Tyringham Park (19 page)

Waldron informed Charlotte that the family was to vacate Tyringham Park and move immediately and permanently to their house in Dublin. It was Edwina’s wish and he could see the sense of
it. She would never walk, let alone ride again, and needed to be near medical help, so Dublin – and later, perhaps, London – would be more suitable considering the condition she was in.
Living in the depths of the countryside would not be practical.

The implications of what her father was saying didn’t register with Charlotte, whose relief at not being blamed for anything overrode other considerations for the moment.

“Your Uncle Charles would like to rent the Park until Harcourt comes of age, so we will all be able to return here to hunt whenever we wish. I shall travel back to India and stay there
until my retirement. Your mother’s sister, your Aunt Verity Blackshaw, will live with you on a permanent basis, so you will be in good hands. No servant will transfer to Dublin except Holly,
who will be needed to look after Harcourt.”

“What about Miss East?”

“Miss East? Didn’t you know? Lily East has given long-term notice.” Waldron was concentrating on one of his military drawings while he was speaking. “She doesn’t
want her staff to know yet, so we’re keeping it confidential until June.” He slapped his head in an exaggerated gesture. “Now that I remember, she doesn’t want you to know
until then, either, so you’d better not let on to her that I told you. Damn. That slipped my mind. Can’t be helped. After that date she won’t be working for the family any more.
Hard to imagine the place running without her, after all these years. She is going to marry that Sid chap and look after his motherless daughter. She wouldn’t be needed anyway as your Aunt
Verity will be in charge until your mother leaves hospital. Not that any of that should concern you. You’ll be back at school shortly.” He signed the drawing and swivelled his chair
around to face her. “Is all that clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

“At least you’re speaking again. Will have to think about getting you another hunter. Run along, now.”

Waldron was pleased with his interview. Edwina had told him to inform Charlotte of their changed circumstances and not to leave it to Miss East, and he had done as he was asked. He always had a
strong wish to please her in the weeks before he quit the country and her company.

One thing he was not pleased about was being forced to keep on Manus as stable manager. Beatrice had had a quiet word the day after the hunt, threatening to spread the detailed story, if Manus
was removed, of how a crack shot in His Majesty’s service had missed a wounded, stationary horse from four paces and how an underling with no military training at all had to come forward to
finish the task.

Charlotte, with her arms full of clothes and picture books, flashed Miss East a look of hatred and walked past her out the door of the bedroom they still shared.

What had Lord Waldron said to her to make her act in this way? Miss East wondered with concern, calling out to the child to wait for her.

Charlotte didn’t answer, continuing with determined strides along the corridor. Miss East followed. Charlotte walked faster. Miss East caught up and put her hand on Charlotte’s
shoulder. Charlotte shook off the hand with a violent twist of her body and didn’t pause or look back.

“What’s the matter, Charlotte dear? You must tell me so I can make it better.”

Charlotte continued on until she reached the door of the new nursery, where she dumped her armful onto the floor before knocking. When no one answered immediately, Charlotte looked back to see
Miss East advancing, opened the door herself, slammed it closed behind her, and turned the key from the inside. Miss East, helpless, deflated, worried, stood outside and listened. Charlotte’s
voice was loud and tearful, Holly’s soft and coaxing.

After the exchanges died down, Miss East, heartsick, tapped on the door and called Holly’s name.

“Don’t let her in!” Charlotte’s voice shrieked, loud enough for Miss East to hear.

Five minutes of argument back and forth ensued, before the door opened and Holly slipped out. She motioned to Miss East to move further down the corridor where they could speak without being
overheard.

“I’ll have to be quick,” Holly said. “I’ve left Charlotte in charge of Harcourt and she’s not used to it. The news isn’t good. Did you know the family
is to move to Dublin permanently and Lord Waldron’s brother is taking over the Park?”

“No, I didn’t.” She was relieved the news wasn’t worse. “That’s devastating for Charlotte, but how has that made her turn against me? It’s not as if I
had anything to do with it.”

“She said you won’t be going to Dublin to look after her because you want to look after Sid’s daughter instead. I’m sorry, Miss East, but she says she doesn’t want
to see you again and wants to stay with me instead.”

