Page 5 of The Irish Gypsy

By rights Kitty should have been almost immobilized with the shock of coming from the bog to the City of London, but she absorbed everything like a sponge and seemed to thrive. The London house was very grand. There was a butler and two footmen who were the required six feet tall, as well as numerous other servants. There was a chef de maison rather than a housekeeper. Kitty learned to keep out of the way, but she also managed to observe the visitors who came calling. The plain-faced Jeffrey Linton seemed to be wrapped around Julia's little finger, but Kitty thought privately that there was more to him than met the eye. She expected that once they were married he would assume a quiet authority that would keep Julia in her place. His mother and father were obviously titled upper-class, and the necessity of making a connection with 'trade' was distasteful to them, but they swallowed their pride and accepted Jonathan O'Reilly because of his vast wealth.

The date for the engagement party was settled and it was decided to have the wedding in October. Julia insisted that Kitty have a new brown dress and cloak so she could accompany her about London in her many shopping expeditions. Kitty loved to go with Julia to the Burlington Arcade, running north off Piccadilly. There were thirty-one specialty shops in the arcade, which was known as London's most exclusive shopping thoroughfare. While Julia dreamed over the rings in S. J. Rood's Jewelers,

Kitty coveted the beautiful tablecloths in the Irish Linen Company, the cashmere shawls, the folio cases in the Unicorn Leather Shop and the gleaming lead crystal in the windows, all the while rubbing elbows with the British upper crust. It had great Regency charm and a 'Beadle' in full dress of frock coat and trousers, which was like a policeman's uniform; in effect he was a policeman. The prices were pretentious and often outrageous and Kitty longed to be able to go inside and spend lavishly.

The servants did not take to Kitty and gave her the most menial tasks, but she carried them out and didn't complain. She knew they were jealous because she went about with Julia and Barbara, and the old man always had a smile and a kind word for her, saving his bad temper for the other servants. One of the housemaids said.

"She's a real bleedin' apple polisher."

"Ha, tool polisher, more like!"

came the reply.

"Have you seen the way the squire looks at her?"

Jonathan had promised that if Julia met him at the Silver Vaults, he would buy her a full service of sterling for twenty-four. It was understood that any party larger than this would be catered. Tradesmen from the various guilds were falling over themselves to bring samples of their various wares to Cadogen Square, but O'Reilly could not resist a bargain, and he knew the Silver Vaults contained magnificent heirlooms from the aristocracy, who had had to sell when their coffers became depleted.

"We wish to go to 11 Charterhouse Street, which is just off Chancery Lane,"

Julia explained to the cabby.

"Yes, ducks--I know where the Silver Vaults are, believe it or not,"

the old Cockney replied cheekily.

Once inside the vaults, Kitty was transported to seventh heaven.

Every conceivable article that could be made from silver was to be found there.

Some of the precious articles were only being stored, but most of it was for sale.

Jonathan O'Reilly was already being shown around by a salesman when the girls arrived and Julia had a hard time picking what she fancied.

The more ornate, ostentatious articles appealed to her father, while Julia realized the plainer pieces with a simple monogram were in much better taste and would meet the approval of her in-laws.

After Julia had selected a tea service and some soup tureens, she wandered over to the antique jewelry and inspected several pieces.

One was a silver bracelet with silver coins alternating with tiny silver bells, and it tinkled deliciously when it moved.

Kitty felt an overwhelming desire to possess the bracelet.

Never before had anything quite taken her fancy as this little trinket did.

She was quite content to wait for the large silver pieces that would someday grace her own table, but the idea of waiting for some future mythical bracelet to grace her wrist sat all awry with her.

She wanted this bracelet, and she wanted it now! She tried to push away the longing, but the more she denied herself, the stronger grew her compulsion to own it.

That covetous feeling quite overpowered the petty one of self-denial and without ever seeming to have even glanced in its direction, she was filled with elation as her fingers caressed it inside her pocket.

Jonathan O'Reilly insisted on paying cash for everything and loved to pull out large rolls of banknotes before clerks, especially those with clipped, upper-class accents who pretended they were doing a favor by condescending to wait on you.

"Where shall we deliver the silver?"

inquired the salesman.

"We'll take it with us."

The clerk was taken aback, and O'Reilly added.

"My carriage is outside with two great lanking footmen idling about doing nothing. Just step outside and fetch them,"

he directed.

"Kitty, show him where." She bobbed prettily and started to climb the stairs to the street level. The clerk spoke from behind her. He had dropped the Mayfair accent and spoke to her in Cockney.

"The old bleeder's takin' it wiv him coz he's scared of bein' diddled. Fancy him tryin' to be a nob! Well, you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, can you? His bleedin' daughter pinched one of them bangles when I 'ad me back turned, but never mind, I just added the price onto his bill, and that way everybody's happy, eh?" He chuckled.

Kitty smiled happily.

