Consequences

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Not on your nelly. I’m done with him. I never want to see him again as long as I live.’

  ‘Well, if you have nowhere to stay, would you like to stay here for a few days, while you get something sorted out?’ Aurelia felt obliged to ask, in this new-found solidarity.

  ‘Oh, no, Mrs Sampson. I wouldn’t presume. I wouldn’t expect it, nor do I deserve such consideration from you. But I do deserve better from him. I’ve given him everything, unstintingly – my love, my devotion, my life. And this is how he repays me. So I’ve decided, among other things, that he doesn’t deserve that I should look after Benjie. He’s simply been using me to get back at you. The thing is, Mrs Sampson, I have my own child to look after, and Benjie belongs with you. I’ve always thought it. That’s why I’ve brought him back to you.’

  Aurelia felt her eyes filling with tears. ‘Oh, Maude…’ She reached out to her and touched her hand. She felt inordinately sorry for the woman, despite all, for she was going through hell. ‘I am so grateful, Maude…’

  ‘The only thing is, Mrs Sampson, Benjamin was awarded custody by the divorce court, wasn’t he?’

  ‘It’s unfortunate, but true.’

  ‘So whatever happens, please fight him on it.’ The venom of the woman scorned was now evident in Maude’s tone, and a flash of the spirit Aurelia always admired in her as a nanny. ‘He’s not treated me fair at all, Mrs Sampson, and now I can see he’s not treated you fair either. If it came to it, I think the court would change its decision and let you have custody, especially when it knows about this last episode. I’ll be a witness for you, if you want me to. I’d soon tell them what he’s like. He doesn’t deserve me, and he certainly doesn’t deserve Benjie.’

  ‘So what shall you do?’ Aurelia asked, with obvious concern for the young woman’s welfare, and the welfare of her baby daughter. ‘Shall you go back to your family?’

  Maude shook her head. ‘My family cut me off when they knew I was carrying Louise – a child I’d conceived adulterously. They disowned me. Oh, I knew they would. They always considered themselves respectable – churchgoers. My father is a churchwarden, so I was brought up to be virtuous, God-fearing and all that, and I brought shame on them. They’ll never forgive me.’

  ‘But don’t you think they would love to see their granddaughter?’

  Maude shook her head, and tears welled up in her eyes. ‘They don’t acknowledge that she even exists.’

  ‘Would you like me to go and talk to them, Maude? I will if you like. I remember the address from when you applied for the position of nanny. Maybe I could persuade them…’

  ‘It’s kind of you to offer, Mrs Sampson, very kind, but it wouldn’t do any good. Especially now that I’m carrying a second child – also conceived out of wedlock, of course…Well, you can just imagine what they’d say, can’t you?’

  ‘You’re carrying another child?’ Aurelia queried. ‘Benjamin’s, I presume?’

  ‘There’s been nobody else, Mrs Sampson, I assure you.’

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘D’you think it would make any difference?’

  ‘Perhaps not, if he’s obsessed with another woman,’ Aurelia replied.

  ‘He led me to believe we should be married after his divorce was all settled.’

  ‘I know, Maude. That’s what he told the court. That was the main reason he was awarded custody, I believe.’

  Maude wiped away tears that were trickling down her cheeks. ‘Well, it’s obvious to me now that he never had any such intention. But after this latest episode, I wouldn’t marry him anyway, even if you were to crown me with gold.’

  ‘Maude, I am so sorry,’ Aurelia said sincerely. ‘Benjamin will either rise or fall, but whichever, it will always be of his own making. If he falls, it’s none of your doing. Nevertheless, it’s deplorable that he should affect others so severely because of his callousness and ineptitude. You are well out of it, Maude, believe me, as I am well out of it. I simply wish you well now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Maude dabbed her eyes again.

  ‘How can I ever thank you for bringing Benjie back to me?’ She reached out and tousled her small son’s hair affectionately while he continued to draw quietly. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do – in my own limited capacity – do please let me know. I realise that there will be another battle to fight over custody, but now I really think I’ve got a brilliant chance of winning.’

