The Fairbairn Fortunes

by Una-Mary Parker

  On the floor below, both Laura and Lizzie slept fitfully. Laura tossed and turned, worried about Lizzie and what she’d confessed, and Lizzie lay awake, unable to stop counting the days until she could see Justin again. God, she loved him so much and she wanted him so desperately. She’d never felt like this before, and while she was deeply fond of Humphrey, her feelings for Justin were altogether different. She was burning up with desire, playing over in her mind that first time that he’d kissed her and she’d thought for a moment that she might faint. Such passion could not be denied. Justin loved her as much as she loved him and, lying beside Humphrey, she knew she had to leave him. When was another matter. She didn’t want to think about it yet. All she wanted was to get through this family Christmas.

  Justin had no ties, no responsibilities and he was a popular guest at many homes. Would he meet someone else over Christmas? An attractive woman – younger, much younger than her? He’d laughingly admitted that his mother was looking for a suitable bride for him. Every time Lizzie thought about it her heart turned to ice and she felt sick with misery. She realized with anguish that her eldest daughter Emma would, at seventeen, be a more suitable bride for a man of twenty-three. It was madness to even countenance the notion that they could run away together and live happily ever after. But she simply couldn’t stop herself from dreaming about him … His strong, young thighs made her weak with desire. The thought of his smooth hands, not freckled and lined like Humphrey’s, made her long for Justin’s caresses. He was an Adonis compared to her middle-aged husband, with his thinning hair and paunch; a good man, no doubt, but beside this passionate youth he was a tired old man. Her passion for him was long spent.

  How could she resist Justin’s ardent kisses, which sent shockwaves through her body? How could she turn a deaf ear to his tender words of love? Lizzie realized that if she had resisted the powerful rush of passion on that first occasion, when he’d been desperate to possess her, she might have died without ever experiencing real love.

  Turning over carefully in bed so as not to awaken Humphrey, she lay on her stomach, pressing herself against the hard mattress and wishing with all her heart she was with Justin.

  The following day belonged to the children, who awoke at dawn and proceeded to continue opening their presents for the rest of the day.

  ‘Children weren’t indulged like this in my day,’ Lady Rothbury observed tartly.

  ‘It only happens once a year,’ Diana said soothingly, ‘and it is a wonderful opportunity for all of us to get together.’

  Laura, who was sitting next to her mother, looked anxious. ‘I have a terrible feeling that this is the last time we’ll all be together,’ she murmured quietly.

  Lady Rothbury looked at her sharply. ‘Now don’t go spoiling everything with your “second sight”! You probably have a premonition that I’ll be dead by this time next year … well, if I am, I am, and the rest of you will have to get on with things,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

  Laura looked shocked. ‘My feelings aren’t about you at all, Mama. I have a feeling … like the one I had before the Boer War? In eighteen …?’

  ‘Eighteen ninety-nine,’ Lady Rothbury said immediately, her face grave.

  ‘I knew it was going to happen.’ Laura’s voice faltered. ‘I … I knew Henry would never come back …’

  ‘Killed on the last day of the war.’ Diana shuddered at the memory of their handsome young brother setting off with excitement to fight the Boers.

  ‘I feel now what I felt then,’ said Laura. ‘There couldn’t be another war so soon, could there?’

  Robert, who was sitting nearby, commented gravely, ‘Laura isn’t speaking from second sight. The unrest all over Europe is mounting and at any time the most serious war the world has ever known will involve all of us. Every man, woman and child. The situation couldn’t be more serious.’

  Diana looked at her husband, her expression anxious. ‘Is it really as bad as that?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t want to sound gloomy,’ Robert said carefully. ‘Not today.’ He looked at his wife’s frightened face and forced a hard smile. ‘It could be worse. Much, much worse.’

  Two

  Dalkeith House, 1914

  Caroline stomped into her mother’s bedroom at dawn with the air of an aggrieved five-year-old child.

  ‘Wake up, Muzzie,’ she demanded impatiently.

