Dorothy Eden (38 page)

She had to pore over the long report that took up far too much space and relegated to the back pages of the newspaper news of far more vital interest to the nation.

Her face flushed with anger and shame as she read evidence given by servants, Jane Leinster, and that sly Miss Glennister, who both identified Charles from a photograph, said he was often at the house, and sometimes the door of the sitting room was locked; Esther Harvey, the housekeeper at the house in Regent’s Park, who said that Mrs. O’Shea often came to visit the gentleman who lived there; Samuel Drury, the cab driver who frequently drove Mr. Parnell down to Eltham at night; that infamous pair at Medina Terrace, Brighton, Harriet Bull who testified that she had seen the respondent and co-respondent coming out of a bedroom together, and Mrs. Pethers who said that often Mrs. O’Shea came in late at night, her hair all flying, she didn’t look respectable, and there was that queer episode when Captain O’Shea arrived unexpectedly, and Mr. Parnell hurriedly left the house by the fire-escape. Even dear old Partridge, the coachman, was brought in to say reluctantly that he had looked after the horses, Dictator, President and Home Rule, that Mr. Parnell had brought over from Ireland, and that he often took the brougham to the railway station to meet Mr. Parnell late at night.

As for Willie, he had turned himself into a model of injured innocence.

How he must have glowed with relief when Mr. Lockwood Q.C. stood up to say, “I appear with my learned friend Mr. Pritchard for Mrs. O’Shea, the respondent in the case, and I desire to take this opportunity of stating on her behalf that I do not intend to cross-examine any witnesses, to call any witnesses nor to take any part in these proceedings.”

This did not, however, prevent Sir Edward Clarke from putting his client in the witness-box and extracting his damning evidence of the shameless infidelity of his wife.

It was his wife’s wish, and the wish of her aged aunt, Captain O’Shea said, that he lived at Albert Mansions while she lived at Wonersh Lodge. But he visited her frequently, and their relations were always amicable. It was not until the Galway election that he began to hear the rumours about his wife and Parnell. Since then he had written to her frequently, and entreated her on many occasions to give up the friendship. There were many letters as exhibits to prove this, including one written by his son Gerard stating in schoolboy fashion that he would thrash Mr. Parnell if his father wished him to. He had advised his wife to consult Mr. Pym, her solicitor, and this she had done. There was another of those damning letters to prove this.

But she hadn’t kept her promise to break with the co-respondent, even after the damaging publicity of the article in the
Pall Mall Gazette
about Mr. Parnell’s slight accident on his way to Wonersh Lodge.

The hearing lasted for two days. At the end of the first day Katharine could not bear inactivity any longer. She put on a cloak and went out, intending to walk along the sea-front until she was physically tired. The wind would blow away her nightmares. She would begin to think of the happy future rather than letting her mind dwell constantly on the unseen courtroom in London, on Willie committing perjury with every word he said, his face bearing its familiar look of righteousness and injury.

What irremediable harm was being done to Charles in that courtroom? She must shake off her unhappy prescience of troubles ahead and return to him with a calm face. Already, the bracing air and her quick purposeful walk was clearing her head.

But she had not thought to wear a veil. That had been a mistake. For, although there were few people about on this cold stormy day, she was recognised. A young lout lounging on the seawall pointed a finger, his face lighting with evil glee.

“There she is herself. There’s Kitty O’Shea!”

Two women passing stopped to stare. “Fancy showing herself!” Their voices were loud, intending to be heard.

The youth had two companions. The three of them began to walk behind Katharine as she quickened her step. Above the wind and the crash of the waves she could hear their mocking footsteps, their coarse adolescent laughter.

It should not have worried her. They were young, idle, ignorant. They would learn better one day. She would not allow them to drive her off the front. She continued to walk quickly, with dignity, hoping they would tire of their silly game. When they did not, her exacerbated nerves made her whirl round to face them. She cried out, “You are molesting me! Pray stop.”

She had an impression of wind-reddened grinning faces, and then before she could pick up her skirts to pass them, one of them stooped, straightened, and the mud was flung.

