Secrets of the Lighthouse (21 page)

Ellen lay in bed and struggled to control her thoughts. She didn’t want to think of William, but he kept surfacing like a stubborn cork in the choppy ocean of her mind.
There he was, in his beautifully cut Savile Row suit, with his blond hair pushed off his forehead, and his brown eyes questioning and indignant. He was young and fresh with skin that barely needed
shaving and hands that were naturally soft and manicured because he had never done anything other than work in the City. His laughter was light and carefree because he had never had a single worry
besides the odd invitation that hadn’t arrived or an important item of clothing that had gone missing at the dry-cleaner’s. He was pampered and privileged and in contrast to Conor, his
good looks seemed shallow and too easily won.

It was easy to see why she had been attracted to William. He was charming and nice, but she had also subconsciously known he was ‘right’ for her in the eyes of her parents and
friends. They were a natural match, like a pair of well-bred dogs, designed to mate. The life predicted for them ran along the same tracks as the one she had lived so far: comfortable, safe and
unsurprising, like the first-class carriage of a well-oiled train. But Ellen didn’t want that any more; she just didn’t know how to tell William. Running away had seemed much easier
than facing her change of heart. And yet, what if this small mutiny was a phase, as her mother would no doubt say? Pre-wedding nerves? What if her attraction to Conor was simply because he was the
opposite to William? What if this adventure would run its course and in the end she’d return to London and that well-oiled train, full of repentance and regret? What if William found someone
else in her absence and she was left to spend the rest of her days like Dylan, pining for her lost love?

But in the morning, when the pale light of dawn tumbled in through the gaps in the curtains, she felt nothing but excitement for the coming day. She stood by the window and watched the
lighthouse rise up out of the mist like a new shoot emerging through the wintry earth. William had sunk to the bottom of her thoughts and all she had room for was Conor.

Ellen drove beneath the avenue of ancient oaks on her way to Reedmace House, praying that Johnny and Joe wouldn’t see her car. There was every chance that they were
there, and as far as she knew, the only way to Conor’s house was through the park. So it was with some trepidation that she motored past the castle, where Johnny’s truck was parked in
its usual place. There was no chance of the two of them slacking off work while their boss was in residence, and as luck would have it they were nowhere to be seen and Ellen was able to drive
around without being spotted.

The mist had dissolved, leaving a pale-blue sky and radiant sunshine. She rolled down the window to hear the merry twittering of birds and the sporadic hooting of a woodpecker in the trees.
Clusters of snowdrops glistened on the banks and the grass shone a vibrant green. Soon the blossom would be out and the estate would burst into wondrous colour. She inhaled deeply and smelt the
earthy scent of spring.

As she pulled up outside the house, she rather regretted having ruined her coat and boots, for Peg’s attire was not very appealing. At least her well-cut jeans and blue V-neck sweater were
her own. She snatched a final glance in the rear-view mirror before stepping out onto the gravel. Her heart began to thump wildly as she approached the door. William had never sent her nerves into
such a state of excitement. She didn’t have time to knock and gather herself because it opened at once and Conor appeared with Magnum at his side.

‘Well, good morning,’ he said, and his smile was full of affection.

‘Good morning,’ she replied shyly, trying without success to suppress her nervousness. He stepped forward, put an arm around her waist and kissed her on the lips, thus defusing any
awkwardness. She laughed through her nose. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Now, do you want something to drink before we go?’

‘No, I’ve just had breakfast.’

‘Right. Let’s head off, then.’ He let Magnum out then closed the door behind him. She followed him round to the stable block at the back of the house where he opened the boot
of his Range Rover and let the dog in. ‘Magnum hates to be left behind,’ he told her. ‘And he doesn’t mind being a gooseberry. He’s also incredibly
discreet.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. I’m afraid I have the entire Byrne family on my case at the moment.’

‘That’s no surprise.’ He opened the door for her and she climbed in. ‘You’re lucky you have so many people who care about you.’

They set off, but this time Conor turned left out of the driveway and drove down a mile or so of farm track, joining the country lane via an inconspicuous entrance at the bottom of the hill.
‘Just to be on the safe side,’ he said with a grin. ‘I don’t want to ruin your reputation.’

