A Collar of Jewels

by Pamela Pope

  But Uncle Julian was not likely to help her either. Well, she was glad she knew so that she was saved the embarrassment of approaching him. Unfortunately, that left her with only Oliver Devlin but he was infinitely preferable to anyone she’d come across yet in this country.

  She was turning the flowered porcelain doorknob when her grandfather called her.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded. She turned to see him with his feet over the side of the bed as he struggled to stand. ‘Why do you need comfort?’

  ‘Yesterday my husband left me.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You’re the most bullying female I’ve ever met.’

  ‘And you’re a rude, ungrateful old man.’ Her words were harsh, but tears filled her eyes. She dashed them away hurriedly, but not before he’d noticed.

  ‘I didn’t mean to be so wretched.’ She got a surprising half-apology. ‘What did you say your name is?’

  ‘Ellie.’

  ‘Have you got any money?’

  ‘No, my husband took it.’

  ‘Then what the hell’s the use of you staying here? I’ve not got enough to feed myself, never mind you.’

  ‘I’m not asking you for any. And you could afford to feed yourself better if you didn’t waste so much money on brandy. It’s killing you.’

  ‘I please myself what I do.’

  ‘So it’s no use trying to help you. I’ve got enough problems of my own without taking on yours.’

  ‘Get out of my house then.’

  They faced each other with hostility, continuing to shout cruel words which could not be retracted. And then they stopped. Ellie saw his eyes shining with emotional tears which he would hold in check as fiercely as she was doing. Deeper than that she saw his unvoiced cry for deliverance from the enemy which gripped his thin body and ruled his life. He needed her as no one else had ever done; not Papa or Mama or Drew; certainly not Max. He was as helpless as William, and she was turning her back on him.

  The silence was profound for several seconds. Then: ‘You’re the first person who’s cared anything about me in years,’ he quavered. ‘Don’t go.’

  She was slow to answer. He was too unpredictable to be trusted. ‘If I stay I shall make you eat porridge.’

  ‘It’ll make me sick.’

  ‘What do you like then?’

  ‘Onion soup,’ he said. ‘For breakfast.’

  Her lips quivered at the humour. ‘All right. I make a very good onion soup.’

  She went to the tall, gaunt man in his nightshirt, and kissed his cheek. He was trembling. Arms which were unaccustomed to holding another closed round her, and they stood together, drawing strength from each other. ‘You’ll stay then?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘Yes, Grandfather,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay.’

  *

  ‘It’s a mistake you’re making,’ said Oliver, when he heard of her decision to remain at Chesterman Court.

  It was evening and the fire burning in the drawing room did nothing more than provide an occasional flame. There was no warmth in it, nor any cheer, and September seemed like midwinter in the chill house.

  ‘What choice have I got?’ asked Ellie. ‘Julian Cromer sounds cruel and insensitive, and I doubt if he’ll want to know me. Aunt Beatrice is dead, and my grandfather needs someone to look after him. I’m going to break him of his dependence on alcohol.’

  ‘You’ll never do it.’

  ‘I will. He’s already promised he’ll give it up if I stay.’

  ‘A drunk will promise anything. Oh, he might make an effort right enough, but if you threaten to leave he’ll blackmail you with talk of taking to drink again. You’ll be tied to him, so you will, and that’s no life for a girl like you.’ She sighed. ‘Then tell me the alternative.’

  Oliver poked the meagre blaze and the soot-covered fireback became studded with glowing red sparks.

  ‘You can take your chance with me,’ he said. ‘I can offer you better than this.’

  The sparks glittered like jewels, then one by one died out. ‘It’s kind of you, but I think not.’

  ‘There’s been no chance to tell you that my dear old mother died while I was in Ireland. I was blessed with being able to see her at the last.’

  Ellie’s warm heart went out to him at once. ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry.’ She touched his hand. ‘And here am I burdening you with my troubles when you’ve enough of your own.’

