by Rhys Bowen
“Yes, darling. Lots of snow,” I agreed.
We passed through one village after another and I was reminded of other trips I had taken up the Hudson, including one when I was carrying Liam. Of course that memory triggered the wrong sort of thoughts. Would I ever feel the joy of a child inside me again? I commanded myself to think positively. We were going to have a lovely Christmas and everything was going to be all right.
We alighted at Scarborough station. Unlike other country stations along the route it was an ornate little gingerbread house, indicating to me that the local inhabitants were not simple country folk and expected their station to live up to their standards. “Holy mother of God,” I muttered to myself as the reality of spending Christmas with people who were far above my own social standing began to dawn on me. A porter arrived and whisked away our bags. He asked where we were headed and whether we needed a wagon. Daniel replied that we were going to Greenbriars and he thought a carriage would be waiting for us. And it was. Even finer than I remembered it. I have to confess a wee amount of satisfaction when I saw the porter’s face as the coachman climbed down from his high seat to help me up into the carriage. He tucked rugs around us. “It’s not a long ride,” he said. “You’ll soon be at Greenbriars.”
We set off at a lively clip-clop along the bank of the river, which was almost as wide as a lake at this point. I peered out of the carriage window, which was already steaming up with our breath. There didn’t seem to be much of a village. Just a few whitewashed wooden houses, a couple of shops, a post office, and a white church spire rising against a brilliant blue sky. Almost immediately we left houses behind as the road veered away from the riverbank and started to climb a hill. On either side of us were impressive gates and driveways, but any houses were hidden behind trees. In fact it felt as if we were right out in the country, in the middle of nowhere. We passed no other traffic and the road surface seemed almost pristine, as if not much traffic came this way. After barely a mile or so of passing trees and more trees the carriage turned in between tall brick gateposts. The driveway curved around and I caught my first glimpse of the house. You wouldn’t have called it elegant. It was more like my impression of an Irish castle. It was large and square, built of plain gray stone, rising three or four stories high. Not exactly a welcoming sight.
Daniel must have been having similar thoughts because he muttered to me, “Not that different in appearance from the prison down at Ossining a couple of miles from here!”
I looked at him and we shared a grin, which made me feel quite reassured. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely easy with this little jaunt either. Servants rushed out at the sound of the carriage, took Liam from my arms, and then helped me down. We were ushered into a high foyer with a staircase ascending on one side. Its banister was now swathed in greenery and tied with red bows. Beside the staircase stood an enormous Christmas tree. It had candles in place, but as yet no other form of decoration. Before I had time to take in any more I heard voices from the room to our right and a large and imposing elderly lady came into view, sweeping toward us like a ship in full sail.
“Welcome, welcome!” she said. “So the carriage made it all right up the hill? We were a little worried when more snow fell last night that the road would be too slippery, and they were going to get out the sleigh instead. But Winnie was concerned you’d be too cold in the sleigh so she begged them to give the carriage a try. She’s such a thoughtful girl.” She paused for breath and looked from one face to the next. “What a treat that you are here. I am Florence Lind, Mrs. Van Aiken’s aunt. When the servants have divested you of your outer garments let me show you your rooms, and then you can come down to join us for a sherry before luncheon—unless you think you’d like a rest after your journey, in which case, we can have a tray sent up to you.”
“We’ve only come from the city, not the North Pole,” I replied, at which she burst into hearty laughter. “Oh, a woman of wit. Splendid. We shall get on well, I know. So you must be Mrs. Sullivan, and this handsome gent is Captain Sullivan.”
“We are indeed,” Daniel said, stepping forward to hold out his hand. “How do you do, Miss Lind?”
“And this little fellow is Master Sullivan?”
“Yes, this is our son, Liam. And may I present our young visitor, Bridie,” Daniel said, reverting to his most formal.
“Splendid, splendid,” she said again.
While we were talking two maids had slipped off our outer garments, except those of Liam, who objected to strange hands trying to take off his coat.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him when we’re in our room,” I said before there could be an outburst.
