The Secret Hours

by Santa Montefiore

  The Padmores are very curious about me and ask all sorts of questions about my mother and my reasons for being here. Neither thinks it odd that I’m here without my husband, although Elspeth is uncomfortable with it. She says that, in all the years she and Peter have been married, she has never spent a night away from him.

  ‘Good Lord!’ cries Petula. ‘The horror of spending every night of my life with Purdy.’

  Purdy laughs and his face shines with mirth. ‘My dear, as lovely as you are, and you are, indeed, quite lovely, I do need a break from your loveliness from time to time. A brief interlude renders it all the more lovely when I come back to it.’

  ‘This is the first time I’ve travelled abroad without Wyatt,’ I say. ‘But I’m really enjoying some time on my own.’

  ‘Of course you are, my dear,’ says Petula. ‘A woman only truly knows who she is when she’s not measuring herself against a man.’

  ‘Very true,’ Kitty agrees.

  ‘And Wyatt will appreciate you all the more when you return,’ says Purdy.

  Elspeth glances at Peter. ‘I have no desire to know myself any more than I do already.’

  Peter smiles at her approvingly. ‘Everyone is different, my darling,’ he says diplomatically.

  Robert, who never says much, adds, ‘I think independence is a good thing as long as one knows where one’s loyalties lie.’

  ‘You see, Robert, how good you are for Kitty. My sister had to marry a man who allowed her her freedom,’ says Elspeth and I sense naivety in her words, but she continues carelessly, ‘Kitty has always been a free spirit.’ I wonder whether her free spirit has got her into trouble in the past. Elspeth smiles at Robert – the smile of someone who knows nothing. ‘But you tamed her, didn’t you, Robert.’

  Kitty puts her lips to her wine glass and maintains an even expression. Robert looks a little uncomfortable, or perhaps I am imagining it. What I’ve seen of him so far, he never looks very at ease with himself.

  ‘I think we’re very lucky to be able to choose the people we marry,’ I say, deflecting the subject from Kitty and Robert. ‘I’ve been reading my mother’s diary and at the turn of the century people didn’t seem to have much choice. Or rather, love didn’t count for much.’

  ‘Oh, we are so lucky,’ Petula agrees. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t have been allowed to marry Purdy if I had lived in those days.’

  ‘What tosh!’ retorts Purdy. ‘I was straight out of the hanky drawer!’

  We all laugh at that. ‘What’s the hanky drawer?’ I ask.

  ‘The top drawer,’ says Petula, smiling at him with affection. ‘You were, darling, straight out of the hanky drawer, but you didn’t have any money, nor did you have a great house.’

  He smiles slyly. ‘Then I would have been allowed to marry you because you had both.’

  ‘I would have run away with you all the same,’ says Petula.

  ‘Where would you have gone?’ Kitty asks, enjoying the game.

  ‘America,’ says Purdy. ‘Everyone who eloped went to America.’

  I think of my mother who also ran off to America and wonder, suddenly, whether I’m going to discover that she eloped. How has that not occurred to me? ‘But you would have come back?’ I ask, feeling a prickly apprehension creep over me.

  ‘Dust always settles eventually,’ Purdy replies. ‘Of course I would have come back. Home is home, and if Ireland is one’s home, well, there’s no other place like it.’

  I look at Kitty and I know she’s thinking the same as me. Why didn’t the dust settle for Arethusa?

  That night after everyone has left, I read Mother’s diary. Purdy has got me wondering. It’s all very well running off to America, but what’s odd is never coming back. Not ever. That’s quite extraordinary, considering Mom’s family ties and the depth of her roots. I say goodnight to Kitty and Robert and head to my room. As I look out over the glittering sea, for now the clouds have moved away and the moon has scattered diamonds over the water, I wonder what Cormac is doing. Is he lying in bed, wondering what I am doing? We have agreed to meet tomorrow. He is picking me up at ten.