  Maude smiled sadly and rose from her chair. ‘Well, I’ve done what I came to do, Mrs Sampson. And I hope I’ve made my peace with you. That, in itself, has lightened my load a little bit.’

  Aurelia rose with her and touched her arm. ‘Thank you, Maude.’ She ran the back of her hand gently down Louise’s cheek. ‘I think she looks a little like Benjamin,’ she observed. ‘But never mind – children change so much – I’m sure she’ll end up looking much more like you.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Maude replied with a sincere smile. Then, she bent down and kissed Benjie on the top of his head. ‘Goodbye, Benjie.’ She straightened up and looked at Aurelia with renewed respect. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Sampson. I wish you and Benjie well. He’s a credit to you, you know – a lovely boy…Look, here are some of his things that I was able to gather up before we were evicted.’ She delved into her bag and pulled out his small items of clothing, and Aurelia gladly took them.

  At that, she turned and, with Louise settled on her other arm, she opened the door and went on her way.

  * * *

  It was a long trek carrying a bag of clothes and a child all the way from Brierley Hill to Wordsley, especially so because the rain was pouring again. But Maude knew exactly where she was going.

  As a girl in her teen years, decently educated and growing more aware of her sexuality, she had nurtured dreams of visiting France and Italy and Switzerland, with a husband wealthy enough to afford extravagances, as well as being kind and doting enough to ensure her happiness. She had imagined herself, with her kind and doting husband, sitting at a table on some seaward-facing terrace in Monte Carlo, surrounded by gloriously colourful gardens, enthusiastically acclaiming the sunshine that made the sea glitter and the fine architecture appear luminous. She had dreamily pictured evenings sipping champagne, dinners fit for gods in fine foreign restaurants that resounded with the tinkle of crystal glass, silver and porcelain, where every well-lit table was a centre of laughter and stimulating conversation.

  Maude had believed that the wealthy husband of her dreams was to be Benjamin. The fact that he was already married to another, when she first took employment at Holly Hall House, was neither here nor there, a mere obstacle that she could overcome. At the outset she had encouraged him with flirting glances, to which he responded easily. She could see that he was attainable, that she had the power of allure over him. Besides, it was clear that he was not entirely content with his beautiful wife, nor his beautiful wife with him.

  The Stourbridge Union Workhouse at Wordsley, however, was just about as far from Maude’s ideal as it was possible to get. With nowhere else to go, she approached the formidable red-brick building with full acceptance of her situation. Her acquiescence, however, began to wither at the sight of the ill-shod and ill-kempt ragamuffins she passed on the long pathway to the entrance. The story of their lives was written in their appearance, and she wondered if her own history was already likewise written in hers. She would be sharing her life – or a part of it – with the likes of them. They stared at her and her child, and she imagined they were thinking of her what she was thinking of them, just another poor soul with no money, no prospects and no hope, indescribably lonely and pathetic.

  She entered, and the huge wooden door slammed ominously shut behind her. A shudder ran up and down her spine. Stories abounded about the squalor and the institutional cruelty of the workhouses. If those ancient tales were true, she would have to tolerate it, because she had nowhere else to go. Yet she was inclined to discount such stories, simply because she was literate, intelligent, and
had read in the newspapers how reforms over recent years had instilled a more caring ethic. She had faith.

  A man and a woman were talking at a long counter with a person Maude imagined must be an inmate. When the woman saw Maude approach she detached herself from the group and looked at her questioningly, but pleasantly, ready to receive her.

  ‘What can I do for you, young woman?’ She bent down and reached for a sheet of paper which she placed on the counter. Then she picked up a pen and dipped it in the inkwell, ready to write.

  Maude told her story.

  ‘The world is full of such men,’ the woman commented when she had finished. ‘You’m best off without such a blighter. You were a governess, you said?’

  ‘Well…a nanny…to a little boy.’

  She wrote down Former nanny. ‘And you have no money?’

