And at this, Marie Anne answered pertly, ‘Yes; there are still a few things, but they’ll come to mind shortly.’
This exchange brought the two men looking at each other; then Emanuel Lawson said, ‘What was your wage when you worked for Martha Culmill?’
‘Six shillings a week, sir.’
‘Six shillings a week!’ he repeated incredulously as he glanced towards Pat. ‘Were there any servants?’
‘A cook-general and a young maid.’
‘No night nurse and such relief?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And tell me, what did you allow your sister out of that?’
Sarah moved slightly along the couch as if she wanted to evade the question: she didn’t like it; it was her own business what she did with her money. But anyway, here was a man who wanted answers and so she said, ‘Half; three shillings.’
‘So it’s a matter of money that’s keeping you tied to your sister and her family?’
‘No; no, sir, not altogether; I’m very fond of them. They’re the only family I’ve got and if I was hard pushed for a job I could always go back there. And that’s where I took Miss Marie Anne when we were up against it.’
‘But her main need, at the moment, is money. Isn’t that so?’
‘Well…yes, I suppose so.’ Her head was nodding. ‘When you come down to rock bottom it’s always a matter of money.’
‘You’re right there. You’re right there. So, this is my proposition: I want a housekeeper. I’m willing to pay her a pound a week, added to which will be her keep, her uniform and a comfortable apartment. That’s how it’s said, isn’t it, Pat?’
Pat was laughing outright now, and he knew his grandfather was enjoying this interview as he enjoyed few things, and so he said, ‘Yes, Grandfather; something like that.’
‘So, Miss Foggerty, that is my proposition.’
Marie Anne had come back to the couch and taken her seat beside Sarah again, and she was now holding her hand, and she saw that this dear friend of hers was unable to speak. Presently, as they sat looking at each other, Sarah muttered, throatily, ‘But what about our flat upstairs and all the bits and pieces?’
‘I’ve thought about that,’ said Marie Anne. ‘I’ll continue to pay the rent on that, because I’ll definitely be making money out of my drawings, and it will be a place for the older girls to sleep, and perhaps a place for Annie to escape to. And, you know, I feel I owe the tribe something, because the editor wouldn’t have taken those other drawings if he hadn’t first seen the dinner table one.’
‘Well now’—the old man had risen briskly from his chair—‘what time can we get a train back today?’
‘Today, Grandfather?’
‘Yes; you heard me, Pat, today.’
‘Well, it’s nearly eleven now. I think there’s a train leaves about one.’
‘Oh! We must say goodbye to our friends,’ Marie Anne put in.
‘Are these friends of yours very far away, Marie Anne?’
‘No, Grandpa, ten minutes.’
‘And your flat is quite near. So you have an hour or less to be back here, bag and baggage, for I’—his voice trailed off—‘I dearly want to get home and out of this city. The air stifles me.’
‘Yes, Grandpa; we’ll be back, bag and baggage.’ She leant towards him and kissed his cheek, saying, ‘Oh, you don’t know, Grandpa, how lovely it is to see you again,’ and he, putting his hand on her hair, said, ‘For me too, my dear, for me too. But there now, go along.’ But he pulled her back to him and, in a stage whisper, said, ‘And keep a close watch on your friend, because I can see her reneging before we get onto that train.’
Marie Anne laughed, saying, ‘No, she won’t, Grandpa; she’s going to love it, I know. Aren’t you, Sarah?’
‘That remains to be seen, miss; and if I can’t stand things I can always go to Mr McAlister’s. He tells me he lives just along the river bank.’
The old man’s face was straight now as he said, ‘Yes; speaking of Mr McAlister, we have a lot to thank that gentleman for, and we must never forget that.’
‘No, Grandpa; as you say, we must never forget that.’ …
It was Mr McAlister who saw them into their compartments. It was Mr McAlister who had sent a wire to one Barney Makepeace of The Little Manor, Moorstone, near Chester-le-Street, Northumberland, and the message ran:
HAVE MAIN CARRIAGE DURHAM STATION,
SEVEN O’CLOCK TODAY.
