Charlotte frowned with both disapproval and bewilderment. ‘He must propose to Lady Alexandra,’ she said firmly. ‘Or he will hurt her and insult her family. One doesn’t want to insult a powerful family like the Sutcliffes.’
‘I agree. However, I’m surprised the Duke and Duchess approve of Rupert. He’s not going to inherit the title or the castle. In fact, he’s not going to get much at all.’
‘But Lady Alexandra is indulged. If she wants him badly enough her parents will no doubt support her. They are frightfully rich, after all. And don’t forget, Lord Penrith is marrying a gold mine!’
They both laughed. ‘And Rupert is very unhappy about it,’ said Arethusa.
‘I don’t understand Rupert at all,’ Charlotte confessed.
‘Grandma does,’ Arethusa told her. ‘She said Rupert will never marry. That he’ll be playing bridge with the Shrubs when he’s an old man. Imagine! What a life!’
‘Indeed. I think Rupert is one of those men who prefer the company of other men. Perhaps he’d be happier playing bridge at his club with Peregrine.’
‘I think you’re right.’ Arethusa took Charlotte’s hand and smiled at her with gratitude. ‘You haven’t given me any answers, and my situation remains unaltered, but you have made me feel much better. Thank you.’
Charlotte clasped her hand in both of hers as if it were a precious thing. ‘A woman’s lot is a hard one,’ she told her gently. ‘But if we can talk about it and share our problems, it will make the going easier, I promise.’ Then she paused and took a breath. ‘If there really is no possibility of this love of yours then I would accept Ronald’s proposal.’ She gave Arethusa a severe look, suddenly the governess again, rather than the friend. ‘If there is any chance that you will do something silly, I would marry Ronald as soon as possible in order to save yourself from dishonour.’
Arethusa felt a chill about the heart. She knew Charlotte was right. That she should save herself from herself. But she also knew, given the opportunity and her wild and reckless nature, that there was a strong chance she would do something very silly indeed. After all, it wasn’t restraint that was now taking hold of her, but quite the opposite. She was feeble against the overwhelming desire to engineer a meeting with Jonas.
Chapter 23
Arethusa was relieved when the London season came to an end at the beginning of August. Rupert had disgraced himself. The Deverill name was unmentionable in the Sutcliffe household and many doors which had been thrown open for both Rupert and his sister in London’s finest avenues were now shut. On Arethusa’s part, she too had caused lips to purse with disapproval having rebuffed some of the most eligible men who had plucked up the courage to propose to her. In short, London was not sorry to be rid of them. The only person who viewed their foray as a success was Augusta, who was so busy planning her ball and telling everyone about it that she did not hear the whispers or feel the many cold shoulders. Arethusa and Rupert left London under a cloud, but the sun still shone in Augusta’s world.
Back at Castle Deverill they received a hero’s welcome. Greville and Elizabeth threw a grand dinner party in their honour, inviting two hundred friends from all over the county to dine and dance. Among those friends were the Rowan-Hamptons. Ronald, being eager to secure an engagement, was the first through the door. Arethusa, who was under no illusions about what was expected of her, was ready to acquiesce. After all, she knew she could never marry Jonas. She also knew that running away with him was out of the question. Nor did she want to go off like fruit left too long in the bowl, as Augusta had said. If she didn’t marry Ronald, she’d marry someone very like him. Therefore, she might as well accept her lot and hope that the odd letter from Jonas would be a small beacon of light in the dark monotony of her married life.
Ronald’s happiness knew no bounds. He arrived pink in the face with anticipation, for in his pocket he carried a diamond and sapphire ring which had been given to him by his father especially for this very moment. He puffed out his chest with confidence and strode into the hall with a swagger, as if taking ownership of a Deverill gave him special status. He was relieved that Arethusa had survived the London season without being taken by anyone else, but he was also a touch complacent. After all, he believed his letters had kept him in her mind and, although adventurous and free-spirited, he was sure she appreciated his qualities and was fond of him because of what he represented: home, family and Ireland. There were not many in London who represented those.