  I lean against the pillows and open Mom’s little book. I open it to the page where last I left off and turn it to the handheld mirror on my lap. It’s not the easiest way to read a book, but I have mastered it now. I get so engrossed in the story that I forget the time.

  Chapter 27

  Castle Deverill

  The Past

  Everyone agreed that the Deverill Summer Ball was the most successful ever. Greville was entirely satisfied that traditions had been upheld and Elizabeth was delighted that so many people had congratulated her on a wonderful evening, when she had done nothing but dress and turn up. Hubert was relieved that the Madison Minstrels had been his wife’s choice of entertainment, bearing in mind the alternative. The guests had clapped loudly, though he didn’t think they would have been quite so enthusiastic had it not been for their association with the Prince of Wales. Society is fickle, he thought, and easily led. In his opinion the brothers’ dancing and singing was rather second-rate. Stoke had enjoyed himself immensely. Due to his fine bones (Elizabeth said he was like a cockatoo) he was light on his feet and showed up all the other gentlemen during the quadrille. Augusta was delighted the ball was such a success and told everyone that the Madison Minstrels had been her idea. She was in a position to be gracious because she felt secure that her own Deverill Rising ball in October would be superior. She had hired a small, very elite ballet company from Russia. Apparently, they had danced on the stage at the Yusupov Palace in St Petersburg, in the presence of the Tsar and Tsarina themselves. She would make sure that that little gem of information would somehow slip out on the night. Bertie, who was handsome and genial, had enjoyed himself enormously and even though he was married to one of London’s most celebrated beauties, he had not been able to refrain from flirting with the pretty young ladies. Maud had noticed and minded, but it was early in their marriage and she was too young and insecure to make a fuss. She had already learned that turning cold on him brought him to heel like a bashful puppy. As for Rupert, he had also flirted with the pretty young ladies but, as usual, had not been inspired by any of them.

  As the days shortened and the dazzling summer light mellowed to an early autumn gold, Arethusa kept her word to Rupert. She didn’t pine for Jonas; she let him go. Neither did she seek out windows of pleasure and head off into Ballinakelly in search of Dermot McLoughlin. With a great application of will she forced herself into the present and committed herself fully to the life she was destined to live. There was no point dreaming the impossible for that only brought unhappiness and Arethusa was weary of being unhappy. She dedicated her time to helping her mother plan her wedding and to being an attentive and enthusiastic fiancée to Ronald. Having reconciled herself to the fact that she would never see Jonas again, she gave herself to her intended. He would be hers and she would be his, whether she liked it or not, so it was better to like it. And while she played the part of liking it, she genuinely began to do so.

  Augusta’s ball in October became the most talked about ball of the year. The Prince and Princess of Wales attended, which gave it the glitter Augusta craved, and the Russian dancers were a triumph, performing a scene from Swan Lake with the grace and lightness of fairies. Although Rupert had offended more mothers than he could count, he was forgiven due to his charm and because he was the Marquess of Penrith’s closest friend and no one could resist that connection. Arethusa was also forgiven for having made a fool out of the most eligible gentlemen in London because she was safely engaged to Ronald Rowan-Hampton. The two of them redeemed themselves at Augusta’s ball by being gracious and cheerful and, in a society where good manners were highly prized, being gracious and cheerful counted for a lot.

  Now Arethusa no longer saw Ronald as the obstacle to her happiness, but the only and unavoidable source of it, she began to look at him with different eyes. The fact that she had once laughed at him appalled her
for she wanted to respect him and look up to him. His character reflected on her and if he was considered a fool, so was she. Therefore, she was pleased that he was known as one of the finest horsemen in Ireland and the more people spoke of his accomplishments in the saddle the more she was able to admire him. She observed him as they moved around the room at Augusta’s ball. He was adept at finding exactly the right thing to say to everyone and both women and men clearly enjoyed his company. He was genial and left people feeling good about themselves, which is the key to any successful relationship.

