Page 18 of The Irish Gypsy

The weather suddenly changed drastically. Summer was over. The wind blew from the north so fiercely and the rain had come down in sheets all night. Autumn was here with a vengeance and the leaves were shedding from the trees by the thousands. Kitty wrapped her cloak about her and stepped out into Cadogen Square. She walked quickly up to Knightsbridge and on past Hyde Park Corner. There was a little man in a cocked hat he had made out of the Times. He carried a placard that read: 'Less Meat....Less Lust.' In spite of the biting wind, Kitty stopped to listen for a moment. He equated meat eating with carnal lust and was handing out leaflets advising people to eat more fruit and vegetables and thereby become pure. Kitty bit back a question about rabbits and their breeding abilities and covered a smile with her gloved hand as she hurried along Piccadilly.

She turned up Half-Moon Street, with which she was somewhat familiar, and into Shepherd's Market, where she remembered there was a very fancy apothecary shop. As she opened the door, a bell rang above her head and an elegant gentleman with a very pronounced Mayfair accent offered to assist her. For a moment she wanted to ask for something else and leave quickly, but her courage didn't quite desert her. She was amazed to hear herself asking for Penny Royal, but she couldn't keep her face from coloring deeply as he gave her a sly, knowing look of sneering condescension.

He left her alone while he went into the back of the shop. She waited and waited and would have left without what she came for except her feet wouldn't seem to carry out her wishes. When he finally returned, he was still measuring powders into packets and as she waited patiently he kept casting her knowing glances.

Kitty's Irish was up as she observed his carefully concealed bald spot and expensive clothes. Finally when he handed her a tiny packet and asked for twelve guineas, she knew he had her over a barrel in asking such a ridiculous price. Her pride wouldn't allow her to haggle over the cost, but she couldn't help giving him a setdown. She looked at him blandly and said.

"I've heard this stuff is good for baldness,"

then she turned on her heel prettily and departed unruffled and pleased with herself.

"I want a few minutes alone with you, Julia. Will you come up to Patrick's room where we won't be overheard?"

Julia, intrigued, followed her upstairs.

"Please don't interrupt me until I'm finished, Julia. I've made up my mind to do something which no amount of arguing will change. I'm going to America, to Patrick. I hope to sail next week. I'm a widow now and I see no reason why I should wait months for him to return."

Julia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"Please don't waste your breath trying to dissuade me."

"Then all I can say is bonne chance."

Julia smiled kindly.

"Now then, I have a present for you."

Kitty reached into her reticule and handed her the packet. Julia's eyes widened as she realized what Kitty had done for her. Then tears of relief and gratitude mingled and fell down her cheeks.

"I've also learned of a simple device to use to prevent conception. I'll write it down for you."

Barbara came running in, breathless with excitement.

"Oh, Kitty, Terrance has just told me. I think you're the bravest person in the whole world!"

Kitty started to laugh, almost hysterically. She was quite willing to bet she was the most terrified person in all London. Her insides were jelly when she thought of the terrifying sea voyage that was ahead of her. Then there was the child. She couldn't even allow her thoughts to wonder what she would do if Patrick would not marry her. An illegitimate child in Victorian England was so sinful, its stigma lasted a lifetime. Beyond this was the dark fear of childbirth. Her own mother had died giving birth to Terry and the thought was enough to make her mouth go dry and her knees to turn to water.

"I want you to help me pick out some traveling clothes, Barbara. Then maybe we can dine at that new fancy restaurant after the shops close this evening. I don't think Julia is feeling too well, and I think she'd like to be left alone for a few hours."

Kitty bought an amber velvet gown with a square neckline and puffed sleeves. At another shop she purchased a pale green wool with long sleeves and a dark green velvet cloak with a heavy quilted lining. Queen Victoria had set the fashions to disguise her many pregnancies. Kitty was glad of the full skirts, for though she hadn't started to expand yet, they would be useful in the months ahead to camouflage her condition, which she could no longer deny.

Barbara and Kitty didn't return to Cadogen Square until after eight that evening. As soon as Kitty deposited her packages in her room she went along to Julia's bedroom.

"May I come in for a moment?"

Julia's voice rang out.

"It worked splendidly, Kitty, but by God I've gone through hell this afternoon. The worst seems to be over, but I'm still having awful cramps."

"I think you will have, but I suggest we have the doctor come and have a look at you just to be on the safe side."

