The Secret Hours

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Arethusa.

  Ronald seemed to enjoy her agreeing with him for he put a hand on her arm and gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m very sorry about your aunt. Jolly bad luck.’

  Arethusa’s eyes revealed her pain. ‘Everyone says she’s going to die.’

  ‘Typhus is hard to cure.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘I hope you’re not going visiting, Tussy.’

  ‘Grandpa has forbidden it,’ she replied gloomily.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I don’t have the heart to do anything at the moment, except wait for news. Of course, I’m not allowed to go to her bedside. I have to stay at home and pray. It’s very frustrating.’

  ‘I am praying for her too, but I do wonder whether God hears.’

  Arethusa’s interest was piqued. ‘I’m not sure he does,’ she agreed, eager to speak about her disappointment in God to someone who understood. ‘Surely, if he cared, good people like Aunt Poppy wouldn’t get sick in the first place.’

  ‘There’s too much misery in the world for God to exist.’

  ‘You’re right! If there really was a God of love as Mama insists there is, he would make Aunt Poppy better at once.’

  ‘I don’t imagine your mama’s herbs are doing much good either.’

  They shared a knowing smile. ‘Of course they’re ineffectual,’ said Arethusa, rolling her eyes. ‘But she brews them anyway. Her greenhouse is full of all sorts of plants with long Latin names. She believes there’s something in there for every ailment. But I know better.’

  ‘You’re a sensible girl,’ Ronald said admiringly. ‘You’re more practical, like your father.’

  Arethusa lowered her voice. ‘Mama is secretly pagan, but don’t tell Papa. In the olden days she’d have been burned at the stake for a witch. If you could hear the rubbish she spouts, ghosts in the castle and spirits contacting her from the dead, you’d be sorely tried.’ They laughed like a pair of conspirators. ‘Mama really is away with the fairies!’

  ‘She is not my concern.’ Ronald gave Arethusa a meaningful, affectionate look. ‘You and I agree on many things, Tussy. We’re more alike than you realize. I like your pragmatism. A man can talk to you. Most women’s heads are full of nonsense.’

  Arethusa was suitably flattered. She liked to think of herself as pragmatic and more intelligent than other women. ‘Thank you, Ronald. I’m glad you appreciate my finer qualities.’ She was not going to enlighten him on the less fine ones. If her visiting the poor was his only criticism she could perhaps find another way to help the needy.

  That afternoon Adeline received an unexpected visitor. It was Old Mrs O’Leary whose son Niall was the local vet. Adeline did not have the strength to listen to complaints today, but O’Flynn told her that the woman had said it was of an urgent and personal nature. Adeline sighed despairingly, but, aware of her duty as chatelaine and too soft-hearted for her own good, she felt she couldn’t very well refuse her. She agreed to receive her on the terrace where she was with Hazel, Augusta, Maud and Arethusa, while the men were out hunting hares. At least, if Old Mrs O’Leary was tiresome, Adeline would have her family around her for support.

  The ladies waited, seated in a semicircle, looking out over the lawn, while O’Flynn led the visitor through the garden in a slow, stately fashion. They finally reached the terrace and O’Flynn presented her in his usual formal manner, then stood to one side. Old Mrs O’Leary stepped forward. She raised her chin and smiled gently at the ladies. Arethusa noticed the woman’s eyes at once. They were the most extraordinary colour she had ever seen. A blend of green and turquoise, like agate. The ladies, who had been as unenthusiastic as Adeline, now sat up with interest.

  Old Mrs O’Leary was an elderly woman in a black dress with a thick shawl draped over her shoulders, as was the custom for widows, and yet, what set this widow apart was her striking face. It was obvious that she had once been a beauty. Her grey hair was tied into a bun, emphasizing high cheekbones, wide-side eyes, a straight nose and a surprisingly full mouth. There was something foreign about her looks, as if she had come from far away, and a wisdom in her expression which made the five ladies curious to hear what she had to say. As she lifted a hand to arrange her shawl, Arethusa noticed her fingers, which were long, tapered and unexpectedly elegant.

  ‘Madam, forgive me for coming at this difficult time,’ she said in a soft, melodious voice, settling her strange gaze onto Adeline, who was visibly moved by her and baffled as to why they had not previously met. Adeline knew her son Niall, who came to look after her horses, but she had never met his mother.

  ‘Please, Mrs O’Leary, what can I do to help you?’ Adeline asked.

