The Fairbairn Girls

by Una-Mary Parker

  ‘No, not at all,’ Laura replied, flustered, conscious that she looked a mess. ‘Come in. I’m afraid the place is upside down because we only finished work a short time ago and the others have just left.’ She paused, realizing she was prattling on inanely. ‘I’ve just made some tea. Would you like some? I’m afraid I haven’t anything stronger.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ he replied, following her up the stairs.

  ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ she assured him, suddenly feeling breathless. ‘I’ve already made some for myself.’ She led him into the workroom.

  ‘This is where we make the clothes,’ she continued. ‘I could do with double the space but for the time being we can manage.’

  He looked around with interest, especially at the sewing machines. ‘Priscilla used to tell me how busy you all were and I can see what she meant. You’ve even got two machines!’ He referred to his late wife as if he was talking about a mutual friend.

  For a moment Laura didn’t know how to respond, then she said in a rush, ‘I was very sorry to hear she was no longer with us. My assistants greatly enjoyed making clothes for her.’ As she spoke she watched him closely to see his reaction.

  ‘She enjoyed coming here,’ he replied matter-of-factly. His expression was serene and when he looked at her his eyes had the same glint of intimacy she’d noticed when they first met. ‘So how are you?’ he continued, gazing into her face. ‘Neil and I only got home a couple of weeks ago. We went to the South of France where one of my sisters live, so Neil had fun on the beaches with her children, but I’m glad to be home again.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ As she spoke she handed him a cup of tea.

  ‘With my other sister, who is staying with me.’ His eyes never left her face and she felt her cheeks grow hot.

  ‘How old is Neil now?’

  ‘Six.’ He leaned forward and suddenly spoke impulsively. ‘Would you think it very presumptuous of me if I asked you out to dinner one evening? If you prefer we could invite Mrs Sutherland to come too, as a chaperone?’

  Laura almost burst out laughing. Did he know how old she was? ‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ she replied, smiling. ‘I’m a working woman and quite grown-up now.’

  ‘And very beautiful too,’ he said earnestly, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘You’ve been on my mind for a long time, you know. Would tomorrow evening be convenient? If I called to collect you at seven forty-five?’

  His keen yet diffident manner reminded her of a young man who was inviting a girl out for the very first time.

  ‘That would be perfect,’ she replied almost reassuringly. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Her heart was racing and her head was in a spin but she tried to look calm and sophisticated. Was this really happening to her? Could her wild fantasy be turning into reality?

  Walter left shortly after, thanking her courteously for the tea and saying he would look forward to seeing her the following evening.

  When he’d left she flopped into a chair, kicked off her shoes and hugged herself with delight. Happiness had transformed her in the past forty minutes and she felt quite different. Before Walter’s unexpected arrival she’d felt tired and depressed but now she felt ecstatic and in love with life itself. On a whim she reached for the silver-backed hand mirror she’d brought from Lochlee and peered at her reflection. Her expression was radiant, her skin gently flushed, her hazel eyes shining with joy. The last time she’d felt like this was when she’d become engaged to Rory at seventeen. Was it really possible that Walter had confirmed her wildest dreams just when she’d resigned herself to being an old maid, on the shelf and destined to be childless and spend her last days of her life on her own?

  When she awoke the next morning a dreadful wave of doubt engulfed her. Had she read too much into his dropping in to see her the previous evening? Maybe he had a whole string of women friends whom he flattered, entertained in restaurants and regarded as pleasant companions and no more? Perhaps he was still grieving and lonely? Was she being foolish in presuming he’d come along like a knight in shining armour to rescue her from her lonely life? He was probably only being polite and just hated eating alone?

  ‘Lady Laura, are you all right?’ Helen asked with concern as she watched Laura trying to pin a lace frill to the cuffs of a blouse with shaking hands.

  Laura’s worried frown deepened. Their two assistants had gone over to Mrs Sutherland’s house to fetch some fabric and, as they could talk undisturbed, she told Helen what had happened.

  ‘I’ve cared about him for years but now I’m wondering if he really feels the same about me,’ she concluded.

