by A. O'Connor
“What?” He moved quickly towards her, put his arms around her and started to wipe away her tears. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t be nice to me – I really don’t deserve it. If you only knew . . . the real me.”
“I do know you. And that’s why I want to marry you. We’ve delayed too long. Let’s set the date.”
“Harrison –”
“I was thinking before the summer’s end – August maybe? Papa said we can get married at Armstrong House. But if you would prefer Dublin – whatever you want!”
She pulled away from him and dried her tears with her hands. “I can’t marry you, Harrison. I’m sorry.”
“What kind of a joke is that?” he said half smiling. “We’ve already agreed to be married.”
“That was before!”
“Before what?”
“Just leave it, Harrison!”
“No! Before what?”
“Before I met somebody else!”
They stared at each other, both in shock at what she had said.
“Before I met somebody else,” she repeated. “I don’t love you any more, Harrison. I’m sorry, I really wish I did, but I don’t. I did love you. But it’s gone. And I can’t deceive you any more.” She turned and started walking back to the house.
He ran after her and grabbed her arm. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters! Who is he? Do I know him?”
She shook his hand off and continued walking. “No!”
“Well, who is he then?”
She started crying again. She stopped, reached out and stroked his face. “I would never have wanted to hurt you.”
“You’re breaking my heart!”
She grabbed up her skirts and went rushing across the parklands towards the house.
He stared after her in disbelief.
Arabella came rushing into the ballroom and her eyes darted around the crowd until she spotted her parents. She went racing over to them.
“Quickly, we have to leave now!” she said.
“Whatever are you talking about? It’s only getting into full swing!” said Caroline.
“Please! We have to return to Dublin immediately!”
Caroline looked at her daughter’s distraught face “All right. But what about Harrison?”
“We have to go now!” said Arabella as she walked towards the door.
Caroline shrugged at George and they both followed their daughter out.
Harrison stumbled through the French windows and just caught sight of the Tattingers leaving.
Charles was with Emily while he regaled a group of guests with stories of the tenant farmers on the Armstrong estate when Margaret came over to them and took them aside. She looked confused and distressed.
“Charles, I don’t know what has happened but Harrison has taken to the bed upstairs. He is beside himself.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Seemingly it’s Arabella. He says she has broken off their engagement!”
Emily gasped as she heard this and stared at Charles, who ignored her.
“Broken it off?” he said. “Surely there’s a mistake? They were practically married.”
“I fear there’s no mistake. I’ve searched everywhere for the Tattingers and seemingly they have already left for Dublin. She’s ended their relationship all right.”
“Poor Harrison!” Charles was genuinely shocked at Arabella’s actions and that he had received no indication of what she had planned to do.
“Charles, will you go to him and try to comfort him? I don’t want to tell your father yet or Gwyneth. I don’t want to ruin their big day with this terrible news.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll go too!” said Emily and began to follow Charles.
“You will not!” insisted Margaret, grabbing hold of Emily’s arm. “You’ll stay here and mingle!”
Charles steadied himself before knocking on the door and opening it.
He found Harrison inside, sitting on the side of the bed, the curtains drawn. Charles drew the curtains back a little and saw Harrison had his face buried in his hands.
“Harrison?” he said softly as he came over and sat on the four-poster bed beside him.
“She’s left me, Charles. She walked out. She said she didn’t love me any more.”
“I see!” Charles sighed and put his hand on Harrison’s shoulder.
Harrison lifted his tearstained face out of his hands and looked up at Charles.
“She said there was somebody else. That she had fallen for somebody else.”
Charles felt a shiver, but his face remained emotionless as he took his hand off Harrison’s shoulder.
“Did she . . . did she say who it was?”
“No, but that’s not the point! She’s fallen for somebody else.”
“Maybe it’s best she told you now, before you got in too deep?”
“Too deep! We were engaged! I worshipped her! She was my whole life! I couldn’t get in any deeper!”
“Yes, I see that now,” said Charles, frowning.
“What will I do, Charles? What’ll I do without her?” Harrison buried his face in his hands again.
chapter 16
The news of Arabella’s desertion of Harrison cast a shadow over the rest of Gwyneth’s wedding as Harrison refused to come down for the rest of the day and night. The following day Gwyneth and the Duke were waved off on their honeymoon and the guests who were staying in the house or on the estate all departed.
Harrison was as pale as a ghost as the family tried to get him to talk about what he was going to do next.
“I think it’s best you stay at Armstrong House with us and not go to Dublin on your own,” advised Margaret, worried about the state he was in.
“I think that’s wise. I’ll write to the bank and tell them you’ll be taking some time off,” said Lawrence.
“The bank!” exclaimed Harrison. “I’m never going back to the bank again.”
“You’re giving up your job?” asked Lawrence.
“How can I go back there? And work for Arabella’s father? See him every day after what has happened?”
