The House (Armstrong House Series Book 1)

by A. O'Connor

  “Good evening, Barton,” said Charles, stepping into the hall and removing his coat.

  “Ah, Master Charles, welcome home. We were beginning to worry you had been held up and wouldn’t make it.”

  “And miss my sister’s debutante ball? I don’t think the family would ever forgive me, do you?” Charles handed his coat over to Barton and saw that there were staff rushing around in all directions.

  “Where’s the family?” asked Charles.

  “Your father is in the drawing room with some guests and your mother is upstairs in Miss Gwyneth’s room preparing the young lady for the night ahead. Your sisters and brother are with her.”

  Charles handed Barton his coat. “I’ll go up to say hello then in that case. My trunk is in the carriage – please have it brought up to my room.”

  Barton looked awkward. “I’m afraid, sir, that due to the large volume of guests staying in the house tonight your room has been commandeered.”

  “Commandeered?”

  “Yes, sir, your room has been allocated to Lord and Lady Kinsale.”

  “I see.” Charles’s face was a mixture of surprise and irritation.

  “And where am I to sleep, Barton?”

  “Your mother has had a bed set up for you in your brother Harrison’s room.”

  “The whole thing is a bit of a nuisance, isn’t it, Barton? Such a fuss over trying to marry a sister off. Let’s hope the deed is done tonight and that’s the end of it and we don’t have to go through another season of Gwyneth trying to find a husband.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “Very well – have my trunk taken to Harrison’s room.”

  Charles walked across the expansive hall and up the stairs. He passed two young female guests who he didn’t recognise.

  “Ladies,” he said, nodding to them.

  They smiled and nodded to him and giggled once he was past them.

  Upstairs he walked down the corridor to Gwyneth’s room and, opening the door, stood for a moment taking in the scene before him. Gwyneth was sitting at her dressing table in front of the mirror, dressed in a resplendent gown, as two beauticians styled her blonde hair. Lady Margaret stood beside them, supervising. All around the room were bouquets of flowers delivered from the guests that night for Gwyneth. Standing beside Margaret was her younger daughter Daphne, taking a keen interest in the proceedings. Stretched out on a chaise longue was their brother Harrison who was busy talking, while lying out on the bed was the youngest sister Emily who looked totally disinterested in what was happening as she read a book.

  “Higher! Sweep her hair higher!” instructed Margaret to the beauticians as they combed strands of hair.

  “Well now, this is a pleasant welcome for a returning son and brother,” said Charles as he entered the room and closed the door after him.

  “Charles!” said Margaret as she left her supervision to come and kiss him. “We were expecting you this morning.”

  “I know, I got delayed,” said Charles.

  “Well at least you’re here now,” said Margaret who quickly returned to the dressing table to keep an eye on the work being done there.

  Harrison got up and hugged Charles. “It feels like such a long time since I’ve seen you.”

  “Last Christmas,” said Charles who went quickly over to Gwyneth and bent down to kiss her before kissing Daphne. He glanced over at Emily who hadn’t even looked up from her book since he arrived.

  “Are you all prepared for tonight?” asked Charles.

  “It’s been absolute chaos,” said Margaret. “So much to organise and get ready. There’s going to be two hundred guests. We’ve had a nightmare with accommodation. We’ve tried to accommodate as many as we can here at Armstrong House, while others we’ve put in Hunter’s Farm and other houses on the estate.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve had to put you in with Harrison,” said Gwyneth.

  “So Barton told me,” said Charles. “Let’s hope, with all these strangers in the house, we aren’t missing any silverware tomorrow.”

  “Charles!” said Gwyneth.

  There was a knock on the door and Barton came in with another bouquet of flowers.

  “Bring them over to me,” said Gwyneth as she reached out her hand but was unable to move her head due to the combing of her hair. Barton brought them over and Gwyneth reached for the card and quickly opened it.

  “Well?” asked Margaret.

  “They’re from Cecil Rotherham,” said Gwyneth, a note of disappointment in her voice.

  Barton put the bouquet with the others.

  “She’s waiting for a bouquet from the Duke of Battington,” explained Harrison with a smirk.

  “The Duke of Battington?” repeated Charles, looking impressed. “You’re setting your sights quite high, Gwyneth.”

  “Why shouldn’t she?” said Margaret. “She would make a wonderful duchess. He would be lucky to have her.”

  Gwyneth looked concerned. “He’s hasn’t sent any flowers and it’s very late at this stage. He definitely said he was coming?”

  “Yes,” said Margaret.

  “But if he doesn’t send flowers then he’s clearly not interested.” Gwyneth’s face creased with worry.

  “Gwyneth, during the season in London you attended fifty balls, thirty lunches, twenty tea parties, and twenty breakfasts. I know, as I attended every one with you, and the Duke went out of his way to attend as many of those occasions as possible where he monopolised you for the whole time. He will be here, he will send flowers and he is clearly interested in you!”

  “You hope!” Emily suddenly said without looking up from her book.

