by Anna King
She had made her way confidently across the arid winter lawn to where Michael was busily engaged on building a rockery. But the meeting hadn’t gone as she’d expected, for the moment he had turned to greet her, she had been lost. What she had talked about she couldn’t remember, only the dryness of her mouth and the sudden trembling of her body remained firmly etched into her memory. And when he had taken her arm and enquired solicitously if she was feeling cold, she had hurriedly pulled away and left him staring after her as she had walked across the lawn, her haste making her uneven gait more noticeable. She had tried her best to avoid him after that humiliating day, but it wasn’t always easy. Some days, when Rosie and Agnes were busy, she would be forced to go to the kitchen for Lady Caldworthy’s meals, and more often than not she would find him there, his sturdy hands clasped firmly round a steaming mug of strong tea as he chatted to Mrs Rodgers. On these occasions she would collect the waiting tray and leave immediately, refusing stoutly any offers of help with the climb back to the top floor. Even her precious afternoons by the fire had been sacrificed in an effort to avoid him. She knew Mrs Rodgers was hurt and puzzled by this sudden change in her attitude, but she couldn’t sit in the same room as him for long, for fear that some action or expression on her part would reveal her feelings, and she must avoid that at all costs. The wisest thing she could do was to leave here now and return home, but she knew she would never willingly give up her job. Lady Caldworthy needed her, and despite the old woman’s moods and tempers, Ruby had grown genuinely fond of her. Besides, painful as it was to be near someone you loved, knowing that love would never be returned, it would be infinitely more so never to see him again.
‘Bye for now, Michael. I’ll see you later.’
Ruby heard Agnes call out her farewell, and looked longingly at the open window. Blowing her cheeks out impatiently, she walked over to it. She knew she was torturing herself needlessly, but what of it? Sneaking a glimpse of him was the only pleasure she had. Carefully pulling back the curtain she gazed down, then jumped with fright as she saw Michael directly beneath her window staring straight into her startled eyes. She stood rooted to the spot, her heart thumping wildly as she tried to control her rapid breathing, hoping he would say something and so break this paralysing spell that seemed to be turning her very bones to water. But still he stood silently, his eyes boring into her, until with an agonising cry she tore herself away and, leaning against the wall, she whispered urgently, ‘Oh, Michael, what am I going to do? Whatever am I going to do?’
* * *
‘Would you like me to read to you tonight, Lady Caldworthy? I thought perhaps we could start on Lord Chesterfield’s Letters to his Son. It has many amusing passages you might enjoy.’ Ruby stood by the bookshelf, her hand resting on a slim brown book.
‘You may find them amusing. I on the other hand find them tedious in the extreme,’ Lady Caldworthy said irritably. ‘How the man managed to get them published is a mystery to me. In particular, the letter advocating the use of a handkerchief instead of picking one’s nose. Did you know the son in question was his bastard?’
Ruby coloured slightly. ‘No, ma’am, I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, he was.’ The old lady turned in her chair. ‘And, that being the case, you would have thought he would want to keep them secret, instead of showing them to the world! Now if it’s interesting letters you want, you’ll find plenty in the bottom drawer of my writing-desk, but it would be a brave publisher that would put them into print,’ she ended with a chuckle. The sight of Ruby’s face caused her to laugh louder. ‘I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I, girl? Well, no matter, pick out one of the new books you brought from your last visit home. Better still, you can start on that Stowe woman’s book. When you’ve finished, we can have a lively discussion on the pro’s and con’s of slavery.’
Ruby settled herself comfortably in her chair, determined to forget about Michael for at least a few hours, and what better way than between the pages of a good book. Turning back the cover, she began to read.
CHAPTER 1
In which the reader is introduced to a Man of Humanity.
Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February two gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine in a well-furnished dining-parlour in the town of…
She broke off suddenly as a knock sounded at the door.
‘Now, who the devil can that be?’ Lady Caldworthy exclaimed irritably before calling out, ‘Come in.’
‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, I was wondering if I could be having a few words with you?’ Michael O’Brien stood in the doorway, his handsome face solemn, his manner respectful.
At the sound of his voice, Ruby had started nervously, causing the book on her lap to slide to the floor. Grateful for any kind of diversion, she bent forward to retrieve it, her long hair falling forward to cover the excitement on her face.
