No Enemy but Time by Evelyn Anthony Read Free Book Online Page A

felt as if the writer didn’t care whether her letters were decipherable or not. She knew the name, of course. The family were not rich; much of their land had been sold to pay the debts of successive wastrel sons. The baronetcy was a reward for acts of loyalty or oppression, depending upon which view you took of a small rebellion in the 1720s. They were old gentry, tolerated because they were permanently in decline and had fallen prey to drink and idleness. The family had been relieved of the embarrassment of a huge, unmanageable Georgian house by a convenient fire in the twenties. Sir William Hamilton was said to have started it himself, rather than repair the roof, which let in torrents of water in one wing.
    The insurance company, refusing to accept the IRA as culprits, declined to pay. The family found themselves with a gutted ruin and one surviving wing. A local builder obliged by knocking down the remains in exchange for the materials he could salvage, and the place had been known as the Half House by local people ever since. The present Lady Hamilton was English and had some private money. Eileen read the letter slowly.
    Dear Mrs Arbuthnot,
    We hear that you and your husband are living at Riverstown since the poor Major’s death and would be so pleased if you can come and dine with us on December 19th. It is a little close to Christmas, but that seems a good excuse for a party and it’s high time we entertained some of our friends. We are so looking forward to meeting you and do hope you can come.
    Sincerely,
    Claudia Hamilton
    P.S. I’ll send you an aide mémoire if you can.
    Eileen passed the letter to Philip. ‘What’s an aide mémoire ?’
    â€˜It’s a reminder; that’s what it means, to remind you to come. It’s a very nice letter. You’ll like her, darling, she’s great fun, marvellous horsewoman. He’s a good chap, but he’s mostly tight. I think we should go.’
    â€˜All right,’ she said. ‘If you want to.’
    â€˜If they weren’t nice people, I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said firmly. ‘They’ll like you and you’ll like them, darling. Sooner or later, you’ve got to mix with our neighbours and this is a good way to start. Now, I’ve got to be off. See you at lunch time.’
    He kissed her, squeezed her shoulder and was gone. She had been surprised how hard he worked on the place. She, per contra , had so little to do. There was a little hand-bell by her place; she rang it for Bernadette to come and clear the breakfast plates away. After that first tour of her new home, Eileen had avoided going into the kitchen as much as possible. Mary’s attempts to be familiar with her when Philip wasn’t there had been painfully embarrassing.
    Sensing his wife’s difficulty, Philip suggested she revert to his mother’s custom and order the meals through Lily, as if she were the departed housekeeper. Lily’s sour resentment was easier to manage than her blood cousin’s attempt to presume and profit by their distant relationship.
    And Lily’s instinct for the winning side soon tempered her attitude to the new mistress. She became ingratiating and saw herself finally taking over the housekeeper’s role. There was surprising strength in Eileen Arbuthnot. Shy and lacking confidence she might be, but she was not a woman to challenge outright and gradually the staff accepted her. They grumbled and gossiped among themselves, but Philip knew that his wife was in control.
    She left the dining room that November morning and took the dogs for a walk down by the river. The old Labrador and the two Jack Russell terriers loved to go rabbiting along the bank. She hadn’t a dog of her own yet. Domestic pets were not a part of Irish life; animals were worked, not cosseted. There was no sentiment towards them and no positive cruelty either. People were poor; even the better-off worked grinding