Immelda approached Rosie and nodded.
‘Fine day, thank God,’ she said, setting down her bag. ‘A grand day to travel, so.’
‘Have you been to Dublin before?’ asked Rosie, making nervous conversation.
‘Me? Sure how would the likes of me ever get the chance to go to a place like Dublin?’
‘Well, I just thought . . . you know, Lady Ennis has travelled to Dublin many times.’
‘Aye, well she did it without me. She used one of the Lady Marianne’s maids. This time she wants me with her since she’ll have her own house. And I’ll be expected to do for Miss Victoria as well.’
Rosie detected a biting undertone in Immelda’s voice.
‘Ah, Rosie, there you are. I was so afraid you might not come to see me off.’
Victoria ran down the front steps of Ennismore, her arms outstretched. She looked radiant in a two-piece dove-grey travelling costume and matching hat. Her blonde hair was swept up and she looked quite grown-up. She’s no longer a child, Rosie thought to herself. I suppose neither of us is.
‘And why wouldn’t I come?’ said Rosie with a brightness she didn’t feel. ‘Isn’t my best friend in the whole world going off on a great adventure?’
Victoria enfolded Rosie in a tight hug. ‘Isn’t it thrilling?’ she said. ‘I shall write to you every day, Rosie, and tell you all about my adventures. Oh, I can’t wait.’
Victoria’s happiness was contagious. Rosie smiled at her friend, and hugged her in return. ‘Have a brilliant time, Victoria. And I want to hear all about it.’ She paused. ‘I’ll miss you,’ she whispered.
A cloud passed over Victoria’s blue eyes. ‘I’ll miss you too, Rosie. I do wish you could come with me.’
Rosie nodded. ‘And me.’
The girls stood, locked in each other’s gaze.
‘Victoria! Come along, say goodbye to your father and get in the carriage.’
Lady Ennis bustled down the steps followed by her husband and Lady Louisa. She swept past Rosie, ignoring her. At the bottom of the steps Victoria hugged her aunt and then her father, who wiped away a tear. Then she ran to the carriage and climbed in, helped by Brendan Lynch. As Rosie watched, she had an idle thought that he held on to Victoria’s elbow for longer than was necessary, only letting go when a sullen-looking Immelda shoved him aside to climb in.
Valentine was the last to arrive. Rosie watched him as he ambled down the front steps, his long stride graceful and fluid. He bowed to his father who gave him a curt nod. When he approached Rosie he stopped and smiled.
‘Wish me luck, Rosie,’ he said. ‘No doubt Papa’s waiting for me to fail as an escort too.’ Then he added in a whisper, ‘I will be back as soon as I can.’
Rosie blushed and bowed her head. She said nothing.
The carriage kicked up dust and gravel as the horses cantered around the drive and out to the path that led to the main gate. Victoria leaned out of the window waving furiously. Rosie, Lord Ennis and Lady Louisa stood in silence waving back. Then Lord Ennis nodded at Rosie, took Lady Louisa’s arm, and together they turned and went back up the steps and into Ennismore. The front door thudded shut behind them.
PART TWO
SEPARATION
1910–1912
CHAPTER 5
‘No,’ Rosie cried, sitting straight up in bed. ‘No!’
Her ma rushed up to her bedroom. ‘What on earth’s wrong with you, child?’ she said, holding a candle close to Rosie.
She touched her daughter’s face. ‘You’ve a terrible fever on you. Did you take sick?’
Rosie looked from her mother to the small window beside her bed and back again. She rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh, Ma, I had an awful dream. I was running after Victoria’s coach and when it stopped and the coachman turned around he had no head, and he tried to get me to go with him, and . . .’
‘Ssh now, darlin’. Sure it was only a bad dream.’
‘But what did it mean? Am I going to die?’
‘Not at all,’ said Ma. ‘Sure we’ve all heard too many stories about headless horsemen and the like. ’Tis a wonder all of us haven’t died of fright.’ She pulled the quilt up over Rosie. ‘Go back to sleep now, daughter, I’ll sit with you for a while. You’re just worried about young Victoria, that’s all. And you’re sad that she’s gone away. That’s all it is.’