  And who was Arethusa when she was with Ronald? How did he make her feel? The Arethusa Ronald brought out was not passionate, reckless, rebellious or wild. Those qualities that Dermot McLoughlin knew so well had no place in her new life. Nor was she a young girl in love, for that was the Arethusa Jonas knew and she was now gone for ever. With Ronald Arethusa was everything her parents wanted her to be. She was demure, compliant and gracious, obedient, decorous and poised. Indeed, she felt clever because Ronald did not have a brilliant mind. She felt witty, because Ronald was not funny. She felt beautiful, because Ronald never ceased to tell her so, and she felt cherished, because Ronald was attentive and kind.

  The better she got to know him the more she realized that they had a great deal in common. They shared their opinions on God and religion, their love of Ireland and the importance of family. And even though Ronald, like Arethusa’s father and grandfather, did not bother himself with concerns for the poor, she was sure she could educate him.

  Arethusa was determined to make life without Jonas work. She believed she was making real progress and beginning to like the person she was when she was with Ronald. Then she missed her menses for the third month.

  Arethusa had barely troubled herself over the first two – she had missed the odd menses in the past and was often late, but to miss it three times gave her cause for worry. She did not think she was pregnant. Women who were pregnant suffered from morning sickness, everyone knew that, and she hadn’t felt a moment’s nausea. She had heard that unhappiness or strain could cause a woman to miss her menses, but since she had let Jonas go she did not believe she had been unhappy. To the contrary, she was beginning to find happiness with Ronald. What perturbed her more than the possibility of being pregnant was that perhaps she was fooling herself that she was happy and all her hard work was simply a dressing over a wound that was deeper than she realized.

  She decided to confide in Charlotte.

  ‘My God!’ Charlotte gasped, sinking onto the window seat in Arethusa’s bedroom and putting a hand to her chest. ‘That can only mean one thing.’ She looked at Arethusa with terrified eyes.

  Arethusa sighed huffily. ‘You don’t need to be dramatic, Charlotte. I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘Is there any possibility, Tussy?’

  Arethusa hesitated for a second before she replied. ‘Of course not! What are you suggesting?’ But that moment’s hesitation put fear into Charlotte’s heart.

  Charlotte began to mentally count the months. Then she stood up and took Arethusa’s hands. ‘Tussy, it’s three months since the ball. I won’t be cross, but you have to be honest with me. When you went for a walk around the garden, were you in fact meeting a lover?’ Arethusa’s mouth opened to protest. ‘Tussy, if you are pregnant you won’t be able to hide it much longer.’ Her voice was firm now and Arethusa blinked at her apprehensively.

  She sat down on the window seat and put her hands in her lap. Charlotte sat beside her and waited for her to speak. Arethusa was now beginning to feel fear in her own heart. ‘I do have a lover,’ she said. When Charlotte’s face crumpled with despair, she added crossly, ‘My life is just duty, duty, duty. I needed something for myself, Charlotte.’

  Charlotte was white. She looked as if she was about to cry. ‘You could have had any amount of things for yourself, but not that.’

  ‘I have missed my menses before.’

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘Don’t be naive, Tussy. You know how these things work. Goodness, I’ve educated you myself. I should have done a better job of it. If you are indeed pregnant, you will be ruined.’

  Arethusa began to pick her nails. She thought of all the times Dermot McLoughlin had made love to her and never once had her body let her down. ‘I am not pregnant, Charlotte. I can’t be.’

  ‘If you have had intercourse with a man, Tussy, you can be.’

  She’d had intercourse with two, in the space of a few days!

  Arethusa stood up and began pacing the floor. ‘I must see a doctor.’

  ‘I will call for Dr Johnson. You must pretend you are sick. If it is, indeed, something else, we don’t want him to know we ever considered pregnancy.’

  Arethusa looked at Charlotte and frowned. ‘If I am pregnant, what do I do?’

  Charlotte looked at Arethusa and sighed. ‘Pray,’ she replied.

