Liza

by Irene Carr

  Liza stepped into the warmth and remembered Martha mentioning Cully, who also saw to the heating of the hot water. ‘Good morning. What lovely flowers. May I see?’

  ‘Oh, aye.’ He beamed at her.

  Cully showed her round proudly, and Liza loved it and said so. When she remembered breakfast he picked a bunch of blooms for her with his big, gentle hands. She thanked him and took them back to the house, smiling. She was met by Mrs Taggart in the dining room, who said drily, ‘I see you’ve met Cully. He has an eye for a pretty face.’ And she thought the girl was startlingly pretty. Last night she had been washed out and drawn but now — what a transformation! She realised she was staring and Liza shifting uncomfortably, so went on, ‘Let me have those and I’ll put them in a vase.’

  She departed with the blooms and Liza breakfasted in solitary state from the chafing dishes ranged on the sideboard. When Mrs Taggart returned to place the vase with the flowers on the table, she said, ‘Captain Morgan has gone to his office. He hopes you will join him for lunch here, then accompany him this afternoon when he pays his respects in the cemetery and visits the solicitor.’

  Liza had feared that the earlier stare had betokened suspicion but was able now to heave an inward sigh of relief. ‘Yes, of course.’

  The housekeeper seemed surprised by her ready agreement, but went on, ‘Martha told me how you lost your shoes but a servant girl lent you a pair.’

  ‘Yes. Fortunately we were the same size,’ Liza said quickly.

  ‘They may well have fitted but are hardly suitable for you now, Miss Spencer,’ Mrs Taggart said drily. ‘As it happens, the captain also suggested you might like to go shopping to repair your wardrobe or add to it. I’m to accompany you and to charge all items to his account. He left this for you in case you needed cash.’ She handed Liza a plump envelope which lay lightly on her hand, but she found it held a wad of bank notes.

  * * *

  William had hesitated over the money, not out of meanness but because he was wary of the girl. Would she turn up her nose and refuse it? Then he had asked himself: What would Edward have wished?

  * * *

  ‘Thank you,’ Liza said. ‘He is very kind and I’d like to go shopping with you.’

  ‘Shall I tell Gibson to bring the carriage round at nine?’

  That being agreed, Elspeth inclined her head and departed. As she went to give Gibson his orders she reflected on the girl’s smiling co-operation. It was not what she had expected of Cecily Spencer.

  * * *

  Liza rode into Sunderland in the carriage with Mrs Taggart sitting opposite her. She had intended to buy only one spare item, but as they rolled along she reasoned that she was here at Cecily’s request and new clothes were necessary for the part she was playing. Buying clothes on behalf of Cecily, for the present Miss Spencer, was in order.

  In the first shop she chose a dress in pale pink chiffon with a full skirt and low neckline. She put it on and twirled before the mirror. She glanced at the housekeeper, sitting straight-backed in a chair, hands folded in her lap. ‘Do you like it, Mrs Taggart?’

  ‘It’s not my place to say.’ She stiffened further.

  ‘But I’d like your opinion,’ Liza urged. ‘Please?’

  She sniffed, then gave the answer Liza expected: ‘I think it’s a little too flighty at this time.’

  Liza nodded. ‘Ye-es. I think you’re right.’ She discarded it. After that, each dress became a matter for discussion. Liza bought four, two to which Mrs Taggart agreed, two to which she did not. But she wasn’t sitting quite so straight or so silent. Finally there was a black day dress. ‘I think this is appropriate,’ Liza said.

  ‘Aye, ye’ll need that today.’

  ‘Do you think Captain Morgan will like what I’ve bought?’ Liza asked.

  ‘He doesn’t like mourning,’ Mrs Taggart said decisively. ‘He would not force it on a lassie like yoursel’, and that would be Mr Edward’s view, but that looks nice on you.’

  There were also two coats, one black, and two costumes, three pairs of shoes, and nightdresses, silk stockings and underwear, which raised Mrs Taggart’s eyebrows but she said nothing. Liza also bought a new handbag: she did not like Cecily’s. The bill for the morning came to just under ten pounds. Liza had been earning two pounds per month, so that was five months’ work. But it was how Cecily would act, she was sure.

