Page 165 of The Love Letter
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t you see that it was perfect for them? Michael returning to Ireland, bearing an extraordinary resemblance to the Duke of York. Remember, Partition had just taken place. The Irish loathed the English. All they had to do was put it about locally that there was a member of the British royal family staying in the area and the rest would happen naturally. It was the perfect “scalp” for the Irish Republican movement at the time.’
‘You mean the establishment wanted him dead?’
‘Of course. Under the circumstances, it was imperative they put him out of the way permanently. But it needed to be done discreetly, presented to the Duchess in a way she couldn’t question. No one quite knew how she’d react, you’d see, given her –’ Rose checked herself – ‘state of mind at the time.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘The one who saved Michael from certain death was his Irish lady love – Niamh, I think her name was – whom he’d met when she came to keep house for him there. Apparently, one night, she heard her own – and I might add highly Republican – father plotting and planning to kill Michael. So, between the two of them, Niamh and Michael organised his escape on a cotton boat back to England.’
‘I know who she was. I met her sister, Ciara, in Rosscarbery. Niamh Deasy died. In childbirth, along with her baby,’ Joanna added.
‘Oh my.’ A tear came to Rose’s eye. She reached into her sleeve for a hanky and dabbed her eyes. ‘Another tragic casualty in this twisted web of deceit. Michael always wondered what had happened to her after he left Ireland. He was expecting her to follow him to England, but of course, he couldn’t write to her to find out when. Or put in writing where he was. But she never came. Now I know why. He was very fond of her, although I doubt it was love. I never heard him mention a child, mind you.’
‘Perhaps he didn’t know,’ mused Joanna. ‘Maybe Niamh never told him.’
‘And maybe she didn’t realise herself until a bump appeared in her stomach.’ Rose sighed. ‘It was a much more innocent time back then. None of us girls were really taught in any detail about the facts of life. Especially not Catholic girls.’
‘Poor Niamh, and her baby. She was so innocent . . . she had no idea of the complex man she had fallen in love with. Please go on,’ Joanna urged.
‘Well, Michael came back to London and managed to contact the Duchess. They met at my London house. He told her how the establishment had tried to engineer his death. The Duchess was understandably hysterical with anger. Having spent a sleepless night trying to think how she could protect him, she returned to see me. When she told me what she was going to do, I told her that it would put both herself and her family in the most compromising position if it was ever discovered. But she’d have none of it. Michael O’Connell had to be kept from harm, and that was an end to it. After all, no one else was there to protect him. He’d been used and discarded. And the Duchess was – out of love, or scruples – wishing to do the right thing.’
‘What was it the Duchess did?’
‘She wrote him another letter, which I delivered personally to his lodgings, concealed in the usual way.’
‘I see.’ Joanna was doing her best to compute the facts as they were spoken. ‘And Michael O’Connell used whatever was in this letter to buy himself his safety. A new identity, a substantial house and a brilliant future?’
‘Spot on, young lady. I doubt if he’d have asked for anything, had they not tried so obviously to get rid of him. He was never a greedy man. But –’ Rose sighed – ‘he thought he’d be safer, the more noticeable he was. Besides, he deserved the success he achieved. He’d pulled off one of the greatest acting roles of the twentieth century.’
‘Yes, he had. And I suppose that it’s much easier to murder a nobody than it is a rich and successful actor. You obviously knew him well, Rose.’
‘I did, and I feel I did my best for him, he was a good man. Anyway, after that, everything seemed to settle down. The Duchess accepted he was gone, that she had done her best to protect him, and she and the real Duke resumed their relationship.’
‘May I say, Rose, that this is what has puzzled me in the past few days,’ queried Joanna. ‘The Duke and Duchess’s marriage was always regarded as one of the biggest success stories of the monarchy.’
‘And I truly believe it was. There are different types of love, Miss Haslam,’ said Rose. ‘Michael and the Duchess’s relationship was what one might call a brief but passionate affair. Whether it would have endured beyond those few months, we will never know. Certainly, once the Duchess knew he was safe, she stood by the Duke during all the trials and tribulations that followed. She never mentioned Michael’s name again.’
‘When he later became famous as James Harrison, surely their paths must have crossed?’
‘Yes, but thankfully, by then he’d met Grace. By complete coincidence, I’d known her for years. We were presented at court together. She alwayswasas mad as a hatter, but James fell for her hook, line and sinker.’
‘It was a real love match then?’
‘Absolutely. They worshipped each other. Grace needed James to protect her against a world she’d never been very comfortable being a part of.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘As I said, Grace White was emotionally unstable. Always had been. If she hadn’t been part of the aristocracy, she’d have been tucked away in a funny farm years before. Her parents were just thankful to get her off their hands. However, with James she seemed to blossom. His love steadied her . . . somewhat erratic personality traits. They had their son, Charles, and all was going well for both of them . . . until the King’s abdication.’
‘Of course. The Duke became the King, the Duchess the Queen. I suppose then that it was even more vital that the secret affair never came out?’
‘Oh yes, my dear, it certainly was. Confidence in the royal family was at an all-time low. The old King had done the unthinkable and given up the throne of England to marry an American.’
‘Which meant his brother – the Duke of York – was left to take over,’ mused Joanna.
‘Quite. Even though I was in France at the time, having married François, I felt the shock waves over there. Neither the Duke nor the Duchess had ever even considered that one day they would be crowned King and Queen of England. Nor, and perhaps more importantly, had those who worked behind the scenes, those who knew exactly what had happened ten years earlier.’
