He said nothing, merely tightening his grip on her elbow as he led her on around to the front of Ennismore and across the expanse of green lawns, past a copse of beech trees, towards the wooded avenue that led from the estate.
‘Victoria says you’re going to be a banker,’ Rosie said at last, for want of something to break the tension.
Valentine laughed. ‘She’s optimistic then. I don’t think I’m any more cut out for banking than I was for the law. But Papa will keep trying to make a respectable man out of me.’
‘Are you not respectable then?’
‘Not in Papa’s eyes. Thomas is the respectable one. He excelled at Eton and is doing well at Oxford, just as is expected of an oldest son. Thomas is not one to upset any apple carts.’
‘And you are?’
‘Oh, too many to count. It’s a wonder I stayed at Eton so long. I was on probation most of the time. If Papa had not been in the House of Lords I would have been tossed out years ago. And as for my recent venture into the law,’ he paused and sighed, ‘I tried to tell Papa it would never work, but he refused to listen.’
Without thinking, Rosie bent to pick a buttercup which she twirled between her fingers as she walked. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and she wondered why she had so often avoided him. She felt quite grown-up strolling with this handsome young man.
‘So what will happen if you’re not good at banking?’ she asked.
They had reached the avenue which wound down towards the main gates of the estate. The trees formed an arch overhead, blocking the afternoon sun. Rosie had a delicious feeling that she and Valentine were the only people in the world. When they reached the gate he slowed down, and instead of opening it climbed up to sit on the top bar. She leaned casually against it.
It was a moment before he spoke and when he did his words were accompanied by a sigh. ‘Heaven knows. You see, Rosie, I am a second son. Do you know what that means? When your father is an earl, I mean.’
Rosie shook her head.
‘It means that I will not inherit Ennismore or the Ennis Estates, or the title of Earl of Ennis. That is Thomas’s birthright and I bear him no ill will because of it. But it does make me sad that I will not be able to stay and work on the land. The reason I’ve failed at law and will likely fail at banking is that I cannot stand to be cooped up in small, dusty offices. I’ve tried so hard for Papa’s sake to make a go of it, but my soul withers in such places. I need to be out in the fresh air where new life is pulsing all around me.’ He paused to take a deep breath. ‘Alas, as the second son I am expected to go into the law, finance or the Church.’
Rosie looked at him. ‘But why do you have to do what is expected of you? Surely you have a right to choose your own future.’
He gave her a wan smile. ‘Ah, but you are wrong, Rosie. When you are born into this life you give up that right. It’s the price one pays for all this privilege.’
He laughed suddenly, but the sound rang hollow in Rosie’s ears. ‘So my remaining options are the army or to marry a wealthy heiress and contribute to the Bell family fortunes.’
‘A rich wife wouldn’t be too bad now,’ said Rosie, trying to lighten the mood, ‘as long as she wasn’t too ugly.’
‘I think I’d rather face a bayonet.’
They were silent for a while. Birds chattered in the trees and the leaves rustled in the soft breeze.
‘It’s lovely here,’ said Valentine, as if speaking to himself.
‘I hate to think of having to leave it someday. This is where I belong.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Rosie, for the first time expressing her own fears aloud. ‘I suppose I will have to leave it someday too, when Victoria goes off to Dublin and finds a husband.’
Valentine nodded. ‘You and I are alike, Rosie. We neither of us will be allowed to stay at Ennismore.’
They stood in silence for a while. She sensed that he was as reluctant to leave as she was. They might have stood there forever had they not had to move aside to let the estate cattle-herder and his men enter. When the men had gone, Valentine took Rosie’s hand. ‘You see, you don’t have to run from me, Rosie Killeen. I’m not an ogre, just a lost young man who craves your company. Without warning he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek then turned and walked back up the avenue towards the house.