  * * *

  A porter carried the boxes and bags out to Gibson and the waiting carriage, and they were home just in time to join William for lunch. He saw the parcels as Gibson carried them in and smiled. This was more like the Cecily he knew.

  Over lunch he said, ‘I left word that I proposed we should visit Mr Spencer’s grave then go on to see Arkenstall — he is the solicitor. I sent word to him that you are here. Can I take it this is agreeable to you?’

  Liza smiled at him from the other end of the table. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I have a wreath to lay and I took the liberty of ordering one on your behalf.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d like to do that.’

  ‘I thought you might,’ William said. He had also thought she might not.

  * * *

  Liza wore her new black dress and coat. The cemetery was cold, with a brisk wind off the sea that blew away any warmth from the pale winter sunshine. They laid the flowers on the grave, then stood side by side in silence as the gulls, driven by the wind, screamed above them. Liza said a prayer for Edward, who she thought must have been a good man.

  William stirred. ‘He was my guardian too, as no doubt you know. I owe everything I have, anything I am, to him.’

  Liza was brought up short by this: it was a warning that she knew virtually nothing about this man or his guardian. She knew some reply was needed and spoke instinctively: ‘I’m sure he was proud of you.’

  He seemed taken aback by that and said only, ‘Well, I tried.’ Then, as if embarrassed, ‘Shall we go now?’

  They returned to the Vauxhall, he taking the wheel and Liza sitting beside him, and drove to the solicitor’s office in the High Street. Liza had bought a scarf to secure her hat and left the silk square given to her the previous day in the hall.

  As they entered Ezra Arkenstall rose from behind his desk.

  ‘William! And Miss Spencer. How good to see you. Come and sit down.’ He was close to sixty but still vigorous, with grey in his pointed beard. He looked out shrewdly at life through wire-rimmed spectacles. He had been a lifelong friend of Edward Spencer, had watched William grow from a boy of five to manhood, and smiled at him now.

  They sat, and Ezra asked about Alexandra Higgins and Cecily’s travels in Paris and Berlin. Liza, shaking inside and expecting every moment to be denounced, said that her aunt was as well as could be expected, and recounted some episodes based on her experiences in France and Germany, and those of the Koenigs she had heard discussed. Arkenstall nodded and smiled. Now she produced the papers Cecily had given her, including the birth certificate. ‘All the other papers are in Hampshire and Aunt Alexandra will send whatever you require when she comes home.’

  The solicitor scanned them and set them aside. ‘We will need them again when you inherit your own estate.’ He looked uncomfortable.

  * * *

  William knew why and wondered if he should tell the girl that there was no big bequest coming to her. But Arkenstall had said nothing, sticking to Edward’s instructions as he should. William was surprised that Cecily had not asked the amount of her inheritance, but decided she had probably assumed there would be a pot of gold waiting for her — and that would be enough for the Cecily he remembered.

  Arkenstall carried on: ‘Now for Edward’s will.’ He told them that, after some small bequests to friends and servants, all Edward’s estate went to William.

  William was stunned. He would not have been surprised by a bequest, but to inherit all! He was not even a blood relative. Then as he came to terms with the idea he acknowledged, without conceit, that Edward had done what wa
s best for the firm and its employees.

  Arkenstall was smiling at Liza now: ‘There is also a bequest to you. Your uncle left funds for your support for four years, provided you use the money and the time to train for a trade or profession that will render you a useful member of the community.’ He coughed. ‘The provision of these funds will be in the hands of Captain Morgan, who will decide if the course of training is suitable and your progress is satisfactory.’ He looked over his spectacles at them. ‘I questioned the need for this when drawing up the will, but Mr Spencer was adamant. I’m sure he believed he was doing his best for you, Miss Spencer.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Liza agreed.

  William was surprised again that she had not created uproar when she learned that he, an outsider, had inherited the estate while Edward’s niece was fobbed off with this small legacy —and that on terms!

  ‘Would you have any suggestion to make regarding a career to follow?’ Arkenstall asked.

