by A. O'Connor
“Where’s your mother?”
“She’s retired to bed early, she’s not feeling well. Your headaches must be catching,” she said, smiling cynically at him.
Irritated, he sat down. It was bad enough having dinner every evening with them but at least Tess filled the conversation with talk about East Coast society.
The dinner progressed with Victoria trying to get Harrison to talk about his life in New York.
“So are you courting?” she asked, smiling at him.
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not? I’m sure you’re not short of offers?”
“I’m very busy with work.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.
“Nothing. I just know you work very hard. I know some people at your bank.”
“Really? And why were you bothering to ask about me?”
“I’m interested in people. Aren’t you?”
“No. I know all there is to know about people and I don’t need to know any more.”
“And what do you know of people?”
“That they always look after themselves. That they only pretend to care about others. That if you’re of some use to them, then they’ll use you, and then drop you as soon as you’re of no use to them any more.”
“That’s incredibly cynical, Harrison!” Victoria was taken aback.
“It’s not, it’s the truth. Even Morgan Wells used me, sending me up here to exploit my background to impress your parents. It’s what people do, they use each other.”
“And you don’t?”
“I’ve no need for people, so I don’t use them.”
“You might have tried using me during the week to get my father to sign those papers for you when he returns.”
“If your father wants to sign them he will because there’s something in it for him.”
She studied him. “I’m trying to understand you. She must have hurt you very badly.”
“Who?”
“That girl who left you for your brother.”
Harrison’s eyes welled up in anger and frustration. “What do you know about any of that?”
“I inquired. I know people from Dublin. It caused quite a scandal at the time.”
Harrison threw his napkin on the table. “Have you nothing better to do than go around spying on people?”
He got up from the table and stormed out.
The next day Harrison was walking through the Hall of Mirrors and saw Victoria sitting there on a couch.
He looked at her wearily.
“Good news, Harrison,” she said. “My father is returning in the morning. Don’t worry about your papers. I’ll get him to sign them quickly for you and you can get a train back to New York straight away. You won’t have to put up with me any more.”
“I – I didn’t mean to be rude last night.”
“You weren’t rude, Harrison – you were just being who you’ve become. So you can go back to New York and back to that lonely empty life you have.”
“You don’t know anything about my life there.”
“Yes, I do, it’s written all across your face. If you choose to let what happened in the past destroy the rest of your life, then that’s your choice. If you don’t want to reach out to somebody who’s reaching out to you, then there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“But why are you reaching out to me at all? Why do you care?”
“Don’t you see that I’m mad about you? Haven’t you seen all the signs I’ve given you this past week?”
“What?” Harrison was astounded. “You don’t even know me!”
“You don’t want me to know you – you don’t want anybody to know you. And that’s so sad.”
“Let me just go back to New York and forget you ever met me – you’ll be far better off. There’s nothing to me – you’d only be disappointed.”
She got up and walked towards him. “I wouldn’t be if you just let me in.”
“I don’t want to let you in,” he said. “I don’t want to let anybody in.”
“You had a terrible time, but I can help you. I can make it better,” she said, putting her arms around him and holding him tightly.
“Don’t be nice to me!” he begged.
“Why not? You need somebody to be nice to you.”
“Don’t – Victoria,” he said, gently trying to push her away.
She held on to him tightly. “You need somebody to hold you. Let it go, Harrison, let the past go.”
Harrison grabbed on to her and suddenly all the pent-up anguish was escaping in volumes.
“Let it all go,” said Victoria, stroking his hair.
chapter 45
Charles, Arabella and the children moved back to Armstrong House. Quite simply, now that they were penniless and homeless there was nowhere left for them to go. Arabella dreaded the move. She knew that one day, when Lawrence and Margaret were gone and she and Charles were Lord and Lady Armstrong, the house would become theirs and they would be obliged to spend considerable time there. But she had thought that would be in the far-off future.
Lawrence was still enraged about the loss of his house in London as a result of Charles’ deception and fraud. He saw it as an absolute betrayal by his heir, not only of himself but of the whole Armstrong family. Arabella noticed that Lawrence seemed to age overnight from the whole business as the anger and the stress caused by his son took its toll.
“You were given everything in life!” shouted Lawrence. “But all you did was take without ever a thought for me, your mother, your wife or your children!”
“The house in London would be mine one day,” retorted Charles. “All I was doing was raising some capital on it early.”
“One day, but not yet! All you think about is money and power and the good life and being ahead of everyone else.”
“What’s done is done, and there’s no point in you continually going over it,” said Charles.
“Well, I am going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I’ve put the house in Dublin on the market. The auctioneer expects it to be sold within weeks.”
“What?” Charles was horrified. “You have no right to sell that house. You’re throwing away part of the Armstrong fortune being held in trust for me and my son.”
