By the time she reached her bedroom she was drenched, water dripping from her clothes and leaving puddles on the carpet.
‘Celine?’ she called. ‘Can you fetch some towels? I am soaked.’
A noise in the adjoining dressing room sent her in that direction. ‘Celine, can you . . .’
Victoria’s mouth dropped open. ‘Miss Fox, what are you doing?’
Immelda Fox, clad in one of Victoria’s gowns, swung around from a mirror, where she had been gazing at herself. Hurriedly she unhooked the back, pushing the dress roughly down over her hips and stepping out of it. Without looking at Victoria she lifted the garment and began to smooth it. Victoria saw that her hands were trembling.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked again.
Immelda turned and looked at her, her eyes blazing with defiance.
‘I was just seeing if it could be let out,’ she said, looking pointedly at Victoria’s stomach. ‘Your mother suggested it. She knows I’m good with a needle.’
Victoria looked at the daybed where a pile of her dresses lay. ‘Nonsense. My mother suggested no such thing. Besides, these are my summer gowns. I shall not be wearing them again until after my child is born. There would be no need to alter them.’ She paused. ‘Where is Celine?’
‘The French one? She’s below in the kitchen drinking tea where she always is. Good-for-nothing foreigner.’
Victoria’s nerves had been on edge for some time. Her usually calm demeanour disappeared and an unfamiliar agitation had taken hold. Now fury seized her. ‘How dare you speak of Celine that way? Apologize at once!’
Immelda muttered something under her breath and made to leave, pushing her way past her. But Victoria put out a hand to stop her.
‘You will stay here until you have explained yourself.’
She crossed to the bedroom door and locked it. ‘You will not leave this room until you do. Sit!’
Her anger shocked Immelda into sitting down on a chair.
Victoria’s racing heartbeat began to slow as she observed Immelda. She had long been suspicious of her mother’s maid. She could feel her hatred every time their eyes met. Brendan had said she despised all the Bell family, but Victoria always sensed that most of it was directed at her. Now, as she looked at the woman’s dark, angry eyes, her pale gaunt face, she noticed for the first time how much she had aged. She must be past thirty, she thought. Gradually, her anger began to subside.
A sudden clap of thunder startled them and they both turned towards the window. Heavy, black clouds hung in the sky as if the afternoon had suddenly become night. Immelda made the sign of the cross.
‘’Tis God’s judgment upon us,’ she muttered.
‘Why do you hate me so, Immelda?’ said Victoria.
Immelda did not answer.
‘You needn’t deny it.’ Victoria’s voice was calmer now. ‘I should like to know what I’ve done to you.’
Again, Immelda was silent.
Victoria sighed. ‘If it’s my dresses you want you are welcome to them. I doubt I shall be wearing such finery in the future. You need only have asked me. There was no need to try and steal them.’
‘I wasn’t—’ Immelda began.
‘You were, Immelda. Let’s not have any more lies.’
Immelda bowed her head. Then she looked up at Victoria, her normally pale face suffused with crimson.
‘I was only trying them on to see how they’d look on me,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘By rights they should be mine. Whatever you have, I should be entitled to the same thing. I’m just as good as you are.’
‘I’m sure you are, Immelda,’ said Victoria gently, ‘but God arranged for us to be born into very different circumstances.’
‘Leave God out of this!’
‘I realize it’s not fair. None of us should be judged by the families we were born into. But that is the way of the world. And the poor stealing from the rich is not the way to fix the unfairness.’
‘The rich steal from the poor every day of the week.’
‘Yes, and those who do so are wrong. But it still does not excuse you. Rosie was born poor as well, but as far as I know she never stole from me, and she never envied me.’
As she said the words, Victoria realized that Rosie had indeed envied her often. She hurried on. ‘And Brendan had every reason in the world to hate us – to hate me – and yet he loves me. I doubt that your reasons for such hostility could be any greater than his.’
