The Secrets of Armstrong House Page 7

  “I’m not sure. But I know you, Charles, and I just don’t buy you coming back to Armstrong House to take over your position here. You’re up to something. You’ve got a secret.”

  He started laughing. “What secret could I have?”

  “Does it involve a woman? I think it does. I think you’re in love with a woman.”

  “And who am I in love with?” he asked.

  “I don’t know . . . But it isn’t straightforward. It’s complicated, that’s what I think . . . There’s something holding you back from being with her and it’s driving you mad . . . is she married?”

  “Emily!” Charles looked at her, shocked.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t mind if she was!” said Emily quickly.

  “Well, the good lady’s husband might!” said Charles.

  “If she were married, I wouldn’t judge you, honestly. I’m very open-minded.”

  “Are you indeed?”

  “Absolutely. In fact, I can’t understand why everyone is horrified that Charles Stewart Parnell is having an affair with a married woman. I don’t know why he’s being ruined by it.”

  “You’d better not let Mother hear you say that.”

  “All I’m saying is, if you are in some – situation – with a woman that’s . . . complicated . . . I can help you. I’m a very loyal ally, Charles. And if you need me to help, to cover up, to carry messages – anything at all – you can trust me.” She looked adoringly at him.

  “Don’t live your life through other people’s lives, Emily. Live your own life.”

  “Are you in love, Charles?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know . . . I’m not sure . . . I haven’t thought it through properly.” She was staring at him, burning with curiosity, and he smiled at her. “No, there isn’t anybody – I’m only teasing you. Now, shut up and let’s go down to the lake.” He dug his heels into his horse and took off quickly.

  Walking into the restaurant, Arabella spotted Charles sitting at the table alone and felt agitated, wondering where Harrison was.

  “Where’s Harrison?” she asked straight away.

  “Ahh, I’m afraid he’s been held up at work,” said Charles.

  Arabella looked annoyed. “I really wish he would tell me if he’s going to be late.”

  “Well, he knew you would be in safe hands with me.”

  She ignored him and picked up the menu.

  “I took the liberty of already ordering your starter for you . . . Well, you always order scallops for starters, so it was no mystery.”

  The waiter arrived with two plates of scallops and placed one in front of Charles and the other in front of Arabella.

  Arabella looked at the scallops. “Could you take this away please?” She glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the French cheese tartlet instead.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  “Why don’t you want scallops tonight?” asked Charles.

  She said nothing.

  He paused before asking, “Is it because I ordered them?”

  She ignored him and continued to look around the restaurant.

  Charles sat back and studied her. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

  “I’m sure I neither like nor dislike you.”

  He sat forward. “Have I ever been unpleasant or discourteous to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is your problem with me?”

  She stared at him a long time. “Have you no life of your own? Every time I turn to look, there you are. Don’t you have an estate you need to run?”

  “I’ve as much right to be in Dublin as anyone. I’ve every right to be in the house in Merrion Square as much as Harrison does. More in fact, as it will be mine one day as the future Lord Armstrong.”

  “Don’t you ever think myself and Harrison do not want you with us all the time?”

  “Has Harrison said so?”

  “No but –”

  “Then it’s you who doesn’t want me.”

  She leaned towards him and spoke quietly. “I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you are up to or what you want, but I don’t trust you. You might have everyone else fooled with your charm and your ways, but not me . . . I do not trust you!”

  They glared at each other.

  Just then Arabella saw Harrison enter the restaurant and whispered, “And to answer your question – no – no, I do not like you!”

  Harrison reached the table and sat down. “I am so sorry! It’s entirely your father’s fault I am late, Arabella.”

  “My father?” she said, smiling warmly at him.

  “Yes. With this award he has been given.” He turned to explain to Charles. “Sir George has been given a big award by the Bankers Federation of America. We were having a drink to celebrate at work tonight.”

  “How very nice for him,” said Charles coolly as he avoided looking at Arabella.

  “That’s right – my parents are thrilled with it.” Arabella spoke happily and lightly. “They have to travel to New York next month for him to accept the award.” She felt as though a weight had been lifted from her since she’d told Charles her feelings about him.

  “Next month! But that’s December – will they be back for Christmas?” said Harrison.

  “No, nor will I. I’m travelling with them,” said Arabella.

  “No!” Harrison was crestfallen. “But you can’t leave me alone at Christmas, can she, Charles?”

  “Indeed, it would be heartless,” said Charles as he gave Arabella a cold stare.

  “What option do I have?” said Arabella.

  “You can come and spend Christmas at Armstrong House with my family, can’t she, Charles?” said Harrison.

  Charles said nothing as he continued to stare.

  “You are silly, Harrison – that is out of the question,” said Arabella.

  “Why? There would be nothing inappropriate. My mother can act as your chaperone,” said Harrison.

  “Harrison, I will not be spending Christmas at Armstrong House.” She turned towards Charles and they glared coldly at each other.

