Miss Millie's Groom Page 7

  Seeing tears in the girl’s eyes, Millie sensed that it wouldn’t be long before she too began to cry. But, knowing that Rose didn’t permit displays of affection –let alone between the gentry and their staff– she hugged Effie there in the attic room and then tried fruitlessly to wipe her eyes dry as they descended the stairs.

  Chapter 11

  After an arduous week spent in the company of Rose, Millie’s life was brightened by the appearance of Doctor Richard Sutton, his aunt and uncle and his mother at Aunt Rose’s London residence.

  Millie couldn’t help but radiate in his warm and affable presence and even indulged Aunt Rose by agreeing to wear the white bridal dress that her aunt so approved of. She was a little disappointed that Richard didn’t comment on the dress and felt that, in general, whilst he was as jovial and conversational as before, he was, somehow, keeping his distance from her as the evening progressed.

  Richard’s uncle was his slightly pompous self; his mother quiet as before. It was his aunt who was the revelation to Millie. She appeared to be what Randolph would have called a bohemian – a most unlikely match for her husband. But Millie instantly warmed to her and was delighted when, upon enquiring after Effie, the eminent lady responded, not with a timid acknowledgement of the disgraced girl, but with glowing praise for her virtues. Effie was, Mrs Sutton declared, “A treasure,” adding, “Your father must feel deprived of a valuable asset to his household, Millicent.”

  Millie saw her Aunt Rose raise her eyebrows at this comment and so responded to it with hearty and enthusiastic agreement.

  “Hers is a pure soul, thoroughly untainted by modern pretensions,” Mrs Sutton went on, at which comment Aunt Rose audibly tutted her disdain.

  “Effie is a breath of fresh air,” Millie conceded and was glad to see that Richard was suppressing laughter at the exchange and the indignation it aroused in Rose – he was obviously in the know where Effie’s condition was concerned.

  Rose had had enough of this idle chit-chat. It occurred to Millie that her aunt thoroughly disliked Mrs Sutton and had much preferred the previous engagement with the distinguished family, when the lady had not been present due to a bout of influenza.

  Having ascertained that the kitchen was ready to serve dinner, Rose encouraged her guests to finish their aperitifs and make their way to the dining room. To Millie’s chagrin, this proved a shrewd move on Rose’s part, the conversation during the meal being dominated by Rose herself and Richard’s uncle. But the food was good and Millie enjoyed the opportunity to sit next to Richard and hear all about his work at the hospital. She sensed he withheld many of the less palatable details from her but she admired the care he demonstrated for his wounded patients, both officers and regular soldiers. During the course of the evening, Millie’s conviction that Richard was a thoroughly good man became even stronger.

  After dinner Mr Sutton called for a game of whist, whilst Aunt Rose stated her preference for bridge. It was a source of endless bemusement to Millie that Rose, so abstemious when it came to other forms of indulgence, was such a passionate and competitive player of cards. When Rose was in residence at Glassnest, Millie frequently found herself roped in –alongside an equally reluctant Mrs Overton– to games of bridge with Rose and her father. Furthermore, her aunt was in the business of betting money –albeit modest amounts– on the outcome of the game.

  Richard Sutton was quick to point out that, as both games proposed required only four players, he and Millie might take a turn in the garden whilst the cards got underway.

  “But, my dear, it is pitch black and freezing out there tonight,” Rose complained involuntarily, before considering the implication of the young man’s suggestion and relenting with, “But you are both young and hardy so there can be no harm in it – be sure to wear your coats!”

  And with nobody else objecting to the doctor’s scheme, Millie found herself wrapped in a heavy cloak of Rose’s, standing beside Richard, looking up at the stars, before she knew it.

  He began pointing out constellations to Millie and she had to admit, it was romantic. As he spoke, Millie could see Richard’s breath condensing in the bright moonlight.

  But as soon as the doctor was convinced, by the low hum of voices from within, that they were quite alone and would not be interrupted, he turned to face her and said, with some urgency, “I needed to speak with you in private, Millicent, upon a matter that is rather delicate.”

  “Yes?” Millie replied uneasily.

  “I don’t wish to offend you, but when my uncle reported that you appeared so eager to see me again, I became concerned that you might harbour expectations that I am unable to fulfil.”

  Millie began to feel embarrassed and was glad that Richard couldn’t possibly see her reddening cheeks in the moonlit night.

  He continued. “Believe me, Millie, if I were free I should consider you a most attractive girl but I’m not free–”

  “Please,” Millie interrupted, “I’m sorry if you’ve misunderstood me, Richard. But your fears are quite unfounded.” She was careful not to refer explicitly to what those fears might be – it was all just too humiliating.

  “I should explain,” he went on, as if eager to share with her, “that I am betrothed to a young lady called Margaret – a nurse at the hospital.”

  Millie listened attentively.

  “My family know nothing of my engagement – they cannot. Margaret is the daughter of a grocer and they would never approve the match–”

  “Can you be sure?” Millie asked. “Your aunt seems to be one of the most liberal-minded people I’ve ever met!”

