The blue eyes were staring straight into Belle’s again, waiting for an answer, and Belle, her lips trembling slightly, said, ‘Yes; yes of course I promise, because, I…I love him very much.’
‘Oh, my dear, my dear, that is so good to hear. And he loves you. He adores you and he will never leave you, I can assure you of that, except when he may have to go to Harrogate on business. We have business interests there. Well, you know, our ancestral home, Wellindean Hall, is near there. Oh yes’—she nodded at the expression on Belle’s face—‘the estate is now in my elder brother’s hands. The old part of the house was two hundred years old when I was born there; it has been added to since; and our land covers quite an area.’ She now lay back on her satin pillow and, releasing Belle’s hand, she went on, ‘I often, oh yes, so very often think of the old days, so wonderful yet so sad. My husband died in the hunting field, such a wasted life. I had no-one else but my daughter. As you know’—she slanted her eyes towards Belle now—‘families don’t always agree, and when my dear child married Gallagher I was devastated, and more so by her death; but then God has a way of recompensing the ills of life: Marcel came into my charge and I seemed to be born again to a new form of happiness.’ Then the old lady made a movement that startled Belle: she gripped her hand again, and tightly, and as she leaned towards her, her whole expression was changed. It was no longer that of the wax doll nor yet of the kindly old woman that had been talking for the past few minutes, it was a face suffused with dark anger and hate, and the next words conveyed this: ‘You know something, child, I hate the very name of that man, Gallagher. When I think of what he has done to my…Oh dear God in heaven!’ She now fell back on her pillow, her hand to her throat.
The action brought Belle to her feet, apprehensively crying, ‘Oh! Madam, are you ill? Shall I call…?’
‘No, no child; I’m all right. Forget this. I’m all right. I’m all right. Ah, here comes Marcel.’ The door was opening now, and as if the sun had suddenly come out and shone on her face her expression was now as it had been when Belle first saw her.
‘Ah!’ she was saying; ‘And how did you find Prince?’
‘Not very good, I’m afraid, Grandmama; the leg is still swollen, the sinews strained. I think I’ll get the horse doctor to him later, although I doubt he’ll be able to do much more than Yarrow, as we’ve found in the past. Well, have you had your little chat, both of you?’
‘Chat? Why should we chat? We have talked; only useless feather-brain women chat.’
‘As you say, Grandmama, as you say.’ He was smiling now at Belle, and she at him; she was feeling quite at ease. There were one or two things she might have questioned but they were of no importance. She knew that eventually she would come and live in this house and that she would have a champion, if she ever needed one, in this wonderful old lady who had so many sides to her, almost like a play-actress, one who, she imagined, must have been very beautiful.
‘Now I’m going to show Belle round the domain. Where do you suggest we start, Grandmama?’
‘In the servants’ quarters. This will give the lie to the popular belief that the gentry house their servants in less comfortable abodes than they do their cattle.’
‘Oh, Grandmama.’
‘Well, that is what the common people think; and they’re right, perfectly right, for their kind are housed in hovels. My father was the first to point this out to me. And by the way, introduce her to the staff because she’ll be ruling them…er—one day.’ She was nodding at Belle now; then as Belle was moving away with Marcel, the old lady said, ‘Strange, you don’t blush.’
‘Excuse me, madam?’ Belle had turned and inclined her head forwards.
‘I said, you don’t blush. You’ve just got to mention the word marriage to some young girls and they blush and go all fey. Sickens me. I’m glad you don’t blush.’
In the hall they both stopped for a moment and Marcel said, ‘She’s a character, isn’t she?’
‘She is indeed.’
‘She’s taken to you. I knew she would; but she has, and in a big way.’ He caught at her arm and pressed it to his side as they walked across the hall, and he said softly, ‘I’m so happy, Belle, so very, very happy,’ which made her want to turn and fling her arms around his neck and say, ‘It’s impossible for you to be as happy as I am at this moment.’
