Free Daughters of Castle Deverill by Santa Montefiore Page B

know her even though she was now a
married woman. He was used to her turning up without prior warning and striding across the hall, shouting for his mistress. He wondered what it was
this
time.
    Grace was in the scullery, making a large flower arrangement for the church, although, at this time of year, there was little in the way of flowers to be found in the garden. She stood in a
green dress and teal-coloured cardigan with her brown hair pulled back into an untidy bun, leaving stray wisps loose about her hairline and neck. When she saw Kitty she smiled warmly, her brown
eyes full of affection. ‘What a nice surprise,’ she said, putting down her secateurs. ‘I need a break from this tedious task. Let’s go into the drawing room and have a cup
of tea. Brennan has lit a fire in there. My fingers are near falling off they’re so cold!’
    Kitty followed her into the main part of the house, which was lavishly adorned with Persian rugs and decorated with bright floral wallpapers, wood panelling and gilt-framed portraits of
ancestors staring out of the oil with the bulging, watery Rowan-Hampton eyes that had been inherited by their unfortunate descendant Sir Ronald. ‘Ronald has sent a telegram announcing that
he’s arriving the day after tomorrow with the boys and their families, so I’m trying to warm up the house,’ said Grace, treading lightly across the hall. All three of her sons had
fought in the Great War and by some miracle survived. Since the Troubles they had preferred to remain in London where they considered the society more exciting and the streets safer for their
children. ‘I persuaded them all to come home for Christmas this year even though there are few exciting parties to go to. Without the castle the place doesn’t feel right any more.
Still, it will be nice to have everyone back in Ballinakelly again. It’s lonely here on one’s own.’
    Kitty imagined that Sir Ronald knew all about his wife’s infidelity. They clearly adhered to the Edwardian mode of marital conduct: the wife produced an heir and a spare after which she
could make her own arrangements, provided they were discreet. It was a given that men of Sir Ronald’s class would take lovers, but Kitty couldn’t imagine how the ruddy-faced,
barrel-bellied Sir Ronald could appeal to anybody. Truly, the idea was distasteful. Sir Ronald rarely came to Ireland and Grace seemed to have made her own life here without him. Kitty sensed Grace
was rather irritated when he showed up. She wondered whether Grace had had other lovers besides her father. Somehow she doubted Grace was ever really on her own.
    They sat on opposite sofas and a maid brought in a tray of tea and cake and placed it on the table between them. ‘I see Celia is ploughing ahead with her plans,’ said Grace.
‘It must be hard for you and Bertie to watch her and that ridiculous little man she’s hired running riot among the ruins of your home. Still, I suppose it’s better than the
alternative.’
    ‘It’s better than many alternatives,’ Kitty replied. She watched Grace pour tea into the china cups. ‘The Shrubs are driving her to distraction with their suggestions.
They think they’re being helpful but they don’t realize that Celia wants to do it her own way.’ There was a long silence as Kitty wondered how to begin.
    At length Grace smiled knowingly. ‘What is it, Kitty? I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. What are you plotting?’
    Kitty took a deep breath then plunged in. ‘I’m leaving for America with Jack O’Leary,’ she declared. ‘This time I’m really going and Michael Doyle can’t
stop me.’
    At the mention of Michael’s name Grace put down the teapot and her smiling eyes turned serious. ‘Michael is at Mount Melleray, Kitty,’ she said in a tone that implied Michael
had gone to the abbey for pious reasons rather than to be cured of the drink. ‘I’m sure he regrets many of the things he did during the Troubles, but