"Yes, everybody,"

she agreed.

The day of the engagement party approached and Patrick had not arrived, to everyone's consternation. There were a lot of preparations required and Kitty was nearly run off her feet. The household was in chaos without Patrick. In one way or another every detail seemed to depend on him. Their father's temper lacerated everyone's nerves to ribbons and it was feared that in Patrick's absence, nothing could be accomplished. He arrived the day before the party. Julia flung open the door for him, kissed him soundly and blurted out.

"Thank God you're here! You must do something about Father and, oh, yes, I want you to mount me; the horse Father has supplied is a positive hack--I'm ashamed to death to be seen on it."

Barbara came flying down the stairs and rushed into his arms. He picked her up and swung her around, completely ignoring his recent wound. She blushed profusely when she saw Terry struggling in with the luggage. She lowered her voice and whispered urgently.

"Patrick, you will allow me to attend this party, won't you? And please make Father get us a dancing instructor. I absolutely must know how to dance before the wedding."

All he needed to do was be there, and miraculously everything fell into place. His eyes went up the staircase until they found the one he was looking for. He put Barbara down and gazed up at Kitty, only just visible over the banister. She looked down longingly as if she would like to be lifted into the air too. He thought, She's been deprived all her life. God, how I'm going to enjoy lavishing her with luxuries. I'll smother her with affection and pamper every whim once we get this damn engagement out of the way.

Kitty, ashamed to be caught peeping through the railings for a glimpse of him, put up her chin and slowly descended the stairs. She kept her eyes carefully lowered and started to help Terry with the luggage. Patrick was horrified and beckoned the two footmen with an imperious finger. He said coldly.

"See that this girl doesn't carry anything heavy again."

Halfway up the stairs one footman said to the other.

"Damnation, I was going to slip up to her room one night, but it looks like she's private crumpet!"

The other shrugged and said.

"When the maids are nicer lookin' than the daughters, you know they have to be warmin' the master's bed."

They were dining en famille that evening and Julia, animated even more than usual, was doing her utmost to cause another dinnertime brawl.

"Patrick, I shall just die, just simply die, if Father starts in tomorrow night on his old theme of 'I'm a self-made man; I pulled myself up with my own bootstraps.'"

Barbara eyed her father fearfully as his jowls turned purple and he began breathing heavier, but Patrick put in coolly.

"Julia, I know we're beyond the Pale because our dirty fingers dabble in trade, but sometimes I think you should look to your own manners instead of concentrating on Father's. While you're cataloging his faults, you've overlooked his generosity toward you. I'm afraid you've been sadly spoiled, and I'm guilty in that department. I think I'll have a quiet word with Jeffrey."

Julia wanted to pull the tablecloth off and smash dishes, she wanted to throw the contents of the soup tureen over him, she wanted to fly at him and scratch out his eyes, but she knew better than to tangle with Patrick when he was in this quiet, cutting mood. Barbara's dinner was totally ruined now that her brother as well as her father was hostile; she tried to conceal her sniffling behind her napkin. Without glancing in her direction, Patrick said.

"That noise is unacceptable at table. You may go to your room."

Barbara fled; Julia followed.

Jonathan O'Reilly looked down the table at his son and felt uneasy.

"What's the matter lad? Is your wound plaguing you?"

Patrick shook his head.

"A bit tired, I suppose. It's just these women--they're all the same, they always want something."

"We've both spoiled them because they've no mother, but who spoils us, eh, lad? Anyroad, tell me about the mills. Who did you leave in charge?"

"I know you trust Tom Connors, so I put him over all three mills. If things work out well, I think you should leave him as manager to take some of the load from your shoulders. I'm putting my money into that shipping venture I told you about with Isaac Bolt, and I'm seriously considering going to America on one of the trips."

"Maybe I should sell the mills and retire altogether,"

Jonathan mused.

Patrick was shocked; though he agreed completely with that suggestion, he had never thought to see the day his father would propose it.

"Well, there's no hurry. Once Julia is married, perhaps you can think about it more seriously. I certainly intend to invest any future monies in London, rather than the North; perhaps you should do the same."

On the day of the engagement party, Kitty was up at five o'clock. She was told to light the kitchen fires and when she discovered all the coal scuttles empty, she could have cried with vexation. She hated going to the cellars for coal, as there were always rats, but worse than the rats was the degrading nature of picking up the filthy cobs with her hands to fill the scuttle and then heaving it up the stairs; a job much too heavy for her.

