The Secrets of Armstrong House

by A. O'Connor

  “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 which was painted a deep red and furnished elegantly with large couches and chaises-longues.

  “May I present my son and heir, Harrison’s brother Charles,” he said to his two guests. “Charles – Sir George and Lady Tattinger.”

  Charles kissed Lady Tattinger’s hand and shook hands with Sir George.

  “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,” Lawrence informed Charles.

  “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,” said Sir George. “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 his courtship of 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 since.”

  “So many awful stories you read in the newspapers,” sighed Caroline. “Landlords being murdered, crops being destroyed, agents attacked,” said George. “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 whatsoever here on the Armstrong estate, Lady Tattinger,” said Lawrence, “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 as she admired the hand-carved oak fireplace. “And it is a pleasure finally to stay here when this house has one of the finest reputations in Ireland for 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 alive 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 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 because of Gwyneth. I’m delighted the whole thing is over and I’m back home at Armstrong House where I belong and am happy.”

  “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.

  “Indeed,” smiled Charles, taking a sip of his wine.

  Harrison’s carriage pulled up outside Cassidy’s pub in the main street of Castlewest. There was loud music, laughter and merriment coming from inside as he walked up to the door. He pushed it open and stepped in.

  Inside, the pub was packed with a very jovial crowd, most of whom looked inebriated, with a strong swirl of tobacco and turf smoke from the blazing fire in the air, while a group in the corner played lively traditional music.

  He peered through the crowd, looking for his brother, and finally spotted him sitting in an alcove, an arm around a young woman, with a crowd gathered around him.

  Harrison pushed through the crowd till he reached the alcove.

  James was whispering something in his female companion’s ear that caused her to erupt in raucous laughter.

  “James?” Harrison said, leaning forward.

  James looked up and smiled. “Harrison! Pull up a chair and have a drink!” He nodded at the young woman beside him “This is Dolly Cassidy – her father is the publican.”

  Harrison looked at the young woman who was dressed cheaply and provocatively as, with a cheeky smile, she said, “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

  “Yes,” Harrison nodded. “Likewise. James, you’re to return with me at once to Armstrong House.”

  “For what?” James said dismissively.

  Harrison leaned forward and spoke forcefully. “For Gwyneth’s party, of course.”

  “Pah!” James spat dismissively and sat back, folding his arms.

  “Mama insists!” Harrison said.

  “Oh well, if your mama insists, you’d better toddle along!” said Dolly and she roared with laughter.

  “Come on, James, don’t make this difficult. You have to attend. If I have to physically drag you back to Armstrong House, I will.”

  “I’d like to see you try!” James taunted. Then he sighed loudly and stood up, throwing back the last of his drink.

  “Leaving me so soon?” Dolly said, jumping up and draping her arm around his neck.

  “Duty calls,” said James as he removed her arm.

  Outside Harrison was already waiting in the carriage as his brother climbed in. He looked at James and shook his head as the carriage took off.

  “Your carry-on is disgraceful. Lord Armstrong’s son going into a place like that and flirting with a woman like that Cassidy girl! Why do you do it?”

  James looked at him as his lit his cigarette. “Same reason you hang out with a bunch of boring Dublin bankers – because I enjoy it.”

  Charles brushed his hair, surveying himself dressed in his immaculate, tailed dinner suit in the full-length mirror in Harrison’s room. He turned and looked at the temporary bed placed there for him and frowned.

  “I’m so late – damn James!” snapped Harriso
n, rushing in.

  “Did you find him all right?” asked Charles, still brushing his hair in the mirror and not looking too interested in the answer.

  “I found him, his arm draped over some tart in Cassidy’s pub,” Harrison informed him.

  “Anyway, you were there to rescue the day, as always . . . What’s this I hear about you being all very serious about some young girl?”

  Harrison stopped and smiled. “Who told you about her?”

  “Well – everyone! In fact, I’ve just been introduced to her parents. Go on, tell me all about her!”

  “Her name is Arabella. Our paths crossed through work as she’s my boss’s daughter.”

