The Black Candle

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Well then, the quicker he sits down and starts writing the better…for him.’

  William now looked at Lionel, then pointed to the desk. But before Lionel stepped towards it his head drooped onto his chest and his free hand doubled into a fist. Then he was sitting in the round-back swivel chair, and, his hand grabbing up a steel pen, he thrust it into the ink, then held it poised over the paper. But such was his grip on it that the ink dropped in a blob onto the sheet; and his father, who was now standing by his side, whipped it aside before turning and looking towards Douglas.

  ‘Dear Mr Kemp—’ Douglas waited a moment, then went on, ‘This is to inform you as from this day, the 12th day of October 1884, I wish you to discontinue the allowance agreed upon on my marrying Miss Victoria Mordaunt.’

  ‘No, begod!’ Lionel’s fist crashed on to the paper and his body was bent far over the desk as if he were about to collapse.

  As he slowly raised himself up, his father, who had turned and was staring at Douglas, muttered, ‘No. No, Doug; don’t go that far. Think what it means.’

  ‘I’ve thought what it means, Father. He has a choice.’

  Lionel’s back was straight now; the pen once again in his hand. He waited; Douglas began to dictate again:

  ‘My circumstances have changed and I am now in such a position that I do not require further help. I am, sir, yours truly.’

  The scratching noise of the steel nib on the paper seemed to get louder as Lionel wrote down the last few words, rising even higher as he signed his name. But when he rose from the chair and turned from the desk it was impossible to describe the expression on his face. His father turned from it and to Douglas, who was saying, ‘I’ll be leaving here tomorrow, Father. I can no longer stay under this roof.’

  As William was about to speak, both he and Douglas turned to glance towards the door and the sound of muttered voices; then Bright’s voice came clearly, saying, ‘No, madam!’

  The door was thrust open and there, standing within its frame was Victoria. She was dressed in a blue satin dressing gown. Her hair was hanging about her shoulders. She looked a beautiful picture. She moved up the room now, saying, ‘They…they were talking on the landing. I was coming out of…I understood you had been quarrel…’ She had been approaching her husband and when she saw the condition of his face she ran to him, crying, ‘Oh, my dear! My dear! What has happened? Who has done this?’ She now turned to Douglas, saying, ‘What is all this about? Why have you been fighting? You are the most disagreeable person these days, Douglas. You are…’

  ‘Shut up, woman!’

  Her eyes widened, her lips trembled as she looked at her father-in-law, but when Douglas went on, ‘You had better get yourself back to bed, madam,’ she dared to say, ‘I…I won’t. I won’t! I’m not a child, sir. I want to know what all this is about.’

  ‘What it is about, madam, has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Ev…everything that happens to my husband has something to do with me.’

  As she went to catch hold of Lionel’s arm he thrust her aside and, glaring at Douglas, cried loudly to him, ‘Go on! Finish your job. Tell her.’

  ‘No! No!’ William thrust out an arm towards Douglas as if to stop him; but what Douglas said was, ‘It’s a matter of money, Victoria, just money.’

  ‘Money?’ She was now looking at Lionel. ‘What do they mean, a matter of money?’

  Lionel looked down into the face of which he had become tired, not only of the face, but of the whole woman, considering her a stupid, empty-headed individual, and blaming her for deceiving him into thinking she was a rich young lady. And oh, he was sure in his mind she had known all along the real situation. And of late he had actually come to hate her, especially during these last few days in Carlisle where, he had told himself, if he had only waited he would have definitely met up with Mrs Daisy Barnett, who was as enamoured of him now as he was of her and who had been the means of getting him a post in the company, which would have promised a bright future ahead, if only he had been unfettered by this silly creature who had been governed by that bitch of a woman. And it was not as much to hit at the bitch as at her that he cried, ‘Yes, my dear, as my brother said, it’s all a matter of money, because, you see, and prepare yourself for a blow, my dear one, when I discovered just before we were married that you were not the rich young lady you pretended to be, even though saying you were a poor little girl, I was for letting you remain a poor little girl. But the real rich young lady, dear Miss Bridget, bribed me by offering me two thousand a year to marry you. And as I was very hard up at the time, what could I do? But now that I have a position which provides me with a salary of a thousand pounds a year, my dear brother there thought…well, it was only right that I refuse the payment I have been receiving for putting up with your presence. So, when he suggested that I should write to Mr Kemp to this effect, we, as you see, had more than words.’