Rosie walked the rest of the way home in a trance. She had actually talked to Valentine. He had taken her elbow and walked her all the way to the gate. He had taken her hand. And he had kissed her. She sighed, trying to remember every detail of the walk, his every movement, every expression, every word. As she neared her cottage, she tucked her sweet memories tightly inside her sixteen-year-old heart. Would her family see any change in her? Would they realize she was no longer a child, but a young woman on the verge of first love? Most likely they would not. She would be the same old Rosie to them. But to herself, she had crossed a threshold from which she would never return.
By early spring of 1910 Victoria’s mind teemed with preparations for her first Season. In only a few months she would be seventeen and ready to depart for Dublin to be formally introduced into society. For two months she would attend a swirl of teas and outings and balls with other young people – all of them chaperoned, all of them hoping to make a profitable marriage.
Her papa had insisted that she must wait, even though her mama had wanted her to go the year before. Victoria welcomed the delay. Part of her was excited to go and part of her was terrified. But on a deeper level she was sad. She realized that once she left, her life would change for good. She wanted to hold on to her present world here at Ennismore with Rosie for as long as she could. She thought back to the secret wish she had made on her thirteenth birthday that she and Rosie would always be together. How foolish she had been.
Now she twirled around her bedroom wearing a blue chenille gown with silver beading. The gown seemed to float around her slender frame. Rosie sat on the bed stroking a pile of dresses which Victoria was trying on. They were stunning – colours and beading and material the likes of which neither girl could ever have imagined.
‘Isn’t it heavenly, Rosie? Have you ever seen anything like it?’
‘You’ll be the most beautiful girl there,’ Rosie said. ‘The boys will be tripping over themselves to get a dance with you.’
‘Do you think so?’ said Victoria blushing.
She turned to study herself in the mirror. As she did so she caught sight of Rosie’s reflection over her shoulder. Her friend had bowed her head and appeared to be wiping away tears. Victoria was suddenly ashamed of herself. How could she not have noticed Rosie’s distress? She went over and sat down beside her on the bed and put her arm around her shoulder.
‘Forgive me, Rosie. I got carried away.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Who could blame you?’
Victoria sighed. ‘I still wish you could come with me. Remember all the times I insisted that you would? I wanted so much for it to be possible.’
Rosie looked up at her. ‘We were both naive, Victoria. There was a time when I wanted to believe it too. I was as caught up as you were with the notion. What girl like me wouldn’t want to go to fancy teas and outings to the seaside and grand balls?’
‘I know. But I realize now how my insistence made it more painful for you. I was being selfish. I wanted you with me.’ She paused and looked at Rosie. ‘Ever since that first day when you dived into the lake and retrieved my little boat I’ve admired your bravery and I’ve wanted to be more like you. The truth is, I only feel brave when you are around.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Ah now, that’s not true. I wasn’t there the time you stood up to your mother and insisted we should be friends outside the classroom and that you wouldn’t go to the Season without me. And you did so in front of your aunts, too. I don’t know if I would have had the courage.’
Victoria giggled. ‘You should have seen their faces! They were stupefied with shock, although Aunt Marianne cheered out loud!’ She paused. ‘O
f course, Mama knew I would go to the Season eventually – and by myself – she was content to wait for me to come to my senses. So I suppose giving in on us spending more time together, although it seemed like a concession at the time, was a good plan for her.’
The girls lapsed into silence for a moment, each lost in her own thoughts.
‘What will you do, Rosie?’ asked Victoria at last.
The question had nagged at her for some time. Her own future was already mapped out – attend the Season, find a suitable husband, and get married. She tried not to acknowledge the small twinge of resentment that rose up every time she thought about this, the real reason for going to Dublin. Instead, she concentrated on the flurry of exciting new adventures that awaited her – balls and outings and teas and a wonderful new wardrobe.
‘I mean after I leave here,’ she continued.
Rosie looked off in the distance. ‘I truly don’t know. My ma thinks I should have no trouble getting a position teaching or as a governess. She doesn’t understand that without proper certification I wouldn’t stand a chance at teaching. I might get taken on as a governess somewhere, but only if I get a glowing reference from Lady Louisa. And I doubt that will be forthcoming.’
