The Secret Hours

by Santa Montefiore

  Arethusa sighed. ‘I could do a lot worse, I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, he’s very handsome,’ gushed Hazel.

  ‘Very handsome indeed,’ echoed Laurel.

  ‘A little on the ruddy side,’ said Rupert. ‘But he’ll improve with age. Most men do.’

  ‘What do you know of improving with age?’ Arethusa asked.

  Rupert gave a sniff. ‘I have an aesthetic eye,’ he replied. ‘I appreciate the way things look.’

  ‘Do you appreciate the way Ronald looks?’ Arethusa asked, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

  ‘Not really,’ he replied in a lofty voice. ‘He’s too pink, too porky and too pinguid.’

  Arethusa threw her head back and roared with laughter. It was so loud and ungainly that everyone in the room turned to look at her, including Ronald, who was more than a little irritated to have his story interrupted. Arethusa put her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle it, but her shoulders continued to shudder rebelliously. The Shrubs looked like they’d just been bitten, but Rupert grinned down at his sister, pleased to have induced so gratifying a reaction.

  ‘My dear, it’s not very ladylike to laugh like that,’ said Poppy, relieving her sisters who fled to the sofa, where they were shortly joined by Cynthia Millet, the Rector’s wife, who laughed discreetly, as ladies should.

  ‘It’s Rupert’s fault, Aunt Poppy,’ said Arethusa, catching her brother’s eye and giggling again.

  ‘Perhaps you should go and talk to Ronald, Tussy. Rupert, my dear, I want to talk to you. Have you finished that book of poetry you’ve been writing?’

  Arethusa left them to discuss poetry and wandered over to Ronald, who was just finishing his anecdote.

  ‘And that was the end of a very sorry affair,’ he said.

  The Rector shook his head. ‘What an extraordinary tale,’ he exclaimed. ‘Quite extraordinary.’

  ‘Served the lad right! The fool!’ Greville exclaimed, knocking back his whiskey. ‘He’ll never do that again.’

  ‘Never do what again?’ interrupted Arethusa.

  Ronald settled his glistening eyes onto her and all she could think of was ‘pink, porky and pinguid’ and had to bite her tongue in order not to laugh again. Good Lord, she thought, if I have to wake up to that every morning I’ll laugh myself into an early grave! ‘What was it that so amused you, Tussy?’ he asked. ‘I should like to hear it.’

  ‘It was nothing. Just a silly joke between brother and sister,’ she replied.

  ‘Better than the two of you arguing, which is what we have to suffer most of the time,’ said her grandfather. ‘Reverend, let me show you that letter. It’s in the library.’ The two men left Ronald and Arethusa alone, quite deliberately, Arethusa knew.

  Ronald leaned towards her and said in a low voice, ‘You look very beautiful tonight, Tussy, if I may say so.’

  ‘Thank you, Ronald,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been outside in the spring air,’ she added, thinking of Dermot’s hand on her thigh. ‘It does wonders for the complexion.’

  ‘Will you ride out with me tomorrow? I’ve bought a new mare and I’d like to show her to you.’

  Arethusa couldn’t think of a good enough reason to refuse, although she didn’t much like riding (she’d rather walk), or the fact that her parents insisted she take Charlotte with her as chaperone. However, Ronald believed her to be an enthusiastic horsewoman, like her mother and all the other Deverills, both male and female, so she did not want to disappoint him.

  ‘I’d like that, thank you,’ she replied. ‘I’d love to see your new mare.’

  ‘She’s a fine filly. She really is. Takes a hedge straight on and no hesitation.’

  Arethusa chuckled. ‘You sound like Papa.’

  ‘I will take that as a compliment,’ he said seriously. ‘Your father is one of the finest horsemen in the county. To be compared to a Deverill is the height of my ambition.’ To marry one, the pinnacle, Arethusa thought roguishly. He moved a little closer and lowered his voice, giving her an almost paternal look. ‘It has come to my attention that you’ve been busy helping the poor,’ he said, changing the subject. Arethusa read his face and understood very quickly that he wasn’t admiring of her charity.

  ‘And what of it, Ronald?’ she asked, looking at him steadily.

