Seasons of Love

by Anna Jacobs

  She wasn’t demanding of his attention, either, and was pathetically grateful for any time he did deign to spend with her. And she had a very good sense of humour as she grew more used to her new freedom. He thoroughly enjoyed telling her all his old jokes, for she’d heard none of them.

  Best of all, she didn’t try to tell him what to do, as he’d feared a wife would. She simply accepted whatever he said or did as right and proper. She was even able to correct his pronunciation and make suggestions about how a gentleman would react to certain situations in some of the plays. This had a positive effect on his performance, making it less of a caricature of nobility or gentility.

  Yes, it was very convenient, he thought complacently, to have a wife who was a lady born, even if she didn't have any useful connections in London.

  When the first quarter's payment became available, he took her out for a hearty meal in the nearest inn and patted the chinking coins in his pocket as he toasted her beautiful eyes.

  Another pleasant surprise was that he had no need to buy her presents (something he had feared a wife would expect). He soon found out that what she treasured most were compliments and kind remarks, and those cost a fellow nothing at all.

  Even a man as monumentally selfish as Robert couldn’t but realise how unhappy her previous life must have been. It was a good thing, he thought complacently, that he had rescued her.

  Helen, helping her husband to learn his lines, laughing over an incident at the theatre or mending his clothes, thought herself in paradise.

  As she regained her looks, both she and her husband began to worry about her clothes, she because her waist was growing thicker and her breasts fuller, he because he thought she didn’t do him credit, dressed like a dowd. So when a lucky game of cards left him more flush than usual one day, he tossed her some largesse and told her. ‘There you are! I dare say you can buy yourself a length or two of material with this and sew yourself some new dresses. And make sure they’re more fashionable than that blue thing.’

  ‘Oh, Robert!’ Helen wept tears of gratitude all over his waistcoat.

  ‘Here, I say! Stop that.’ But such a reaction made a fellow feel good all the same.

  Since Helen wasn’t confident enough to trust her own judgement, she turned to Roxanne for help.

  ‘How much did he give you, then?’

  Helen displayed the ten precious gold coins.

  ‘Mean, I call that!’

  ‘ Mean! Ten whole guineas!’

  ‘Yes, he always was stingy. You won’t get much with that. And I know for a fact that he won fifty guineas. He's a far better gambler than he is an actor.’

  But she didn’t say any more, because Helen couldn’t be brought to criticise her husband. In her eyes he could do no wrong. She’d grow disillusioned soon enough. Let her enjoy this brief period of happiness.

  Roxanne suddenly saw a way to help her friend and herself at the same time. ‘I'll tell you what, if you don't object to making things over, I could let you have some of my old things. They're not worn out or anything, but I've put a bit of weight on lately. I was going to sell them, but I could let you have them cheaply instead. For your ten guineas, you'd then have half a dozen dresses.’

  Helen immediately tipped the guineas into Roxanne's lap.

  ‘But you haven't even seen them yet!’

  ‘Oh, I trust you, Roxanne. You've been so good to me.’

  ‘More fool you. Listen, love, don't ever trust anyone totally, not even your own husband.’

  But Helen only laughed.

  Six wonderful, if over-trimmed dresses were brought round to the lodgings for Helen's nimble fingers to transform. Roxanne, seeing the excellent job her little friend made of them, grew thoughtful. The girl had instinctive taste and flair. Delicately, Roxanne sounded out Robert on whether or not he would object to his wife earning a bit of money on the side, then laughed at herself for worrying. As if Robert Perriman would look a gift horse in the mouth.

  ‘She's a good needlewoman, you know, Rob. She could do a few bits and pieces for me, and I’d pay her. I was never any hand at sewing. Maybe she could help the others, too. And then there are the costumes. Every now and then they need a bit of work doing on them. The company would pay her for that. She'd be able to make a few shillings from time to time,’ her frugality made her add,

  ‘or we'd give her some of the things we didn't want for herself. She’s going to need some clothes for after she’s had the baby, as well as for it.’

