‘Hello, Festy. Have you come to fetch me?’
‘In my country we would be giving you leaves to put on your head. When you are the victor.’
‘Leaves? You mean a laurel wreath, I suppose. But I am afraid Tipsy would dispatch any leaves in short order. And so she should, she did all the work after all.’
The Countess could see that Bay was not sober, but she did not think he was quite drunk. He was in that dangerous state of intoxication where truth would erupt unimpeded by embarrassment or shame. The Countess could see that he was about to turn; she hoped that she had come in time.
She was considering how she could coax him to come with her, when Bay said, ‘You really love her, don’t you, Festy?’
The Countess nodded. ‘She is everything to me.’
‘I understand how you feel. She is … intoxicating. But I can’t be like you, Festy, in her service. Did you know about the racing colours?’
Festy nodded.
‘How could she think that I would wear them? I am not her creature!’
‘She was trying to give you something, I think. In return for so much that you have given her. Some happiness. There is not so much for her otherwise.’
Bay sat down on a bale of straw, cradling his head in his good hand. Festy sat down next to him.
‘Why did you come, Festy? Nopsca would have been so much easier.’
Festy stroked his head. ‘But that is why I had to come. You must understand what you will be doing.’
Bay sat silent for a moment, feeling the Countess’s fingers running over his hair, feeling her desire to smooth away his discontent.
‘I can’t be like you, for ever in her shadow, waiting for a smile. I want something else.’
‘You will make her very sad, Captain Middleton.’
‘Perhaps for a little while, until she finds another distraction. She still has her monkey.’
Festetics’ hand stopped stroking his hair. ‘You may leave her, if you must, but do not pretend that it will not matter to her.’
Bay found tears leaking from his eyes. ‘I am sorry, Festy.’
Festy patted him on his head and stood up. ‘You should be sorry for me, because now I shall have to tell the Kaiserin that you are going away. She will be angry with me, not you, because she will think that I did not say the right words to you. She will think that you can be coaxed to follow me like a horse with a sugar lump.’
Bay looked up at her and smiled. ‘Your English is getting quite fluent, Festy.’
The Countess snapped her fingers. ‘Any language is easy if you are Hungarian. I suppose now that you are finding the girl with the camera?’
‘I am going to try. Though I don’t suppose she wants to be found very much.’
‘It is enough, I think, that you want to find her.’
‘Perhaps.’ Bay stood up. He bent to kiss the Countess on her cheek. ‘Tell her, the Empress, that I will never forget our rides together, Festy. Please don’t forget.’
The Countess touched his cheek. ‘Do not worry, my Captain. I won’t forget.’ And walking back to the royal box, she murmured, ‘And neither will she.’
Going West
Charlotte was sitting on her trunk. Grace had told her that if she sat there for ten minutes, the contents would subside and she would be able to close it. There had been a message from the White Star Line when they had got back to the hotel. All trunks for the Britannic were to be sent down tonight, so that the ship could get away promptly on the morning tide.
She sat on the trunk waiting for the moment when the stuff inside would stop resisting and allow her to snap the lid shut. But her possessions remained stubbornly springy; they were not going to settle quietly. The easy thing would be to take some things out, but for some reason, Charlotte could not bear to do this.
Everything had happened so quickly. After Fred and Augusta’s wedding it had just been so clear what she had to do. She kept thinking of Caspar’s photographic plates of the desert. Those wide expanses of nothingness. Once she had imagined this new Charlotte, the rest had been easy. It was not so very difficult to be free if you had diamonds, and Caspar, of course. He had understood at once. He had even told Lady Dunwoody, which Charlotte could not bring herself to do. Her godmother should approve of her decision – she was the one, after all, who had encouraged her photography – but Charlotte also knew that for all her bohemian affect, Lady Dunwoody was completely conventional about what was suitable behaviour in unmarried girls. Lady Lisle was bribable, but Celia Dunwoody did not change her mind. Charlotte had been afraid that her resolve would wilt under her godmother’s disapproval. But while she was quite happy for Fred and Augusta to receive the news by letter, she knew that Lady D would never forgive her if she had not been consulted. So she sent Caspar, who could talk his way in and out of any situation.