  ‘It is I who have come to help you,’ said Old Mrs O’Leary, and her smile was so full of knowing that it was hard not to believe she had the power to do so. She put a white hand into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a glass bottle. ‘This is water drawn from the Lady’s Well,’ she said. Arethusa caught Maud’s eye and they shared a doubtful look. The Lady’s Well was in the hills outside Ballinakelly where a statue of Mary stood in the centre of a well-trodden circular path where local Catholics and pilgrims walked ‘rounds’ with their rosary beads and prayed for miracles. Wishes were placed in notes beneath a hawthorn bush and, according to legend, if an eel popped his head above the water the wish would be granted. Arethusa, of course, thought the whole thing preposterous (in the same way she thought the swaying statue of Mary on the road out of Ballinakelly was preposterous) and was now in no doubt that the old woman was a witch. ‘Give this to your sister, Miss Poppy, and she will be healed. The eel appeared and told me it will be so.’

  Old Mrs O’Leary gave the bottle to Adeline, who smiled sadly but gratefully at the old woman’s sweet thought. ‘Thank you for your kindness,’ she said. ‘I will, and I will pray that it works.’

  ‘Oh, on my life it will work,’ said Old Mrs O’Leary, nodding with certainty. ‘A lady such as yourself must know that the power of the water is not only in the water itself, but in the mind of the person who takes it. Tell your dear sister that this is miraculous water and she will be made well.’

  Adeline frowned. ‘I’m so grateful to you, Mrs O’Leary. Thank you. I’m surprised we have never met before. Your son, Niall, looks after our animals and often brings your grandson, Liam, with him. They are wonderful with the horses, both of them. They seem to have healing hands as well as an instinct to know immediately what is wrong. And now here you are, reaching out with your own healing hands and I’m terribly grateful for your kindness.’

  ‘We might not have formally met, Mrs Deverill, but I know who you are. I am old now and prefer not to venture far. Like you, I am a herbalist. Everything we need for healing the body and soul is to be found in these forests and hills. We need look no further than here. I bless you and your family. May you live long and may your dear sister live out the rest of her days in peace.’

  ‘I will hasten to Poppy’s side immediately and give her this water,’ said Adeline brightly, standing up. ‘O’Flynn, please ask Mr McCarthy to drive Mrs O’Leary home in the pony and trap.’

  ‘Thank you, madam. That will save my legs,’ said Old Mrs O’Leary and before she departed she seemed to bless the ladies with a beatific smile.

  ‘She’s an angel,’ said Adeline once she had gone.

  ‘A witch, more like,’ said Arethusa cynically.

  ‘Did you notice her eyes?’ Maud added. ‘I didn’t think a human being could have eyes of such an astonishing green.’

  ‘I told you, she’s a witch,’ said Arethusa.

  ‘She’s most definitely a witch,’ Maud agreed.

  ‘If she’s a witch then she’s more likely to heal Poppy,’ said Hazel. ‘I’d sell my soul to the devil himself for a cure for Poppy.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Augusta exclaimed fruitily, giving her Pekinese, who was positioned on her knee as usual, a biscuit from the plate on the table. ‘One must not jest about such things, Hazel, or
the devil may very well hear and seize the opportunity. I’m sure the devil is just waiting in the wings to steal desperate souls such as yours.’

  Adeline turned to her sister. ‘Hazel, I’m going right away. Are you coming?’

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ Hazel gushed, pushing herself off the bench and hurrying after her sister.

  If that water works, Arethusa thought, I’m going straight to the woods to celebrate with Dermot.

  ‘If that water works,’ she said out loud, ‘I’m going straight to the Lady’s Well to fill an entire can with it.’

  Augusta laughed. ‘My dear Tussy, if that water works I will eat my toque!’

  Chapter 11

  It was a great surprise to everyone except Old Mrs O’Leary when Poppy made a miraculous recovery. Dr Johnson was baffled. In his experience, a patient with such a severe form of typhus never recovered. Adeline put it down to Old Mrs O’Leary’s holy water; Augusta insisted, stridently, that it was the power of prayer (and did not eat her toque); Maud and Bertie claimed it was God’s will; Lord Deverill, Hubert and Stoke all agreed that it was simply the body’s own natural way of fighting back; Rupert said, ‘Good Lord!’ and Lady Deverill said nothing. Arethusa wept with happiness and resolved to celebrate with Dermot – a part of her wondered at the little bottle of water Old Mrs O’Leary had given her mother, but her logical mind told her such a miracle was impossible. The cure must have simply been Poppy’s own determination to get better.

