The Lost Sisters
Page 7
*
Sitting with a tankard of beer on the table before him, Abel reflected. All this nonsense was telling on his health; it was easier when he was young and full of energy, but now the travelling from town to town and the worry of being found out was making him feel ill. Abel had to grab his courage with both hands and leave Hortense. He wanted a simple life and he wanted it with Mahula and Zachariah in Birmingham. He also wanted desperately to find his daughters…
Closing his eyes, Abel leaned back in his chair and followed his mind into memory. He remembered how, searching for Eugenie, he did not see the woman walking towards him until it was too late. Deftly, she had stepped to the side and they had bumped into each other. Grabbing her arms to prevent her falling, he had given his apologies. He had received a scolding that set his ears alight. In that moment, Abel realised he had found the love of his life. With Mahula, he had been so very happy and when Zachariah came along he felt he could burst with the joy of it. However, the doctor had told Mahula she could have no more children, complications with Zachariah’s birth having put paid to that. Abel had lost his daughter Eugenie and he felt Zachariah’s coming was a blessing to him.
An overwhelming guilt swept over him as he opened his eyes. Why had he been so stupid? Trying to keep two women on the go at his age was more than ridiculous. He felt guilty also about the hurt they would feel if they found out about each other. It had never been his intention to cause hurt to either woman; he had only wished to do his best by both of them.
If Abel left Hortense would she cause a scene in Wednesbury? Very definitely… it would be all over the newspapers and then Mahula would hear of it. He could just imagine the gossip – fancy that Abel Buchanan keeping two women! The headline in the local papers would read, Wealthy Business Consultant commits bigamy! For all that would be untrue – as Mahula was not, in fact, his wife – it would matter little to the tabloids. It would, however, have a drastic effect on his business dealings and his good reputation would be ruined. Abel knew he was in a precarious position whichever path he took. He had chosen the life he was living and now he was stuck with it. Abel felt he was living on borrowed time. He had no way out.
Downing his beer, he called for another. What should he do now? Abel had made up his mind, he was going home to Hortense to tell her he was divorcing her. But first he needed to get drunk!
Chapter 7
Waking with a hangover Abel was sure had been supplied by the devil, he wondered how he had negotiated the stairs to his room above the bar in the Green Dragon Hotel the night before.
Rising slowly, he splashed water on his face from the bowl on the dresser. Looking at himself in the mirror, Abel decided a hair of the dog was definitely needed and made his way carefully downstairs to the bar.
Sitting with a tankard of beer, he tried to think about what he should do next. In no fit state to be out in the town or at the Club, he elected to stay where he was… for a few hours more at least.
Feeling slightly better at last, Abel decided it was time to take a gentle ride into Birmingham. He had to face his son some time, so why not now?
Walking to the stables at the back of the Hotel, he waited while his horse was saddled by the stable boy. Riding out, Abel slowed the horse from a canter to a walk as his head still pounded from too much to drink the previous night. Abel tried to formulate a plan but thinking made his head ache even more. Zachariah would surely want an explanation as to why Abel didn’t want him working alongside him. What could he tell his son? How could he explain his aberrant behaviour? Mahula would want answers too. Abel couldn’t tell her he didn’t want his son working in Wednesbury because of his wife Hortense finding out!
His head threatening to explode, Abel walked the horse along the cobbled streets to his house in Aston Street. Reaching the building, the stable boy took the reins as Abel climbed wearily from the saddle. With a nod to the lad, he walked up the steps and into the house, mentally preparing himself for the verbal onslaught he knew would come.
Stepping into the parlour, he saw Mahula and Zachariah sitting by the fire.
‘Hello Father,’ Zachariah said with a smile.
‘Hello son,’ Abel answered, trying to paste a smile on his face. Leaning down to give Mahula a kiss, she turned her face away from him.
So I’m definitely in the dog house, he thought as he took a seat next to her.
‘Right,’ Mahula snapped before his trousers met the chair, ‘are you going to tell me what all this is about?’ Lifting her eyes from her knitting, she tilted her head towards their son.
‘What all what is about?’ Abel asked, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and playing for time.
‘Abel, don’t you play games with me!’ Mahula shot the words in his direction. ‘The lad came to see you at the Club and you all but threw him out!’
‘No…’ Abel began.
‘Yes!’ Mahula snapped before he could finish his sentence.
Abel winced and said, ‘Look, I haven’t any work for him with me.’ Then to Zachariah, ‘You’d be better off looking for work closer to home, lad.’
Seeing him nod, Abel felt relieved at least his son could see the logic of his words. He also felt ashamed for hiding the truth of his situation.
Mahula, however, was not going to let the subject rest. ‘Why were you afraid he’d be seen, Abel? What do you have to hide? Are you ashamed of us?’
Abel saw the hurt in her eyes and his heart went out to her. ‘No, of course I’m not ashamed of you… either of you…’ Abel looked at each in turn.
‘Then why?’ Mahula’s voice cracked as she spoke.
‘I… I can’t tell you… I have something to do before I can explain everything to you both.’ Abel hung his head, feeling shame engulf him once more.
