by Comfort Me
She felt depressed but thought about his behaviour at the picnic and at the tea party, and the words of love in his letters, and felt more cheerful and hopeful. If it wasn’t for Michael being so impetuous it wouldn’t occur to me to think of marriage so soon, she thought, and she decided that Dorrie was right. Michael was the exception!
It was a difference in temperament, perhaps even in upbringing, that made the two men so different in their courtship. Anna could understand this better after meeting both families and she pushed away her fears and looked forward to the future.
The crossing of the Irish Sea was not as smooth as on their journey to Ireland and Mrs O’Brien and Dorrie soon took refuge in their bunks. Anna stayed on deck with Dr O’Brien. She felt that the holiday had led her to know and like him even more than before.
‘I have enjoyed these last weeks,’ she said gratefully as they paced the deck arm in arm. ‘But I felt so ignorant. I know so little of Irish history, or of English for that matter. At school we only did the Black Prince and King Alfred burning the cakes.’
‘It’s an interesting subject, right enough,’ the doctor said. ‘Jim and Luke Deagan are very well informed. You should talk to them.’
‘Jim often talks to me about things,’Anna said. ‘You know what Dermot was saying about the Boer War? Jim agrees with him. He was angry about the concentration camps that Kitchener set up for the women and children, especially when we heard of all the deaths among them. He said if it was just good farming land they’d have been able to live in peace. The war was only because gold and diamonds were found there.’
Dr O’Brien nodded, then chuckled. ‘I wonder what that stick D’Arcy would have said if I’d told him that Dermot agreed with him about Home Rule?’
‘Does he?’ Anna exclaimed in surprise.
‘Aye. His father said, “Half a loaf is better than no bread and if Home Rule comes independence will come in time,” but me bold Dermot erupted like Vesuvius. “To hell with Home Rule. We want independence and we want it now!” he shouted. “It’s the curse of Ireland, letting ourselves be fobbed off.” I can just see D’Arcy’s face if he knew he was on the same side as Dermot,’ the doctor laughed.
‘I thought they seemed hard to understand,’ Anna said. ‘But the Farrells are lovely, aren’t they?’
‘Aye. John Farrell is true as steel but D’Arcy! I’m very fond of Nuala, though she’s a foolish girl in many ways, but she’s worth better than that chancer. He deceived her – deceived us all. Made out he was in a high position in Vice Regal Lodge when he was nothing but a pen pusher.’
‘But he seems so superior – and that lovely house!’ Anna exclaimed.
‘Bought with Nuala’s money. I felt like reminding him where it came from. My father’s uncle, an old bachelor farmer in Carlow. Never spent a penny when a ha’penny would do. Mean as dirt.’ He laughed. ‘When I think of the airs and graces of D’Arcy and those girls and the state of the old clod farmer who provided the money for them, I could die laughing.’
‘I don’t suppose they ever think of that,’ Anna said.
‘No. I don’t suppose they do. Old Jeremiah, who used string for everything. To tie up his glasses, his pipe, his furniture, and without string half his farm tools would have fallen to pieces. We went there twice a year and the basket of food Mammy took him was all he had apart from scraps all year.’
‘I’ll bet he never visualised Mr D’Arcy spending his money,’ Anna said.
The doctor squeezed her arm. ‘You see the joke anyhow, Anna,’ he said. ‘Jeremiah left his fortune to my parents and it was a fortune, believe me.’
‘Sad that he denied himself any comfort, though,’ Anna said.
‘I’d think that too, except he told Mammy when she was urging him to buy food and coal that it gave him more pleasure to save a penny than to spend it. My father was a careful man too, but not mean, so he left the five of us well provided for. Myself and Bridie and Nuala and the sister and brother in America. Bridie and John invested some in more stock, which has reaped rewards for them, and I’ve looked after mine but I think Nuala’s has been wasted on show.’
They leaned on the rails in companionable silence for a while, then Dr O’Brien mused, ‘It seems a love match right enough between Michael and Dorrie. Bridie and John are delighted with her. They think she’s a lovely girl, and you too, Anna. Bridie said she loves the bones of you.’ He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t think of taking on Dermot now just to please her?’
