by A. O'Connor
“It’s fine. Calm down,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Is she going to tell Harrison?”
“No, we’re safe. She has no intention of telling Harrison or anybody else.”
Arabella’s body visibly relaxed. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I know my sister. She understands what we’re going through, she’s quite sympathetic.”
“Is she?” Arabella was puzzled.
“I explained to her we are in love and in an impossible situation.”
His words surprised and delighted her. She was hugely relieved that he felt the same as she did.
She sat down on the bed. “I couldn’t have coped if he found out . . . So I suppose this is it . . . we return to Dublin tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t have to be the end.”
“It has to be. What we had was very special and now must end. We must go back to our normal lives.”
“We don’t have to. Emily has agreed to cover for us. We can arrange to meet through her.”
“No, I couldn’t continue with this, Charles. I couldn’t continue to deceive Harrison. I’ve been in a state of terror all day fearing exposure.”
He sat beside her and smiled. “And isn’t that half the fun? The risk involved? The secrecy of it all. And now with Emily’s help we can continue.”
“No!” she snapped and got up and looked out the window.
“Then I’ll go. And we won’t make contact. Is that what you want?” he asked, moving towards the door. He had his hand on the door handle and was opening it when she turned around.
“I don’t want you to go – stay.”
The footmen were bringing Harrison and Arabella’s luggage out to the waiting carriage as the family stood on the steps to say goodbye.
“You’re in plenty of time for the train in Castlewest. It always runs late anyway,” said Lawrence.
“Thank you for everything,” said Arabella as she kissed Lawrence and Margaret goodbye.
Daphne and Jack were next to be kissed then she found herself in front of Charles.
“Goodbye, Charles,” she said as she kissed him quickly on the cheek and moved on to Gwyneth.
“Don’t forget my wedding is in March. Put it in your diary,” said Gwyneth.
“I will.” Arabella moved on to Emily, feeling herself blush. “Goodbye, Emily.”
“I wish you a safe journey back to Dublin.” Emily fixed her with a knowing look. “We’ll write to each other.”
Arabella nodded and quickly walked out the front door with Harrison.
“Write to each other?” asked Margaret. “I didn’t think you spoke two words to each other when Arabella was here.”
chapter 11
Suddenly Emily found her life had a new sense of purpose. Excitement and danger had entered it in the most unexpected way. She was now so much more than just a troublesome youngest daughter. She had a secret. A scandalous, terrible, wonderful secret that would shock everyone if they knew. And she was being entrusted with it. She had always worshipped Charles, always sought his attention, longed for his approval. And now he needed her desperately.
She found him looking at her through new eyes. He respected her now. Together they plotted and planned their next move with Arabella.
“Why don’t I write to her and tell her you’re coming to Dublin this weekend?” suggested Emily as they rode side by side through the estate.
“The trouble is, in Dublin at weekends she’s with Harrison all the time. We won’t have any time together. And then she has to stay at her parents at night obviously.”
“Hmmm . . .” Emily thought hard. “The reality is Armstrong House is the best destination for a rendezvous. You are both staying under the same roof, so there are more opportunities.”
“Well, she and Harrison are not going to make the trip down here every weekend. I don’t think her parents will permit it now they are back from New York. Besides, it might be suspicious.”
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll write to her and tell her you’ll be in Dublin this weekend.”
Arabella was in a state of shock when she arrived back home. Shocked with herself. She had broken every convention and rule. She’d had intercourse before marriage. She’d had intercourse with a man she was not even betrothed to. And he was the brother of her fiancé. Her betrayal of herself, her family and most of all Harrison overwhelmed her.
Her family arrived back from New York in joyous spirits and laden down with presents for her. She found it hard to even look them in the eye.
And yet Arabella found herself anxiously awaiting the post each morning for something from Emily.
When one morning she saw a letter addressed to her in writing she didn’t recognise, she knew it was from Emily. She grabbed the letter and raced to her bedroom and locked the door. She tore open the envelope and began to read the letter.
Armstrong House
12th January 1889
Dear Arabella,
It was so lovely to have you here at Christmas. I really hope you enjoyed your stay as much as we did. The hunt season is in full swing now. The Seymours’ hunt was at the weekend . . .
Arabella read the letter quickly and saw it was full of idle chat about happenings at Armstrong House and then she read: What news is there from Dublin? Charles says he misses Dublin considerably. In fact he is due to travel to Dublin this weekend . . .
Arabella threw down the letter. She was overjoyed at the thought of seeing him again. But did he expect things to be like they had been? Did he think he could just accompany her and Harrison to the theatre and restaurants and carry on as if nothing had happened, waiting for snatched moments when they could be alone together? Charles might be that good an actor, but she wasn’t.
She quickly went to her writing bureau and started writing. As Emily had done she filled the letter up with non-consequential items and then she wrote: It’s so nice Charles is coming to Dublin this weekend. Unfortunately I have a packed itinerary with Harrison, so we won’t be able to meet him. I’ll be exhausted by the end of it! I plan to have a nice relaxing day on my own on Monday. I’m going to The Shelbourne Hotel for afternoon tea at two o’clock . . .
