The Made Marriage (5 page)

‘Why not? His mother is frightfully prim and proper and extremely conscious of her position in life. It would turn the tables nicely on Master Nicky if he found himself with a ready-made bride.’

She gazed fixedly at the vase of daffodils, trying to keep the tears back. ‘I think it’s a horrible idea.’

He appeared surprised. ‘But don’t you long for vengeance on the man who brought you gallivanting over to Ireland in search of non-existent romance?’

‘Oh no, in fact I’m lucky not to have met him, that’s my point of view, if his mind was taken up with playing a horrible sort of practical joke on you.’

‘Well, I must say that’s very forgiving of you. It’ll make it easier for you to go back again and take up again where you left off.’

But it wouldn’t, not really, she told herself miserably, and although she realised that Owen was being covertly derisive she was too concerned with thoughts of the future to be resentful. She could well imagine what Kenneth’s attitude would be
:
his settled disapproval of her would be reinforced by her latest escapade. Life at the red villa would be full of chilling silences and unspoken criticisms. Reluctantly she laid down her cup. Owen glanced at the wag-o’-the-wall, which had been inexorably recording each passing moment in the cosy homely kitchen. ‘It’s time we were heading for the station,’ he said briskly.

Once he had seen her off on the train with that ridiculous animal, he would return to Laragh and resume his everyday existence and gradually Kate Norbert s arrival and her absurd expectations regarding himself would become nothing more than an amusing memory. But he would definitely have a word with Nicky regarding his latest efforts to create chaos in his life. It was going a bit too far when one found strange females dumped on one’s doorstep—or rather amongst the young cabbage plants.

In an effort to prolong the moment before she would have to resume her travels, Kate carefully collected a few odd crumbs and formed them into a minute pile.

‘Don’t you think you’re carrying tidiness to extremes?’ he remarked impatiently.
‘
Do you realise you may miss your train if you dawdle any longer?’

Kate nodded wordlessly and, getting to her feet, slowly untied the tiny frilly apron.

With growing acerbity he waited while she buttoned on her dark blue coat. She was deliberately dawdling, he suspected, and felt unreasoningly angry as he saw how young and bewildered she looked in the small knitted cap she wore over her dark gold hair. Nicky’s letters must have been extraordinarily convincing and persuasive to tempt such a girl to cross the Irish Sea in search of a man she had never even laid eyes on.

In slow motion Kate picked up the wicker basket and crossed to the little cat, which, having consumed a saucerful of milk, was again lying asleep, a blissful expression on her black face. She looked so peaceful and contented that Kate was loath to wake her, but, like herself, Bedsocks would have to set out on her travels once more.

It was at this moment there was a loud thumping on the door and a child’s treble was heard to declare, ‘Mr. Lawlor, me mammy’s after falling down and breaking her arm in two places, so she won’t be able to c
o
me up to Laragh tomorrow, she says to tell you.’

‘
That’s young Barty Murphy,’ Owen frowned, and pulled open the door.

A small redheaded child repeated the message parrot-wise. It was obvious he had been well rehearsed by his mother.

‘And just how does she expect me to manage until she returns?’ Owen asked, showing scant sympathy for the unfortunate Mrs. Murphy.

Barty giggled delightedly. Evidently his mother had anticipated this enquiry. ‘She says there’s some shepherd’s pie and some cold meats in the larder and she’ll be back in no time at all.’

‘She certainly won’t be back in no time at all if she’s broken her arm, and shepherd’s piece and cold meats don’t last for ever,’ Owen returned, ‘especially when farm workers with healthy appetites have to be fed.’

Barty scratched his head and looked vague.

Owen sighed. ‘All right, tell your mother I’ll get Daisy McLaughlin instead.’

‘Can’t,’ the child piped triumphantly. ‘The young ones have the measles and she can’t get away.’ Evidently his mother had also anticipated that her employer might vouchsafe this suggestion.