Without warning Immelda began to sob, her thin shoulders heaving up and down. A wave of pity overtook Victoria and she went over to where the girl sat and placed her hand on her shoulder. Immelda flinched and shrank away as if unused to human touch.
‘It’s all right, Immelda. I understand why you would want some pretty dresses to wear. And you can have any of them that you wish. The rose and the blue would look lovely on you. And we will keep this between ourselves. No one need know of it.’
Immelda looked up at Victoria, her eyes wide, and let out a deep sigh. ‘Ah, ’tis not the dresses I want,’ she said. ‘’Twas never about the dresses.’
‘Then what was it, Immelda?’
‘’Twas about seeing you grow up doted on by your family, especially your da. You were the apple of his eye. His one and only daughter.’
Immelda looked up at her, tears filling her eyes. She seemed to be struggling to say something. Victoria waited.
‘But you’re not the only daughter. Don’t you see? I’m his daughter too.’
Before Victoria could speak, Immelda rushed on. ‘He took advantage of my ma when she was a maid here. Then he sent her off without so much as a penny. She thought it was all her fault. She spent the rest of her life punishing herself, and me, for her sin. Well it wasn’t just her sin, ’twas his as well.’
‘What?’ Victoria turned pale and sat down on the bed. ‘Please don’t lie like this, Immelda. I have given you what you want.’
Immelda composed herself. ‘Only your da can give me what I want. He can admit that I’m his daughter. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
All that night Victoria tossed and turned. She tried to tell herself the maid had lied just to hurt her, which would certainly fit with her pattern of deceit. But something deep down convinced her the maid told the truth. She tried to recall Immelda’s face in detail. Did it bear any similarity to her own? She could think of no resemblance between them in structure, colouring or expression. In an odd way she was disappointed. How often she had yearned for a sister when she was very young. Later, Rosie had more than filled that role, but still – a sister of her own would have brought such joy.
As the night crept on, however, such benign thoughts left her and her initial shock at Immelda’s story returned. She thought of her father. Men like him frequently had their way with servant girls and took mistresses – Victoria was not naive enough to believe otherwise. But to bring his illegitimate daughter to live in the same house, under the very noses of his family – how could he? She tried to recall if there were ever any hints of a secret relationship between her father and Immelda but she could remember none. In fact, her father had treated Immelda the way he did all the staff, as if she were invisible. Was it possible he had not even recognized her? Had their fates been reversed, would he have ignored her in the same way he did Immelda?
By morning she had made up her mind to confront her father. But her mother struck first.
‘Immelda Fox tells me you accused her of stealing,’ said Lady Ennis as soon as Victoria entered the room. ‘That woman has been in my employ for years and I trust her implicitly. She is as close to a saint as anyone in this house.’
Victoria was speechless. Her mother’s attack had knocked her completely off balance. She stood gaping at her in disbelief.
‘The poor woman is most overwrought,’ her mother went on. ‘She is afraid she will be dismissed. Well, I will not allow it, Victoria. You will apologize to her immediately.’
Victoria could not move. She looked
from her mother to her father, his head buried, as usual, in his newspaper. Lady Louisa put down her fork and regarded her scornfully while Sofia continued eating as if everything were normal. Victoria had long since recovered from her morning sickness, but now the smell of bacon and kippers made her feel ill. She fought to keep down the bile that rose in her throat. Instead of taking her seat at the table she turned to Sadie Canavan who was laying out dishes on the sideboard.
‘You will leave us now, Miss Canavan, and close the door behind you. Do not return until you are summoned.’
Sadie stared at Victoria.
‘Now, Miss Canavan!’
Sadie dropped a plate of scones onto the sideboard and hurried out of the room as Lady Ennis glared at her daughter.
‘What on earth . . .’ she began.
Victoria took a deep breath. She had not meant to confront her father in front of everyone, but her mother had left her no choice. ‘The matter of the dresses is insignificant, Mama. Immelda told me something last evening that I found shocking. At first I did not believe her, but upon consideration I am convinced she was telling the truth.’ She turned and looked directly at her father. ‘She told me that you seduced her mother who was a maid here. She claims that you, Papa, are her father, that she and I are sisters.’