Emily showed Charles the letter when she received it.
“You’re to meet her in The Shelbourne at two on Monday,” she informed him.
“The Shelbourne for afternoon tea!” said Charles dismissively.
“These are her terms obviously. She doesn’t want to or can’t see you over the weekend.”
“Write back to her and say The Shelbourne on a Monday sounds like a superb way to pass the time.”
Arabella requested a corner table in The Shelbourne and sat nervously as the waitress poured tea from the silver teapot into a china cup and cut her a slice of the Victoria sponge that sat on a cake-stand on the table. Looking at the other tables filled with elegant people chatting, she wondered what they would all think of her if they knew the reason for her being there.
She saw Charles enter the tearoom. He surveyed the room and, seeing her, came over.
“Arabella, what a pleasant surprise! Fancy meeting you here! Do you mind if I join you?”
“Please do,” nodded Arabella and he sat on the seat opposite her. She poured him tea.
“So how are you?” he asked in a lower voice.
“As good as can be expected.”
“I could have come for the whole weekend.”
“I wrote to Emily that you were not to.”
“I know. Why not?”
She looked at him incredulously “Why not? Why do you think, you fool! I can’t gad around town with you and Harrison like we used to. I’m consumed with guilt as it is! Every time I look at him, I am so ashamed. Don’t you feel guilty?”
“No. I don’t. The only thing I care about is seeing you.”
She shook her head in despair. “So you want this – affair – to continue?”
“Of course I do!” He reached over and took her h
and.
She quickly pulled it back and looked around to make sure nobody had spotted the action.
He sat back. “I’ve booked a room upstairs. You can follow me there. Room 132.”
“You expect me to go to a hotel room with you, like some – some common streetwalker!”
“No. A streetwalker would be on the street, and not in a luxurious boudoir.”
She shook her head at him. “How can you be so flippant?”
“Because that’s who I am.”
They sat in silence.
“I’m expected home for dinner at six,” she said then.
“That’s fine. I have to catch the seven o’clock train back to Castlewest.”
She sat there in disarray, her heart thumping, while he gazed at her assessingly.
At last he spoke. “It’s a choice between an afternoon of champagne, strawberries and the man who loves you, or . . .” he glanced down at the cake sitting on the table, “. . . an afternoon of Victoria sponge on your own.”
He stood up and walked out of the tearoom.
Arabella waited ten minutes, then paid the bill, and left the tearoom. She slowly walked through the hotel foyer and reception. She walked up the stairs expecting somebody to stop her and ask her to leave. Hoping somebody would. But they didn’t. She got to Room 132, hesitated, and then knocked quietly on the door.
chapter 12
Emily came into Charles’ room holding a letter.
“What news from Arabella?” asked Charles.
“She says that she and her parents are going to the races in Kildare next weekend, and that Harrison won’t be with them.”
“What an opportunity!”
“She writes they are staying at the Imperial Hotel.”
“Sounds like an invitation to me, Emily! Go choose your best frocks. We’re off to the races!”
“We?” asked Emily, her eyes opening wide.
“Of course, you need a bit of excitement too. Besides, you’ll be the perfect cover for us.”
“Mama will never allow it,” Emily cautioned, excitement overcoming her at the thought of escaping for a couple of days from Armstrong House.
“You just leave Mama to me.” He winked at her.
The race course was packed with people as Charles and Emily made their way through the crowd.
“Any sign of them?” he asked, peering through the people.
“There they are!” exclaimed Emily, pointing.
Caroline and George were walking through the throng, with Arabella, who was wearing a cream dress with a tightly fitted bodice and carrying a cream parasol.
“Charles!” exclaimed Caroline, seeing them.
“You distract the parents,” whispered Charles to Emily.
“We didn’t know you were coming to the races,” said George.
“Last-minute decision. And look who’s with me – dearest little Emily!” said Charles, as Emily stepped forward.
Caroline was delighted. “Arabella, it’s Emily. You’ve become such good friends, haven’t you? There’s often a letter waiting for Arabella from Armstrong House on the sideboard.”
“Hello, dear Arabella!” Emily said in an overly friendly sing-song voice.
“Hello,” said Arabella, trying to keep the nerves out of hers.
“Where are you staying?” asked George.
“At the Imperial,” said Charles.
“So are we!” said Caroline.
“Oh, what a lovely brooch, Lady Tattinger,” said Emily as she moved towards her to examine the piece of jewellery.
“Thank you! I got it in New York.”
“Tell me all about New York,” said Emily as she cornered George and Caroline.
Charles went and stood beside Arabella.
“What room are you staying in?” he asked in a whisper.
“Room 22.”
“I’ll come to you tonight.”
“No! My mother will be in the next room!”
“Well – when then?” he asked impatiently.