The chef had a hired helper for the day, so naturally he had to establish total authority by throwing a temperamental fit of pique. The chef demanded the flagstone floor of the huge kitchen be scrubbed before he set foot on it, and this job fell to Kitty. While she longed for the fancy jobs such as making exquisitely patterned butter pats and putting silver balls on the pretty gateaux, in reality she got the job of gutting and cleaning the fowl. She only thanked God that someone had had the foresight to pluck them the day before. So while the other maids helped make canapés and hors d'oeuvres, she sat with a bucket of guts between her legs and pinched her nostrils together as best she could to prevent her gorge from rising. She silently prayed that Julia would need her for something and call her away from all this, but of course the girls were busy with their own preparations. Their gowns were to have final fittings and each spent over two hours with the hairdresser.

After lunch Kitty was put to work cleaning vegetables. Her hands were in water so long they became crinkled and red. When at last she was finished, she wiped them on her apron and surveyed them with dismay. She shrugged; there was no alternative but to steal some of the hand lotion from Julia's room next time she passed that way. Kitty longed to find a concealed hide-away where she could observe the guests, but due to a mild conspiracy of the other servants she was placed at the sink once again. At first she took pleasure in handling the fine crystal glasses and china plates, but after she had stood at this task four hours without respite, her legs began to ache painfully. Her hands stopped being red and wrinkled and turned white and bloated. Kitty felt sorry for herself. She hated them all. She could imagine the music and the laughter in the big salon that stretched across the whole front of the house, and vowed that when she was rich and gave parties, she would always remember the poor drudges belowstairs who had to do all the dirty work. She wasn't allowed to go up to bed until after one o'clock in the morning, and her weary legs could hardly carry her up the back stairs to the attic. The thought of arising again at five appalled her, and she thought enviously of Julia and Barbara, who could stay in bed until noon if they fancied.

Patrick was up early about his own affairs the next morning. He took a lease on a small but smart establishment in Half-Moon Street and sent a note around to the employment agency setting out his requirements for a lady's maid, informing them he would be around the next day to make his selection. He kept the appointment promptly and made his choice from the three women they had lined up for him.

"Mrs. Harris, the lady you will be looking after is rather young and your duties will be quite light. Naturally, I have a daily to do the heavy work and I think I'll get a cook too. Here's the address. Can you start tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir. Is there just you and your wife, sir? Are there any children?"

He smiled.

"The lady is not my wife, Mrs. Harris. I won't be residing there; I'll only be a visitor."

She grasped the situation immediately.

"I see. So it's simply a matter of looking after the lady's wardrobe and attending to her toilet and hair, and accompanying her shopping. And of course keeping an eye on her as regards other gentlemen callers?"

"Precisely, Mrs. Harris. I think we understand each other perfectly."

Patrick had asked Jeffrey to call at two o'clock and was pleased to see the butler usher him into the library at precisely that hour. Julia was in a fit of pique because, when she had hinted to her father about a house in London for a wedding present, he had told her flatly they could live at Cadogen Square; he had been adamant about not wanting the expense of another household in London.

Patrick poured them both a glass of Scotch and water, sat behind the library desk and indicated a seat for his future brother-in-law.

"Jeff, I hope you won't take me wrong, but I feel I have to speak. I would hate to see you set off on the wrong foot with Julia.

Jeffrey held himself stiffly, not knowing what to expect.

Patrick drank half his glassful in one swallow and continued.

"You should start out as you mean to carry on, and that's to take the upper hand."

Jeffrey was surprised at his words.

"Julia is used to dealing with two very strong-willed men, and yet she is able to get her own way most of the time. If she were to come up against anything softer than an iron will, she would walk all over you; worse, she would devour you,"

Patrick emphasized.

Jeffrey said carefully.

"It would be nice to be master in my house, but it will not be my own house, will it? Julia will control the purse strings."

"Wrong! Father will control the purse strings and you can only avoid that in the way I myself did; make yourself financially independent of him."

Jeff opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah, don't object before you hear me out. I realize England's ruling classes haven't soiled their hands with trade in the past. The Regency saw to that, but we are coming into a new era now that Victoria is on the throne. England owes its strength to manufacturing."

Jeffrey said quietly.

"I wasn't going to object. I would jump at the opportunity to prove myself, in spite of my family's objections."

"Excellent! Now, I've been giving some thought to you and I believe that the one occupation that wouldn't put you beyond the Pale is that of wine merchant. You have the entrée to society and you could introduce and promote new brands of wine, especially champagne. I am about to acquire part interest in such a company, Stowils of Chelsea. Your help will be invaluable. What do you say?"

"I should be honored to join you in any endeavor you have in mind. I'd be a fool to refuse; you are always such a resounding success."

"Thanks for your confidence. I abhor snobbery. It's like cutting off your nose to spite your face. I remember at Oxford I was the best damned oarsman they'd ever had, but I was barred from entering the Royal Henley Regatta because I'd worked with my hands. I had the satisfaction of seeing my school defeated because they dispensed with my services."

Jeffrey thought, I wouldn't want Patrick O'Reilly for my enemy.

"So, let's shake on it, and I'll be in touch with you. Don't forget my advice concerning Julia,"

Patrick said with a wink.