The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret)

by Catherine Cookson

  She felt embarrassed to have to answer this question in front of the maid, but in just as low a voice, she said, ‘Yes; yes, I love him.’

  ‘Then everything is all right. Now, it’s such a lovely day I’m going down into the drawing room later, when we will have another chat. Perhaps you will bring your embroidery…you do embroider?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes.’

  ‘Do you paint or draw?’

  ‘I like sketching, but mostly I like to embellish bookplates.’

  ‘Oh, that is interesting and unusual. You mean you do the titles and things?’

  ‘Well…well…yes, and enhance the flyleaves and the capitals.’

  ‘How interesting. Now that is a wonderful hobby. I am so glad you have things that will fill your time. Now you must take that walk which will make you ready for your meal later.’

  Dismissed, Belle went out and back to her room where she selected a plain straw hat and a dustcoat. She did not, however, use the main staircase but went down a side one. Marcel had shown her this one because it led out near the corner of the house and right next to the big conservatory.

  It was a lovely morning, and she walked through the gardens. She stopped and spoke to a man who was sweeping a grass path on which there were a few leaves: ‘It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?’ she said to him.

  ‘Oh…oh yes, madam, ’tis a lovely morning.’

  ‘Are you the head gardener?’

  ‘Oh no, madam!’ He gave a deprecating smile. ‘Me, I’m the runabout. Well, Mr Victor is the head one and Dan Watson comes next.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Do you like gardening?’

  ‘Yes, madam, I like it very much.’

  ‘I have never done any gardening. I must take it up sometime; I’m sure it’s very interesting.’

  The young man laughed now as if at a joke and she laughed with him as she said, ‘Oh, I mean that.’ And still laughing, he said, ‘Yes, madam, yes.’

  Belle knew as she walked away that the man was still laughing at her statement.

  She walked aimlessly for half an hour. She had seen another gardener in the distance but hadn’t gone out of her way to have a word with him. Her ambling had brought her to another drive. This wasn’t so well kept as the main drive and as she followed its winding way back she found a branching off which led to the stable yard, and from this a path that brought her out opposite the conservatory and the door from which she had emerged to start her walk and to which she now made her way with the intention of returning to her room.

  She had almost reached the door when she imagined she heard Marcel’s voice. She stopped and stepped back onto the path and looked into the conservatory. There was no-one there. But again she heard his voice, and so, excitedly, she entered the conservatory.

  The glass-domed L-shaped conservatory was heavy with the scent of plants of all varieties and part of it was almost obliterated with greenery. At the far end was, she knew, the door that led into the drawing room, and she realised it was from there that the voice was emanating now. Almost at a run she started to move towards the door, only to be halted by the words: ‘You should not have come back so early.’

  Her eyes widened even further at her husband’s reply, for it was undoubtedly Marcel’s voice that said, ‘I had to. What do you think I am? You don’t know how I feel.’ Then his grandmama’s voice answering, ‘Oh my darling, of course I know how you feel; and I feel for you. Haven’t I always? But this was unwise, you should have given yourself another week.’

  Then his voice again, ‘I’m all right…I’m perfectly all right. I know I am.’

  ‘How have you got back so soon?’

  ‘I spent the night in the city.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘No; Harry stayed with me.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, dear, you must be careful. And this business is bound to have disturbed you.’

  ‘Disturbed me! That’s putting it mildly. My God, when I think of the scandal!’

  ‘What had my dear brother to say?’

  ‘I didn’t bother calling on him because they would inform him soon enough. As for James, I’ll knock him flat one of these days.’

  ‘Now, now, you must bear with James.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Out in the garden. Be gentle with her, Marcel. She is very sweet but somewhat headstrong. But don’t try to cope with that all at once.’

  Belle now backed down the aisle between the greenery, and immediately she emerged from it she turned and ran towards the door, out of it, then into the other door and up the stairs to her room. It was evident that he had already been there for a small leather portmanteau was on the floor near the couch.

  Standing near the window, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, she asked herself if she had heard aright? But what had she heard? Could she make sense of it? The only thing that had come out of it was that for some reason he’d had to go away and it hadn’t been for business; and that his grandmama was surprised at his return and worried…as she herself was too. Even during those few days in London questions had arisen in her mind, but they had been swept away by his loving kindness, at least during the day, and the constant declaring of his love for her.

  She wished she could rush out at this moment, down to the river and take a boat across to home and Freddie, and Jinny, and Nancy, and everybody on that side of the water, because here she was in a foreign land in which the language made her fearful, so fearful that she dare not translate it in her mind.

  It was almost twenty minutes later when he came into the room and found her sitting at her dressing table. In a high voice he exclaimed, ‘There you are, my dear. Oh, my dearest dear.’ He came behind her and put his arms about her and tilted her head back and looked down into her face, asking softly, ‘Have you missed me?’

