An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  Maggie hesitated and sighed.

  ‘I mean I do wish it, William, but I will not do it,’ she said at last. ‘You are married. You will not leave your wife. A lady’s virtue is her wedding gift. I cannot give it to you.’

  ‘But I need you, Maggie. My wife doesn’t care for me at all – she does not care one jot. It is you that I love now. I need you to love me in return.’

  Maggie looked at him again. With a sudden jolt she realised that he was looking rather – well, maybe just a very little bit - silly.

  ‘You are a most attractive gentleman,’ she said, regaining her shattered senses at last. ‘We both have needs that perhaps we thought – hoped, maybe – that the other one could fulfil. Perhaps we have flattered each other, I do not know. But we cannot take this any further. We must not translate our needs – our dreams, if you like – into reality. I am grateful for your love, William, and I have not meant to lead you on. But I have suddenly realised that it will not do. I cannot give myself to you. It is not right and I cannot do it and I know that, in your heart of hearts, you do not want it either. The consequences are just too awful for us both.’

  William took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, and then relaxed his grasp a little more. Despite the reluctance of her legs it was just sufficient for her to tear herself from him and force him aside and run through the door into the schoolroom across the hall. She locked the door and waited. She waited for several minutes. She refastened her nightgown. She listened to the gulls outside. She could hear the seconds ticking away in her brain. She felt totally exhausted and drained. She suddenly realised how traumatic this totally unasked-for encounter had been. But she was also very proud of herself. Very, very proud. Her conscience had triumphed in the end. She had taken the decision and implemented it. And she knew that, whatever happened as a consequence of it, the decision was entirely the right one to have taken.

  While she was in the schoolroom, and unknown to her, Mrs Wright stepped quietly up the staircase and loitered silently a few steps down from the top. She heard Maggie’s door open and strained to see who had emerged. She waited for a few moments more. Then she followed her husband directly to their chamber, a grimly satisfied look on her face, and made her way determinedly inside.

  Chapter 23

  ‘I have something of very serious import to say to you, my love,’ enunciated Mrs Wright, as she and her husband prepared themselves for bed later that same evening. ‘I have not wanted to say anything, as I had hoped that I might be mistaken. But now I find that I must say something, for things have gone from bad to worse and there is no saying exactly where they may end.’

  Mr Wright eyed his wife a little guiltily from behind the nightshirt that he was just that moment in the process of pulling over his head.

  ‘What is it you need to say to me, my love?’ he asked, more than a little nervously. ‘I hope I have done nothing to cause you any concern?’

  Mrs Wright tutted irritably.

  ‘Whether you have or not is entirely beside the point,’ she told him. William was more than a little relieved at the implication that whatever he did was of no consequence at all to his loving wife. ‘Though I regret that I shall need to put you to the trouble of finding me a new governess for the twins.’

  Mr Wright took a deep breath and told himself not to panic.

  ‘A new governess, my love? What has the governess to do with all of this? Are you not happy with the way in which Miss Owens is teaching the children? I cannot say that I have seen that aught is amiss, myself.’

  ‘Oh, I daresay she is as good as the next girl with the children,’ acknowledged his wife, a little tetchily. ‘Though she should be able to get them to behave a little better in company, I’d have thought. No, it is nothing to do with her teaching skills. It is her honesty that I am calling into question. I am not perfectly convinced that she is a totally honest young woman at all.’

  Though this appeared to be a slightly less dangerous topic than the one that he had most feared, Mr Wright secretly determined not to be lulled into a sense of absolute security just yet. After all, he knew his wife extremely well. She was more than capable of leading him to a place he would much rather avoid and then attacking him as soon as he was there.

  ‘Dishonest? I must say I have had no cause to think of her as dishonest. Whatever makes you think that the girl is not honest enough?’

