Chapter 28 #3
I had to lower my gaze to my plate lest they see the incredulity in my eyes that they were justifying the violence meted out on innocent civilians.
Yes, the murders were terrible. No one was suggesting they weren’t.
But in this war, the police were enemy combatants.
The British government had made them thus by recruiting former soldiers and officers into their ranks and tasking them with gathering intelligence. Civilians, on the other hand, were not.
“But Kent does have a point,” Anderson conceded, sinking back in his chair.
“I’m also concerned by our ability to control them after allowing them to do as they please, almost without consequence, for too long.
” He shrugged. “But I don’t know what else to suggest should Sinn Féin refuse to give up their arms. The prime minister is refusing to budge on that point. ”
“I wonder if we might get farther with de Valera,” Sturgis reflected. “Rumor is, he’s returning to Ireland.”
I resisted the urge to look at Sidney, for here was a topic we’d hoped to introduce, but had known would be tricky to broach.
“Now, wouldn’t he be a delightful fish to net,” Sir Gerald quipped.
“The ports are being watched,” Sturgis assured him.
“You think that de Valera will be more amenable to capitulation, but he’s not been here, facing the same horrors and hardships,” I pointed out, genuinely seeking to grasp their logic.
“And he’ll be shocked when he does.” Sturgis frowned. “At least, that’s what Ardmore used to contend. But I’m not sure we’re interested in his opinions anymore.”
This seemed like all but confirmation that Ardmore was interested in de Valera. All but confirmation that we should be concerned about de Valera’s return for a different reason.
“I thought Mick Collins was the man you were most eager to catch?” Mrs. Bennet asked in confusion. Her mouth was puckered into an annoyed moue, making it clear she was growing bored with this topic of conversation, but attempting to follow regardless.
“We are, sweetheart,” French replied. His heavy brow furrowed as he turned back to the men. “How the devil has Winter not captured that rapscallion yet?”
I lifted my serviette to my mouth to mask a quivering smile as a ragout of beef with herb dumplings was set before me.
The lord lieutenant had been all but rendered obsolete because it was believed he was more of a hindrance than a help to the current administration, so to hear him demand answers about the manifest failings of a man who had been especially critical of him was faintly amusing.
“The chief secretary has obtained permission to have two monasteries civilly searched this evening,” Sturgis replied. “There’s good intelligence that Collins may be hiding at one of them.”
This threatened to make me openly chuckle, for the notion of Collins hiding in a monastery seemed preposterous. Where on earth was O getting his information? Even Sidney seemed to recognize the absurdity, forcing me to avoid his gaze lest we make the other laugh.
However, we weren’t amused for long, not when we ran into trouble returning home despite our curfew passes and the motor vehicle permit Sidney had recently acquired in compliance with the government’s tightening of regulations.
When the soldiers who stopped us threatened to impound his beloved Pierce-Arrow, I wasn’t certain I’d ever seen my husband so irate.
Though to be fair, he had already had one Pierce-Arrow set on fire during an earlier investigation.
Because of this, I let him grumble uninterrupted the remainder of the drive home.
Then the next day an RIC district inspector was shot and killed while strolling with his fiancée along Henry Street in Dublin.
It was undoubtedly the work of the Squad and added further fodder to the fire.
I wasn’t cognizant of precisely what the officer had done to earn a spot on Collins’s kill list, but I wondered if part of the motivation in assassinating him was to show the government and Lloyd George that the rebels were far from beaten.
If the prime minister’s refusal to budge on terms was any indication, the British government seemed to think they had the republicans backed into a corner, but I saw no sign of that being true.
Which I supposed put paid to all hopes for a truce.
Something that toppled my spirits, especially with the holiday approaching.
We had told my family we hoped to spend Christmas in Yorkshire with them again this year but had to finally accept that we would still be stuck in Dublin.
Breaking this news to my loved ones wasn’t easy because we couldn’t explain our real reasons for being here or why we couldn’t leave.
Only my older brother Freddy seemed to have an inkling of what I’d actually done during the war, and the work Sidney and I had been conducting since, but we couldn’t confirm it for him.
I was tired of all the lies and evasions, tired of hearing the disappointment in my family’s voices and having to pretend I was thoughtless and selfish.
I could only pray that some of the reparations made the previous December could be shored up again when we were able to visit.
Irrespective, it merely confirmed my decision to be done with the SIS for good.
Sidney and I had sacrificed enough of our lives. It was time to move on.