A stranger entering the breakfast room at that moment might have supposed he had come upon a wax tableau, the figures sitting around the dining table frozen in the act of eating – forks suspended in the air, rigid fingers gripping teacups, mouths agape. Only the blonde young woman standing in the middle of the room showed any signs of life, perspiration covering her forehead, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her hands clenched in fists at her side.
Lady Ennis recovered first, rising to her feet in such a fury that she set the china rattling on the table. ‘This is preposterous, Victoria! Your condition has brought you to the verge of madness. First you accuse Fox of stealing, and now this. How dare you? Take it back this minute!’
Victoria steadied her breathing and stood her ground.
‘I may be pregnant, Mama, but there is nothing wrong with my mind. I know what I heard.’
Lady Louisa looked pointedly from Lord Ennis to her sister. ‘Then why not hear it from the horse’s mouth? Why don’t we fetch Fox? Ring for her at once, Althea.’
Victoria looked at her father, who glared back at her with a face like thunder. She had never seen him so enraged, looking as if he might strike her. For a moment she wondered if she had misunderstood what Immelda had said, or had imagined the whole thing. But the look of fury on his face told her she had not.
Immelda Fox came into the room and curtsied in front of Lady Ennis.
‘You wanted to see me, my lady?’ she said, her face expressionless.
Lady Ennis made an effort to collect herself. ‘My daughter has told us of a conversation she had with you last evening, Fox.’
‘About the dresses, my lady?’ Immelda’s tone was innocent, but she glanced slyly at Victoria as she spoke.
Lady Ennis waved her arms in exasperation. ‘No, not the dresses.’ She paused and drew in a deep breath. ‘She tells us you accused Lord Ennis of being your father. Something about a liaison with your mother when she was a maid here. Oh, it is all too distressing.’ Lady Ennis, unable to go on, sat down.
Immelda looked from Lady Ennis to Victoria and made the sign of the cross. ‘May God forgive you, Miss Victoria, for telling such awful lies!’ She looked around at the others with a pained expression. ‘I am a poor girl who spent much of her life in the convent. My da died before I was born.’ She paused to wipe away tears. ‘Please don’t dismiss me over such lies, my lady.’
As Immelda spoke Victoria watched her father. He stared hard at the maid as if seeing her for the first time.
When Immelda left, Victoria turned to her mother. ‘She is lying, Mama. I know what she told me.’
Before her mother could answer, Lord Ennis rose to his feet and roared at Victoria. ‘Get out of my sight now! Have you not caused enough pain and embarrassment in this house?’
Victoria fled from the room, fighting to hold back her tears. Her father had never before spoken to her in that manner. Sofia excused herself and hurried out behind her. Lady Ennis turned to her sister.
‘What have I done wrong, Louisa? What has changed my sweet, obedient daughter into such a monster? Why is she punishing me so? If I believed any of the ridiculous sayings of the native Irish, I would say a devil has taken possession of her.’
Lady Louisa gave Lord Ennis a suspicious look. ‘Perhaps Victoria is not lying. How else would such a story have entered her head? There’s another old saying, Thea: where there’s smoke there’s fire.’
Lord Ennis waited until Louisa had left the room. ‘Dismiss that maid immediately, Althea,’ he said. ‘No doubt the other servants will soon hear the accusations – nothing much ever seems to get past them. I will not tolerate being the object of their vile speculation. The sooner she goes the sooner this will be forgotten. Do not oppose me in this, Althea.’
Anthony Walshe came into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of tea and sat down at the table.
‘Well, that’s her away then.’
Mrs O’Leary closed the oven door and wiped her hands on her apron. She brought a cup of tea over and sat down next to him.
‘How did she seem? Did she say anything?’
Anthony shook his head. ‘Not a word. Sat up in the cart beside me, still as a statue. She didn’t even so much as look at me until we got to Crossmolina. Then she had me leave her off in the middle of the square.’