‘Well, what is it?’
The question was barked at the unexpected intruder, and Michael, focusing his attention on his employer, who at this moment was looking very angry indeed, said quickly, ‘I was wondering, ma’am, if I could start a small vegetable plot at the far end of the garden. There’s nothing growing there at the moment, and it would be perfect for the growing of potatoes and turnips, and maybe even cabbages… If you’re agreeable, ma’am.’
‘A vegetable plot?’ The words held a note of incredulity. ‘You have interrupted my evening and invaded my privacy to talk about vegetable plots? Have you taken leave of your senses, young man? Any business concerning the garden or any other duties you are required to perform is the responsibility of Mr Masters. If you have any complaints or requests, I suggest you make them to the appropriate person. Now leave me, and do not let me catch you in this part of the house again. Your place is downstairs.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.’ Michael briefly touched his forehead and turned to go.
‘Wait a minute, young man. While you are here, and since you have taken the liberty of bearding me in my den, I don’t suppose it will hurt me to listen to what you have to say. Come over here so that I can get a better look at you.’
Michael turned round slowly and was surprised and a little disconcerted to feel the shrewd intelligent eyes appraising him. This was no doddery old woman he would be able to charm as he had charmed so many of his previous employers. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see right through him, and was forced to bow his head against the piercing gaze. He would have to tread warily, very warily indeed.
Michael was correct in his evaluation, for Mabel Caldworthy had met many Michael O’Briens in her day – charming, handsome men who strolled through life surviving on their wits and the susceptibility of foolish women eager to part with their money at the first sight of a good-looking man. She had nothing against these men, reserving her scorn instead for the stupid women who were so readily taken in. Her eyes raked his body. He was a handsome specimen, no doubt about that, and for a moment she felt a pang for the passing of time. Forty years ago she would have played him at his own game and enjoyed doing it, but those days were long gone. Shifting her position slightly, she snapped, ‘What is your name?’
‘Michael Sean O’Brien, ma’am.’
‘Well, that answers my second question before I’ve asked it. There’s not much doubt where you hail from. I’ve met many of your countrymen, rogues most of them, charming people blessed with a silver tongue, but rogues nevertheless. Tell me about yourself, Mr O’Brien. I’m curious to know what a man like you is doing working in such a lowly occupation.’
‘Well now, ma’am,’ Michael answered, his confidence returning, ‘I’ve always been good with the soil, and there’s nothing gives me greater pleasure than to work in the open air. It’s a grand feeling, so it is. It’s as if I’m me own master.’
‘And you think that one day you will achieve that ambition? To be your own master?’
‘Nothing’s impossible, ma’am, if a man’s prepared to work for what he wants. Bu
t for now, I’m very happy where I am, and hope to stay here for as long as I make meself useful.’
‘That being the case, I see no reason why you shouldn’t remain here for quite some time.’ Lady Caldworthy tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, uncomfortably aware of the magnetism of the man standing before her. His very presence was stirring feelings in her she had thought long dead, and if he could affect her tired-out old body, he must be wreaking havoc below stairs, especially with Agnes. That flighty piece would run after a broom if it was wearing trousers! Thank the Lord, Ruby was well out of his way. Casting an affectionate look at her young companion, her smile faltered, her body stiffening in alarm. Unaware she was being watched, Ruby had let her guard down momentarily, but it was long enough for Lady Caldworthy to see the look of adoration on her face.
‘Dear God, no! She couldn’t be falling for the man. She never had the opportunity to come across his path, had she?’ Closing her eyes briefly, she shook her head as if trying to ward off an unpleasant image, and when she opened them again Ruby’s face was once again impassive. But she hadn’t been mistaken a moment ago. She could only hope it was mere infatuation on Ruby’s part, and that the man had no inkling of her feelings. But why had he come here this evening? Certainly not to ask permission to start an allotment! She had seen through that ruse straight away, but had imagined it an excuse to introduce himself to her, maybe to ingratiate himself, taking advantage of the fact that Mr Masters was off today.
‘Lady Caldworthy, are you all right? You look very pale. Shall I help you to bed?’ Ruby was bending over her, her face full of concern.
