Songs of Love and War (33 page)

‘You sent her to America?’ Kitty was astounded.

‘She’s starting a new life, Kitty. It’s what she wanted.’

Kitty’s eyes began to water. ‘You sent her away without her baby? How could you?’

‘It’s what she wanted,’ he repeated.

‘I don’t believe that. Bridie has a heart. I know she does.’ She gazed into the basket. ‘He’s my half-brother,’ she added.

‘He’s a bastard,’ Bertie retorted.

‘Then he’s
my
bastard.’ Kitty felt a swell of affection for the helpless creature and a keen sense of loyalty to her friend.

‘I will not have him in this house.’ Her father’s face reddened. When he turned to look at her she was surprised to see his countenance so void of compassion. ‘He will
return to the convent as arranged. You’re in no position to raise a child on your own. How do you imagine you’re going to find a husband if you have a baby to tarnish your
reputation?’

‘You sound like Mama,’ she stated sharply.

‘Perhaps she spoke sense, after all.’

‘I’ll get by.’

‘And what of my reputation? How will you explain to people that you suddenly have a child?’

‘He’s a foundling I took in. Left on our doorstep. That’s the truth, isn’t it? I can’t imagine how, but Bridie found a way of getting her baby to us. I admire her
for her bravery. I’m not going to let her down. The child belongs here, at Castle Deverill.’

Bertie drained his glass and went to the drinks tray to pour another. His hand was trembling as he lifted the crystal decanter. ‘She came to me willingly,’ he said quietly, pouring
the golden liquid into the glass. Kitty didn’t reply. The image of Michael’s dark face loomed large in her mind, his voice insistent:
He raped my sister.
‘I was
careless,’ Bertie added. He put the glass to his lips and shook his head. ‘That is the result of my carelessness.’

‘But I will love him and bring him up as a Deverill. He’s our flesh and blood. See, he’s even got my red hair. I don’t care what you say or what anyone else says. I owe
it to Bridie.’

‘You won’t get a penny from me,’ said her father and Kitty felt the cold slap of rejection.

She delved deep and found her courage. ‘I won’t ever ask.’ She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. There was one person she knew she could call on to help
her. After all, didn’t Grace Rowan-Hampton owe her her life?

Bertie swallowed his second whiskey and closed his eyes to shut out the room which was suddenly spinning and making him dizzy. He felt sick to his stomach. He had thought he
could cover up his blunder by sending Bridie to America and giving her baby to the nuns. Grace had assured him that the whole unfortunate business would simply disappear. But no, the boy, by the
inevitable march of fate, had found his way right to his doorstep. He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t face thinking about it. Guilt had stalked him like a hunter and finally caught him. He
surrendered to it like a cornered animal with nowhere to run.

The fact that the bastard was his would not remain a secret for very long. The shame would be immense. Suddenly he worried what Maud would say. Maud, whom he despised for all her bourgeois
pettiness and ambition. If she were an aristocrat like Grace she’d probably accept the child and raise it as her own, but Maud had no breeding and no taste for eccentricity. He had married
her for her beauty and her iciness, which had once posed so great a challenge for a man who could have anybody. Who would want him now? Even Grace had turned away from him.

He walked to his desk and sat down. Beads of sweat collected on his skin. He opened the bottom drawer and found his gun hidden beneath a pile of papers. Carefully he lifted it out. The last time
he had held it was the day Grace had rejected him. The day he had put it to his temple. The day he had failed to end it all and fallen like a drunken coward, hitting his head on the side of the
desk, only to be found later, bleeding and defeated in the corridor, by Bridie. That was where it had all started. Before that moment he hadn’t ever noticed her. But every action has a
consequence. That moment had changed his fate. Grace hadn’t wanted him any more but Bridie did.

Again he pressed the barrel to his temple. Again he closed his eyes. Again his finger trembled on the trigger. And again he lacked the courage to take his own life.

Kitty and the baby arrived at Grace’s manor in the Daimler. The stables and garages had not been affected by the fire and the chauffeur was grateful he still had a job.
Brennan the butler glanced at the baby curiously before showing her into the hall and telling her firmly to wait while he announced her to his mistress. Kitty did as she was told, shifting her
weight from one foot to the other with impatience. He seemed to be gone a long time before Grace appeared at last, her shoes tapping lightly across the marble floor. Her eyes dropped to the basket
and a look of concern blackened her face. ‘What is this?’ she asked, and for a moment Kitty wondered whether it was asking too much of her friend to help with her father’s
illegitimate child.