‘Aye, Ma. Goodnight.’
As things turned out it was not Rosie but Bridie who fell sick. Shortly after Victoria’s departure to Dublin, she began to cough. The symptoms were mild at first, but one day she collapsed on the floor of the library in Ennismore. The other maids brought her down to the servants’ hall and gave her laudanum to bring her round. Mrs Murphy, the housekeeper, insisted Bridie go up to bed and rest. But the next day she was so weak she could hardly stand up. Brendan brought the cart around and drove her home to the Killeen cottage, where the doctor was sent for. He pronounced that she had a severe case of pneumonia and ordered a month of bed rest.
‘The girl is worn out,’ the doctor told her mother. ‘She needs a rest, or she’ll have no strength to fight this.’
‘But I can’t lose me job,’ said Bridie. ‘The whole house has to be cleaned top to bottom while Lady Ennis is away for the summer. They need me up there. And if I’m gone for too long there’s plenty of girls in the village waiting to take my place.’
Bridie tried to climb out of bed, but the doctor and her mother restrained her. ‘Pay heed to the doctor, Bridie,’ said her ma, ‘and follow his orders.’
‘But what about me job?’ said Bridie again. ‘We need me wages.’
‘Don’t be worrying your head about that now, we’ll be grand.’
Rosie listened from the doorway. While there was no love lost between herself and Bridie, she felt sorry for her sister all the same. It would be a terrible blow if she lost her job. She wasn’t fit for anything else. She’d not even finished at the village school before she went to work as a maid. And she was going on twenty-five and no sign of her getting married.
Rosie hadn’t realized how much her family depended on Bridie’s wages. Hearing her ma’s worried voice now, she knew that it was going to cause hardship. A small voice whispered in her head that it had nothing to do with her. She had been thinking of what she must do now that Victoria was gone. She couldn’t stay at home forever without earning her keep. And she had no intention of ever setting foot in Ennismore again. She would have to go away, she decided. But where to? She had no money. She was well-educated, yes, but had no trade and without the money to take her to Dublin or even out of Ireland she was stuck here.
Rosie sighed. She’d hoped she would have longer to make a plan. She had thought she might speak to Valentine about things when he returned. But Bridie’s illness had interfered. Annoyance filled her. If she didn’t know better she’d have believed Bridie did this on purpose. Hadn’t her sister been pestering her all the years since she had gone for lessons with Victoria? Hadn’t she tried to make her life miserable at every turn? Well it wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair at all.
She slipped out the door of the cottage and breathed in the fresh air. Her old dog, Rory, limped up and began to walk alongside her. As she climbed the steep fields at the back of the cottage, tall grasses tapped against her bare legs and the wind tossed her hair. She felt cleansed and free as she walked, the cloying odours of Bridie’s sickroom receding far below her. When she reached the large boulder where she had played as a child, she sat down on the grass and leaned against it, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. From here she could see Ennismore, with Lough Conn shining in the distance and Mount Nephin wrapped in wispy clouds, and beyond that the vast expanse of black bog that reached to the sea.
Her guilt grew by the day as she saw how the loss of Bridie’s wages was affecting her family. At first Ma had insisted that nothing had changed, but small things began to reveal the truth. Her oldest brother was told there’d be no new boots or schoolbag this year, which meant there were not even h
and-me-downs for the two younger ones. Da said he’d given up tobacco because he’d lost his taste for it; and eggs no longer appeared on the breakfast table.
‘Porridge will have to do ye,’ Ma had said. ‘I can get a good price for the eggs in the village.’
The truth of their predicament had begun to loom large.
‘What am I to do, Rory?’ Rosie said to the dog as he lay panting on the grass beside her. ‘I’d die rather than take Bridie’s place up there. That’s even if they would take me on. I’m sure I have few friends among the staff. And I won’t go begging to them, either.’
She closed her eyes and inhaled the smells of the rugged grasses and riotous wildflowers that surrounded her. ‘Please God, make Bridie better in the morning,’ she whispered, blessing herself.
