by Anna King
A gentle hand rested on his, and pulling himself from his reverie he looked at his wife and smiled tenderly.
‘Would you like to say a few words, dear?’ Beatrice Stewart asked, her soft blue eyes shining with pride, the pale pink dress she wore bringing out the colour in her heart-shaped face.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Clearing his throat, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
Picking up a crystal glass filled with sherry he held it aloft for a moment, then pointing it towards his son said, ‘To Hugh, newly appointed doctor of medicine. Congratulations, we are all very proud of you.’
‘To Hugh,’ Harry echoed, standing alongside his father, his glass held high above his brother’s flushed face.
‘Thank you, Father, Harry,’ Hugh replied awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the attention he was receiving. The toast delivered, the men sat down.
While the servants cleared away the last remnants of the meal, Harry leaned back in his chair and asked. ‘What are you planning to do to celebrate, Hugh? I suppose you’ll be going out with your friends from the hospital this evening to let off some steam after all those years of studying. Lord knows how you stuck it out for so long. I couldn’t have done it, but then I don’t possess your dedication. It must be a wonderful feeling to have a purpose in life – I’m still searching for mine.’
Hugh looked up sharply, his eyes searching his brother’s face for signs of ridicule, but found only an open, frank look of admiration. He felt his already red cheeks burning hotly and stammered, ‘It was no hardship for me, Harry. I… I’ve always wanted to be a… a doctor, ever since I was a young boy and we both had the measles. Do you remember, Harry?’ His voice was eager now as he recalled his childhood dream.
‘We were both lying in bed thinking we were going to die and scratching ourselves to pieces. We couldn’t even see each other because mother had closed the curtains and turned off all the lights so that the room would remain in total darkness. And then the doctor came, dressed in his morning suit and high silk hat, carrying a shiny black bag, and after a thorough examination declared that we would be up and running about the house in a week’s time. He sounded so confident, so utterly sure of himself, that I began to feel better straight away. It was then I decided what I wanted to do with my life. Don’t you remember, Harry? I told you as soon as he’d gone.’
‘Can’t say as I do, old chap,’ Harry replied, smiling. ‘I was much too busy feeling sorry for myself to take in any earth shattering revelations about your future role in life.’
Again Hugh looked for some sign that he was being made fun of but could find none.
‘Well now, if we have finished in here, Bella and I will take our leave and let you men enjoy your port. Come, Bella.’
Beatrice was already walking towards the dining room door, and after a moment’s hesitation Bella slowly followed her mother, her displeasure at having to leave the room highly evident. The room to themselves, the men lounged back casually in their chairs and waited for their glasses to be filled from the port decanter.
‘Thank you, Burrows, that will be all,’ Judge Stewart said to the elderly butler hovering by his side.
‘Very good, sir.’ The man bowed stiffly, then leaving the decanter within easy reach of his master, he left the room.
‘So, where are you going this evening, Hugh, or is it a dark secret?’ Harry laughed good-naturedly, his long legs clad in tight beige trousers sprawled under the table. Hugh jumped nervously, spilling some of the dark red wine onto the white tablecloth.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ he answered sharply. ‘I’m going to meet a few friends in a club in Piccadilly, nothing exciting I can assure you.’
‘Steady on, old chap,’ Harry exclaimed in surprise, ‘I was merely expressing an interest. I had thought you might care to accompany me to my club, but seeing as you’ve already made plans…’ He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the glass of port in his hand.
‘Sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to speak so sharply,’ Hugh mumbled apologetically, ‘nerves, I expect. I still can’t get used to the fact that I’m now a fully qualified doctor. It’ll take some time for the realisation to sink in.’
Harry stared at his brother, his keen eyes taking in the nervous trembling of the long, elegant fingers beating out a steady tattoo on the table, wondering at the real reason behind his brother’s agitation. Still, if Hugh did have something on his mind he would tell him in his own good time. Lifting his glass to his lips Harry downed his drink and stood up. ‘Well, if you’ll both excuse me I’ll be off to my club; and once again, Hugh, my deepest congratulations, you put me to shame.’
Hugh smiled weakly. He couldn’t imagine anyone or anything putting his elder brother to shame. Not like himself. God, if Harry or his father knew of his real plans for tonight… he gave an involuntary shudder. He waited a few more minutes after Harry had left the room before taking his own leave.
Alone at last Edward Stewart poured himself another liberal helping of port and lit a cigar, then settled himself more comfortably in his chair, happy to enjoy the luxury of a few more minutes’ solitude before joining his wife and daughter in the parlour.
* * *
Harry had just finished buttoning a clean shirt when his bedroom door burst open and Bella entered the room. Whirling round quickly he snatched up his brown coat from the back of a chair and shouted angrily, ‘Damn it, Bella, how many times have I asked you to knock before coming into my room.’
Taking no notice of his anger Bella sidled past him and sat down on the double bed. Then, as if she had all the time in the world, she smoothed and arranged the voluminous skirt of the white dress evenly over the bed. Fighting down his irritation at her presence, Harry pulled on his coat and snatched his black high hat from the dresser.