“It’s you that threw away our legacy with your flippancy. No – the house in Dublin is going. I don’t want you distracted by the bright lights of any city in future. Your life and future are now here at Armstrong House and the estate where you will begin to fulfil your role immediately.”
Arabella was upstairs in the nursery with the children as Charles and Lawrence’s shouts echoed through the house.
“Mama, why is Grandfather shouting at Papa?” asked Prudence, not seeming too concerned, unlike Pierce who looked disturbed by the shouting.
“Oh, they are just having a silly argument, nothing to worry about,” soothed Arabella as she stroked Pierce’s hair.
“Oh, like when you and Papa row?” asked Prudence.
Arabella had to admit her children were well used to the rows that erupted between her and Charles. Prudence, who seemed to have nerves of steel, never seemed to give them a second thought.
“Something like that. Now, will I read you a story?” smiled Arabella.
Arabella was sitting on the couch in their bedroom reading, in front of the fire, when Charles came in that night, his face dark with anger.
He walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whiskey from the decanter.
“Finished arguing with your father for the day?” she asked, not looking up from her book.
“I just walked out in the end, I couldn’t listen to him any more.”
“Where did you get to for the rest of the day?”
“Out riding.”
She closed her book and put it on the couch beside her.
“I don’t blame him in the least,” she said.
“Easily known you wo
uldn’t support me!”
Arabella laughed sarcastically. “Of course I don’t! Squandering my dowry on whatever you squandered it on – French chefs and card games.”
“You didn’t object when we were living the high life.”
“I would have if I’d had an inkling of the fact we were hurtling to financial disaster! But no, as with everything with you, you covered it up with a cloak of secrecy and lies.”
“I was the one deceived by everyone,” Charles said, as he bitterly thought of Fitzroy. “But I never will be again, I swear that. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it, but nobody will ever get the better of me again. I’m still the heir to all this. I’ll still one day be head of this family. And nobody will ever cross me or cheat me again.”
As Arabella looked at him she was almost a little afraid. She knew how ruthless he could be, but this new determination frightened her.
Margaret came into the drawing room where she found Lawrence staring into the fire. She came over and hugged him.
“You know, I often think that this system of primogeniture is wrong,” he said. “Why should the eldest son inherit the title and everything? Why should Charles, who is so unfit for it, one day be Lord Armstrong?”
Margaret looked worried. “That is our system, Lawrence, and one that has worked very well through the centuries and one that will continue to work.”
“I know that. But my other sons would make much better heirs than him. I just can’t trust him, especially after this latest situation.”
“Charles is our heir, Lawrence, and though we can do our best to guide and direct him, we must never doubt or undermine that position with him.”
Lawrence studied his wife. She was a bastion of tradition and continuity. She never questioned the order of things and the family name and reputation always came first. Even with all Charles’ fecklessness and deceit, she in her own mind refused to really accept it was any of Charles’ fault. Margaret was quite content to blame any falling down on Charles’ part as being the result of a bad marriage to an irresponsible woman. Although Lawrence was as shocked as Margaret over Arabella’s behaviour before marriage, he had come to feel quite sorry for her. It was obvious Arabella was still madly in love with Charles, and that love had led her into a life that she had definitely not been brought up to, but she had an inner strength that made her capable of dealing with it. Lawrence suspected most other women would have been broken by Charles long since.
In the dining room one morning Charles looked at a boiled egg in front of him with displeasure as he remembered the wonderful breakfasts conjured up by Monsieur Huppert. He looked across the table at Arabella spreading marmalade on her toast and at his parents at either end of the table.
“There’s a problem with the harvest over at the O’Hara farm. I want us to go and look at it this morning,” Lawrence informed Charles.
Charles nodded as he cracked his egg open with a knife.
“And, Arabella, I’ll be judging a beautiful baby competition in the village this afternoon – perhaps you’d like to join me as a judge?” said Margaret.
Arabella recoiled at the thought. “I’m afraid I’ll be busy with the children. Until we hire a governess I need to be with them.”
“We can bring them with us,” insisted Margaret. “The estate children will love to see them.”
Arabella was going to say something further but thought better of it. There was no point in offending Margaret. As they were going to have to share a house, she had better make an effort.
“Where have you applied for a governess?” asked Margaret.
“Through an agency in Dublin.”
“Although we can’t afford much of a one with the meagre salary I’m allowed to draw from the estate,” bitched Charles. He wasn’t sure if it was part of his punishment or if Lawrence was trying to train him into more frugal ways, but the salary he was being allowed was ridiculously small. He was sure James was on a much higher salary.
James had moved into a large farmhouse on the estate when Charles and his family returned to Armstrong House. Charles thought it looked like a peasant cottage, but didn’t care as long as James wasn’t under his feet any more.
“There’s no need for you to draw a big salary,” stated Lawrence. “All your needs are met here at Armstrong House.”