Standing up smartly, Mahula threw her knitting on her chair, then turning, she jabbed a finger at him and said, ‘Fine! But I want you to leave this house… and don’t come back until you have done whatever it is that needs doing!’
Getting to his feet, Abel nodded his acceptance and walked quietly from the room, leaving his son with his mouth hanging open.
Riding back to Wednesbury, Abel thought to himself, Well that didn’t go so well! What should he do now? Should he go back to the Club? No, he couldn’t face the questioning stares from the members, his friends. Should he go home to Hortense? Certainly not! He definitely couldn’t face that option!
Ah well, he thought, spurring his horse to a canter, back to the Green Dragon it is then!
*
After drinking himself stupid in the Hotel once more, Abel finally gathered his courage and set off for Buchanan House in Wednesbury to see his wife, Hortense.
‘Mrs Buchanan went to Birmingham in the trap, sir,’ Jago, the stable lad, said as Abel jumped from his horse in front of the huge house he rarely spent any time in especially now as Orpha, his beloved daughter, had disappeared too. As often as he was able he continued to search for his missing daughters.
‘You know what for, lad?’ Abel enquired.
Shaking his head, a wry grin on his face, the boy said, ‘The missis don’t tell me nuthin’ sir.’
Nodding, Abel said, ‘Ar, her don’t tell me much more either. Leave this one saddled up, lad, I may be off out again in a minute or two.’
Dashing into the house, Abel strode into his study and locked the door behind him. He needed to check that the emeralds were still in their hiding place beneath the floorboards. Satisfied all was well with his treasure, Abel marched from the house to the stables.
‘I’m off to the Club,’ he told the stable boy, ‘you can tell the missis I’ll be home for dinner.’
The boy doffed his cap in reply and watched the master of the house - sitting skewiff in the saddle - gallop down the long driveway.
Chapter 8
Meanwhile, Hortense Buchanan steered the trap into the driveway at the house in Aston Street, Birmingham, the house she had followed Zachariah Buchanan to a few days before.
Stepping down, she looked at the large building before mounting the three steps to rap on the door. Taking a pace back, she looked over the house once more as she waited, a sneer plastered on her face. Knocking the door again, Hortense continued her wait… no one was at home it seemed.
As she turned to walk away, the sound of the door opening caused her to turn back.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman in the doorway asked.
Hortense stared at the dark-skinned beauty stood before her. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive complexion, Hortense wondered if she had foreign blood somewhere in her lineage. Was she the maid? No. She wore no uniform – in fact her clothing was of the best quality. So this is the other woman!
‘I hope so,’ Hortense answered, ‘is this the home of Zachariah Buchanan?’
‘Yes,’ the woman answered, ‘it is.’
Extending her hand, Hortense said, ‘I am Hortense Eldon and I came by to give my thanks to the young man for the help he gave me recently.’
The woman shook hands, saying, ‘Thank you, Mrs Eldon, won’t you come in?’
Stepping into the house, Hortense felt her breath catch in her throat as she cast a glance around at the opulence; it was even more impressive than her own home. Being led into the sitting room, Hortense sat on an overstuffed chair and sank into its comfort.
Hmmm, she thought, I shall order one of these on my way home! Instead she said, ‘Beautiful home you have,’ looking at the shining furniture and paintings on the walls.
‘Thank you, Mrs Eldon, Oh where are my manners… I’m Mahula Buchanan.’
Hortense felt her colour drain as the implications of the situation hit her like a lightning strike. There was no denying it now – Abel had deceived her!
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Hortense said haughtily but thought, You have no idea how pleased!
‘And I, you. Would you care for tea?’ Mahula asked.
Hortense nodded once and Mahula left the room.
Thoughts swam in her head as she waited for her tea. Mahula could be Abel’s sister of course, but he’d never talked of having any siblings. But then the boy’s name was Buchanan too… why would that be? If it was that Mahula was Abel’s sister, maybe she’d had a child out of wedlock and Abel, in his infinite kindness, had given the boy his name in order to save his sister from cruel gossip and ridicule. The fly in that ointment, however, was that Mahula had dark eyes – not green like Abel’s! If she was sister to Abel, wouldn’t they have the same features?
The sitting room door had been left open and Mahula returned placing the tea tray on the table between them. Hortense noticed the china laid out on the tray and her smile turned to a grimace. Better china than mine! she thought. However, she would remedy that on her way home too.
‘So, Mrs Eldon, you said Zachariah gave you some assistance recently?’ Mahula said as she poured tea for them both.
‘Indeed, Mrs Buchanan,’ Hortense watched the woman sat opposite her. Mahula had not corrected her on the use of her married status. ‘The lad kindly helped me with the nosebag for my horse.’
‘Ah,’ Mahula said as she leaned back in her chair, ‘he’s a good boy, Mrs Eldon, I’m proud of him.’
‘And so you should be,’ Hortense took up, ‘is he in work, might I ask?’
‘No,’ Mahula’s look turned sour, a look Hortense did not miss. ‘His father has nothing for him as yet.’
‘I see,’ Hortense said with a deprecating smile before sipping her tea.
Mahula went on, ‘I’m sure Abel will find something for him soon though.’
