The House (Armstrong House Series Book 1)

by A. O'Connor

  Pierce had got word there were suspected rebels in the wooded hills high above the lake. He had brought some of his men and they were quietly making their way through the trees to search for them. Pierce gave a signal and the men separated out to cover more area. Pierce found himself on his own, holding his revolver in his hand as he moved through the trees. All he could hear was the birds singing loudly. He stopped and looked up through the tall fir trees to the blue sky above.

  “Drop the gun,” a voice suddenly said.

  One of the rebels was standing there with a gun pointing straight at him.

  Pierce realised he had no choice and carefully placed the gun on the ground. The rebel kicked it out of the way. The rebel took aim, finger on the trigger. Pierce stared at him, his dark eyes boring into him. The man paused for a moment and then steadied his aim again. But Pierce’s eyes continued to stare. The silence was suddenly disrupted by gunfire in the distance. The rebel glanced away, took a final look at Pierce and then ran, disappearing into the woods. Pierce sat down on a log and held his head in his hands as he began to shake.

  “Sir, are you all right?” said one of his men finding him there.

  “Yes, quite all right – let’s get back to base.” Pierce picked up his gun and quickly retreated.

  84

  Clara hardly dared breathe as she drove into Johnny’s drive and felt relieved to see his car parked there. She got out, walked up to the door and pulled on the doorbell. A minute later Johnny appeared, looking shocked to see her.

  “I’m sorry to just appear like this, I should have warned you,” she said.

  “No! Not at all! Come in.” He put his arm round her shoulders and brought her inside.

  He led her into the sitting room.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as they sat down on the couch.

  “Everything. I can’t go on, Johnny. Living with him. I can’t stand it any more.” She became distressed and her voice cracked. “You’ve no idea. He’s like one of those machines they sent into battle against the Germans. There’s no feeling with him, towards me – towards anything!”

  “It’s all right,” he soothed as he rubbed her back. “I’m here. We can get through this.”

  “I don’t want to get through it – I want to get away from it, from him. As far as possible.”

  “Do you mean it?”

  “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

  “But what about the scandal, the talk?”

  “Bugger it! I don’t care.”

  He held her shoulders tightly and looked into her eyes. “Are you saying . . . you want to be with me?”

  She nodded and smiled. “If you still want me?”

  “Of course I do.” He pulled her to him.

  They spent the afternoon curled up on his couch, his arms around her.

  “I forgot what this felt like,” she said as he stroked her hair. “To have this closeness, this understanding.”

  “Well, we’ll be like this all the time from now on. Are we agreed on what we’re going to do?”

  “Yes – we’ll leave for Dublin and then go on to London and explain everything to my family. Then we’ll go to New York until the scandal dies down.”

  “I can make a mint painting portraits for all those American millionaires.”

  “A dreamer as ever,” she smiled at him. “Don’t ever lose that.”

  “We need to do it quickly. There’s no point hanging around.”

  She looked at her watch. It was four in the afternoon. “I’ll go back and tell Pierce now. Then I’ll pack what I can and you come and collect me at nine this evening and we’ll drive straight for Dublin.”

  “Do you want me to go with you to talk to Pierce?”

  “No, I’m better off on my own.”

  “How do you think he’ll take it?”

  “I don’t think he’ll care that much, to be honest. He’ll be glad to see the back of me.”

  She got up and he walked her to the door and held her.

  “I’ll see you at nine,” she said and kissed him before walking to her car.

  Fennell opened the front door for Clara.

  “Where is Lord Armstrong?”

  “He’s in the drawing room”

  “Alone?”

  “Indeed.”

  “See that we’re not disturbed, please,” she said, handing Fennell her hat, coat and gloves. She steadied herself as she neared the door and then went into the drawing room. Pierce was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, having a whiskey.

  “There you are,” he said. “Mrs Fennell has been going on about no potatoes or some such nonsense. Deal with her, will you?”

  She walked around the room for a while before sitting opposite him. “Pierce, there’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come out with it – I’m leaving you.”

  He lit a cigar. “I see! You’re heading back to London?”

  “At first. We hope to then go on to New York.”

  “We?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I’ve been seeing Johnny Seymour. I’m sorry.”

  He stared at her. “So you’re one of Johnny’s girls now, are you? You seldom fail to surprise.”

  “I hope to be his only girl from now on, not part of a club.”

  “Hmmm, I wonder if he hopes the same? What about the scandal? You’ll be swimming in it.”

  “I don’t care any more. It’s better than what we have here.”

  He put out the cigar, knocked back his drink, and coughed. He then got up and walked over to the drink decanters on the cabinet and poured himself another glass.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight. Johnny’s collecting me at nine.”