  Laura awoke with a start. A damp grey day was seeping through a gap in the curtains, making her heart sink. Not another day in this damned house, she reflected. How she hated being here. How she longed to go back to sleep and the joy of oblivion. She wished they were back in their Edinburgh flat, but every few months she felt obligated to take the child to spend some time with her father, who lived with his widowed sister, Rowena. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked drowsily.

  ‘I don’t want to go home tomorrow.’ Caroline pouted like a toddler. And her eyes, so dark and button bright, like her father’s, glinted balefully at Laura. ‘I hardly ever see Dada. Why can’t we see him more often? Aunt Rowena wouldn’t mind if we stayed just for a few more days. I don’t want to go back to that horrible little flat.’

  Laura sat up in bed and spoke gently but firmly. ‘Darling, I have work to do. We’ve already been here for five days and I have customers coming to see me tomorrow. I’m afraid I can’t stay away because we need the money.’

  Caroline stamped her foot. ‘It’s not fair. It’s always work, work, work. You use it as an excuse when you don’t want to do something. Especially if it’s something that I want to do. Dada always has time for me but you never do.’

  Laura hid her hurt and anger to avoid a scene but it was a hard pill to swallow. The last thing she needed was a contretemps in front of Walter and Rowena but the way Caroline twisted the facts and showed not a trace of gratitude was like a knife through her heart.

  The bedroom door slammed and Laura was alone again with tears pouring down her cheeks. There was no doubt that Caroline worshipped her father and she’d been very careful never to say anything critical about him. But surely the child realized that she, her mother, worked a twelve-hour day so that Caroline had a chance of following her dreams and becoming a leading ballet dancer? She wondered what the problem was. Did she indulge her and spoil her too much? Did she get her own way too often? Caroline had enjoyed a wonderful Christmas with Di, and they’d travelled to Rowena’s house in good time to spend New Year’s Eve with her father. Instead of being happy Caroline had never stopped grumbling that her cousins had everything in life and she had nothing. It had made Laura realize that no matter how hard she worked or what she did, nothing was ever going to match Caroline’s expectations. Nothing was ever as good as she’d hoped. No dress would ever be pretty enough. No party she was invited to would ever be as much fun as she thought it would. No present would ever be what she really wanted. Life would never be what she’d hoped for, Laura realized with growing concern. If her father were to inherit a fortune from an elderly relative it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Caroline.

  Drying her eyes, Laura started to pack. The sooner they got home the better. Caroline would immediately fret that their flat was too small, too cold or too hot, that she hated the neighbourhood – but it couldn’t be helped. Life could be hard but Laura had no intention of sponging off her rich sisters.

  At that moment there was a knock on her bedroom door.

  ‘Come in!’ Guessing it was Rowena, she forced herself to sound cheerful.

  Rowena came into the room and closed the door quietly behind her. She spoke in hushed tones. ‘Caroline has asked if you and she can stay for a few more days. Walter told her that it would be fine.’

  ‘That’s very naughty of her,’ Laura replied firmly. ‘I’ve already told her I have to get back to Edinburgh because I have customers coming to see me.’ She sighed. ‘How typical of Walter to tell her we could stay on.’

  Rowena shrugged. ‘You know what he’s like. He’s incapable of saying “no
” to anyone or anything.’

  ‘How true. I’ll finish packing and then we’ll be off.’

  Downstairs in the breakfast room, Caroline was hanging on to Walter’s arm, crying petulantly, ‘It’s not fair. I want to stay with you, Dada! Why can’t I live with you? Why can’t I stay with you for ever and ever?’

  ‘Yes, well, maybe when you’re a bit bigger,’ Walter replied weakly.

  ‘Can I then? I hate living with Muzzie. I’m never allowed to do anything I want. She’s really horrible to me.’

  Laura walked into the room at that moment and she pretended she hadn’t overheard what had been said.

  ‘Laura, do you really have to leave today?’ Walter asked.