‘No thanks,’ Anna laughed. ‘Not even to please her, although I liked him, you know, doctor.’
‘Aye, he’s a good lad and a talented one but he keeps queer company. I’d be sorry to see you mixed up with him. Anyhow, you have at least one young man – what’s the latest word – smitten with you already.’
‘You’re very well up on slang!’ Anna exclaimed to hide her confusion.
‘Right up to the minute,’ the doctor said, smiling, then he added, ‘But you’ve plenty of time to look around. Don’t do anything in a hurry.’
He said nothing of Bridie’s reaction when he spoke about Anna and Eugene. ‘Tell her to look nearer home, Paddy. Have nothing to do with that fellow. Find a decent lad from her own parish.’
As though she read his thoughts, Anna said thoughtfully, ‘There’ll be a few broken hearts in the parish when Dorrie marries. James Hargreaves for one.’
‘Poor lad,’ the doctor said with a sigh. ‘He deserves some happiness, Anna. God knows he’s had little enough so far.’
‘I didn’t like his mother,’ Anna said but she was surprised when the doctor said vehemently, ‘May she roast in hell and I hope her brother joins her there.’
She turned her head to look at him in surprise and he said, ‘I’ve shocked you, Anna, but our Lord Himself said, “Whatever you do to the least of My little ones, you do it to Me,” and He spoke of being cast into the nether darkness. You know, I long, Anna, yes long to see that young man happy.’
‘I think he looks better since his mother died,’ Anna said timidly.
‘Yes, he does,’ the doctor said, more calmly. ‘D’you know Frances O’Neill?’ he asked, then without waiting for an answer he went on, ‘She cleans and cooks for him. Proper meals, instead of his mother’s greasy leftovers, and she got him to go to a different tailor and barber. He looks better but I’d like to see him happy too.’
‘Dorrie was very sorry for him. She thought he was lonely without his mother, as they were always together, so she was friendly to him. She didn’t mean to encourage him,’ Anna said, looking troubled, but the doctor patted her hand.
‘Of course not. She was just being kind. I wasn’t thinking of Dorrie. His won’t be the only broken heart when she marries but he’ll get over it. You’ll miss Dorrie yourself if you’re still at home; you’ve always been so close, but remember our door is always open for you, Anna. You know having the company of you and Dorrie, especially you, made a big difference to this holiday for both of us.’
The boat was in smoother water, now that they had passed the bar, and they were joined by Mrs O’Brien and Dorrie.
The happy group arrived home to the news that the coronation had been postponed as the King was seriously ill.
He recovered, and it eventually took place in August, but by that time both girls were more interested in their father’s arrival home.
On his return, Captain Furlong said nothing about the engagement but after the usual celebratory meal and distribution of gifts he walked down to Shaw Street to see Dr O’Brien.
Michael had again wangled some leave and was due at Lime Street Station at eight o’clock. Dorrie hoped that her father would still be at the surgery when Michael arrived. She was sure that he could charm her father into announcing the engagement.
Michael walked back to Westbourne Street with Captain Furlong, so he was there, holding Dorrie’s hand, when her father called the family together and told them that he had decided to announce the engagement between Dorothea and
Guardsman Farrell before he returned to sea.
No firm date was set for the wedding, but Michael told Dorrie later that although her father wanted a two-year engagement they had compromised on eighteen months, bringing the wedding to February 1904.
Dorrie said doubtfully, ‘February! I don’t think that’s a very good month for a wedding. We usually have the worst weather then.’
‘I wonder, would he agree to September or October instead,’ Michael said hopefully, but Dorrie thought it unlikely.
‘He didn’t think it was at all surprising that Father agreed to eighteen months,’ she said later to Anna, ‘but you know as well as I do, Anna, Father never changes his mind.’
‘No. Compromise isn’t a word he knows,’ her sister agreed. ‘But you’re engaged anyway. No more secrecy,’ and Dorrie said joyfully, ‘No, I can’t wait to tell everybody.’
Anna wrote immediately to Eugene to tell him, wondering how he would react to the news. It was only when she received the usual cool reply, dwelling more on the fact that the regiment had acquired an Irish wolfhound named Brian Boru as a mascot than on the engagement, that she realised how much she had been hoping for a different response.