And it was Mr McAlister who had surprised the old gentleman by refusing to return with them, because he had promised the Brothers he would spend the New Year at the priory.
And it was Mr McAlister’s face, the visible part of it, that had taken on a deep rosy hue when Sarah Foggerty had at the last minute reached up and cupped his maimed cheek with her hand and looked deeply into his eyes.
But the effect on him was not evident when Marie Anne, after offering him her hand, said, ‘Thank you for giving me a new lease of life. I don’t know what the future holds, but I shall never forget the relief I am feeling at the present moment, and it is all due to you. Thank you.’…
He remained standing on the platform until the train disappeared from sight; and then he walked slowly out into the murky thoroughfare to make his way back to the Brothers’ house. Before this he had always enjoyed bringing in the New Year in the company of the Brothers, but during the last few days he had experienced association with women…well, a woman and a girl…a strangely beautiful girl at that, and their presence had created a new warmth in him. But now a harsh reprimanding voice from within said, ‘The quicker that feeling is put in its place the quicker you’ll return to your normal way of life.’
As he mounted the horse-bus he imagined he must be feeling like a man whose one desire was to get blind drunk; but knowing he could not take advantage of the suggestion, he decided, if the opportunity should arise this evening to sample Brother Peter’s latest brew. He would not refuse it, for whatever harm it might do to the stomach, it would certainly bring oblivion to the mind.
PART THREE
One
The family, with the exception of Patrick, was gathered in the study. This room lay between the library and the billiard room, and its situation made it possible for a voice to be raised without it being overheard in the main part of the house; and Veronica Lawson’s voice was certainly raised now as she addressed her husband, who was sitting in a leather chair to the right of the fireplace.
‘Do something! D’you hear? Do something. You must. Go down there and have it out with him. Ask him plainly what more he is going to do to us.’
James Lawson was bent forward, his hands gripped together in front of his protruding stomach, his gaze seeming to be concentrated on the rug at his feet, and when his wife’s tirade ended with the words, ‘It’s not to be borne; and I won’t stand any more,’ he slowly straightened his position and, looking up at her to where she was standing to the side of his chair, in a dull heavy voice he asked, ‘What are you going to do then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just what I say. If you can’t stand any more, what are you going to do about it?’
Veronica Lawson took in a deep breath and shifted her gaze to her son, seated opposite, then to her elder daughter, who was standing looking out of the window and onto the snow-covered garden, and for a moment it would appear that she was lost for a reply; but not so: ‘I’ll go down there myself and demand,’ she said.
‘Shut up, Mother!’ Vincent had risen to his feet, and he went on, ‘Anyway, I don’t think we’ll have to wait much longer for the climax. This morning I overheard Billings chattering in the stable. It appears Young took Grandfather into Ferguson’s office last week, and Ferguson came with his clerk yesterday.’
‘The solicitor?’ The word came out high from Veronica Lawson’s mouth, and her lips drew back from her teeth for a moment before she repeated, ‘The solicitor?’
‘That’s what I heard, Mother; so we can only await h
is next move.’
‘What more can he do to us?’ she now appealed to her husband. ‘He has taken our carriage and Young who has been with us for years, as well as two yard men.’
With an impatient movement James Lawson pulled himself to his feet and reached up to grip the mantelpiece, and his voice was certainly not quiet as he corrected his wife, saying, ‘He has taken his carriage and his men, Veronica.’ Then swinging about, he looked at her and, almost yelling now, he said, ‘Have you asked yourself who is to blame for all this? No; no. It’s all put on Marie Anne; but if you had ever played the mother towards that child as you have done to Evelyn there’—he pointed towards the window—‘we wouldn’t be in the state we are in today. The trouble with you is, you’re an unnatural woman, all through. Do you hear me?’
‘Father!’ Vincent’s voice came like a reprimand, and James turned on him, actually yelling now, ‘Don’t you use that tone to me, either. I should have dealt with you years ago, for at bottom I’ve recognised you are a cruel bugger; and you were the means of getting the child into trouble more than once. So don’t you come and dictate to me in any shape or form. D’you hear me?’