  As she’d expected, Robert had no objections whatsoever.

  Roxanne took Helen aside the next day and put the proposition to her. ‘Mind you,’ she warned,

  ‘I'll only arrange this if you promise to do it my way.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You must promise never to hand over more than half of what you earn to that husband of yours

  - let alone tell him what you earn.’

  Helen was horrified. ‘I couldn't do that!’

  Roxanne steeled herself. ‘Then I won't give you any work.’

  ‘But, Roxanne . . . ’

  ‘No buts. You do it my way or you don’t do it at all.’ She sighed and shook her head over Helen's naiveté, ‘I don't know why I'm bothering, I really don't. I must be getting soft in my old age. It's just that I can't bear to see you being so stupid about him! No man is worth it!’

  ‘Robert's been very good to me,’ Helen insisted.

  ‘Your precious Robert seduced you! It was his fault your father beat you and threw you out!’

  ‘My father disliked me before I met Robert,’ Helen said quietly, staring into some private internal hell. ‘And has been wanting to get rid of me for a while now.’

  There was silence, then Roxanne patted Helen's hand as she searched for a way to explain.

  ‘Look, love, you must have realised by now that Robert is a gambler. I know the signs. He's been on a winning streak lately. But it won't last. It never does. He'll start to lose soon. And if he knows you've got any money of your own, he'll take it all and lose that too. And then how will you and the child eat?’

  Helen shook her head in disbelief. ‘Robert's not like that. He wouldn't take all my money. He just - he wouldn’t!’

  Roxanne sighed. She was dreading the inevitable disillusionment, not looking forward to seeing the glow fade from Helen's beautiful eyes, for one of her friend’s charms was her ability to enjoy life, the small things as well as the large. But Robert wouldn't be able to keep up this good behaviour for much longer. She was surprised he’d managed so far. Or perhaps he hadn’t managed.

  Perhaps the harmony between the Perrimans was the result of Helen’s sunny nature.

  ‘Look,’ she tried again, ‘what have you lost if you do save some money? If he stops gambling and settles down, you'll be able to surprise him. If I'm right, and he doesn't stop gambling, you'll be glad to have some money tucked away to feed yourself and your child.’

  Helen’s eyes filled with tears. ‘How can you ask me to deceive him like that?’

  ‘Think of the baby. You'll need a lot of clothes for the baby. Men never consider such things.’

  ‘Well . . . ’ And the thought of the coming baby won the day, for Helen was longing to have her own child, someone to love and cuddle and care for in every possible way. She would lie in bed and dream about him when the show was over - she felt sure it was going to be a boy, a boy as handsome as Robert! ‘Oh, all right, Roxanne! I’ll keep some money back. But I don’t like doing it.’

  ‘You don’t have to like it, just see that you keep your promise to me.’

  The deception cost Helen hours of anguish over her duplicity. Only her promise to Roxanne prevented her from giving Robert all her first earnings. It was even harder to keep quiet when he tossed the shillings she offered him back into her lap.

  ‘You earned them, my pet, you keep 'em!’

  When the company moved on to another town, the cards were less favourable and after a while, Rober
t was glad to let Helen purchase food for them from her earnings. There were even times when she had to pay the cost of their lodgings.

  She hid her disappointment that Roxanne had been right and never uttered a word of criticism to her husband. It was she who had been foolish, she told herself, investing him with all the virtues.

  She had expected too much of him. He was only human, after all.

  Robert, with no idea that his wife was a trifle disappointed in him, developed the habit of spending most of what he earned on gaming or on clothes and leaving Helen to provide for their daily needs. He did, however, remember to praise her regularly still.

  ‘You’re a little wonder.’ He saw her joy and smirked at how easy it was.

  Another night he said idly, ‘I don't know how I ever managed without you.’ Tears came into her eyes and she picked up his hand to press it to her cheek, which made him feel dashed silly.

  ‘I do love you, Robert.’