So agitated was she that she slapped at Ruby’s arm, pushing her away before returning her steely gaze to the man. When she saw the mocking smile on his full lips and the impudent look in his eyes, she actually cried out in dismay.
‘Oh, Lady Caldworthy, what is it? Shall I send for Dr Benson?’
Ruby was once again by her side, and as she stared into the innocent face that had become so dear to her, she felt her strength return. Gently she patted Ruby’s arm. ‘Just a minor bout of dizziness, dear. I’m perfectly all right now.’ Then, turning once again to Michael, she said in a clear firm voice, ‘I’m glad you decided to visit us, Mr O’Brien. I don’t normally meet my outdoor staff so the experience has been quite a revelation.’
Michael returned her unblinking stare. Then, with a disarming smile, he lightly touched his forehead before turning his back on the two women, closing the door behind him.
No sooner was the door shut than Ruby hastily walked over to the mahogany sideboard where Lady Caldworthy’s medicines were kept. Careful to avoid her employer’s gaze, she began to measure out the mixture.
Lady Caldworthy looked at Ruby’s stiff back and called out softly, ‘Ruby, leave that for a minute. I wish to talk to you.’
‘I’m preparing your evening medication, ma’am. Dr Benson was most insistent you should take it at the prescribed times.’ Ruby’s voice was muffled as she tried to compose herself before facing the enquiring eyes she knew were scrutinising her.
‘I’ll take my medicine later. At present I have more important things on my mind. Stop fussing with those bottles and come here. Now, Ruby.’ The last two words were issued in the form of a command, and Ruby, inhaling deeply, turned round ready to stave off the penetrating questions she knew were coming, but when she saw the wrinkled face full of pity and concern, her resolve broke, and without thinking she half ran to Lady Caldworthy’s side. Dropping awkwardly to the floor she buried her face into the camphor-scented folds of the old lady’s dress.
Lady Caldworthy looked down upon the bowed head, her gnarled hand resting on the crown of thick glossy auburn hair. Her faded blue eyes full of compassion, she wondered what tone to take before adopting the line she had always used: straight and to the point. Having decided on her course of action, she said without preamble, ‘Is there something between you and Michael O’Brien? And, if so, how far has it gone?’
Hearing the bluntness of the words, Ruby shuddered, then, lifting her head, she said simply, ‘There is nothing between us, Lady Caldworthy. We often talk when we meet in the gardens, but he has always treated me with the utmost respect. He feels nothing for me other than friendship. There has never been any attempt at impropriety on his side, on that you have my word. So, you see, you have nothing to worry about.’ Her words trailed off miserably, and then, her voice breaking, she added fiercely, ‘But, oh, God, how I wish there were. I love him. I know it’s hopeless, but I can’t help the way I feel. I love him so much that it hurts!’
The intensity of her words touched a chord in Lady Caldworthy’s heart, and the part of her that was once young found empathy with Ruby’s anguish. She waited until Ruby’s sobs had quietened, and then, lifting up the trembling chin, she said, ‘I am very sad to see you in such distress, child, and I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I must speak the truth as I see it. Come, lay your head in my lap and listen. What I am going to say will undoubtedly hurt you, but please believe me when I tell you that I have only your best interests at heart.’
Ruby felt her body shrink but she nodded her head, too drained to make any rejoinder, telling herself that no matter what Lady Caldworthy said, nothing would change the feelings she had for Michael.
Lady Caldworthy leaned back in her chair, lost for a moment in the past, and then, stroking Ruby’s hair, she began to speak. ‘I’m an old woman, Ruby, past my three score years and ten, but as with many old people, the past is often clearer to me than the present. I can remember what it was like to be young, to feel the strong vitality of life coursing through my veins, and I can still recall what it was like to be in love: that glorious feeling that is part pain and part pleasure. The feeling of exquisite excitement when I saw the young man of the moment walking towards me and my heart would begin to pound. My whole being seeming to melt and dissolve at the sight of a warm smile or the touch of a hand on mine.’ Her voice faltered for a moment as memories came rushing back.
