The Secrets of Armstrong House Page 9

  Arabella quickly pushed Charles away. “It’s Harrison!” she said and turned to mount.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked urgently as he helped her.

  “At dinner tonight, I expect.” She turned the horse around.

  “You know what I mean!” he insisted.

  She tapped her whip against the horse’s flank and it took off through the wood.

  As she emerged from the wood she saw Harrison surveying the rolling countryside, luckily with his back to her. She trotted in his direction.

  He turned as he heard her approach. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he called.

  “I’m so sorry, Harrison. I got left behind and was totally lost.”

  “Come on, let’s join the others. They lost the fox – they’re gathered on the top of the hill.”

  Back at the edge of the wood, Charles smiled to himself as he watched them ride off. His plan had worked spectacularly.

  After the hunt everyone came back to Armstrong House for food and drinks.

  Arabella sat shivering in the drawing room even though the fires were blazing as Gwyneth wittered on about the Duke and her wedding. Arabella wasn’t listening to a word as she sat bewildered about what had happened with Charles in the wood.

  Harrison came over to her. “You’re very quiet this evening, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want me to get you anything?”

  “No.”

  “You’re shivering!” he said, putting an arm around her.

  “I’m just a little cold.”

  “I’ll fetch you a shawl.”

  “No need.”

  “Every need.”

  “For goodness sake, Harrison, stop fussing!” she snapped. “You’re worse than your mother!”

  Harrison’s face clouded with hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Harrison. I just don’t feel very well . . . I think I’ll go to bed early.” She got up and left the room.

  Margaret saw Harrison looking concerned and walked over to him, asking, “Where is Arabella going?”

  “To bed. I think she must have caught a cold out on the hunt.”

  “More likely from the dress she was wearing the other evening!” mused Margaret.

  Arabella dimmed the lights in her room and tried to block out the noise coming from the party downstairs. As midnight came and went the laughter and chatter petered out.

  She looked out her window and saw the last of the carriages and horses of the guests leave as the snow started to fall again. The house fell into silence as everyone went to bed. She paced up and down as the fire in the hearth kept the room in a warm glow. She would cut short her stay at Armstrong House and return to Dublin first thing in the morning. She had treaded into very dangerous territory and she had lost control.

  There was a quiet knock on her door. Startled, she ignored it. The knock came again. She walked across the room and opened the door.

  Charles was standing there.

  “Charles! Are you mad, somebody will see!” she hissed, glancing up and down the corridor. He quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him.

  “Charles, if anyone should discover you here, I’d be ruined!”

  “I can’t leave, not without knowing what is to become of us.”

  She started pacing up and down again. “Nothing will happen, because nothing can happen. I’m to marry your brother next year. We have no right. I blame myself as much as you – more so, in fact – I should have kept away.”

  “And how would you have filled that gap in your life you were telling me about?”

  “I would just ignore it.”

  “Until it became bigger and bigger and would end by swallowing you up.”

  “It is, as I said, impossible. If I had met you first, maybe we might have had a future. I wish I had met you first – I wish I had never met you at all!”

  She stopped pacing and stood looking into the fire, rubbing her hands against her temples.

  He walked slowly to her and carefully put his arms around her.

  “Go, Charles, please just go! We can never be together.”

  He turned back and locked the door. Then he led her over to the bed, kissing her, and whispered: “This might be the only way we can be together.”

  Charles heard the clock down in the hallway chime six times. He was lying on his back in Arabella’s bed, her hand lying across his chest as he held her close. The fire was dying in the fireplace as the snow outside continued to fall against the window.

  “I’d better go – the servants will be up soon,” he said.

  “Do you feel ashamed and guilty?” she asked as she concentrated on the dying embers in the fireplace.

  “No – why should I?”

  “Because Harrison is fast asleep a few rooms down from here.”

  “What do you want me to say? That I do feel guilty? Then that makes me a bastard. And if I say I don’t? Then that makes me a bastard as well!”

  “And I wonder what it all makes me?”

  He kissed her forehead.

  “I’m trying hard to feel guilty and ashamed myself,” she said.

  He pushed her away and got of bed and started to dress.

  “Promise me one thing, Charles?” she said, sitting up frantically. “Promise me Harrison will never find out.”

  “Of course he can never find out!” He bent over and kissed her and then left.

  Arabella didn’t know what the night had made her. All she knew was she had smashed every rule in the rule book. Torn it up and thrown it into the fire. She wasn’t sure how it all had happened. Yet as she dressed to go down to breakfast, she felt happier than she had in a long time.

  Harrison was full of concern in the dining room. “How do you feel this morning?”

  “Oh, much better, thank you,” she said, smiling at everyone at the table.

  “You probably just needed a good night,” smirked Charles from across the table, and he continued to read his newspaper.