But today at the racecourse Charlotte had seen quite how much Caspar was giving up by coming with her. The effortless way that he had put himself at the heart of the event was impressive. Caspar was meant to be at the centre of things, and she was taking him back to the periphery of the world.
There was a tap at the door and Caspar walked in, still in his tweed ulster, brandishing a sheaf of notes in his hand.
‘My winnings! One thousand pounds. Captain Middleton has been luckier for me than he has been for you.’ He was turning to close the door when Charlotte stopped him.
‘Don’t shut the door, you shouldn’t be in here alone with me if Grace isn’t here.’
‘Quite right too. I must protect my reputation at all costs. Why are you sitting on your trunk?’
‘Because it won’t close and it needs to be sent down to the quay tonight.’
‘Would you like me to sit on it with you?’
Charlotte nodded. But even their combined weights could not make the lid close.
‘Let’s sit here for a moment, perhaps something will give way.’
‘If you like.’
Charlotte looked at the notes that Caspar was still holding in his hands. ‘A thousand pounds!’
‘I placed the bet for you, of course.’
‘I know.’
‘In all it was a most successful day. I took some excellent pictures, including one of the winning jockey.’
Charlotte’s sudden movement made the trunk lid sigh and with a click it subsided into line.
‘You saw Bay? Did you tell him I was there?’
Caspar stood up. ‘I think our work with the trunk is done.’ He went over to the doorway. ‘No, Carlotta, I did not tell Captain Middleton that you had come to watch him race. I did not want to give him the satisfaction. I thought that he had won quite enough victories for the day.’
Charlotte said nothing.
‘Now you are cross with me. But I did it for your own good, and perhaps a little bit for my own satisfaction. He was so very cross. He even tried to strike me. Fortunately he had injured his arm, so I could not retaliate with honour. Which was a shame, as I would have enjoyed it.’
‘His arm? What’s wrong with his arm?’ And then, ‘But why would he want to fight you?’
‘Because I wouldn’t tell him where you were, and because I imagine he thinks that you and I have eloped.’
Charlotte turned her head away from him.
‘Oh Charlotte, did you really want me to tell him that you had been there all day hoping for a glimpse of him? Far better that he thinks that you have eloped with me and care for him not a jot. It will be easier for both of you. You will have your glorious career in America and he will have his victory and the Empress. That is really the only happy ending.’
Charlotte bit her lip. Finally she said, ‘But how do you know what a happy ending is for me? Or Bay?’
Caspar took her by the shoulders and shook her, gently but firmly. ‘I know, because I understand what it’s like to lose something you love. When Abraham died, I thought that I would never be happy again. That I would never take another picture. But I came here and found s
olace. That is why I agreed to come back to America with you, because you had the courage to start afresh. And you still do, whatever you think now.’
Charlotte looked down at the carpet where a cornucopia of fruits and flowers was erupting across the pile. She poked at a pomegranate with the toe of her boot.
‘Now I suggest that you put on your bonnet and we can take a walk down to the quay and see our trunks being loaded onto the Britannic. There is nothing worse than discovering that your belongings have gone to Argentina by mistake. So run along and fetch Grace, and then we can observe all the proprieties.’
* * *
It was getting dark outside, so Caspar waved for a hackney carriage to take them down to the docks. As he helped Charlotte inside, he said, ‘Thanks to the gallant captain, I can indulge myself.’