  ‘You know perfectly well that I have to get back to work,’ she said determinedly. ‘Rowena and I worked out the dates long ago, and I’ve explained to Caroline that work comes before pleasure.’

  Their daughter gave a little pirouette and said smugly, ‘Dada has just told me that I can stay here whenever I want when I’m bigger.’

  Rowena looked up sharply but said nothing. Knowing Caroline was trying to get a rise out of her, Laura also remained silent. The sooner they got home the better, she reflected.

  Three

  Edinburgh, 1914

  Laura settled down to work again with an enormous sense of relief. Caroline was back at school and ballet classes, which she loved, and her discontent had seemed to fade once she was back in their old routine. It was obvious to Laura that staying with their well-off relations had unsettled Caroline. How could they not?

  January was a quiet month in her business, apart from a few rich customers who always wanted new gowns to wear to big social occasions.

  This was when Laura started to plan ahead for the coming year, attempting to predict the changing fashions. By the end of the month she’d be ordering suitable fabrics for dresses, jackets and lightweight coats.

  What would the style be? She loved designing more than anything; she had always had dreams of being a fashion designer with a dozen young women doing the actual cutting, fitting and stitching. She’d heard that one day sewing machines would be electric and so much quicker. Meanwhile, she had to slog away and be thankful that garments no longer had to be made entirely by hand.

  She decided that after a freezing, icy winter, no one was going to want garments made of wool, tweed or velvet, or fur-trimmed brocade in rich colours. The materials should echo the soft loveliness of spring. Orders for fabric must be given to the manufacturers in good time and she must be able to provide a wide choice, to avoid the embarrassment of two of her ladies turning up at a function in the same material.

  How refreshing it would be to create gowns of delicate fabric, and if they were the pastel shade of spring flowers that would be de rigueur. Now she visualized satin that was the colour of primroses and silk in that tender pink of a hyacinth. Then there was the blue of bluebells. In her mind’s eye she could see a ball gown in chiffon, drifting and fluttering as the wearer moved. The ideas were coming thick and fast now and she reached for her box of pencils and her pad of artists’ paper. With growing excitement, she started sketching. This was the part she enjoyed the most. A few minutes later she’d drawn a dress of stylish but restrained elegance – perfect for her younger customers who could still show their arms and necklines. A few minutes later she’d completed a drawing for the older ladies, with long sleeves and a neckline softened by frills.

  Smiling to herself, Laura continued to design more dresses, skirts, pretty blouses and well-cut coats and jackets. The cut was of paramount importance, along with the quality of the material. She particularly liked cutting on the cross, so that a garment appeared moulded to the body.

  That night when Caroline was asleep in the little room they shared, she made a list of women who had been recommended to go to her. From the business point of view, the next twelve months looked highly profitable. Two of her young customers were getting married and their mothers would no doubt need splendid outfits. There would likely be bridesmaids to be dressed, not to mention the bridal gown and veil.

  It was also time she began to charge just a little bit more. Industrialists’ wives now wanted to dress like the gentry. They certainly had the money but it was the cachet of going to Lady Laura, daughter of an earl that really counted, because she had such good taste.

  Even though the future looked very good, with enough income to keep Caroline at her ballet classes, there still lurked at the back of Laura’s mind a dark shadow of fear and uncertainty. She’d learned long ago that nothing in life could be depended on.

  The next morning a letter from Lizzie arrived, and Laura slipped it into her handbag until she’d taken Caroline to school. The child was so inquisitive and questioned her all the time about everything and anything. Laura knew it was because of the utter shock she must have felt on the day Walter was declared bankrupt, when they had helplessly watched as the bailiffs ordered the men to fill their lorry with the entire contents of their beautiful home. To her dying day she would remember the expression of incomprehension and unhappiness when Caroline saw her favourite toys being tossed casually away.