  Later, in the drawing room, Arabella was standing at the window looking out at the newly fallen layer of snow.

  “They’ve all gone skating down on the lake – a good part of it is frozen over,” said Charles as he came up behind her and stood at her side.

  “So I believe.”

  “I need to see you tonight,” he whispered.

  She paused for a few moments and then said, “Yes.”

  “You’ll have to come to me.”

  “What?”

  “Your room is too risky. It’s too near the stairs – there are too many people up and down. My room is at the end of the corridor, much safer . . . Well?”

  “All right,” she said.

  That night Arabella waited until half twelve before she slipped out of her room. She looked up and down the corridor and, seeing it was empty, with her heart pounding she hurried down the corridor and knocked gently on Charles’ door. There was no answer and she knocked again louder.

  “Charles!” she whispered through the door.

  Eventually the door opened, and she rushed in.

  “What took you so long? I could have been spotted!” she said, shivering with nerves at the thought of being caught.

  “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”

  They stood there looking at each other, and then she rushed to him.

  The days passed over the Christmas period at Armstrong House with a series of lunches, dinners, walks along the lake, or horse riding. But the nights were all that Arabella could think of as she waited for them to arrive. By the end of the week, Arabella realised her infatuation with Charles had almost become a fever with her. As she observed the Armstrongs she realised what a happy family they were in their privileged world. She realised what she was doing with Charles could blow this happy family to smithereens, and yet she continued with the secret glances and snatched clandestine conversations with Charles during the day. And continued to make the journey down to his room each night wh
en she was content the house was silent and everyone had gone to their rooms. It was only for the week, she told herself. A quick affair that would burn itself out and she would go back to life as normal with Harrison. And yet her feelings were so strong she already knew this could never happen. She had crossed barriers she never thought possible for her.

  It was the night before New Year’s Eve. He stroked her hair as she lay in bed and they heard the clock downstairs chime six times, the sound she had come to dread as she knew it indicated the time she had to leave him.

  Emily was in her room, tossing and turning. She had been unable to get to sleep that night. She wondered if the cook was up yet and whether she could make her some warm milk to lull her to sleep for a few hours at least.

  I suppose I could always try making it myself – it can’t be that difficult, she said to herself as she got out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She opened her door and walked down the corridor. She loved Armstrong House at this time in the early morning. There was so much activity during the day with people coming and going, and now there was just silence.

  She was surprised to hear a door open and turned to see who else was up.

  To her astonishment she saw Arabella come out of Charles’ room, in her dressing gown. She watched in shock as Arabella closed the door after her and began to hurry down the corridor.

  Arabella stopped and stood rigid as she saw Emily standing there glaring at her.

  The two stared at each other, both standing stock-still and silent.

  Arabella was the first to move. She quickly continued to walk down the corridor, past Emily who she didn’t acknowledge, to her room which she entered, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Emily continued to stand stock-still in shock and she tried to comprehend what she had witnessed.

  It was ten the next morning and Arabella was sitting on her bed, her face in her hands. She knew they were all having breakfast downstairs, no doubt wondering where she was, but she couldn’t face going down and seeing Emily. She felt pure panic at the thought.

  There was a knock on her door. “Arabella!” Harrison called. “Aren’t you coming down for breakfast?”

  “Just coming!” She tried to sound happy as she stood up and went to the door.

  Harrison was waiting for her.

  “I said to let you have a lie-in, but Mother said you needed to eat breakfast to set you up for the day,” explained Harrison as they walked along the corridor to the top of the stairs.

  “What, to play more card games and discuss Gwyneth’s wedding plans again?” she asked.

  Harrison was embarrassed. “I didn’t realise we bored you!”

  As they reached the hall at the bottom of the stairs she stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Harrison, that was ungrateful of me. I’ve enjoyed the week immensely.”

  He nodded and led her into the dining room where the rest of the family were finishing their breakfast.

  “Good morning!” said Margaret.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” said Arabella.

  Arabella looked down the table. Emily was sitting at the end of the table, her face pale, staring at the food in front of her.

  “Emily! Sit up and eat up!” ordered Margaret.

  Emily straightened her shoulders and, picking up her fork, started to play with her food. Then she suddenly pushed her chair back and rushed from the room. “Emily!” called her mother but she was gone. “That girl!” she sighed. “I despair of ever teaching her any manners!”

  Arabella’s heart sank at Emily’s lack of control – she felt it was only a matter of time before she exposed her.

  After breakfast she approached Charles in the hall.

  “I need to speak to you urgently!” she whispered.

  “What about?”

  “Where can I meet you that we can talk in private?”

  “Go for a walk into the gardens of the first terrace. I’ll meet you by the fountain at two.”