  Charles was sitting on the train as he made his way back home after the weekend. He sat staring out the window at the passing countryside, Arabella’s words ringing in his ears – ‘I do not trust you’, and ‘no – no – I do not like you!’ He had tried everything with her, but she was immune to him. It made him want her all the more. He would have to change tack, he realised.

  chapter 7

  The following Friday Arabella arrived with her parents at the Mansion House where a ball was being given by the Lord Mayor. They climbed the steps and entered the grand foyer of the building in Dawson Street, where Harrison was waiting for them.

  “May I take your coats?” said the concierge.

  Arabella untied her silk cape and handed it over.

  As her mother and father chatted to Harrison, they made their way through the elegant crowd to the main room. Arabella’s eyes surveyed the crowd, searching for Charles.

  “Where’s Charles?”

  “I don’t know,” said Harrison.

  “Is he not coming tonight?”

  “He’s not in Dublin, so I suppose he’s not.”

  “Not in Dublin? Why not?”

  “I haven’t heard from him.” He held out his arms to her. “Shall we dance?”

  She nodded and went into his arms and the two of them joined the couples swirling around the dance floor. As she danced, her thoughts were preoccupied with Charles. As she replayed the conversation they’d had in the restaurant, she knew her words had been cutting and unkind – she had meant them to be. But she thought they would have had as much impact on a man like Charles as water off a duck’s back. She was sure Charles had been held up on estate business, and would be back in Dublin the following weekend.

  But Charles wasn’t in Dublin the following weekend either. Arabella had found herself wondering all week would he show up. And when he didn’t arrive to join Harrison and her on their weekend activiti
es, she realised it must be what she said that was keeping him away.

  The following week, she found she did far more than just wonder if Charles would show up the next weekend. She did little else but think about it. She found herself waiting expectantly for Friday to arrive. And when there was no sign of him she was disappointed.

  “Whatever has happened to Charles?” Arabella asked Harrison as they took tea in a tearoom on Grafton Street on the Saturday afternoon.

  “Nothing, I imagine,” said Harrison as he took a bite from the Victoria cream cake.

  “I just find it very strange that one couldn’t turn without seeing him for weekend after weekend and now he has just disappeared.”

  “Oh, well, that’s Charles for you. Something grabs his attention and it’s like it takes over his life. Then something else comes along, and he’s off obsessing on that.”

  “It’s not a very balanced way to lead your life.”

  Harrison laughed loudly. “I don’t think balance is something Charles particularly wants in life . . . I imagine some young lady has turned his head. The hunt season has begun.”

  Harrison’s words didn’t calm her: they seemed to set something off in her. Something she had never experienced before. An anger, an irritation that seemed to grip her heart. Was this jealousy? And why should she be jealous of this man she despised? Why should she worry? But she did worry. And what worried her most was her reaction.

  Caroline looked in a full-length mirror at the sparkling ensemble she was wearing.

  “What do you think?” she asked Arabella who was sitting on a chaise-longue.

  “Very nice,” said Arabella absent-mindedly.

  “Nice!” exclaimed Caroline. “I don’t want to look just nice! I need to look dazzling for New York!” She turned to look at her daughter who was staring off into the distance. “Arabella! Are you even listening to me?”

  Arabella was jolted out of her trance. “Yes, of course. The dress is beautiful, Mama.”

  Caroline went and sat down on the chaise-longue beside Arabella.

  “Arabella, what is wrong with you these past few weeks? You’re so distracted, and bad-tempered even.”

  “Mama, I don’t want to go to New York!”

  “Don’t want to go to New York? It’s a wonderful opportunity to see it. And we’ll be staying at The Plaza and –”

  “I just don’t want to go.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I hate travelling at sea – I hate steam liners – I’ll be ill all the time.”

  “The journey will last less than a week. Besides, you have no choice. We can hardly leave you without a chaperone for the whole time of Christmas.”

  “I’ve been invited down to Armstrong House for Christmas,” said Arabella suddenly.

  “Armstrong House?” Realisation dawned on Caroline. “So this is all about Harrison, is it?”

  “No, yes, it’s about everything!” Arabella suddenly became upset.

  Caroline put her arms around Arabella. “But, dear child, Harrison will be here when you get back from New York.”

  “You can’t take anything for granted.”

  “Well, I think you can take Harrison’s love for you for granted – it’s as plain to see as daylight.”

  “Oh, Mama, please don’t make me go to New York!” Arabella said, her eyes pleading. “I can’t bear to be away from him for so long. And I’ll be well chaperoned at Armstrong House with Lady Margaret, and Gwyneth and everyone else.”

  Caroline had always had a weakness for romance. She believed in the simplicity of true love, destiny, and happy-ever-afters. But as she spoke to her husband that night in their bedroom about Arabella’s wishes, she knew he would be far more practical about the whole business.

  “Never heard anything like it!” he dismissed. “Not coming to New York indeed because she can’t bear to be apart from Harrison!”

  “Well, I don’t think there’s a point in pushing her to do something she doesn’t want to. She is an adult now, and soon to be married to Harrison.”