It spattered her face and her cloak. She stared at it in shocked astonishment. The three youths began to laugh uproariously and although she wanted to berate them for their intolerable behaviour she saw that other passers-by had stopped to stare, that she was a spectacle with her splattered face and muddy cloak. She couldn’t face the wretched scene. She had to hurry away, trying not to run, trying to keep her dignity and hold her head high. She remembered saying once to Charles, “I have a long neck. I can hold my head high on it.”

It was easier saying than doing. And it was also unfortunate that Charles should be in the hall when she returned. She averted her face, murmuring that it was so cold, the wind had made her eyes stream. But how could she hope to escape with that excuse? He had seen her dirt-streaked cheeks.

“Kate, that isn’t tears, that’s mud.” His face became stone. “What happened?”

She had to tell him, making light of the unpleasant adventure.

“I’d like to have them whipped,” he said with quiet ferocity. “Why did you go out?”

“Am I to hide? Am I to be a prisoner?”

“You’ve tortured yourself reading that damned newspaper. Now you’re putting yourself in the way of insults. And after me keeping you out of the witness-box, sparing you all that distress.”

Then suddenly he gathered her into his arms.

“Oh, Kate, Kate, I’m not angry with you. But to see your dear face smeared with muck—” he had taken out his handkerchief and was wiping away the stains “—I’m in the mood to break a few necks, beginning with those louts.”

In spite of this exacerbation of her feelings, Katharine read
The Times
again the next day.

It was all over then.

Mr. Lockwood, in asking for a decree nisi to be made absolute in six months, also asked with complete confidence for the custody of the children under age to be given to his client.

How could they be refused to him? Clare and Katie were registered as his daughters and the Judge, whether or not he was taken in by Captain O’Shea’s air of injured innocence, had no alternative but to uphold the law. Minors were never left in the care of the guilty party, and since there was no defence, the respondent in this case admitted her guilt. As for the co-respondent, he could only describe him as “the man who takes advantage of the hospitality offered him by the husband to debauch the wife”.

Katharine walked up and down, the newspaper crushed in her clenched fists. She was talking out loud without knowing it.

“There was no fire-escape at Medina Terrace! Oh, that wicked woman! She’s invented that or someone had told her to invent it, because it makes a better story. How they’ll lampoon Charles! Mrs. Pethers knew he merely discreetly went out the back way to avoid one of Willie’s terrible rows, and it was I who made him do it.” Her eyes filled with tears of rage. “And Jane, who I trusted. And reading out Gerard’s letter, that he only wrote in innocence, poor boy. And poor Partridge.
Was
my hair flying wild like that? What do they know about it, any of them? They’ve never been in love, poor wretches.”

The door opened and Charles came in.

“Good morning, my love. Aren’t we to have any breakfast?”

“Charles, he’s even got our children, too!”

“But you have your divorce, at last.” He kissed her trembling lips gently, then with passion. “Didn’t I tell you again not to read that newspaper?”

She pulled herself away from him.

“Don’t you
care
about Clare and Katie? How can Willie possibly have them? He knows they’re not his.”

“Then he won’t have them. That’s just a legal direction he doesn’t need to carry out.”

“But he will do it to spite me. He and Anna. Anna stood up in court declaring her innocence, and wondering how she could wound me next.”

“I always told you you made a mistake in bringing Anna into this.”

“But so did you make a mistake in dropping your defence. Have you read the leader?”

“I told you not to look at that paper.”

“Then I had better read it to you. Listen.”

She read in a slow articulate bitter voice,

“The result of the O’Shea divorce case has taken Mr. Parnell’s constituents completely by surprise. All along they were led to believe that he would be able to clear himself of the charges made against him and vindicate his moral character. The people are so deeply committed that they are reluctant to raise any cry against him, but they consider that if he had made any defence at all they would have had some excuse for sticking to him. There being now no room left for that excuse, the opinion is that he cannot much longer remain as leader …”

Phyllis knocked at the door.

“Shall I bring in the breakfast now, ma’am?”

Katharine looked at Charles’ silent form slumped in a chair by the fire.

“Yes, Phyllis. Bring the large coffee pot. We’ll want plenty of coffee this morning.”

She went to kneel beside him.

“Darling, didn’t you know this would happen if you refused to defend yourself? Didn’t you wonder what Mr. Gladstone would have to say? Or the Queen? I know the Queen is a narrow puritan but she sets the fashion. I don’t think even Mr. Gladstone would dare to take a stand against her. He might in politics, but not in morals.”