“And there’s no need for you to use a Dublin agency for a governess,” stated Margaret. “My friend Sally Bramwell will recommend somebody for you. She keeps almost a directory of nannies and governesses to be recommended.”
“I would prefer to do it this way and for the agency to send me down the governess to interview,” objected Arabella.
“Nonsense! Look at that silly French girl you employed in London. You need a good solid, no-nonsense woman, and Sally Bramwell will know just such a woman.”
“I need somebody caring and kind as well,” said Arabella.
“Solid and no-nonsense is what you need for those children, particularly Prudence.”
The new butler Fennell came in and gave the post to Margaret.
“Thank you, Fennell,” said Margaret and, once he had left, said, “I was sorry to see Barton leave us, but he was simply too old to continue his duties here. You know, Fennell was quite a find. I hope he stays with us many years. I believe he’s become quite serious with the cook’s assistant, so hopefully they’ll marry and it will be an incentive to stay . . . ah, a letter from Gwyneth!” Margaret opened the letter and started to read it. Suddenly her face clouded over.
“What is it?” asked Lawrence.
“Seemingly Hugh Fitzroy has bought our house in London from the bank! Himself and Emily are moving in next week!”
“Unbelievable!” Lawrence was amazed.
Margaret became upset. “The thought of our beautiful house in that man’s hands!”
“At least it will still be in the family,” stated Charles with a cough.
“The family! He’s not our family, he’s filth!” stated Margaret.
“We’ll be the talk of the place in London,” said Lawrence sadly.
Margaret got up from the table and hurried out, followed by Lawrence.
Arabella sat back in her chair and clapped slowly. “Well done, Charles! I warned you about Fitzroy, I told you what you were dealing with and you just ignored me. You’ve given him your sister, you’ve given him your house – in fact you’ve given him your life. While you are left to look at bad harvests and I to judge baby contests.”
chapter 46
Sally Bramwell did indeed forward a governess for the children, called Miss Kingston. And as Margaret requested, Miss Kingston was a solid, no-nonsense woman.
Unfortunately Prudence had a personality clash with her from the start.
“Mama, why do we have to eat with her all the time in the nursery? I want to eat with you,” objected Prudence in the drawing room one evening.
“Nonsense,” said Margaret. “Children always eat with the governess.”
“We used to eat with Mama in London a lot,” stated Prudence.
“Well, you’re not in London now, Prudence dear. Now run along or your dinner will be cold and Miss Kingston will be angry.”
“Miss Kingston is always angry!” said Prudence.
“Perhaps she is angry because you make her so?” Margaret suggested.
Arabella went to say something to Margaret but decided to bite her tongue.
“I’ll be up to you after dinner,” said Arabella, smiling at Prudence.
“I know your parents were quite lax and indulgent with you growing up, Arabella. Children need to know they are loved but with strict guidelines. Otherwise we know where they can end up.” Margaret smiled sadly at Arabella.
Arabella became angry at the obvious insult to her. “Well, I presume you brought Charles up with love and strict guidelines, and he doesn’t seem to have been too bothered with either all his life!”
“Arabella!” Margaret was shocked. “A wife must never criticise her husband!�
�
Miss Kingston had tutored some of the best families in the country and so she was used to the aristocracy and their ways. She often found governesses were in a unique position. They had power and charge over the children who would one day be the establishment. She was looking forward to life at Armstrong House, with this very noble family. Her living quarters were lovely and the servants pleasant. She didn’t have much to do with Lord Lawrence and Lady Margaret, but found them to have that commanding but kind dignity they were known for.
But it was the immediate family she worked for that she had problems with. The children Prudence and Pierce were quite extraordinary to her mind. They weren’t like the normal children of their age she had dealt with who were all the things children were known for being: in turn kind, inquisitive, naughty, lazy or delightful. These children were different. Prudence was way ahead of her years – manipulative, clever, sly and smart-mouthed. Miss Kingston found it nearly impossible to win any argument with her, and they were usually instigated by the girl. Pierce was much quieter, happy living in his own world, in his sister’s overbearing shadow, and yet because he was such a handsome child he was used to and expected people to flock and fuss around him. And then there were the parents, thought Miss Kingston. Charles was arrogant and too sure of himself and seemed bitter over a world that didn’t worship him as he thought it should. Arabella, Miss Kingston thought, was a strong woman but she seemed unhappy and sometimes living on her nerves. Miss Kingston would hear the two of them rowing loudly into the night, oblivious to the fact others could hear in the house.
Prudence sat in the schoolroom with Pierce as Miss Kingston droned on about European geography. Prudence sat gazing out the window. Charles had gone off on estate business all day and she longed to be out with him rather than stuck in there.
“Prudence!”
“What?”
“I’ve asked you three times and you’ve ignored me. The capital of Germany?”
“Berlin!” Prudence snapped back irritably.