  ‘Sounds to me like a romantic novel,’ Helen said enthusiastically.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,’ Laura pointed out. ‘It’s been such a long time since I was wooed I’ve almost forgotten what it was like and now, suddenly, I doubt his sincerity. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.’

  ‘Lady Laura, you’re worth a dozen of the stupid little woman he was married to. He’d be mad if he didn’t ask you to marry him before someone else snaps you up.’

  Laura looked surprised. ‘I thought you liked Mrs Leighton-Harvey? You were always very flattering, telling her how beautiful she looked when she was fitted for a new gown?’

  ‘Don’t we flatter all the ladies when they put on our clothes?’

  Laura nodded, smiling. ‘I suppose we do.’

  ‘You’ll have a wonderful time tonight, mark my words!’

  Helen stayed late to help Laura get ready. First she smoothed some pomade into her hair, made of a mixture of lard, olive oil and a few drops of perfume, so that her chignon would look smooth and shining, and then she dabbed her face with powder and her lips with raspberry juice mixed with Vaseline.

  ‘You’ll give Queen Alexandra a run for her money!’ she said triumphantly. Then she helped Laura into a pale aquamarine taffeta dress which showed off her shapely figure and small waist.

  ‘My goodness, Lady Laura!’ Helen exclaimed, standing back and clapping her hands together. ‘Now I can really see you’re the daughter of a lord! Whatever are you doing working alongside the likes of me until your fingers bleed when you could be waltzing with royalty at Buckingham Palace?’ She sounded quite scandalized.

  Laura laughed out loud. ‘Because I love doing what I do.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Perhaps I also wanted to make a point about women having a career and not just sitting around waiting to get married,’ she added.

  Helen gave her a knowing look. ‘You’ll make a point all right tonight and that’s for sure.’

  The front doorbell rang at exactly seven forty-five and, picking up her fur wrap and purse, Laura made her way down the stairs. When she opened the street door Walter was waiting expectantly for her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said shyly as he gazed at her with undisguised admiration.

  ‘Hello,’ he echoed in a low voice. Then he helped her into the waiting carriage. ‘I’ve got these for you,’ he murmured, handing her a corsage of white wax-like gardenias.

  She held them to her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘How did you know that is my favourite scent in the world?’ she said appreciatively, drawing in a deep breath. ‘It’s better than roses. Thank you so much.’

  ‘May I?’ He took the spray from her and in his other hand he held a gold pin with which to fasten it to her dress.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said a touch too quickly, for she could feel his breath on her cheek and his hands were touching her bare shoulder.

  ‘It that all right?’ he asked when he’d pinned on the corsage. ‘They’re like your skin. Pure white and unblemished.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, blushing.

  They hardly spoke on their way to the restaurant, which lay in the shadows of Edinburgh Castle, because she felt overwhelmed by the magnetic presence of this dominant man, who at the same time was gentle. He, in turn, appeared awestruck, and he kept looking at her profile as if he
could hardly believe she was sitting beside him.

  Once seated at a table in a discreet corner of the restaurant, Walter ordered champagne while Laura looked around with interest. All the other diners were beautifully dressed and the women exquisitely coiffured and bejewelled. This was obviously a top restaurant.

  On impulse she leaned towards Walter and spoke in a low voice. ‘Does this place resemble the Café Royal in Regent Street?’

  Walter looked at her in surprise and then burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

  He was still shaking with laughter. ‘It’s just such a funny question, and the answer is I don’t know! I haven’t the faintest idea because I’ve never been to the Café Royal in my life! It’s rather recherché, isn’t it?’

  Laura started laughing, too. ‘I don’t know. I’ve only heard about it.’

  They were looking into each other’s eyes, enjoying the merriment of the moment and the joy of shared laughter.

  ‘Let’s decide what we’re going to eat, then I want you to tell me all about yourself,’ Walter suggested.

  ‘There’s really very little to tell, and you’ve already met my family, when you came to Lochlee for Diana’s wedding,’ she replied, sipping her champagne.