  ‘It is what my Aunt Staveley keeps saying. You know how she mutters and talks to herself all the time. She has lost some old jewellery – a couple of worthless trinkets like as not – and she is convinced that someone has stolen it from her. I understand that Freddy searched her room with her the other day, to no avail, and I cannot think that she has taken the wretched things anywhere else since we came to this miserable little town. Well, it seems most likely to me that it is that worthless governess who has stolen them from her room. I remember asking her to get something from it for me one afternoon – my aunt was waiting with me down in the hallway - so I know for a fact that she has been in there on her own. Aunt Staveley is so rarely out of the house – and so rarely out of her own room when she is here – that it seems most unlikely that anyone else would have had the opportunity to take anything. And she certainly has some singularly expensive gowns for a governess. We certainly do not pay her anything like enough to keep her in clothing like that.’

  Her summary dismissal of his advances still acting to wound his pride, William was in no particular mood to protect Maggie from the accusations of his wife. Having said this, he was a fair man. He knew full well that it was most unlikely both that Maggie should have been tempted to steal Mrs Staveley’s old jewels in the first place, and that she should have given in to this temptation even if she had. Why, had he not just been given sufficient proof of her integrity for himself? Even had this not been the case he also knew that the fact that she had once been in Mrs Staveley’s chamber on her own was scarcely sufficient to condemn her as a thief.

  ‘Perhaps we should ask her about it, my love?’ he suggested, hesitantly. ‘I must say that I do not feel totally convinced that Miss Owens is to blame and we should certainly give her a chance to state her case.’

  Mrs Wright threw her husband a menacing glare.

  ‘Maybe we should, William,’ she agreed. ‘But not just yet. Perhaps we should give her some further opportunities to expose herself before we do so. Once a thief always a thief is what I say. Let us see whether Aunt Staveley – or anyone else in the household - misses anything further of value before we show our cards. I would really like to catch her red handed. That would certainly sort her out.’

  Chapter 24

  Oblivious to the conversation that was just then happening in the privacy of Mr and Mrs Wright’s bed chamber, Mr Staveley was just concluding a visit to his mama in the chamber directly above. Having discovered that she spent the vast majority of her time within it, he had quickly requisitioned and rearranged the furniture to provide a pleasant little sitting area, with two easy chairs and a small table, in the space provided by the bow window directly fronting the sea. Indeed, he had so soon determined on this being so pleasant a little sitting area that he himself had taken to sitting there in preference to sharing his evenings with his cousin and her husband in the grander rooms downstairs. The arrangement appeared to suit Mrs William just as much as it suited Mr Staveley, and as his own room, above Maggie’s, provided him with precious little comfort he generally vacated it as often as he could in order to visit his mother in the much better room next door.

  They were just concluding a game of dominos – Mrs Staveley’s favourite game, and one at which she still demonstrated some skill.

  ‘You have b...beaten me again, ma....mama,’ acknowledged Freddy, sacrificing his final blocks and getting up, stretching, from his chair. ‘You are far too good for me.’

  His little mother, neat as always in her black silk gown and cap, smiled placidly at him.

  ‘I shall miss you whilst you are gon
e, Frederick,’ she said. ‘I have quite got used to having you around.’

  ‘I know. I had m...much rather not go, m...myself, but a fellow must work, I suppose, and I shall be stiver cramped if I have to pay my cousin for very much longer. Captain Wright has b...been decent enough to suggest it so it would be churlish to refuse. And you never know – may...maybe I shall get some luck out of it. I should not be gone for long.’

  ‘Well I do hope so, Frederick. It still pains me to know that you have to go back to sea, when you should have had enough to live upon without it. I wish you did not have to go.’

  The absence in question concerned a proposal by Captain Wright that he and Freddy should make a trip up to Town to petition the Admiralty for some preferment now that both of them had been promoted. Though Freddy fully understood the desirability of doing this – passed-midshipmen being two-a-penny, and the opportunity of winning some prize money alluring – he was also feeling loath to absent himself from the rather different opportunity and allure that Miss Brewer still presented despite the capriciousness of her manner towards him, and, besides, he did not at all relish the thought of a four-and-twenty hour trip to Town in a crowded, stuffy coach, and the same dreadful journey to return. Nevertheless, go he felt he must, and as Captain Wright wanted to waste no further time in doing so they had agreed to set off for London within the space of the next two days.