Charlotte and Grace sat on the seat opposite the driver with Caspar facing them. The streets were emptying now, but every so often they would pass a clump of people obviously back from the races, their best clothes rumpled – the feathers drooping and the neckties wilted – but clinging together with that sense of having shared a great moment. One or two held up their winning betting slips as talismans, proof that for one day only they were fortune’s favoured ones. On the street corners, newsboys were still shouting ‘Outsider wins National!’ and ‘Tipsy rides to Victory!’, hoping to sell their last editions to the few people left in Liverpool who had not spent the day at Aintree. As they got closer to the docks, the public houses got closer together and every one was crammed with racegoers still enjoying their day out. By the Mersey itself, the Queen Adelaide was overflowing with Irish clans who were waiting for the Dun Laoghaire boat. They were bemoaning the loss of Glasnevin, and the singing had turned mournful.
When they got to the quayside, Caspar went down to the shipping office to find out when their luggage would be loaded onto the ship. ‘I am going to tell them that I want to see each one of our trunks being carried up the gangplank. It is, I am afraid, the only way.’ Charlotte noticed that Caspar was looking unusually cheerful, as if he had some splendid secret, but then, she thought, he had just won a thousand pounds.
The two women sat in the carriage for a few minutes until Charlotte could stand it no longer. She got out and stood on the cobbled quayside. The light was almost gone now, but the steamships at the dock were lit by lanterns and they loomed like Christmas trees in the twilight, the lights wobbling as the boats rocked on the wash of a passing tug. There were people everywhere; a large crowd had gathered further down the dock to wave goodbye to a boat bound for Canada. To the left of where she stood, a crew of Chinese workers in pigtails were unloading crates from a steamer into a warehouse, passing them from hand to hand in a human chain. The streets around the hotel had already taken on the subdued temper of the Sabbath, but here at the docks the activity was unceasing. It was an utterly exotic scene to Charlotte, and she thought how ironic it was that she was going all the way to America when she had seen more strange sights in the last two days in Liverpool than she had in the rest of her twenty years.
A black sailor was approaching carrying a parrot in a cage, and Charlotte thought what a wonderful picture he would make. How much more exciting to capture life in the raw than to recreate classical scenes in Lady Dunwoody’s studio. In an instant the gloom that had enveloped her since her return from Aintree lifted, and she began to look forward to what she might do. To record the world in all its strangeness and beauty, that was a real ambition. It was something that she could actually accomplish. To make a record of the unexpected and the extraordinary, so that other girls like her, less fortunate than her, perhaps, could know that they could expect more than the confines of their drawing room or their kitchens. Standing here on the quayside, with the cold wind blowing off the water and the smell of rotting vegetables and brewing hops streaming past her, Charlotte felt suddenly and unexpectedly happy.
So she was smiling when she first heard the noise from the other end of the wharf. The crowds that had gathered to wave off the Canadian steamer were cheering now and throwing their hats in the air. They were surging around something, but it was too dark now to see clearly what it was. But then the crowd parted and Charlotte saw that it was a man riding a horse, and she realised that she could only see this because it was a white horse.
The crowd was following the white horse and they were singing. Charlotte could not make out the tune, she was staring too hard at the rider. Grace, hearing the singing, got out of the carriage and came to stand beside Charlotte.
‘Oh look, miss,’ she said, ‘it’s Captain Middleton.’
* * *
She stood there as Bay stopped in front of her, hundreds of hands ready to help the National winner to the ground and to hold the wonder horse’s head.
He walked over to where she was standing and hesitated for a moment, then took her hand and kissed it. She remembered the first time he had kissed her hand, the night of the Spencer ball.
There was a roar of approval from the crowd behind them.
‘You’re smiling, Charlotte. Does that mean you are pleased to see me?’ Bay looked so worried that she might have laughed.
‘I am happy that you won the National, I know how much you wanted to.’
‘You came to watch me?’
‘I did.’
There was a silence. Charlotte saw that underneath his greatcoat, one of Bay’s arms was in a sling.
‘What happened to your arm?’
‘My shoulder’s gone. The joint is loose. I need to get it strapped up, but I’ve been busy.’
