Chapter 16 #2
I felt a surge of gratitude that I hadn’t even had to ask Wick for his help.
He’d offered it willingly, and this time with no strings attached.
Or at least, none but the implied ones. Someday I would share what details I could about these events and my incarceration, and he knew he would be the journalist I called.
“I need you to use your contacts to uncover something else for me,” I confessed while he was still writing.
“Ardmore’s past.” He looked up at me in surprise.
“Anything you can find. Particularly the names of anyone still living who might be able to shed some light on his early years.” Max had been researching this very thing with little luck.
“You think they might be concealing something for him?” he asked in confusion.
“I suppose it’s possible,” I admitted. “But we’re more interested in trying to understand what his ultimate goal is. If we knew that, we might better be able to anticipate his next move.”
He sat back. “You don’t think he’s done?”
My jaw firmed. “I know he’s not.”
Wick hadn’t seemed to have considered this possibility, but he agreed readily, scribbling another note across his paper.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He tossed down his pen.
“Harrington isn’t giving me many plum assignments right now anyway.
” He scoffed. “Wants me to lay off the Tans and the Castle administration for a time.”
“Maybe you should,” I said, concerned for his safety.
His expression turned sardonic. “Like you should leave the investigating to the men.”
I heaved a sigh. “I take your point.”
He smiled to soften the rebuke. “Ah, well, history hinges on those who are too stubborn and reckless to know their place.” This was stated with irony, but I couldn’t help but contemplate its measure of truth.
Particularly when we arrived at the Abbey Theatre later that evening to join Mark Sturgis’s party.
A number of them were coming from Jammet’s, where they’d dined on oysters—never my favorite—so we were somewhat of a late edition to their number.
Anderson was there, along with Sturgis’s wife Rachel, Dicky and Helen Wyndham-Quin, and a few others from the Castle administration.
The party was a merry one, Dicky’s horse having won its race at Limerick Junction earlier that day, and many of those present had wagered on it.
I tried my best to join in with the festive atmosphere but found myself less equal to the task than usual.
Sidney was little help, his abstraction growing as the evening wore on, though I didn’t hold it against him as I was able to guess the reason why.
The following day was Armistice Day, the second anniversary of the end of the war, and while for many it would pass with a moment of sober remembrance and a bit of flag-waving, it was not so easy for Sidney.
Or for many of our boys who’d returned home irreparably changed.
Fortunately, the other members of the party seemed to readily excuse my behavior.
I received more than a few sympathetic looks and hands pressed to my shoulder.
I could read in the women’s eyes that they wished to ask me about my time detained in the Castle, but none of them dared broach the topic while their husbands were present.
None but Undersecretary MacMahon’s youngest daughter, that was, who at eighteen could be excused for such a breach of decorum.
“Was it frightful being arrested?” she asked me in breathless curiosity, and I was able to answer with complete honesty for all who fell silent to hear my answer.
“Yes.”
The party was assigned a large private box, and so we spent more time milling about and chatting than watching the play.
At one point I found myself standing near the rear of the box with Sturgis on one side and Dicky on the other.
I’d been contemplating whether to extricate Sidney, who’d been cornered by Sir Gerald Burke’s young new wife, whose enthusiasm for whatever topic she was expounding on seemed in danger of overwhelming my husband, when Sturgis made an offhanded remark.
“Dublin seems more quiet and peaceful of late.” He chuckled. “Or perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part because of this latest peace move.”
I suspected this comment had been made for my benefit, and I turned to him with interest as Dicky replied. “Is that kite still flying?”
“Yes. Though heaven knows if it shall come to anything. Apparently, the men involved are having trouble finding Griffith and Collins to speak to them about terms.” Sturgis’s voice deepened with cynicism, clearly cognizant of the problem of brokering peace with men who couldn’t even get in contact with the chief republican leaders.
“But we’ve agreed to give them more time. ”
“Perhaps it will help that the troops in Tralee were ordered to end their siege.”
“Some siege,” Sturgis scoffed. “The newspapers depict Tralee as if it’s akin to Albert.
” A city in France close to the Somme that had been devastated by shelling during the war.
“But I have it on the authority of Arthur Blennerhassett, who owns most of that unattractive little town, that one has to practically search for ruins. Though he does admit the forced closure of businesses and refusal to allow supplies in is inconvenient to our loyal residents.”
I imagined it was more than “inconvenient” to all the inhabitants, considering the reports that they’d been in danger of being shot if they even dared to venture out of their homes to find food or other necessities.
“But yes, I suppose that must help,” he continued.
“At least, one hopes the rebels see it as a concession on our part. And we’ve begun talks to end this railway strike and allow these men who rightfully lost their posts when they sided with the rebels and refused to drive our troops and supplies to return to their jobs.
They should be pleased about that, as well. ”
Helen swiveled in her seat some feet in front of us, gesturing with her empty champagne flute, and Dicky straightened from his slouch against the table at our backs, saying before he went to fetch her more.
“However, I get the impression these Shinners won’t be pleased until they’ve been given the moon and the stars. ”
I was forced to bite my tongue as he walked away lest I remind him that Parliament had voted to grant Ireland Home Rule six years ago.
We were the ones who had dragged our feet and changed the rubrics.
It was no wonder that the Irish had realized the only way they’d be allowed to govern themselves as they saw fit was by achieving full independence.
The southern and western Irish anyway. I feared it was too late to undo the damage done by political machinations in the six counties of Northern Ireland the government was moving to partition off from the rest.
Sturgis wasn’t aware of these thoughts, or he wouldn’t have leaned closer to murmur, “Have you had a chance to look into that other matter for us yet?”
I kept my gaze trained on the swags at the top of the stage’s curtain that I could see over the edge of the box and answered in a carefully tempered voice. “We spoke to Mrs. Harlow yesterday.” I could feel his gaze trained on me, expecting more. “I can see why Ardmore was interested in her.”
He nodded as if we were in perfect accord, but I doubted he’d seen the same thing in Mrs. Harlow that I had. “Though word is, they’re no longer connected.”
I hummed an agreement, for I’d suspected it was only a matter of time. I also felt it rather put paid to his notion that Ardmore had killed Lieutenant Harlow because of his wife.