by A. O'Connor
“Well, the Colonel is one of our oldest –” Margaret stopped as she became conscious of the thirty-year age-gap between the two, “– I mean, dearest friends.”
“I have to say, as much as I love being here, the weather is frightful! We don’t get this back in the Transvaal!” said Marianne.
“I’m sure you don’t get many things we have here in the Transvaal, isn’t that right, Colonel?” smirked Charles.
After dinner was served the dancing started in the ballroom.
Arabella looked on as Victoria charmed the room, effortlessly mingling and interacting with the other guests. She watched a group of women surround Charles as he entertained them with some story.
Marianne came up to Arabella. “I have to say you’re a most fortunate woman, Lady Armstrong,” she said, her South African accent cutting above the music.
“Am I?” asked Arabella.
“Married to such a charming, handsome, fascinating man.”
“Hmmm, I have to remind myself of that every day.” Arabella took a drink of her wine.
Marianne was watching Charles carefully. “I’m sure you have to fight off the women hanging around him?”
“No, they usually run away themselves once they get to know him.”
“You’re so funny! Not at all the dour woman they paint you as!” laughed Marianne.
“Thank you!” Arabella gave her a sarcastic look.
“Lord Charles has offered to take me and the Colonel out in his motor car for a ride.”
“I bet he has! I would be very careful if I was you.”
“Why?” Marianne looked alarmed.
“Well, the first time he drove a motor car he nearly killed himself and his two passengers along with him.”
“Oh dear! Not to worry – I believe in living dangerously.”
Later, as Charles was dancing with Victoria, both of them laughing happily, Harrison found himself standing beside Arabella.
“Would you like to –?” he gestured to the dance floor.
“Oh, yes, all right,” she said and the two of them joined the dancing couples.
They danced awkwardly, keeping a distance between them.
“Charles knows how to put on a good show,” said Harrison.
“Charles always knows how to put on a good show,” said Arabella. “Are you settling into the new house all right?”
“Oh, yes, we love it. Victoria especially. Charles was very good to find it for us.”
She looked at him and arched her eyebrow.
They danced for another while without saying anything.
“We haven’t had much time to speak since I arrived back,” he said.
She smiled and nodded.
“Yes . . .” he said. “The first time you came to Armstrong House was for a ball, remember?”
She looked at him. “How could I forget? Gwyneth’s debutante ball.”
And what an unexpected outcome that had, they both added mentally.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said.
“Oh come on, Harrison! Two children and twelve years later, and a marriage to Charles! I’ve changed.”
She fell into silence again as they continued to dance.
“So what do you think of Victoria?” he asked.
“She’s spectacular, Harrison, in every way; everyone says it continuously. Congratulations.”
“I hope you and she can be friends,” he added.
“Do you really think we can?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Come on, Harrison. Everyone else might be able to play happy families, but I was never good at charades. What happened years ago – with you, me and Charles – it hangs over us like a thick fog.”
“Well, Charles seems intent on letting the past be the past.”
“And what about you, Harrison? Can you let bygones be bygones?”
“Yes, I can. And if I can do so, then you certainly can too.”
“You put on a good act, Harrison, but you forget I know you. You could never hide anything, and when I look at you I see the contempt you still have for me in your eyes.”
Harrison became annoyed. “You don’t know me any more, Arabella. I’m not that person who was engaged to you all those years ago. You don’t see contempt for you in my eyes, you see change. Because I have changed. After you deserted me for Charles I was heartbroken for years. I was a recluse in New York, I never went out. I went to work and went back home and never talked to anybody. And then I met Victoria and she saved me from myself. You’re flattering yourself if you think you see contempt in my eyes for you. Because you see nothing for you. You’re not important to me any more – you haven’t been for a long time. Victoria is the only thing important to me now. Now the rest of us are trying to get on and become a proper family again – are you going to come with us?”
She found his words strangely wounding, his hope slightly irritating, his love for Victoria somehow upsetting.
“Of course I’ll be friends with you and Victoria. As you say, if you can forget the past then who am I, who did the injuring, to hold on to it. But a word of warning, Harrison, you might have changed, but Charles hasn’t.”
The music came to a stop and Harrison let her go and smiled at her. “Thank you for the dance, Arabella.”
And then he walked off and joined Victoria.
A blanket of snow was on the ground and it was still snowing lightly. Arabella had escaped the party and walked across the forecourt and stood at the top of the steps looking out at the hundreds of stars scattered in the night sky over the lake.
“I thought it was you,” said a voice behind her.
She turned and saw Victoria there wrapped up warmly in a fur coat. Arabella pulled her shawl closer around her.
“Oh – you smoke!” said Victoria, surprised at seeing Arabella with a cigarette.
“Not really, I just steal the odd one from Charles. He doesn’t know, nobody does.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” smiled Victoria, standing beside her and the two women looked out at the still lake in the darkness.
Victoria glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes to midnight. We’ll soon be in a new century.”