‘I’m not sure I have one yet.’

‘All the more reason, then.’ He accelerated down the lane. ‘So, was your aunt suspicious?’

‘I think she had such a nice time chatting to your mother that she didn’t notice us.’

‘That’s good. Mother is very short on company down here. She loved letting her hair down with Peg.’

‘I have to tell you, Conor, that this is the first time I have met my mother’s family.’

He didn’t seem very surprised. ‘Well, I hadn’t ever heard your name mentioned before and I know most people in Ballymaldoon.’

‘The truth is that my mother, Peg’s sister, ran away with my father and never came back. I’m hiding out here because I know it’s the one place my mother won’t look
for me.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah, so you’ve run away from home, have you?’

‘Well, I’m too old to run away, but I haven’t told anyone where I’ve gone. If you knew my mother, you’d understand why. I just need time without my family bearing
down on me. You know my parents met in your castle, before you bought it. Of course, Mother never told me. Peg did. I think Mum’s embarrassed by her working-class roots; she’s a
terrible snob.’

‘They’re nothing to be ashamed of. The Byrne family are good people.’

‘I know. I feel rather let down, actually. All this time, I’ve had a wonderful family over here that I never knew existed.’

‘She must have had good reason to cut ties.’

‘Is marrying an English Protestant a good enough reason, do you think?’

‘If her mother was a very devout Catholic, perhaps.’

Ellen crinkled her nose. ‘It just seems a bit drastic to me, to run away from your mother and siblings and never return, all because you fell in love with the wrong man.’

‘I’d say that you only know the half of it. Nothing is ever simple.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, tell me, what’s your family in England like?’

Ellen told him about Leonora and Lavinia, and her descriptions of their superficial lives and her ruthless imitations made him roar with laughter. ‘They’re like my father,’ she
said. ‘Fair with flawless skin, big blue eyes and long legs. They’re so similar it’s hard to tell them apart, although there are two years between them. I’m the black sheep
of the family. Dark and troubled – the more I learn about my mother the more I realize that I am probably something like her. And that’s not an easy admission. I find my mother
intolerable!’

‘You’ll feel happier when you break the mould and start being yourself. It sounds to me as if you’re struggling against your mother’s ambitions. She should relax and let
you make your own way.’

‘She wants me to marry a duke at the very least.’

‘She sounds like Mrs Bennet.’

‘I know, that sort of attitude seems so old-fashioned, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh, it’s alive and kicking all right. There’ll always be aspirational people climbing up the social ladder, leaping to the top with a good marriage. I don’t suppose
she’s thought for a minute what sort of man
you
want. What does your father think about it?’

‘I’m sure he’d be happy with whoever I married as long as I’m happy, but deep down, he’d prefer me to marry a man like him, of course: Eton-educated, good at sport,
rich and well-connected.’ She paused a moment, reflecting on her parents’ marriage. It was a miracle that it had worked, considering the very different worlds they came from. ‘You
know, I think my mother has tried so hard for so long to fit into Dad’s world that she has lost sight of the important things in life. As I was growing up, all she cared about was
appearances. That I looked right and said the right things and was invited to the right parties. She forced me to attend the debutante balls even though the debutante thing was way out of date and
no longer glamorous. She was desperate to find me a suitable husband – but all the boys were chinless and gauche, especially the aristocratic ones! All interbred, I’m afraid.’ She
sighed and shook her head in mock despair. ‘I mean, really, what was she thinking? I shouldn’t laugh, though, she hasn’t given up yet!’ She began to imitate her mother
ruthlessly. She had always been an excellent mimic.

‘You’re a funny girl, Ellen,’ he said, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘You should have been an actress.’

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she retorted dryly.

‘I don’t, actually. But I wouldn’t recommend it, even to someone as talented as you. You’re better off behind the camera, writing stories.’

‘I have never wanted to be an actress.’

‘Always a writer?’

‘I like words and I like to express myself that way. But I’m not sure I’m very good at it. I’m feeling my way, just trying to find how best to channel my
creativity.’ She laughed. ‘I hope I’m not deluding myself, and that I do have
some
creativity!’

