The Golden Chain

by Margaret James

  They caught up with their quarry as he crossed the orchard. They ran up to him, gasping, out of breath.

  ‘Michael, wait!’ cried Rose.

  ‘Rose?’ As he turned to face them, Michael’s blue eyes narrowed. ‘Rose Courtenay?’

  ‘Rose Denham, as I believe you know.’ Rose met his gaze and smiled. ‘It must be fifteen years or more since we – ’

  ‘At least.’ But then, recovering from his shock, Sir Michael grinned sarcastically. ‘I know it’s polite, on these occasions, to tell a woman she hasn’t changed a bit. But time has not been very kind to you.’ Then he turned to Daisy. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again. I can’t think why you’ve – ’

  ‘We’ve had a letter from your lawyer,’ interrupted Rose. ‘I’m sure you know we’ve had a cliff fall on our land. We’ve lost part of the road that goes to Charton. So I’ve come to ask you to let us use your road, until we can get something sorted out.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Michael asked.

  ‘You’re our neighbour, and neighbours help each other, or they should,’ said Rose. ‘Michael, Alex and I have never tried to injure you, and so – ’

  ‘You have a short memory, Rose,’ said Michael. ‘I have nothing more to say to you.’

  He turned to go back to the house. But Daisy stepped in front of him, so if Michael wanted to escape, he’d have to dodge past her then run away. ‘Why are you being like this?’ she cried. ‘Just because Mum wouldn’t marry you?’

  ‘I don’t have to talk to you,’ snapped Michael.

  ‘But I’m your daughter!’

  ‘You are not my daughter.’

  ‘Of course I am!’ Daisy met Michael’s cold, blue glare. ‘Just look at me! Look at my hair, my eyes, my nose. It’s obvious I’m yours.’

  ‘Rose, take your brat away.’

  ‘I know what happened now.’ Daisy glared back at Michael. ‘Mum didn’t tell me, Phoebe did, and she’s willing to sign an affidavit to say you are my father.’

  ‘Who would believe a chorus girl?’ sneered Michael.

  ‘Everyone would love to believe a chorus girl,’ snapped Daisy. ‘Especially if the man who seduced her is a baronet.’

  ‘So who exactly are you going to tell?’

  Daisy thought, if I should mess this up, my family will be ruined. ‘If you don’t allow us to use your road,’ she said to Michael Easton, ‘I’ll go to all the papers. I’ll tell The News of the World, The Daily Mirror, and The Times. I’ll give them such a story, and they can have photographs, as well.

  ‘Sir Michael, just imagine it. One of the largest landowners in Dorset’s sordid secret. Love child and her mother left to starve. You’ll look cruel, vindictive and ridiculous.’ Then something Ewan had mentioned long ago flashed back into her mind. ‘You want to be Lord Lieutenant of the county – ’

  ‘Who told you that?’ demanded Michael.

  ‘Never mind who told me,’ Daisy said. ‘But if you don’t let my parents use your road, by the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll be a laughing stock. As for your chances of being a magistrate, or Lord Lieutenant – they won’t even let you shake a collecting tin on flag days.’

  ‘What about you?’ growled Michael. ‘After all that, you’d lose whatever threadbare reputation you might have.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be stupid, I have no reputation,’ Daisy said. ‘I’m a bastard, aren’t I? I’m an actress, too. Actresses will go with anyone for half a crown. What did you pay my mother?’

  ‘Get off my property.’

  ‘I’ll tell Daniel Hanson that you fucked his girlfriend, and I was the result!’ Daisy blushed, astonished at herself for using such a filthy word, but gratified by the look of utter horror on Michael Easton’s face. ‘He’s a London gangster, did you know? He runs all sorts of vice rings, the police are in his pocket, he breaks people’s legs, and he’d break yours.’

  Michael Easton turned to glower at Rose. ‘You put her up to this,’ he spat.

  ‘All Rose has done is love me, look after me and treat me as her own.’ Daisy glowered back at Michael. ‘I’ll take you to court. I’ll claim a share of your estate. Phoebe and I will drag your name through so much muck and mud – ’

  ‘You’d get that whore back from whatever gutter you found her in?’