“Lord Waldron shouldn’t have said anything about giving notice. I told him in confidence. I wanted to tell her myself about marrying Sid. It was a shame she had to hear all that bad
news at once. No wonder the poor little thing has taken it so hard.” Miss East’s voice shook and she paused until she was able to continue. “She probably thinks it’s all her
fault. She takes things so much to heart and blames herself for everything that goes wrong. If only I could explain it to her.”

“I don’t think she’s in any fit state to listen at the moment. Leave her with me for a while and I’ll see if I can talk her around.”

As a farewell gift to Charlotte, Miss East had spent some of her savings on a gold brooch with a glass-hinged front. Behind the glass she’d placed a piece of shamrock and
a four-leafed clover, pressed and dried, that the two of them had found on one of their many companionable walks around the estate. She remembered how happy they had been then, and how Charlotte in
her innocence had kept asking over and over if she could she stay with her for ever and ever. Charlotte and Harcourt, with Holly the nanny, were ready to be driven to the station. Their luggage had
been sent on ahead. Miss East stood waiting and when she heard Sid’s boots on the gravel thought it was the sound of her heart breaking as she looked at Charlotte who had still not spoken to
her despite many overtures.

At the last minute, Miss East leaned in with the brooch, folded Charlotte’s limp fingers over it and said, “This will bring you luck and remind you I’ll never forget my darling
girl. I’ll be counting every day until you come down for the summer.”

Charlotte stared at the brooch, registered what it contained, looked at Miss East and then flung the brooch at her, cutting her cheek, shouting, “
I don’t want it!
”

Holly jumped with shock and Harcourt started to cry.

Sid flew out of the driver’s seat, opened Charlotte’s door, and pulled her out by the arm.

“Pick up the brooch,” said Sid.

Charlotte paused for only a moment before picking it up.

“Say you’re sorry,” he said. “Do you see what you done?”

Miss East, ignoring the blood on her face, was saying don’t fuss about it, she didn’t mean it, she’s upset at leaving, she wants to stay, she’s not herself.

Sid ignored her. “Say you’re sorry.”

Charlotte was trembling. She kept her head down and didn’t speak.

“Did you hear what I said?” asked Sid.

Charlotte didn’t move.

Miss East placed herself between the two and gestured to Sid to desist.

“There’s no need to say anything. I know you feel sorry but you’re not able to say it,” she said to Charlotte, putting her arm around her.

Charlotte roughly shrugged off the arm.

“I’m not sorry,” she mumbled.

Miss East looked pleadingly at Sid not to comment. The three stood waiting until the silence became uncomfortable. Sid was the first to give in as he couldn’t bear the look of sorrow on
his Lily’s face.

“Say ‘thank you’ anyway,” said Sid in a bitter tone. “After all she done for you. And we don’t want to miss the train.”

“Thank you,” said Charlotte.

Sid looked at Miss East who nodded.

“Now come on then, back in and we’re off,” he said. “That will have to do, then.”

“Good luck at school.” Miss East held out her arms but Charlotte ignored them and took her seat, turning her head away. Sid closed the door and took his place. As they drove away
Miss East saw, from out of Charlotte’s window, an arm with a closed hand appear and hang down along the outside of the door. Slowly the fingers opened and the brooch, turning and shining in
the light, dropped without a sound into the mud along the edge of the gravel driveway.

Dublin
1919

Five weeks after the accident, two faces, vivid and unchanged, troubled Edwina if her sleeping draught wore off and she woke in the darkness of the early hours.

The first was Charlotte’s at the moment she was told to swap Mandrake for Sandstorm, disbelief and fear replacing her confident expression in a second, and then later the look of panic
when she realised she couldn’t prevent Sandstorm from jumping in front of Mandrake and clipping his forelegs.

The second was Manus’s, bent over her after the fall, his concern barely concealing his disgust, knowing that the horse with the broken leg should not have been Mandrake, and drawing his
own conclusions. She knew he hadn’t been there and hadn’t seen her, but the false memory stayed with her, as clear as a photograph.

She had seen and felt nothing more for a week. After she woke to find herself in a Dublin hospital, transferred from Cork, and grasped the implications of the extent of her injuries, she wished
she hadn’t woken then or ever. Only thirty-one years of age and her life over.

