by Nancy Carson
‘Is Algernon Stokes, Esquire, about?’ he asked, sarcastically pronouncing the word esquire.
‘In the paint shop, Mr Sampson,’ Whitehouse answered deferentially. ‘I’ll go and fetch him for yeh, if yer like.’
‘Tell him it’s urgent.’
Benjamin stood and waited, grim-faced, looking around, taking mental note of the trappings of bicycle manufacture as Algernon Stokes, Esq. had organised it.
Within a couple of minutes Algie appeared, wiping his oily hands on a grubby rag. He was dressed in shabby working clothes and could easily have been mistaken for a labourer.
‘Benjamin,’ Algie greeted cautiously. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘You and me need to have a little chat, Stokes,’ Benjamin replied, unsmiling.
‘Oh? About what?’ The fact that Benjamin was actually present and called him by his surname put Algie on his guard.
‘I think it would be to your advantage if we talk somewhere more private than this workshop.’
‘My office if you like – over there in the corner.’
Benjamin had wondered, as he mentally noted the workshop, whether the untidy cubicle-like construction of wood and glass in the corner was the administrative hub of the pitiful empire. The invitation confirmed it.
‘Is there room in there for both of us as well as all the paraphernalia that furnishes it?’ he scoffed. ‘No, it’ll be better if we talk outside. Walls have ears.’
‘As you like,’ Algie responded lightly, aware that Benjamin seemed even more brusque than usual, and that something monumental was plaguing him. He tossed the rag he was holding onto the workbench and headed for the door.
Benjamin followed, taut with anticipation.
‘Did you enjoy the wedding?’ Algie asked conversationally, trying to ease the manifest tension. ‘I thought old Eli Meese put on a decent spread and gave Harriet a good send-off. Don’t you?’
‘I ain’t here to mull over that circus.’
Algie smiled to himself. ‘What then?’
They stopped walking at the periphery of the untidy parcel of land that accommodated the entire Ranger Cycles domain, well away from the ears of employees.
‘I’ve got a very big bone to pick with you, Stokes. You see, when I got home from my bit of business after the wedding, Aurelia was sitting in the scullery brewing a pot of tea.’
‘That’s a scandal,’ Algie exclaimed with sarcasm devised to rile. ‘Is it true then that you can’t afford a maid these days?’
‘Oh, don’t try to be clever with me, Stokes,’ he retorted impatiently. ‘Unfortunately for you, it presented the opportunity – long overdue – for me and my wife to have a bit of a heart to heart. I think you know, Stokes, that my marriage hasn’t been the outright success it might have been, what with one thing and another, but I managed to eke a confession out of Aurelia last night – that you and she had quite a fling a while back, afore you got wed.’
‘Aurelia told you that?’ Algie’s heart went to his mouth with a thump. Although it was not beyond the realms of possibility that Benjamin could have found out about the affair with Aurelia, as far as he was concerned it was unlikely that Aurelia would ever confess it, especially to her husband. So how should he respond? The consequences could be monstrous.
‘Aye,’ Benjamin continued assertively. ‘She confessed everything, including the fact that you fathered her second child – Christina.’
‘Christina? You’re saying she’s mine?’ Algie suddenly became very hot, and clearly agitated. ‘But…But…’ he stammered. This was a notion Algie had of course pondered, but never allowed himself to acknowledge, simply because the implications, if revealed, would create too many difficulties.
His hesitancy and unwitting lack of a denial was as good as an outright confession to Benjamin. He had thrown Algie and felt vindicated, so the conviction of his accusation grew stronger. ‘Yes, yours, Stokes. As sure as eggs is eggs. The child’s a bastard – your bastard.’
‘And how can you be so sure?’
‘Because she and me never coupled at the time she must have conceived, that’s how.’
Algie recalled that Aurelia had implied that she and Benjamin had coupled at about the time they were having their affair, to his grievance then.
‘Well, I suppose you were getting all the coupling you could cope with from Maude Atkins, eh?’ Algie riposted, recovering quickly from the shock of the accusations and aiming to give as good as he was getting.