“Yes, Charles has ordered in crates of champagne to be opened when the hour strikes.”
“I look forward to it,” smiled Victoria. “It’s so good that Charles and Harrison are getting on better, don’t you think? They used to be so close growing up. If anything good came out of Lawrence passing away, it’s that.”
Arabella glanced at Victoria. “I suppose . . . You’re very lucky with Harrison – he’s a wonderful man.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?”
“You’ll always know where you are with Harrison. He’ll never let you down or deceive you or do things behind your back.”
“I know,” said Victoria, studying Arabella as the snow continued to land on her soft dark hair. “I think Charles is wonderful too.”
“Charles is all things to all people. Expect the unexpected with Charles.”
“That can be exciting too! He’s a lot of fun, I think.”
“Too much fun sometimes.”
“Why are you saying that?”
“I’m just saying you and Harrison have been spending a lot of time with Charles and you shouldn’t really rely on him, for your own sakes, because he does let people down.”
Victoria adopted a cautious tone. “Arabella . . . it’s not my place, but I think you should give Charles a bit of a break.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s just, having stayed at Armstrong House this past while, I can’t help but notice that you do seem to argue a lot.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I just wonder if you relaxed a little bit, perhaps you’d get on a bit better.”
“You don’t know anything about it, Victoria!”
“I’m not saying I do! But I do understand people. Charles is, from what I can see, spontaneous and adventurous. That c
an be exciting, but I’m sure as well for you it’s caused stress in the past. But if you accept him for how he is, well, your marriage might improve a little.”
“And we could all live happily ever after like yourself and Harrison in wedded bliss.” Arabella’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“I’m not saying that. But you two obviously loved each other hugely to do what you did all those years back. I’m just saying a love like that never dies.”
“Oh, a love like that never does die, Victoria. I am still madly in love with Charles, for your information. It’s just living with him that causes me the problems.”
“Well, if it’s that difficult, why don’t you just leave?” Victoria was becoming exasperated.
“Oh, you really don’t know anything, Victoria. Not all of us have millions in our bank account and the carefree attitude that you have. I will never leave Charles. Firstly, I love him too much. Secondly, I’ve sacrificed far too much for that love. Thirdly, people don’t leave their spouses in our circle. People get ruined when they do that and their lives, particularly those of the wives, are destroyed.”
“I wasn’t suggesting in reality you do it! I was just pointing out that everyone always has options in life –”
“Victoria, my marriage might not look like love’s young dream from where you’re standing. But it’s my marriage, and it’s the most important thing in my life. So why don’t you continue fixing Charles and Harrison’s relationship, and leave my marriage alone?” Arabella threw her cigarette on the ground and stamped on it, before turning and walking back into the house.
“Three, two, one – Happy New Century!” shouted Charles in the ballroom and the room erupted in cheers as paper confetti and streamers shot around the room.
Victoria had just arrived back into the ballroom and she went straight over to Harrison.
“Happy New Year, darling,” she said as she kissed him. Across the ballroom she saw Arabella standing beside Charles. Charles was happily celebrating but Arabella looked lost in thought.
chapter 56
Emily was driving home, alone in a hansom cab through the streets of London in the early hours of the century. Other carriages and cabs passed hers by with groups of jovial passengers inside.
She pulled her coat closer around her and shivered. She had been at a New Year’s party with Hugh at the house of one of his friends. The party had been a spectacular display of extravagance which Hugh had much enjoyed, as ever thrilled to be amongst high society.
He had paraded her around the party proudly, saying to everyone, “Have you met my wife, Lady Emily Armstrong? She’s the sister of the Duchess of Battington – yes, the Duchess of Battington.”
She had cringed with each introduction, although she should be used to it by now. And as the night wore on and Hugh got more and more drunk and loud, she had cringed with more and more embarrassment.
She had overheard two people talking.
“Is she really a member of the Armstrong family, and Gwyneth Battington’s sister?”
“Believe it or not, yes.”
“But what’s she doing with him?”
“I know! It’s very peculiar. I don’t think the family approved.”
“Approved! I’m not surprised – he’s grotesque!”
“I think she must have been a little disturbed in the head to marry him.”
She had moved quickly away from the overheard conversation, frightened of what else she might hear.
“Ah, there’s my wife!” Hugh said, coming swaying over to her. “Come on, Emily, let’s dance!”
“No, Hugh! I really don’t want to!” she objected.
“I doesn’t matter what you want. It’s what I want that matters – after all, I pay the bills.” He grabbed her and pulled her out on to the dance floor and pushed people out of the way as he took centre stage. Then he danced her around in a drunken clumsy way.
“Hugh, I really need to sit down!” she objected.
But her words only made him hold her tighter.
“Hugh, you’re hurting me!”
Suddenly he fell to the floor, pulling her down with him and the two of them lay sprawled on the dance floor with everyone gasping and staring at them.