‘Have you asked her?’
‘No, but I suppose I will have to. I don’t hold out much hope though.’
‘Maybe I can help persuade her.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I think that might make it worse.’ She stood up. ‘There’s one thing I do know, Victoria, and that is I will never be a servant at Ennismore or anywhere else. No matter what else I have to do, I will not do that.’
Later, Victoria watched from the bedroom window as Rosie made her way across the lawns down towards the gates of Ennis Estate. Instead of her friend’s usual confident walk, her shoulders were slumped and her head bowed. She tried to put herself in Rosie’s place. But no matter how hard she tried she knew she could never understand what it would be like to be a farmer’s daughter who was thrust into the world of the gentry and then abandoned. Tears filled her eyes as she watched Rosie’s figure disappear and realized how much responsibility she bore for her friend’s misfortune.
CHAPTER 4
As he had predicted, Valentine also failed at banking. He returned to Ennismore in late April 1910 and a cold formality settled upon the relationship between the young man and his father. As soon as he could, Valentine sought out Rosie’s company.
‘So you see, I have failed again,’ he said, approaching her in the garden where she knelt cutting flowers. ‘I am a worthless lout.’
Rosie detected the irony in his voice. ‘No you’re not,’ she said.
Valentine shrugged. ‘It’s what Papa says, and I appear to be proving him right.’ He looked at her. ‘I tried my best, Rosie, I really did. And I might have stayed on but the bank ran into financial trouble. I was not the only clerk who was sacked. But still, in Father’s eyes I am a failure.’
Rosie’s heart ached for him, caught as he was between his heart’s desire to stay and work the land and his duty to his family. And his father’s disapproval must surely add to his pain.
‘Our lessons ended early today,’ she said, standing up and shaking the soil from her dress. ‘Victoria claimed to have a headache so I am gathering some flowers to cheer her up. But I think the truth is she is bored and distracted. She and your mama will be away to Dublin in a month.’
‘Yes, and Papa says that as I have nothing better to do I am to accompany them and serve as Victoria’s escort,’ said Valentine, his tone bitter.
Rosie felt a twinge of envy. How much she would have loved to ride to Dublin in a coach with Valentine at her side. She sat down on a nearby bench and laid the bunch of ox-eyed daisies beside her. Valentine joined her, his arm resting on the back of the bench and his long legs stretched out before him.
He smiled. ‘And what of you, Roisin Dove? Would you welcome such a trip to Dublin to attend teas and balls and meet the boy of your dreams?’
Valentine had taken to calling her ‘Roisin Dove’, after she mentioned that this was her da’s pet name for her. ‘It means ‘Dark Rosaleen’ she had told him, ‘and ’tis another name for Ireland.’
‘I suppose I would,’ she said, in answer to his question. ‘But where would I be getting fancy dresses and invitations to balls?’
She did not add that she had already met the boy of her dreams. Wasn’t he sitting here beside her? As he turned away to gaze out at the horizon she stole a look at him, taking in his flaxen hair, the firm lines of his nose and jaw and his pale, well-groomed hands folded carelessly in his lap. He smelled of clean soap, with a faint hint of lavender. How different he was from the other boys she knew. Her red-faced and rugged brothers, whom she loved dearly, were good and hardy souls but were a different breed altogether. And the young lads beyond in Crossmolina who leaned against shop window-sills, whistling after girls and asking for a kiss, struck her as oafish compared with Valentine’s dignified manner. She wondered if she would ever have been attracted to one of them had she never set foot in Ennismore. She shuddered at the thought.
Surely there must be something about him that was not perfect, but she could think of nothing. As their relationship developed the previous summer, she had witnessed his gentleness, like the time he had struggled to free a frightened calf that had caught its head in a barbed wire fence, all the while reassuring the animal with soft whispers. Perhaps her brothers would have done the same, she allowed, but how many of Valentine’s gentry peers would have bothered? She loved his passion for the Ennis Estate – how he loved every blade of grass and every stone on it – and yet he did not begrudge his brother’s right to it. She admired his loyalty, and knew that he would lay down his life for any one of his family. And underneath his polite exterior she sensed a rebel, just like herself. She sighed. They were kindred souls, Valentine and she, caught between duty and freedom. For all that, the small voice still whispered that he was not meant for her – that he was beyond her grasp. But she shut it out, putting her hands over her ears so she would not hear it. She must not listen, or her dreams would vanish.