  Ronald straightened. He was not used to women being so bold, but then Arethusa was not demure like other women. She had a fire in her, which was one of the reasons why he liked her so much, although he hoped that, once married, he’d manage to dampen it a bit, or at least direct it where it would be better served. A wife with too much fire in her was a dangerous thing. ‘You must be careful,’ he warned. ‘They are riddled with disease.’

  ‘You mean the poor?’

  ‘Yes, Tussy. They are not clean. I’m thinking of your health.’

  ‘Oh, I’m quite robust,’ she replied frostily.

  ‘But not immune.’

  Arethusa put her head on one side and frowned. ‘Have you ever been to visit the poor, Ronald?’ she asked. ‘Have you gone into their houses and seen how they live?’ He shook his head dismissively, considering the very idea absurd. ‘Have you seen how miserably they live? So many of them are literally dying of starvation. They have nothing. And we . . .’ She took a breath and straightened her shoulders. She did not want to get emotional in front of Ronald. ‘We have so much.’

  ‘And we are grateful for our blessings,’ he replied in a tone that revealed he had never considered them. ‘No one is more grateful than I. There is much that one can do to help, through charitable organizations. One does not have to get one’s hands dirty.’

  ‘One doesn’t,’ she retorted, losing patience. ‘But sometimes one wants to, Ronald.’

  He put a hand on her wrist. ‘I’m just looking out for your welfare. One can’t be too careful and you’re very precious.’

  ‘Precious?’ she repeated, fearing at once that he wanted to put her in a box with other precious things and lock her up.

  His eyes shone with tenderness. ‘Precious to me.’

  He was gazing at her, his face shiny like a red berry, and all she could think of was ‘pink, porky and pinguid’ and she began to laugh again. Ronald was put out. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted, covering her mouth with her hand again. ‘It’s just . . . will you excuse me?’ She fled the room in a fit of hysteria.

  Arethusa could not stop laughing. She was furious with Ronald for confronting her about helping the poor yet at the same time tickled by Rupert’s hilarious description of him. She sat on the sofa in the hall, opposite the baronial fireplace and the portrait painted in oils of Barton Deverill, the first Lord Deverill of Ballinakelly, and tried to compose herself. He was raffishly handsome was Barton, she thought, admiring his long curly black hair, green velvet breeches and ruffled shirt. She wished Ronald was more like him.

  ‘Men were very dandy in those days, weren’t they?’ It was Poppy, now taking the seat beside her.

  ‘Peacocks indeed,’ Arethusa agreed. ‘I think they took more trouble over their outfits than the women.’

  She looked at her aunt squarely. ‘Have you come to tell me off about laughing at Ronald?’

  Poppy placed a hand on Arethusa’s. ‘My dear, no man likes to be laughed at, however good his sense of humour. Ronald is proud and he wants you to admire him, not make a fool of him.’

  Arethusa began to laugh again. ‘But Rupert said he was pink, porky and pinguid and . . .’ She snorted. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it and laughing.’

  ‘That’s not very kind of Rupert, but typical.’ Poppy narrowed her eyes. ‘It’s not typical of you to be unkind.’

  Arethusa stopped laughing. She did not want to be considered unkind. ‘Somehow Ronald knows I visit the poor. He said I shouldn’t visit them because they are unclean and I’ll catch a disease.’

  ‘Oh, don’t listen to him. He knows nothing about it. But perhaps you shouldn’t visit them on your own. You know your mother doesn’t like it when you
sneak into town unaccompanied.’ Arethusa made to speak in her defence, but Poppy silenced her with a raised hand. ‘Don’t think she doesn’t know about it, my dear. She knows every time that pony and trap leaves the castle gates and it isn’t fair on poor Charlotte. It’s her job to chaperone you, after all.’

  ‘Charlotte’s a bore. She’s more terrified of disease than Ronald, so she’s no help at all. I bet if I marry Ronald he’ll stop me visiting or make me join committees, like Mama, and help from a distance. That’s no good. If I hadn’t gone to visit Mrs Foley, she would have killed her baby by frying it over the fire to chase out the changeling.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Poppy was horrified.

  ‘You see, we need to visit these people, if only to talk some sense into them.’

  ‘Where was Father O’Callaghan?’

  ‘Spread very thinly, I suspect. It’s a large community and there are many people in need. He’s run ragged, I should imagine.’