Evelyn had turned from the window, amazement on her face, for this was the first time she had heard her father speak as he was doing now as master in his own house, or, to be more correct, in his father’s house, for this had been made very plain during the last three weeks since Marie Anne had come back. And for the first time she felt respect for him when he turned and marched from the room, banging the door behind him.
Before any of them had regained their breath, the door opened again, and Pat entered, saying, ‘I have just told Father we all have to assemble in the library at two o’clock this afternoon. Grandpa will come here.’
‘Orders from the palace. I thought you said you weren’t going to act as a go-between.’
‘Nor am I, but this is a private matter, as I think you will find out.’
‘So it’s all cut and dried.’
‘No; it is not all cut and dried; I know no more than you do about what Grandfather intends to do or say.’
His mother now stepped towards him, saying, ‘But I hear that he’s seen his solicitor. The man was with him yesterday, and he was at their office last week.’
‘Well, if that’s what you’ve heard, Mother, it’s likely right.’
‘Oh; and you don’t know anything about it?’ Vincent demanded.
Patrick rounded on Vincent, ‘In this case you’re right; I don’t know anything about it. Nor do I want to know. This is not my battle.’
‘No?’ It was a question. ‘But you jumped at the chance to go and live with him,’ in answer to which Pat said, ‘Yes; and glad to do so, for with no stretch of the imagination could anyone say this is a happy house, or has ever been so.’
‘Oh!’ It was an agonised cry now from his mother. ‘I can’t bear any more. I can’t. I can’t,’ and at this she made a rush for the door; and Vincent, about to follow her, turned and hissed at Patrick, ‘One of these days, boy, I’ll settle with you. You wait and see.’
Left alone, the brother and sister looked at each other, before Evelyn walked slowly towards him and asked quietly, ‘You don’t really know what’s afoot?’
Shaking his head, Pat answered her: ‘Honest, Evelyn, I don’t. I know he’s making changes, for he wanted to discuss it with me; but I said no, it was better that he kept it to himself.’
‘Do you think it’s something drastic?’
‘I couldn’t say. I only know that changes are going to be made. How and where, I don’t know; but why, I do know, and that why is Mother. Apparently Grandfather never wanted her as a daughter-in-law; however, once she was established he did his best to meet her halfway. But her ambitions for recognition in the county got under his skin. He and Grandma were highly respected and all doors were open to them. But he was never a man for visiting. His life was given over to the business, and the first clash between Mother and him, I understand, was when she was for sending out invitations to a ball, and two-thirds of the guests he had never heard of, never mind met. This was during the second year of the marriage, and he put his foot down, and there it remained until Grandma died, from which time Mother took on her string-pulling again. Well, you’ve had a taste of it, Evelyn, and from what I gathered a few weeks ago she’s still at it. This man she has lined up for you; how d’you feel about him?’
‘I don’t know, Pat. He is more than twice my age and has been married before. Quite honestly, the prospect makes me shudder, yet it seems it has to be him, or Mother and this house for the rest of my life. I am twenty-six years old, Pat, and I can’t see young men flocking to my feet again, can you? But then, they never did.’
‘What’s twenty-six these days? Opinions are changing. It’s talked of in places that when the Queen goes, and she can’t last for much longer, there’ll be a revolution in thought. For instance, there’ll be a man on the throne and he, as you know,’—he smiled here—‘is a very liberal thinker. But seriously, don’t do this just to be able to leave home, please, Evelyn! Because there’s bound to be somebody, bound to be. You are a beautiful woman, girl…you’re still a girl to me and you don’t look your age, not by years, that’s when you’re smiling and your back bends a little.’
She put out her hand and caught his. ‘You know, Pat, it’s strange, but ever since the night I gave way and cried I’ve felt different altogether inside. I wish I could say lighter, but definitely it’s different. I seem to be seeing people in a different way. Even Marie Anne. But, oh dear! Dear! I thought the other night that if she had been born to royalty, the whole world would have been at war.’
At this he laughed outright, saying, ‘Poor Marie Anne, creator of wars now; and if you really knew her, Evelyn,you would find her of a kind and endearing nature. But speaking of wars, I’m dreading this afternoon.’
