by Val Wood
She’d been relieved at his words. She had felt as if she was needed in half a dozen places at once, cooking and serving and looking after Aunt Brewster, with only a young girl to help her. The inn was making money; she could afford to take on staff.
‘You’re so wise, Freddie,’ she’d said. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He’d put his chin in his hand and closed his eyes. ‘I have to marry Maria, Susannah,’ he muttered. ‘Father says he can’t afford a scandal. It would ruin him.’
She said nothing, though her mind was in turmoil. Did he really love her? Where did his loyalties lie?
‘Father was lost without my mother,’ Freddie said quietly. ‘That’s why he lavished so much on me. My education, my chance of a partnership with him. But I love you, Susannah. I thought that Maria would have given up this obsession. I’ve told her that I don’t wish to marry for years, but she’s already planning the wedding; she and her mother. I don’t know what to do.’ He gazed at her. ‘What can I do?’
I can’t help him, she thought unhappily. I cannot sway him one way or another. He’s promised to Maria whether he likes it or not. She thinks it is a binding contract. She must be desperate to want to marry a man who doesn’t want her. She must love him so much that she won’t give him up. Susannah took in a deep searing breath. So I must.
‘If there is no way out,’ she said quietly, ‘then you must marry her.’
He’d put his arms round her. ‘I won’t consummate the marriage,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘I can’t bear to think of it. I will not share her bed!’ He looked into her eyes. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Susannah?’
She looked away. Yes, she did. But she couldn’t believe it. Once he was married, she would lose him. He would stop coming to Hedon and she would be alone again.
‘I will live in hope that she’ll eventually lose patience with me and file for a divorce,’ he said. ‘It might take a few years, Susannah, but by then my father will probably have retired; he’s not all that well, and I shall be running the practice and will have everything at my disposal. She will do it quietly, for I will advise her that the scandal will fall on her head.’
But she didn’t. Maria seemed to be content that she had Freddie’s name, so he told Susannah, for contrary to her expectations he still came to see her. He had a legitimate reason for visiting, for after the firm of Cannon and Cannon was set up his father handed over to him the file detailing the leasing of the Fleet Inn, which, he said, had to be conducted to the absolute letter of the original contract held by them and Mr Watson.
Freddie read it and realized that he had done the right thing after all in joining his father, for now he could look after Susannah in ways he hadn’t envisaged.
Aunt Brewster died in the winter just before Susannah’s twenty-first birthday. She was very old and had been in failing health since her husband died. Susannah wrote to Freddie to tell him and asking for advice on the lease of the Fleet. He came to visit her a few days after receiving her letter.
‘Everything is in place,’ he said. ‘The agreement is in your name.’
‘So soon?’ she exclaimed. ‘How is that?’
He explained. ‘The owners are quite happy with the way the inn is being run. In fact, there is to be an extra sum of money deposited during November for you to make other changes if you should so wish.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Do they not want to come and look?’
‘They see the accounts,’ he told her. ‘That’s all they seem to be interested in. But then,’ he added, ‘perhaps they have been to visit. There are so many customers now, perhaps they have been and you didn’t know.’
It was a strange way of doing business, she thought, but she surmised that as Mr Watson lived in Hedon he would hear if something was amiss and would report back to the agent.
‘Susannah!’ Freddie collected up the papers from the table in the new parlour where they were sitting, and placed them in his brown leather briefcase. ‘The Fleet is doing so very well that I wondered if you’d ever thought of taking on another run-down inn and making it a success as you have done with this one?’
‘And leave here?’ She was astonished at the suggestion. ‘No, I hadn’t. This is my home. Even though I’m very sad because Aunt Brewster isn’t here with me.’
Indeed, she was as low-spirited as she had ever been. She would be twenty-one in just over two weeks, and had been twelve years old when Aunt Brewster had taken her in, giving her a home and the love and care that she longed for; and now she was gone. After everyone had left at night, and if there were no visitors staying, the inn was very quiet; all she could hear was the trickle of water in the stream and the occasional hoot of an owl or bark of a fox, and she felt very alone.