“We are to go out to dinner at nine. I’ll tell them I have one of my headaches and won’t go with them . . . come to my room then.”
And the letters kept being sent, and the meetings kept on being arranged, and the weeks flew by. Emily’s approaching birthday offered another opportunity.
Arabella was in the dining room having breakfast with her parents. Caroline was opening her post.
“Here’s a letter from Emily,” said Caroline in surprise.
“Emily?” Arabella dropped her spoon.
“Emily Armstrong,” confirmed Caroline.
Arabella, thinking her mother had opened her letter by mistake, reached out to grab it.
“The letter is for me,” insisted Caroline, pulling it back from her daughter.
“What does she want?” asked Arabella, trying to conceal the fact that she was panic-stricken.
“It’s her birthday next weekend and she’s invited me, your father and you to her party. Isn’t that nice of her? She says Harrison will be there and her mother invites us to stay at Armstrong House. I know Emily can come across as a bit surly, but she’s a sweet girl, I believe.”
Arabella wondered what Charles was up to and dreaded the thought of going. Her snatched meetings with him were one thing. But to be in the same house as Harrison, her parents, his family? To brazenly face them all over breakfast, lunch and dinner and pretend nothing was happening between her and Charles? She had done it at the start of their affair, borne along by the euphoria of their newly awakened passion, but to return now and do the same thing deliberately and calculatedly was quite a different thing. Besides, she felt Charles was flaunting it in front of them, taking unnecessary risks and making an utter fool of Harrison.
“Well, we can’t go,” stated Arabella.
“Whyever not? We’ve nothing pressing on. It would be rude to decline. They are practically family to you at this stage, Arabella.”
chapter 13
Arabella tried to hide her concerns from her parents as they made the train journey down to Castlewest.
A carriage was waiting at the station to take them to Armstrong House where Margaret, Harrison and Emily were waiting for them when they arrived.
“What a lovely thought to invite us down for Emily’s birthday!” said Caroline.
“Arabella!” said Emily happily as she embraced her and kissed her cheek. Arabella realised Emily was as good an actor as Charles as she awkwardly accepted Emily’s over-the-top welcome.
Emily linked Arabella’s arm and led her into the drawing room.
“It so nice that they have become such good friends,” said Caroline as the rest of them followed.
Charles was standing at the front window in the drawing room, gazing out across the lake as he smoked a cigarette.
“Charles, Arabella and her parents have arrived,” said Emily.
Charles casually turned around and smiled. “Hello there!” he said, and came forward to greet them.
That evening the Armstrongs and Tattingers were served a sumptuous meal of roast suckling pig in the dining room. The families chatted away amicably and pleasantly like old friends, only Arabella, Charles and Emily knowing the reality of what was going on. Arabella found the whole experience excruciating, feeling like a fraud. There with their families, sitting next to Harrison and facing Charles across the table, their affair suddenly became real to her. And yet when she looked at Charles, when she could muster the strength to look at him, he seemed as relaxed as ever, with not a care in the world as he chatted away to everyone.
“Have you been to the theatre recently, Arabella?” asked Charles, looking at her directly.
Arabella tried to look back, but found she couldn’t look him in the eye as she began to blush.
“No, not recently,” she said.
“Yes, we were, we were there last Saturday. We went to see Hamlet, remember?” corrected Harrison.
“Oh, yes, we went to see Hamlet,” she agreed.
/> She glanced at Charles, who was sitting back, smirking at her.
Arabella was not staying in the Blue Room on this visit. She was put in a room that was right beside the house’s master bedroom, Margaret and Lawrence’s. Her parents were put in the bedroom on the other side of her.
Surely even Charles wouldn’t dare come down to her with such an arrangement? And yet he was so unpredictable, so loving of danger, she feared he would come to her during the night, regardless of who was on the other side of the walls.
But he didn’t.
“I was thinking we might go for a drive around the estate this afternoon,” suggested Emily to Arabella over breakfast.
“But I was going to take her into Castlewest today,” objected Harrison.
“Harrison! You have Arabella in Dublin all the time! She’s down for my birthday, so I want to spend some time with her,” scolded Emily.
Harrison turned to Arabella and smiled. “You know something? I thought I had you all to myself, but I think I have serious competition for you from my family!”
Arabella glanced at Charles and stood up quickly. “I’d better go and choose what to wear on the ride later.”
That afternoon Emily was waiting for Arabella in a small phaeton carriage in front of the house when she emerged.
Arabella stepped up into the phaeton and as soon as she had settled herself comfortably Emily slapped the reins on the horse’s back and they took off rapidly down the driveway.
“I must admire your skill in driving this phaeton,” said Arabella. “Even men find them quite tricky and dangerous.”
“I enjoy danger,” said Emily with a sideways glance. “Don’t you?”
Arabella looked away and didn’t answer. Did she like danger? Charles certainly did.
She lapsed into an awkward silence for a while before saying, “I know we write to each other all the time, but I feel I don’t really know you that well.”