‘Of course you do, otherwise you wouldn’t even be considering it. So, if you weren’t a writer, what would you be?’

‘I don’t know. At the risk of sounding like a self-help book, I’m very confused about
who
I want to be right now.’ She gazed out of the window at the green
velvet fields and grey stone walls and said the first thing that came into her head. ‘A gardener, perhaps.’

‘A gardener?’ He was surprised.

‘Yes, my mother would
hate
me to be a gardener! She’d like me to be a grand lady who lunches and sits on charity committees like her. But I think I’d like to plant
things and watch them grow. I know nothing about gardening, and didn’t realize until I arrived here that I liked nature so much. But yes, I think gardening would make me very happy.’
She turned to him and smiled. ‘Do you think there’s something magical about Connemara?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, smiling back. ‘But only if you’re willing to be enchanted.’

After a short drive, Conor parked in a lay-by on the crest of a hill. ‘Right, now for some serious castle-creeping,’ he announced, switching off the engine.

‘I’m surprised you like castle-creeping when you have a castle of your own.’

‘It’s not the same, you’ll see. This one’s a total ruin. You’re going to love it.’ They both climbed out and Conor walked round to the boot to let Magnum out.
The dog bounded down in a rush of excitement and cocked his leg against the wheel of the car. Conor opened the gate then took her by the hand and led her down the field.

There, on the cliff overlooking the ocean, were the stony remains of a once magnificent castle. Hollow towers and crumbling walls were all that was left of a mighty fortress, protecting the land
from invasion by sea. The wind whipped through the empty windows and whistled around the redundant ramparts where once soldiers had kept watch for the enemy and ladies in rich velvet dresses had
looked out for trade ships bringing silks and spices from foreign lands.

‘Ireland is full of ruins,’ said Conor, as they approached.

Ellen wanted to bring up the ruin that fascinated her the most every morning on waking, but she knew instinctively that Caitlin was unmentionable. ‘Ireland’s a very romantic
country,’ she said instead.

He smiled down at her and gripped her hand tighter. ‘I like you, Ellen Byrne.’

‘I’m Ellen
Trawton
.’

‘So you are. Well, I like you whatever you’re called. You’re like a ray of sunshine.’

Ellen smiled at him quizzically. ‘You know my name means “bright light” in Greek?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘Greek was never my strong subject at school. But did you ever see the movie
The Age of Innocence
with Daniel Day-Lewis and Michelle
Pfeiffer?’

‘The infamous Ellen Olenska,’ she said, repeating what Dylan had already told her.

‘That was a tremendous film.’

‘I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t seen it. Nor have I read the book.’

He looked pleased. ‘Then I’ll get the DVD and we’ll watch it together. I think you’ll like the Countess, your namesake. She’s a wonderful character – very
mysterious, rather manipulative, I think, but utterly compelling. It’s a beautiful and sad love story.’

They reached the ruins and began to wander around. Magnum sniffed the ground, following the scent of fox. There was no one else there besides them and the dog. The castle was hidden from the
road and those who knew of it didn’t bother to look at a pile of old stones. Ellen’s stomach began to tingle with nerves as she anticipated him kissing her again. ‘I think this
would have been the sitting room,’ she announced, letting go of his hand and jumping playfully over a knee-high wall into a large, grassy square where the remains of a chimney could be seen
against the outside wall.

‘You think?’ he questioned, following her.

‘Oh, yes, I can imagine them all sitting around drinking wine, can’t you?’

He laughed. ‘Or it could have been the kitchen. Can’t you just see a big, fat cook roasting a pig on a spit?’

‘No, it’s much too elegant to have been a kitchen.’ She hopped over another wall into a smaller room where a big arched window looked out over the sea. ‘This might have
been a library. What do you think?’

He put his hands on his hips and frowned. ‘Or a study.’

‘Yes, it might have been a study. Perhaps it was a smaller sitting room. You know how grand houses always have so many sitting rooms?’ She looked out of the hole where the window
used to be. ‘I wonder who gazed out of here. A young maiden in love with a sailor, perhaps, waiting for him to return across the sea?’ When she turned around, Conor was standing right
behind her.