  ‘She left me her money. I’m a wealthy man, Ellie. I’ll be more than happy to look after you, so I will.’

  ‘I won’t go back to America.’ She emphasised it. ‘I won’t. And I can’t keep you here. You must be longing to get home to Galina. I haven’t told you that she’s the most beautiful child.’

  His expression changed, as if a cloud passed over his sunny nature. He looked down, his spirits dampened by sadness at the mention of his daughter, and Ellie understood him better than she could have done a short time ago.

  ‘I can’t see Galina,’ he said. ‘It’s why I went to Ireland. She reminds me too much of Katrina.’

  ‘But surely that’s good?’

  ‘To some it would be. To me it’s unbearable.’

  They talked intimately for a while, the consolation of shared confidences washing over them, but Ellie knew that this was a friendship of convenience and she couldn’t impose on him any more.

  Presently Frobisher announced that dinner was ready.

  ‘Does Sir Robert come down for dinner?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘No, madam. I take it to his room.’

  ‘Then please take mine there as well. I’ll be eating with him.’

  ‘Very good, madam.’ The man’s training guaranteed no show of surprise, but a slight sniff betrayed his disapproval.

  Her grandfather had been drinking again, but he was not in the dire state of the previous evening. To her surprise he was dressed, and she saw that he had once been a distinguished man, even though his clothes were old and hung loosely on his emaciated figure. He was sitting at the table in a high-backed chair, a decanter and glass beside him.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘I thought we’d eat together as Oliver is out tonight,’ she said, sitting next to him. ‘In a few days I shall expect you to come down to the dining room.’

  Frobisher had followed her in. He placed the tray in front of her, flicked a damask napkin out of its folds and tucked one corner in the buttonhole of Grandfather Cromer’s lapel.

  ‘The young lady insists, sir.’

  The dinner was roast duck. Ellie felt no more like eating than he did, but in coaxing him she found a small appetite herself, and though it took a long time the two plates were cleared. While they ate she asked him questions. She found out that Aunt Beatrice had died of consumption five years earlier, and that her death had left him heartbroken.

  ‘Bea was a good daughter,’ he said. ‘She stayed by me, which was more than Sibyl did. Sibyl never forgave me for not being a gentleman. Called herself “Sibylla”.’ He put on a different accent to mimic Mama’s airs and graces. Ellie laughed at the accuracy. ‘When that Yankee came along she couldn’t get away fast enough.’

  Tales of her mother went on until the next course came. ‘Now tell me about my Uncle Julian. Where does he live?’

  ‘Southampton.’

  The very name of the place made Ellie shudder, and Grandfather Cromer’s monosyllabic answer hung in the air waiting for modification. None came.

  She continued to probe. ‘What does he do?’

  ‘Do? DO? Julian gets fat on my money, that’s what he does. Him and his prissy little wife and precocious brats.’

  ‘He went into the business you started, then. Surely you must have been pleased about that?’

  ‘My son would never have lasted five minutes in my business. He hasn’t got the guts.’ He made to pour himself another drink, but Ellie moved the decanter just out of reach. ‘G
ive me that damned brandy.’

  ‘When you’ve finished your dinner you can have it — but not to get drunk on.’

  ‘I’ll do what I like.’

  ‘Not if I’m here to look after you. Now tell me more about Julian.’

  ‘You’re an interfering, nosy creature.’

  The old man was obstinate, but after a while she was able to piece together the reason for his antipathy, and the more she heard the more she was inclined to think he had every right to feel the way he did.

  Sir Robert Cromer had made his fortune by taking risks which would have made lesser men quail. He had become a contractor at a time when the railway industry was at its height and he had employed so many men he’d lost count. On one deal alone he had made enough money to buy this house and furnish it like a palace.

  ‘I suppose I behaved badly,’ he chortled. ‘On that one deal I put in a tender for seventeen thousand pounds, then thought I’d round it up to twenty.’

