Page 17 of The Irish Gypsy

Kitty was awakened with flowers from Sir Charles Drago, accompanied by a note that begged her to drive out with him at eleven. When she entered the breakfast room Julia accidentally broke her cup and saucer and shouted.

"Blast everything!"

Kitty spoke up quickly.

"Sit down. I'll get you another cup of coffee."

Julia shouted.

"Goddamn that man to hell!"

Kitty was at a loss.

"Do you mean your husband?"

"Yes, God rot him! I think I'm breeding again. He did it on purpose!"

A housemaid came to see what damage had been done and to clean up the mess.

"Get out! Can't you see I'm having a private conversation? Tell them in the kitchen to stop cooking that bacon immediately. The smell permeates the whole house and makes me feel sick!"

The maid had barely closed the door when Julia continued with her tirade.

"I told Jeffrey I wasn't having any more for at least two years. I'm so damned careful! When he demands to sleep with me I absolutely insist he withdraw."

"Withdraw?"

Kitty asked, startled.

"You don't mean withdraw before....before...."

"A fat lot of good it would do after!"

shouted Julia.

"Oh, but surely that would be distasteful to you both, and besides, you would miss all the...."

"Pleasure?"

asked Julia sarcastically.

Kitty blushed.

"For me it was an indescribable joy."

"Then how in the name of God have you escaped getting caught? It only takes once!"

"Once?"

echoed Kitty.

"Don't be so bloody obtuse! Whatever method have you been using?"

Julia asked curiously.

Kitty was stunned for a moment.

"I have to confess I never thought once about becoming pregnant.

I'm ashamed of my ignorance,"

she added.

"That's how men like to keep us. Selfish to the core. They take their pleasure where they find it, then go off merrily about their own pursuits and we are left to bear the fruit!"

A cold hand gripped Kitty's heart. A wave of dizziness swept over her as she thought of the classic case of the unwed Irish servant girl in trouble by the master. Now that she thought of it, the smell of bacon cooking did definitely produce the symptoms of morning sickness! She fervently wished that she was not going to have a child, but deep down inside she felt such a strong premonition, she feared she was caught.

She excused herself and went upstairs, where she could be alone to think. It had been six weeks since she had last had her menses. How could I have overlooked something so important? she wondered with amazement. She pushed the thought away at once and sought out Barbara.

"I hate black, Barbara. Lend me a pretty dress, will you? His Grace has invited me out for a drive. Tell me what he's like."

"Oh, he's a darling man. He and Patrick are great friends. His wife has been dead for years, so I never met her. I saw a great deal of him when I was a little girl, but he's lived in the tropics the past few years. He's enormously rich, owns lots of houses here in London, and estates all over England and Ireland. He'd be a wonderful catch if he weren't so old,"

Barbara said ingenuously.

Kitty thought privately that he was a very comfortable age; a man you could lean on. She knew she shouldn't consider going driving with a gentleman while she was in mourning, and under no circumstances should she go unchaperoned, but she didn't give a damn for the conventions and knew she never would.

Charles was surprised to see her appear so quickly. His eyes smiled down into hers as he said.

"Kathleen, I know this is a sad time for you, but let's try to be happy today?"

"Please let's be comfortable with each other. If I have to keep saying 'your Grace this' and 'your Grace that' the conversation will be so stilted I couldn't bear it. I have a confession to make: I'm not a lady of quality, and I'm absolutely penniless. Now, I can put on airs and graces, but not with you, Charles! Can we be friends?"

He leaned over and kissed her soundly.

Her eyes widened.

"Is that what you've been wanting to do ever since we met?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"My God, all men are alike!"

she said and laughed.

"But not all women, thank the Lord. You are unique! There is one kind of woman frightens me to death. Deliver me from society's debutantes. I should know--I was married to one,"

he said dryly.

They came to a large estate, but the house seemed to have been closed for the season, and the knockers had been removed from the doors. The park stretched out before them with magnificent shade trees, flowering shrubs, arbors, fish ponds and miniature bridges. Beyond the park, the lawns swept down to the river.

"Belongs to a friend of mine who's out of the country,"

he explained.

Kitty knew instinctively it was his.

"It's so green it reminds me of home,"

she said with a little sigh. She turned to him eagerly.

"How is it in Ireland now?"

"Well, it's a bit better. I think they'll have crops this year, but things still are bad,"

he said sadly.

She took his arm.

"I'm still homesick for it, though."