‘Oh Grace, it’s a long story . . .’ Kitty began, suddenly feeling weak beneath the burden of responsibility. ‘I’m sorry I brought him here. I had nowhere else to
go.’

‘This is Bridie’s child,’ Grace said.

‘You know?’

‘Don’t look so surprised, my dear. Your father had no one to turn to, either. It appears I’m the only available port in a storm.’

‘Do you know who put him on my doorstep?’ Kitty asked.

‘He was left on your doorstep?’

‘With a note.’

‘May I see it?’

Kitty pulled it out of her pocket. Grace read it and her irritation appeared to deepen. ‘I don’t know who wrote this,’ she said quickly, handing it back. ‘But it’s
clear to me that either Bridie herself managed to spirit her son out of the convent and send him down here, or someone who very much wants
you
to raise her child. I can imagine your father
was none too pleased to see him.’

‘He wanted me to send him back. He was furious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.’

‘Give him time. He’ll regret his outburst, I have no doubt. In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you like.’

‘Oh, thank you, Grace.’ Kitty sank onto the sofa and put her head in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to tremble. Grace’s irritation evaporated and she sat
down beside her and drew her against her breast as a mother with her child. ‘It’s going to be all right, Kitty,’ she soothed. ‘This is a tremendous responsibility for a
young girl like you, especially after everything you have been through.’ But Kitty was now thinking of Jack. She closed her eyes and let out her anguish into Grace’s arms.

‘Jack wants me to go to America with him,’ she told her. ‘He’s going to be waiting for me at dawn, by the wall in the vegetable garden. But I can’t . . .’ Her
voice broke. ‘I can’t—’

‘You can’t go now.’ Grace spoke for her. ‘Of course you can’t go. You have a duty to Bridie’s child and the practicalities of taking a small baby to America
are simply too complicated. How would you feed yourself let alone a baby? Jack will understand. If you love each other, you’ll both wait.’

Kitty was reassured. ‘He’ll come back when there’s peace, won’t he?’

Grace swept away a stray tear with her thumb. ‘Of course he will, my dear.’

‘You’re very kind, Grace.’ Kitty looked deeply into her friend’s gentle brown eyes and felt a swell of gratitude. ‘I regret ever having doubted you.’

The following morning Kitty went to the wall to wait for Jack. Dawn was riding the night’s sky, illuminating the darkness with bright stripes of indigo and gold. She had
been too nervous to sleep. She knew she was asking a lot of Jack to wait for her, but there was nothing else she could do. She owed it to her friend to take care of her son. She owed it to the
Deverills.

At last Jack appeared at the wall in his jacket and cap, a shabby bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at Kitty but his smile soon faded when he saw her inappropriate attire and the fact that
she had not brought a bag. He paled. ‘You’re not coming, are you?’ he said and his obvious disappointment made Kitty’s heart buckle.

‘I can’t.’ Kitty thrust her hands into her coat pockets. She couldn’t tell him about her father and Bridie and the baby; it was too complicated and still too raw.
He’d ask her to leave the baby. He’d persuade her to elope with him. She might weaken and then what? ‘I can’t leave Grandma, and Papa needs me,’ she said.

‘Oh Kitty . . .’ he groaned. He put his hand on his hip and turned away. His profile was as hard as if it were carved out of granite. He stared into the distance, lost in thought.
His mouth, drawn into a bitter line, reminded her of the boy he had once been when the tinker had hit him on the jaw. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her it was all over. That goodbye
was forever. But he took off his cap, settled his intense blue eyes on hers once again and gathered her into his arms where he held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. ‘Then as God is
my witness, I’ll come back for you,’ he said, and the passion in his voice left her in no doubt that he would. ‘When peace returns to Ireland I’ll come back and marry
you.’

‘And we’ll remain here in Ballinakelly,’ she replied through her tears. ‘They’ll all just have to get used to it.’ She pulled an envelope out of her pocket
and gave it to him. ‘For you to take to America so you don’t forget me.’