“Are you sure? This is your career,” Lawrence pointed out.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
Everyone at Armstrong House had hoped Harrison might start being himself again. But he seemed to have entered a strange dark world and nobody could snap him out of it. He would spend all day in his room. He rarely came down to eat, but had food delivered to his room. Occasionally he would instruct a horse to be brought to the front of house and he would go galloping off through the estate for hours on his own.
Charles looked on, distressed to see how much the break-up had affected him. The glorious day of Gwyneth’s wedding seemed to be overshadowed since there was a cloud over Armstrong House with Harrison’s black mood.
“I should have realised there was something wrong with that girl when she wore that red dress last Christmas Eve,” said Margaret.
“All we can do is rally round him and support him as best we can,” said Charles.
In the afternoon Charles found Harrison sitting at his window staring out at the view across the lake.
“I just wondered if you fancied going into Castlewest?”
“No.”
“What about the two of us heading up to Dublin this weekend and painting the town red? Take in a show, see if there are a couple of parties to attend?”
“Definitely not – I might bump into her.”
Charles came and sat beside him and spoke gently. “You’re going to have to leave this room at some stage. You can’t spend the rest of your life in here staring out that window.”
“She was my life. She was everything to me. I’m empty without her.”
Charles nodded and looked down at the floor. Then he rose and left the room quickly.
As he was coming down the stairs he met Emily co
ming up.
“I’m just on my way to see Harrison,” she said.
“There’s not much point. I’ve just left him and he’s completely despondent.”
“I know. But I’ll sit with him anyway. Even though he doesn’t speak. Oh, Charles, what have we done?” She became distressed.
“Shhh!” he said and led her downstairs where they went into the small parlour and he closed the doors.
The tears started falling down Emily’s face. “It was all just a bit of fun and excitement. I never guessed it would end up breaking Harrison.”
“None of us did.” He shook his head.
“What can we do?” she asked. She knew Charles always had the answers to everything.
“Nothing, there’s nothing we can do.” Charles held her arms. “Emily, look at me. Harrison can never find out the truth, do you understand me? He can never find out about me and Arabella. It would finish him off.”
Emily nodded and wiped away her tears. “I understand . . . I’d better go to him. He might eat something for me today.”
Charles watched her leave the room and shook his head in disbelief. The whole situation had exploded before his eyes. He would never have guessed Arabella would have weakened and end up leaving Harrison. He realised he could never see Arabella again. If the truth came out, it would destroy him and blow a hole in his family forever.
chapter 17
Arabella was sitting at her dressing table on which her morning’s post was thrown. Again there had been no letter from Emily. She was expecting one every day.
Her mother came into her room, wearing the same worried expression she had worn since Gwyneth’s wedding.
“Your father has received a letter from Lord Armstrong,” she informed her daughter.
Arabella spun around. “What does he want?”
“Nothing, it was just to inform him Harrison will not be returning to the bank.”
“Oh, no! He didn’t say anything about – how Harrison was?”
“No, it was short and impersonal.”
“I see.”
“I imagine Lord and Lady Armstrong are as shocked by all this as we are, Arabella.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”
Caroline sat down beside her, took her hands and looked into her eyes imploringly. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Harrison worshipped you. I just don’t think you’ll ever find anyone like him again.”
“I can’t go back to him. It would be unfair on him. I’ve deceived him enough by continuing to see him when my feelings had changed for him.”
And still no letter came from Emily. She had expected Charles to make contact with her. She was free now. There would be no need for any further deception. She wasn’t naïve enough to think they could be publicly seen together yet. But why was he breaking off all contact? After four weeks she could stand it no longer and opened her writing bureau to start a letter.
Emily came into the library where Charles was working on estate business, an opened letter in her hand.
He looked up from his paperwork. “Who is that from?” he asked.
“It’s from Arabella,” stated Emily.
“What?” Charles snatched the letter from her and started to read it. “What does she want?”
“She fills the letter about mundane things, and then uses her usual code to say she wants to meet you in The Shelbourne on Saturday at three.”
“Is she mad?” Charles stood up. “Doesn’t she realise Harrison is upstairs destroyed?”
“Will I write back?”
“No – ignore her!” Charles crossed over to the fire and threw the letter in.
That Saturday Arabella waited two hours in the tearoom in The Shelbourne for Charles to arrive, but he never did. As two more weeks went by she wrote to Emily again. This time she used less coded language and said she needed to speak to Charles. That letter ended up in the library fire as well.
Then one day Emily came knocking on Charles’ door, looking very worried.
“Charles, I got another letter from Arabella,” she said.
“For blazes’ sake, does that woman not take a hint?” Charles exploded.
“I think you should see her, Charles. She’s practically begging me to get you to meet her.”
Charles grabbed the letter and started to read it. “Has she lost her mind? If this fell into the wrong hands!” He went to the fire and burned it.