  ‘You cruel swine!’

  It was only his father’s two arms being thrust out that kept Douglas from springing forward and renewing the fight. The old man cried, ‘Enough! Enough!’ but now turned to Victoria and said in a much softer voice, ‘As for you, my dear, these things happen, these things…Oh my God!’

  Both he and Douglas rushed forward as Victoria crumpled slowly into a heap, and when Lionel made no move in any direction, Douglas knelt down and lifted Victoria’s head. Then looking up at his father, he said, ‘Water, a glass of water.’

  The old man looked at Lionel, but when he still didn’t move he himself hurried as quickly as his cumbersome, overweight body allowed and went out of the room. Once the door closed on his father Lionel, looking down on his brother, who was cradling Victoria’s head and shoulders in his arms, said in a strangely quiet voice, ‘I’ll never forgive you, to my dying day. And there’ll come the day when you’ll be sorry that you ever created this situation. This is a promise, dear brother.’ And with this he turned and walked away down the room, there to meet his father coming in, a glass of water in one hand and a decanter in the other. And his father, in a voice that held a plea, said to him, ‘Stay and see to your wife, man, because no matter what you do, you can’t get over that you married her and she is your wife.’

  Lionel stared at his father for a moment, then went on past him, and the old man shambled up the room, his body bent.

  As he handed the glass of water to Douglas, Victoria opened her eyes, gave a small shake of her head, turned and looked into Douglas’s face, then turned sharply away again. And when Douglas said, ‘Here, take a drink of water,’ she slowly pushed it aside. Then, her palms on the floor on each side of her, she pressed herself from him, got onto her knees, then pulled herself upright. And there she stood a moment looking at her father-in-law before she turned and walked quite steadily down the room.

  Left alone, the old man and the young man looked at each other. And it was William who said, ‘Well, son, you have unveiled something tonight that is likely to have repercussions for years to come, and you’ll have to ask yourself, was it worth it? Aye, that’s what you’ll have to do, son, ask yourself, was it worth it?’ And forthwith, he, too, left the room, leaving Douglas, his hand to his throat again, asking himself the same question. Was it worth it?

  Six

  Bridget stood in the bare drawing room of Milton Place, bare but for the drapes and the carpets which still remained. The house had been sold but the new owners weren’t due to take over legally until January 5th, 1885. There was no seating except on the window sills, and so she paced the room while awaiting Victoria’s arrival. In the note she had written to her asking for this meeting she had stated eleven o’clock; now it was almost twenty past.

  She was not only worried but somewhat bewildered by the letter she had received from Mr Kemp indicating that he had received instructions from Mr Lionel Filmore to stop the payments as from the date on the letter. And knowing something of the character of Lionel Filmore she could not imagine him rejecting the two thousand a year w
hen it was only because of her offering that sum that he had agreed to go ahead with the marriage.

  She had gone to Mr Kemp’s office to see if he could throw any light on the matter, but what he had said was merely in line with her own thinking. Lionel Filmore wasn’t the kind of man to throw aside two thousand a year even if he had now found employment that was bringing him in a reasonable salary. A man such as he, Mr Kemp had assured her, could never earn enough money to meet his needs.

  She had phrased her letter diplomatically to Victoria, saying she would be visiting the factories and, while she was this way, she would like to have a word with her as it was some time since they had met.