‘I’ll never forget you, Kitty. For as long as I live your face will be engraved on my heart.’ He kissed her one last time and Kitty closed her eyes to commit it to memory.

Jack put the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket and disappeared into the wood, leaving Kitty alone in the garden with only the sound of squabbling crows that picked at the castle ruins
like thieves in a graveyard.

She let her gaze wander down the familiar paths of her childhood. The greenhouses with their domed roofs, the rows of growing vegetables, the walls where jasmine and clematis grew in abundance
in the summertime, the immaculately manicured lawns where they had played croquet and tennis, which were neglected now and overgrown with weeds. Her heart pined for her lost youth and the girl she
once was, rebellious, carefree and wild. She hadn’t realized how happy she had been. In spite of Miss Grieve’s cruelty and her mother’s rejection, her cares had been few. She
remembered watching the nature spirits that had danced in little balls of light around the flowerbeds, the ghosts who had been her most regular companions, the secret conversations about fairies
she had enjoyed with her grandmother in her little sitting room that smelt of turf fire and lilac. It was all gone; all of it. Who was she now and where did she belong? She was nothing more than a
ghost herself, haunting the castle that had gone too.

Suddenly, she was seized by a dreadful sense of regret and the realization that she had just made an awful mistake. She put her hands to her head and let out a loud wail. ‘What have I
done!’ she shouted into the empty garden. With her heart thumping and the blood pulsating in her temples she ran towards the wall where she had left Jack. How could she give him up when she
knew that living without him would be impossible? How could she sacrifice her love for a child who didn’t even belong to her? What had she been thinking? Why was she so ready to forfeit her
own happiness when no one demanded it of her, only her own misplaced sense of duty?

Her throat constricted with panic as she ran through the woods, taking the short cut to Ballinakelly where Jack would be waiting for the train, reflecting perhaps on his loss. She could barely
see the way for the tears that blurred her vision. It didn’t matter that she had no belongings save the clothes she was wearing. If she was with Jack she’d have everything she needed.
If they were together, they’d require only the air they breathed: love would do the rest. She sprinted on, falling over a tree stump as she hurried down the hill, not caring that her dress
tore on the brambles and her skin ripped on the thorns. She was desperate not to miss him. Once gone, she feared, he might be gone forever.

At length she stumbled into town. Her face was smeared with tears and dirt, her hair a tangled mess. She envisaged herself running into his arms and the sense of relief was almost within her
grasp. Everything was going be all right. Soon they’d be together and nothing would ever part them again.

She hastened through a small copse, reaching the station from behind. There, in the dull light, she saw the platform and the red-bricked station house with its white awning and the rickety
bridge that straddled the tracks. Then she saw Jack. He cut a forlorn figure as he stood there alone, his heavy gaze lost in the no man’s land between reality and the brighter realm of If
Only. She was so overcome with relief her legs went weak and nearly gave way altogether. She lifted a hand to wave but, when she cried out, her voice was a breathy squeak, overwhelmed by the sudden
eruption of thumping boots that echoed off the station walls as Black and Tans swarmed onto the platform with their guns pointing at Jack. Her heart stalled. She collapsed to her knees. The large
number of men seemed excessive for the arrest of one rebel, but they clearly weren’t taking any chances: he had outsmarted them before.

She watched, helpless, as Jack dropped his bag and put his hands in the air, his expression resigned. They handled him roughly, beating him about the head, thumping him in the stomach with the
butts of their guns so that he bent double then fell to the ground. Kitty hugged her own stomach and let out a wild and desperate shriek which was lost in the whistle of the train as it steamed
into the station like a breathless dragon. She tried to see through the windows to the other side but her eyes were blinded by tears. When the train eventually moved away the platform was empty.
Jack had gone. There was no evidence that he had ever been there, except the deep crack in Kitty’s heart that would never mend.

With an ache of longing for all that was lost she ran to the castle and up the charred back staircase to the western tower where her grandmother sat reading and talking to her husband as if the
fire had never happened. She burst in, which startled Adeline, for she was unused to living people coming into her room – Bertie insisted on meeting her downstairs in the remains of the boot
room where he had set up a table so they could at least eat together, the food being brought up daily from the Hunting Lodge because Adeline refused to leave Hubert. Bertie hoped that the cold
would change her mind.