“I think you have to meet her, Charles.”
“All right!” snapped Charles, furious at the thought of it all. “Write to her and tell her to be in Stephen’s Green by the bridge at two on Saturday afternoon.”
When Arabella received the letter from Armstrong House, she was overjoyed, but even more so relieved.
She waited by the bridge in Stephen’s Green, looking at the ducks swim in the pond underneath as the sun shone that Saturday afternoon. She kept looking at her watch and then checking for any sign of Charles. Eventually she saw him walking towards her and she tensed as he reached her.
He made no attempt to take her hand or touch her in any way. “Sorry I’m late. I got the train up from Castlewest this morning,” he explained.
“That’s fine.”
“Will we walk as we talk?” he suggested and she nodded.
They walked over the bridge and along one of the footpaths that criss-crossed the park.
“How’s everything at Armstrong House?” she asked.
He looked at her incredulously. “How do you think they are? Harrison is devastated. He hardly leaves his room.”
“I never meant to hurt him,” she said, overcome with guilt.
“Well, you did! Whatever possessed you to end it with him, and to tell him you were in love with somebody else to boot!”
“It felt like the right thing to do. What we were doing to him was wrong . . . perhaps you could live with your conscience, but I couldn’t.”
“Very noble of you, I’m sure.” He raised his eyes to heaven.
“I was surprised when you didn’t contact me afterwards,” she said.
“How could I? My family are in disarray over Harrison. Look, you ending it with Harrison has made it impossible for us ever to see each other again. You need to realise that.”
Arabella stopped still and stared at him in shock. “But what was it all about? What was it all in aid of? Us seeing each other, creeping behind Harrison’s back, where was it leading to?”
“My dear, it could never have led anywhere – because you were Harrison’s fiancée.”
Tears of anger and frustration gathered in Arabella’s eyes. “But we love each other!”
Charles sighed loudly. “We were infatuated with each other – there’s a difference. And when I see the cold reality of Harrison’s face, I know our infatuation must stop.”
She felt dizzy and sat down on a bench. He sat beside her and took her hand “You always said we were in an impossible situation,” he said. “Now it’s become so much more impossible.”
“And we never see each other again?”
“I’m afraid we can’t.”
“While you go off to the season in London to call on all those earls’ daughters who were flirting with you? The ones who could speak several languages and do perfect tapestry?” Her expression hardened.
“Don’t be bitter, Arabella.”
“Oh, I’m not bitter,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”
He dropped her hand slowly. “What?”
“I’m with child.”
He found it hard to speak but managed, “How long?”
“A couple of months.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do?” she asked disbelievingly.
“You need to tell Harrison immediately.”
“Harrison! It’s not Harrison’s, you fool!”
“How do you know?”
“Because nothing ever happened between me and Harrison as you well know! It’s your bloody child!�
� She was nearly shouting, causing people to look over from the lawns.
He stood up and began to walk up and down. “I don’t know that. The child could be anybody’s. I think we know what kind of a woman you are.”
She stood up and marched up to him. “I have only ever been with you. This is your child and you have to accept responsibility for it.”
“You’re insane! My brother will kill me and so will my family. I’ll be disowned and –”
“And what will happen to me? I’ll be ruined if you don’t marry me. I and my family will be destroyed. My name will be filth. I’ll be ostracised from society. And what of the child? The child will be a bastard.”
“You should have thought about all this before you abandoned Harrison. I always assumed that if you became pregnant you would have had the sense to . . . to . . . arrange things so he thought the child was his! And then married him promptly. What else could be done?”
She stared at him, horrified.
“Instead you have done the worst thing possible and left him,” he said coldly. “But I have to go now to catch my train. I have to get back to Armstrong House.” He reached forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You see the situation I’m in. If it was anyone but Harrison . . . but he can never find out. Your parents are kind and wealthy – I’m sure they will stand by you.”
She stared in astonishment as he walked quickly away from her in the park. She stood there for what seemed like hours, bewildered. Finally she turned and walked in a trance back through the streets to her home in Ailesbury Road.
“Watch out!” came a scream from a cab driver and she realised she was standing still in the middle of the street with a horse-drawn carriage coming straight at her. She quickly made her way to the footpath and continued her slow walk home. She was finished, she realised. Her life was over. Her mind was a maelstrom of emotion, switching from hurt and rejection as she realised she was nothing more than a conquest for Charles, to terror and panic when she thought of the situation she was now in. Not just her, but all the Tattingers would be ruined.
She had always carried herself with pride and confidence and yet now she would be the talk of Dublin. People would snigger and laugh about her and call her a whore and a slut. She wouldn’t be received into other peoples’ homes any more and people wouldn’t want to be seen with her. Even her closest friends wouldn’t be permitted near her in case they were tarred with the same brush. Her father could lose his job, and definitely his position in society. As for her mother . . .