‘That’s neither here nor there, Stokes, and bugger all to do with you. A man has to satisfy his needs, as you must know. Now…we’re both men of the world. We both know the consequences of what’s gone on. So I just want to let you know that I’ll be petitioning for divorce…Adultery…Aurelia’s adultery, o’ course. And you’ll be named as co-respondent.’
Algie gulped. This was serious stuff, and hitherto unanticipated. Suddenly, without warning, he was about to be thrust centre stage into a scandal that could destroy the people he loved. He’d had no time to ponder the consequences. There was Marigold to consider, his daughter Rose, his poor mother, not to mention the stigma that would attach itself to them all.
‘And what if the boot were on the other foot, Benjamin? What if Aurelia decided to divorce you for your adultery? You’re as guilty of it as she is, by your own admission.’
Benjamin shrugged indifferently. ‘Either way, I’d win custody of my son. Aurelia ain’t worthy of keeping the child, she ain’t a fit mother, so there’s no advantage to her divorcing me. Anyway, she couldn’t afford to divorce me. Without me she ain’t got two pennies to scratch her backside with. Besides, I want the satisfaction of citing you as co-respondent. I want the world and your little wife to know that you broke up my marriage.’
‘I broke up your marriage? You vindictive swine, you ruined your own marriage, without any help from me. I’ll fight you all the way, Sampson. Every inch of it.’
‘If you must. But you’ll take your medicine.’
‘On the other hand, Sampson, I’ll make sure it’s very expensive for you.’
Of course, Algie had to concede to himself that he was guilty of the affair, and that affair carried with it its inevitable burden of consequences, consequences which he must accept. He’d never seriously dwelt on the notion that Aurelia’s second child might be his. He should have done. Most decidedly he should have done. By some strange human quirk of unwillingness to consider and countenance the far-reaching outcomes, he had not…Now it came as a bewildering predicament.
‘If you intend to deny what is patently true, Stokes, then I’ll have no alternative but to seek out that guttersnipe of a bargee’s wench you married and impart the news to her—’
Algie lashed out instinctively at hearing the unwarranted slur on Marigold, and with his oily fist hit Benjamin in the side of the face at the cheekbone. Benjamin reeled and stumbled, his top hat flew off his head and rolled in a bobbling arc towards the gate, assisted by the breeze. It gave Algie the greatest satisfaction; he had yearned to do it for such a long time, as just recompense for so many grievances accumulated over time.
‘Go within a mile of my wife, Sampson,’ Algie rasped, his voice thin with boiling anger, an oily finger wagging furiously, ‘and I’ll part you from your overworked bollocks. Now sod off.’
Benjamin dragged himself to his feet and dusted himself off. He rubbed his cheek and inspected his fingers to see if there was any blood. There was none, but the blow stung, and he sensed a massive bruise was just beginning to burn. He managed a grin of defiance, as much as to say, ‘That didn’t hurt me, but I can hurt you a great deal more.’
‘I imagine it’ll come as a bit of a shock to her, eh, Stokes, your common little wife and mine being as thick as thieves and all that?’
‘Pick up your fancy hat and sod off,’ Algie rasped, frustrated that Benjamin still heedlessly chose to insult Marigold’s name. ‘And if you think you’re going to cite me as co-respondent in your divorce, you�
�d better think again. If there’s any divorcing to be done, Aurelia will be divorcing you, and she’ll cite Maude Atkins…and I’ll be the one to see to it.’
Empty threats. Algie knew it, even though he’d said it. How could he be party to such proceedings without incriminating himself anyway in Marigold’s eyes?
Benjamin picked up his hat and patted the dust off it. ‘Aye, a fool and his money are soon parted,’ he snorted truculently. ‘Anyway, you’ve as good as confessed to the affair. Your reactions have given you away, and no mistake. You and my wife had a fling and she bore your bastard. It’s as straightforward as that.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Sampson? Sod off now if you don’t want another hiding.’
‘Another hiding?’ He grinned provocatively. ‘The first assault could get you in jail, Stokes. I might just decide to pursue that as well while I’m at it. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers on both counts in due course.’
