“And of course, he is quite handsome, would you not say?” Elena was keen to get a response, and she did. “Yes, he is, but not as handsome or as tall as your Mr Featherstone.”
Both girls laughed then, and Elena was left with the distinct impression that Laura Ann had no intention of saying any more about young Tom O’Connor than she had done so far. Indeed her next question was clearly framed to change the topic of conversation. “Elena, if you are to be married soon, shall you still want me to be your bridesmaid?”
“Of course,” said Elena, “why would I not?”
Before either could say anything, they heard voices, and around the corner came Mrs O’Connor and her two daughters, followed at some distance by Tom O’Connor. They were walking home from church, too. As the parties met, they stopped and greeted each other beside the road, and when they proceeded on again, Elena found herself between Marguerite and her mother, and walking behind them, Mr O’Connor offered Laura Ann his arm, while Elvira insisted on skipping along beside them.
They talked of one thing and another, and Mr O’Connor mentioned again Laura’s performance on the pianoforte, which, he declared, was without any doubt the best he had heard. Unused to such extravagant praise, she thanked him but said her elder sister, Lizzie, and her sister-in-law, Kate, were both much more proficient than she was, “because they have had very distinguished teachers and practice much more often than I do.” Her companion would not accept this and insisted that as far as he was concerned, her playing had been perfect.
They walked on until they reached Willowdale Farm, and although Mrs O’Connor pressed them to come in and take tea, both Elena and Laura resisted, explaining that the Gardiners would worry if they were late back from church. Which left it open for them to be invited to come on another day, which they promised they would. Once again, Elena was absolutely certain that day would not be long in coming, especially when Mr O’Connor insisted on accompanying the two ladies for the rest of their walk home and, as he left them, expressed the hope they would soon meet again.
Laura Ann was taken home to Camden Park by her brother Darcy that evening, and she had a great deal to tell her mother about the new family at Willowdale Farm.
“The two girls are not at all alike,” she said. “Marguerite is tall and elegant, while Elvira is full of energy and their brother is different again. He seems modest and amiable, but a little more reserved than the rest. But Mrs O’Connor is like no one I have ever met. She speaks as if she were in a play. Every word is carefully articulated and every feeling dramatised.”
Cassy laughed. “What do you mean, Laura Ann? You have obviously had an entertaining afternoon,” she said, and then her daughter wished immediately to correct any misapprehension.
“No, Mama, I do not mean to suggest that Mrs O’Connor was strange or behaved oddly. She was perfectly well mannered, indeed they all are; it was just that she does have a most extraordinary manner of speaking, as though she was on stage.”
Cassandra was amused and surprised. “Perhaps she has been—on the stage, I mean. It is not uncommon, especially in Ireland, that young women seek employment in the theatre. I do not believe it is regarded, as it is here, as worthy of censure or suspicion,” she said.
Later in the week, they were to learn from Kate that Mrs O’Connor had indeed been an actress in Dublin for many years, which could account for the rather theatrical manner of her delivery, as well as the elaborate form of the invitation that had arrived, asking them to dine at Willowdale Farm in a fortnight. Inscribed in perfect copperplate upon a piece of handmade note paper, it was a work of art, almost, said Kate, like a handbill for a play.
Kate had brought it over to Camden House because Laura Ann had been included in the invitation, and when her mother was applied to, Cassy said, “Of course she can go; I would like her to get out and about and meet more young people. She misses Lizzie very much, and the two O’Connor girls may be just what she needs, being somewhat closer to her age at least. I believe you had a rather entertaining afternoon last Saturday.”
“We certainly did, and yes, they are a very interesting family. Both girls are friendly and pleasant; young Elvira is charming, but the mother is quite a different proposition altogether. It must be her time on the stage that makes her dramatise everything and speak as though she is addressing an audience even if she is only admiring the view,” said Kate.
Cassy revealed that Laura had had much the same impression of the lady, but had given a generally favourable account of the family. “And young Mr O’Connor?” she prompted.
“Ah, young Thomas, he is a grave and serious fellow, though he cannot be more than twenty-four or five,” said Kate. “Darcy found him rather dull, but then he tried to interest him in joining the cricket team! Elena and Laura were much kinder to him. He is certainly very well spoken, and I understand he plays the pianoforte, too. Marguerite says he wishes to be a writer, but has taken clerical work in order to help his family following the death of their father.”
Cassy was impressed. “That must say something for his character and his affection for his mother and sisters, at the very least. There are not too many young men who have talent but will sacrifice such an ambition.”
“Yes indeed,” said her daughter-in-law, “and he must have a fair knowledge of music too; he was most appreciative of Laura Ann’s performance on the pianoforte.”
“Was he? Well, she did not mention that little matter at all,” said Cassy, looking quite surprised.
Kate smiled and said nothing to Cassy, but when she returned home, she did tell her young sister of it, only to be apprised of Elena’s suspicions regarding Tom O’Connor’s feelings towards young Miss Gardiner. “I have no doubt that he is already very taken with Laura Ann, and she must feel it and so did not wish to say anything to her mother. Mark my words, Kate, and observe them when we dine at Willowdale Farm,” she urged, and Kate, though rather more sceptical than Elena, decided she would do just that.
Meanwhile, Laura Ann, quite oblivious of the interest she had aroused among her in-laws, expressed her pleasure at being included in the invitation to Willowdale Farm. “I was not really expecting to be asked, Mama,” she said. “After all they have not met you and Papa; I was only another visitor. It is kind of them to invite me, too.”
Cassy pointed out that most people did not stand on strict ceremony these days, especially in the country. “The family must want to make as many friends as possible in the neighbourhood. It is always hard to settle into a new place, and they have moved from Ireland, which must be very different,” she explained.
When Laura Ann admitted that indeed it must be difficult for newcomers to make friends, her mother added, “Perhaps we should call on them; after all, they are our neighbours, too—Willowdale Farm is not three miles from here and lies across the river from our old family home. I think I shall suggest to your papa that we call on Mrs O’Connor,” she said and was interested to note that Laura Ann seemed very pleased.
“I think that would be very nice, Mama; they must be rather lonely out there and I am, sure they would appreciate it if you did call on them. Would you like me to mention it to Mrs O’Connor when I dine with them? She may appreciate some warning, seeing they have just moved in,” she asked, and Cassy was quite touched by her consideration of the O’Connors.
“Yes, they may well like some notice; people here don’t leave cards like they do in London. I will ask your papa, and then you can mention it to Mrs O’Connor when you go to dinner. Don’t make too much of it, mind; I don’t want her going to a lot of trouble. If I can get your papa away, we might call after church on the Sunday following your little dinner party. I wouldn’t want to call before, they may feel obliged to invite us too, which would be far too much trouble for them, and I wouldn’t want that,” said Cassy.
* * *
When the day of the dinner party arrived, Laura Ann took rather more care than usual, dressing for the occasion; yet she did not wish to appear over
dressed and was careful to select a simple blue silk gown and wore very little jewellery.
Cassy tried to persuade her to borrow some of her own. “Do you not wish to wear my sapphire necklace, my dear? It would look perfect with that gown, and it matches your pretty earrings.”
But Laura Ann would not be tempted. “Oh no, Mama, that would be far too much for a small family dinner party. I think my little pendant is quite sufficient.”
Cassy did not press her, and when her brother called to collect her, Laura Ann asked his opinion. “Darcy, do you think this gown suitable? Do I look all right?” she asked, to which he expressed his approval in no uncertain terms.
“You look perfectly lovely, Laura. I’ve just left Kate and Elena arguing over the amount of jewellery they are to wear as though they were attending a grand ball at Chatsworth, not dining at Willowdale Farm,” he declared.
When they finally reached Willowdale Farm, however, it was plain that Mrs O’Connor and her daughters had not been inhibited by the modest scale of the function. They were dressed in the height of fashion; even little Elvira wore a beautifully embroidered gown of taffeta and lace, while Miss Marguerite O’Connor wore dark blue velvet with flowers in her hair. As for Mrs O’Connor, her black taffeta gown must have had several petticoats that rustled as she walked and made her appear even more like a stage queen in some tragic melodrama.
Indeed, when she greeted the visitors and welcomed them into her home, she did so with such an air of gracious condescension, she may well have been the Duchess of Devonshire in the great hall at Chatsworth.
Her son was perhaps the only one of the family who did not appear to have dressed up for the occasion, being simply attired, with a soft cravat at the neck, in the style affected by some Irish poets, instead of a stiff collar and tied bow, but, as Kate pointed out to Elena, “as handsome and amiable as ever.”
There was, fortunately, much more to talk about on this occasion, since it was the first time they had been at Willowdale Farm. The ladies were particularly keen to admire the room and the accessories, including several paintings of landscapes in Ireland, which hung upon the walls.
“They are the work of my dear late husband, who was a wonderful painter,” said Mrs O’Connor with sincere enthusiasm, standing before a pretty if somewhat unremarkable painting of the Wicklow Hills. “He taught both my daughters to paint, but neither are as good as he was, and sadly Tom was not keen at all.”
When Tom made some remark about not having sufficient talent, she appeared to chide him, saying accusingly, “He prefers to spend his time writing.”
Seeing the young man’s embarrassment, Kate asked, “Do you write prose or poetry, Mr O’Connor?” at which he became quite tongue-tied and stuttered that he was only a scribbler and did not rate his work so highly as to describe it in such literary terms. “It is only a hobby of mine, I enjoy playing with words,” he said quietly.
Darcy tried to change the subject and asked how he found his work, but he looked even more dejected, and it was Laura Ann who rescued the conversation by saying, “But you do like music, do you not, Mr O’Connor?” and when he enthusiastically agreed that he did, she asked, “And do you play?”
Before he could answer, both his sisters piped in, announcing that he did indeed and he played the pianoforte better than either of them. Despite their brother’s protestations, the girls and especially little Elvira seemed determined to ensure that their visitors adequately appreciated his talents, and a promise was extracted from him that he would play for them after dinner.
When they went in to dinner, Tom O’Connor was placed at the head of the table with his mother to his right and Kate Gardiner to his left, while the rest of the diners sat as they pleased, leaving Laura Ann sitting opposite him with Elena and Elvira on either side of her. As Marguerite O’Connor chatted on to Elena, Elvira said very little during the meal, affording Laura plenty of time to observe their hosts, and on more than one occasion she caught Tom O’Connor looking at her, and once, when their eyes met, she smiled and saw his face crease into a smile that altered completely its usually serious expression.
It left Laura thinking about this extraordinary young man who was unlike anyone she had known before and wondering about him in a way that she had never needed to with any other gentleman she had met. When they withdrew to the drawing room, Laura’s attention was held by the manner in which Tom helped his sisters, in the absence of a manservant, to ensure that their visitors were all provided for, before opening the very elegant instrument that stood in an alcove and inviting first Kate and then Laura Ann to play. Kate, who obliged with a delightful nocturne by John Field, an Irish composer, was applauded as much for her choice as for her performance, and when Laura followed with a nocturne by her favourite, Chopin, Tom had to ask about the similarity in their styles, leading to a conversation about the two composers, which revealed to Laura and Kate the extent of his interest and knowledge of music.
He was then urged to play for them, but only after both his sisters had amply demonstrated their talents and received plenty of praise for their skill, did he finally take his place at the instrument.
Choosing a composition he had committed to memory, he played with such warmth and feeling that compelled attention, even Darcy, whose knowledge of music was not extensive, was drawn in, and Laura Ann was captivated. When they applauded, Tom was clearly pleased, though he reddened with embarrassment when she said, “You play so well, with so much expression, I should have thought you could be a concert pianist rather than a writer. I wish I could play with as much feeling as you do.”
The others, who had gone to refill their cups, did not hear his reply, as he spoke softly and quite directly addressing her, “You will, eventually, when you have lived for longer in the world and known deep emotions. I play only for my own pleasure and have not the patience to practice as I should. I would never make a good concert pianist. But you, Miss Gardiner, play like an angel already; your touch is delicate and perfectly suits Chopin. Never before have I heard his music as sweetly played.”
“Thank you, it’s very kind of you to say so; I also love to play for my own pleasure rather than for an audience,” said Laura Ann. She had been touched by his words, and as she met his eyes, she had no doubt that they were spoken sincerely and not merely to flatter her. She thanked him again, not trusting herself to say much more; glad too that other members of her family had not heard the exchange. For a young girl experiencing the first stirrings of a new emotion, it was a very special moment. She feared that if Elena had heard it, she would have been teased about Tom O’Connor, and Laura Ann was not ready for that.
Before leaving, she found time to convey the message from her mother to Mrs O’Connor, who was genuinely delighted that Sir Richard and Lady Gardiner were to call on them. “Thank you, Miss Gardiner, please convey my appreciation to your parents. I shall look forward very much indeed to receiving them on Sunday. Will you come too?” she asked, and when Laura Ann said she could not be certain, because she had promised to visit her sister at Rushmore Farm, both Mrs O’Connor and Tom seemed disappointed.
“But you will come to the church fair next Saturday, will you not?” she asked, explaining that they were trying to raise money for the Irish orphans, and when Elvira jumped in to ask if she would help her with the doll stall, Laura could not possibly refuse.
“Yes, of course. I should love to help,” she said and saw Mrs O’Connor and her family regard her with obvious appreciation.
Later that night, as she contemplated the events of the evening, Laura Ann could not avoid the conclusion that her estimation of their new neighbours had undergone a subtle change since their first meeting.
While she still regarded Mrs O’Connor with some amusement, mostly on account of her manner of speaking, she had begun to see that behind the image of a drama queen, there was a kind woman with a generous heart, and both her daughters had been nothing if not courteous and amiable towards her.
But
it was Tom O’Connor who had made the most singular impression upon her. His comments upon her performance at the pianoforte, with the assurance that she would, as she experienced deeper feelings, learn to express them in her playing, had fascinated and engaged her thoughts.
Laura Ann had to acknowledge that he was without any doubt at all the most intriguing young man of her acquaintance. It was a quite unexpected but completely pleasurable consequence of the O’Connors’ dinner party, which she decided she would keep to herself for a while.
Chapter Three
While her parents called on the O’Connors at Willowdale the following Sunday, Laura Ann went to visit her sister, Lizzie Carr. The two sisters embraced warmly, always happy to see each other, for they had been very close and missed one another keenly since Lizzie’s marriage to Mr Carr. Lizzie and Laura Ann enjoyed nothing better than a good tête à tête.
Lizzie had a secret to tell her sister; she was expecting another child next Spring. After the delight this piece of information caused had been well expended, there was even more, for it seemed Lizzie’s husband had decided that they were to travel to the United States to visit his family. Lizzie, excited beyond words, was a little disappointed that her sister did not appear to match her degree of elation at the news.
“Laura Ann, are you not happy for me? I have wanted to travel to the United States for years, and now at last, my wish is about to come true. You do not look at all pleased,” she said, genuinely puzzled by her sister’s lukewarm response.
When Laura said simply, “Of course I am pleased for you, but I am unhappy for myself, for I shall miss you, Lizzie; we shall probably not see each other again for ever so long.”
Legacy of Pemberley (The Pemberley Chronicles; Pride and Prejudice Sequel Series) Page 32