They had reached a swing door, and as he went to push it open he said, ‘We haven’t a large staff, thirteen all told, but they have been with us for years; in fact, Benedict the butler started in our family service when he was six; he is now in his sixties. And Grant, Alan Grant, who is my man, is Benedict’s nephew. He is comparatively new: he joined the service at the same time as I went to stay with Grandmama, that’s over twenty-one years ago. He was footman then; later he took me on.’ He smiled now. ‘Then there’s Grandmama’s maid, Sarah Cummings. You saw her in the hall. Oh, you’ll see a lot of Sarah.’ He now pushed open the door and they entered a small hall from which a number of doors went off. Outside one, he said, ‘Now here we are,’ and opened it and she entered the kitchen, and a small round little woman was dipping her knee to her as Marcel said, ‘This is Mrs Welch, our cook.’
Ada Welch said, ‘Ma’am.’
‘And this is Anderson.’ He pointed towards a woman well into her thirties. ‘Anderson is the kitchen maid. And there’s Summers. She has something to do with the scullery.’ He laughed then looked about him before asking, ‘Where are Chambers and Everton, Cook?’
‘Mary, sir, will be upstairs, and Linda, sir, in the dining room.’
‘Oh, yes, yes.’ Then turning to Belle, he said, ‘Now, as Grandmama dictated, I shall show you their quarters.’
Belle hesitated just a second. He had not asked if it was convenient he should go into their quarters, but was walking away now towards the far door, and so, before following him, she turned and smiled at the cook and the kitchen maid saying, ‘Thank you,’ then added, ‘It’s a lovely kitchen you have, and so beautifully clean.’
The little woman’s knee went deeper now, and she said, ‘Thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much.’
And Rosy Anderson smiled broadly at her and dipped her knee almost to the ground and gave her a nod.
The servants’ quarters were indeed different from those she had glimpsed in the school where two maids had slept in one bed, and that had taken up most of the room. There had been no wardrobe or dressing table, only hooks on the back of the door. She had told Maggie about the conditions, and Maggie had said, ‘Oh, child, that’s the usual attitude: What are servants anyway? They’re not human beings.’
When she now remarked to Marcel, ‘You don’t address them by their Christian names?’ he turned sharply to her, saying, ‘Use the servants’ Christian names? No! No! Except Sarah, and that’s because Grandmama calls her by her Christian name. But for the others, no, no; that would be too familiar.’
‘Oh, Marcel.’ Her laugh was a little derisory and, realising that he was displeased, she quickly endeavoured to alleviate his displeasure by saying, ‘But you see, of course, how would I know anything about it; we’ve only had Jinny to see to the house.’
‘Yes, that is right: how would you know anything about it?’ He was walking ahead of her. ‘This leads to the dining room,’ he said.
After the dining room he showed her the morning room, the library, the study, and the conservatory before mounting the stairs to a small gallery, where he said, ‘I think this is the part of the house Grandmama left untouched when she made the alterations, the stairs and this.’
From the gallery two corridors led to seven bedrooms, all beautifully furnished, and three of them very large. His grandmama’s room, Belle saw, was like some pictures she had seen of grand boudoirs, silk lace and French furniture abounding.
They were now standing in another large room, at the end of one corridor and with windows on two sides looking into the garden. He turned to her and, pulling her into his arms, he held her almost fiercely while
saying, ‘This will be our room. This will be our abode for the rest of our lives. Do you know that?’
‘It’s a lovely room.’
‘And you are lovely, and you will adorn it and I shall adore you.’
She mightn’t have blushed, but a heat had come over her body and it wasn’t all pleasurable because a little pocket of her mind was saying, It’s strange, the way he talks, Freddie would never say things like this; while at the same time she wanted to return the fierceness of his hold and the hard pressure of his lips as they traced every feature of her face. But when his hands began to move beneath her shoulder blades, she drew in a long breath and, putting her hands on his chest, she pressed him from her, endeavouring to make the action gentle even though she was having to use quite a lot of strength in order to disengage herself.
He was standing straight-faced now looking at her.
‘You don’t love me.’
‘Oh. Oh, Marcel, how can you say…?’
