Page 18 of The Irish Gypsy
"Yes, sir. Is there just you and your wife,sir? Are there any children?"
He smiled. "The lady is not my wife, Mrs.Harris. I won't be residing there; I'll only be a visitor."
She grasped the situation immediately. "Isee. So it's simply a matter of looking after the lady's wardrobeand attending to her toilet and hair, and accompanying hershopping. And of course keeping an eye on her as regards othergentlemen callers?"
"Precisely, Mrs. Harris. I think weunderstand each other perfectly."
Patrick had asked Jeffrey to call at twoo'clock and was pleased to see the butler usher him into thelibrary at precisely that hour. Julia was in a fit of piquebecause, when she had hinted to her father about a house in Londonfor a wedding present, he had told her flatly they could live atCadogen Square; he had been adamant about not wanting the expenseof another household in London.
Patrick poured them both a glass of Scotchand water, sat behind the library desk and indicated a seat for hisfuture brother-in-law. "Jeff, I hope you won't take me wrong, but Ifeel I have to speak. I would hate to see you set off on the wrongfoot with Julia.
Jeffrey held himself stiffly, not knowingwhat to expect.
Patrick drank half his glassful in oneswallow and continued, "You should start out as you mean to carryon, and that's to take the upper hand."
Jeffrey was surprised at his words.
"Julia is used to dealing with two verystrong-willed men, and yet she is able to get her own way most ofthe time. If she were to come up against anything softer than aniron will, she would walk all over you; worse, she would devouryou," Patrick emphasized.
Jeffrey said carefully, "It would be nice tobe master in my house, but it will not be my own house, will it?Julia will control the purse strings."
"Wrong! Father will control the purse stringsand you can only avoid that in the way I myself did; make yourselffinancially independent of him."
Jeff opened his mouth to speak.
"Ah, don't object before you hear me out. Irealize England's ruling classes haven't soiled their hands withtrade in the past. The Regency saw to that, but we are coming intoa new era now that Victoria is on the throne. England owes itsstrength to manufacturing."
Jeffrey said quietly, "I wasn't going toobject. I would jump at the opportunity to prove myself, in spiteof my family's objections."
"Excellent! Now, I've been giving somethought to you and I believe that the one occupation that wouldn'tput you beyond the Pale is that of wine merchant. You have theentréeto society and you could introduce and promote newbrands of wine, especially champagne. I am about to acquire partinterest in such a company, Stowils of Chelsea. Your help will beinvaluable. What do you say?"
"I should be honored to join you in anyendeavor you have in mind. I'd be a fool to refuse; you are alwayssuch a resounding success."
"Thanks for your confidence. I abhorsnobbery. It's like cutting off your nose to spite your face. Iremember at Oxford I was the best damned oarsman they'd ever had,but I was barred from entering the Royal Henley Regatta because I'dworked with my hands. I had the satisfaction of seeing my schooldefeated because they dispensed with my services."
Jeffrey thought,I wouldn't want PatrickO'Reilly for my enemy.
"So, let's shake on it, and I'll be in touchwith you. Don't forget my advice concerning Julia," Patrick saidwith a wink.
Chapter 6
Jonathan O'Reilly was expecting a shipment ofwine and liquor from the distillery to replenish his stock. When itarrived he looked over the invoices, signed the receipt and toldthe two delivery men to put the cases in the cellar.
An angry Kitty had been sent down for coal.She vowed that she would never do this degrading chore again,promising herself she would appeal to Patrick if there were anyrepercussions. The men stacked the cases of wine at the top of thecellar steps and as Kitty hauled the heavy coal scuttle through thedoor, she collided with the wine and sent eight cases crashing tothe floor. The girl was rooted to the spot with horror. "How many'sbroken?" she finally whispered.
"All of 'um! Eight dozen, that's ninety-sixbottles, you clumsy bitch!"
She stood in a wine-red pool with shards ofglass stretching clear across the kitchen floor.
"Oh, my God, whatever shall I do?" she askedpiteously, and the tears ran down her cheeks and dripped into thepool.
Patrick, followed by most of the servants,came to investigate the crash. "What in Christ's name is going onhere?"
The delivery men spoke up together. "It washer fault, gov'nor. She crashed into the wine with that bleedin'coal scuttle. Who's goin' to pay for this breakage, that's what I'dlike to know."
Kitty dared not look up at Patrick. Shetrembled with the overwhelming knowledge of the havoc she hadwrought.
Patrick's voice had a cutting edge thatbrooked no disobedience. "Clean it up instantly. Replace the orderand bill me. Kitty, come!" He ushered her from the kitchen and upthe broad staircase to his bedroom.