  Chapter 28

  Ballinakelly, 1961

  It is three in the morning when I am struck with the shocking truth. Mother was most certainly pregnant. But that is not all. She would not have known whether she was carrying Dermot McLoughlin’s baby, or Jonas Madison’s.

  I shut the book, not daring to read on, and lean back against the pillows with a sinking feeling. This has knocked me for six. Truly, it has. Mother had a wild and reckless streak that would be outrageous today, but to behave like that in the last century was simply foolhardy. Now I know why she fell out with her parents. They must have despaired of her. She was about to marry a suitable man who would look after her. Her future was settled. Then this! My heart swells with compassion; everything was going so well.

  I have an urgent need to share this with Cormac. But I must wait until morning. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep. I’m going to turn this over and over in my head and drive myself crazy. I recall my mother’s will. She has left a third of her wealth to an anonymous person. Well, it seems very obvious to me now that this anonymous person must be her illegitimate child. But who is he – or she? I’ll have to share this with my brother. Logan will be furious. We’ll have to find this stranger and inform them that their birth mother has died and left them a considerable amount of money. Do they even know they are Arethusa Deverill’s child? If not, that will really set the cat among the pigeons. I assume she gave birth in America, but what became of the child after that? I have a vision of an orphanage, a miserable childhood, a life in penury while Logan and I were brought up in a world of privilege and comfort. I feel wretched. This is now getting complicated, and serious.

  What has become clear, however, is why my mother wanted me to read the diary rather than Logan. If she had left it to my brother he would have probably thrown it into the fire in a fit of temper. But she knew I, the dutiful, acquiescent daughter, would follow her instructions to the letter and persuade Logan to carry out her wishes. I’m doing exactly as she planned. I’m reading her story, in her own words, in order to better understand her, so that when I discover that I have a half-sibling I am compassionate. Had she simply stated in her will that a third of her wealth must go to her illegitimate child both Logan and I would have been angry and horrified. This way, I’m not; I’m saddened. I feel sorry for her for getting into trouble. But I also understand her motives for sleeping with both men. I don’t condemn her; I empathize with her, which is exactly what she wanted me to do.

  The following morning Kitty is not at breakfast. She is out riding. I have breakfast in the dining room with Robert. We talk a little but mostly he reads the newspaper. I’m relieved I don’t have to make conversation with him. I find him difficult to talk to. I wonder whether he was a more animated man when he was younger. Or perhaps she needed a solid presence to temper her capricious nature. I finish my breakfast in haste and retreat to my bedroom to wait for Cormac. I’m longing to see him. I stand at the window and gaze out onto the drive. When his Jeep appears at the gate my heart gives a leap. I grab Mom’s diary and hurry down the stairs to meet him. I’m relieved Robert is not in the h
all this time to give me a disapproving look. I barely give Wyatt a thought. While I’m here, so far from home, Wyatt is not a concern. Nor are my children. They are old enough to look after themselves. For the first time in my life I am looking after me.

  I climb into the Jeep. Cormac and I exchange a knowing look, acknowledging our intimacy and the need to conceal it until we are out in the lane. As soon as the car turns the corner, he stops on the kerb, pulls me to him and kisses me. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he says.

  ‘And I’ve missed you too,’ I reply.

  ‘Shall we go and make up for lost time?’ he asks and there’s that irresistible twinkle in his eye.

  ‘I think we’d better,’ I answer with a smile. ‘As a tour guide you do want to keep your client happy, don’t you?’ He laughs and I run my fingers down the creases in his cheek.

  ‘And if my client would like to have a music lesson, I might be able to fit it in to our very busy schedule.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘That’s grand. Today’s all arranged then.’ He pulls out into the lane. ‘So, did you get to read the diary last night?’

  ‘I did and I need to talk to you about it.’

  ‘Oh? It was bad, was it?’

  I sigh. I don’t know where to begin. I decide to cut to the chase. I tell him what I read and then I take a deep breath and add, ‘Mom got pregnant but she doesn’t know whether it’s Dermot McLoughlin’s baby or Jonas Madison’s.’