  ‘You’re a wicked old scoundrel.’

  ‘That wasn’t all. Overnight I decided the job was worth double that, so next day to be on the safe side I doubled it again. Would you believe I finally got eighty thousand for that contract? Those were the days, right enough!’

  ‘How could you do it?’ said Ellie.

  ‘The laugh was I hadn’t a penny in the bank when the contract was signed. It was all bluff, but it paid off.’ He stabbed a piece of meat with the point of his knife. ‘Julian had everything on a plate.’

  ‘Is he connected with railroads too?’

  ‘Owns a company building rolling-stock — Court Carriage Works.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Southampton, where else? The company belonged to that sanctimonious Millicent’s father, and Julian stepped right in.’

  Bit by bit Ellie pieced together a picture of her mother’s brother, and it was not pleasing. Money had been lavished on him as a child; nothing denied him as he grew up and went to public school. He had taken wealth for granted, and when contracting became less lucrative, he’d had no good word to say for his father. Sir Robert Cromer had always run his business from 5 Chesterman Court with hardly any books, relying mainly on his retentive memory, so the only way Julian could learn to carry on in the same line would have been by word of mouth, and for that he’d had no patience or interest. By 1880, when he came of age, the great railways of Britain were mostly completed and there remained only smaller projects for which to contract. It was the end of an era, but Julian had seen it as the personal fall of a man for whom he’d always had scant respect, and the subtle persecution had begun.

  He’d met Peter Farling one January day at Cannon Street Hotel, the financial meeting place for everyone connected in any way with the railways, and he had discovered that he was the founder of the largest rolling-stock building company in the south. Peter Farling also had a beloved only child called Millicent who would inherit everything, and Julian had seized his opportunity. An introduction to Millicent had led swiftly to marriage, and following the sudden death of her father two years later, he had become joint owner of the Court Carriage Works in Southampton, only to discover that it was not financially sound. Large sums of money had been needed to keep it going, and when he could no longer rely on his father’s generosity he had taken to acquiring funds from the sale of priceless paintings and anything else he could pilfer from his father’s house.

  ‘I gave that boy everything,’ Grandfather Cromer said bitterly, ‘wealth and education, a position in life — and how has he repaid me? I’ll tell you how. He despises me because I’m self-made, and he hasn’t been near me for months now there’s nothing left worth taking to line his pockets. He’s ashamed of my poor background — my own son! Peter Farling had breeding so it was no sin he let his business slide, but because I made money when I could hardly read or write, I’m dross. That’s what he thinks of me.’

  Ellie reached out and covered the gnarled hand with her own. ‘Well, I don’t think you are, Grandfather, and I’m going to look after you.’

  She welcomed the challenge. It would save her sanity by helping to take her mind off Max.

  *

  Although Oliver went to stay in an hotel after the first few days, he came regularly to Chesterman Court to check on Ellie’s situation and she was glad of his support. He was kind and humorous, and concerned about her, which was a comfort. She needed all the help she could get to cope with the ever-changing moods of her alcoholic relative, and it was good to know Oliver was there in the background to give encouragement and light relief. He took her out sightseeing while Mrs Hovringham looked after William, and he made himself endearing in countless ways. Ellie didn’t know what she would have done without him.

  At the end of the first week she wrote to her mother.

  ‘My dear Mama,’ she began. ‘You sent me into a lion’s den. The state of your papa and his household would shock you beyond measure, but I am staying to try and bring a little order out of the chaos. Your brother Julian, whom I have not yet met, has practically bankrupted your father and left him to exist with barely enough money for the next bottle of brandy. The treasures are gone from the house, along with all the servants except Frobisher and Mrs Hovringham. I know you shared Uncle Julian’s opinion of Grandfather Cromer, but if you could see him now you would surely weep with pity.