On Sunday morning Michael and Dr and Mrs O’Brien joined the Furlong family at ten o’clock Mass. Captain and Mrs Furlong led the way down the aisle, followed by Dorrie, proudly walking beside Michael, then Anna and Aunt Clara, followed by Dr and Mrs O’Brien.
A ripple of interest ran round the church but Anna was looking at James Hargreaves, sitting by the wall of the side aisle, staring at Dorrie with a stricken look on his face. A thought went through her mind. I suppose he’s been hoping against hope, like me. It was a shock to her to realise that this was the way she felt about Eugene. She had never acknowledged it before and the service passed in a blur as she tried to discover her true feelings.
The two families came out of the church to be greeted and congratulated on all sides. Captain Furlong seemed proud to introduce Michael to friends and it was hard to decide who was the more pleased between he and Dr O’Brien. It was a revelation to his daughters to see the captain in such a jovial mood.
Dorrie’s eyes were like stars and Anna thought she had never looked lovelier. She had looked for James Hargreaves as they left the church but he had slipped away and she was glad that he had been spared the sight of this happy scene.
Chapter Seven
Before Captain Furlong sailed on his next voyage he told Dorrie that he had left a sum of money with her mother, to buy her trousseau.
‘So he still doesn’t think you can be trusted, even to buy your own trousseau,’ Anna said bitterly. ‘You’ll still have to ask for anything you want, like a child.’
Dorrie looked surprised. ‘I don’t see it like that, Anna,’ she said. ‘I think Mama will enjoy shopping for it with me and she’s told me that Father has been very generous.’
Anna hugged her. ‘I’m sure she will,’ she said contritely. ‘Ignore me. I’m just a misery.’
It was true that Mrs Furlong was as anxious as Dorrie that she should have everything a bride needed and she seemed to acquire the strength for marathon shopping days. Mrs Wendell shared in the excitement and she took Dorrie into her linen cupboard, where she presented her with several pairs of beautiful linen sheets, carefully laid away in blue tissue paper to prevent yellowing, a dozen pairs of matching linen pillowcases, and a dozen pairs of pillowcases edged with handmade lace. She also gave Dorrie five sovereigns to buy ‘pretty knick-knacks’.
Dorrie wanted to share this good fortune with Anna, but her sister refused. ‘But if you got any money you’d share with me,’ Dorrie protested. ‘We’ve both felt the need for money of our own.’
‘I know, but this is different,’ Anna said. ‘This was given to you for a special reason. Honestly, money doesn’t worry me now. What you never have you never miss!’
She convinced Dorrie but it was not really true. Now, more than ever, she longed for money of her own to buy things for Dorrie. She did beautiful embroidery on nightdresses and underwear for her sister, and on the household linen with which Dorrie was filling her bottom drawer, but the materials had all been provided by her father.
Anna delivered the parish magazine, the Xavierian, and one day she took Mrs Deagan her copy and stayed to talk. They discussed the amount of money raised by the bazaar and Mrs Deagan said the needlework stall had done well. Her arms going like pistons as she kneaded the bread dough in the panmug, she said, ‘It was those lovely embroidered sideboard runners you did and the antimacassars. They sold like hot cakes, Norah said. Our lads bought a set for me.’
‘Yes, we thought the antimacassars would be a change from the crocheted ones. Isabel made them and I embroidered them,’ Anna said.
‘It’s a gift you’ve got, girlie, that lovely embroidery,’ said Mrs Deagan. ‘I suppose you’re doing plenty for Dorrie now she’s building her nest.’
She laughed but Anna said impulsively, ‘It’s all I can do. I can’t buy anything to make gifts for her.’
She had never intended to speak of her lack of money, feeling ashamed of it although she knew this was irrational, but Mrs Deagan was very easy to talk to. Anna stressed that it was just that her father failed to understand her need for independence, not that he ever denied anything to any of the family.
