The staff looked towards Mr Burke, waiting for his rebuke, but this time it did not come. Instead, he stared wearily down at his teacup and said nothing.
Mrs O’Leary stood up and reached for a clean apron from the cupboard. ‘Revolution, or no revolution,’ she said, ‘they’ll still be wanting their dinner.’
The rest of the staff drained their tea mugs and rose from the table.
‘Did you see the cut of the Rosie one?’ said Sadie. ‘I’d say life was good to her in Dublin. Did you see the dress she wore? Her ma said she’d been writing articles for a newspaper up there, but I’d say there’s more to it than that. I heard a rumour she’d been living up there with a man.’
‘That’s enough gossip, Sadie,’ said Mrs Murphy.
‘I suppose you’d like to see her back here down scrubbing on her hands and knees,’ said Immelda, glaring at Sadie. ‘Why shouldn’t a poor country girl like her do well for herself? She certainly did better than the Victoria one who had to come crawling back home the minute she took sick. I always said the Bell family was weak. And she proves me right.’
‘That’s enough!’ said Mrs Murphy.
But Immelda wasn’t finished. ‘Just because the likes of ye haven’t the gumption to make a better life for yourselves, you begrudge anyone that does. Well, as Anthony says, things are changing, and when the gentry are gone from this country where will that leave the rest of you? All you know is how to go down on your knees and lick the boots of them you think are better than you.’
‘I said that’s enough, Miss Fox,’ said Mrs Murphy again. ‘How dare you insult us in that manner? You will apologize this minute.’
‘Ah, I’d say she’s just poisoned with jealousy,’ said Sadie. ‘She wishes she’d been born into the gentry herself. Why else would she hate them so much?’
‘Brendan hated them too!’ said Immelda, her face red.
‘Not all of them,’ Sadie retorted. ‘He was very thick with one of them. For all we know he took up with her again in Dublin.’
‘Will ye whisht. There’s work to be done.’ Mrs O’Leary turned around, her hands on her hips. ‘I for one am not ashamed of the work I do for the Bell family, and the rest of you shouldn’t be either. There’s dignity in a hard day’s work, no matter what it is. And as for you, miss,’ she turned and glared down at Immelda, ‘you’d better watch yourself. If Lady Ennis ever heard your talk she’d throw you out on your arse. And then where would you go? I doubt they’d even take you back at the convent, except maybe as a skivvy.’
Mr Burke finally rose to his feet. ‘Well said, Mrs O’Leary.’ He turned to Immelda. ‘I will try to overlook your outburst, Miss Fox. We are none of us ourselves today after witnessing such a sad occasion. But if you so much as utter one more criticism of the Bell family in my presence I will see to it that you are dismissed without so much as a warning and any wages owed will be forfeited. Is that understood?’
Immelda glared back at Mr Burke with an almost imperceptible jerk of her head.
‘I think we’re going to be in for some great craic,’ Sadie whispered to Thelma as she and the others followed Mrs O’Leary into the kitchen.
CHAPTER 36
By late June, Victoria’s fever had passed and the doctor pronounced her well enough to leave her bed and venture outside into the garden for a couple of hours a day. At those times she sent word to Rosie and together they spent pleasant afternoons enjoying the sunshine and the brilliant colours of the garden.
‘It’s just like old times, isn’t it, Rosie?’ said Victoria, clutching Rosie’s hand as they sat together on their favourite bench.
‘Aye, there’s many’s a memory in this place. But it all seems a lifetime ago.’
Rosie looked around the garden. Despite the blooming flowers, it showed the same sad neglect as the crumbling stone and untrimmed grasses at the front of the house. The borders of the flower beds, once straight and precise as a diagram in a geometry book, now ran crooked and ragged. The boxwood hedges were uneven, and unrestrained weeds climbed mutinously up the stone walls around the perimeter, smothering the roses.
‘It’s the war,’ said Victoria, reading Rosie’s thoughts. ‘Almost all of the gardeners left to join up.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Aye, the war has changed everything.’
They lapsed into silence. Victoria allowed herself to picture Brendan sitting beside her in this garden and as he had looked the last night he kissed her in Dublin. She tried not to picture him lying alone in a cold, dark prison cell.