  ‘I was wondering, m...mama, whether you would welc...welcome some further com...company whilst I am away? I know that M...Miss Owens would like to have a friend in the household. I wondered whether you might enjoy her co...company every now and then?’

  ‘Miss Owens? Who is...oh, is she the children’s governess, Frederick?’ Mrs Staveley’s eyes narrowed for a moment. This was an interesting development. ‘Well, I do not see why I should not. She seems to be an elegant, genteel enough young lady, quite thoughtful. I seem to think that she has helped me out a couple of times, though I cannot for the life of me think what it was that she did. Yes, I should be quite happy to have her company of an evening every now and then.’

  ‘Good. Then allow m...me to mention it to her b...before I go to Town. I shall feel a lot ha...happier about you knowing that you b...both have at least one friend you can rely on.’

  Chapter 25

  On the evening prior to his departure Mr Staveley had made a point of trying to reinforce his influence with Miss Brewer by inviting her to accompany him to the theatre. Miss Brewer, to be sure, had provided him with a somewhat lukewarm response but she had done so with so becoming a smile that he had taken her ‘maybe’ for a definite ‘yes’ and rushed out immediately to acquire two tickets for the final performance of the day.

  It was therefore in some state of disappointment that Maggie discovered him, note in hand, standing disconsolately in the hallway at about a quarter after six that evening. Indeed, he appeared to be so distressed that for a moment she wondered whether his mama had fallen ill.

  ‘Oh, my dear Mr Staveley, whatever is the matter?’ she asked quietly, placing her hand on his arm for a second. ‘I hope there is nothing wrong?’

  Mr Staveley wrenched himself from his inner thoughts and managed to flash her a somewhat wintry smile.

  ‘No – no, I thank you, Miss Owens. It is nothing serious, to b...be sure. It is just that I had invited M...Miss B...Brewer to the theatre this evening and had bought tickets on the imp...impression that she had agreed, and now I find this note from her saying that she will b...be una...unable to attend after all as she is feeling a little indisposed. I...I’m sorry. I do hope I didn’t alarm you?’

  Maggie felt that apologies on his side were quite unnecessary and that, rather, it was Miss Brewer who should be apologising to him instead. She looked at him sympathetically. He was such a sweet young gentleman – so innocent in many ways, so keen to please. The thought flashed through her mind that Miss Brewer was a very silly young lady not to appreciate him for what he was. It caught her quite by surprise.

  ‘Oh, what a shame. I’m sure you would have enjoyed the play. I always used to enjoy my evenings at the theatre before my father died. There is something quite – oh, I don’t know – quite companionable about everyone watching the same thing at the same time. The atmosphere is most appealing.’

  Mr Staveley was struck by a sudden thought.

  ‘Well – what say you to us going there together then, M...Miss Owens?’ he suggested, eagerly. ‘I have the tickets. It would be a p...pity to waste them. I should b...be quite delighted if you would agree to come along.’

  Maggie felt a sudden sense of – what was it? – disappointment, mortification? – that she should be invited only as an afterthought, a replacement for the young lady whom he would much have preferred to have had as his companion. She repressed it immediately. It was most kind of Mr Staveley to offer to take her with him. He did not have to do so, after all, and he had obviously done it more to please her than to please himself. So she swallowed her pride, gave him a smile, thanked him sincerely and asked him to name the time when they should go.