  “She, perhaps, but my uncle would never agree to our marriage – and my mother will always go along with him.”

  “Doesn’t your aunt have influence over him? She seems to have won him over where Effie’s concerned–”

  “They’re childless, Millie. They couldn’t have children of their own. My aunt is over the moon at the prospect of having a baby in the house – however dubious its beginnings. And my uncle is eager to indulge her.”

  “I see,” Millie said.

  “So you needn’t worry about your little Effie, Millicent. Rest assured, her baby will want for nothing and be thoroughly spoilt by its mother’s employers.”

  Millie smiled to hear this.

  “But for me, my uncle’s overbearing interest in my career and standing has negative implications. It’s compounded by the fact that my own father died so long ago. Uncle sees me as his son and heir and is determined that I shall marry to advance the status of the family.”

  Millie recognised his situation only too well. “What will you do?” she asked softly.

  “Well, the hospital is the best means of Margaret and I being together without judgement. We met some two years ago,” he explained, “and fell instantly in love.”

  He smiled as he said it and Millie felt a pang at the unavoidable remembrance of Ryan.

  “It’s awful to say,” Richard continued, “but, in a way, the war has been good for us, enabling us to be together.”

  “Yes,” Millie agreed.

  “And I can’t really see beyond it,” Richard mused. “It seems interminable already and it’s been, what?–”

  “Barely three months,” Millie replied.

  “Yes,” he said. “But I hope to become very skilled in surgery and to then set up my own practice. Once I can be completely independent of the family money, they can’t stop me from marrying whomever I choose.”

  Millie gazed up at him, looking to the heavens, lost in his own plans. She admired his determination but couldn’t help but reflect that it was so much harder for her as a woman, deprived –as she necessarily was– of an occupation. “I wish you well, Doctor Sutton,” she said, smiling at him. Millie was pleasantly surprised that her comment recalled him from his reverie and resulted in him, not only returning her smile, but also placing an affectionate peck upon her cheek.

  “Thank you Millie,” he said, adding, “I speak to you in
complete confidence of course.”

  “Yes,” Millie said, nodding.

  “And you?” the doctor asked rather absently.

  “Oh, there’s someone,” Millie said hesitantly, “but it’s complicated.”

  A large part of her wanted desperately to share her secret with Richard. He, surely, would understand. But, for some reason, she couldn’t tell him.

  “Anyway, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted,” he said, only slightly awkwardly.

  “Yes,” Millie replied.

  “Shall we go back inside? It is perishing out here!” And he laughed.

  “Yes, let’s,” Millie said.

  * * *

  “I was pleased to see you and Richard Sutton getting along so well last night, Millicent,” Aunt Rose observed as she sat, illuminated by lamplight and engaged in embroidery, her glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose, opposite her niece.

  Millie looked up briefly from the book she was attempting to read in the near-darkness and could even smile at the comment, now she knew for certain she was safe.

  “He’s a fine young man,” Rose continued, adding, “with great prospects of a distinguished future.”

  “Yes,” Millie agreed vaguely.

  “And I’m glad you have cast aside any foolish notions you may have harboured concerning the groom, O’Flynn,” Rose said daringly.

  Millie made no reply but blushed into the pages of her book.

  “Because it could never have amounted to anything,” Rose finished, ominously.

  Millie was determined to give her no response but Rose was equally eager to pursue her theme.

  “And not for the reasons with which you are already so well-acquainted, Millicent – not only on account of his lowly station.”

  Millie frowned, her eyes still downcast.

  “But for reasons of morality and, indeed, biology,” Rose stated.

  Millie was aware of the tick of the heavy clock that sat in the centre of the mantelpiece. Aunt Rose’s house was so deadly quiet all the time. Even the servants went about their business in silence. It was one of the things that made staying here seem so awfully eternal. But, try as she might to stifle her interest in what the older woman said, Millie now found herself staring across the room at her.

  “Do not think for one moment that this business with Effie is anything new, Millicent,” Rose continued, seeming to digress, “or that I am in the least shocked by it.”

  Millie looked back down at her page.

  “If your assertions about the implication of Mr –or should I say Captain– Windham in Effie’s situation are correct, then know, Millicent, that this is merely an example of history repeating itself. As, indeed, is the incidence of this dreadful war,” she then mused, chiefly to herself.

  Millie couldn’t help but look back up at Rose and frown steadily, contemplating the earlier part of her address. The clock ticked eight times before her aunt resumed her discourse.

  “Did it never occur to you to question why Ryan O’Flynn was given that hovel on the estate and allowed to bring his grandmother over to England?”

  “The old lady was destitute as I understand it, Ryan’s father and grandfather having died.”

  “But why should Randolph have looked favourably upon Ryan, Millie? I’m sure many of the staff at Glassnest have similar sob-stories of ill-fortune and poverty in their backgrounds and I don’t see Randolph encouraging them to invite their sundry relatives to sojourn at the Hall.”

  The flippant disregard with which Rose spoke about the servants annoyed Millie. Despite that, however, she felt perplexed by what she heard.