‘I thought not.’ Freddie deliberated for a moment and then explained his reason for asking the question. ‘It’s just that I’ve come across a landlord in Beverley who is struggling and desperately wants to sell. It’s only a small place, but I feel it could be a successful business with the right person in charge.’ He looked at her and stroked his dark sideburns. ‘It would be a big challenge, but if you were interested I’m sure I could speak to the right people for you to raise a mortgage.’
‘Oh!’ She stared at him, her lips apart. ‘To own it! Not to be a tenant?’
‘Yes.’ He got up from the table. ‘Must go or I’ll miss my train. Forget I mentioned it,’ he told her. ‘It was just an idea.’ He kissed her. ‘I have such faith in you. You’re such a clever young woman,’ he said. Then he kissed her again. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘For ever.’
She had acted on Freddie’s previous suggestion and employed Ruby Cross, a plump and jolly young woman, to work in the kitchen and Jack Howard to look after the beer. There wasn’t strictly a cellar, but a brick extension had been built at the back of the house at a slightly lower level than the main building, with an hydraulic beer engine to draw up the ale into the inn. The cook and the cellar man worked well together and Susannah saw that there was a mutual attraction between them. I hope they don’t leave, she’d mused, and take a hostelry together, though she doubted that they would as they had no money apart from the wages she gave them.
When her birthday came, there was a letter from Freddie wishing her a happy day and wishing too that he could spend it with her, but as it wasn’t long since his last visit there was no reason or excuse to validate another.
She pondered on a few things, and when she saw the large amount of money which had been entered into the inn’s account book, and strangely enough on her birthday, she thought again of Freddie’s suggestion regarding the inn in Beverley and decided to write to him.
‘Dear Mr Cannon,’ she wrote, always aware that his father, or their secretary, might also see the letter.
I have given some thought to the particulars of the business venture in Beverley which you mentioned on your last visit and might be interested to hear more details. The sum of money intended for changes or renewal to the Fleet has been deposited, and I wondered if there were any stipulations on how this should be spent? Perhaps you would inform me by letter or call on me to discuss it. Alternatively I will call on you if that is more convenient.
She finished the letter, signed it and addressed the envelope clearly to Mr Frederick Cannon. She had never called at his office, nor did she intend to, not whilst his father was still there, but she liked to suggest that she might, in case his father read his correspondence.
Freddie’s secretary wrote back to inform her that he would call to see her within the week, and when he came she could tell he was brimming with enthusiasm. ‘The man is ready to sell,’ he told her. ‘Are you really interested?’
‘Only if I can have a manager here,’ she said. ‘The Fleet is so important to me. Would I be able to use the extra money to pay someone? Or even use some of it towards the place in Beverley? I’d pay it back, of course.’
‘As far as I am aware,’ he told her,
‘you can do whatever you wish with it. There are no stipulations on its use.’
‘Then if that is the case, I’ll look at this place in Beverley,’ she said. ‘And ask Jack if he’d like to be manager here. He’s very efficient and he told me last week that he and Ruby would get married if they could only afford it. They could have Aunt Brewster’s old room and I’d keep mine. I wouldn’t forsake the Fleet entirely.’
Susannah put her empty cup onto the saucer on the bedside table and slid down into bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin. So that is how it began. But it doesn’t tell Laura and James about their father. How will they react when they find out how shamefully their mother acted?
I remember the day so well. I was considered to be very successful, a young woman on her own achieving so much without the help of a husband. The inn in Beverley was transformed and I was spending most of my time there, while the Fleet was flourishing under the managership of Jack and Ruby. I’d rented a flower shop in Hull and on Freddie’s advice I was about to buy another. Yet I was still unfulfilled. There was something missing from my life.