Hugh roared with laughter as tears of embarrassment stung Emily’s eyes. She went to try and stand up but he grabbed her to try and pull himself up and only ended up sprawling on the floor again. Finally two men dashed over to her and helped her up as a third man helped Hugh to his feet.
“Well, he’s certainly dragged her down – in every sense of the word! Her father would be so ashamed,” Emily overheard a matronly woman say as the men helped her to a chair.
Emily sat there, trying not to burst into tears, as she watched Hugh stumble around the dance floor, unconcerned at what had just happened.
She stood up and went to the footman of the house and asked for her cloak.
The footman called her a hansom cab and she got in, instructing the driver to take her to Hanover Terrace. This was nothing new for her. Most occasions that Hugh insisted they went to ended up with him making a fool of her and him, and her leaving early, alone, nursing her wounded pride.
She looked out and saw some revellers in the street and they shouted jovial greetings to her.
She turned her head, ignoring them.
“Why look so sad?” one shouted after her. “It’s 1900!”
All she could think of was another year of this imprisonment.
She let herself into the house at Hanover Terrace and, exhausted, climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. Locking the door after her, she fell into a disturbed sleep.
She was woken a couple of hours later by a crashing sound downstairs. She sat up in bed. There was another smashing sound. She knew Hugh had arrived home senselessly drunk like he often did and was just falling into furniture and breaking it.
She heard the footsteps come up the stairs and then there was silence. Then there was a knock on the door.
“Emily? Lady Emily?” Hugh called from the other side of the door.
Emily huddled on the bed as Hugh then tried the door handle. Finding the door was locked, he started incessantly turning the doorknob.
“Emily, it’s your husband, let me in,” demanded Hugh.
Emily sat shivering and not moving.
“Emily!” he started shouting as he banged at the door.
She wiped away tears as the banging echoed through her head.
“I won’t leave till you let me in!” he shouted.
The banging suddenly stopped and there was a loud thud outside the door. Emily realised he had passed out. She finally lay down on her bed again and tried to get to sleep, but sleep would not come.
chapter 57
Margaret moved out to Hunter’s Farm without any fuss. In a way Arabella was relieved she was not there any more. She did tire of Margaret’s constant criticisms and put-downs. Having said that, Margaret came and went from Armstrong House as she pleased as it was only down the road, often arriving for dinner or lunch.
Arabella realised she should be delighted at being Lady Armstrong and this beautiful house was now hers fully and freely. But she never realised the work entailed in running such a large country house. Margaret had done it like everything she did, so effortlessly. Arabella was constantly being asked for a decision, a choice, an opinion.
As predicted, Fennell the butler had married the assistant cook from the kitchen, and the new Mrs Fennell had been elevated to chief cook when the old one retired. Now, sitting in the drawing room with Arabella, Mrs Fennell had her notebook and pen and was going through the coming week’s set of menus.
“What about lunch on Thursday, my lady?”
“Em, chicken,” said Arabella.
“But I thought we had agreed on chicken for Tuesday?”
“Oh, yes – turkey then.”
“Sure you won’t get a turkey this time of year, my lady. They’ll all be gone so soon after Christmas.”
“Well,
roast beef then,” said Arabella.
“Roast beef for lunch?” Mrs Fennell raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Only on a Sunday, surely, my lady?”
Arabella raised her eyes to heaven. “Well, what do you suggest then?”
“Oh, it’s not my place to be suggesting anything, my lady.”
“Why not? You’re the cook.”
“Well, I can’t take responsibility if it displeases his lordship or his guests. I mean, I think rabbit is lovely and could put it on the menu, but it’s not to everyone’s taste, so I can’t take that responsibility. I remember we served rabbit once at one of Lord Lawrence’s dinner parties, may he rest with the angels, and next thing one of the guests, a lady from Tipperary, threw up all over the place. It took two weeks to get the stains out of the carpet!”
“Our French chef in London used to prepare all the menus and all I or His Lordship had to do was approve them.”
“Well, this isn’t London and I’m not a French chef, I’m glad to say.”
Arabella sighed. “Let’s leave the lunches for now and concentrate on dinners,” she suggested. “Trout for dinner, Monday night, is that all right?”
“Perfect, my lady. And Tuesday?”
“Steak.”
Mrs Fennell gave her a concerned look. “But I thought the Seymours were coming to dinner on Tuesday night.”
“Are they?” Arabella couldn’t remember.
“Yes, and Mr Seymour doesn’t like steak – remember, ever since he got that food poisoning . . .”
Arabella rubbed her temples. “Mrs Fennell! I’ve a headache coming on – we’re going to have to go through all this later.”
“But I need to discuss with you what produce you want from the gardens for the week, and the staff meals for the week, the stable boys’ food requirements and what you want the children to have during the week. Lady Prudence has taken a dislike to porridge. Which guests are coming each day? Are Mr Harrison and his wife, the American, attending? Will Lady Margaret be here? And what food is to be ordered from the shops. Not to mention the liquor – we’re very down on gin,” Mrs Fennell gave her an accusing look.