  ‘Yes, I would. Phoebe isn’t scared of you. She and I’d put on a damned good show for all your neighbours, and the press. It would be goodbye Buckingham Palace garden parties, Royal Ascot – ’

  ‘Oh, Daisy, careful,’ cautioned Rose.

  But Daisy took no notice. ‘If you don’t let us use your road,’ she cried, in desperation, ‘I’ll marry Ewan Fraser!’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ewan couldn’t believe how light and happy he felt now, how relieved he was to be free of Sadie and mad Mungo. He need never see either of them again.

  He gave up trying to interest managements in his adaptations, and wrote to every theatre in the land, offering to do anything and everything – shift scenery, make properties, write short dramatic pieces, farces, full length plays – as well as act.

  He thought of Daisy constantly, and wondered about writing. But then he thought – I must have something firm to offer, something which will tempt her, make her want to act again, even if she doesn’t particularly want to act with me.

  He hadn’t wanted to marry Sadie, they’d have driven each other round the bend, he knew that now. But, given half a chance, he’d marry Daisy.

  Michael stared, then suddenly looked so close to losing all his self control that Daisy was glad he didn’t have a gun. ‘I’m the head of this family!’ he cried, ‘and I’ll forbid it!’

  ‘We can wait until we’re twenty-one!’ Daisy shouted back defiantly, determined to outface him. ‘I mean it. I’m not making idle threats. I shall do everything I said!’

  ‘All your children should be in asylums.’ Michael scowled at Rose. But then, all of a sudden, the fight went out of him. ‘I’ll speak to my solicitor,’ he muttered. ‘Now, the pair of you, get off my land. Or I shall call the police and have you both arrested.’

  ‘What about the boys?’ persisted Daisy. ‘I assume you’ll drop the charges against them?’

  ‘I’ve already said I’ll speak to my solicitor,’ hissed Michael, and he turned and stalked back to the house.

  ‘We did it, Mum!’ gasped Daisy, as she and Rose ran down the gated road, not even stopping to catch their breath until they were safely back on their own land. ‘He’ll see the sense of it, I’m sure. He won’t risk all that scandal just to stop the egg man coming.’

  ‘You did very well, my love, I’m very proud of you.’ Rose clutched at her side, trying in vain to rub the stitch away. ‘But that Mr Hanson – do you really know him?’

  ‘I was in his London show. I told you, Mum. But I walked out on him.’ Daisy grimaced. ‘So I hope he’ll never track me down, especially if he’s as mean as everybody says.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, love, I’m sure your dad could deal with him. Alex would never let anyone hurt you. But are you going to marry Ewan?’

  ‘No, don’t worry, Mum.’ Daisy looked down at her finger nails. ‘Actually, I’d love to marry Ewan,’ she confessed. ‘But he doesn’t want me. He’s in love with someone else.’

  ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Daisy shrugged. ‘There’ll be other men and other opportunities for me.’

  ‘Talking of opportunities, what will you do now, dear?’ Rose enquired. ‘I mean about your acting. The new season’s coming, companies will be casting – ’

  ‘I think I should stay here in Dorset,’ Daisy said. ‘I can see Dad still isn’t very well. But he goes out in all the wind and rain, and he’s still trying to do everything himself.’

  ‘I do h
elp him, sweetheart,’ Rose said gently.

  ‘Yes, Mum, I know you do, and you look like death warmed up yourself. You need some decent help. A couple of farm labourers full time, a proper cowman. A woman to come in every day, collect the eggs, and see to all the hens.’

  ‘We can’t afford it, Daisy, you know that.’ Rose shrugged. ‘Since the war, this country has collapsed. No farmers have it easy these days, and hundreds have sold up. So, compared with some, we’re doing well.’

  ‘Why didn’t you marry Sir Michael?’

  ‘I fell in love with Alex.’

  ‘But, Mum, you could have been so rich! You could have been the lady of the manor, you could have had expensive clothes, and holidays abroad, and everything. Maybe you could have made him kinder, too. Lady Easton must be bad for him.’