I’d gone back to Hedon for a few days. Freddie knew I was there for I had written to him to say I needed a quiet time. The fact was I felt very alone, even though by now I knew many people and was responsible for some of them. I walked one day along the beck towards the old Hedon haven and came to the log where Freddie and I used to sit. I was suddenly overcome with grief: for what I had lost and for what I had never had.
Freddie just appeared. It was as if he knew I was at a low ebb, and indeed he said afterwards that he could tell by my letter that something was amiss.
Susannah wiped away a tear with the bed sheet. I don’t know how I plucked up the courage to say it, she thought. I’m not the kind of woman to allow my emotions to come to the surface. But I was nearly twenty-four years old, successful, with enough money, thanks to Freddie’s advice on how to invest, yet alone and without anyone of my own to love.
‘What is it, Susannah?’ Freddie had asked tenderly. ‘What is it that’s troubling you? It’s me, isn’t it? You think that I don’t love you enough. And I understand that you would think that, after the way I’ve treated you. But I do love you, my darling. I want to prove it, more than anything in the world.’ He held her close. ‘I’ve even thought – oh, so many terrible thoughts, about how to remove Maria from my life. But I can’t. I should have been brave enough at the start to stand up to my father and to Maria and her mother. I’m not worthy of you, my dearest.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘But if I didn’t have you in my life, then it would be worth nothing.’
Susannah gazed up at him. Was he willing to prove his love? If she was, then so should he be.
‘Freddie,’ she had whispered, ‘I want a child. Your child.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Joseph Ellis had excused himself from the supper table and paced his bedroom floor. He could hear the voices of the young people below, some laughter, and then music as someone, probably Amy, played the piano. What am I to do? They must be Susannah’s son and daughter. Have to be! There couldn’t be such a coincidence. Edmund said that he met them at the Fleet Inn! Where Susannah once lived and which is in her name, though she doesn’t realize it, if the solicitors have acted as I insisted they must.
After seeing Susannah at the Fleet on that day all those years ago, he had made numerous discreet enquiries about the two old people who ran the inn. He discovered that they were born and bred Hedon people and had been tenants there since their marriage, and was told that they had taken Susannah in to live with them. They claimed that she was their niece, but everyone knew that she wasn’t.
He thought of the exorbitant amount of money he had been pleased to pay to buy the inn from the owners, and of the complicated arrangement which he had devised with the two solicitors and his agent to ensure that Susannah would take on the lease after the old people had passed away. He recalled how surprised he was, after depositing the large sum of money on her twenty-first birthday, that she chose to employ a manager for the Fleet and then bought another inn. Some of the money was taken out of the account, but later put back in and used to upgrade the Fleet even further. He felt proud of her success and wished that he could have shared it with her.
But then she had moved out of his sphere. The solicitor who handled her affairs told his agent that she was to be married and that he couldn’t disclose her whereabouts, but that the Fleet would remain her responsibility. Joseph had felt cut off and downcast that he was no longer able to play a part in Susannah’s life, yet relieved that she had found someone to love and care for her.
‘But now,’ he muttered, ‘here are her son and daughter. My grandchildren! And—’ Realization hit him and he felt sick with dismay. Edmund! His grandson had invited them purely because he was attracted to Laura!
I understand how he feels, he thought. I felt the same for Mary-Ellen. The moment I saw her I knew she was the only one for me. But I must put a stop to this before it’s too late! But how? Do I confess? Arlette doesn’t know. I never told her. I should have, but there never seemed to be a right time.
He sat down on his bed, leaning his head on his hand. The lamp was dim, the room shadowy. ‘Mary-Ellen,’ he breathed. ‘We never thought, never imagined that our love would come to this.’ He recalled the memorable night she had stayed here. His parents were away and he had persuaded her to come back with him. She had gazed round the room, unused to such luxuries, and asking questions. He looked across at his battered chaise-longue and remembered, hearing a faint echo of her voice. ‘Hah!’ she had muttered scornfully. ‘I knew it was a long chair. Why don’t they call it that, then, instead of giving it a silly French name?’