But Bridie was not better in the morning, or the next, or the next. It seemed the doctor was right – she would need a long rest to overcome the illness that had beset her. The oldest daughter of the Killeen family, called Nora, who was seldom mentioned, had died of pneumonia when she was fifteen, and the spectre of her ghost came back to haunt the cottage. The family tiptoed about for fear of disturbing Bridie. Even Rosie’s brothers spoke in whispers.
‘I suppose it’s time I was going up to the Big House to ask for Bridie’s job,’ said Rosie, when she could stand the guilt no longer.
Ma turned to her. ‘Ah no, love,’ she said. ‘Sure the last place you belong is down on your knees scrubbing floors.’
‘We need the money, Ma. And Bridie needs me to hold her place for her.’
In the end it was settled, and on the following Monday morning Rosie put on a pair of old boots and Bridie’s uniform and left the cottage. She walked as if she were going to a funeral, dread mounting with her every step. She remembered the innocence of the first day she had approached the Big House, filled with childish fear mixed with wonder at what adventure awaited her. But no adventure awaited her now – only drudgery at best, and humiliation at worst. She went around the back of the house to the kitchen door. Mrs O’Leary pulled her inside as soon as she saw her.
‘Is it Bridie?’ she said, her voice filled with alarm.
‘No, Mrs O’Leary,’ said Rosie. ‘She’s still very weak, but the doctor says with rest she should pull through.’
Mrs O’Leary blessed herself. ‘Thanks be to God.’
‘Mrs O’Leary,’ said Rosie, ‘I’ve come to take Bridie’s place until she recovers. She’s afraid she’ll lose her job if she’s away too long.’
The cook looked down at Rosie, her keen blue eyes travelling over the uniform and apron and down to the well-worn boots. She shook her head. ‘Sure what do you know about housekeeping, Roisin? You’ve not dirtied your hands since the day the Queen herself came to Ennismore.’
Mrs O’Leary’s tone was not unkind and Rosie took the opportunity to press her case. ‘Please, Mrs O’Leary. I know I’ve no experience, but I’m a farmer’s daughter, after all. I still clean out the chicken pens every morning and I milk the cows when I’m needed. And Ma says I’m a great hand at baking. Please give me a chance. I’ll show you how hard I can work. Would you do it for Bridie’s sake?’
Mrs O’Leary sighed and rocked back and forth on her tiny feet. ‘If it was up to me, love, I’d give you the chance. But it’s Mrs Murphy you’ll have to convince. She’s in charge of the maids. I can’t promise you what she’ll say, but if you’re polite and tell her you’re doing it for Bridie she might give in to you. She’s very fond of Bridie.’
Mrs Murphy was harder to convince than she had expected. She told Rosie that she doubted if Mr Burke, the butler, would approve on the grounds that having her in a servant’s position would upset the clear lines between staff and gentry.
‘But Mrs O’Leary says it’s you has final say over the housekeeping staff,’ said Rosie, desperate to plead her case while showing Mrs Murphy respect.
A faint smile played on Mrs Murphy’s lips. She paused before answering. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like a life time to Rosie. At last she said, ‘I am a fair woman, Miss Killeen, and I know how much this means to your family and to Bridie. I shall give you a try for a week. I will tolerate no slacking. And you will not put yourself above any of the other servants. As the newest member of the staff you will take your lead from them. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Mrs Murphy! Thank you Mrs Murphy!’
Two hours later Rosie was down on her knees scrubbing the front steps of Ennismore. As she scrubbed, a torrent of feelings flooded through her. What would she do if Valentine were to come upon her in this state? What would he think of the cut of her in the apron and cap and old boots? What if Victoria came back before Bridie returned and found her friend transformed into a servant? After all she had said to her about never becoming a servant at Ennismore or anywhere else – well she wouldn’t blame Victoria if she laughed in her face. With each thought she scrubbed harder until her hands were red and blistered.
It was agreed that Rosie would live in at Ennismore, with only Wednesday and Sunday afternoons off. She was not even allowed to run down to her own cottage when things were a bit slow, or sleep there the odd night. Bridie had earned that right because of the years she had served at the Big House. Rosie was to be afforded no such leniency. She was disappointed. She had hoped to escape from the place and sleep in her own bed some of the nights. But her work called for her to be up before dawn to clean the grates and light the fires – even in the summer months the old house was cold. And on top of it all, to Rosie’s horror, she was to share a room with the red-haired maid, Sadie Canavan.