‘You don’t love me in the same way as I love you. It would be impossible. Perhaps it’s just as well: we would burn up.’ He now drew her hands in between his own and gently placed them on his chest and, softly, he said: ‘We must be married soon, Belle, for so many reasons. As you see, my grandmama is an old lady and, as you know, your…Aunt Maggie…is an ill woman. What would happen if either of them should die? Decorum would demand that we put off the wedding, for how long? Oh, it would be torture. I’m going to come across and talk with Miss Maggie.’
Tentatively she said, ‘You…you must speak to Freddie too.’
‘Freddie! Why Freddie? Always Freddie. I don’t see why, darling.’
‘Oh…well, you know the whole story: I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Freddie.’
‘You might have been, and my father too, if it hadn’t been for Freddie.’
She stepped back from him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, as I see it, if he hadn’t run off with you my father wouldn’t have chased you and somebody wouldn’t have caught him and done him to death. If he had left you where you were things would have worked out.’
‘In that!’ She now pointed upwards; then put her hand to her head, saying, ‘I’d…I’d forgotten about that room. Is it still there?’
‘No,’ his voice was harsh, ‘it isn’t still there. It was stripped and blocked up.’
‘Marcel! Marcel!’—she put her hand out towards him—‘Don’t be angry. Please don’t be angry. But you know I wouldn’t have survived in there, or out of it. He…he must have been so vicious against my mother for what she did that he would have taken his revenge on me, as Freddie said.’
‘All right. All right, my dear, let us forget about it…about Freddie—yes, about Freddie—and everything. Come on, and I’ll show you the rest of the place, and outside. But you must wrap up because the wind is cutting.’
He had reached the bedroom door when he stopped and turned her towards him once again, saying, ‘I suppose you’ve realised by now that I’m a very jealous individual. I can’t bear the thought of any man, father, brother, guardian or whatever capacity having anything to do with you. In the olden days I would have taken a sword and run them all through one after the other.’ He was smiling widely now, and she smiled, too, tolerantly as she said, ‘Oh, Marcel, you must have a very poor opinion of yourself if you think that I could even look at anyone else or think of anyone else when you are in my life.’
Gently he brought her hand and cupped it against his cheek. It was such a gentle gesture that it warmed her heart and definitely decided her that when she returned home she would have a firm talk with Freddie and Maggie and tell them that she, too, wished to be married soon.
Twelve
On the Wednesday following Easter Sunday they were married in South Shields by special licence in a church of no consequence except that it practised Christianity. The same kind of ceremony could have been performed in North Shields or, as Maggie wanted, at any of the fine churches in Newcastle. But no, it had to be in this little church because it should happen that Mrs Birkstead was acquainted with the parson who happened to be the grandson of a friend of hers. At least, that is why she and, apparently, Marcel Birkstead had insisted that the ceremony should take place there.
It was raining heavily and blowing a gale. The weather had reverted to that experienced in the early part of the year; the church felt cold and smelt damp.
After the opening words of the ceremony: ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here…’ Freddie asked himself once again how all this had come about. And why the rush? But more so, how could he bear to see her go to this fellow of all people…But to this there were really two answers…
‘Therefore if any man can show any just cause…’
Well, he knew of a just cause. This man was Gallagher’s son: that was just cause enough surely. No; that alone couldn’t stop the wedding. But the other impediment…How could he name it? Only that he knew there was something wrong somewhere, and it was with this man, as charming as he was. And oh aye, he could be charming; it ran off him like hot butter at times. But there were other times when, taken off his guard, ‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder…’
It was done. It was done. And he didn’t know how he would be able to bear it. He had kissed her pale cheek and her beautiful eyes had beseeched him, Be happy for me, Freddie, please. But he knew he would never be happy in his life again, nor know peace, because he had lost her and he was soon to lose Maggie. And God, that would be another kind of agony altogether. How many agonies could the mind tolerate?
Mrs Birkstead had declared herself too frail to come to the church, but it was arranged that they all return to The Towers and join her for a wedding breakfast, after which the happy couple, and it was evident to all eyes that they were happy in each other, would take the train to London where they were to spend their honeymoon.