"But, Kitty, he'll know,"

she protested.

"Very likely he'll have his suspicions, but there isn't a damned thing he can do about it, is there?"

"But what if he goes to Jeffrey with the story?"

"The best thing is for me to send Jeffrey a note telling him you've miscarried and we've sent for the doctor. He'll come dashing home from his club or wherever he's gotten to at this time of night, filled with guilt and showering you with sympathy."

"You know a lot about men, don't you, Kitty?"

asked Julia with admiration.

"Do I?"

wondered Kitty, surprised.

"Please see baby Jeffrey gets to bed without me tonight and send that note off to his father right away. Terrance probably can run him to earth."

While Barbara and Kitty bathed the baby, Kitty observed him closely. He was all O'Reilly, exactly as Patrick must have been. He had a head full of black, silky curls, a very red mouth that was either chortling with laughter or screaming his displeasure with those about him. He was a robust, sturdy baby with all-knowing Irish eyes, and not one speck of his father's blue blood showed in his physical appearance. She prayed that her own baby would be half as lovely.

The next morning Kitty took a hansom cab to The Swan with Two Necks in Lud Lane. They owned sixty coaches and over a thousand horses. To sit up on top cost three pence per mile, while a seat inside cost five pence. The weather was too miserable for Kitty even to consider an outside seat. The trip from London to Bolton would take twenty-eight hours, with a stop for the night at Leicester. The coachman would expect a tip of at least a shilling, and the guard would want half a crown. Doing mental arithmetic, Kitty allowed five pounds for the trip. The generous amount Patrick had given her had shrunk to such miniscule proportions that she felt guilty.

What had seemed like an adventure soon deteriorated into a wearying trial of endurance. The seats were so hard you could get relief only by shifting about, but the passengers were packed so tightly you had to sit still to avoid encroaching on your neighbors. The roads were so bad with the constant downpour that all the passengers had to disembark every time the coach came to a steep hill because the horses couldn't climb and pull in the mud. Although her cloak was sodden and her shoes and stockings wet through, Kitty pitied the horses and felt annoyed at the complaints of the other passengers, most of which came from the men, she noted with contempt.

The next morning her clothes were still damp when she embarked at Leicester. The sky was leaden but at least it had stopped raining. When the coach finally unloaded at the Packhorse Hotel in Bolton, Kitty stumbled and could hardly walk. Resolutely she picked up her bag and made her way through the dirty, narrow streets that led to Spake Hazy. It was after dark, but the lamp-lighters had done their rounds and the gas lights shone their brave yellow along each cobbled street.

After Kitty had been sitting in front of the fire, laughing and chattering for an hour, it was almost as if she had never been away. Everything was the same, except Ada had produced another child and by the looks of her, she was off again. When the household retired, Kitty and Swaddy were able to be private at last.

"Well, my beauty, you're off to America, are you?"

"Patrick promised to marry me, and I don't see the need to wait months and months until he sails home. Do you?"

His eyes twinkled.

"Well, lass, if he's been at you, it would be a good idea to get that ring on your finger."

"Grandada, don't reproach me. I've been wildly in love with him since I was a child."

"Couldn't you have satisfied yourself with that young husband you wed?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He married me only because he lusted for Terry."

"Then he likely deserved what he got. Remember, beauty, no guilt."

Kitty pressed ten pounds into his hand before she curled up for the night.

"Thanks, acushla. Make an effort to behave yourself in the future, lass. You have an uncanny knack for getting into scrapes."

She laughed.

"Patrick will look after me."

He shook his head and thought: A man would need to wear his jackboots to control you, lass.

It was teatime the next day when Kitty walked past the posh Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool. Inside, waiters in white gloves and frock coats served wafer-thin cucumber and watercress sandwiches to the elite who politely listened to a twenty-five-piece orchestra hidden behind a jungle of foliage. Kitty hurried past and bought a pie from a pieman hawking his wares. Liverpool was peopled with seamen from all over the world, lascars, black men and at least half the population seemed to be Oriental. A large directory on the wall of the Lyver Building told Kitty where Isaac Bolt had his offices. She knocked and walked in. A clerk asked her business and she told him she wished to speak to Isaac Bolt

"I'm afraid he's occupied at the moment, ma'am."

He hesitated.

"His daughters are with him."

"Well, I'm sure if you told him that the sister of his partner, Mr. O'Reilly, was in his waiting room, he would see me,"

she ventured.