  ‘Not a penny, ma’am,’ Maude replied. ‘I’ve had to walk from Brierley Hill with my daughter, and it’s pouring with rain. We’re soaked through and very tired.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said kindly. ‘We’ll soon have you and your little girl in something clean and dry. And you’ll be able to rest.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ A hank of hair had come adrift and Maude shoved it behind her ear. ‘I should tell you, ma’am, that I’m pregnant – about three months.’

  The woman smiled benignly as she wrote on her form. ‘Well, that doesn’t bar you from coming here,’ she said, meeting Maude’s eyes. ‘All the more reason to seek shelter here.’

  ‘But you hear such stories,’ Maude ventured.

  ‘You used to, but not about this place. And any road, times have changed.’

  Maude breathed a sigh of relief. This momentous day had freed her of her burden, and she began to weep again. Perhaps she would be cared for here after all, for she could not be in a more hopeless personal situation.

  ‘If you could find work for me…’ she suggested.

  ‘Oh, we’ll find you work all right. There’ a hundred jobs to be done in a place like this, by them fit enough to do it. The laundry, for instance.’

  ‘What about my daughter?’

  ‘She’s yours,’ the woman replied. ‘It would be up to you to look after her. So she would be with you most of the time.’

  Maude smiled through her tears. ‘So you wouldn’t take her away from me? I’ve heard that you separate mothers from their children.’

  ‘Maybe, when she’s old enough for schooling.’

  Maude’s weary eyes lit up. ‘If you have a school here, I could teach. I was trained as a teacher.’

  ‘Well, there you are, m’dear.’ The kindly woman wrote Trained teacher on the form. ‘The Master will be very interested to note that, I warrant. So will the Clerk.’

  * * *

  Because Benjamin Sampson knew where to look for Kate, he found her. He waited outside the theatre tucked away in a hansom cab, confident she would emerge sooner or later. When she appeared she would require a cab, at which point Benjamin would give the signal and his driver would press forward to pick her up. The driver had already agreed the plan with other available cab drivers, at additional expense, but at least it had a good chance of succeeding.

  At last he espied her, and called to the driver through the speaking tube of the hansom, ‘There she is!’ The driver pulled forward. Benjamin heard her give her required destination, and the driver opened the door for her to step up. He shut the door again and they were on the move before she realised that the unexpected figure sitting in the darkness of the far corner was Benjamin. He was smoking a cigarette, which was at first hidden from view. As he drew on it, the glow from its lighted end cast sufficient illumination on his face to make him recognisable.

  ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ she asked, astonished at his presence.

  ‘I came to see you,’ he answered simply. ‘I got your letter of resignation. You didn’t think asking me not to contact you would work, did you? I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why you won’t get divorced from that chump you’re married to.’

  She sighed with the forbearance of somebody trapped. ‘Where are you taking me, Ben?’

  ‘To my hotel.’

  She sighed again, and he was captivated by the way her eyes glistened momentarily as they reflected the gas street lamps shifting past the window. ‘I’ll go with you to your hotel,’ she agreed, for the only other option was to open the door and jump out – an exercise that distinctly lacked appeal. ‘I’ll have a drink with you, if you like, and then I’ll get a cab to take me home.’

  He smiled smugly to himself in the darkness.

  ‘So what’s it all about? You’re not pregnant are you, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Not to my certain knowledge,’ she replied, almost with contempt.

  He exhaled a veil of smoke that drifted between them. ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘It would have made solid grounds for divorce.’

  ‘If the child were yours,’ she said.

  ‘Who else’s might it have been?’

  ‘My husband’s. Whose d’you think?’

  He laughed, a hollow, scornful laugh. ‘But you said in your letter that something had cropped up, and that something has evidently spurred you on to end our affair.’

  ‘Yes, something has cropped up,’ she confirmed. ‘I wasn’t lying. But it’s not pregnancy.’

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what?’

  ‘It’s simple enough, Ben. My dear mother-in-law passed away last week after a sudden illness. Didn’t you read about it? It was in all the newspapers. “The dowager Lady Chesterton snuffs it!” or words to that effect. So now there’s nothing to stop me going back to live with Lionel and making Deerstall Hall my home, pampered by servants.’