"Homesick? Lass, you don't know the meaning of the word. There have been times in the tropics when the heat dances and shimmers off everything and the hours of sunshine seem to go on and on until you think darkness never will fall. I've often looked about me at the jungle's gaudiness and thought nature must have gone mad in that part of the world. Just the effort of thinking makes your clothes damp with sweat and your throat always feels parched for just one more rum punch. It's times like that Ireland beckons. For just one hour of its softness a man would trade away his very soul."

"Tell me, Charles, is it frightening out on the Atlantic?"

"I can't lie to you, lass. There are times when it can be frightening if you meet up with a gale, but if you avoid sailing during the bad-weather months, why, it's like having a holiday, it's so pleasant."

"How much does it cost?"

she asked curiously.

"Well, that depends on where you are going,"

he said and smiled.

"Say I was sailing from Liverpool to America,"

she said, pretending to pick a place at random.

"Passage shouldn't cost more than fifty pounds. Of course, if you wanted a private cabin, it would cost more."

"Can a woman book a passage on her own? I mean, would a ship take her without a man?"

"Some would,"

he conceded.

Kitty decided to change the subject before he became suspicious.

"Has anyone ever told you that you resemble King Charles II?"

He threw back his head and laughed.

"Many times! Me and my father before me,"

he said and winked.

"I think it likely there's Stuart blood in us--wrong side of the blanket, of course."

Kitty laughed at his aside and he said.

"That's the sort of remark I shouldn't be able to make if you were one of these Victorian females who shock easily."

She tossed her head and said.

"'Tis all hypocrisy, anyway. At every social function in London the women compete with each other to see how much of their breasts they can reveal, yet a glimpse of ankle and their reputations would be gone; they'd be fallen women!"

"To show your ankles is to invite seduction."

His eyes twinkled.

She sighed.

"If you hadn't said that, I would have taken off my shoes and stockings and gone wading."

He felt a pang of regret at her words, yet he didn't even know if she was being serious or just teasing. They came to a fallen log and Kitty sat down on it and patted the place beside her. He was sitting so close to her, he could smell the subtle fragrance of her skin. Once again he felt a tightness in his loins that he knew was more than mere imagination. He looked down at her and said.

"You haven't the faintest idea how exciting you are to a man."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes widened.

"I can't tell you without using blunt, explicit language,"

he smiled.

"Tell me,"

she urged.

"You are so young, almost still a child, yet you have had experience in the marriage bed. That's a very exciting combination."

Immediately, she wished she hadn't pressed him to tell her.

"Well, I asked for that one, but now I shall return to conventional behavior. It's time I returned home, your Grace."

"I've offended you, Kathleen, and I'm sorry. I'll take you home immediately, but you will come driving with me again, won't you?"

She hesitated.

"I've only got a week, Kathleen. Say you will come?"

She relented.

"I've enjoyed it as much as you; perhaps more,"

she said and laughed.

"I doubt that, lass," he said.

When Kitty returned to the house, Julia almost dragged Kitty up to the privacy of her bedroom and began asking questions as soon as the door was closed.

"Kitty, you must help me! Who else can I turn to? How can I get rid of this child I'm carrying?"

Kitty was confused. If Patrick had known Julia was thinking of such a course, he would have slapped her silly. If her husband, Jeffrey, knew, he would be incensed. However, Kitty felt it was wrong for a man to impregnate a woman when she didn't want a child.

"Julia, I don't know very much about it. I do know that in Bolton the mill women jump off the kitchen table or even deliberately fall down the stairs, but in spite of it, most babies stick, no matter how they try to shake them loose. I knew of an old woman who used to perform some obscene operation with a crochet hook, but a lot of girls died from it,"

Kitty said sadly.

"I know there is something you can buy. It's very expensive, but I have lots of money. Kitty, I need to know the name of it and where it's available. Help me, Kitty!"

"I promise I'll try to find out for you."

She watched all evening for her brother.

"Terry, I have some questions, and I'm wondering if you know the answers."

"I'll try my best, sweet,"

he answered affably.

"I want to know what that stuff is a woman can take to get rid of a baby, and I want to know if there is any way of protecting yourself from conceiving a child,"

she plunged in.

"Christ Almighty! That bastard Patrick has got you in the family way."

He was livid and snarling with anger.

"He has not!"

she denied hotly, knowing full-well she may be telling a lie.

"Terrance Rooney, if I were having a child, I wouldn't be after destroying it. To me it would be a sweet burden."

He sagged to the bed in relief, but then his lips tightened and he said almost primly.

"Such subjects aren't for young ladies. I won't speak of them with you."

"Terry, your narrow-mindedness shows up your working-class background!"

"Indeed?"

he asked calmly.