Charlotte looked him in the eye. ‘I am catching a boat in the morning to New York, with Mr Hewes.’ There was a cough behind her, and she said, ‘And Grace.’
Grace smiled at Bay. ‘Evening, sir, and congratulations on winning. I made some money on you, so I am very grateful to you, sir. What a finish! I didn’t think you were going to do it, but suddenly that loose horse came out of nowhere and you were there.’
‘I didn’t think I was going to do it either, Grace, but sometimes things don’t turn out in the way you expect. The Governess was a faster horse but I suppose I was lucky, and Tipsy never likes to come second.’
Charlotte could bear it no longer. ‘Why did you come here, Bay?’
‘To see you, of course. I knew you were here somewhere. Chicken told me.’
‘Chicken?’
‘Our mutual friend. He told me that you were going to America, but he also told me that you were not yet married to Mr Hewes, which was a relief, because I would like to marry you, dear Charlotte, if there is any chance at all that you will have me.’
There was a whisper through the crowd as the ones at the front, who could hear what Bay was saying, relayed it to the bystanders at the back. Some wag shouted, ‘Put him out of his misery, Charlotte!’
Charlotte tried to turn away from him, but she found that she could not actually bring herself to move. ‘But I am going to America tomorrow, to take photographs,’ she said slowly, not meeting his eye.
‘Can married women take photographs?’ said Bay.
She looked at him now. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Charlotte, I’m rich now. Well, not as rich as you, but I have enough money to support us both for years. You could give your fortune away to Fred if you wanted and we would still have enough.’
‘But what about her?’
‘I promise you that I will never see the Empress again. No, that sounds as if I am giving something up, when I am not at all. I never want to see her again.’
‘Poor Empress,’ said Charlotte, thinking of the lines around the other woman’s mouth.
‘I was under her spell, but I am not any more. Can you forgive me?’
There were shouts of ‘Go on love, it’s cold out here’, from the crowd.
‘But I am going to America tomorrow.’
‘And I want to come with you. I could be the person that carries your camera.’
‘Not with your arm in a sling,
you couldn’t.’
‘But apart from that, am I a candidate for the job?’
Someone from the crowd started to sing ‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do’, and noise swelled as everyone joined in the chorus.
Charlotte put one hand on Bay’s good arm and, finding that no words came, she nodded.
‘Really, Charlotte?’
She nodded again, and then she closed her eyes as Bay put his good arm around her waist and kissed her.
The cheers from the crowd were so loud that Charlotte did not hear Caspar calling her name, until he tapped her quite hard on the shoulder.
She looked up, her mouth already swollen from Bay’s moustache.
Caspar put his head on one side and looked at Charlotte and then Bay, and then addressing Charlotte he said, ‘So, I take it there has been a change of plan.’
Bay said, ‘Charlotte has promised to marry me.’
‘It’s not her promise I am worried about, but yours, Captain Middleton. Are you going to keep your word this time?’
Bay tilted his chin at Caspar. ‘I deserve that, I suppose. All I can say is that if she will have me, I will marry her tomorrow on the boat.’
Shouts of ‘eager beaver’ and ‘steady on’ came from the crowd.
Caspar turned his back on him and bent down to look at Charlotte. ‘And you, can you really forgive him?’
‘I think so. He is here, isn’t he?’
‘But do you really want to be a wife?’
‘He says he will carry my camera.’
Caspar looked at her for a moment and then he laughed and raised his hands in a parody of benediction. ‘Then I have no choice but to give you my blessing.’
* * *
It was late when they got back to the Adelphi. Caspar had insisted on riding Tipsy. ‘I would rather ride a National winner than play the gooseberry.’
As they stood in the hotel lobby, slightly uncomfortable in their new arrangement, Bay said, ‘I must engage a room for tonight. And arrange for stabling for Tipsy. Excuse me for a moment,’ and he went to talk to the hotel manager.
The Fortune Hunter Page 41