  The night after Poppy turned the corner, Hazel and Laurel sneaked off to the Lady’s Well by moonlight. Two nervous creatures hurrying through the silver bracken and gorse with glass bottles in hand to fill with the miraculous water that had saved their sister Poppy from certain death. Frightened of the dark and panicked by the rustling noises of the night animals, but quite resolute, they held hands as they scampered along like a pair of mice, praying they wouldn’t be seen. When at last they reached the well, they stood a moment transfixed by the white face of the Virgin Mary, eerily illuminated in the moonlight. However, when the statue didn’t move or do anything spooky, they breathed again, filled their bottles with water and looked around for the hawthorn bush. Hazel and Laurel knew their hawthorn from their elder and spotted it at once. ‘Have you got the wish?’ Hazel hissed.

  ‘I have,’ Laurel hissed back.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Here.’ Laurel pulled a small piece of card out of her pocket. She handed it to Hazel who opened it. God, send us a man, even if it’s one between us. She hastened to the bush and stuffed it into the branches where it lay hidden from all but the birds, along with the debris of hundreds of other notes gathered there over the years.

  ‘No one must know,’ said Hazel.

  ‘No one,’ agreed Laurel.

  ‘God save me,’ said Hazel.

  ‘God save us both,’ said Laurel.

  Suddenly a loud plop resounded out of the stillness. They both turned to the well in alarm. There, peeping out of the water for a brief moment, was an eel.

  ‘Did you see that, Laurel?’ Hazel hissed.

  ‘I did,’ Laurel replied.

  ‘An eel,’ Hazel gasped. ‘You know what that means, Laurel!’

  ‘Oh, I do, Hazel!’

  ‘I’m ready,’ said Hazel.

  ‘As am I,’ said Laurel, and they set off down the path at a brisk pace, their glass bottles full of miraculous water.

  When they returned to the warmth of their cottage, they poured themselves thimble-sized glasses of gin and made a vow, sealed with a solemn handshake, never to tell a soul what they had done.

  Arethusa was so happy that Poppy hadn’t died after all that she took the pony and trap into Ballinakelly to find Dermot. The sun shone, the sky dazzled a cornflower blue and the sea glittered beneath it like a quilt of sapphire. Overhead, birds of prey circled on the warm breeze and fat bees buzzed about the purple bell heather. It was a glorious day, made all the more beautiful by the thought of Poppy’s recovery. Arethusa held the reins with one hand, occasionally holding down her hat with the other each time a gust of wind threatened to blow it off her head. She passed Mrs Hurley, the fish-woman, who was walking slowly up the hill behind a quartet of lobsters, which were scrambling along the ground in front of her. When one of them deviated from the path she eased it gently back with a bracken stalk. Arethusa waved and the woman waved back. In her basket Arethusa could see a slippery mass of silver fish. Mrs Hurley was obviously tired of carrying such a heavy load and had decided that the lobsters could walk some of the way by themselves.

  Once in town Arethusa tied the horse to a post then set off up the high street towards the blacksmith’s foundry. She found Dermot there, with his father, hard at work smelting iron over the furnace. She caught Dermot’s eye as she sauntered past. His face flushed with delight at the sight of her. She winked, tossed him a coquettish smile and flounced off, swaying her hips as she went. A moment later they were reunited in the stable behind the foundry, hidden in the shadows. Dermot pressed her against the wall and kissed her roughly, his course beard scratching her chin and neck just the way she liked it. He lifted her skirt to discover, to his delight, that she was wearing no undergarments. His hand found only warm skin and soft thigh and she gave a throaty laugh, lifting her leg to give him easy access. ‘Oh Dermot, I’ve missed you,’ she moaned as he began to stroke her.

  ‘No one else can do this to you, Tussy. Only me.’

  Arethusa closed her eyes and relished the heat now spreading through her loins with the exquisite mounting of pleasure. ‘I want you inside me, Dermot. I want to feel you inside me.’ Dermot unbuttoned his trousers and released himself. Arethusa forgot about Poppy, Ronald and everything outside those stable doors as they moved as one towards their climax.

  When they were satisfied they laughed at their wickedness. ‘Aren’t we beasts!’ she exclaimed triumphantly.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming back,’ said Dermot.

  ‘I couldn’t while my aunt was unwell.’