  Arabella found it hard to escape Harrison’s constant attention for the day. She pretended she needed to have a lie-down in the afternoon, but instead quickly put on her coat, hat and gloves and headed for the rendezvous point with Charles. She walked along to the extensive gardens that led from the first terrace to the maze of footpaths and shrubberies until she found the fountain, which was frozen over and still covered in snow. She waited impatiently for him, walking round and round the fountain until he arrived.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing her panic-stricken face.

  “Emily! She saw me coming out of your room this morning!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure! She stood there staring at me as if she had seen a ghost!”

  Charles spotted a gardener tending to some snow-covered plants.

  “Let’s walk,” he suggested and they set off, walking through the pathways of the gardens.

  “What are we going to do, Charles?” Arabella pleaded. “If she tells anybody, I’ll be ruined, and Harrison will be destroyed and your whole family will be –”

  “She said nothing?” he interrupted.

  “Not a word. She just stared at me in silence.”

  “At least it wasn’t Gwyneth or Daphne who saw you.”

  “But what will Emily do?”

  “I’ll go and talk to her.”

  “Charles, we’ve been playing with fire and now we’re going to burn!” said Arabella and turning she put her hand on his chest.

  “Arabella, the gardener!” Charles nodded over at the man who was wheeling a wheelbarrow nearby. Arabella quickly removed her hand and they continued walking.

  Charles hovered outside Emily’s door before knocking. There was no answer and so he knocked again.

  “Emily – it’s Charles,” he said through the door.

  He waited and a moment later heard the door being unlocked. It opened slightly. He pushed it back and stepped inside.

  Emily was standing at an easel, painting.

  “What are you painting?” he asked.

  “Why don’t you see for yourself?” suggested Emily who didn’t look at him once as she continued her work.

  Charles walked over and saw she was painting a portrait of him.

  “I didn’t realise you were painting me,” he said, surprised.

  “I’ve been working on it for a couple of months.”

  “It’s very good – if a little flattering!”

  He walked around the room and picked up a book written by Karl Marx.

  “Marx!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realise you were a communist.”

  “I find his thoughts interesting.”

  He put the book down. “Emily . . . what you saw this morning . . .”

  “Arabella coming out of your room in her dressing gown?”

  “Eh – yes – it’s not what it may seem –”

  “I know exactly what it seems and what it is.” She stopped painting and put down her paint brush. “You’ve been seducing her behind Harrison’s back!”

  “You don’t understand –”

  “Don’t I? Because it all looks very clear to me.” She walked over to him. “Harrison is engaged to her, Charles. How could you?”

  “Do you think I planned any of this?”

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “Only this week. Just this week, I swear.”

  “Harrison has to know what kind of a woman he’s mixed up with.”

  Charles became panicked. “Emily, you must never tell anybody what you saw, do you understand me? There’s too much at stake. Nobody can ever find out, do you hear me?”

  “But –”

  He turned from her, walked to the window and looked out. “I thought you and I were always the closest. I thought we understood each other.”

  “Yes – but this is different!”

  “So were you lying to me that day when we went out riding?” He turned and looked at her, his face full of hurt. “Remember? When you said I could always
rely on you. And you thought I was seeing a married woman and said you would cover for me, help me, act as a go-between even.”

  “But that was before I realised the wronged man was Harrison!”

  “So you’re choosing him over me?”

  “No – but –”

  He picked up the Marx book. “And everything you pretend you are – unconventional, rebellious – that’s just all an act, is it?”

  “But you must see!”

  “I see I’m in love with Arabella and she is in love with me.”

  Emily sat down on the bed. “Oh Charles! Of all the women to fall in love with!”

  “We couldn’t help it. And now she is returning to Dublin in a couple of days and I might never see her again, only at family occasions when she’s married to Harrison.”

  He sat down on the bed and put his face in his hands, then reached up and grabbed her hand.

  “Oh Charles!” Emily put her arms around him and held him tightly.

  “I know she’s Harrison’s,” he said. “I know they can never break up, because it would destroy him. All I’m asking for is some time with her – is that too much to ask?”

  “I suppose not . . .”

  “And what Harrison never knows won’t hurt him.”

  “But it’s so dangerous!”

  “I can’t keep away from her, Emily. Not yet.” Charles started sobbing.

  “All right – you know you can rely on me. I will cover for you. I’ll say nothing. And when she returns to Dublin, she can write to me to plan your assignations.”

  “Emily! I can’t ask that you do that!”

  “I insist. As you said, there’s no point in me pretending to be something if I don’t follow it through. You and Arabella are in love, and I will help you. I told you before I would help and now I will – even if it is with Harrison’s fiancée.”

  “Thanks, Emily,” he said, wiping away a tear.

  There was a knock on Arabella’s door that night. She put on her dressing gown and went to open it.

  “Charles!” she said as he quickly entered and closed the door behind him.

  “Did you speak to Emily? What did she say?” she asked frantically.