  ‘Ah, Lochlee Castle – I remember it as being both rugged and beautiful at the same time. Don’t you miss living there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied sadly. ‘Especially as it looks as if we’re going to be forced to sell it to pay the death duties incurred since my brother was killed in the Boer War.’

  Walter looked at her sympathetically. ‘My dear Laura, I had no idea. What a terrible blow to lose Henry. He was so young, too. You’ll miss Lochlee, won’t you? How long has your family owned it?’

  ‘About five hundred years.’

  ‘Can nothing be done to save it?’

  ‘The Inland Revenue is not noted for having a heart,’ she replied dryly.

  They continued to talk as they enjoyed an excellent dinner and they were still immersed in conversation when they suddenly realized they were the last people in the restaurant, apart from three waiters who looked like they were longing to go home to bed.

  ‘When can I see you again?’ Walter asked almost urgently as they left the restaurant. ‘I can’t remember when I had such an enjoyable evening,’ he added, taking her arm as they strolled along the road to where their carriage awaited them.

  Laura knew they were past the moment when they had to conform to the niceties of polite society and she had to play hard-to-get. They’d both accepted during the long evening that they had a very special bond, though how and when they would openly acknowledge it, even to themselves, remained to be seen.

  ‘When can we meet again?’ he repeated.

  ‘At any time,’ Laura replied simply.

  ‘Can you come and spend a couple of days at the end of the week at Lasswade Hall? My sister is staying with me at the moment to help with Neil and act as hostess, and I know she’d be delighted to meet you.’

  Laura looked into his dark eyes and knew this was a man she could trust implicitly. ‘I’d love to,’ she replied.

  ‘I’ll send the carriage to collect you on Saturday morning? Would that be convenient?’

  It was all happening much faster than she’d imagined. Walter was a persistent man who was rushing her along. It was like being on a helter-skelter but she was excited by the momentum and loving every moment of it. She could think of no reason to say ‘no’ or even ‘maybe’.

  Instead she smiled and said, ‘Yes.’ Amazed by her easy acceptance and reckless readiness to agree to whatever Walter suggested, a vision of her mother’s disapproval floated across her mind and was instantly dismissed. She was no longer a young girl. She could do as she liked.

  That night she lay awake for hours, going over and over every detail of the evening, and everything they’d said to each other. Most striking was that they’d both felt able to share, with complete honesty, the details of their past lives. Laura had told him all about Rory and he’d told her that sweet though Priscilla had been, her limited intelligence had hampered their mutual enjoyment of books and music, works of art and an interest in politics. In affectionate tones he’d referred to his late wife’s main interest as being clothes and shoes.

  There seemed to be nothing she didn’t know about Walter now, and he in turn had been made aware of the various tragedies that had befallen the Fairbairn family.

  ‘Maybe the removal of the Rowan tree has cleansed Lochlee of evil spells?’ Walter had suggested hopefully, but she hadn’t replied. The future of her beloved castle was something she didn’t want to think about.

  The carriage ride from Edinburgh to Lasswade took nearly two hours along winding roads, and when they stopped at high wrought-iron gates Laura knew with mounting excitement that she’d arrived at Walter’s house when she saw him standing in the open doorway to greet her arrival.

  ‘How are you, my dear Laura?’ he asked warmly. ‘How was the journey?’

  Stepping carefully out of the carriage, Laura looked into his eyes and had the strangest feeling of coming home, of returning to a familiar place where she was always welcome. ‘I’m very well,’ she replied as he took her hand to help her down. ‘We passed through some beautiful countryside.’

  ‘Come inside; my sister is looking forward to meeting you.’

  At that moment a middle-aged woman with the same dark, intelligent eyes as her brother stepped forward, and Laura had the distinct feeling she was being examined from top to toe.

  ‘How do you do? I’m Rowena Marshall and I’m so glad you could come and stay.’ Her tone was brisk and businesslike. ‘This is Neil, my nephew.’

  A small, dark-haired boy in a white sailor suit stepped dutifully forward. His expression was sour.

  ‘Hello, Neil,’ Laura said, smiling encouragingly.