Why weren’t they going abroad to France or Italy? That seemed to be the pattern of young wealthy married couples these days, and Belle had even put this to Marcel. But no; he had pointed out that his grandmama was very frail and he didn’t want to be too far away from her. And of course she understood.
But now, standing outside the church, Maggie said quietly to Belle, ‘My dear, I won’t be able to attend the wedding breakfast. I feel I must ask Freddie to take me home.’
‘Oh, Aunt Maggie! Oh, do try!’
‘My dear’—Maggie forced a smile to her pain-filled face—‘you wouldn’t want me to cause an upheaval at your breakfast, now would you? I’m all right…really, but I feel I must get home and rest. I’ll be anxious though to hear from you. Send me a letter. You will, won’t you?’
‘Oh, Aunt Maggie! Aunt Maggie.’ Belle was holding her tightly. ‘I hate to leave you like this. I feel…’ She didn’t go on to say that she felt she shouldn’t go away, that she was sorry it had all happened so quickly.
‘Oh, Aunt Maggie, this is unfortunate.’ Marcel’s voice was full of solicitude, especially when he added, ‘I tell you what we’ll do, we’ll come across and have a bite with you. My grandmother will understand.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. Now get yourselves away, and be sure to give our apologies to Mrs Birkstead. Goodbye, my dear.’ She turned again to Belle who now hastily put in, ‘We’ll only stay a week.’
‘Don’t be silly. Go on with you, girl! Freddie’—Maggie turned to him—‘let us away.’
On this, he led her to the hired cab that had brought them to the church, and he helped her in, and was about to follow her but turned and looked to where Belle was looking at him, and she would have certainly made towards him but her husband was now firmly holding her arm.
After taking his seat beside Maggie he put his arm about her and pressed her gently to his side, but neither of them spoke; nor did they when they left the cab and took the ferry across the river. But once on the quay there, he said to her, ‘Would you like to go to the office and rest before you take the road up the hill
?’ And she replied quietly, ‘No; I can manage.’
When at last they entered the house Jinny greeted them with, ‘Well, it’s over then. It didn’t take all that long.’
Freddie made no reply, but Maggie said, ‘No; it didn’t take all that long, Jinny; but how long it’ll last, God only knows.’ And she added to herself, And I won’t be here to see it.
In the sitting room, she said to Freddie, ‘Get me a glass of whisky, lad, a tall one.’
‘You sure? Don’t you think you’d better take your pills?’
She looked up at him and said quietly, ‘A glass of whisky, Freddie.’
A moment later he returned to the room carrying two glasses, and as he handed one to her he said, ‘Take it slowly.’
She took two or three sips from the glass before heaving a long sigh; then she lay back in the chair. ‘Why is it I’m worried sick, Freddie?’ she said. ‘She’s in love with him and he seems to dote on her. Oh yes, I’m sure he dotes on her; but in spite of that I’ve got this awful feeling on me.’
‘You’re not the only one.’
‘Oh, I know that.’ She nodded at him now. ‘I know what you’ve been going through these past weeks. But it wasn’t to be, and I told you that from the first. She didn’t see you in that way.’
‘She was never given the chance; at least, I didn’t give her the chance, and I should have. I thought, being ten years older…but then he’s nearly as old.’
‘It’s done now, lad, and you’ve got other things to think about, and deeply I should say since this latest news from Nancy. My God! Who would be on to this? We know for a fact it isn’t Freeman, and we know for a fact too it isn’t Connie Wheatley, and, as you say, she’s scared the hell out of her father; and if you ask me, I think there’s good reason there because we’ve always reckoned they feathered their nest before that old dame turfed them out. Not that I blame them. Odd, isn’t it, how we’ve both managed to avoid meeting her? Yet I have a vivid picture in my mind of what she’s like. An old autocrat by all accounts; yet Belle says she’s got another side to her altogether and they seem to get on like a house on fire. Well, she’ll likely need support…Now why should I say that?’
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 27