  Hearing the trap on the gravel drive, she hurried across the empty room and equally empty hall to the front door, and opened it to see her cousin throwing the reins of the horse over the iron horse-post. Victoria had her back to her, but when she turned and made for the front door the change in the beautiful face acted as a shock on Bridget, and she stepped over the threshold to meet her while holding out her hand, saying, ‘You look cold,’ then added, ‘Aren’t you well?’

  Victoria made no reply. She had not taken the extended hand but she walked past Bridget and into the hall, where she stopped for a moment as if surprised at the emptiness. Then she moved on to the open door of the drawing room and she had walked to the middle of it before she again stopped and her body gave a visible shudder. And at this, Bridget said, ‘Yes, it is cold, isn’t it?’ She didn’t go on to say, ‘I’m very cold, too. You’re almost half an hour late; I was on the point of going,’ instead, she said, ‘I’m sorry there are no seats, but come and sit on the window sill.’ It was as if she were addressing an acquaintance…

  ‘I don’t need to sit on the window sill.’

  ‘What is wrong, Victoria? You…you look ill.’

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘Yes, I am surprised. And why are you taking that tone with me?’

  ‘My answer to that is, why did you wish to see me?’

  ‘Well, because…’

  ‘Please don’t bother lying. I know why you wished to see me. You want to know the reason why your solicitor has been informed that the price you offered to get rid of me has now been refused.’

  Bridget actually gasped as she stepped back from her, and it was some seconds before she could find words to say. ‘Me! Get rid of you? What was done was for your happiness, nothing else. If he had turned you down then, like the silly romantic girl you were at that time, you would have pined and gone into decline. You were crazy about him and I couldn’t bear to see you unhappy…Get rid of you? How could you think such a thing!’

  ‘I can think such a thing because, as he said, and he was solid and sober when he said it, not drunk as he was the night before, that I had only to use my sense…that is if I had any, and ask myself why my cousin would pay a man two thousand a year if it wasn’t to get me off her hands. All that business about caring and wanting my happiness was merely a cover, because you could no longer put up with my…’ She closed her eyes tightly and turned about.

  Bridget did not go to her; she did not move; but the words she said now were coated with bitterness: ‘And you believed him, after all my years of caring for you? And I wasn’t a sister or a cousin to you, I was a mother, and I loved you like a mother. Yes, like a foolish mother I spoiled you. That is the only thing I regret, that I let you go on being a silly girl, with not a serious thought in your head, laughing your way through life.’

  ‘Well, I’m no longer a silly girl.’ Victoria had swung round; and her voice was loud and strident now as she cried, ‘You can take comfort from that, I’ve been turned into a woman overnight. I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again. As for silly thoughts, there’ll never be any room in my mind again but for hate. Do you hear that? Because I’ve been used by you, and him, and because of that I’ve had to suffer the contempt of servants. What is more, I am carrying a child, and if I could split my stomach open at this moment I would drag it out. Do you hear? Do you?’

  Bridget stood open-mouthed. She was astounded. She could not believe with her ears or her eyes that this girl, her cousin whom, as she said, she had mothered and loved dearly, could have changed into this bitter, even vicious-tongued woman. It was impossible to credit. Something terrible must have happened back there in that house to bring on a change like this. It wasn’t only the fact of him refusing the money, it was the reason behind it. Why had he refused it? And why had he turned on her and thrown the reason at her for taking it in the first place? Why?

  She made her voice remain calm and soft as she said, ‘Don’t talk like that, Victoria, because no matter what happens you will have the comfort of your child. At the present moment you are ill and I don’t know the real cause of it. It can’t be just the revelation about the money; there must be something else. What is it? Tell me, what is it?’

  For a moment Bridget saw the old Victoria emerge as a puzzled look came on her face and she said, ‘I don’t know what happened before. They had been fighting in a dreadful way, both bleeding, all cut.’

  ‘Who? You mean, Douglas and him?’

  ‘Yes, Douglas and him.’

  ‘And you don’t know what it was about?’

  ‘No.’ Her words came slowly now. ‘I don’t know what it was about. I only know, from the sight of them, they meant to kill each other; and I wish they had. Oh, I wish they had.’