‘I’m sorry about Brendan,’ Rosie said.
‘He fought for what he believed in,’ said Victoria, looking out towards Mount Nephin which towered strong and dark above the lake. She turned to look at Rosie. ‘I know you didn’t much care for him, nor did my family or any of the staff, but none of you knew him the way I did. Beneath all of his roughness, he’s a gentle soul.’
Tears welled in her eyes and Rosie gently stroked her hand. ‘You still love him, don’t you?’
Victoria nodded. ‘Cathal once told me that it’s your heart not your head that will always decide who you love – and it will not be told different, no matter how much you argue with it.’
A tiny wren flew down and hopped on a stone urn beside them and Victoria smiled as she watched its antics. She stole a look at her friend. They had neither of them mentioned the agonizing week they had spent together in Dublin during the uprising. What mattered was that her friend was here again with her at Ennismore. Celine arrived to help Victoria inside. Victoria rose heavily, kissed Rosie on the cheek and left, leaning on Celine for support. Although her fever had passed, her energy had deserted her, and she needed help doing everything. The doctor had tut-tutted when she told him about her days and nights spent at the Union hospital, particularly during Easter week. It was no wonder, he said, that she was worn out.
By the beginning of July, however, while her energy had returned, Victoria began to suspect something else was wrong. She was ill almost every morning, and could hardly keep any food down, the smell of it alone sending her stomach churning. She implored Celine not to say anything to her family.
‘But if you are ill, mademoiselle, the doctor must be fetched tout de suite.’
‘Let’s not alarm them yet, Celine. I’m sure it will pass.’
As the summer days slipped by, however, Victoria finally admitted to herself that her earlier fever had nothing to do with her present condition. She was pregnant. Her emotions swung between feelings of dread and joy. She fretted constantly, asking herself the same questions over and over. What if the fever had harmed her unborn child? What would her family say? What would become of her in this condition? Who could she turn to for help? At other times she was thrilled at the thought of having part of Brendan to hold and love, imagining gazing into a tiny face so much like his.
Celine was as good as her word, betraying nothing even in the face of persistent questioning from Sadie.
‘Is Miss Victoria sick? She didn’t touch her breakfast again this morning. And when I brought the fish course in for lunch she raced out of the room as if the divil himself was after her. And when she came back in she was pale as a corpse.’
Celine simply shrugged and pretended not to understand.
Sadie Canavan was less circumspect than Celine, however, since it was not in her nature to ignore such a shocking development. She waited until the staff had finished dinner one evening and pounced, announcing the news dramatically to enhance the effect.
‘Miss Victoria is in the family way.’
She sat back and waited for the inevitable gasps and signs of the cross that followed. Thelma’s eyes widened as she stood, her plump white fingers frozen on a pitcher of water. Mrs Murphy put her hand to her mouth, while Mr Burke gulped on his glass of wine. Mrs O’Leary’s face turned scarlet and Anthony Walshe dropped his pipe. They all looked at Sadie in astonishment.
‘May God forgive you,’ said Mrs O’Leary, when she could find her voice. ‘You’ve
said some choice things in the past about this family, Sadie Canavan, but I can’t believe even you would stoop to such lies. I might have expected it from Immelda here, knowing how much she seems to resent Miss Victoria, but you . . . you . . .’ She halted, at a loss for words.
‘Don’t be bringing me into it,’ said Immelda.
Thelma found her voice. ‘How would you know, Sadie? Sure I thought expectant girls had big fat bellies, and Miss Victoria’s thin as a rail.’
Sadie smirked. ‘She won’t be for long, mark my words.’ She looked around at the others. ‘Don’t be blaming me, I’m just telling you what I’ve seen. She’s not touched her breakfast in weeks and she’s forever running out of the room to vomit. I’m surprised her ma or Lady Louisa haven’t caught on. I tried talking to that French one, but she pretends she doesn’t understand me.’
‘Where’s the husband?’ said Thelma, setting down her pitcher of water and giving Sadie her full attention.
Sadie shook her head. ‘Arrah, Thelma, did your ma teach you nothing? Sure a girl doesn’t need a husband to get pregnant. Any man will do.’