  ‘So you’re going to stick with him?’

  ‘Course I am. I never said I would leave him.’

  ‘You said you might expect to be divorced someday.’

  ‘I still might. You never know. But that was never my intention.’

  ‘And you’re serious about this?’

  ‘I was never more serious,’ she protested.

  ‘Does that mean you’re giving up the stage?’

  ‘Ben, I’ve had a hell of a lot of fun being an actress in vaudeville. I’ve loved every minute. You’re not the only man I’ve slept with either, since I came to London – I admit it. I’ve been lucky not to have been found out, because then I should have ended up in a divorce court. But it’s time I grew up. I’ve finally realised I’ve got everything a woman could wish for. It’s time I made the best of it, time I settled down and became a proper wife to Lionel. He needs me in Norfolk. He’ll need me when he travels abroad. Especially now. It’ll be a different life for me, and I’m ready for it.’

  Benjamin sighed. ‘So I can’t get you to change your mind?’

  ‘I won’t change my mind,’ she affirmed. ‘Would you, in my position?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ he conceded disconsolately.

  The hansom drew to a stop. They were outside the Savoy.

  ‘Then will you do me the honour of coming to bed with me one last time? It’d be kind of you to say goodbye properly.’ He detected her smile in the semi-darkness.

  ‘You!’ she said, and tapped his arm. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  It was dark, and the night induced romance – and adventure. Kate found it difficult to resist either. Besides, Ben’s pitifulness actually touched her. The poor soul was utterly bewitched. The clown had pathetically arranged to kidnap her that night. Yet that in itself was romantic, and wholly unexpected. She felt the urge to go along with it. She was, after all, a woman, with a healthy appetite not only for sexual union, but for adventure too.

  ‘One last time, eh?’ he coaxed.

  She sighed melodramatically. ‘Only because you can do it so nicely…when you put your mind to it.’

  * * *

  Chapter 33

  As the train rattled back homewards, Benjamin, in the first-class compartment that he alone occup
ied, was wallowing in gloomy contemplation over Kate Stokes. It was woefully clear that he would miss her uncomplicated feminine abandon and recklessness. Yet that very recklessness, her easy infidelity, now induced him to ponder her suitability as a life companion. He’d already been married to one such female. Why was he drawn to another? Would he never learn? The very fact that a woman was beautiful meant she was a magnet for other men, susceptible to their flattery, to their promises, to their suggestions, and to temptation. Any woman who was beautiful knew she was beautiful, and quickly learned how to use that valued physical asset to best advantage. Maybe he had been foolish hankering for marriage to Kate and foolhardily preparing for it as if it were a foregone conclusion. That foolhardiness had cost him a fortune, but he wanted her, and was convinced he always would. Never would he be able to get her out of his head. After Kate, other women, however desirable, would pale into insignificance. After Kate, could he really make do with Maude?

  His thoughts ran in this vein for the entire journey, including on the local train that ran from Wolverhampton. At Round Oak Station he alighted forlornly with his overnight bag. Rather than go home to a house bereft of any human presence, save for the servant, he decided he would take the tramcar to his works. At least there, there would be people and things going on to take his mind off his troubles.

  As he climbed the stairs to his office, a stranger greeted him, a seedy little man, who seemed anxious to bar his way, until he enlightened the man that he was in fact Benjamin Sampson.

  ‘My name is Oakley,’ the man replied stiffly. ‘I am an insolvency practitioner.’

  At this revelation Benjamin began to feel exceedingly hot and uncomfortable.

  ‘I must inform you,’ he went on, ‘that two major creditors have petitioned the courts for compulsory liquidation of the Sampson Fender and Bedstead Works, due to non-payment of long outstanding debts. Therefore, a judge has subsequently ruled that the said Sampson Fender and Bedstead Works be liquidated. Have you not read the correspondence that has been sent advising you that this course of action is being taken, Mr Sampson?’