“Would you like a tray sent up for him?” Miss Lind asked. “I’m afraid we’ve no proper nursery and no nanny in the house these days, but young Elsie here has a score of brothers and sisters and will be happy to take care of him.” She indicated a young maid who smiled shyly and blushed at being singled out.
“I think a tray might be a good idea,” Daniel replied before I could. “It certainly wouldn’t be right to impose him on you at luncheon in the dining room.”
I glanced at my husband. He was behaving as if this kind of situation was quite normal to him. Then I reminded myself that he had once been engaged to a girl of this level of society, although he had not been born to it himself.
“Well, come on then,” Miss Lind said, making for the staircase.
I had put down Liam when the maid took off my cape and hat. He let out a wail and lifted his arms. “Up,” he complained. “Up.”
Daniel picked him up again. “Come on, Son. We’re going to see where we’ll be sleeping.”
Miss Lind set off at a great pace. As I followed it occurred to me that it was a little strange that the mistress of the house was not doing the welcoming herself. I hoped we really were welcome and that the aunt had not imposed her obviously strong will on her niece and nephew. At the top of the stairs, long hallways stretched in both directions. We set off to the right, continuing to the far end before Miss Lind opened a door.
“I thought I’d put you in here,” she said. “It’s the corner suite. You’ll be quite private and undisturbed.”
We stepped into an impressively large room with bay windows that looked out over snowy lawns to bare woodland with a glimpse of the river below. It had elegant striped wallpaper, heavy green velvet drapes tied back with gold tassels, and a high molded ceiling. The first thing I noticed was that there was no fireplace, but the room was surprisingly warm. Then I saw the radiators. They even had the luxury of central heating out here in the country. This really was going to be a most pleasant experience! An impressive four-poster bed stood against one wall, and the carved oak wardrobe would have taken up half the room in a tiny house like mine.
“It’s very nice, thank you,” I said. “But where is our son to sleep?” I knew that people of this level in society would probably stow their children away in a nursery on the top floor, but I wanted Liam near me.
“There’s a little dressing room adjacent to this one.” Miss Lind opened a door next to the wardrobe and I saw that a small bed had been put into the room. “Does he still need to sleep in a crib?”
“Oh, no. He’s quite comfortable in a real bed,” I said. “This will be most satisfactory. But what about Bridie?”
“We have a room ready for her, up one floor from here,” Miss Lind said. “If you’d like to come with me, my dear?”
Bridie shot me a frightened look. I stepped forward. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather she was closer to us. She’s not used to a house this size.”
Miss Lind frowned. “Mrs. Sullivan’s young companion has a room up there. You’d be near someone your own age. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Daniel saved the day. “Would it be possible to have another small bed brought into this room so that Liam can sleep close to us, and then Bridie can take the little annex?”
“You want your child in a room with you?” Miss Lind’s eyeb
rows went up. I could see her about to say that such things were unheard of in her world.
“That would be most kind,” I said hurriedly. “He’ll also feel more comfortable knowing his parents are nearby.”
“I’ll go and find one of the footmen to bring down another bed then,” she said. “Your bags should be delivered momentarily and one of the maids will unpack for you.”
As her footsteps died away down the hall I turned to Daniel. “Thank you for suggesting that. Poor Bridie was looking quite terrified.”
“I didn’t want to sleep all alone up there. I might never find my way back to you,” Bridie said.
“I understand exactly, sweetheart.” I put my arm around her shoulder. Daniel put Liam down and he ran around the room, exploring, then tried to climb up onto the impossibly tall bed.
“I think we’ve already blotted our copybooks, don’t you?” I whispered to Daniel. “We’ve broken the code of the upper classes. They only see their children for ten minutes a day at tea time.”
He grinned. “Perhaps Miss Lind will return saying, ‘Never darken our door again.’ She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she?”
“Isn’t she,” I agreed. “I wonder if she bossed your mother around when they were friends as girls?”