Thelma gasped and turned scarlet. ‘But that . . . that would be a . . . a mortal sin, so.’
‘I’d say I could take a good guess whose child it is,’ said Immelda.
‘You’ll keep your guesses to yourself, Immelda,’ said Mrs O’Leary. ‘Sure we could all guess till the cows come home and be none the wiser. If Sadie is right, and I’m not saying she is, only Miss Victoria knows for sure. And anyway, ’tis none of our business.’
Mr Burke finally stood up, his shoulders slouched from weariness. ‘I hardly know where to begin,’ he said. ‘I never thought I would live to witness such impertinence on the part of household staff members. I doubt there is any other house in Ireland with staff as undisciplined as some of you. Your behaviour causes me great shame.’ He looked at Sadie, Thelma and Immelda in turn. ‘If it were not for the alarming shortage of available staff, I would sack all of you this very minute. All I can do is implore you to keep this conversation to yourselves and not let it go beyond these walls.’
He nodded toward Mrs Murphy and together they walked out of the servants’ hall. Anthony watched them go. ‘Ye have all the fight knocked out of that poor man with your shenanigans. Ye should be ashamed of yourselves.’
Thelma blushed and slunk away into the kitchen while Sadie shrugged and headed towards the back stairs. Mrs O’Leary bustled out of the room, leaving Anthony and Immelda alone.
‘Well, colleen,’ Anthony said to her, ‘you’ve your wish now surely. You always wanted to see young Victoria get her comeuppance and now she has.’
Immelda set her mouth in a prim line. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re after talking about, Anthony.’
Victoria knew it was only a matter of time until her secret would become apparent to everyone. She had not yet begun to show and told herself she would be able to hide her condition for another three months. Once she had plucked up the courage she would confide in Rosie and together they would devise a plan for her future. The thought consoled her. But things did not proceed in the orderly way she had planned.
Her mother and Aunt Louisa approached her one afternoon as she sat alone in the garden. The grim set of their faces told her all she needed to know. Resolutely, she stood and waited for the onslaught.
‘Walk, Victoria,’ commanded her mother as she and Lady Louisa fell into step on either side of her, each carrying a colourful parasol. ‘For the benefit of the servants who are no doubt watching us you will smile as if we are having a pleasant exchange.’
Victoria did not attempt to speak. What would be the point? There was no denying the fact that she was pregnant. She should have realized secrets did not stay hidden for long at Ennismore.
‘My maid, Fox, has come to me with very disturbing news,’ began Lady Ennis, her fingers digging into the flesh of Victoria’s arm as they walked. ‘I told her of course that her allegations were preposterous. But now I hear that Louisa’s maid has told her the same thing. Can they both be wrong, Victoria? Deny it now and we can put an end to this nonsense.’
Victoria felt the blood rush from her face. She wished fervently that Rosie was there but she had gone with her mother on an errand into Crossmolina. If Immelda and Sadie were talking about her, then surely Rosie must have heard the gossip as well and everyone else in the house besides. Shame began to rise within her but she tamped it down. No, she would not let shame define what she and Brendan had created. They had conceived a child out of love – a child she must now protect and defend. She looked from her mother to Aunt Louisa.
‘It is true,’ she said.
Lady Louisa uttered an audible gasp while Lady Ennis’s hand tightened in a death grip on Victoria’s arm.
‘I hope I did not hear you correctly,’ Lady Ennis said, her voice trembling.
‘I said, it’s true, Mama. I am pregnant.’
Lady Ennis let go of her daughter and collapsed on the nearest bench, fanning herself furiously. She looked at her sister. ‘Fetch me a glass of water, Louisa. I fear I may faint.’
Lady Louisa merely grunted and sat down beside her. ‘I’m not leaving until we get to the bottom of this.’
Victoria stood looking down at the two women. For a moment she saw them only as two pathetic creatures clinging desperately to a way of life that was rapidly dying, and pitied them. But the feeling passed as she braced herself for what was to come.
‘And the father?’ Her mother’s voice was high and cracked as if bordering on hysteria.
‘Brendan Lynch.’