  Margaret gave Emily a warning look. She looked at the time and was glad five of her children were now accounted for. But there was still no sign of her sixth child, her youngest son James.

  “Barton, has Master James returned to the house yet?”

  “I’m afraid not, my lady.”

  “For goodness sake! I told him not to go gallivanting anywhere and to be back here in plenty of time. I have no patience for any of his tomfoolery tonight!”

  “I think you know where he is if you want to find him,” said Emily, again not looking up from her book.

  Margaret looked at Emily again and frowned before thinking hard and then saying, “Barton, can you send a footman into town and collect Master James from . . . Cassidy’s bar.” She said the name of the establishment with a note of disgust.

  “Very good, my lady. It’s just –” Barton hesitated.

  “It’s just what, Barton?” snapped Margaret.

  “It’s just if the young master is in Cassidy’s bar, he will not pay any heed to a footman sent to bring him home.”

  “For goodness sake!” Margaret’s voice rose in frustration.

  Harrison, seeing his mother’s stress, stood up. “It’s all right. I will go into town and collect him.”

  “Oh, will you, Harrison? Thank you. And tell him I insist he comes straight back here. Don’t take any of his nonsense.”

  “If I have to throw him over my back and carry him out of that dive, I will do so,” said Harry and left the room with Barton.

  “I see some things never change,” said Charles. “James is still giving trouble?”

  “I really don’t know what we’re going to do with him. Expelled from two schools. No direction in life.”

  “It’s your own fault, Mama, you let him get away with everything,” said Gwyneth.

  “Well, I’ve been so busy this year with you being a debutante and being in London for the Season. Neither your father nor I have had the time to try and sort him out. But we will now once we get you married.”

  “If you get her married,” pointed out Emily, again not looking up from her book.

  Charles sat down on the chaise longue. “Perhaps you took too much on with this ball for Gwyneth. You could have just had an afternoon tea party for her in London. That’s what most young women are having these days.”

 
“A tea party!” Margaret was horrified. “I doubt a Duke would have too much interest in a young lady who had a tea party for her coming-out event!”

  “Perhaps the Duke isn’t that much interested in Gwyneth anyway after all this expense and effort,” said Emily.

  “Emily!” snapped Margaret. “Your comments are not being very helpful!”

  “Perhaps Charles resents all this money being spent on Gwyneth,” Emily went on. “After all, he is the heir and future Lord Armstrong – all this is coming out of his future coffers.”

  “Emily, isn’t it time you went and started getting yourself ready for tonight?” urged Gwyneth.

  “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about the expense of me being a debutante, Charles,” said Emily.

  “And why is that?” asked Margaret.

  “Because I’m not going to be one. Paraded around a lot of balls and lunches waiting for a marriage proposal. It’s no better than being a prize cow at a market fair. Disgusting!”

  “You most certainly will be a debutante and, by the time I’ve knocked some sense in to you, you’ll be as popular as your sister Gwyneth on the circuit.”

  “Anyway, I’d better go down and say hello to Papa,” said Charles.

  “Yes, do that, he’s in the drawing room with the Tattingers.”

  “And who are the Tattingers?” asked Charles as he stood up.

  “Sir George Tattinger and his wife Caroline. Sir George is the Governor of the Bank of Ireland and Harrison’s boss.”

  Harrison hadn’t opted to go to university but had chosen a career in finance where he worked for the bank in Dublin.

  “They are here with their daughter Arabella as Harrison’s guests,” explained Gwyneth.

  “Harry’s guests?” asked Charles.

  “Yes, Harrison and Arabella have become quite serious,” said Margaret, looking delighted with the situation.

  “Harry is seriously interested in someone?” Charles was surprised.

  “Not just someone, but Arabella Tattinger, quite a catch,” confirmed Gwyneth.

  “But he’s too young to be serious about anyone!” said Charles.

  “Harrison always knows what he wants and always gets it,” said Margaret. “I wish all my children had the same direction,” she added, giving Emily a displeased look.

  Surprised by this news Charles left the room and as he opened the door Barton came in with a bouquet of flowers.

  “The Duke of Battinton has arrived, my lady, and sent these flowers for Miss Gwyneth.”

  Gwyneth excitedly pushed the beauticians away and, jumping up, went quickly to the flowers and took the card excitedly.

  “I told you he would send flowers,” said Margaret.

  “Yes,” said Gwyneth smiling.

  Emily raised her eyes to heaven.

  “Barton, have all these bouquets of flowers taken down to the ballroom and arrange them at the entrance,” said Margaret.

  “All except this one,” said Gwyneth, taking the Duke’s bouquet and holding it close. “I’ll be holding this bouquet when we greet the guests.”

  Margaret moved over to her. “Are you sure? You know holding the Duke’s bouquet is telling everyone, including the Duke, you’ve chosen him?”

  “I’m sure,” said Gwyneth.

  Margaret nodded and smiled. “Very good,” she sighed as she looked at all the other bouquets. “I feel sorry for all these other young men who have sent you flowers and come tonight in the hope you would chose them . . . Still, I’ve two more daughters they can meet tonight and give you two a head start for when you are debutantes,” she said, looking at Daphne and Emily.