Arethusa was a prize and he was about to win her. Ronald felt very pleased with himself. He remained at her side for the duration of the evening, attending her like an eager knight of olde with his lady, making sure her glass was full, that she wasn’t too cold, or too hot even, and Arethusa thought that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad being looked after in this way, so long as he gave her breathing space from time to time for her windows of pleasure. Adeline’s hand in the placement was revealed when they found themselves seated together at the dinner table. It was only after eating, when they wandered into the garden to sit alone beneath the stars, twinkling fittingly bright in a velvet sky, that Ronald bent to one knee and took her hand. Arethusa was unmoved by the charade. She thought of Jonas, of his beautiful face, still clear in her memory, and her whole body ached for him. Ronald’s hand was warm and damp with sweat. The thought of it touching her intimately gave her a sudden shiver of revulsion. She looked down into his eyes that brimmed with affection, but they too failed to soften the hardening of her heart. Arethusa knew he was a good and kind man and would no doubt look after her as the Good Ones her grandmother spoke of could be relied upon to do. Her heart hardened towards her life and the unfairness of it and yet she did not pull her hand away.
‘My darling Tussy,’ he began, his face crumping into a sincere frown. ‘I have loved you for years. You know that, of course. I have told you many times in my letters. There was a moment when I thought I had lost you to London, but I always knew your heart was in the right place. Home, family and Ireland matter to you as they matter to me and that is the kind of foundation upon which one can build a life together that is both satisfactory and pleasant. I’m asking you to make me the happiest man in the world tonight, by agreeing to marry me.’ His eyes now sparkled with tears. ‘My darling Tussy, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
He slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a little red box. Arethusa watched him open it with trembling fingers. There, glittering on a crimson cushion, was the diamond and sapphire ring. Arethusa had never been moved by material things and she wasn’t moved now. The gems glittered but they promised a future that was hard and cold and restrained. She blinked and large tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lips quivered and she put a hand to her heart, which seemed to shrivel like a prune in anticipation of the loveless marriage that lay before it. Ronald, encouraged by what he saw as a sincere display of emotion, slipped the ring onto her finger, where it sat securely as if it had been made especially to her size. Then he stood up and pulled her against him. ‘You have made me the happiest man alive,’ he gushed, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss, which, although chaste, gave a moist preview of what was to come. ‘I must now ask your father for your hand and then we can share our happy news with everyone. My darling,’ he added, gazing into her eyes which appeared to shine brilliantly with affection for him. ‘We will take the world by storm, the two of us. What a pair we shall be. And one day, when my father passes away, you will carry the title Lady Rowan-Hampton with great style. Sir Ronald and Lady Rowan-Hampton. Arethusa Rowan-Hampton, how does that sound? Like music to me, my darling. Come! Let us get back to the party. I need to get your father into the library before anyone sees the ring.’
It occurred to Arethusa as she followed him back inside that she hadn’t actually said yes.
The following few days were a blur. She felt as if she were wading through porridge as people called to the castle to congratulate her and bouquets of flowers arrived wrap
ped in brightly coloured ribbons. Her heart bled for the man she loved and couldn’t have. She nursed it by playing the banjo, deep into the night, on the window seat in her bedroom, but it served only to drive her sorrow deeper. The banjo was the only part of him she had kept. The only part she could touch, and the music connected her to him, wherever he was, and made her feel close in spite of the distance between them.
Everyone at Castle Deverill was oblivious of her pain. Hubert was relieved that the responsibility of taking care of his headstrong and unconventional daughter was no longer going to be his, while Adeline was happy that she had agreed to marry a kind and generous man who would take care of her – and make an honest woman of her. There would be no more dalliances into town or flirtations with the local men. Greville was of the opinion that girls like his granddaughter were rather like broodmares: only good for breeding; Arethusa was simply fulfilling her destiny and marrying a man from her stock, as was her duty. But Elizabeth smiled to herself because when a woman like Arethusa married a Good One, there would always be windows left ajar to allow in those deliciously wicked Handsome Knights.