  Given Mr Staveley’s state of mind that evening – the disappointment over Miss Brewer compounding his lack of enthusiasm at the thought of the long trip to London – it was probably fortunate that the main play happened to be a comedy rather than the tragedy that Maggie had half expected it to be. Indeed, it was so rumbustious and ridiculous a comedy – Mr Sheridan’s ‘The Rivals’ – that he was shaken out of his moroseness and into great guffaws of tearful laughter even before the first act was over. Maggie, too, was in need of some light hearted amusement, for, having dressed most carefully in one of her very best outfits – a dark rose silk, teamed with a very pretty ruby brooch – the single remaining expensive item inherited from her mama – she had suffered the misfortune of coming across Mrs William as she had awaited Mr Staveley in the hall prior to their departure. Mrs William’s sour appraisal of her, and her muttered words of ‘acting well above herself’ as she passed her by, had served to rob Maggie of all her excitement and almost made her wish that she had said that she would not go. But no sooner had the play begun than she, too, found herself laughing uncontrollably – although this was quite as much at her companion, whose ebullient laughter was totally infectious, as at the antics on the stage. Despite the hardness and discomfort of the seating, and the heat engendered by several hundred bodies in an extremely constrained space, she found that she was thoroughly enjoying the evening – and it appeared that her companion was happily doing the same.

  ‘I do not know why I am laughing so m...much, M...Miss Owens,’ he confided during a slightly less riotous interlude. ‘After all, I have to have some sy...sympathy for that poor woman, M...Mrs M...Malaprop. We are both of us completely at the m...mercy of how we say our words.’

  In a break between the acts Mr Staveley – once again wiping his eyes with his handkerchief and still shaking with laughter – suggested that he should obtain an orange for each of them from a lady who was standing nearby. Maggie agreed that this was a fine idea and, after a short wait, he returned triumphant, oranges in hand. To the consternation of both of them it turned out that although the fruit was delicious it was also extremely juicy, and to eat it with any semblance of propriety was therefore totally impossible. Maggie caught his eye and pulled a face.

  ‘I hope you do not mind me getting sticky,’ she said. ‘I regret that I am getting as much of this orange on my hands as I am in my mouth.’

  ‘As am I,’ he confessed in return, fishing about in his pocket for a moment. ‘Here – p...please m...make use of my handkerchief, M...Miss Owens. You are looking m...most beco...becoming in that very pretty gown of yours. I should hate you to sp...spoil it. Per...perhaps I could place the handkerchief on your lap? Even so, it is a good job that you are not too nice about this sort of thing. I shall not ob....object should you determine on licking your fingers.’

  This was maybe a little too much in public but Maggie appreciated both the offer and the compliment, an
d surreptitiously wiped her fingers on the handkerchief instead.

  Despite the length of the play and the long journey ahead of him the next morning, Mr Staveley appeared to be singularly reluctant to return to Grosvenor Place at the end of the performance. And indeed, it was a lovely night – cool and starry, with a gentle breeze directing the waves to the shore.

  ‘Do....do you p...particularly want to retire just yet, M...Miss Owens? I thought we might enjoy a short stroll together along the Esp...Esplanade. It is such a lovely evening, after all.’

  Maggie, too, thought that a short walk together along the Esplanade would be preferable to an immediate return indoors so Mr Staveley offered her his arm and they wandered off slowly in the direction of Gloster Row. A silvery moon had risen, floating in the dark night sky. They could see it reflected, shimmering, in the lapping waters of the bay. The scent of seaweed filled the air, reaching them on a gentle south-easterly breeze.

  Mr Staveley was talking about the stars.

  ‘Can you see that one over there – the slightly b...brighter one, Miss Owens? That is known as the North Star. It remains in m...much the same p...position in relation to the north pole all the time so we can use it a good deal to navigate b...by. It is a little m...more difficult when we are south of the equator – we have to look for a particular constellation. And then we have to use our sextants in order to work out exactly where we are. It can b...be a little tricky, though one can get quite good at it after a while. Luckily it is the ship’s m...master who takes prime responsibility for navigation, though all the officers need to be able to navigate as well. It is the m...mathe...mathematics that I find difficult. And, of course, when it is overcast or rainy we cannot see the stars at all!’