  There was the woman back, the new woman. And now Bridget listened to her as she went on, ‘You said I’d have the comfort of a child. Who wants the comfort of a child when they’re no longer a wife? Spurned, thrown aside, openly, in front of his father and Douglas. But that was when he was drunk.’ And now she looked away down the long empty room and, her voice dropping, she said, ‘But not the next morning. I have been lonely for months, and I wouldn’t believe what my senses were telling me. But he translated my doubts and suspicions into cold facts. And do you know something, Bridget? He wanted to know if I would like to return to the comfort of your protection. He was quite willing that I should. And you know what I told him?’ She raised her head now and looked up at the decorated ceiling as she went on, ‘I think it was at that point I changed. I practically saw myself change as I said to him words to the effect that he had been paid for me, and if he chose to return the payments that was his business, but I was his wife and although I wouldn’t let him lay a hand on me as long as I lived, I would remain in that house and be mistress of it. And he would have to provide for me and the child.’ She now looked down at Bridget again as she went on, ‘What I should do is put the finishing touches to my bold effort and say, as he had done, I am going to refuse the two hundred and fifty a year you allow me. But the silly girl has gone and the woman knows she’ll likely be very glad of that money before life finishes with her.’

  Her head now drooped onto her chest, and for a moment Bridget thought she was going to burst into tears, and she was about to step towards her when the voice checked her, saying, ‘Don’t swamp me with your sympathy, Bridget; I couldn’t bear it. I shall try to believe that what you did for me you thought was for the best. Through time I shall likely come to see it that way, but at the present I am bowed low with humiliation. Yet, at the same time I’m filled with a feeling that frightens me. I can’t call it courage, or determination, I only know that I want to live in order to retaliate.’

  She now lifted her head and stared at Bridget, and Bridget muttered, ‘Oh, my dear, my dear Victoria, it is agonising to see you in this state. And you may come back at any time. You know that.’

  ‘I never shall, Bridget. Never. Part of this strange feeling tells me I…I’ll stay in that house until it crumbles around me.’

  She now turned and walked towards the hall, and Bridget followed her, but before opening the door to let her out, she said, ‘You’ll have Douglas. He is a kind man, and…’

  ‘Douglas left this morning, for good, with three suitcases…’

  ‘Where has he gone?’
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  ‘I don’t know.’

  Bridget opened the door, but Victoria didn’t immediately go through it; she turned and looked around the empty hall, then stepped out onto the terrace and again stopped. And here, looking straight into Bridget’s face, she said, ‘There is nothing as dead as dead love, for the sad thing is there’s nothing left to bury, nothing, when it’s been shot into smithereens.’

  All the years they had been together they had never had a conversation that reached any depth, nor could she ever remember her making a cryptic remark.

  Shot into smithereens.

  She watched the woman untie the horse, climb into the trap and drive away, all the while looking straight ahead, and into what?

  Seven

  It was nearing Christmas, but Bridget asked herself, ‘What did it matter?’ For the past few weeks she had made herself keep, as near as possible, to routine. On a Wednesday, she had gone by train to Gateshead and visited the blacking and the candle factories. Every Thursday afternoon found her in Newcastle, in the office in Northumberland Street, going over the week’s takings with her manager and agent, Arthur Fathers, and discussing with him and the four rent collectors the need for repairs or purchase, or, in some cases, demolition.

  Friday, too, she would be in Newcastle seeing Mr Kemp. This part of the business week she usually enjoyed, because he was a fatherly man, and kindly, and he knew all about her, as he had done about Victoria, until recently. These latter visits, however, had been less enjoyable in that her enquiries were centred on the Filmores, and little fresh knowledge of that situation had emerged, only that Lionel Filmore’s name was being openly associated with that of Mrs Barnett: they had been seen dining together on several occasions. About Douglas there seemed to be no information. To use Mr Kemp’s own words, that young man had apparently entirely disappeared. Probably, he had left the country.