  “And surely Mrs Overton has far greater claim on the cottage – or even the man John, who seems to have been in your father’s household forever,” Rose continued. She was becoming frustrated with her niece. “And I could go on but you seem to be missing my point, Millicent.”

  “No, I don’t understand you, Aunt,” Millie admitted quietly, shaking her head.

  “Then I will speak plainly. The groom O’Flynn is your father’s illegitimate son, Millicent. Why else would he have brought the puny child over from Ireland and then spoilt him with accommodation beyond that which he provides to other employees and indulged him with the addition of a quite useless old woman?”

  Millie was both shocked and angered by Rose’s words but her immediate –and rather incoherently delivered– retort was simply to point out that the cottage could hardly be described as luxurious.

  “Think about it, Millicent, and you will see that it all adds up,” Rose said superiorly, glad to have rattled her niece’s cage. “Your father visited that Irish estate for years. Your mother never accompanied him–”

  “Daddy brought Ryan home because he was orphaned–”

  “There are tens of orphaned boys he could have brought back from Ireland,” Rose said viciously. “He only brought back the one he felt duly responsible for.”

  “I’m going to bed, Aunt Rose,” Millie said, agitated. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock.

  “You’ve had no dinner,” Rose pointed out.

  “I’m not hungry. Excuse me,” Millie concluded, rising, leaving the room and then running up the stairs, before her tears began to spill uncontrollably.

  Chapter 12

  Millie submitted to staying with Aunt Rose until her aunt and father saw fit to let her return to Glassnest. She knew that any eagerness she showed to go home would only result in Rose preventing her from doing so for longer. As often as possible she escaped the watchful eye of Rose by roaming the city galleries and museums, a pursuit of which Rose approved, due to its educational value. But even this, Millie found, couldn’t lift her spirits; the capital itself seemed to have been shrouded in a dark veil since the outbreak of war.

  Eventually the day came when, at breakfast, Rose announced, “Your father wishes you to return home, Millicent.”

  “Very well,” Millie replied, trying to appear indifferent to her fate. But she was relieved all the same. To get back to Ryan and Kerry was all she desired, even though she knew she’d struggle to find a way of stifling her feelings for her half-brother.

  “Will you take a train this afternoon?” Rose enquired.

  “If that would be alright with you, Aunt,” Millie said.

  Rose simply nodded.

  Millie finished her breakfast as swiftly as possible, without appearing to rush, and went upstairs to pack.

  The train journey was uneventful but, as Millie neared Glassnest, she felt a yearning –an impatience– to be home that almost made her feel sick.

  She was met by John at the station, Aunt Rose having begrudgingly sent a telegram in the morning to alert the Hall to Millie’s return. It was nice to see a familiar face. As John loaded Millie’s trunk into the carriage, she informed him that, it being a fine evening, she would like to ride alongside him.

  “As you wish, young Miss,” he replied.

  “So how are things at the Hall?” Millie asked as the horses moved off from the station forecourt.

  “Much the same as when you left us, Miss,” John replied casually.

  “And how are you men doing?” Millie proceeded, knowing very well it sounded contrived.

  “As well as we can be, Miss,” John said, amused by the question.

  “And Ryan?” Millie couldn’t help but add.

  “Oh now, there’s the change, Miss Millie,” John said soberly.

  “He’s not gone?” Millie asked.

  “Him and several others–”

  “What do you mean, John?” Millie was anxious.

  “They came recruiting in the village and young O’Flynn was one of the lads who signed up–”

  “When was this?” Millie asked, alarmed at the news.

  “A few weeks back now–”

  “And you say he’s gone already?”

  “That’s right, Miss Millicent. Well, it was almost immediate. You know what a fine young figure of a man he was. I dare say they took one look at him an
d snapped him up.”

  “Yes,” Millie murmured, looking out across the bare wintry fields and feeling sick again.

  * * *

  When Millie arrived at the Hall she was met by Mrs Overton, who informed her that her father had dined early as he was busy with estate business and had now retired to his study to complete some work with which he was preoccupied. Millie was to take her evening meal alone.

  Much to the housekeeper’s annoyance, Millie insisted on greeting her father before she dined and she burst into Randolph’s study as soon as she had removed her coat.

  “Ah, Millicent, my dear,” Randolph said, looking up from his pile of papers. He worked in lamplight and his eyes looked strained already.

  “How could you?” Millie blurted, finding it hard to hold back her tears.

  “I’m sorry darling?” Randolph asked, confused.

  “How could you let Ryan go like that?” Millie said, thinking but not saying, ‘Your only son.’

  “Millicent, Ryan is a grown man. He felt it was his duty to offer his services for king and country. It wasn’t for me to stand in his way.”

  “I don’t believe you. You must have forced him–”

  “Millicent, your talk is wild. You obviously need to rest. I had instructed Mrs Overton to give you dinner–”

  “I just can’t believe you could do that, Father,” Millie said before pausing and then adding, “I don’t suppose you even know where he is – you don’t care–”

  “He wrote en route to the Continent,” Randolph replied calmly. “That’s the latest we’ve heard from him. Mrs Overton has the letter.”