‘Is it true that Grandfather has that branded man up to dinner in the house sometimes?’
‘Yes; yes, it is, Evelyn. And the branded man, as you have referred to him, is Don McAlister, and he is an educated and intelligent man, and a clever sculptor into the bargain.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘What’s the matter with his face then?’
‘I don’t know; I’ve never asked him.’
‘Was he burnt?’
‘I really don’t know, Evelyn.’
‘I heard Fanny Carter and Jones talking one day before they were sent to The Little Manor. It was about the maid, the Makepeace’s girl, Katie. She is supposed to have squealed the house down when she first saw the man at the front door. Had he anything to do with Marie Anne’s coming back?’
‘Yes; everything, Evelyn, everything. It was he who found her. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.’
She stared at him as she said, ‘D’you really mean to stay there; I mean, to live there with Grandfather?’
‘Yes; yes, I do. There’s a different atmosphere altogether in that house: you hear people laughing and not afraid to do so.’
Her voice had the old tartness to it as she said, ‘Well, you should have been here for the last fortnight and you would have heard laughter all right. We’ve never had so many visitors in years, all expecting to see the errant daughter, and all so solicitous in an underhand way, while laughing up their sleeves at Mother. I can’t help it, but at times I have felt sorry for her, having to put on a face when all she wanted to do was slap them. And she’s sick at heart; I know now it’s because she hasn’t had a formal invitation to The Hall Ball, even though during our visit there before Christmas, Lady Knight was discussing it with her as if our presence were a foregone conclusion. What’s made things worse, in my opinion, is that a maid was dismissed from there not so long ago. She was in the same condition as Marie Anne…but she was thrown out, not welcomed back like the prodigal daughter.’
Evelyn turned sharply away and walked from him back to the window.
He looked to
wards her rather sadly—the old Evelyn was still there. But it was understandable.
And on this, he went out.
It was the butler, Frank Pickford, who opened the door to the old master and Mister Patrick, saying, ‘Good afternoon, sir.’ He then proceeded to help the old man off with his coat.
‘Where are they?’
‘The family are in the drawing room, sir.’
‘Well, tell them to come to the library.’
Almost five minutes later Veronica Lawson, a step ahead of her husband, entered the room; Evelyn followed, leaving Vincent to close the door none too quietly behind them, and they all stood for a moment looking towards Emanuel, who sat at the far end of the long library table, on which he had set out a number of parchment-looking papers. Returning their gaze, he said, ‘Well, since you’re here you might as well sit down; it’s going to be a long session. But you, James’—his voice seemed to soften a little—‘I’d like you to sit beside me, here, and opposite Patrick.’
‘Yes, Father.’
As James obeyed his father’s request it would seem that the quick action of Vincent placing a chair for his mother and almost pushing her into it, stopped her from expressing straight away her opinion of the whole situation. The chair was at the end of the table, and she immediately laid her hands on the inlaid leather top and drummed her fingers quite loudly until Emanuel, looking down the table towards her, said, ‘When you’ve finished with your war signal, Veronica, and Vincent and Evelyn have seated themselves, I shall begin.’
Emanuel waited a further moment before picking up from the table a roll of parchment and wagging it, saying, ‘I don’t think any of you know the real history of this house and The Little Manor, as it’s called, but if you have, it won’t hurt you; in fact it is necessary that you should hear it again. The Little Manor was built in 1750 and its name then was The Fallow. Why, I don’t know, except that it’s like a field at rest, being on flat ground. The owner was one Isaac Wilding, who was in shipping. Eight hundred acres of land went with it, and six hundred more were leased as a little farm, which today is still under lease to Mr Harding. At this time, Mr Wilding’s business was prospering at such a rate he decided to live in a bigger and better house. He was an ambitious man, and he also had an ambitious wife.’ Emanuel did not raise his eyes and look at his daughter-in-law, but went on, ‘He bought another fourteen hundred acres and on it he built this house and collected a stud of horses. He lived well, I understand, and entertained lavishly; and he overspent lavishly and so his business went bust.
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