There it was! Zachariah was Abel’s son! As told from the lips of his mother. Hortense’s emotions ran wild. She was angry at Abel for deceiving her in the first place, then producing a son who would be party to inheriting the estate. Her jealousy of Mahula and her surroundings, which were far grander than her own, swelled in her.
For a short while the women chatted, then Hortense rose to leave. ‘Please pass my thanks to your son,’ she said.
‘I surely will, thank you for calling, Mrs Eldon,’ Mahula smiled.
“No, thank you Mrs Buchanan, this really has been most enlightening.” Hortense said with a straight face.
*
Guiding the trap back through the busy streets, Hortense mulled over the conversation in her mind. Mahula was Zachariah’s mother; Zachariah was Abel’s son and there were no other children in the family; all information gleaned from her visit to the house in Birmingham.
Mahula Buchanan, she mused though, had not introduced herself using the married title. Was she actually married to Abel or was she ‘living in sin’ with him and using ‘Mrs’ Buchanan in order to save face? Was Zachariah born to married parents, or was he born a bastard?
The questions rolled through her mind making the whole scenario more complicated the more she tried to understand it. The one thing she was sure of was… Abel would pay dearly for this – very dearly indeed!
Anger rising, Hortense flicked the reins, setting the horse to a trot as she reached the heath.
‘Damn you to hell, Abel Buchanan!’ she said aloud as the horse picked up speed.
By the time Hortense reached home, the horse was exhausted and foaming at the mouth and she was in a red-hot temper. The questioning look the stable boy gave her as he took the reins was answered with eyes that he felt sure could shoot fire and burn him to a crisp. He quickly led the horse away to see to its welfare, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
Hortense watched him go, satisfied her withering look had kept the boy firmly in his place. On her way home she had tried to make a mental inventory of what furniture should be replaced, then she made her decision… it would all go! So she had ordered the new furniture, new china and had visited the Servants’ Registry, saying she was in need of a cook and butler. Abel would baulk at this, she knew, but she could threaten to reveal his secret to all and sundry if he caused her too much trouble.
Hortense’s anger slowly melted as she began to realise that Abel’s secret might benefit her in countless ways and for as long as she wished it to. Then, when she had all that she wanted from him… she would hang him out to dry before the people of Wednesbury.
As Hortense made her way inside, she looked at the door to Abel’s study. There must be something in there that could shed light on his marriage to Mahula, if indeed a marriage had taken place.
Striding across the tiled floor of the hall, Hortense flung open the door to the study. Standing in the doorway, she made up her mind – if there was something hidden, she was going to find it!
Going to the desk, she pulled out drawer after drawer. Taking out the papers, she scanned them quickly before piling them onto a chair. With the drawers now empty, she pushed them back into place before getting to her knees and feeling the underside of the desk. Maybe there was a secret drawer. Maybe the catch to it was beneath the desktop. Feeling all the way round the desk revealed nothing and Hortense felt the frustration rise as she looked around the room. Going next to the bookshelf, she removed each book in turn, shaking it out before returning it to its original place. Nothing. She slumped into Abel’s chair by his desk.
As her eyes roamed around the room, she noticed the corner of the rug was bent back on itself. Curiosity consumed her and she grabbed the rug and threw it into the corner of the room. Looking at the floor where the rug had lain, she saw a small hole in one of the wooden floorboards. Kneeling down she stuck a finger into the hole and pulled. The board came up! Looking down into the hole the floorboard had covered, she saw a box. Lifting the box from its resting place, she took it to the desk and sat down. Putting the box on the desktop, Hortense stared at it. What was inside? Why was it hidden beneath the floor? What was it Abel did not want her to know about? Could it be the certificate of his marriage to Mahula? Could it be the certificate of his son’s birth?
She had made her decision not to waste another moment in discovering what was inside. Hortense threw caution to the wind and flipped up the lid.
Opening her hand again, Hortense counted the gems lying there – twelve. If she took one, Abel probably wouldn’t notice and then she could pilfer the rest at a more opportune moment. Replacing everything back into place, she left the study the emerald clutched tightly in her hand. Placing it in an envelope in her drawstring bag she hid the bag at the bottom of her underwear drawer in her bedroom.
Abel had returned earlier in the evening going straight to his study as usual. Now he sat by the fire reading his newspaper. He had said nothing to her regarding the missing gem, therefore she concluded he had not discovered its loss. Hortense watched him, her eyes occasionally slipping back to the book she had little interest in reading. Inwardly she was rubbing her hands together in glee at getting one over on her husband. Finally he was beginning to get what he deserved.
The tiny emerald she had stolen, she intended to sell in the Jewellery Quarter in Birmingham at the first available opportunity.
The following day there was a loud banging on the front door. Her new furniture had arrived. Instructing the delivery men to take out the old before bringing in the new, Hortense watched a new chapter of her life begin to take shape.
Simmons the Butler and Mrs Jukes the new cook would be arriving the following day, the Servants’ Registry office had informed her, so some of the old furniture was to be used in their rooms.
‘Anything of no use to me you can take away,’ she informed the men now working in her house, ‘you can have whatever you want from that which is left over.’
The men doffed their caps in thanks.