  Liza shook her head. ‘I’m afraid you’ve caught me unprepared.’

  He smiled, evidently relieved that she had not burst into tears or had a fit of temper. ‘You can consult with Captain Morgan and decide at your leisure.’

  Liza had caught William’s cold eye on her and resented it. She had tried to please him on Cecily’s account but he, for some reason, kept her at arm’s length. Well, he would not run Cecily’s life for her.

  William was mulling over his new duty and not liking it, though he recalled wryly that he had suggested to Edward that the girl be put to learn a trade. He could understand his guardian setting it up, agreed with his reasoning, but could foresee trouble if he had to monitor her training. His consolation, however, was that Cecily would not agree to it, secure in the knowledge that she would inherit her father’s estate in a matter of weeks.

  * * *

  They drove home in the Vauxhall, silent, both busy with their own thoughts. It was only as they halted on the drive before the house that William said, ‘You’ll have a chance to wear some of your new clothes this evening. We’ve been invited out to dinner by Norman Outhwaite. He was a business acquaintance of Edward’s and will deal with me.’

  ‘Us? Me? I won’t know anyone there,’ Liza said, startled.

  He glanced sideways at her as he applied the brake. ‘They know about you, but all good. Edward always spoke well of you. It’s just that people will want to see you in the flesh and that’s understandable. Edward was an important man in this town and you were his ward.’

  Liza debated: could she make some excuse? A headache, stomach upset? But then she would have to make a miraculous recovery to carry out her plans for the following day.

  William was watching her curiously now. ‘They won’t bite your head off,’ he said.

  Liza smiled at him. ‘Of course. I was just taken by surprise. I’d love to come.’

  * * *

  William had seen that startled look become wary and had thought she was about to refuse. Odd. She certainly wasn’t shy, not Cecily. But then he recalled how she had refused so many of Edward’s requests for unknown reasons. Just wilful? He shrugged inwardly. Anyway, she was coming. ‘I thought we’d leave about seven.’

  ‘I’ll be ready.’

  I’ve heard that one before, he thought.

  He descended the stairs in leisurely fashion at five minutes to seven and found her waiting for him, her coat over her arm. He stopped some feet away from her at the foot of the stairs. ‘Is that one of the new dresses?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Liza. It was a little bit daring, an evening gown of grey silk chiffon over dark blue silk with a low scooped neckline and a flared skirt that clung to the lines of her body.

  William nodded and grinned. ‘Well worth the money. It looks very nice.’ He reached out for her coat and eased it on to Liza’s shoulders. ‘There we are.’

  Gibson was waiting at the foot of the steps with the carriage, holding open the door. William handed in Liza, then asked him, ‘Did you find that scarf?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It had got hung up in the hall.’

  ‘Good man.’ William took the scarf he had lent to Liza and tucked it into a pocket. ‘Away we go, then.’ And they set off in cheerful mood.

  * * *

  The Outhwaites’ house was large but not large enough for all the furniture, plants and pictures crammed into it. Liza thought it was too cluttered and that she would not want the job of dusting it. She could afford to grin at that, knowing it was someone else’s job. Norman Outhwaite was red-faced and jovial, his wife plump and affable. Daphne, their daughter, was in her early twenties, fair and with a tittering laugh. She threw her arms round William’s neck. ‘Lovely to see you, darling.’ He unwrapped her, smiling, and she turned to Liza: ‘And so good to see you, Miss Spencer. We’ve all been longing to meet you. The mysterious heiress!’ William dug out the scarf from his pocket and gave it to her. She took it with a squeal, ‘Oh! Thank you, darling!’ and explained to Liza, ‘He drove me home from a dance a few weeks ago. We had an absolutely marvellous time!’

  Liza kept her smile in place. ‘I’m so glad.’ She thought Daphne’s dress was too revealing. She did not warm to her, had seen too many like her, both upstairs and down.

  At dinner, host and hostess sat at either end of the table. William sat opposite Liza and she was on Norman Outhwaite’s right. Daphne was next to William, and beside Liza was another man, invited to make up the numbers. Liza gathered he was a young member of the Outhwaite family and firm. He droned on interminably while Liza nodded and smiled as she thought appropriate. She had no difficulty in hearing Daphne’s unending breathy chatter, her hand constantly on William’s sleeve. Was he enjoying it? she wondered.