Benjamin turned and walked away. Algie watched as his adversary unhitched the gig, clambered aboard and donned his dusty hat. Listening to the click-clack of the horse’s hooves fading into the distance he felt sick, weary, frustrated at the prospect of what all this would inevitably do to Marigold. Poor, unsuspecting, innocent Marigold. It would floor her. It would be the end of the contented married life they had both slipped into, and so easily taken for granted. He also felt ashamed that he had never seriously conceded that little Christina might be his own, when now it seemed a certainty. And if so, he was taking no responsibility for the child, a fact that ran utterly against the grain of his principles.
Algie seemed rooted to the spot. He stood for some minutes in a state of bewilderment, his mind awhirl with everything Benjamin had said. Over and over, he relived their conversation, inventing things he might have said instead of the things he had. The problem was not about to go away, though. How would he broach this unbroachable subject with Marigold? Marigold did not deserve what she was about to get. How could he possibly confess to her that he had fathered a child with her own half-sister who was now also her best, her closest, friend? Worse, Aurelia’s despised father had also married his own mother soon after her widowhood; so technically, Aurelia was his stepsister…yet by the same chalk, so too was Marigold.
Marigold’s relationship with Aurelia, to whom she was devoted, would be ruined. It would change Marigold’s perception of him forever, her esteem for him would collapse, and he would have to work extremely hard to regain it.
He made it to the building with the skew-whiff chimney pot and entered his tiny office. He closed the door, unaware that the eyes of the men he employed were upon him, wondering why he suddenly looked so pale and preoccupied after the visit of his business rival Benjamin Sampson. He sat down, looked up at the ceiling as if for inspiration, then put his head in his hands…and silently wept.
Chapter 8
Some half an hour later, Algie spoke to the men, two of whom were in the workshop in the building with the skew-whiff chimney. One of them was Whitehouse.
‘I have to go out, Harry,’ he said morosely. ‘I might be an hour or so. Keep an eye on things, eh?’
‘Summat amiss, gaffer?’
‘Something’s cropped up,’ Algie answered, giving nothing away.
‘Summat to do wi’ that weasel Sampson, eh?’
Algie nodded glumly. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He grabbed his bicycle that was leaning against the wall near the door, and wheeled it outside. Once on the lane, he cocked his leg over the saddle and pushed off.
He had to see Aurelia. It was vital. They must talk about this calamity that had so unexpectedly befallen them, form some plan of action, for it concerned her as much as it concerned him. Besides, he needed her considered advice as to how they both should handle this desperate situation before ever he mention a word to Marigold.
As he rode, he was oblivious to the streets and the streets’ activities. His mind, his thoughts, were focused entirely on the immediate problem and the depth to which he was implicated. He dreaded the inevitable aftermath.
At Holly Hall, breathing hard from his exertions, he rounded a huffing steam tramcar that had halted to drop off and pick up passengers. He was careful not to entrap his narrow wheels and tyres in the equally narrow and perfectly fitting channel in which the flanges of the tram’s wheels rolled. Even in his preoccupation he was aware that to do so would ensure a painful and ignominious tumble, and he did not relish a painful and ignominious tumble. Ignominy was already knocking hard on his door.
He passed the turning that led to Kingswinford, and soon arrived at Holly Hall House, the home of Benjamin Sampson. There was no sign of Benjamin’s horse and gig, so he decided it was, after all, a reasonably safe time to approach.
He rapped on the brass knocker. Eventually a maid, neat and tidy, unfamiliar, plain and mature, opened the door to him.
‘Is Mrs Sampson in? I’d very much like to see her.’
‘Who shall I say is calling, sir?’
‘Algie Stokes, if you please.’
She nodded and half closed the door. He waited agitatedly, tempted to push it open a little to glean what reaction inside the house his appearing might engender. Yet he did not; he had too much respect for Aurelia. Within a few short moments Aurelia herself was at the door, holding Christina in her arms. At the sight of mother and daughter, his heart lurched, and no wonder; here was a woman he had previously known as intimately as a man can know a woman, and she held in her arms the very consequence of that profound intimacy.