  “Very tactical of you.”

  “I wouldn’t care who she was – my feelings about her would be the same,” said Harrison, looking shy.

  Charles sat down on a chair and studied him. “You have that stupid look of a man in love on your face. Tell me, little brother, that I won’t be hearing the sound of wedding bells ringing soon?”

  Harrison looked sheepish. “Yes, you will.”

  “But – but you haven’t really lived yet! You haven’t met all there is to meet, seen all there is to see – tasted all there is to taste.”

  “What’s the point in doing all that meeting, seeing and tasting, when I was lucky enough to find what I was looking for straight away?”

  “Well, I look forward to meeting this – incredible – girl.”

  Harrison looked at his watch. “I’d better get ready very quickly. Arabella and her parents are waiting for me to escort them in to the ball.”

  All the bouquets of flowers had been arranged at the entrance of the ballroom and Gwyneth stood just inside surrounded by them, beside her mother, as the guests were being announced. The ballroom had been set with long meticulously arranged tables.

  Barton stood at the door and announced the guests as they entered.

  “Lord and Lady Kinsale!” Barton called.

  “Lady Margaret, good evening,” said the couple together.

  “I’m so glad you could both be here tonight,” Margaret said, then indicated Gwyneth. “Lord and Lady Kinsale, may I introduce my daughter, Gwyneth?”

  Gwyneth curtsied deeply.

  “Your daughter looks most beautiful tonight,” said Lady Kinsale with a smile, and then they walked on into the room and were shown down to their seating by a footman.

  Charles looked on as this procedure was repeated over and over again with each guest who was shown in. He was standing by his father at the row of French windows that lined one wall.

  “It’s so good to have you home again,” said Lawrence.

  “And good to be home,” smiled Charles.

  “And I need you now more than ever – on the estate. Now the children are becoming adults, I’ve been taken away from estate business as you know. Gwyneth’s coming out meant I had to be in London for weeks. I need to know the estate is in reliable hands when I’m not here.”

  Charles shrugged. “I don’t know how reliable my hands would be. I don’t really know too much about running this place.”

  “Exactly, and now it’s time you learnt.”

  “You see, I hadn’t planned on coming back to Armstrong House quite so soon,” explained Charles.

  “I don’t understand,” Lawrence was perplexed.

  “I was going to stay in London for a while.”

  “London! And what would you be doing there?”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . . Relaxing for a while.”

  “Relaxing!”

  “Yes, well, you see, university was such hard work.”

  “Your grades didn’t reflect much hard work!” snapped Lawrence.

  “I know, but imagine how much worse they would have been if I hadn’t put the work I did in!”

  “And where do you propose to live in London?”

  “I thought I’d open the house at Regent’s Park.”

  “My house, you mean? And what do you expect to live on while you – ‘relax’ – in London?”

  “My allowance naturally.”

  “Your allowance was for when you were studying, not for partying in London!”

  Charles remained cool but his eyes glared. “So you are denying me my allowance while you squander all this money on frocks and balls for all my siblings?”

  “The money spent on your siblings is so they will obtain good positions in life. Everything else goes to you as my heir . . . that is the natural order of things.”

  Margaret was beckoning Lawrence over to her.

  “Your mother needs me – we will discuss this later.”

  Lawrence made his way across the ballroom to his wife and Gwyneth, his smile disguising his anger and worry after his conversation with Charles. His worst fears had been confirmed after those few words with his son. Charles’ lack of interest in the estate was obvious and from what he could see his son was intent on living the life of an absentee landlord in London – a breed Lawrence despised.

  He reached his wife and Gwyneth.

  “Lawrence, I’ve asked Barton to make a quick rearrangement with the seating. I’m placing the Duke of Battington at the head table with us and placing Charles with Harrison and the Tattingers.”

  “Why are you putting the Duke with us?” Lawrence looked confused.

  “For obvious reasons!” whispered Margaret. “Oh dear, I feel sorry for all these young men who made the journey here only to discover Gwyneth has decided on the Duke.”