  ‘Poor Mrs Foley.’ Poppy sighed. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we visit together, you and I? I’m sure Ronald would be less concerned if you were accompanied. And I don’t like to think of you having to deal with situations like the Foley one, alone.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. Mama can’t complain either if I go with you.’

  ‘Adeline is thinking only of your health, Tussy. She’s on our side, I assure you.’

  ‘Oh, she is. But she worries. I have to sneak off without telling her, otherwise she’ll forbid me to go altogether. If she knew what I got up to while her eye is turned the other way, she’d be appalled.’

  ‘Let me speak to her.’

  Arethusa took her aunt’s hands in hers. ‘Would you? It matters so much to me.’

  ‘And to me, my dear. You and I are cut from the same cloth. I know you don’t believe it, but your mama is too. Don’t forget that Adeline has a husband to think of and I dare say Hubert is cut from the same cloth as Ronald. Those sort of men do not like to think of the poor in case it ruins their fun. And Adeline has to obey, for that’s what she vowed to do before God. But I can assure you, Adeline’s heart is in exactly the same place as ours.’

  O’Flynn announced dinner. Arethusa, contrite after having been ticked off by Poppy and not wanting to appear unkind, allowed Ronald to escort her into the dining room. Hazel and Laurel walked in on either side of Rupert, the Rector walked in with Lady Deverill, and Lord Deverill accompanied the Rector’s wife, Cynthia. Poppy and Adeline walked in together, due to the shortage of men, their heads almost touching because, although they saw each other almost every day, they always had a great deal to talk about. Arethusa tried to make it up to Ronald during dinner by giving him her unwavering attention and asking him about himself. It seemed to do the trick, for he puffed himself up again like a cockerel and crowed with anecdotes, laughing heartily at his own punchlines. She did not let her eyes stray to Rupert, who sat opposite, because she knew she’d collapse laughing again if he so much as blinked at her.

  After dessert the ladies left the dining room to convene in the drawing room while the men sat on, smoking cigars, passing the port and discussing politics – mainly Gladstone’s land reforms, which they considered a direct assault on their ancient way of life, and the recession that saw grain and meat imported more cheaply from America, New Zealand and Argentina. As a consequence, tenants were increasingly unable to afford to pay their rent. Greville did not like to think of the tenants. He feared change more than he feared anything. He threw himself into his hunting, fishing and socializing with determination to maintain the status quo. He did not like to think of the poor either – and fortunately for him Elizabeth was not one of those women, like Adeline, who had a soft heart and a social conscience; Elizabeth only ever thought of herself and her own comfort, and disliked change as much as he did. As for the Fenians plotting revolution in pursuit of Irish independence from Britain, well, he didn’t like to think of them either. If he rode hard, played hard and continued living as his family had done for generations, he believed the world outside the gates of Castle Deverill might be easily ignored and, if ignored, might just submit to his will, see the error of its ways, and surrender. He saw no reason why the order of things should be altered and only took his seat in the House of Lords at Westminster to ensure that it wasn’t. He puffed on his cigar, drank one of the finest bottles of port he could find in his cellar and changed the subject to one of his favourites: the wily fox, which only the week before had nearly outwitted him, the little devil.

  In the drawing room Laurel, Hazel and Poppy took their places at the card table and waited patiently for Rupert, who always made up the four. Adeline, dutiful and good-natured, sat beside Cynthia Millet and listened to her dull, long-winded account of her lost cat which was predictably found hiding beneath the altar cloth. Arethusa sat on the club fender beside her grandmother who had resumed her knitting, and held the ball of wool while her mind wandered to the blacksmith’s yard and Dermot’s audacious hand on her thigh. Just the thought of him sent her blood racing. Nothing raced when she thought of Ronald. Did that matter? Was it important to be attracted to one’s spouse? Wasn’t shared culture, interests and pedigree more important? Arethusa didn’t want to marry Dermot, or any of the other local men she had kissed, but she couldn’t help wishing that Ronald was a little more like him. The two could not be more different. Ronald was smooth, Dermot rough. Ronald was articulate, Dermot was not. Ronald was well-educated, rich and entitled. Dermot was a blacksmith and would always be a blacksmith, and barely had two farthings to rub together. Yet, she liked being kissed by Dermot. She imagined Ronald’s kisses would be slippery and cold, like a snake.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Elizabeth asked, looking up from her knitting.