  “We have always allowed her more freedom than most young girls her age.”

  “Arabella was always such a sensible and mature girl that there was never anything to fear with her.”

  “True!” sighed George.

  “And Harrison is so sensible and mature as well.”

  “True,” George conceded again.

  “She couldn’t have a better chaperone than Lady Margaret over Christmas. The woman frets if there is a knife out of place at the table, let alone anything else.”

  “And what about the Land War?”

  “Oh, I think we’ve seen for ourselves that the Armstrong estate is perfectly safe and outside the reaches of it. Arabella will be in no danger there.”

  “Oh, very well,” George sighed again.

  “You are the most marvellous man!” Caroline leaned forward and kissed him.

  “Better than being stuck with a lovelorn sulky daughter for the whole trip!”

  Margaret was opening her letters at breakfast in the dining room at Armstrong House.

  “A letter from Caroline Tattinger,” she said as she read it quickly. “She asks if Arabella could stay with us for Christmas while they are in New York.”

  “How lovely!” said Gwyneth.

  “Seemingly Arabella suffers from severe sea sickness and can’t face the journey across the Atlantic.” Margaret put the letter back in the envelope.

  “As Gwyneth said, it will be lovely to have her,” said Lawrence.

  “Harrison will certainly be delighted,” said Margaret. “You’d swear she was never coming back the way he’s been so desolate in his letters at the thought of her going!”

  “Is there anything as enchanting as young love?” smiled Charles. He sat back, thinking. His plan was working. He just had to be very careful now not to do anything to upset it.

  Arabella was amazed when her parents consented to her going to Armstrong House. Amazed, delighted and then terrified. She had never thought they would have allowed it, and so the decision would have been taken out of her hands. She wouldn’t have to see Charles again or confront what he had stirred in her. Now she was terrified of what seeing him again would provoke in her.

  She was being silly, she then reasoned. This was for the best. She would see Charles again and quickly realise she had let her mind run away with her these past weeks. She would see him and know that she had built him up into something he wasn’t, and built her feelings up into something they weren’t at all. She was going to Armstrong House to confront her real feelings for Charles and discover they amounted to nothing. Then she would put the whole sorry experience behind her, and get on with life with Harrison.

  The Tattingers set off to catch the steamship in Cork and a spinster aunt had been dispatched to the Tattinger home to mind Arabella until she was to go to Armstrong House on Christmas Eve.

  Arabella was counting the days.

  chapter 8

  On Christmas Eve, Harrison collected her from Ailesbury Road in a cab and they continued to the train station. Snow was beginning to fall as they made their way through the Dublin streets. It had become heavy by the time they reached the station and walked through the bustling crowd to the first-class carriage where they had reservations.

  “Everyone can’t wait to see you again,” said Harrison excitedly. “Mother is putting you in the Blue Room. That’s the best guest room.”

  “Very kind of her.”

  Harrison prattled on about what to expect over Christmas at Armstrong House.

  “Christmas is always such a special time there. There’s always the hunt the day after Christmas. All the gentry come from far and wide . . .”

  Arabella barely listened as she looked out the window at the countryside turning white under the snow.

  By the time the train pulled into the station at Castlewest, the snow lay thick on the ground. As Arabella followed Harrison across the train platform, she was hoping Charles
would be at the station to meet them. The Charles she had known in Dublin would have been eagerly waiting for them, full of compliments for her. As a servant came rushing to assist with the luggage, she realised Charles wasn’t coming.

  Their carriage drove the several miles to Armstrong House carefully through the snow. It entered the main gates to the estate and travelled along the lakeshore up the long winding driveway until Armstrong House, a vision in the snow, came into view across the lake.

  The carriage pulled into the forecourt and Harrison assisted Arabella through the falling snow and up the steps to the front door where Barton was waiting.

  “Merry Christmas, Barton,” said Harrison as he took off his snow-covered cloak and handed it over.

  “Same to you, sir, and Miss Tattinger,” said Barton as two footmen carried in their luggage and took it upstairs to their rooms.

  Arabella looked around and saw the hall had been decorated in holly, ivy and mistletoe, and a giant Christmas tree stood in a corner, lighted candles twinkling on the branches. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, with turf smells filling the air.

  “The family is in the drawing room, sir,” said Barton as he led them across the hallway and opened the door for them.

  Arabella held her breath as she followed Harrison in.

  “There you are!” said Margaret, coming to greet and hug them. “Arabella, we’re delighted to have you!”

  “And thank you for having me,” said Arabella, looking around the room.

  There was Lawrence at the fireplace, smiling warmly as Gwyneth followed her mother to embrace them. Daphne was waving at them and smiling as she put the final touches to another giant Christmas tree in the corner of that room. Emily was sitting and observing them coolly and making no move to greet them. James was pouring himself a large brandy.

  But no Charles. Where was Charles?

  “Awful for you to be separated from your family for Christmas. You suffer terrible sea sickness, they say?” said Margaret as she led her to the couch.