  Charles looked on as the long lines of tables filled up with guests.

  “Seemingly you are to be removed from the head table to make room for the Duke,” said a voice beside him and he turned to see Emily there.

  “I’m beginning to wonder why I made this trip home for this ball at all,” said Charles. “I seem to be shuttled around like unwanted luggage.”

  “Well, you know Mama and Papa. They always like to get their priorities right. And tonight’s priority is the Duke.”

  “Really?” Charles looked unimpressed.

  “That’s the advantage of being the youngest – I’m last on their list of priorities,” said Emily.

  “Perhaps, but I imagine you are highest on their list of concerns.”

  “Oh, no, you are top of their concerns, with all their plans for you,” said Emily teasingly.

  He studied her and put his arm around her shoulders. “And tell me, favourite sister, what have Mama and Papa planned for me?”

  Emily stood on her tiptoes and started whispering into Charles’ ear while he listened intently. “You are to remain here at Armstrong House and start immediate training for your role in life as dutiful son and heir of the Armstrong estate!”

  “Anything else?” he asked, his expression clouded at the thought of it.

  She got on her tiptoes again to whisper. “You are to be married off to a young lady with impeccable breeding and unquestionable character forthwith.”

  “Do I have any say in these matters?” he asked, irritated.

  She shook her head.

  He looked around at the tables, which were now almost full as the last of the guests took their seats. The noise level was high with chatter and laughter as an army of staff glided through the tables serving the hors d’oeuvre of smoked salmon and caviar.

  “This house can drive me mad,” Emily said. “Even with Harrison in Dublin most of the time and with Gwyneth soon to be married, there is James and Daphne and Mama and Papa . . . I always feel under Papa’s control here.”

  Charles suddenly saw the beautiful woman he had passed in the hallway, walking through the aisles between the tables. To his surprise he saw she was walking alongside Harrison, and behind Sir George and Lady Tattinger. He realised she must be Arabella Tattinger.

  “That is Arabella Tattinger?” he checked with Emily, with a discreet nod over at the young woman.

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  He gazed at Arabella, her dark-chestnut hair groomed high, dressed in a lon
g ivory satin dress with the bodice embroidered in gold.

  “What is she like?”

  “Friendly, but keeps her distance. Quite proud of herself, I imagine.”

  “Well, let’s not miss the first course,” Charles said abruptly and left Emily.

  He strode confidently to his appointed place at the Tattingers’ table.

  “This is my seat, I believe?” he said, pulling out the empty chair beside Arabella.

  Harrison was sitting on her other side while her parents were across the table.

  Harrison stood up and greeted his brother. “Ah, there you are, Charles! I believe you’ve already met Sir George and Lady Tattinger . . . and this . . .” he paused as he smiled proudly, “is Arabella.”

  Arabella smiled at him and held out her hand, which he took and held tightly before bowing and kissing it briefly.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” he said.

  “Harrison speaks so much of you, I feel I already know you,” she said.

  “And I feel I already know you,” he smiled.

  He took his chair and nodded smilingly to Arabella’s parents.

  “Charles was to be seated up at the main table, but the Duke of Battington has displaced him as the . . .” Harrison paused and pulled a funny face, “special guest.”

  “I was wondering whose bouquet she was holding,” said Caroline Tattinger, looking impressed as she observed the Duke sitting at the top table talking privately to Gwyneth. “Is the deal done?”

  “Looks like it – he’s mad about her – she’s mad about him. My parents are ecstatic – his family are delighted. It’s as happy as a tennis match on a sunny afternoon!” Harrison laughed.

  “And when are you to have your debutante ball?” Charles asked Arabella.

  Arabella turned and smiled at him. “I’m not having one.”

  “Not having one?” Charles looked at her incredulously.

  “I’ve been going to parties and functions since I was sixteen. I think there’s no need for me to have one all to myself.”

  Harrison leaned over and touched her hand lightly. “Especially now.”

  Charles watched the secret glances, rich in nuance, that passed between his brother and Arabella.