  Pierce’s body suddenly shook. His hand dropped the glass he was holding and he let out a low gasp.

  “Oh Pierce!” She got up quickly and walked over to him, put her arms around him and leaned her face against his back. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best – for both of us.”

  He had regained his composure and he moved away from her.

  “And you think Johnny Seymour, the court jester, can make you happy?”

  “He does make me happy, Pierce. That’s the difference between you and him. Before we married I thought only you could make me happy. But I’ve never been actually happy with you. At the beginning I could live with your coldness and you being removed from everything. But since you’ve come back from the war your coldness has developed into cruelty and I can’t take that. Not just with me, but with everyone. The way you enjoy this war as you do. It’s like you need to be at war, you survive on it. And I think the only thing you’re really fighting is what’s in your head.”

  “Yes – well – there’s probably nothing left to be said if you’ve made up your mind. Goodbye, Clara.”

  “Goodbye,” she nodded and left the room.

  She felt an incredible sense of relief and freedom as she walked through the hall to the stairs. She ran up the stairs and into the bedroom. She found her suitcases in her dressing room, opened it on the bed and began quickly to pack. She would be able to take only the minimum but it couldn’t be helped. She could get the Fennells to pack up the rest of her things and hopefully Pierce would agree to send them after her.

  She heard the front door bang and she went to look out the window. She saw Pierce walk across the forecourt to his open-topped car. The driver saluted him and opened the back door. Pierce sat in and the driver drove them away.

  She had left her suitcases by the front door and called Mr and Mrs Fennell in to see her in the drawing room.

  “Leaving? But leaving for where?” asked Fennell.

  “You’ll hear it soon enough so I may as well be honest with you. I’m leaving with Johnny Seymour.”

  “Johnny Seymour!” they exclaimed together.

  “Yes. We’re starting a new life together.”

  The Fennells looked at each other in amazement.

  “I’m only taking a few suitcases now
and I’d appreciate it if you could pack up the rest of my clothes and personal possessions into a few trunks. I hope to arrange with Lord Armstrong to have them sent after me.”

  “Of course, my lady,” said Fennell.

  “So I just want to thank you for all the service and support and friendship through the years.”

  “Well, em, it’s been a pleasure to serve you,” said Mrs Fennell, nodding. “You were a complete lady.” Then she thought about the elopement with Johnny Seymour. “Almost to the end.”

  Clara tried not to laugh but got up and went to them both and kissed them on the cheeks. “Goodbye – friends.”

  Mrs Fennell wiped away tears as she and Fennell left the room.

  “‘Friends’?” said Mrs Fennell in astonishment.

  “Always was the most unusual young woman,” said Fennell.

  Looking at her watch, Clara saw it was nearly nine. She sat on the couch in the drawing room which gave her a view out to the front, waiting for Johnny to arrive. She smiled to herself, thinking how Johnny had never been early for anything in his life, and that night was obviously to be no different.

  Time crawled by and she began to pace up and down the room, smoking, too nervous to do anything else to distract herself.

  Pierce had not returned.

  She lit up another cigarette and walked over to the window to see if she could see the lights of his car coming. She bit her lower lip and started to pace again as she saw it was a quarter past ten. She quickly walked out to the hall, lifted the phone and tried to get through to Johnny’s house, but there was no answer. She walked back into the drawing room and resumed her pacing.

  As the clock struck eleven o’clock, she could hear a car pull up outside and she excitedly jumped up and raced to the window. But it was Pierce returning. She turned quickly and sat down in an armchair. Lighting up another cigarette, she crossed her legs.

  A minute later Pierce walked in.

  “Oh hello! I’d thought you’d be gone by now,” he said.

  “Johnny’s running a bit late.”

  “Story of Johnny’s life!” Pierce looked down at his watch. “But it’s after eleven! I thought you said he’d be here at nine for you.”

  “As I said, he’s running late.”

  “Has he rung you to tell you that?” He waited for her answer. “From your non-answer, I’ll take that as a no.” Pierce walked slowly to the couch and sat down shaking his head. “I know it was never your strength to face facts, but I think in this case you’re going to have to. I think your lover boy isn’t going to show up, my darling.”

  Clara blinked a few times as her eyes filled with tears.

  “I think your lover boy got one whiff of you wanting to make a permanent arrangement and has done a runner, Clara. Fled up to Dublin to find his next paramour. Oh, the words I picked up in France. It was an education.”

  He viewed Clara as her eyes continued to well up.

  “No – I must put you out of your misery and not be cruel, as you were accusing me of being earlier. The truth is Johnny boy has been locked up.”

  “Locked up!”

  “Yes, his car was intercepted by my military personnel on his way over here to collect you – on my orders.”

  “But you can’t just arrest somebody like that!”