‘Well?’ he snapped impatiently. ‘If you’ve something you want to talk to me about, you’d better make it quick. I’m on my way out.’
Still unmoved by Harry’s open hostility, Bella beat her closed fan against the folds of her skirt. Then, her voice petulant, she answered, ‘Oh, you’re always on your way out; what about me? I never get to go anywhere except to church fetes and visiting Mother’s tiresome friends. I’m so bored. Harry, you’ve no idea what it’s like being a girl, we never have any fun.’
Harry shook his head despairingly. It was true he had no idea what it was like to be a girl, but by the same token, it had been many a long year since Bella could lay claim to that knowledge.
‘Can’t I come with you, Harry? Just this once, I promise not to be a bother.’ She was leaning forward, her hands clasped as if in prayer, the black eyes silently begging him to say yes. Harry looked hard into the plain face and turned away before she saw the distaste in his eyes. She wasn’t natural. She was his own sister, and up until a few years ago he had had a certain fondness for her, but now he had to admit she wasn’t normal. What sort of woman was she to burst into her brother’s room unannounced, and not just tonight, but many times. On one such occasion she had found him dressed only in his underclothes, a few minutes earlier and he would have been standing naked. Yet even then she had shown no embarrassment and would have entered the room if he hadn’t bundled her unceremoniously out of the door. And this business of wanting to accompany him on his evening jaunts was getting to be a habit. This was the fifth time this month she had made the same plea. He felt sorry for her, of course; it must be hell to be a woman and look like she did. But it wasn’t only her looks that had prevented her from marrying. Many an ugly woman had managed to find a husband, but their looks had been compensated for by pleasant personalities and kind natures; his sister possessed none of these attributes. Sighing heavily he turned to face her.
‘Now look, Bella, we’ve been over this before,’ he said tiredly. ‘The places I visit don’t allow women in, and even if they did I wouldn’t take you. Now please, go back downstairs and leave me in peace.’
Harry watched her lips tighten into a th
in line and braced himself for an outburst, but she continued to stare at him until with an exasperated sigh he nearly threw himself around and made for the door.
‘I wonder what Father would say if he knew how you spent your days.’ The soft words hit him in the back and he felt himself stiffen in surprise. ‘That stopped you, didn’t it?’ Her voice still soft, she rose from the bed, her skirts crackling as she walked towards him. Placing her back against the door she faced him, all signs of pleading gone. In their place was a face contorted with pain and malice.
‘I followed you one day. I was curious to know where you disappeared to every day, so I waited until you’d left the house and then I followed you in a cab.’ Her eyes were pinned to his, and when she saw his startled look she experienced a feeling of excitement.
Unable to keep the gloating tone from her voice she continued, ‘I don’t think much of the company you keep, brother dear. Why, even the cab driver was reluctant to enter the street you were obviously so familiar with. I must admit I was expecting some rendezvous with either a married woman or one of ill repute – that is the correct term isn’t it? Well, never mind, it isn’t important now.’ She waved her hand airily in his face. ‘But you see, Harry, you’ve placed me in an awkward position. I mean, do I tell Mother and Father that their son is on intimate terms with thieves, murderers and prostitutes? I haven’t left anyone out, have I? No? Very well then, let’s lump them all together and give them the collective term of degenerates; that just about sums up the description of your companions, doesn’t it?’
Harry stared down into the upturned face, his stomach churning at the undisguised malevolence in the glittering black eyes.
Then very deliberately and without a trace of anger he said calmly, ‘You’re not normal, Bella. I came to that conclusion quite some time ago when you first started to come into my room at all odd hours hoping to catch me in a state of undress. And it’s not just me, is it? You’ve been trying the same tricks with Hugh, haven’t you?’ The colour flooded her pasty skin, but he felt not the slightest trace of pity for her. She had gone too far this time. Taking hold of her arm he pulled her away from the door roughly, the action causing her to stumble on the hem of her dress. Before she could recover her balance, she found herself sprawled lengthwise on the thick-carpeted floor.
Ignoring her plight Harry opened the door. ‘If you feel it your duty to acquaint Mother and Father of my nefarious ways then do so by all means. I wouldn’t want your conscience to be troubled on my account. But before you go running with your tales, you’d best have a good story ready to explain how you came by the knowledge. And now my dear sister, I’ll bid you a good night, although I doubt very much if you will ever experience such an event.’ Doffing his hat to her he strode from the room. When she heard his carefree whistling as he ran lightly down the stairway she gritted her teeth in frustration. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair. Both her brothers and parents enjoyed an active social life, even the servants had somewhere to go or someone to visit on their days off; what did she herself have? Nothing, absolutely nothing. She had no friends, no outside interests, no life at all beyond the four walls of the house. It had always been that way, even as a child, yet she hadn’t realised she was different until Harry had been born. Her mind ran back down the years.