  ‘I must tell you, Mama, that I have been deserted by my husband. I doubt if he will show his face in Chicago, but should he do so and you happen to see him I trust you will say nothing of my life here. I don’t intend to return to America. I couldn’t face the scorn of my friends at the failure of my impetuous marriage. You and Papa were right to try to discourage me. I should have listened, but it is too late now, and I am needed by my grandfather.

  ‘William is thriving. Give my love to Papa, if he will accept it, to Drew and Clarissa, Lionel and Jefferson. I miss you all.

  ‘Your ever-loving daughter, Elena.’

  She said nothing about the money with which Max had absconded. It was shameful enough having to admit she couldn’t keep a husband, and if her parents knew she had also been left penniless they were likely to call in the American Consul. They would urge her to return home, and Papa wouldn’t rest until Max was caught and prosecuted. That could mean coming face to face with her husband again, and Ellie went cold at the prospect.

  Max would be back in America now. Where would he head for, with his stolen wealth? Every nerve was raw as she tried to fathom a reason for what he had done, and she suffered continual agony. It was like trying to penetrate a solid wall. No matter how hard she tried there was no answer, not a single factor which could in part exonerate him, and she had to admit that she had loved a heartless villain. In the depths of her soul it was hard to come to terms with such a terrible truth, but it couldn’t be denied. He was an abomination.

  Her bitterness grew daily as she tried to reconcile herself to a lonely future. She was well rid of him, and she prayed to be spared any further contact; prayed he had gone forever. She wanted neither sight nor sound of him ever again.

  With these emotions consuming her it was understandable that when a letter arrived from her husband at the start of her third week in London she threw it straight into the fire unopened.

  *

  Thanks to Ellie’s care, Grandfather Cromer’s health began to improve, and by the beginning of October she had managed to coax him downstairs to the drawing room in the evenings. However his battle with the bottle was far from won. With great difficulty she had restricted his intake of alcohol considerably, but his moods could be unbearable. Sometimes he became aggressive, at others maudlin, and he was too preoccupied with his own misery to show any curiosity about the life of his grand-daughter.

  William contributed greatly towards his improvement. From the moment Ellie had put the baby into the old man’s arms, Sir Robert seemed to take a new hold on life.

  ‘This is your great-grandson,’ Ellie told him. ‘He�
��s going to be someone important one day but he’ll never achieve anything without a good man to influence him, and right now there’s only you to fill that role.’

  She had told him about Max but couldn’t be sure whether he understood what had happened. He never questioned her presence in his house, or showed any curiosity about her disastrous marriage. But William became the pivot of his existence.

  ‘He’s a fine boy.’ The baby gurgled and squirmed in the sinewy arms, smiling at the old rogue as if there was a conspiracy between them. ‘But it’s the school of life he’ll be learning from if he stays here. I’ve no money to educate him like I did Julian.’

  ‘Things will get better, Grandfather.’

  ‘It’ll take a miracle.’

  She didn’t believe him, but as the days went on she became aware of tension in the kitchen and a reduction in the standard of living. Meals were becoming so plain they were little better than the ones she had cooked in Pullman before the strike had reduced them to bread and potatoes, and twice she heard Annie Hovringham having words with a tradesman at the door.

  ‘Mrs Hovringham, I wonder if I might see the household accounts, please,’ Ellie said, after the second occasion. The woman was reluctant, but Ellie insisted. ‘My grandfather is incapable of managing his affairs at the moment, but if I think it necessary to speak to the bank for more money then I can persuade him.’

  ‘I doubt the bank will help any.’

  ‘Things can’t be that bad.’

  ‘They couldn’t be much worse, Miss Elena. If any more bills come in we could paper the kitchen wall with ’em.’

  Ellie was horrified to learn that neither Mrs Hovringham nor Mr Frobisher had been paid for two months, and it was only their loyalty to Sir Robert that had kept them from finding other employment. Added to this was the drastic rise in the pile of unpaid bills and the fact that tradesmen were threatening to cease delivering.