  “I think you’ll find I can. There’s martial law and internment in place. I can have anybody I see as a threat arrested and detained for as long as I want.”

  “As a threat to the country’s security – not to your marriage!” she screamed at him.

  “Oh, let’s not get bogged down on the details,” he said in a blasé fashion.

  His face became serious as he lit up a cigarette. “Actually, Johnny Seymour is a threat to national security as well though, isn’t he?”

  “No, he’s not!”

  “All those shady characters he knows, hanging around with subversives. And then of course there is the fact he hid and helped Thomas Geraghty to escape, didn’t he?”

  Clara went pale.

  “With you as his accomplice. Hiding him here in the house.”

  She looked down at the ground. “How did you know?”

  “Prudence, of course. She was sending me blow-by-blow accounts of your activities with Johnny Seymour. Out rowing across the lake, long nights in front of the fire here, romantic Christmases together. All under the guise of the longest time ever known to the art world to paint a damned portrait.”

  “You knew about me and Johnny all along?”

  “Of course. Oh I didn’t care, I can assure you. But when she reported it was getting serious, I thought I’d better get back and stop it. Good old Pru. She used to race up here whenever she heard a car turning up here at night to spy through windows or use her key to come in and look through keyholes. And that’s how she saw you were hiding Thomas Geraghty here. Oh, Clara – the things we do for love!”

  “You’ve just said yourself you don’t care, so why have you arrested Johnny?”

  “Oh, I don’t care what you do, but I do care what people think – even if you don’t any more. I’m not ruining my reputation and the family name because my wife ran off with a circus performer! I want you to listen carefully, because this is how it is going to be. You will not contact Johnny Seymour again. To be honest he will not want to contact you anyway because I told him it was you who had betrayed him to me about Thomas Geraghty and set him up this evening to be cornered and arrested.”

  “He’ll never believe that!”

  “Oh he did, I can assure you.”

  “You bastard!”

  “That’s as may be. However, from now on, when you leave the house you will be driven by an army chauffeur. If you try to leave me – get a train to Dublin, for example – you will be immediately arrested and charged with hiding Thomas Geraghty and interned in a women’s prison. The term is treason, I believe.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Of course I would! I’d have nothing to lose in that situation. In fact I would be obliged to arrest you lest you go off and engage in other subversive activities. I am taking a risk as it is by not arresting you right now. So, yes, I’d have you thrown into prison and throw away the keys, tried for treason even. You might have thought your family would forgive you a divorce, but I can’t see them forgiving you being found guilty of being a traitor to the Crown.”

  “What else?” she said quietly.

  “You will speak to nobody of this. You will not mention it in letters or over the phone. If I discover you have done so, the same penalty will apply. You will remain in this house and in this marriage for ever.”

  “So I am to be a prisoner here?”

  “I think we understand each other,” he said.

  They sat in silence for a long time. She eventually got up and walked quietly from the room. Leaving her suitcases standing by the door, she climbed the stairs, stumbling once before pulling herself together and continuing. She went to their room, collapsed on the bed and cried.

  The next morning Pierce was having breakfast and reading the newspaper while Fennell poured him coffee. Suddenly the door opened and Clara walked in and went and sat in her normal place, looking composed.

  Fennell nearly dropped the coffee pot as he looked at her in astonishment.

  Pierce watched her.

  “I’ll just have a light breakfast, please, Fennell,” she said. “And pour me some coffee.”

  Fennell nodded and walked over and filled her cup.

  Pierce coughed loudly. “Lord Harrington and some others will be having dinner here tonight – will you be joining us?”

  “Yes,” said Clara. “Perhaps if Mrs Fennell sends up some dinner suggestions, I’ll select what to prepare, Fennell.”

  “Very good, my lady,” nodded Fennell before quickly leaving the room.

  Pierce took up his paper again and continued to read, while Clara drank her coffee in silence.

  85

  As the months went by, Clara got
used to her house arrest. She had ventured down to the town a few times, under the scrutiny of her army chauffeur as Pierce had threatened, but she didn’t feel welcome there any more as the locals shunned her, so preferred to stay in the house or gardens.

  Clara and Pierce never made reference to Johnny Seymour again. To onlookers their marriage seemed the same as ever. To Pierce it seemed the same as ever. Clara disguised her hatred of him, just maintaining a cool distance. She had waited for Johnny to make contact, but he never did. Even if he had been released, she imagined he believed she had betrayed him to Pierce about Thomas Geraghty and hated her for it. Besides, Pierce went through her post every morning before she was allowed access to it. She wondered if Pierce would really have her arrested if she tried to leave him. After all, it would be the greatest possible disgrace for him to have his wife convicted of treason. But she daren’t call his bluff.