‘All right,’ Owen said in a resigned manner. ‘Tell your mother not to worry. I’ll try to make some other arrangements until she’s able to manage again. Not that Mrs. Murphy will worry,’ he growled, as the child departed with a clatter of iron-shod boots on the cobbles. ‘I imagine
s
he
met with her unfortunate accident while under the influence of Guinness and I expect she’s delighted that Mrs. McLaughlin, who’s a hated rival, can’t oblige. But what I’m to do now is beyond me. There are so very few women free even for a few hours in the village and now that we’re ploughing and sowing the men work up a healthy appetite and it takes someone as easy-going as Mrs. Murphy not to get irritable and unable to cope.’ He sat on the end of the table and rubbed his work-roughened hands through his dark wiry hair.

Kate, who had been on the point of waking up Bedsocks, straightened and said eagerly, ‘I’m very good at coping and I don’t get irritable—at least not very often,’ she added hastily.

He glanced at her abstractedly and she realised that he hadn’t even been listening to her.

‘I promise I shan’t get in the way,’ she added a little desperately, ‘or—or make any claims.’

At last she seemed to have riveted his attention. ‘Any claims? I should say not. What possible claims could you have on me? Nicky’s the one who should have been saddled with you.’

Now that an opportunity had arisen that might delay her return to England, she was beyond being wounded by his determination to repudiate all responsibility for her predicament. ‘I’m quite a good cook,’ Kate hurried on, determined to give herself as good a testimonial as possible.

‘You’re not by any chance suggesting that you take over here in place of Mrs. Murphy?’ he asked in astonishment.

She nodded eagerly. ‘After all, you’ll have to get someone. Why not me?’

He laughed shortly. ‘Have you ever made cabbage and bacon? Or baked soda-cake?’

‘Well, no,’ she conceded, ‘but I could learn.’

‘No doubt,’ he said dryly, ‘but even if you were a
cordon bleu,
there is also the fact that your presence here would be a matter of gossip all over the countryside.’ For a moment he glanced at her and for the first time she got the impression that he was really observing her and assessing her without rancour. ‘You see, unlike Mrs. Murphy, you’re not fat and middle-aged and addicted to the bottle. In fact,’ he added grudgingly, ‘I suppose you would be considered quite attractive.’

As it was impossible to consider this detached statement as even remotely flattering, Kate didn’t allow it to sidetrack her from her original idea. Now that there was this slight chance of remaining on at Laragh she determined to fight to the last in an effort to convince him that she was right for the job. ‘But your Aunt Florrie’s coming to stay, you told me—I mean, Nicky did,’ she added.

‘
Nicky seems to have put himself to quite a deal of trouble in this matter,’ he said dryly. ‘It’s clear he inveigled you over with the story that Aunt Florrie would be here.’

‘But it’s true, isn’t it?’ she persisted, ‘that your aunt is coming to stay? Couldn’t she act as a sort of—of chaperon?’ she concluded desperately.

‘She does stay here from time to time,’ he admitted, ‘but when she next intends to descend upon me, I simply don’t know. No, the whole idea is out of the question!’ He spoke with an air of finality that made her heart sink. ‘I don’t want any young females disrupting my life, especially one who imagines she has some sort of claim on me.’

‘Oh, but I don’t,’ Kate rushed in.
‘
You can simply think of me as a substitute for Mrs. Murphy.’

He frowned thoughtfully down at his mud-stained boots. This girl was dangerous, he told himself. Obviously without caution or plain common se
ns
e, she could prove a serious nuisance, yet it was imperative that the men’s meals be prepared and the house kept in some sort of
order. He did not particularly look forward to the tire
s
ome search for someone to undertake Mrs. Murphy’s duties. Definitely the sensible thing to do would be to bundle the girl and her cat into the car and deposit them at the station as quickly as possible.

‘I’m quite a good housekeeper too,’ Kate put in thoughtfully, and stole a glance at the harsh features. At least he was considering her proposition, she thought hopefully. Now was the time to press home her advantage. ‘Bedsocks and I won’t give you the smallest trouble. You won’t even know we’re in the house.’

She waited hopefully and for the first time saw a slow smile cross his craggy features.