  ‘You’re thinking how nice it might have been to grow up in great luxury, with your natural father and with me – is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘No, Mum, no!’ Daisy was horrified. ‘My dad’s my father, and nobody could have a better one.’

  ‘I know.’ Rose smiled and shook her head, remembering. ‘When Michael was denying you were his, and Phoebe was so anxious to put it all behind her and run off to America, Alex suggested he and I adopt you.’

  ‘Otherwise, I’d have grown up in an orphanage, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, I dare say.’ Now Rose met Daisy’s gaze. ‘I’ve never regretted anything, you know. I couldn’t love you better if you’d been my natural child. I couldn’t have been happier than I’ve always been with Alex.’

  ‘I’m so glad you married Dad,’ said Daisy.

  ‘I am, too.’ Rose sat down on a stile. ‘But nothing is ever black and white, you know.’

  ‘Why, what do you mean?’

  ‘You say perhaps I could have made Michael kinder, but I hurt him, too.’ Rose looked down at her hands. ‘If Lady Easton is a bitch, it’s partly down to me.’

  ‘How do you make that out?’

  ‘Daisy, come here, sit down.’ Rose gazed across the headland. ‘Chloe – Lady Easton, as she’s been for years – was married to Alex once.’

  ‘What?’ Daisy frowned.

  ‘But it was a case of having to get married. She was pregnant.’

  ‘What happened to the baby?’

  ‘It was stillborn.’ Rose turned to look at Daisy. ‘I’m not proud of this, you understand. So anyway, after that poor baby died, Chloe and Alex grew apart. He was in the army, and she was here in Dorset. He was trying hard to stay alive, and that took all his energy. She believed he didn’t love her, and eventually I don’t suppose he did.’

  ‘Then you met Dad?’

  ‘Alex and I had known each other as children. We were out of touch, but we met again during the war, when I was a nurse and he was wounded, and – things happened.’

  ‘So you broke up their marriage?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ admitted Rose. ‘Then, after the war, Chloe met Michael, and I guess the two of them …’

  ‘They both hate you and Dad for being so happy, for having children, for having all the things they don’t or can’t. So maybe they don’t love each other? What they have in common is that they hate you?’ Daisy shrugged. ‘It’s getting late. We’d better go and help Dad get the cows in. Mr Hobson isn’t here today.’

  Daisy became the chicken woman, cowman, general help. As Rose had said, it was bad for farmers everywhere, but somehow they survived. So she felt she was doing the right thing, practically for the first time in her life.

  One day, as she was looking for some change, she emptied out her handbag on her bed, collecting up the sixpences and threepences and farthings that had got themselves stuck in the creases in the lining.

  Two and sevenpence, she thought, it’s not a fortune, but it will buy some flour, some sugar …

  Then, as she felt around the lining, hoping to find another silver sixpence, her fingers chanced on something else. She realised it was Ewan’s golden chain, which she had hidden inside the bag.

  She fished it out and held it up. She watched it glinting in the sunshine, remembering when he’d put it round her neck, and she had promised she’d never take it off. I’m good at breaking promises, she thought. I do it all the time.

  So should she send it back to him? She didn’t know where he was right now. But she could post it to his mother in Glen Grant. Then she wondered if he’d want to have it, or if he wouldn’t want to be reminded of the past. These days, she and Ewan were nothing more than friends, and Sadie was the woman he loved now.

  She’d think about it, she decided. In the meantime, she fastened it round her neck.

  In her spare time, which didn’t amount to much, Daisy sang at weddings, in local concert parties organised by Miss Sefton, and sometimes she went dancing at the village hall. The word had soon got round about how Daisy Denham had stood up to the local bully, and she found everybody in Charton wanted to be her friend.

  She took out a subscription to The Stage and now and then was tempted to go to an audition. But she was afraid of what might happen if she went away again.

  ‘I’m fine,’ insisted Alex, whenever she told him he was looking tired, that she’d see to the cows or dig up some potatoes for the kitchen. ‘I don’t want a lot of women fussing round me, wrapping me up in cotton wool.’

