Rebel Sisters by Marita Conlon-McKenna

Author:Marita Conlon-McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473508606
Publisher: Transworld

Chapter 40

Isabella

ISABELLA INSPECTED THE dining table. The cut glasses and crystal decanter sparkled against the crisp, white linen tablecloth, an arrangement of garden roses at the centre. She had checked that all was in hand with their new housekeeper Julia’s preparations in the kitchen. The lamb was roasting, the prawns in aspic were setting on ice in the cold room, the soup was made, the salmon ready to be served. For pudding there were twelve individual lemon possets in their glass serving dishes and a rich cream and apricot layered pastry tart to which Frederick was always partial.

Everything was in good order as Isabella went upstairs to dress before their guests arrived. Tonight she would wear the pale lavender-coloured silk dress which was based on a French design; Frederick said it made her look ‘très jolie’. Fixing her hair with a pretty mother-of-pearl comb, she made her way downstairs to wait for their guests.

They had invited three of Frederick’s dearest legal friends and their wives, her friend Henrietta and her husband Albert, and their neighbours Jerome and Iris Quinn who lived only a few houses away from them. She greeted each guest warmly as Julia took their wraps and jackets. Iris and Jerome were the last to arrive.

‘How is it the closer one lives to one’s hosts, the later one always seem to be?’ apologized Jerome as they joined everyone in the drawing room.

Isabella smiled to see that the conversation was already in full flow, which she considered a good omen for the rest of the evening. The men all stood together while the ladies sat in a group, laughing gaily. At the signal from Julia, they led their guests into the dining room.

‘What beautiful blooms, Isabella dear!’ exclaimed Dorothy Pearson.

‘The roses are all cut from our garden.’

‘You must have green fingers,’ put in Dorothy’s husband William, who was Isabella’s dinner companion.

‘Frederick is the one with the green fingers,’ she confessed. ‘He seems to be able to grow anything. This year we’ve had the most exquisite camellias and peonies, and he is growing tomatoes and plums for our table.’

Frederick flushed with pride as he accepted compliments, while Julia began to serve the prawns in aspic jelly decorated with cucumber and dill, and the wine was opened. Isabella kept an eye on everything to ensure that it was proceeding as expected. Soon the soup appeared, then the salmon followed and people discussed holiday plans.

‘We intend to retreat to a lodge in Kerry where there is good fishing for Robert,’ contributed Florence.

‘We are back in Wicklow as usual, but now we go only for the month of August,’ said Isabella, noting that the lamb was served perfectly pink, with a mint jelly made from their own garden mint. The men all went for second helpings but the ladies politely declined.

As the main course was cleared, Isabella felt she could relax.

‘What are the sentiments with regards to this Government of Ireland Bill that the House of Lords has just passed?’ asked Edward Whitestone.

‘Can you imagine a nationalist-run parliament in Ireland?’ responded William testily.

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