‘Algie! This is a surprise.’ She began to feel excitement at his unexpected presence, till she saw his troubled demeanour. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘We need to talk.’
‘Come in, please come in,’ she said, stepping aside to allow him entrance. ‘Let’s go in the sitting room…’ She turned to the maid. ‘Jane, would you be so kind as to brew us a pot of tea? I take it you’ll take a cup of tea, Algie?’
‘I’d love a cup of tea. Thank you.’
Jane duly scurried to the kitchen, while Aurelia led Algie to the small sitting room.
‘I assume Benjamin’s not here?’
She turned to him and smiled. ‘Of course he’s not.’ She closed the sitting room door behind them and they stood facing each other.
Algie looked intently, benevolently, smiling at the child that was evidently his, sitting up attentively in its mother’s arms. He reached out and ran his forefinger gently down her cheek. ‘Hello, little Christina,’ he said softly. ‘You’re just as beautiful as your mother, you know…’
Christina bashfully hid her face against her mother’s shoulder.
‘Gracious, are you shy of Uncle Algie?’ Aurelia cooed.
‘Not “Uncle”, I believe,’ he remarked gently. ‘Not strictly “Uncle” at any rate.’
Their eyes met.
Aurelia regarded him with unease, at once comprehending, and with her comprehension came the first feelings of guilt that she had never let Algie know that Christina was his child.
‘If what I’ve been told is right, then I’m the father of this beautiful child,’ he said kindly.
‘Shall we sit down, Algie?’ She did not know what to make of this sudden affirmation, how to react.
They sat beside each other on a settee, the red velvet covering of which reminded him of theatre seats. It faced the cold, empty fireplace, but the sun was streaming in soft and warm through a large window to their left. Aurelia, sitting with her back erect, settled the child in her lap.
‘Let me hold her,’ he said, and held out his arms to receive her. ‘I should try and get to know her a bit better.’
Aurelia passed Christina to him. The baby manifested a wide-eyed look of confusion, but with mother so close, she made no murmur of objection, and Algie hugged her to him, and whispered, ‘Hello, Christina. I’m your daddy, you know…but for now we have to keep it a secret…’
He looked at Aurelia. ‘I do wish I’d kno
wn,’ he said softly. ‘I honestly didn’t know. Not for sure anyway. The thought had crossed my mind, but I never sort of allowed it any weight because of all it would entail. And you never gave me any inkling.’
Aurelia sighed, meeting his eyes again. ‘I dearly wish I could have,’ she said sincerely, ‘but it would have created too many problems. I can only apologise, Algie. But what use is an apology? There were too many other considerations. Do you see?’
‘I do see, and there’s no need to apologise. I’m beginning to understand. It all falls into place now.’ He shook his head as events and Aurelia’s actions started to make sense. The whole sequence was like a book revealing its story, sentence by sentence. ‘So when you ended our affair all you were doing was sacrificing yourself in favour of Marigold?’
‘If that’s the way you want to look at it, Algie. But I had a husband. Marigold did not. I had it within my power to reunite the two of you, so I did. I thought about it long and hard, and it seemed so much more practical.’ She sighed profoundly. ‘I’d only recently met Marigold for the very first time. I soon discovered she was my half-sister. She had just given birth to Rose and she had nobody if she didn’t have you…Her child was yours. Please don’t condemn me for what I did, Algie. I thought it was best for everybody.’
He reached for her hand and held it reassuringly, aware that it was the first time he had touched her intimately and in private since those heady days and nights, also aware of the effect it could have on them both.
‘I don’t condemn you for it at all,’ he answered softly. ‘I should thank you from the bottom of my heart. If I’d been in your shoes I doubt whether I could’ve been half so noble.’
‘Oh, nobleness didn’t enter into it, Algie, I assure you. It was expediency.’
‘Expediency?’ He was not certain of the word’s meaning.
She nodded. ‘The most convenient solution for everybody. So how did you find out?’