  ‘And I love you too.’ He even patted the bump of the unborn child as he said that and refrained from yawning when she speculated about whether it would be a boy or a girl, and whom it would favour, and what they should call it.

  So, for all their problems, Helen continued to live happily still.

  And Roxanne continued to marvel at her friend’s blindness.

  In Cheltenham, however, Helen’s happiness came to an abrupt end. The company played there regularly and Robert had his best following among the sentimental old ladies who yearned for the heroes of their youth, heroes who had probably been as much creatures of their imagination as Robert was.

  When he came home from the theatre, flushed with success, he found that his wife had started her labour and had never looked as ugly. The landlady had sent for the local midwife, and the latter had come, inspected her patient and said it would take a while yet. After that, she had gone home to continue her night's sleep.

  Helen bore the labour pains stoically, stifling her cries under the pillow during the night, for fear of waking Robert.

  But as the process dragged on for two days, he thought it best to move out and share a room with one of the other actors, so as not to lose his sleep and appear haggard on stage.

  Helen was left to the tender mercies of an indifferent midwife, who looked in from time to time and didn’t even think of giving her a drink or seeing that she had some food to eat. It was Roxanne who did that when she called upon her friend during the afternoon.

  When it was all over, the midwife dumped a mewling bundle into her patient's arms and told her she had a son. ‘And you're a brave lass,’ she added unexpectedly.

  Helen wept tears of joy all over the baby's head and covered his little face with kisses. She had always known she would love her child, but hadn't realised how fiercely. Oh, you shall be happy, she promised the child silently, and you shall always be most dearly loved. And no one shall ever, ever whip you!

  Roxanne came in again after the show and stayed the night with her, but Robert didn’t turn up at all.

  Helen tried to hide the unhappiness this caused her, saying stoutly that he needed his sleep, was useless without it, and the show must go on. ‘He has some new lines to learn, has he not?’

  Roxanne, who knew that Robert was out gambling, not learning lines, said nothing, but she went and confronted him the next day. ‘Have you been to see her yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I've been busy.’ He flicked a speck of dust off his coat.

  ‘Well, she needs you. You should have stayed with her.’

  ‘What use would I have been? I’d just have been in the way.’

  Roxanne held on to her temper with an effort. ‘She's your wife. And you haven't even been to see the baby. Your own son! My God, you're a rotten sod!’

  Robert scowled. ‘I'm no hand with babies. I never did like the damned squalling things!’ He was the eldest of seven. He knew exactly what babies were like.

  ‘You should have thought of that before you seduced an innocent girl!’

  He drew himself up. ‘It was love at first sight, not seduction.’

  Roxanne threw back her head and laughed. ‘You can save that sort of talk for the theatre and for those stupid enough to believe it, Rob! I certainly don't. Anyway, if you love your dear Helen so much, go and see her. Praise her a little. She's been very brave.’

  He looked at the clock on the theatre wall. ‘If you must know, I've arranged to meet a few chaps again after the show. I can't stop now. I'm on a winning streak.’ He put an arm round her and said coaxingly, ‘You stay with her for a day or two, Roxanne. You're her friend. You'll be much more use than I would. Please!’ His hand wandered over her breast and she slapped it away.

  ‘Shame on you, with your wife lying there waiting for you!’

  He grinned at her. ‘Will you, though, Rox?’

  She sighed and shook her head. ‘I must be getting soft in my old age. I will - but on one condition. You go and see her quickly now, this very minute, before the show. Take her a bunch of flowers. And don't forget to admire the baby! It's a pretty little thing.’ She saw sheer disinterest in his face. ‘I mean it. If you don't go to see her, I won't help you.’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, very well. But you'll have to lend me something to buy the flowers with. I've only got enough for my stake.’

  ‘I thought you were on a winning streak?’

  ‘I am. It’s just starting.’

  ‘I never met a gambler yet who came out a winner in the end.’ She slapped a coin into his hand.

  ‘I’m a fool, but here you are. A bunch of flowers.’