The sudden movement of Ruby’s body jerked her back to the present and, putting an arm round the young girl’s shoulders, she pulled her closer before continuing. ‘I was about your age, maybe a little older, when I first met Patrick Flynn. He was a groom at my father’s stables. At first I didn’t take any notice of him. He was only a groom, after all, and I was the young lady of the house. I don’t even remember when I first realised I was falling in love with him. My father was delighted at my sudden interest in his beloved horses, for I’d never shown any before. He never suspected for a moment the purpose behind my daily visits to the stables. I wasn’t sure myself; I only knew that I couldn’t let a day pass without looking at the handsome Irishman with the laughing eyes. Patrick himself never knew of my feelings for him, for I was always very careful to remain aloof when I was in his presence. Then one day I was out riding on Hackney Marshes, and I met him returning from his day off. He walked alongside me and suddenly there was a tremendous thunderstorm. Patrick grabbed hold of the horse’s bridle and led us to an old shed on the edge of the park. We were drenched to the skin and I can remember laughing and talking too loudly, conscious of the fact that we were alone in the dark shed. And then the laughing stopped…’
Ruby lifted her head and stared in amazement at the face above hers. The years seemed to have vanished from the old lady’s face, the eyes appeared clearer and the lines softer, and for a brief moment she caught a glimpse of the beauty that had once been. Her own troubles forgotten, she asked quietly, ‘What happened then?’
The wrinkled hand came out and tapped Ruby gently on the cheek. ‘That, child, I will leave to your imagination,’ she answered wickedly, the familiar grin lighting up her face.
Ruby felt her cheeks redden, and stuttered quickly, ‘No, I mean… What happened to Patrick?’
The smile slipped from the old lady’s face as she recalled, ‘We had four glorious months together, months of loving and laughing, and I thought it would
go on forever. Then I discovered I was pregnant, a natural thing to happen under the circumstances. I was so afraid… afraid of what my parents would do when they found out, but more afraid that Patrick would leave me. When I told him, he insisted we go at once to my parents and tell them we wanted to get married. I was horrified at the suggestion – not that I didn’t want to marry him, as it was what I wanted more than anything in life, but I knew my parents would never agree. Well-brought-up ladies did not marry below their class. It wasn’t done, and it still isn’t done.’
The implication wasn’t lost on Ruby, but before she could interject, the old lady swept on, ‘I was terrified at the prospect of facing my parents, but such was the power of Patrick’s persuasion that I began to believe that everything would be all right. How naive I was, or maybe I was simply so much in love that I believed my parents would see Patrick as I saw him. There was a terrible confrontation when my mother, bless her, fainted clean away. My father never uttered a word, but drew back his fist and hit him straight between the eyes. Patrick never had a chance to retaliate. Before he could get to his feet, my father, with the aid of his valet, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him from the room and out of the house. I was nearly hysterical by this time and ran screaming after them, proclaiming loudly that I was going to marry him and nobody was going to stop me. And there was poor Patrick sprawled on the gravel outside the house, looking bewildered and angry. I think, in retrospect, it was the loss of dignity that offended him the most. I was kept a virtual prisoner for the next few days and refused to eat or drink until I could see Patrick again. At last, fearful for my wellbeing, my father agreed to let me go to the house where he knew Patrick was then working. He even gave his permission for us to marry on condition that I wouldn’t expect him to support us. If I was insistent on marrying a groom, then I must be prepared to live the life of a groom’s wife. I was ecstatic; I didn’t care about my father’s money, I only wanted Patrick. I couldn’t wait to get to him and tell him the good news. I was so excited that I never noticed him drawing away from me. Oh, he said all the right things, assured me that nothing mattered but being together, that the money was unimportant, and he would love me forever– and I believed him, young impressionable fool that I was! He told me to leave the wedding arrangements to him and that as soon as we were married he would take me to a house he knew of where they needed a groom and a housemaid. I kissed him goodbye and hurried home full of plans, not giving a thought to the hurt I would be inflicting on my parents. But then, the young are often cruel. When I arrived back at the house, my father met me in the hall. He asked just one question: “Did you tell him there would be no money coming to you?”, to which I replied grandly that I had, and it made no difference. He merely nodded his head and walked into his study, shutting the door. He was a very wise man, my father. Of course I never saw Patrick again. When I returned to the house where he had been working, I was told he had gone off in the night without even waiting for his wages. That was over 50 years ago, but sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up and still feel the dreadful soul-destroying hurt and ache I felt that day.’