  TEXT BREAK

  Charles was coming down the stairs when his eye was caught by a stunning young woman walking across the hallway. He continued down the stairs, his eyes not leaving her.

  “Good evening,” he said, standing in front of her.

  She nodded and walked past him. He watched her as she climbed the stairs. Barton came hurrying down past her carrying two large bouquets of flowers.

  “Barton, who is that woman?” asked Charles.

  Barton glanced up the stairs. “I’m afraid there’s that many young gentlemen and ladies staying at the house tonight, that I’ve lost track of who is who.”

  “You’re falling down on your duties, Barton,” said Charles with a smirk.

  “That I am!” agreed Barton as he hurried with the flowers to the ballroom at the back of the hall.

  Charles continued across the hall and opening the door went into the drawing room where he found his father Lawrence standing talking to a distinguished middle-aged man and a refined woman who was seated.

  “Ah, my dear son!” exclaimed Lawrence, quickly going to Charles and shaking his hand. “I was wondering if you had got here yet.”

  “I’ve been here a while. I was upstairs with Mama and Gwyneth and the others.”

  “I’m staying safely out of the pandemonium,” smiled Lawrence.

  “Very wise,” agreed Charles. Lawrence led him into the room “Sir George and Lady Caroline, this is my son and heir and Harrison’s brother, Charles.”

  Charles smiled and shook both their hands.

  “Another fine young man you have,” said George.

  “Yes, we’re all very proud of Charles. He’s just finished university this year at Oxford.”

  “Well done,” said George.

  Lawrence went to the drinks table and poured Charles a glass of wine and handed it to him.

  “Sir George is Harrison’s boss at the bank,” informed Lawrence.

  “Really?” said Charles. “I hope he isn’t getting too much in the way there?”

  “On the contrary, Harrison has been such an asset since he started with us. We’re expecting great things of him. We imagine he will rise to the very top.”

  “Well, he will with your guidance and help, Sir George,” smiled Lawrence.

  Charles sat down. “I hadn’t realised Harrison was so industrious. I imagined he was buried as a bank clerk somewhere.”

  “His star started to shine as soon as he joined us,” said George.

  “We’re all terribly fond of him,” said Caroline.

  “Isn’t everybody?” smiled Charles.

  “We’ve been meaning to visit Armstrong House and meet Harrison’s family since he and our daughter became serious, but we kept putting it off,” said Caroline.

  “I’m afraid my wife was quite nervous about coming to Mayo with this awful Land War going on,” explained George.

  “Well, it is the epicentre of the whole thing, isn’t it?” said Caroline.

  “The Land War did start here in Mayo, yes,” agreed Lawrence sadly, “and has been a focal point for it.”

  “So many awful stories you read in the newspapers,” sighed Caroline. “Landlords being murdered, crops being destroyed, agents attacked. Wasn’t Captain Boycott, who was ostracised, here in Mayo?”

  “Yes, he was, unfortunately,” said Lawrence.

  “I don’t know how you sleep easy in your beds at night with all that going on. Give me the leafy avenues of Dublin any day,” said Caroline.

  “Well, we’ve had no trouble here on the Armstrong estate whatsoever, Lady Tattingner, so you are quite safe here I can assure you.”

  “That’s good to know, Lord Armstrong.”

  “Out of the many social occasions myself and Lady Margaret have hosted here at Armstrong House, we’ve never lost a guest yet, you’ll be pleased to know!” There was a hint of mockery in Lawrence’s voice at Caroline’s urban prejudices.

  “That’s comforting, Lord Armstrong.” Caroline laughed lightly. “And it is a pleasure to finally stay here when this house has one of the finest reputations in Ireland for parties and hospitality.”

  “And how have you avoided being embroiled in the Land War?” asked George.

  “We’ve always had an excellent relationship with the tenant farmers here. Even during the famine when my father and mother, Edward
and Anna, were here there wasn’t one eviction and my mother worked tirelessly for famine relief.”

  “Yes, Lady Anna was renowned for her good works,” nodded Caroline.

  “And we have kept relations very good throughout the years. I don’t mean to criticise my own class but a lot of them have nobody to blame but themselves for this Land War. They see their estates as nothing more than moneymaking devices to be squeezed for every drop of blood they can get. Ruthless evictions and whatnot. And then so many landlords now are absentee landlords living the high life in London, barely ever visiting their country estates here in Ireland. The whole thing was bound to explode one day.”

  “I believe you spent a good part of the year in London this year yourself, Lord Lawrence,” said Caroline.

  “Yes, but only under duress. I had to attend the season for my daughter Gwyneth being presented to society. I’m delighted the whole thing is over and I’m back home at Armstrong House where I’m never happier.”

  “And what of you, Charles, now you’ve finished university?” smiled Caroline.

  “Well, Charles will naturally be coming back to Armstrong House to learn the running of the estate and ensure its continual smooth and successful running into the future,” smiled Lawrence.