Bella had been so excited when her baby brother had been placed in her small, awkward arms, her parents hovering on either side of her. As she had gazed down at the tiny, puckered face, she had seen his arrival as an end to her loneliness. Instead the presence of the infant had brought home to her for the first time her own inadequacies. Even at such a young age she had known she wasn’t pretty and had felt an affinity to the ugly baby in her arms. She had watched him take his first, faltering steps, his small, pudgy hands angrily waving away any offer of help. It was about that time she had begun to notice how visitors to the house always found an excuse to pick him up and make a fuss of him, while she was patted absently on the head, much as one would treat a pet dog, and then ignored. Even her parents had seemed unable to keep their hands off him. She could remember her father coming home and her waiting to greet him, only to receive a perfunctory hug before he hurried to the nursery to play with his son.
When Hugh had arrived the following year she found herself being pushed even further into the background, leaving her hurt and bewildered. Her mother had always included her daughter in the family pastimes, careful not to let the little girl be overshadowed by her baby siblings. Then one summer afternoon she had overheard a conversation in the drawing room. Two of her mother’s friends had come to visit, and as usual Harry and Hugh were the centre of attention. Bella had left the room to fetch some toys; on her return she had heard her name mentioned and stood outside the door waiting to hear what was being said.
The woman holding Hugh had announced loudly, ‘He’s gorgeous, Beatrice, simply gorgeous, I can hardly bring myself to hand him back to you. He’s going to break a few hearts when he gets older, and Harry too I’ve no doubt.’
Beatrice had laughed gaily. ‘Oh, come now, Anne, I’ve no illusions about Harry. Even my mother’s biased eyes can see Harry is no beauty.’
‘No, I’ll agree he isn’t handsome in the conventional sense,’ the woman had replied, ‘but he has charm and an engaging personality even at his tender years. Besides, it doesn’t seem to matter so much if a man is ugly as long as he has charm, not like Bella, poor soul.’
The casual words had pierced Bella’s heart like a knife. Even her mother’s heated words in her defence hadn’t helped to ease the pain. She had returned to her room, her small body trembling with hurt and confusion, wondering why she was different from her brothers.
As she had grown older she had renewed her efforts to be liked, but without success. The two boys had very early forged a bond, and although they tolerated her presence, it was painfully clear they didn’t want her to join in their games. Made to feel like an interloper, she had resorted to bullying and telling tales in a desperate attempt to gain attention, her reward being several hard smacks to her bottom administered by her father while her mother turned away, her hands covering her eyes, unable to witness it.
To be fair to her parents, they had tried their best to make her feel loved and a part of the family, but her childish resentment had prevented her from accepting their affection. After a while, her father had given up trying to placate her surly moods and left her to her own devices. If it hadn’t been for her mother, who refused to give up on her only daughter, Bella’s childhood would have been unbearable.
She had kept her spirits high, thinking that once she reached womanhood her life would change, but here too she was cruelly disappointed. When Bella turned 18 her mother had entered into a whirl of social engagements hoping to find a husband for her only daughter. At first Bella had been excited, delighting in the new clothes and jewellery that filled her wardrobe and trinket box. Then the inward humiliation had begun all over again.
At first she had been hopeful, even gay, at the prospect of meeting someone with whom she could spend the rest of her life with. Her nights were filled with images of walking down a church aisle, dressed in a flowing white gown, a faceless man by her side – but the faceless man never materialised. Over the years she watched women of her own age being swept around a dance floor, while she sat on the side, her mother always close by. Each time she scanned the wedding announcements in The Times and saw yet another acquaintance’s name printed, she felt the bitterness grow. When her 25th birthday came around she announced that she would no longer be attending any balls or parties, proclaiming herself weary of such events. But when, three months later, her father had settled a substantial dowry upon her, Bella had been furious, seeing such an action as the final humiliation; she had done nothing to stop the news being spread, though telling herself that a bought husband was better than no husband at all. The ultimate humiliation, however, was the absence of any man willing to accept the bribe, for bribe was what it amounted to.
In a last, frantic effort to make a life for herself she had begun to try and inveigle herself into her brothers’ lives, hoping to find a prospective groom among their many friends, but here too her hopes had been dashed. Hugh was malleable enough, being too weak-willed to protest at her intrusions into his life, but Harry had steadfastly refused to pander to her wishes. Still she had persevered, driven by a desperate need to be included in their lives. The young medical students that had visited Hugh had shown clearly their lack of interest in the ageing woman who hovered round them trying to join in their conversations, until Hugh, deeply embarrassed by his sister’s constant presence, had stopped inviting his friends home. She had then switched her attentions back to Harry, prepared to swallow what little pride she had left in order to penetrate his circle of friends. Now she would try no more. Her brother’s sneering words and obvious dislike of her had left her with no more illusions. Lying on the floor, her head resting against the four-poster bed, she felt the bitterness and resentment flood over her. Why had she been born like this? Why hadn’t God bestowed upon her a sunny nature, a natural wit or a vibrant personality to compensate her for her ugliness? Again her mind screamed, that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t bloody fair.