‘Well, you’re certainly doing a good job of putting yourself over,’ he remarked grudgingly, ‘but remember, if you do stay on, it’s not to be a moment after Mrs. Murphy recovers. This is only a temporary job, so get that into your head, right from the start.’

Elated, she nodded. She was not prepared to look any further than the present. She would face her problems again, she told herself, when Mrs. Murphy’s return appeared imminent.

‘All right, that’s settled then.’ He got to his feet, his mind already on the work he had abandoned to deal with this ludicrous episode. ‘The men will be in for their tea shortly. No doubt you’ll be able to cope. They have a simple meal of soda-bread, tea and boiled eggs, but remember to make the tea very strong or you won’t be popular around these parts.’

Rapidly she unbuttoned her coat and again donned the minute apron.

For a moment he stood and regarded her critically. ‘Physically you’re a poor substitute for Mrs. Murphy. She weighs about fourteen stone and is built in proportion.’

Kate, however, was much too anxious to hold on to her newfound position to take this as a compliment. Instead, she said hurriedly, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be able to manage all right, and I’ll be sure to make the tea nice and strong.’

He nodded. ‘In that case I’
ll
leave you to find your way about the house. It’s not really very big or complicated and Mrs. Murphy always keeps one of the rooms ready for an unexpected guest—as you most certainly were! It’s the first door at the top of the stairs.’

‘Thank you, Owen—I mean, Mr. Lawlor,’ she amended hastily. ‘You see, after several of your letters, I began to think of you as Owen. They were so warm and friendly. But of course it wasn’t really you who was writing, but your cousin Nicky—’ She trailed off on the verge of being hopelessly involved.

He nodded. ‘Exactly! And as there is no resemblance whatsoever between Nicky Fitzpatrick and myself I suggest that on the whole it might be as well if you regard me as Mr. Lawlor. After all, I’m your employer, nothing more or less,’ he said ungraciously.

It might be as well considering
the
girl’s highly romantic nature to keep her on strictly formal terms. In that way she would get no mistaken ideas concerning his attitude towards her.

‘Very well, Mr. Lawlor,’ Kate said submissively, as he departed.

He frowned as he strode across the yard and along the narrow boreen that led to the top field. The bright merry glance of her grey eyes had belied the meekness of her tones. It was just as well that it wouldn’t be long before Mrs. Murphy with her comfortable bulk and homely features was once again bending over the steaming pots and jollying the men with her easy banter.

And that was another point he had not considered! How would this odd girl get on with the men? Would she be insufferably superior in approach, or foolishly easygoing? He had been ill-advised to let her stay on, he told himself glumly, and the prospect of arbitrating between the men and his new domestic help didn’t afford him any satisfaction.

Once he was gone and Kate was left to herself in the kitchen, she pirouetted around the table in a sudden access of good spirits. Even Bedsocks seemed to realise that her stay at Laragh was not to be rudely disrupted and had already taken possession of the cretonne-cushioned rocking chair that stood by the range.

First, Kate decided, she would take her case up to her room and study her new domain. As her employer had pointed out, it was not a particularly large house, but it was a far cry from the tiny thatched cottage that she had pictured. A winding oak staircase led from
the
broad hall to a panelled landing off which lay rows of solid oak doo
r
s. At the extreme end was a large stained-glass window casting amber and pink lights on the old rocking-horse that stood against the wall; battered and scarred, and with most of its mane missing, it was
she
suspected a souvenir of earlier generations of Lawlors. Mrs. Murphy, she decided, in spite of her weaknesses, was an excellent housekeeper; Kate discovered the house sparkled with cleanliness and her own room, she was pleasantly surprised to find, was fresh and gay with curtains of crisp muslin
:
the carpet was of almond green and valances of matching green lawn hung from each end of the bed.

When she had tidied herself she crossed to the window. Her view, she found, was of the farmyard which
s
he had crossed with Owen. It was now a buzz of activity. Two men were using a cross-saw on an enormous beech log and brown and white cows were straggling between the tall iron yard gates, shepherded by the two collies, and a young fair-haired farm labourer. As soon as the milking was over, no doubt the men would be in search of their evening meal, and she hurried downstairs to begin preparing it.