  But Daisy read the papers, and she’d noticed from the obituaries that servicemen who had survived the war also had a habit of dying fairly young. There were a lot of widows in Dorset, and plenty of other women who had helpless invalids for husbands. If anything should happen to Alex, she could not leave Rose to cope alone. She’d have to wait until the twins were older – very much older – to start her life again.

  At Miss Sefton’s invitation, she started giving dancing classes in the village hall, and sang in the Messiah in Dorchester. Rose cut out the notices which praised Miss Denham’s pure soprano voice, and stuck them in her scrap book. ‘The Dorset Echo’s music critic is in love with you,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think so, Mum,’ said Daisy. ‘Where’s the post today?’

  ‘Here,’ said Rose. ‘There’s only one for you.’

  Daisy took the envelope and opened a letter from a girl who had been with the company in Leeds. As she read, she felt her heart sink like a stone in water, spooling down and down. So that was it – the end of hopes, of dreams, of everything.

  ‘What’s the matter, love?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Oh, nothing, Mum.’

  ‘You look upset.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Daisy didn’t speak, but screwed the letter up, pushed it into the red heart of the fire and watched it burn to ashes.

  ‘You miss the theatre, don’t you?’ Rose asked Daisy, as they fed the chickens one bright sunny morning, while Mrs Hobson looked for eggs.

  ‘No,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Darling, I think you do.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Daisy threw the last handful of corn to a little scrum of clucking hens. ‘Anyway, you never wanted me to be an actress. So why are you always going on about it now?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to be away from home, so young and inexperienced,’ said Rose. ‘It’s very hard to let your children go. But now you’re older, if it’s what you really want – ’

  ‘It’s not – not any more,’ lied Daisy.

  ‘You’ll make some lucky farmer a fine wife,’ said Mrs Hobson, bestowing the highest praise.

  ‘I don’t want to be anybody’s wife.’

  ‘Oh, go on with you,’ said Mrs Hobson. ‘You’d have such lovely babies. It would be criminal if you stayed a spinster. There are a dozen men in Charton who’d be glad to have you.’

  ‘A lot of them are tenants of Michael Easton, and he hates me.’

  ‘Well, there’s nobody round here like
s him. If you went looking for a man Sir Michael Easton liked, and who liked him back, you’d have your work cut out. Mrs Denham, talking of the Eastons, have you heard what they’re saying in the village?’

  ‘No,’ said Rose. ‘I haven’t been to the village for a week. I don’t take any notice of the local gossip, anyway.’

  ‘You can tell me,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Hannah Ward, she happened to be – ’

  ‘Listening at the door again?’ said Rose.

  ‘She happened to hear Sir Michael and Lady Easton having words. Lady Easton, she was going on at him like a fishwife, Hannah reckoned, telling him he’d overreached himself, what had he been thinking, they’d have to sell the water meadows and all the woodland now, and if Mr Denham got wind of anything, he’d be so pleased!’

  ‘Go on,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Then Sir Michael told her to shut up. Then she said she hated him. She couldn’t think why she’d ever married him. He said if she didn’t want to be married any more, she knew what she could do.’

  ‘What did she say then?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘She slammed out of the room and knocked poor Hannah flying. Hannah was bringing in a tray with morning coffee on it, and all the china got smashed to smithereens, and Lady Easton said she wasn’t needed any more. She could go to the workhouse, or whatever they call it these days.’

  ‘Oh, poor Hannah!’ Rose looked at Mrs Hobson. ‘If Lady Easton meant it, if they turn her out, we’ll have to see what we can do.’

  ‘Mrs Denham, dear,’ said Mrs Hobson, ‘Hannah Ward has never been your friend, and you’re too soft for your own good.’

  As the weeks went on, it seemed things went from bad to worse at Easton Hall. Some rooms were being shut up, the servants told the people in the village. Sir Michael was looking worried, and Lady Easton lost her temper every day.

  ‘I was looking through The Stage last night,’ said Rose, one autumn afternoon.

  ‘I must cancel my subscription. That would save a bit of cash.’ Daisy put her feet up on the fender of the kitchen stove. ‘It’s a waste of money. I hardly ever read it.’