  They had reached dessert when Daphne squeaked, ‘My! So we have both of Mr Spencer’s wards living under the same roof !’

  She made it sound as if they were sharing the same bed and Liza found herself blushing again. But she fixed Daphne with a level stare and said coolly, ‘It’s a big house with plenty of room for both of us. We find it convenient.’

  Daphne knew when she had been snubbed, showed her teeth in a smile and asked, ‘But do you intend to live there permanently?’

  William was about to speak but Liza was before him: ‘I have made no plans but I will probably travel.’ She would certainly do that — as far as Newcastle. Then she remembered that Cecily had just toured in Europe, and she added, ‘Again.’

  ‘Miss Spencer may stay as long as it suits her,’ William put in firmly. ‘It is as Edward would have wished and for my part she is welcome.’ Then he steered away the conversation. ‘Shipbuilding is booming now,’ he said to Norman Outhwaite, ‘but how long do you think it will last?’

  When the ladies retired to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port, Daphne probed shrilly again, asking now about Cecily’s home life. Liza answered, sometimes vaguely, with details she had observed in the houses where she had worked.

  * * *

  They left early, William having privately decided that Cecily was not happy. What was wrong now? he wondered. In the carriage they were silent, but at home he thought they might have a nightcap. The servants had been dismissed for the evening but earlier he had asked Elspeth to leave out some drinks. Now he asked Liza, ‘Did you enjoy yourself ?’

  ‘I had an absolutely marvellous time!’ she replied. It was Daphne to the life and William burst out laughing. Liza did not. ‘I don’t really think it’s funny. I thought that young lady was — forward.’

  ‘Forward?’

  ‘Well, fawning. She threw herself at you.’

  William laughed again. ‘She tries to be a charmer.’

  ‘More like a trollop.’

  ‘Oh, come now.’ William was irritated.

  ‘She as much as implied that I was—’ Liza stopped, trying to choose her words.

  The ship’s captain spoke: ‘Spit it out, then.’

  That provoked Liza and she ceased seeking polite words and spoke. ‘She talked of us sharing th
e same house as if it were the same bed.’

  ‘You are hardly in a position to criticise,’ William snapped. Liza blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

  William regretted his words and tried to take them back: ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You insinuated something about me!’ And now she quoted him: ‘Spit it out!’

  That angered him further. ‘Very well. I recall only too well that you offered yourself to me, in my bed, in Hampshire two years ago. You may also recall that you wore a wig and had painted your face so you were unrecognisable. I think that was intended to upset Edward, and it succeeded.’

  * * *

  That remark took Liza’s breath away as if he had slapped her face. Now she slapped his with a crack! The impression of her fingers could be seen on his cheek. ‘That’s a lie!’

  He shook his head slowly, his face still but his eyes burning. ‘You know it’s true.’

  She did. She knew he was talking of Cecily but his words had been levelled at her, Liza. She was here and he believed it of her and that hurt. ‘Most of us do things we regret later.’ She recalled her own mistaken passion for Vince Bailey. ‘If Mr Spencer was hurt, I am sorry. If I offered myself to you when I was a foolish young girl, I can assure you I regret it and it will not happen again.’ She turned her back on him and walked away.

  ‘Wait!’ he snapped. Liza stopped. He took her by her shoulders, turned her to face him and saw the tears in her eyes. ‘I’ve hurt you, and for that I’m sorry. I agree we all act stupidly at times. I have, as a young man. Daphne is a well-known flirt but I forgot she also has a reputation for spiteful remarks. I’ve danced with her on occasion and once drove her home along with some others. She may be a seductress but I’d guess she’s all talk. She certainly bores me.’

  Liza stared ahead of her, eyes fixed on his broad chest, the white shirtfront only inches from her. She thought dully that although he had apologised he still believed she was the girl who had offered herself to him. Whenever he looked at her he would remember that. She did not think that she would forget now, either.