No more hunting. What was life without hunting? And no going to Australia to find Victoria. Old Beatrice couldn’t go on her own, and who else was there to send? Verity had never seen
Teresa, Dixon or Victoria, so she was no use, not that she would be much use anyway. There was no one else. It was all so infuriatingly exasperating.

Every night now, instead of waking with relief from constant nightmares of falling, she found reality worse than her dreams.

How did the hunting crowd construe the accident? What had Charlotte said? Had Les told Manus about her training methods? What plausible reason could she give for making Charlotte ride
Sandstorm?

Waldron came in. There was lots of news, some recent, some repeated from the day before and some from the day before that. Edwina couldn’t turn her head. She lay like a corpse while he
spoke to the side of her impassive face.

His brother Charles wanted him down at the Park for one last hunt before Waldron returned to India. Brigadier was in fine fettle. Charles was having trouble with Sandstorm – couldn’t
believe Charlotte had stayed in the saddle for an entire hunt on such a creature.

Edwina’s surgeon was pleased with her progress. She’d be up and about before she knew it. In a chair, needless to say – he didn’t work miracles.

Charles had invited Charlotte to the Park for the length of the summer vacation so that she wouldn’t lose her touch. Beatrice and Bertie kept singing her praises so often he wanted to see
her expertise for himself.

Charlotte had been accompanied home from her Ladies’ College the previous day. Expelled for violent conduct. None of the pupils, including Charlotte, was throwing any light on the matter,
so the authorities didn’t know what had prompted Charlotte to cause the hospitalisation of one of the exemplary senior girls, but such unacceptable behaviour couldn’t be tolerated under
any circumstances.

Edwina showed as little reaction to this fact as she had to any of the others.

Vetchworth School beside the Dublin Mountains had now agreed to take Charlotte, due to Waldron’s influence and their understanding of the tragic family situation.

“I will be delivering her personally next week after Verity has organised the uniform,” he said as if expecting praise for undertaking such a duty. “Oh, yes. Almost
forgot,” he said. “Got an answer from that artist chap who didn’t finish your hand.”

Edwina held her breath.

“No luck, I’m afraid. Taking no more commissions for the foreseeable future. Suggests we find someone else. Sounds as if he’s got too big for his boots, if you ask
me.”

Edwina drew in two breaths before she could trust herself to speak. “Did you mention my unfinished portrait when you wrote?”

“Of course I did. I even proposed that he should finish it as part of the commission.”

Edwina had to restrain herself from pronouncing aloud that he couldn’t expect a favourable reply with a suggestion like that, and what business was it of his to mention it in the first
place? Her father was the only one who had that right, even though he hadn’t paid for it, seeing he was the one who had commissioned it. She managed to ask in a mild tone. “Did he refer
to it in his reply?”

“Not a word, but then what would you expect from a man too successful to accept a prestigious commission? It’s not everyone who has the opportunity to paint a Blackshaw. I suppose
I’m meant to be grateful that he bothered to answer my letter. Not that he did it personally, I might add. He got some underling to write for him.”

“Anything else?”

“Beatrice has asked if she can stay over at the townhouse for the night as she wants to have a chat, mainly about Charlotte.”

Edwina tried to look unconcerned.

“Women will be allowed to compete in the Horse Show next year, according to Beatrice,” Waldron continued. “Pity it’s come too late for you, old thing.”

He was meeting someone for lunch in Kildare Street so he’d better head off.

“Probably run into Beatrice on the way out if I don’t see her first and get time to duck.” He bent over and made a pecking sound six inches from her face. “Chin up, old
girl.”

Edwina was relieved to see the back of him. As hurtful as Dirk’s reply sounded, she wanted to replay it in her mind in case there was a hidden message to her from him. She had followed his
career in
Village and County
, which every now and then mentioned aristocrats whose portraits he had painted, and inevitably referred to him as ‘
a worthy successor to John Singer
Sargent
’ whose work Edwina didn’t know. Occasionally there had been mention of an Irish peer and she had become agitated to think Dirk might be nearby; even passing along the street
in front of the townhouse. If there was no hidden message in his reply to Waldron, and if the meaning was as unequivocally dismissive as it sounded, she need never think that again as, now that he
had been supplied with her address, he could make sure that he never passed anywhere near the vicinity of the townhouse when he was in Dublin.