  To this she could answer truthfully, ‘Yes. Yes, Marcel, I have missed you.’ Then having already made up her mind that she had a part to play until she managed to get to the bottom of why her husband had to take these mysterious visits to Harrogate, she asked, ‘Why did you stay away so long? Was business so pressing?’

  He released his hold of her and, straightening up, said flatly, ‘Yes, very pressing, very boring. But I think I have settled the affairs now for some time.’

  She turned on the seat and looked at him fully, and she paused before she said, ‘You are pale. Have you been unwell?’

  ‘No, no.’ His voice was high again. ‘Unwell? No; but harassed; business can be very harassing…But all that is past.’ He flung his arms wide; then taking two steps towards her, he pulled her into his embrace and pressed her jerkingly to him, once, twice, three times, until she gasped and said, ‘Oh! Marcel, you…you are hurting me.’

  ‘Oh, come now, come; you’re not such a delicate little thing as to be hurt by a hug. What is it?’ He pressed her from him. ‘It is you who don’t look very well.’

  ‘Perhaps you are not aware that Aunt Maggie died and has been buried in your absence?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ His tone and manner altered now. ‘Since you bring it up, I am very well aware that your Aunt Maggie died and has been buried, and I should say it is fortunate for her she died as she did, because, being a confessed murderess, she would have died in any case.’

  ‘Oh no, she wouldn’t! She wasn’t a murderess.’ Here she was, going again. She must be careful for his expression was thunderous now and his voice matched it as he cried, ‘She killed my father, and all this business about one of the servants stealing those jewels is all poppycock. Your Freddie likely paid that woman to come up with that tale.’

  ‘Freddie would do no such thing. He would speak the truth, he always did.’

  For a moment she was fearful of what was going to happen next: she could see that he was making a great effort to control himself. He turned from her and walked to the far end of the room and stood facing the blank door of the wardrobe for a moment before once again turning around and, his voice now low and his tone appealing, he said, ‘Oh, Bel
le, please, please don’t let us quarrel! I’ve…I’ve been very upset about that report in the paper and all the fuss. And there’s still more to face, because, you know, people will not really believe that we are in no way related. But, oh my dear’—he approached her now, his hands extended—‘don’t…don’t let us quarrel. I have missed you so much and longed to be with you. Be…be gentle with me, I beg; I need you, your gentleness.’

  She was overcome. Here she was being presented with two different natures within a matter of minutes. So, so like his grandmother. Yet she couldn’t resist the appeal in his voice and his countenance, and so, her own voice soft, she said, ‘Marcel, my dear, I don’t want to quarrel, but I want to understand; everything is so strange. You go away and you don’t leave me a word. Why? Can’t you tell me why?’

  She watched him close his eyes and jerk his head backwards as he said, ‘I…I thought Grandmama explained everything to you, everything that you need to know. It’s…it’s my business, my dear, it’s business, all business, business.’ His voice was rising; then again swinging round from her, he said, but in a more subdued tone, ‘I just want to forget about it, Harrogate and all in it. Quite candidly’—he was once again facing her—‘I hate Harrogate and everything that drags me there. But look, my dear—’ He bounced towards her now in boyish fashion and, catching her hands, he said, ‘Today we are going out riding.’

  ‘But I can’t ride; I have never been on a horse, Marcel.’

  ‘Today you will be on a horse, my dear; you will have your first lesson. And from now on every day we shall ride, trot, gallop.’ His arms now were acting his words and when his legs, too, illustrated a gallop she forced herself to laugh, saying, ‘I’ll never get to that stage; I’ll be on the ground most of the time.’

  ‘Come on!’ He pulled her hand. ‘Get into your coat and bonnet and winter boots. We must get you a riding habit. Yes, yes, that’s what we must do. That’s the next thing, we’ll go into Newcastle and get you a riding habit. But not today. Today you will be just introduced to your horse, a gentle saunter. Oh, my love, my love!’ She was in his arms again. ‘You have no idea how I feel when I am with you, when I can hold you, when I know that you love me.’

  He was holding her chin tightly with one hand now, his fingers pressing into the side of one cheek, the thumb into the other pushing her mouth out of shape. And there was a plea, yet a demand, in his voice when he now said, ‘Tell me that you’ll always love me. Tell me. Say it.’

  Through her distorted lips she said, ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.’ He was stroking her cheeks now with both hands. ‘But tell me that you’ll always love me. Say it. I want to hear it.’

  As she looked into the face that had first fascinated her a few months previously and continued to do so as recently as a fortnight ago, she would have then been able to answer without hesitation, but now she dared to say, ‘Always is a long time. We have just begun our life together; it…it depends on how we react on each oth…’

  She was almost thrust on her back. She stumbled and was saved from falling only by the low back of the dressing-table stool. And he was yelling at her now, ‘I don’t want philosophy! I want love. Do you hear? I want love.’

  She watched him throw himself on the chaise longue, his body bent almost double, his face in his hands, and although she was experiencing fear of him she was, at the same time, filled with compassion; and this drove her to him and, bending above him and putting her arm around his shoulder, she brought his head to her waist, saying, ