Comfort Me With Apples

by Comfort Me

‘Dr McDaid knows what these things are like,’ his wife soothed him. ‘It’s a bit of strategy. They’ve fallen for the Furlong girls and they want to ask them out.’

  ‘I’m pleased to see it,’ he said. ‘Particularly Eugene.’ His wife looked at him enquiringly but he said no more.

  A little later Michael and Eugene were free to leave with their uncle and aunt. They had escorted Mrs Furlong and Mrs Jenson to the stalls where their daughters were and Mrs Furlong had given the girls permission for the outing the next day. They saw the soldiers leave with regret, an emotion not shared by Dorrie’s admirers, especially James Hargreaves.

  Anna found it difficult to concentrate and Isabel seemed almost as excited as she was. ‘I’m really sure he’s smitten, Anna,’ she said. ‘The way he looked at you and asking you out so soon! And he’s so handsome. Like a Greek god or do I mean Roman? Anyway, I can just see him with a laurel wreath on his head.’

  Anna smiled at her friend. ‘I do hope you’re right, Isabel,’ she said. ‘But it seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t it? There must be fashionable women in London who admire him and have a lot more to offer than I do.’

  ‘Don’t belittle yourself, Anna,’ Isabel said indignantly. ‘Whoever marries you will be a very lucky man. Anyway, the O’Briens seemed to notice it and be pleased.’

  ‘Michael certainly seemed smitten with Dorrie, didn’t he?’ Anna said. ‘And that I can understand.’

  ‘I didn’t pay much attention to them,’ Isabel admitted. ‘I was more interested in the way Eugene behaved to you.’

  The rest of the bazaar passed in a happy dream for Dorrie and Anna although they were careful to conceal their feelings.

  Dorrie’s eyes were brighter and her cheeks more flushed but she flirted with her admirers as light-heartedly as usual and they all thought the danger from the soldiers was over.

  Only James Hargreaves was not deceived. His own deep love for Dorrie made him realise that her heart had been touched by the gallant soldier and he spent a miserable night. He compared his fantasies about Dorrie with the reality of Michael holding her hand and looking into her eyes.

  If I’d had the courage to try to court her and to ask her out would she have accepted? he wondered. Even if she had refused at least she would have known how he felt about her and perhaps someday she would have turned to him.

  In the small hours, though, all his doubts and fears seeped back. Who was he deluding? Dorrie would never look at him. Why should she? A gauche fool without any social graces or achievements and no fortune to offer. Only what his mother had furtively saved from her housekeeping, nothing from his own efforts. I’ll make myself successful, he vowed, even if it means working night and day, and I’ll improve myself, try to make myself worthy of her, but his depression returned when he thought it might already be too late.

  There was good reason for his fears. The trip to Eastham was a great success and when the young people returned Mrs O’Brien had a supper ready for them. She had created a garden in the large paved area behind the house and after supper the two couples sat out there on seats among the greenery. Eugene put his hand over Anna’s as they sat on a stone seat but Dorrie lay in Michael’s arms, well back in a green bower.

  Before supper Michael had followed his uncle into his surgery, saying that he must talk to him.

  ‘I’m head over heels in love with Dorrie, Uncle,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve never met a girl like her and I know this is the real thing for me. I can’t go off and leave her with all those fellows around her like wasps round a honeypot, although she says she loves me too.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her!’ Dr O’Brien exclaimed. ‘After one day and with not a word to her family or your own. You’re mad, young man.’

  ‘I’m desperate, Uncle. I’m so afraid I’ll lose her. I want to declare myself. Ask her to marry me,’ Michael said.

  Dr O’Brien sat down and wiped his face with his handkerchief. ‘Have sense, man,’ he said. ‘You know nothing of Dorrie and she knows nothing of you. She’s barely eighteen and never been a night away from home.’

  ‘And I’m twenty-seven,’ Michael said eagerly. ‘So the age difference is right. And I’ve been about but it’s different for a man.’

  ‘I’ll have to get my wife,’ Dr O’Brien said abruptly but nothing that Mrs O’Brien could say would shake Michael’s determination to ask Dorrie to marry him.

  ‘Her father won’t be home for another six months at least and you can do nothing without his permission,’ Mrs O’Brien said. ‘Don’t think you can wheedle Mrs Furlong into giving permission. Her husband will deal with anything like this and he’s a strict father.’

  ‘I want it settled before I go back,’ Michael said stubbornly. ‘Even if it’s not official, if people know the position I’ll feel safer.’

  The doctor and his wife looked at each other helplessly. The convention was that a young man might flirt as much as he liked, even declare undying love for a young lady, but until he actually asked her to marry him he was free to move on without reproach. Once the proposal was made the engagement was considered as binding as marriage and the girl could sue for breach of promise if it was broken.

  Mrs O’Brien felt that Michael had perhaps not realised this and tried to explain but he looked at her as though she was speaking a foreign language. ‘We love each other. Why can’t we at least be engaged?’ he said.

  Dr O’Brien suddenly lost his temper ‘You’re not an idiot,’ he said. ‘Don’t behave like one. And think of Dorrie. You’ll put her in an impossible position. She knows nothing can be done until her father returns so don’t be talking about people knowing because nothing can be said publicly, whatever you might decide between yourselves.’

  Michael said nothing for a moment then he smiled and said ruefully, ‘You’re right entirely, Uncle. I was only thinking that it would be easier for Dorrie to fight off the hordes if they knew she was engaged, not that I think for a minute she’d ever play me false.’

  ‘She’d never do that but, Michael, she could change her mind. She’s very young and innocent, never been away from home or seen anything of the world,’ said Mrs O’Brien.

  ‘I’ll take care of her, Aunt,’ said Michael eagerly. ‘I promise I’d protect her.’

  ‘Ah, well, she’s a lovely girl and nobody would be more pleased than myself to see you with her as your wife but don’t be jumping your fences too close or you’ll come a cropper,’ said Dr O’Brien. ‘Make what promises you like to each other but say nothing to anybody else. And you’ll both need to do a lot of thinking too.’ And with that Michael had to be content.

  ‘It’s just as well Captain Furlong won’t be home for a while,’ Mrs O’Brien said later. ‘It’ll give them time to calm down. I wouldn’t like Michael to be hurt, or Dorrie either.’

  ‘He’s grown into a fine young man,’ the doctor said. ‘And young D’Arcy too.’ He puffed on his pipe for a while in silence then said suddenly, ‘I was glad to see him taking an interest in young Anna. I was afraid he was – not the marrying kind.’

  ‘You worry too much,’ his wife said placidly. They followed Michael back out to the garden but soon the doctor took out his watch and looked at it and the young people took the hint and prepared to leave.

  Anna was puzzled by Eugene’s behaviour. He had been formal and silent while they had been alone in the garden but seemed almost effusive when the O’Briens appeared.

  He became silent again as they walked home and Anna found it hard to make conversation with him but with Dorrie and Michael, who walked in front of them, it was entirely different.

  Michael’s head was bent close to Dorrie all the time and Anna could tell that they were talking seriously, although occasionally she heard Dorrie giggle.

  The light from a street lamp fell on their house so both young men only shook hands formally as they wished the girls goodnight and saw them admitted to the house.

  ‘I’m so happy,’ Dorrie whispered, as they took off their c
oats. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Anna smiled and agreed but she was puzzled too by Eugene’s behaviour. I just haven’t enough experience of men, she decided.

  Dorrie was so excited and happy that she looked as though a lamp had been lit inside her as she told Anna that she and Michael had become engaged, but only privately. ‘Dr and Mrs O’Brien know but they say we must say nothing, not even to Mama, until Father comes home and we have his permission,’ she said. ‘Of course, they know I’ll tell you.’

  Anna hugged and kissed her sister. ‘I take back all I said about the novelettes,’ she said, smiling and Dorrie said eagerly, ‘I knew I’d know immediately when I met my Mr Right, Anna, and I did as soon as I saw Michael. Wasn’t it lucky that he felt the same way?’

  ‘It was indeed,’ agreed Anna. ‘Although it would have been odd if he hadn’t.’

  ‘And Eugene is smitten with you. Isn’t it wonderful, Anna? We might have a double wedding.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Anna protested. ‘Eugene has said nothing like that. He hasn’t even said he’s smitten.’

  ‘Only because he’s more reserved than Michael but it’s obvious from the way he looks at you,’ said Dorrie. She giggled. ‘The O’Briens think Michael’s mad. Oh, Anna, aren’t we lucky? The two most handsome men we’ve ever met and they’ve fallen for us. I’m so happy.’

  ‘And so am I,’ said Anna joyfully, wondering why she had ever doubted it, and they hugged each other rapturously.

  Chapter Five

  Before the two young men boarded the Irish boat the following morning, Dr O’Brien again talked seriously to Michael. ‘Remember, not a word must be said until you’ve spoken to Captain Furlong,’ he said. ‘I was responsible for introducing you to Miss Dorrie and her father would be justified in blaming me if there was any scandal.’

  ‘Scandal!’ Michael exclaimed. ‘Sure, I wouldn’t hurt a hair of her head.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Dr O’Brien said. ‘Everything’s above board with you but it has to be seen to be. Take a leaf out of D’Arcy’s book. He tells me he has asked if he can write to Miss Anna but there’s no wild talk about marriage.’

  Michael looked angry but he only said, ‘I suppose it’s all right if Dorrie and I write to each other about how we feel?’

  ‘Yes, but slow down man, for God’s sake. If Captain Furlong approves and you’re both of the same mind I’ll be delighted, but you’re both young and if either of you changes your mind there’s no harm done – as long as you haven’t been shouting it from the housetops.’

  ‘I’ll be sensible,’ Michael promised. ‘I hadn’t realised it could harm Dorrie.’ He grinned. ‘Mother says I talk first and think later.’

  Dr O’Brien looked alarmed. ‘Say nothing to your mother, for God’s sake. She’d be on the first boat over and come down on me like the wrath of God.’

  ‘I’ll be the soul of discretion,’ Michael promised and Dr O’Brien could only hope that he would.

  In the excitement of talking over the bazaar and the amount of money raised, there was little gossip about Dr O’Brien’s nephews or the trip to Eastham Woods, although of course they had been seen at the Pier Head.

  Aunt Clara told Anna sourly that it would not have been allowed when she was young. ‘Young girls going off for the day with strange young men would lose their good name,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but times are different now and I’m glad they are,’ Anna retorted. ‘This is a new century and a new, modern King and those silly ideas are forgotten.’ Aunt Clara sulked for the rest of the day but Anna and Dorrie were too happy to care.

  Little could be said about Michael and Eugene in public, in case it led to a slip of the tongue about the proposed engagement, but in the privacy of their bedroom the girls talked about little else.

  Eugene wrote to Anna every week, mostly about his new regiment, the Irish Guards, and events in London, but he always wrote lover-like messages at the end of the letters and always sent messages to Dr and Mrs O’Brien.

  Dorrie received letters from Michael every day, sometimes twice a day, but with the help of Nelly she was able to conceal most of them from her mother and aunt, and more importantly from Anna, in case she was hurt by their frequency, compared to Eugene’s weekly letter.

  When the girls read and reread their letters in their bedroom Anna could not avoid seeing that Michael’s were very different from Eugene’s neat letters in copperplate handwriting. Michael’s were decorated with Cupids and hearts and arrows scattered among his untidy scrawl.

  Anna still doubted that Eugene really loved her, partly because she felt that she was plain and uninteresting and wondered how she could possibly have attracted him. He told her that he loved her in his messages at the end of his letters but in very formal and restrained language.

  She hinted at these fears to Dorrie, who dismissed them. ‘It’s just the type of man he is,’ she told Anna. ‘Most men are like him. Look at the engaged men in this parish. They know they’ll be engaged for years, to give them time to get a home together, so they don’t go overboard like Michael.’ She smiled fondly. ‘He’s the exception. The mad Irishman.’

  Anna knew that Dorrie, although so trusting and affectionate, was sometimes very shrewd, especially about men, so she believed her, because she wanted to believe her, and was happy.

  She was pleased and proud to pass on the messages to Dr O’Brien. ‘I had a letter from that scamp Michael,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Mad as a March hare. Still raving on about Dorrie and marriage. You’re better with a sensible fellow like D’Arcy, my dear.’ Anna blushed and smiled. The doctor seemed disproportionately pleased that she was still receiving letters from Eugene but she was unaware of the nagging doubt that they silenced in him.

  At his last port of call Captain Furlong received letters from both his daughters, his wife and his sister and also one from Michael and one from Dr O’Brien, so he knew the situation when he arrived home.

  He talked of general matters during the meal but after it he said, ‘Dorothea, I would like to speak to you in my study.’

  When Dorrie stood before her father at his desk he had Michael’s letter open before him. ‘I was surprised to receive this letter from a man I have never met, Dorothea,’ he said and as she blushed and stammered he said more kindly, ‘Fortunately, I had a more sensible one from Dr O’Brien who, it seems, is his uncle.’

  Captain Furlong questioned Dorrie closely and before she left she ventured to ask nervously, ‘Will you allow us to marry, Father?’

  ‘I will give it some thought,’ he said dismissively.

  Later, he said to Anna, ‘I believe you too have an admirer, Annabel, but a more sensible and correct young man than your sister’s.’ Anna smiled. Sometimes she wished that Eugene was less formal and reserved but as Jim Deagan often said, ‘People are what they are. If you were he you’d do as he would do.’

  Perhaps a mixture of Michael and Eugene would produce a happy medium, she thought, but she was happy to be courted by such a handsome gentleman and felt herself more and more in love with him.

  The following morning, which was Friday, a telegram arrived from Michael to announce that he had a weekend pass and would be arriving on Saturday morning.

  Captain Furlong walked down to Shaw Street to see Dr O’Brien but the doctor was out on a case when he arrived and Mrs O’Brien talked to him about Michael and Eugene. She expected the doctor back but a small ragged boy arrived with a note and she excused herself and took the child to the kitchen fire, where she left him with thick slices of bread and jam and a cup of cocoa.

  ‘My husband might be out all night,’ she told Captain Furlong when she returned. ‘It’s a bad confinement. These poor young things are starving very often. Too weak to bear the child. He wants soup and blankets.’

  The captain looked grim. ‘Aye, and it happens sometimes with the best of care, ma’am,’ he said.

  Mrs O’Brien agreed. ‘Very true. Heaven knows that was the case with Mrs Furlong but st
ill, thank God, you have two lovely daughters. We were never blessed at all.’

  They were silent for a moment then as the captain rose to leave she said brightly, ‘Still, we have Dr O’Brien’s nephews, who are like sons to us. God is good.’

  Captain Furlong was thoughtful as he walked home, reflecting that he must tread carefully. He had not realised that Dr O’Brien’s nephew was regarded as a son and a refusal could offend his good friend.

  The following morning Dr O’Brien walked up to Westbourne Street with his nephew and went into the captain’s study alone at first. ‘You had little sleep, I think,’ Captain Furlong said. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Lost the child, saved the mother,’ said Dr O’Brien briefly. ‘Right way round as she has three others and not enough in the house to feed a sparrow.’

  Dorrie and Anna were hovering in the hall and Michael seized the opportunity to draw Dorrie behind the grandfather clock and kiss her before his uncle called him into the study. The three men were in the study for some time and Michael came out alone, looking downcast.

  His face brightened when he saw Dorrie and he whispered to her, ‘He’s not against us but we have to stay as we are for another six months. My uncle may talk him round a bit.’ He turned to Anna. ‘D’Arcy was disappointed not to be able to come with me to see you, but sure there was no way. I had to use bribery and corruption and a parcel of lies to get the pass. I even resurrected my poor grandmother who’s dead these twenty years and now I’m burying her again.’

  He had brought a photograph of Eugene wearing the red jacket and bearskin of his regiment, taken when he was on guard duty. Eugene had actually given him the photograph for his uncle but Michael felt so guilty about Anna that he impulsively gave it to her. Anna was delighted. Her only complaint was that too much of Eugene’s face was hidden but she framed the photograph and kept it by her bedside.

  Before Michael left on Sunday Captain Furlong told him that Dorrie must meet Michael’s parents before their engagement was announced in six months’ time. Dr O’Brien would arrange it. If everything was satisfactory Michael and Dorrie could become engaged and marry when Dorrie was twenty-one.