‘She’ll tire of Ronald very quickly,’ said Rupert to the Shrubs as they dealt the cards for a rubber of bridge.
‘Tush!’ chided Laurel. ‘You’re very cynical, Rupert. I think Ronald is the perfect match for her.’
‘That’s only because you don’t really know Tussy very well,’ he added with a knowing grin, which suggested he alone did.
‘She’s certainly free-spirited,’ said Poppy, smiling fondly. ‘Ronald will have his work cut out for him. But I think she’ll settle down and make a very good wife.’
Rupert laughed. ‘She’s much too selfish to make a good wife,’ he said, looking at his hand of cards and sensing an advantage. ‘She’ll make a challenging wife, a tiresome wife and most likely a demanding wife, but God forbid she makes a bored wife.’ He looked at the three sisters from under his frown. ‘Bored wives are trouble.’
Hazel shook her head. ‘And what do you know of wives?’ she asked.
‘Enough to tell me that I don’t want one,’ he replied crisply.
‘After your season in London I’m not sure there are any potential wives who want you,’ said Poppy disapprovingly.
However, Rupert grinned at her and it was so full of charm and mischief that she couldn’t help but smile. ‘I did rather disgrace myself in London,’ he said with a sigh. ‘As did Tussy, of course. It’s just as well that Ronald is gathering her up, but if I know Tussy, and I do, I predict dramas ahead. After all, Tussy is a round peg and convention is a square hole.’
Arethusa waited for a letter from Jonas but none came. She sensed that he had accepted the futility of their relationship and had given up corresponding. Perhaps he didn’t want to encourage her when the very idea of it was hopeless. Arethusa knew that she should accept it too, but she could not. To look into a future without Jonas was like looking into a world devoid of joy. Music would sound uninspiring to her ears, dancing would feel joyless to her feet, even the changing seasons would be drab if there was no possibility of a word from the man she loved. Without Jonas, she’d be like a traveller without a compass, wandering without a sense of direction, without a sense of purpose. She only wanted to feel connected to him. It didn’t matter that he lived on another continent, so long as he sent her the occasional word to reassure her that she was in his thoughts, and in his heart perhaps, then she could go on and the music wouldn’t sound so flat and the dancing wouldn’t feel so heavy. She could appreciate the seasons because the same sun would shine down on them both and she would know that he had not forgotten her.
The wedding was set for May of the following year. The ceremony would be held in the church of St Patrick in Ballinakelly with a reception at the castle afterwards. Adeline set about writing the guest list with the help of Augusta, who had arrived with Stoke and two of their sons for their usual August sojourn, while the Shrubs had much to say about the dress and what it should look like. Charlotte helped Adeline plan Arethusa’s trousseau, though inside her heart was heavy. She knew that her employment would end with Arethusa’s marriage and she would have to go out into the world and find another position. Nothing, she feared, would compare to Castle Deverill and Arethusa, of whom she was so terribly fond.
Arethusa feigned interest in her wedding. It seemed that was all any of the women in her family could talk about, even though the Deverill Summer Ball was approaching and there was a lot to organize. Besides Charlotte, only her grandmother sensed her lack of enthusiasm, winking at her across the dining-room table and occasionally making comments under her breath while she sat beside the fire in the library, knitting. ‘My dear,’ she said one evening, while Arethusa sat at her feet holding the ball of wool and staring into it forlornly. ‘You’re only a prisoner of Fate if you think you are.’ Arethusa looked back at her and frowned. Elizabeth smiled and continued to knit.
‘What did you say, Grandma?’
‘You heard me well enough, Tussy,’ she replied. ‘I’m speaking of the power of thought to create your reality. Dreams come true, you know, if you dream hard enough.’
‘Do you know what I dream?’ Arethusa asked.
‘Your dreams are no different to everyone else’s. We all want to be happy, don’t we?’
‘Do I look miserable to you?’ Arethusa lowered her voice.