  He pocketed the money. ‘Oh, I don't do so badly with the old dice. It's just finding the stake sometimes - especially with a wife to support.’

  ‘Support! She's supporting herself, and well you know it.’ But he had gone.

  Robert went immediately to visit his wife. Best get it over with. Pulling a face at the sour smell of the room, he bent over the crumpled red face of his son and studied it dutifully. ‘People always say they look like someone, but I'm damned if I can see any resemblance. Can you?’

  ‘He looked a bit like you when he was first born, but now he just looks like himself. Aren't you pleased with him? Isn't he lovely?’

  Robert summoned up his acting powers. ‘Yes, of course. A man likes to have a son, I suppose, but I don't know much about babies, my pet.’ He wasn’t going to risk anyone involving him in the damned brat’s care. ‘He's got all his fingers and toes, I suppose?’

  ‘Of course he has! He's a beautiful baby!’ She tried to blink away the tears that this ungracious speech had brought to her eyes.

  Robert saw that he’d upset her and apologised. He didn’t want Roxanne withdrawing her help.

  ‘Sorry if I'm not saying the right sort of thing. Bit hard to get used to, being a father. What was it you wanted to call him? Damned if I can ever remember.’

  ‘Henry Robert - but we'll call him Harry.’

  ‘Why not call him Harry straight out, then? Why bother with Henry at all?’

  Head on one side, she considered this. ‘Yes. Why not?’

  ‘Why Harry anyway?’

  ‘After Henry the Eighth.’

  He roared with laughter. ‘Henry the Eighth! What's so special about him? He's dead!’

  ‘Because he had such a gusto for life. He enjoyed it. And because - because no one in my family is called Henry.’

  ‘Well, that makes a bit more sense than calling him after Henry the Eighth. Wouldn't want a son of mine named for that mincy-mouthed brute of a father of yours. You've still got a couple of scars on your back, you know. Lovely back you've got.’ He ran his finger up her cheek, looking forward to having the use of her body again, and she nestled against him trustingly.

  Before he left, he coaxed a few coins out of her to swell his stake, disarming her by a frank admission of his guilt in playing so deeply, but assuring her that he couldn't lose, that it was a game of skill they were playing tonight, not a game of chance.

&nb
sp; He had brought no flowers, had even forgotten he was supposed to.

  It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had. Helen had seen how little he cared for their son - or for her. And she wept once he’d gone.

  Chapter 4

  By the time the Marlborough Players were ready to move on, Helen had recovered her strength and Robert had discovered just how much he disliked living with a baby. Its crying set his teeth on edge, there were always cloths and little garments drying around the room, filling it with a steamy smell, and, worst of all, the baby regularly disturbed his sleep.

  Moreover, Helen was no longer solely at his service, which he had rather enjoyed. She was now more often at the service of the red-faced, howling stranger, who had to be fed at the most inconvenient times. In fact, Robert decided indignantly, that damned baby always came first with her. Not that she didn't see to her husband's laundry as efficiently as ever, and feed him well enough, but dammit, a man liked his wife to sit with him and look pretty and listen to him! Nowadays, Helen always seemed to have one ear cocked, in case Harry cried.

  And Robert detested, absolutely and utterly detested, going out for walks with a woman carrying a baby, which looked more like a bundle of dirty washing to him than a son and heir. It was not, in his opinion, a good thing for an actor to be seen like this. He enjoyed having a pretty woman hanging on his arm and listening adoringly to everything he said, but he did not enjoy squiring one who cooed at the baby, pointing out the trees and the flowers to a mindless and smelly little creature which couldn’t even focus its eyes correctly, let alone understand what she was saying.

  And so he told her.

  Which made her weep softly into her handkerchief and made him feel like brute.

  But he wasn’t going to change his mind about walking about town with a baby in public view.

  Definitely not!

  So the gloss wore off the marriage and its brief flowering came to an end. Helen found it more and more difficult to manage on the money her husband gave her, if he gave her any, and Robert took to staying out as much as possible, to avoid the caterwauling, as he called it, of his son.