Lady Ennis stared at her daughter, open-mouthed. Victoria wondered if her mother had expected her to deny it, to make up some story about a British officer whom she had married in secret and who was killed in the uprising. And indeed Victoria had, in moments of panic, conjured up such a lie to tell when the time came. She had told herself the lie would serve as a protection for her family as well as herself. But now – now she realized such a lie would be traitorous not only to Brendan but to herself and her child.
Lady Louisa glared up at her, all pretence of pleasant conversation for the sake of the servants gone.
‘You hussy,’ she said. ‘You are no better than a common whore.’ She turned to her sister. ‘I told you she would come to a bad end. Who knows what she and that peasant girl were up to in Dublin?’
Lady Ennis dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘That Killeen girl,’ she said, ‘always that Killeen girl. We were all cursed from the day she came to Ennismore.’
‘Rosie has nothing to do with this,’ said Victoria, her temper rising. ‘I hardly saw her in Dublin. She didn’t even know about Brendan and me.’
‘A footman! How could you sink to that level, Victoria? And how could you shame us so?’
‘Where is he?’ said Lady Louisa. ‘Does he plan to make an honest woman of you?’
‘He’s in prison. He was arrested after the uprising.’
‘Thank God,’ said Lady Ennis. ‘He will undoubtedly be there for life. He will not be coming around to claim his offspring.’
The fact of Brendan’s imprisonment seemed to revive Lady Ennis. ‘In that case we have time to devise a plan – a story that will save us all from embarrassment. We will not be the first family to have to do so. But we must hurry. This news will not stay confined to Ennismore for very much longer.’
Before Victoria could answer, Lady Louisa shot to her feet. ‘You can’t possibly be thinking of letting her stay on here, Althea?’
‘What else do you propose we do, Louisa? We could send her to the Continent, but that would be too obvious. No, I think a story of a young woman, an officer’s wife perhaps, widowed by this awful war, will be much more plausible.’
Lady Louisa, red-faced with anger, spoke up. ‘And what of me, Althea? Am I to stay here at Ennismore and become governess to young Julian and this one’s bastard? Well, I shall not do it. I shall not.’
As Louisa flounced away, Lady Ennis
uttered a sharp laugh. ‘Poor Louisa,’ she said. ‘Where else is she to go?’
Victoria watched her mother gather up her fan and parasol and prepare to leave the garden. Suddenly she grabbed her mother’s arm, swinging her around to face her.
‘How dare you, Mama?’ she began. ‘How dare you expect me to lie about my child and deny this baby’s father? I won’t do it. I refuse to make up some ridiculous story just so you can save face. I am not ashamed of what I have done and will not act as if I am.’
Lady Ennis recovered herself from the shock of Victoria’s onslaught. ‘I am doing this to save your reputation, not mine, you foolish, ungrateful girl.’
Victoria shook her head. ‘No, Mama. Everything you do is for your sake. You don’t care who you hurt or embarrass as long as it suits your purposes. I have seen it too often, and this time is no different.’
Lady Ennis stepped closer to her daughter and fixed her with a glare. But as Victoria looked into her mother’s eyes she saw not anger, as she had expected, but panic – the sort of frenzied alarm one might see in the eyes of a rabbit caught in a trap.
‘But what will people say? How shall I face them?’ Her mother’s voice grew high-pitched.
‘I really don’t care, Mama,’ said Victoria as she walked away, leaving her mother staring after her.
Later that evening Victoria stood at her bedroom window listening to the gulls calling from the lake. Tonight their cries sounded plaintive. She wondered how she would endure the endless procession of long, light evenings still to come.
CHAPTER 37
One September afternoon Victoria sat alone in the garden enjoying the dwindling rays of summer sun. Without warning, a fierce rain squall whipped through the trees, sending leaves scattering and flattening flower heads against the ground. She closed her book, gathered her skirts and stood up. Her first instinct was to run to the house for shelter, but instead she found herself standing with her face turned up to the sky, letting the rain drench her face and hair. She laughed aloud, remembering how Rosie and she had danced in the rain as children, ignoring commands from Lady Louisa to go inside. She wanted to dance now, but the thought of servants’ prying eyes stopped her.
The Girls of Ennismore Page 31