  Lizzie and Beattie had told her she was spoiling Caroline, but Laura felt a great need to make up to Caroline all that she’d lost. Perhaps she was a bit spoilt, but they hadn’t seen the desolate look in her eyes or the droop of her mouth on the day she had lost her home and virtually her father too.

  Sitting down when she was alone, Laura ripped open the envelope and read Lizzie’s letter.

  Dearest Laura,

  I’m in a terrible state and I don’t know what to do. Humphrey picked up a book I was reading and he found a letter from Justin between the pages. All he said was ‘enjoying the book?’ but he knows now. Justin wants me to run away with him and he’s given me a month to make up my mind. I desperately want to go with him and a part of me feels that I’ll fall apart if I don’t take this chance. I love him so much but I’m frightened of the future, too … I’ve never felt like this before over any man and I can’t sleep at night for thinking about him. Laura, my darling sister, advise me. Dare I risk everything and go?

  Love,

  Lizzie

  Laura read it several times, committing it to memory before going into her small kitchen, reaching for a box of matches and setting fire to it over the sink. Then she turned on the taps and the fragments of black paper disappeared down the drain. Whatever happened, Caroline must have no knowledge of this family crisis.

  That night, she wrote a long and sympathetic letter to her sister, where she tried to point out the pros and cons of what she was considering. She gently suggested:

  I think you and Humphrey should go for a romantic holiday. Just the two of you. Tell him you’ve always wanted to visit Venice. Tell him you’re exhausted and you’d love it if you could be alone together without the constant chatter of your daughters, and running the house. I think it’s only fair to try and save your marriage. Try and think of it as a second honeymoon …

  The next morning she posted the letter and prayed Lizzie would see sense. Humphrey was a good, kind man and he didn’t deserve the heartbreak of being deserted for someone twenty years younger. More importantly, Margaret, Isabel, Rose and Emma should never have to suffer the grief and the scandal of having a mother with a bad reputation.

  ‘That should do the trick,’ Laura muttered under her breath as she dropped her reply into the letterbox.

  London, 1914

  It looked like a large private house in Hans Place but it was a private hotel. Very private. Lizzie came out of the side entrance of Harrods and looked both ways before she crossed the street. Making sure there was no one she knew around, she hurried over to the entrance of the hotel, where the door opened as if by magic. Slipping inside she heard the concierge say, ‘Mr Hammond is in room seven, madam.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lizzie replied under her breath, thanking God that Justin was there already.

  Hurrying along th
e now-familiar corridor that led to room seven, her heart was thumping with excitement and nerves.

  As if he sensed her imminent arrival, the door opened and a moment later she was in his arms as he held her close. Then he kissed her with such passion she felt weak. Leading her to the large bed, he pulled her down beside him.

  ‘My darling one,’ he whispered softly as he gently unbuttoned her coat. Lizzie arched her back, slipping off her buckled shoes. Justin lingered over undressing her, and the longer he took the more feverishly she desired him. Groaning with longing, she reached out for him and with lightning speed he tore off his own clothes. Then, naked, he lay down beside her, whispering words of love.

  ‘I love you too,’ she murmured, stroking his strong, young body. It flashed through her mind that whatever the future held he belonged to her in this moment, body, mind and soul, and she would remember it for the rest of her life. Their mingled cries of passion rose to a crescendo and then they lay, sated and spent.

  ‘Have you decided what to do?’ he asked eventually.

  Lizzie propped herself up on her elbow and looked beseechingly into Justin’s face. ‘How can I leave my family?’ she asked despairingly. ‘I love you with all my heart, and of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I have a duty to stay and look after my daughters …’ She buried her face in his chest and murmured, ‘Can’t we continue to meet secretly?’

  Justin averted his face to hide his disappointment. ‘I’m an all or nothing sort of man. This isn’t fair on Humphrey or your family. I want to marry you and have you bear my children …’ His voice broke and he got up from the bed and started dressing hurriedly.

  Lizzie sat up on the bed, looking slightly alarmed. ‘Give me a little longer, darling. I love you so much. I’m sure we can work out something …’