“She obviously rules the roost in this household,” Daniel said. “Where are the couple who own the house? Surely it would be usual that they should be the ones to greet us.”
He broke off suddenly as footsteps approached our door and Miss Lind entered, followed by a sweating footman carrying parts of a brass bed frame. Another footman followed him and in seconds they had the bed assembled, a mattress was brought in, and I was glad to see a rubber sheet. Liam did have the occasional accident still. Finally a maid made up the bed.
While the work was being done I went over to the window and looked out. I could glimpse an occasional rooftop, and smoke from hidden chimneys rose up among the trees, but the house was definitely remote, surrounded by its own parkland. Over to the right I could see one rooftop, taller than the rest, and hints of an old-style half-timbered building beneath it.
“That’s certainly an impressive house,” I commented, turning back to Miss Lind. “Who does it belong to?”
“Which house, my dear?” She came over to the window.
“That one. The Tudor design.”
“Oh, that’s not a house, it’s the Briarcliff Lodge. A hotel. Awful great monstrosity, isn’t it? Only just been built in the hopes of luring city folk out to stay in the country. One gathers it is full for Christmas, although why anybody would want to spend a holiday in a hotel, I can’t imagine. Isn’t that what family and friends are for?” She turned away from the window. “In my day the only people who went to hotels were salesmen or up to no good.” She went over to examine the new bed. “Ah, there we are. All finished and ready. Elsie, go down and tell the cook that the young man would like a tray with something suitable for his luncheon. Rice pudding, maybe?”
Our bags arrived and were speedily unpacked for us, in spite of our protestations. Daniel was taken down to meet his mother, but Bridie elected to stay with me. The size and solemnity of the house had quite unnerved her. Then Liam’s lunch tray appeared—a boiled egg followed by some kind of custard. He made short work of both, having a hearty appetite. Then I washed his face and hands and put him to bed. He was reluctant but clearly tired.
“I’ll stay with him until he falls asleep,” Bridie said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. He will feel strange sleeping in a big room like this,” she said.
“But you must come down in time for our luncheon,” I said. “It would be rude not to come and meet our hosts.”
“I thought that lady was our host.”
“She’s the aunt of the lady who owns this house,” I said. “She is the one who is Mrs. Sullivan’s friend. Now, it’s time for your nap, Liam. Lie down like a good boy. Bridie will tell you a story.”
He lay down, good as gold, and I left the room to the sound of Bridie’s sweet little voice saying, “There were once three bears.…”
Six
I made my way down the stairs and followed the sound of Daniel’s voice into the room on the far side of the foyer. It was more like a long gallery in a museum than a normal room in a home. Its walls were of carved oak wood, hung with paintings, and its tall windows were composed of tiny panes of leaded glass. In its center was a huge marble fireplace in which a fire was roaring away. And around this a group of people were grouped on sofas and armchairs. Daniel was standing beside his mother, who was working on a tapestry, while Ivy perched on a stool at her feet like an obedient pet. Closest to the fire was a frail-looking old lady, a rug over her knees, her sweet and innocent face surrounded by a halo of soft white curls. She shared a sofa with a fierce-looking older man, who was drinking what looked like a neat whiskey. With her back to me was a younger woman, her light brown hair rolled into a fashionable knot. Daniel looked up and spotted me before I had plucked up the courage to make an entrance.
“Ah. Here is my wife now,” he said.
The older man had risen to his feet. “Mrs. Sullivan, you are most welcome,” he said in a booming voice that echoed with authority. He was a big fellow with bristling eyebrows and an upright stance, broad shouldered and powerful. A colonel? I wondered. Used to ordering men?
“Molly, my dear, come and join us and meet our hosts,” Mrs. Sullivan said, holding out her hands to me. “This is Daniel’s dear wife, Molly, who was so kind to me in my recent illness. She took such good care of me.”
I crossed the broad expanse of floor toward them, feeling my cheeks burning with all those eyes on me.