Elizabeth put her knitting on her lap and ran a hand down her granddaughter’s hair. ‘Only to me, because I was once just like you. Where did you think you got your nature from? Not Adeline, she’s much too otherworldly, and certainly not from Hubert, who is much too conventional. No, you’re just like me. That wild, impulsive and reckless thread weaves through my side of the family. Greville didn’t tame me, he just thought he did.’ She chuckled like one of her hens. ‘I played a clever game, as must you. We might be the weaker sex, but there’s no reason why we can’t be the sharper one.’
Arethusa stared at her grandmother. She was so articulate. Her thoughts so clearly communicated. Suddenly, Elizabeth didn’t look dotty at all, in fact she looked cunning. Either she was totally mad, or incredibly calculating and shrewd. Arethusa narrowed her eyes. ‘Grandma, are you an actress, playing the part of a dotty old lady, or are you really a dotty old lady?’
Elizabeth lifted her chin and resumed her knitting. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Tussy,’ she replied severely, but Arethusa could see a secretive smile hovering about her lips.
The next day dawned bright and optimistic. The sun dazzled in a royal-blue sky, infusing the hills and valleys of Co. Cork with its late-summer radiance. The wind that came off the sea was warm and playful. Arethusa had dreamed of Jonas. She had been in his arms and he had been kissing her. She had awoken surprised to find herself alone and had closed her eyes and tried to bring the dream back, but slowly it had faded and the feeling of being wrapped in his love had faded with it. She got up and called for her maid. The young Eily appeared, eager to please. ‘Take this note and give it to Dermot McLoughlin at once.’ Eily looked down at the envelope and frowned. ‘And if you open it I shall know and you will never work in Ballinakelly again. Do you understand?’
Eily gave a curtsey. ‘I do, miss.’
‘Good. Now go at once and if anyone asks where you’re going, tell them I have sent you to deliver an important letter to Mrs Poppy.’
Arethusa watched the maid put the envelope in the pocket of her skirt and leave the room. She thought of Jonas, of the impossibility of any kind of relationship, and then she thought of Dermot, the only consolation in what was otherwise a bleak and unhappy future. She would seek her windows of pleasure while she could, in the only way she could. If she didn’t, she knew she would go mad. As long as she was cunning, like her grandmother, she could survive the boredom of being Lady Rowan-Hampton. And in the meantime, she would dream, because sometimes dreams came true if one dreamed hard enough.
Eily hurried across the fields towards Ballinakelly, Arethusa’s letter
smouldering like a burning coal in her pocket. She longed to know what was in it. What Miss Arethusa had written to Dermot McLoughlin. Eily had heard rumours that the two of them met in secret, the town was awash with gossip, but that was fervently denied by those loyal to the Deverills. There were many who weren’t loyal. Men who talked of independence from the British, men willing to fight for it. But Eily was young and she didn’t understand the snippets of conversation she picked up at the dinner table while the men in her family voiced their resentment at the ruling Anglo-Irish class who lived lavishly while they had barely enough to feed their families. She was much more interested in the gossip and here, in her pocket, was a letter from Miss Arethusa herself to Dermot McLoughlin, either confirming or refuting an improper relationship. It was irresistible. Yet the envelope was sealed. If she opened it, Arethusa would surely find out and she would be finished. She’d never get another job. She couldn’t afford that. She stopped walking and pulled the envelope out of her pocket and looked at it closely. She held it up to the light but the paper was too thick. She tried peeling it open but the gum was too strong. She was so frustrated she nearly ripped it open in spite of knowing the consequences, but eventually she accepted it couldn’t be done and put it back in her pocket and walked on briskly.
When Eily reached the foundry Dermot was outside, smoking a cigarette and talking to a couple of grubby-looking men in caps and tatty jackets who she knew as she knew all the locals. When Dermot saw her, he broke off the conversation. ‘What are you doing here at this time of the morning, Eily Goggin? Shouldn’t you be tending to your mistress?’
Eily’s position at the castle gave her a certain confidence and she scowled at him. ‘I need a word with you, in private.’ She glared at his friends.
‘Talk later,’ Dermot said to them, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out with his boot. ‘Come on then, Miss Goggin. What do you want with the likes of me?’
The Secret Hours Page 29