‘But where was she going from there?’
Anthony shrugged. ‘I told you, she never said a word to me. I hated to leave the girl alone like that, looking like a lost sheep. But she waved me on. What was I to do?’
‘Arrah, poor Immelda,’ said Mrs O’Leary. ‘You have to feel sorry for her all the same. She has no family that I know of. Maybe that convent will take her back.’
‘And maybe they won’t. In that case I’d say she’d be for the workhouse.’
Mrs O’Leary shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t wish that on a dog, Anthony. ’Tis true I never warmed to the girl, but I wouldn’t wish that on her.’ She paused and sipped her tea. ‘Ah, maybe she’ll get work somewhere. She has plenty of experience, and she’s very handy with a needle.’
‘She’ll get no work without a letter of reference, and I’d say that’s the last thing his lordship will be giving her.’
The house was quiet as the two sat alone in the kitchen.
‘I wouldn’t say this in front of Sadie,’ Mrs O’Leary said, leaning over towards Anthony, ‘or it would be all over the village, but I lay in bed last night thinking back over the years, and you know I believe I remember Immelda’s ma.’
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
‘Aye, there was a young girl working here named Mary Fox. Would have been thirty or more years ago now. Lovely looking little colleen she was. I remember she was sent away in disgrace after only a few months. When Immelda came to work here I never passed any remarks. Fox is such a common name in these parts.’
‘’Tis indeed,’ said Anthony.
‘But if that girl was her mother, why on earth would his lordship have taken on Immelda?’
Anthony lit his pipe. ‘No mystery there, Mrs O. Sure himself probably never even knew the mother’s name. You know the way of things with the likes of them – one night’s toss in the hay and then ’tis on to the next one.’
‘You’re right there. God save us. Mary Fox wouldn’t be the first girl to be sent away on account of a master, and she won’t be the last. And ’tis the innocent babies that suffer. Ah, poor Immelda. I wish I’d been better to her.’
Mrs O’Leary drained her tea and stood up. ‘I’d best be seeing to the supper. Although after all that’s happened here – first Miss Victoria falling into the family way, and now this terrible business with Immelda – you’d think none of them would have any appet
ite left.’
Anthony stood and tamped out his pipe with his finger. ‘’Tis powerful bad days that’s in it altogether. They say these things come in threes. On my oath there’ll be more trouble before ’tis over.’
Mrs O’Leary sighed. ‘May God save us all, Anthony.’
CHAPTER 38
The seeds of discord sown throughout the summer ripened and spread to every corner of Ennismore. Suspicion, anger and resentment permeated every conversation. Food spoiled and milk turned sour at alarming rates. Even the birds seemed to cease their chatter. And while the weather was mild, a chill that would not lift clung to the house. Lady Ennis took to locking her bedroom door, leaving her husband to sleep in his study. Lady Louisa, having lately perceived a sliver of weakness in the Reverend Watson’s reluctance to marry her, had begun to press her advantage robustly by making more and more frequent visits to the local rectory. Sofia spent most of her time in the nursery with young Julian, while Lord Ennis found as many excuses as possible to absent himself to London. Victoria spent long, lonely days in her room, asking Celine to bring meals to her rather than face her family in the dining room. Any pretence of normality among the Bell family frayed like an old cloth until it was finally discarded.
It was into this atmosphere that Valentine Bell innocently blundered one late September afternoon when he appeared at the kitchen door unexpected and unannounced.
‘Lord Valentine,’ cried Mr Burke, rushing toward him. ‘I fear I did not hear the doorbell. Forgive me.’
Valentine shrugged. ‘Nothing to forgive, Mr Burke. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I came around to the kitchen.’
Mrs O’Leary and the other servants joined Mr Burke. They stared at Valentine, assessing him for injury. What else could have brought him home from the army so soon with the war still raging? And where was his uniform?
The Girls of Ennismore Page 32
