Page 81 of The Missing Sister

‘It was, yes, and my friends, the Travers, who lived in Timoleague House, are sheltering here with us. They have only the clothes they stand up in, but are at least grateful that the Irish who attacked their home allowed them to leave. Anyway...’

Lady Fitzgerald brushed a hand across her forehead distractedly.

‘These are dark times we live in, Nuala. It has been discovered that some... sensitive information was passed to the IRA, regarding details that were sent to this house by Major Percival himself. The man mentioned in the letter – or at least, by his initials – did not arrive to meet the spies, but sent others in his place. They were dealt with, of course, but the man Major Percival and his team had spent months hatching a plot to entrap still remains at large to plan and commit further atrocities like last night’s.’

Nuala felt Lady Fitzgerald’s gaze resting upon her.

‘That letter was open here on this very desk two days ago. When you were sitting in that chair, and I left you alone to see Mr Lewis for a few minutes.’

Nuala could hardly breathe. ‘I—’

‘And this incident had me questioning other events,’ Lady Fitzgerald continued. ‘A few months ago, the major foiled an attempt on his life in Bandon, but the assassin had apparently been warned and had disappeared. Not a soul other than the major, his men and my husband knew that the Essex were to break into those houses to catch the perpetrator. Except for myself, of course, and my son, whom I told in confidence. Nuala, I am asking you now to tell the truth. Did Philip discuss it with you?’

‘I... ’tis so long ago now, but I think Philip had said that Major Percival was coming over to see Sir Reginald the day before, and that he wouldn’t want to walk in the gardens whilst there was a visitor. That was all.’

‘Are you sure about that, Nuala?’

‘I’m certain,’ she nodded.

‘Sadly’ – Lady Fitzgerald gave a long sigh of resignation – ‘it appears that you are lying. I mentioned in passing to Philip earlier whether he’d discussed Major Percival’s plan with you and he said that he had. His story was also corroborated by Maureen, who was most distressed to report that she was in the room serving tea when the conversation took place.’

‘Yes, now I think about it, ’tis true, your ladyship. Philip did mention something about Major Percival. I didn’t want to say that to you, in case I got him into trouble. We often talk about the... hostilities. We are, well, we are friends.’

‘And he trusts you. I understand,’ said Lady Fitzgerald. ‘Which makes this situation even harder.’

‘I swear that I’ll tell him in future that I don’t want to discuss anything with him. ’Tis only because he seemed to have no one else to talk to, other than you, of course,’ Nuala added hastily. ‘And I’d never be looking into your personal things, or reading letters—’

‘Forgive me Nuala, I find that difficult to believe. You see, after I spoke to Maureen and she confirmed my son’s story, the poor thing broke down. She said she felt torn by loyalty to you as another member of staff, but that she felt she must tell me that your family are noted Fenians, with your brother a known IRA volunteer. She also told me that your sister Hannah is a leading light of this Irish women’s voluntary organisation. She suspects that you may be too, or at the very least, support your family’s... activities from the sidelines. What do you have to say to that, Nuala?’

‘Nothing, other than ’tis true my family are made of proud Irish stock, but beyond that I know no more. Besides, I’m no longer living under their roof. My husband is Finn Casey, a schoolmaster at Clogagh.’

‘I know he is, Nuala, and I also know that he has been mysteriously absent from work a great deal in the last few months.’

‘He’s been sick, Lady Fitzgerald, with a bad stomach. What could be wrong with that?’

‘On the surface, nothing, but Maureen has a friend who lives close to you. Apparently, she went to call on your husband in the afternoons to see if he needed anything whilst you were working here. She told Maureen the curtains were all drawn and there was no response from inside. As if the house were empty.’

‘He was very sick, Lady Fitzgerald, and not up to receiving neighbours.’

‘So sick that you left him all those afternoons to come here for eight hours?’

The question hung in the air for a good few seconds before Lady Fitzgerald spoke again.

‘This is Ireland, Nuala, and even though I may have been born English, it has been my home for over twenty-six years. I know very well how communities look out for each other. And how a newly married wife would not leave a seriously ill husband alone without someone to care for him. There would have been someone with him, Nuala, or at least checking on him regularly.’

‘I...’

‘I am not here to judge you, your family or your husband on your activities outside this house. In fact, I’d prefer it if I didn’t know, because I like you very much, Nuala. And the most tragic thing of all is that so does my son.’

Nuala watched tears come into Lady Fitzgerald’s eyes.

‘However, given this new information, and the devastating fires in Timoleague last night, I can no longer trust you. Or your family.’

‘But I hardly know Maureen! How come she thinks she knows so much about them? The truth is that she’s never liked me.’

‘Now, now, Nuala, please don’t be churlish. It doesn’t suit you. The simple truth is, I cannot take the risk of my dear innocent Philip imparting further information to the woman whom he believes is his friend. Therefore I am forced to terminate your employment here. You will leave the house immediately.’ Lady Fitzgerald walked to the desk, opened it and pulled out a small brown envelope. ‘That is your pay until the end of the week.’

Nuala stood up, open-mouthed in horror. ‘May I not even say goodbye to Philip?’