‘Sure I can’t believe my good luck,’ said a smiling Sadie when she came into the bedroom and found Rosie lying under the thin covers of a narrow iron bed. ‘If it isn’t the likes of the high and mighty Miss Rosie Killeen herself come to grace me with her company? Who would ever have believed it?’
Rosie said nothing as Sadie kept up a stream of sarcasm. She was obviously delighted at Rosie’s downfall. ‘Just wait ’till I tell Lady Louisa. I’d say she’ll be as shocked at the rest of us with this turn of events. But she always said you were just a jumped-up wee peasant girl. She never liked you.’
Rosie turned her back to Sadie and pretended to be asleep, determined to give her no satisfaction. When Sadie finally gave up and went to sleep, Rosie opened her eyes and sighed. How was she going to put up with this? Once more she silently cursed Bridie, and then blessed herself for the sin. She cursed Victoria for going off and leaving her, although she knew there was no choice. She cursed all the gentry that had ever been born. And lastly she cursed God for causing her to be born into poverty. When her anger subsided she slipped out of bed and knelt and asked the same God to forgive her for her wicked thoughts.
CHAPTER 6
The humiliation Rosie received at the hands of the servants was nothing to what she heaped onto herself. With every sweep of the broom, or rub of the cloth, or shovel of the ashes, she despised herself even more. The work was hard but she could have stood that if she’d been an ordinary tenant farmer’s child who left the village school and went up to work at the Big House, just as Bridie had. But she was not just an ordinary tenant farmer’s child – not any more. She had seen too much. She had enjoyed the touch of her fingers on dainty china cups, and the pleasure of French vowels rolling in her throat, and the fresh scent of laundered white linens. She had enjoyed the restful pleasures of walks in the walled garden, picnics beside the lake, and the exhilaration of riding the finest horses across the countryside.
Why should she not be angry with God for showing her a glimpse of this fine life and then thrusting her back into such drudgery? And she was! But she was even angrier with herself for having believed that such a life could one day be hers. Bridie was right all along – she had been a foolish girl to think that someone from her station could ever cross that line that separated the classes.
One evening at dinner in the servants’ hall Sadie informed her that Valentine was due back
any day. He had been away for several weeks in Dublin visiting Thomas and escorting Victoria on outings. Rosie tried hard not to blush at the mention of his name but with no success. She realized that the servants had seen her walking with Valentine and drawn their own conclusions. A prickly heat covered her cheeks and throat as she bowed her head and tried to ignore all of the faces turned towards her.
‘I wonder what he’ll say when he sees you dressed up like a servant?’ said Sadie.
‘I am a servant,’ muttered Rosie.
‘Aye, so you are.’
The first footman, Brendan, regarded her thoughtfully.
‘Now we’ll find out whose side you’re on,’ he said.
‘What do you mean? I’m on nobody’s side.’
‘You’re either on the gentry’s side, or you’re on our side,’ said Brendan.
Rosie fought back hot tears. She stood up. ‘I don’t know whose feckin’ side I’m on,’ she shouted at Brendan. ‘I don’t know where I belong. Are you satisfied now?’ She drew a deep breath. ‘May I go now, Mr Burke?’
Mr Burke nodded. ‘I think that would be prudent, Miss Killeen. You appear overwrought. I have not heard such language from you before, and I do not wish to hear it again.’
‘So much for her refined manners,’ Rosie heard Sadie laugh as she rushed out of the room and up to bed.
As she tossed and turned she could not get Brendan’s question out of her mind. She had never thought about things this way before – servants on one side, gentry on the other. Was the separation of the classes as stark – and as simple – as that? She pondered the thought all night and by the time she crept into Valentine’s bedroom the next morning to light the fire, she brought all her frustration with her. As she knelt over the hearth, her head echoed with memories of Brendan’s question. He was right, she thought, I need to take a side.
‘Rosie? Is that you? What are you doing here?’
The Girls of Ennismore Page 6