Valentine turned towards her and took her hand. ‘I would buy you all the dresses you wanted if I could, Rosie. But alas, like you, I am a pauper, except for what Papa begrudgingly doles out to me.’
Rosie nodded. She had no doubt of his sincerity. But what good were his words to her? A cloud of gloom had hovered over her for some weeks. She had tried to ignore it, but it kept returning. She did not want to think about the future. In a month from now Victoria would be gone and what would become of her? Even her request to Lady Louisa for a reference had been met with coldness.
‘Isn’t it enough that I stooped to teach you all these years, you ungrateful girl? How dare you demand more of me?’
Rosie had finally admitted the truth to herself. It was something much greater than missing the Season that plagued her. Rather, it was the reality that she could never now be satisfied with life as a tenant farmer’s daughter. She had tasted the world of the gentry, and God help her, she wanted to be one of them.
She took her hand away and looked directly into Valentine’s eyes.
‘At least you have your choice of what to do with your life – even if it’s not law or banking. You’ll still have money. Surely there’ll be plenty of other things that would suit you. ’Twill be your own fault if you let your so-called duty get in the way.’
She spoke more sharply than she had meant to and she regretted it at once. But he did not seem to take offence.
‘You’re right, Rosie. But alas, what would suit me would be to stay here and run the estate. I love this place more than I can say. I love the land, and the animals and the house itself.’ He gazed out across the garden towards the lake and Mount Nephin. ‘I love it in winter and in summer. I feel free here. I would waste away cooped up in a stuffy office in Dublin or London or elsewhere.’
‘I love it here, too,’ said Rosie.
They sa
t in silence for a while. Rosie thought how comfortable it was to sit with him and say nothing. They understood one another. The shock was that Valentine, the privileged son of the gentry, was lost just like herself.
‘There you are.’ Victoria walked towards them, waving her hand. ‘I had a frightful headache, but it’s gone now, thank goodness. What are you two talking about?’
‘We’ve been speaking of many things, dear sister, of cabbages and kings, just like the Walrus and the Carpenter,’ said Valentine referring to Lewis Carroll’s poem.
‘And why the sea is boiling hot; and whether pigs have wings,’ laughed Victoria. ‘I haven’t thought of that poem in years.’
‘But didn’t they trick the poor oysters?’ said Rosie. ‘Sure they lured them into their world and then they devoured them.’
The day that Rosie was dreading finally arrived. It was 1 June 1910, ten years to the day from when she had first met Victoria. She had wakened early that morning and considered not going near Ennismore at all, but she knew Victoria would be hurt if she did not come. Besides, she did not want to betray her jealousy that Victoria was off to a new glittering life and she was to be left behind. It wasn’t Victoria’s fault, she told herself, neither of them had asked to be born into the lives they had. God was responsible for that.
Now, as she got out of bed and dressed herself in one of her old school dresses, shabby from wear, she prayed for God’s help to get her through the day. When she approached Ennismore she saw the carriage outside. Brendan Lynch, the first footman, loaded two large trunks on to the back of it as the driver stood waiting in his black coat and top hat. As she approached, she saw Immelda Fox coming down the front steps carrying a small suitcase. Rosie assumed, as Lady Ennis’s maid, Immelda must be accompanying them.
‘Mama has leased a house in Merrion Square,’ Victoria had said. ‘Papa is very upset that she has spent the money to do so instead of staying with Aunt Marianne, but Mama says she will not have her interfering.’ Victoria giggled. ‘I think it would have been rather fun to have my aunt involved.’
The Girls of Ennismore Page 5