At last he lifted his head.

“A moment ago you were only worried about Clare and Katie. Now it’s Mr. Gladstone and the Queen.”

“It’s you,” she whispered, “I only get into rages because I worry about you.”

“And then you think that I ought not to match your loyalty.”

“But it’s so different for you. You have three million other people on your conscience as well as me.”

“You are not on my conscience.” He laid his hand on his breast. “You are here, in my heart. And we’ll find a way about the children. We must appeal against the Judge’s ruling. If that fails I suppose Captain O’Shea is quite likely to have one of his financial crises before long.”

“You mean—buy them back!”

“Not back, because we’ll never part with them. But we might buy his signature to a document relinquishing them. I shall sell Avondale, if necessary. Now where’s that coffee? And I hope Ellen has done some kidneys and bacon. I shall need to feel strong today. I’ll have to call a meeting of the Irish party and I’ve no doubt everyone will be in a fine spate of words. Not that they’re ever anything else.”

Katharine, pleased for the small mercy that he was ready to eat, for his lack of appetite worried her a great deal, said hopefully, “Perhaps they’ll be with you. You
are
their leader still.”

“No, they’ll be at my throat. But I’m confident I can still manage them. I certainly have no intention of resigning at this critical stage.” He sat at the breakfast table. “And what will you do today?”

Katharine looked at the grey sea, whipped by a sharp wind, remembered yesterday’s incident on the front and shivered.

“I shall stay indoors with the children. I don’t intend to let them out of my sight.”

And wait for you to come home, she added silently.

Later in the day she sent Norah out to buy all the newspapers she could.

After that came the distressing task of assessing their opinions. Not opinions, as it turned out, but one unanimous opinion.

“Retire into private life …” “Neither clergy nor laity in America would have anything more to do with him …” “His career is closed …” “Is there a man in the wide world who would now accept Mr. Parnell’s word about anything, however insignificant …”

To add to her distress, she read of taunts of “Kitty’s petticoats” and jokes about the lamentable fire-escape story. More seriously, a series of outrages had been begun in Tipperary, houses were burnt, and escaping moonlighters shot a bailiff dead. The calming voice of their leader had faltered. What were they to think? What were they to do?

Katharine rang the bell violently and when Phyllis came she thrust the papers into her arms and told her to burn them in the kitchen stove.

“Yes, ma’am. But won’t you go upstairs and rest, ma’am. The master won’t be home for a long time yet.”

The master … Phyllis had never called him that before. A small stubborn glow began within her, and would not be put out even when it had gone ten o’clock and Charles was still not home. He would come. He always did.

I
F SHE HAD REGAINED
her calm, he had lost his.

He came at last at nearly midnight, his eyes burning in his white weary face.

“We’ve got to fight, Kate,” he said, and fell into his chair by the fire, his body flat with exhaustion.

“Damn their miserable hypocritical souls,” he said with quiet intensity.

“Why does it matter to them now?” Katharine asked indignantly. “They’ve known for long enough.”

“They’re afraid of shocking Mr. Gladstone. We’re public reprobates now, and he’s a devout churchman.”

“Even Mr. Gladstone …” Katharine began, only to be interrupted by his weary, “Oh, yes, I expect he knew, too, but while there was no public scandal he could turn a blind eye.”

Katharine came to sit beside him.

“Tell me what happened today.”

“We had a meeting to elect a chairman.”

“They did re-elect you?” Katharine cried.

“Oh, yes, they did. They even cheered me. I was elected unanimously.”

“How could they not after all you have done?”

“It wasn’t I who influenced them so much as the messages coming in from Ireland. Dublin, Limerick, Clonmel, Ennis, all sent pledges of loyalty and confidence. They said they wouldn’t submit to dictation, they’d have no leader but me. And O’Brien and O’Connor in America paid me the compliment of being the greatest Parliamentary leader the Irish had ever had. Even Tim Healy made a flattering speech for me in Leinster. I have it here. Listen. ‘For Ireland and for Irishmen Mr. Parnell is less a man than an institution. We have under the shadow of his name secured a power and authority in the councils of Great Britain and the world such as we never possessed before.’”