“You are lucky to have such a caring daughter-in-law.” The young woman looked up at me with a sweet smile. “Welcome to our house, Mrs. Sullivan. I am Winnie Van Aiken.” She rose to her feet and I saw that she was not as petite as she’d seemed at first impression. Her height matched my own, but she was far slenderer than I. Her cheeks were hollow and I could see her collarbones at the neck of her dress. I took the fragile hand she extended to me, rather worrying that I might crush it if I shook it too hard.
“How do you do, Mrs. Van Aiken?” Her hand felt icy cold, even though the room was pleasantly warm. She patted the sofa beside her and still held my hand as I sat.
“And let me introduce my other family members,” she went on. “My father, Mr. Carmichael, and my husband’s great-aunt, Miss Van Aiken. They both live here at Greenbriars with us. You’ve met my aunt Florence, who is no doubt at this moment driving terror into the hearts of our servants. And I’m not sure where my husband is. I believe he had some business to attend to in his study. He will be with us shortly, I’m sure.”
“Mr. Carmichael. Miss Van Aiken.” I gave a polite nod to them. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. How lucky for Mrs. Van Aiken to have her family here with her.”
“Yes, I’m extremely lucky.” There was something in her voice I couldn’t quite place. Was it sarcasm?
“Is this your long-lost sister we have never met come home at last?” the aged great-aunt asked, peering at me with interest.
“No, Aunt. This is Mrs. Sullivan. A guest come for Christmas,” Winnie Van Aiken replied sharply.
“There is a resemblance to you so I thought that at last we would meet her,” the elderly aunt went on, staring at me so intently that I gave her an embarrassed smile and then looked away.
“Winnie does not have a sister,” Mr. Carmichael said, glaring at her.
“Oh, but I thought…” the elderly aunt said. “I must be getting confused again. I was sure that I heard someone say…”
“Let us change the subject,” Mr. Carmichael said with firmness. “You are often confused these days, Aunt Clara.” He turned to me. “I do apologize, Mrs. Sullivan.”
There was an awkward pause.
“It is extremely kind of you to allow us to share in your Christmas festivities,
” I said, feeling it necessary to say something.
“On the contrary, it is we who are grateful. We live a quiet life. We need livening up.”
“If my son is permitted to join in the festivities, I can assure you it will be lively enough,” I said, laughing.
“Oh, yes. A lively young child is just what this place needs,” Winnie said.
“You have a young child?” Aunt Clara asked, still regarding me with a puzzled frown. “How old is this child? Another little girl, is she?”
“No, a boy. Liam. And he’s two.”
“You should take good care of him then,” Aunt Clara said. “Children can wander off so easily.”
Again an awkward silence, then Winnie said brightly, “And you have a young ward with you too, don’t you?”
“Yes, her name is Bridie and she is almost thirteen. She elected to stay with Liam so he wouldn’t be anxious about falling asleep in a strange house.”
“Please do let her know that she is most welcome to join us. And she’ll be company for this young lady too, won’t she?” She turned her smile to Ivy, who was looking at the ground, clearly mortified at being in such company. “What was your name again, my dear?”
“Her name is Ivy,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “She has recently come to me from an orphanage in the city and is proving most satisfactory.”
“Ivy. That’s a pretty name,” Winnie said.
“Not really.” Ivy looked up shyly. “All the girls at the orphanage are given flower names. I think they must have run out of flowers when I came to them. Because ivy’s not a flower, is it? It’s plain and rather nasty and it strangles other plants.”
“Then let’s hope you don’t live up to your name,” Winnie said, laughing.
Mrs. Sullivan did not look amused. “Ivy, run up and fetch my dark green yarn, would you? I seem to have left it on my bedside table.”
“Yes, Mrs. Sullivan,” Ivy said. She jumped up, turned, and promptly bumped into the wall with a clunk, making the pictures rattle.
“What is the matter with you, child?” Mrs. Sullivan said angrily.