"Well, a gentleman might discuss things of that nature with you, but only if you were his whore!"

"Forget it. It was only curiosity anyway. What I really came to say was I'm thinking of going to Patrick in America. I'm free now, so why should we wait to get married?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I thought you said he hadn't gotten you in trouble."

She stamped her foot and blurted out.

"For God's sake, it's Julia who's with child. Oh, I shouldn't have told you! Now you'll tell Jeffrey and there will be hell to pay."

"Jeffrey's been generous to me, Kitty. He's offered me a job. However, if you really want to go to America, that's what we will do,"

he offered.

"No, no, love. I want to go alone. Stay and work with Jeffrey and by the time I return as Mrs. O'Reilly you'll be on your way to making your fortune."

"I can rave and curse and forbid you, and after it all you'd have your own way no matter what. You're a willful little bitch, Kitty. I pity the man who marries you."

He laughed and held out his arms to her.

"I must visit Grandada before I go, and by God, when Patrick comes back I'm going to get Swaddy out of that slum, if it's the last thing I do."

The next day Sir Charles had arranged for a picnic in the countryside. After they had eaten, Charles said.

"Do you mind if I smoke, my dear?"

"Oh, please do. Do you grow tobacco on your island?"

"Yes, but its main crops are sugar, bananas, coffee and spices. These cigars come from Cuba."

She watched him light up and said mischievously.

"Would you be shocked if I asked you for one?"

He laughed indulgently.

"I've seen many women in the islands smoke, so I wouldn't be shocked. I wouldn't advise you to smoke though. Not because it's unladylike, but because your breath would no longer be sweet, and it would spoil your pretty teeth."

"Oh! Then I shan't smoke,"

she promised.

"Do you own any ships?"

she asked innocently.

"Well, now, not officially. However, at the risk of shocking you, I will admit I've financed a few pirate ships in my time."

"How exciting! I thought piracy had been outlawed."

"It has,"

he said dryly.

"So has slavery, but sometimes I have to turn a blind eye to that also."

"Oh, no! I cannot approve of slavery. How could you?"

she asked reproachfully.

He sighed.

"Well, morally I'm opposed to it too, lass, but the whole economy of the islands is based on it. You can't run a plantation without slaves. If I enforced the letter of the law, the economic structure would collapse and thousands would starve. So I'm left to choose between two evils, as is so often the case in life."

"I see,"

she said sadly.

"Patrick is in partnership with a ship owner in Liverpool. I just forget his name, but I think he makes quite a good profit off them."

"Aye, that would be Isaac Bolt. Patrick has a business head on his shoulders. Profit is his middle name,"

he said and laughed.

She had gotten the answer to one of her questions easily enough, so she decided to ask him the other questions that were puzzling her. She put her head on one side and regarded him archly.

"Sir Charles, you're a man of the world and I'm woefully ignorant of some things. Would you tell me honestly the answers to some rather intimate questions?"

"Well, we've made a habit of being truthful with each other. What do you want to know?"

"Is there a substance you can buy that will rid a woman of a child she is carrying?"

He looked at her for a penetrating moment and asked quietly.

"Is it for you, Kathleen?"

She took both his hands into hers in a sort of pledge and looked straight into his eyes.

"No, it isn't for me, Charles."

His features relaxed.

"Yes, there is then. It's called Penny Royal. You have to buy it from an apothecary shop."

She took a deep breath and said.

"And the other thing I want to know is: How can you prevent conceiving a child in the first place?"

"Well for a woman there is a little sponge with a ribbon attached that you put inside before you make love, and for the man there is a linen sheath that he can wear."

"I see! Thank you for being so frank with me, Charles."

His eyes twinkled.

"And I suppose that isn't for you either?"

"Well, you have to admit it's useful information for a woman to know,"

she said and laughed.

"Kathleen, I've only a couple of days left. Would you consider...."

She put her hand over his mouth.

"Oh, please don't spoil it by asking me to sleep with you,"

she pleaded.

"Lass, I wouldn't ask that of you. I want you to come with me!"

She shook her head sadly.

"It would be a great adventure, but I won't be any man's mistress, Charles."

"I swear, I had nothing so dishonorable in mind. Kathleen, I want you to marry me."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Marry you? My God, that would make me a duchess! No, Charles, they'd never accept me."

"You would be my choice, my lass; they'd accept you," he swore.

"Charles, no one has ever done me a greater honor, but I cannot."

He looked at her sadly.

"I understand. It's too soon after your loss. A lass can't replace a young virile husband she loved deeply with a middle-aged man she hardly knows."

She wanted to cry out a denial, but she let the words lie undisputed.