"Oh, I'm pleased to meet you, madame. Mr. O'Reilly is a great favorite around here. I'll tell Mr. Bolt right away that you are here."

She was shown into an office with large, ugly furniture.

Isaac Bolt was in his sixties with graying mutton chop whiskers. The elder daughter was quite pretty, but the younger one had slightly protuberant eyes with hooded lids. Kitty knew immediately that she was very shrewd. Kitty held out her hand to Isaac Bolt and smiled.

"I'm Patrick's sister, Barbara. How do you do, Mr. Bolt?"

"A pleasure, my dear. These are my daughters. Alice is the pretty one, and this is Maude. Maude is the fey one, but what she lacks in beauty she makes up for with brains."

He laughed heartily and Maude stood up on her tiptoes and whispered something in his ear.

"Exactly so, exactly so, Maude. What service may I render you, Miss O'Reilly?"

"I'm going to join Patrick in America. I would like passage to Charleston on the first available ship."

"I do admire an adventuress. Let's see now, Big Jim Harding is sailing tomorrow or the next day. I can issue your tickets right here."

"How much is the passage, Mr. Bolt?"

"Well, let's see now. It's forty pounds, or if you wish a cabin to yourself and first-class service, it's fifty pounds."

"Oh, that's fine,"

said Kitty, carefully extracting fifty pounds from her purse.

"Are you traveling alone?"

he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. You see, my maid took sick on the journey from London, so I left her at our house in Bolton,"

she improvised quickly.

"I see. Well, just a moment and I'll validate this ticket for you. Now, you must stay with us tonight. We're on our way home now. My girls will be delighted to have you, my dear."

"Ah--well, I was planning to put up at the Adelphi Hotel,"

she lied.

"but you know how they frown on women traveling alone."

"Just so, my dear, just so."

Kitty smiled to herself as she sat down to dinner. Boiled meat, boiled potatoes, boiled cabbage. It was all so unappetizing, she realized it was fortunate she hadn't developed a delicate palate. She marveled at Isaac Bolt, who seemed to have the digestion of a horse. When dessert arrived, he exclaimed with relish.

"Ah, spotted dick!"

Kitty laughed aloud, not at the quaint name he had given it, but at the fact that the pudding also was boiled.

After dinner, her father insisted Alice sing for them. He requested all the mawkish, sentimental Irish ballads and Alice delivered them in her high, too-sweet voice, while her father beamed fatuously. The evening seemed endless, until Kitty wished she had spent the night under a hedge. Somehow, finally, the evening came to a close.

"I'll take you down to the ship in my carriage in the morning and see you safely aboard. Maude here will show you to a guest room. Breakfast is at seven sharp. Alice, come."

When they were alone, Maude looked at Kitty.

"Excruciating, wasn't it?"

Kitty's lips twitched appreciatively and she came close to liking Maude. On impulse she asked.

"When I came into the office today, what did you whisper to your father?"

"I said, 'If that's Patrick's sister, I'm a Chinaman!"

Kitty blushed vividly.

"Then why did he let me continue with the deception?"

Maude shrugged.

"Don't worry about Father; his whole life's a deception."

She jerked her head toward the stairs and said.

"He's having her, you know."

"You don't mean....you can't mean....his own daughter? I don't believe it."

Maude laughed.

"Believe it! I'm the youngest of twenty-one children he's had out of four different wives. When the last one died, the family all got together and decided to put a stop to him having droves of wives and children. There's twenty-one of us to divvy up when he goes to that great shipyard in the sky, so Alice was the logical sacrifice."

"But that's unheard of!"

said Kitty.

Maude chuckled.

"Aye, unheard of, but a common enough practice all the same. Think now, surely you know one or two families where a widower has one of his daughters fill his wife's place?"

"Only socially,"

protested Kitty.

"Socially and privately,"

assured Maude.

"Does Patrick know what's going on?"

asked Kitty, scandalized.

"I'm certain he doesn't; however, we all could stand on our heads and smoke Indian hemp and he wouldn't show a flicker of interest in us personally. He's all business. In fact, you are a very big surprise to me. I've often wondered about Patrick's woman. I pictured either a toffee-nosed daughter of a peer, or a plain-faced girl as rich as Croesus. I never thought he'd let his heart overrule his head in a million years."

"Well,"

Kitty said with a laugh.

"that's a very pretty compliment. Thank you."

"Save the thanks, lass; you aren't wed yet!"