  ‘Say how-do-you-do-Lady-Laura,’ his aunt prompted sharply.

  Neil mumbled something and extended a small, limp white hand which she held gently for a moment.

  ‘I’ve been longing to meet you, Neil. I’ve heard so much about you from your father,’ she continued, bending down to his level.

  Neil continued to stare down at the carpet and remained mute.

  ‘He’s shy,’ Walter remarked jovially. ‘I was the same at his age. Let’s all go into the garden and have a cool drink before luncheon.’

  Rowena led the way and Laura followed, taking off her gloves and opening her travelling cloak as she did so.

  ‘Allow me,’ Walter said, taking her things and handing them to a waiting butler.

  Stepping through French windows, Laura found herself on a large lawn that stretched away to trees down one side and a tennis court on the other.

  ‘Let’s sit in the shade,’ Rowena suggested, but as soon as they were settled in wicker chairs under a Cedar of Lebanon tree that spread out its great horizontal evergreen arms, she murmured something about checking with Cook to make sure luncheon would be ready at one o’clock. Neil immediately followed her.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see you here,’ Walter said as he poured her a glass of chilled elderflower cordial. ‘I’ve been longing to show you the house.’

  Laura smiled, feeling comfortable and relaxed. ‘It’s lovely to be here. Have you lived here for a long time?’

  ‘It used to belong to my parents. My two sisters and I were born here so we’re quite attached to the old place.’

  ‘How wonderful that you were able to keep it on.’

  Walter looked at her sympathetically. ‘Is your family really going to give up Lochlee?’

  ‘I don’t think we have any alternative.’ Her expression was sad.

  ‘You’ll continue to live in Edinburgh, will you?’

  She nodded. ‘That’s where my work is and that’s where I’ll remain.’

  ‘Won’t you miss the countryside?’

  ‘Of course, but I can always stay with Diana, who is quite near or Geo
rgie, who recently married a man who lives in Northumberland.’

  Walter looked at her in silence, as if wondering what he dared say next. She knew what he was thinking and so she added in a casual voice, ‘I also have some friends with whom I can spend a few days relaxing or going for walks on the moors.’

  His eyes lit up. ‘I hope you’ll look upon this as a place you can visit as often as you like.’

  Laura couldn’t help being amused by his careful and very proper approach to wooing her. Rory had been much more impetuous and outspoken, declaring his feelings for her almost immediately. The difference was Rory had been only twenty-two at the time. Walter, she guessed, was in his late forties.

  ‘I’ll come as often as you ask me to see you, not the house particularly,’ she told him gaily. ‘I see you’ve got a tennis court? Can we have a game after luncheon? I’m probably very rusty as I haven’t played for ages but it’s one of my favourite things.’

  Walter started to relax from that moment on and the next two days flew past as Laura realized this was more than just having a romance with an attractive man. As far as Rowena was concerned, Laura felt she was being sized up to see if she would make a suitable wife for Walter and an exemplary stepmother for Neil.

  Laura was grateful for the moments she and Walter had on their own because now that her fantasies looked as if they were turning into reality she needed to find out if she really cared enough for Walter to step into his dead wife’s shoes, with all that it would entail. She and Priscilla were very different in every way; would she fit into Walter’s life? He was so different to her own father, who cared only for his dogs and horses. He forgot his children’s birthdays and had sometimes even forgotten their names, while he lavished his love and devotion on his animals. To find a man who cared so much as Walter obviously did for Neil was a revelation. She also had to remember that she would be moving into another woman’s house and from the fussy way it was decorated it looked much more like the handiwork of Priscilla than it did of Walter.

  ‘You’re a wonderful father, Walter,’ she told him frankly as they sat talking on the Sunday evening after the little boy had gone to bed. This was a side of him she found deeply touching and attractive. ‘Neil is a lucky little boy,’ she continued. ‘I believe my Papa only married and had children to secure an heir for Lochlee. Imagine the irony of it? Nine girls and only two boys, and both of them dead in their early twenties. He’d probably have had a much happier life if there’d been no title and no inheritance, and he could have worked as a simple gamekeeper.’