  ‘Marriage,’ Arethusa replied dully. ‘I don’t find the prospect of it very appealing, Grandma.’

  ‘It isn’t meant to be appealing. It’s duty and duty is often a trial.’ She chuckled like a fat hen. ‘Ronald might not be a knight in shining armour, but the Good Ones never are.’

  ‘Good Ones?’

  ‘The Good Ones are the men who will make good husbands. They’ll be loyal and respectful and look after you and that, in the long run, is more important than physical attraction. The Handsome Knights will only make you miserable because they’re all passion and no substance.’

  ‘I suppose Grandpa is a Good One?’

  Elizabeth chuckled again. ‘Oh yes, he’s a Good One. More’s the pity!’ She lowered her voice and looked at her granddaughter slyly. ‘The secret is to enjoy a few Handsome Knights before you give in to duty, Tussy.’

  Arethusa laughed in surprise. She couldn’t imagine her grandmother being anything other than decorous. ‘Ooooh, Grandma! You dark horse. Mama would strongly disapprove of that.’

  ‘In a life of duty, my dear, it is only fair to have a few windows of pleasure.’ Her grandmother’s cheeks burned and Arethusa was not sure whether it was from the fire in the grate or the fire in the body, which Arethusa knew very well. Dermot made her cheeks burn like that too. ‘The secret is to keep up appearances, Tussy. What the eyes don’t see the heart won’t grieve for. One just has to be clever. A woman’s lot is a hard lot, make no mistake, so we must grab joy when we can, with both hands.’

  ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘If you don’t marry Ronald, you’ll marry someone else very like him. You’ll marry a Greville or a Hubert, a Bertie or a Rupert – no, not a Rupert, you won’t marry a Rupert.’

  Arethusa was baffled. ‘Why not a Rupert?’ she asked.

  ‘He won’t marry anybody.’

  ‘Of course he will.’

  ‘No, he won’t. Men like Rupert shouldn’t. Many do, but they shouldn’t. Ah, speak of the devil.’

  Arethusa raised her eyes to see her brother slip into the room and take his seat at his aunts’ table. ‘What shall it be tonight, ladies?’ he asked. ‘Poppy, deal the cards, Hazel and Laurel, brace yourselves. Tonight I’m feeling lucky!’
He laughed in his habitual way, hunching his shoulders and grinning playfully, like a boy.

  ‘You see? He’s not like the other men. They’ll be passing the port for another half an hour at least, but Rupert prefers to play cards with his aunts.’

  ‘Which means?’ Arethusa didn’t understand.

  ‘He’ll be playing cards with his aunts, just like this, in twenty years’ time. Mark my words. Although, of course, I won’t be around to witness it.’

  ‘I’m not sure I agree, Grandma. Rupert is so handsome; all the girls adore him. He’ll make a wonderful husband, or are you suggesting he’s not a Good One?’

  Elizabeth’s needles began to click louder. Arethusa turned the ball of wool to accommodate the increase of speed. ‘He is very handsome, that’s true,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘He’s good-looking, charming, creative and sensitive, but if he marries he’ll be miserable.’ She glanced at the card table, wincing a moment at the noise coming from it. ‘If he marries, his aunts will be miserable. If he doesn’t, his mother will be.’ She sighed. ‘As for you, there’s no choice. That’s a woman’s lot.’

  Arethusa considered her lot. What if she could have both a Handsome Knight and a Good One at the same time? After all, in a life of duty there had to be windows of pleasure!

  Chapter 7

  Ballinakelly, 1961

  I awake to fog. It is thick like wool and damp. The high street glistens and the slate roofs glisten too, and everything is wet and cold and miserable. Today Kitty is taking me to Castle Deverill, but how am I going to see it in this weather? I am bitterly disappointed.

  I returned from dinner last night in such high spirits. I have another family. A family who has always been here, only hidden from me and Logan. Mother was not alone, after all. She had never been alone. She just chose to be and I don’t know why. Perhaps I will find out when I read her diary. I will read it, only I have not had the courage to do so yet. I awoke with the excitement of a child who wakes up on Christmas morning to the satisfying weight of a stocking on the end of the bed. But then I opened the curtains and saw this. Grey cloud covering everything. Now I feel like a child who discovers that Santa Claus has not come.