  ‘Are you back now? Or are you going to leave me again?’

  ‘I’m here for the moment,’ she said with a grin. ‘Until I find something more entertaining to do with my time.’

  ‘You’re a tease, Arethusa Deverill!’ He smacked her playfully.

  She giggled and stroked his beard. ‘But you love me, don’t you, Dermot!’

  ‘It is my misfortune that I do,’ he replied, gazing at her with sentimental eyes.

  ‘I’d better be going,’ she said after a while. ‘Mama will wonder where I’ve gone, and I’m not allowed to go visiting the poor anymore. We’re going to have to meet in the woods as before.’

  ‘That’s grand as long as the weather holds,’ he replied.

  ‘Then we must make hay while the sun shines.’

  As they walked out of the stable Dermot’s father was stepping into the courtyard from the foundry. When he saw Arethusa, a look of surprise swept across his face. He slid his eyes from Arethusa to his son and back again. Then, remembering his manners, he doffed his cap. ‘Good day, Miss Deverill,’ he said, but the tone in which he said it had an edge of insolence to it.

  ‘Good day, Mr McLoughlin,’ she replied with a confidence she didn’t feel. She raised her chin and pulled back her shoulders and turned to Dermot. ‘Thank you for your advice, Mr McLoughlin. I will be sure to tell my father.’ Then she strode around the corner into the alley that led out onto the high street. As she turned her back both Dermot and his father saw the powdery lichen from the wall clinging to her dress. Old Mr McLoughlin looked at his son and raised an eyebrow.

  Arethusa was not happy to have been caught by Mr McLoughlin. She hoped he wouldn’t tell. She did not need the people of Ballinakelly gossiping about her sinful ways. When she arrived back at the castle she gave the pony to Mr McCarthy and went inside. Adeline was arranging the flowers on the hall table.

  ‘Where have you been, Tussy?’ she asked without looking at her.

  �
�Nowhere.’

  Adeline frowned and continued to thread stalks into the vase. ‘Do you need the pony and trap to go nowhere?’

  Arethusa sighed. ‘I just needed to get out.’

  ‘And where was Charlotte while you just needed to get out?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wanted to be alone.’

  ‘Darling, you shouldn’t go into Ballinakelly on your own and it’s not fair to disrespect Charlotte in this way. How can she do her job if you’re running off all the time. You must be accompanied when you leave the castle. Your father is very adamant about that.’

  ‘And do you just agree with him, unquestioningly, on everything?’

  ‘Your father and I stand together on most things.’

  ‘And on this? I bet you didn’t take a chaperone every time you rode over the hills. You adore your freedom. Well, so do I.’

  Adeline stopped arranging the flowers and looked at her directly. ‘My dear, you’re a young lady now. You have to behave like one. It’s not seemly to race around the countryside on your own, nor is it safe. Poppy nearly died, don’t forget. I doubt she’s going to resume her work, helping the poor, in the same way. Neither should you.’

  ‘I wasn’t visiting, I promise.’ She could speak the truth about that at least.

  ‘Then what were you doing?’

  Arethusa couldn’t speak the truth about Dermot. ‘I wanted to buy some ribbon for my hat.’

  Adeline dropped her gaze to her daughter’s empty hands. ‘I see you didn’t find any.’

  ‘No, there was nothing I liked.’

  ‘That’s a shame, with so many different colours to choose from.’

  ‘My thought exactly.’

  As Arethusa made her way up the stairs, Adeline noticed the lichen on the back of her dress and her heart stopped. As far as she was aware, there was no lichen on the wall in Mrs Maguire’s ribbon shop!

  That evening before dinner, while Hubert, Bertie, Adeline and Maud were finishing their game of croquet in the half-light, and Greville, Elizabeth, Stoke and Augusta were talking on the terrace, Arethusa and Rupert went for a stroll along the beach, just the two of them. The setting sun bounced off the waves in silver spangles and Jupiter could just be made out as a faint star in the darkening sky. The wind was blustery, blowing in off the sea, bringing with it the smell of weed and brine, and birds settled down noisily to roost in the cliffs. Arethusa loved this time, just before twilight, when the colours changed so quickly, from indigo and turquoise to pink and gold. She loved the melancholy feeling it gave her as the day slowly died and night crept in with its dark and secret hours. Rupert, hands in pockets, strode up the sand beside her, feeling that same sense of melancholy and allowing it to permeate his being and give him a sense of wonder at the beauty of the world.