Louisa introduced. Her French became passable, thanks to Victoria’s coaching. She was allowed to take piano lessons from a tutor with Victoria and they enjoyed playing duets together. Her table manners improved, which was a subject of much ridicule from her brothers. She began to take more interest in her appearance, insisting on ribbons to tie back her unruly black curls, and a clean pinafore every day which she washed and ironed herself. Even her diction changed. She picked up Victoria’s inflections and ways of expression and her brogue softened.

  Rosie herself was unaware of these changes, but her ma and her sister noted them and greeted them very differently.

  ‘Our Rosie is turning into a proper lady,’ said Ma one night.

  Bridie snorted. ‘I don’t know who she thinks she is. I told you she’d get above herself. The next thing you know she’ll be ashamed of the lot of us. She’ll be too grand to set foot in this house.’

  ‘Our Rosie would never forget her family,’ said Ma.

  Something seemed to snap in Bridie.

  ‘Why’s our Rosie being given chances I never got?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been a good girl all my life. Haven’t I minded you and worked hard up at Ennismore? But I’m still only a parlourmaid, cleaning ashes out of the fireplaces every morning, and emptying slops and scrubbing floors. And there’s no end in sight. Unless Immelda or Sadie get married or sacked there’s no chance for me to move up at all. I’ll be a skivvy for the rest of me life!’

  Bridie paused for breath. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at her ma. ‘But what do you care about my troubles? All you think about is Rosie. It’s Rosie this, and Rosie that, and isn’t it grand how pretty Rosie’s getting, and what a great future Rosie will have. It makes me want to spit.’

  Ma looked at her daughter’s thin sallow face, her narrow shoulders and her rough hands. She reached over and put her arms around her. ‘I’m sorry, love. I know you have it hard. And your da and me’s grateful to you for being such a good daughter. We couldn’t ask for better. Now go on in to bed. I’ll bring you a cup of warm milk. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

  The effect of Rosie’s friendship on Victoria, though less obvious, was no less profound. She remained obedient to her mama’s orders to confine her association with Rosie to the schoolroom. Victoria had always been an obedient child, although this had more to do with fear of her mama’s displeasure than her natural inclinations. She strove every
day to eke out the smallest of smiles or nods of approval from her mother, but rarely succeeded. If it were not for her papa’s kindness she would have been a very lonely child.

  Now that void was filled by her new friendship. Her concerns on the first day of school that Rosie did not want to be her friend had evaporated. During their daily lunch, when Aunt Louisa left the schoolroom to rest, Victoria peppered Rosie with questions.

  ‘What is it like to live on a farm, Rosie? Did you ever milk a cow? How many servants do you have? What’s it like to eat your meals with your family? What kind of food do you eat – is it the same as ours? Does your mama love you?’

  Rosie had answered patiently and Victoria began to form a picture of her friend’s world and to realize it was very different from her own. How she longed to live in the cottage that Rosie described with a loud and loving family, and a mother who barely scolded her when she forgot her manners and who always kissed her goodnight.

  ‘Mama, why must I behave like a lady all the time? Rosie doesn’t have to.’

  Lady Ennis gave her daughter a look of disapproval. She and the girl sat stiffly together in the nursery during one of her infrequent afternoon visits.

  ‘Because you are a lady, Victoria, or at least you will be when you enter society.’

  ‘But what if I don’t want to enter society, Mama?’

  ‘Nonsense, girl, you have no choice. You are the daughter of an earl. It is your duty.’

  Victoria scowled. ‘I don’t like duty,’ she said.

  ‘Stop scowling, Victoria, it will spoil your looks. And it doesn’t matter whether you like duty or not, you will do what is expected of you and that is the end of it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Enough, Victoria!’

  Lady Ennis rose from her chair and stared down at her daughter.

  ‘It’s that dreadful girl putting thoughts in your head, isn’t it? I warned your father this would happen.’

  Victoria jumped to her feet, filled with alarm. ‘Oh no, Mama, Rosie hasn’t done anything. Really, she hasn’t. These are my own thoughts from my own head.’