Wistfully he reminisced. How lovely she was, how wild and unpredictable. I loved her so much. And now I must shatter my grandson’s dreams. Just as mine were shattered. He put his head in his hands and wept.
Laura lay sleepless in her bed. She wasn’t tired, nor restless, but quite content to lie and think about the weekend. Her mind flitted from the company she had met to the conversations they had had, the walk by the estuary, the laughter; but at each and every shift and turn her thoughts returned to Edmund Ellis. She liked him, liked him a lot, and he had made it quite obvious that he was attracted to her. He was different from most men she had met. Handsome – not that that mattered, she thought. Strength of character was more important, and he had that all right. He seemed strong and positive and knew what he wanted in life. Inherited that from his grandfather, I imagine. I could see Joseph Ellis as being strong-willed and decisive when he was young.
James, too, she pondered, thinking of her brother. He’s very positive now that he’s older and doing well at the bank. But when he was young he seemed aimless and resentful. Perhaps he missed having a father; it wasn’t until Freddie put him on the right track and suggested to Mama that he went away to Pocklington school that he became resolute and ambitious. I wonder how well they knew each other, James and Edmund. I don’t recall James ever mentioning him.
Her thoughts meandered back to Burstall House. Such a comfortable house; full of character and echoes of previous generations. I wonder why Edmund’s grandmother wasn’t there. Why would she spend so much time in Paris, away from her family? Does Joseph Ellis miss her, I wonder. And who was the woman he once loved?
She began to feel drowsy. There were many things she would like to know about the Ellis family. She turned her lamp down, and snuggled into her pillows. I must brush up on my French, she mused. Perhaps Mama and I might go again. Last time we were there— Her mind, inert and somnolent, abruptly awoke. Last time – no, not the last time! The time before! Her heart began to pound. When I was lifted into someone’s arms. It was Uncle Freddie! She sat up and clutched her arms about herself. It was Uncle Freddie! He swung me high in the air and my skirts flew up, showing my drawers. We all laughed and my mother – she wore a blue crinoline and a white bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons – admonished him, tapping
him playfully on his arm, saying, ‘Freddie!’
Sleep deserted her and she rose from her bed and walked the floor. Has Uncle Freddie been my mother’s lover all these years? Since my father died? So many things slipped into place. Freddie had always appeared on their birthdays and their mother’s birthday, and then that time we met him in Paris, on our second visit. Was it really a coincidence or did they arrange to meet? Mama said she had known Freddie since they were both young. Were they childhood sweethearts? And if they were, why didn’t they marry? Will they marry now that Mrs Cannon has died?
She resolved that the next day, after James came home from the bank, she would ask him his opinion. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, and I suppose, she reflected reluctantly, it has nothing to do with us. Perhaps it would be better if we didn’t know. Mama will be so embarrassed if she thinks I have found out her secret. She will expect me to be shocked and I suppose I am. Poor Mrs Cannon! Did she ever guess that her husband might have been unfaithful? Perhaps that is why she was always ill, with the worry of it.
The following morning she changed her mind. She wouldn’t after all mention it to James. He could fly off in a temper sometimes, and he might think she had been ferreting amongst issues which didn’t concern her. And she wouldn’t ask her mother the pressing questions either. She was obviously under some strain since Freddie had told her of his wife’s death. I mustn’t meddle, she thought. There are sure to be changes sometime soon. Mama will tell us when she is ready.
Susannah wrote a formal letter of commiseration to Freddie on the sudden death of his wife. She couched it in such a way as to give no hint that he had given her the news in person, and stressed that he should find comfort in the fact that his wife hadn’t suffered and that the end had been swift. Then she wrote another note which she marked private and personal, in which she requested a visit as soon as was convenient as she wished to discuss a matter relating to her son and daughter.