‘But he likes to keep things in his own hands,’ Mrs Deagan said, nodding. ‘It’s the way with many men, girlie.’ She had turned the dough on to a floured board and kneaded it again and now she was forming it into loaves for the tins that stood ready. When she had finished she covered them with a white cloth and kept them to prove. The kitchen was filled with the fragrant smell of the loaves she had just taken from the oven, which were cooling on a side table.
‘We’ll have a cup of tea,’ she said, moving the black kettle closer to the fire. She had rubbed the dough from her hands and rinsed them in the scullery and now, while Anna made the tea, she took a flat round loaf from the oven, then cut it and spread butter on the steaming slices. ‘Our Jim calls this food for the gods,’ she said. ‘He’d rather have this than the richest cake.’
‘I agree with him,’ Anna said. The butter had melted into the hot bread and she closed her eyes in bliss as she ate. ‘No wonder your Jim doesn’t want to leave home,’ she said when she had finished.
‘Well, if he found the right girl I’d be glad to see him happily married,’ said Mrs Deagan, ‘but he says he hasn’t and there’s no sense in marrying for the sake of it. He has a full and happy life as it is and there’s nothing worse than a bad marriage. Be very careful when your time comes, girlie.’
‘I will,’ Anna promised. She smiled. ‘I used to laugh at Dorrie when she said that she’d know when she met her Mr Right but it’s happened.’
‘Yes, that’s a good lad she’s got,’ said Mrs Deagan. ‘He’ll look after her. You’ll miss her when she’s gone though, child.’
‘I can’t bear to think about it,’Anna said. ‘I’m so happy for Dorrie but I dread the future without her.’
‘You were always good friends as well as sisters, from when you were little,’ Mrs Deagan said. ‘And closer maybe because there was only the two of you.’
‘I wish I was needed at home like Isabel is,’ Anna said. ‘Aunt Clara objected when we tried to help but even now, with Mama in charge, I have to be careful not to offend Nelly. When I suggested doing more charity work Aunt Clara talked about getting rid of Nelly and me doing all the work, but Mama wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘I should think not indeed,’ Mrs Deagan said indignantly. ‘Nelly Maguire needs that job and you should be making use of the talent God has given you. Do you think your father might let you work at a clerical tailor’s – embroidering vestments and such like, Anna?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Anna said. ‘He thinks it would disgrace him if we worked for our living, you see. Says he can support his family. I envy your family being free to work.’
‘Not from choice, g
irlie,’ said Mrs Deagan. ‘They’d have been glad to change places with you many a time but now, thank God, they’re all doing work they like and doing well at it. God has been very good to us.’ She stood up and began to rap her knuckles on the bottom of the cooked loaves.
Anna stared wistfully into the fire and Mrs Deagan looked at her and said, ‘Y’know, child, I’ve been turning over in me mind what you said before and I’ve thought of something.’
Anna looked up, smiling, and Mrs Deagan crossed to the sideboard. ‘Now this can’t upset your da because there’s only the two of us will know, well, three with Norah,’ she said. She picked up a black leather purse and sat down opposite Anna. The purse was stamped with the word ‘Mother’ and opened out like a concertina with many compartments. From one of them Mrs Deagan took two half-crowns.
‘Now this five shillings, girlie, is an investment. With it you can buy the linen and silks you need to make embroidered runners and table mats and handkerchief cases. Norah can sell them in her shop and with the money you make you can buy the stuff to make more. With some of the money anyway.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t. I couldn’t take your money, Mrs Deagan,’ Anna cried, her face red with embarrassment. ‘I feel as though I’ve come begging.’
‘Now if you talk like that you’re going to annoy me,’ said Mrs Deagan. She drew herself up to her full five feet and Anna was suddenly reminded of the day her mother fainted. In a cutting voice Mrs Deagan went on, ‘I thought we were friends. I thought I had a good idea for you and Norah to help each other as friends but you seem to think it’s beneath you.’
‘I don’t. It’s not that,’ Anna said. ‘You know how I feel about you and your family. You’ve always been so good to us.’ She burst into tears, horrified that she had offended her old neighbour.
Mrs Deagan patted her arm and poured her another cup of tea. ‘There now, child, don’t upset yourself,’ she said. ‘I spoke harsh words for your own good.’
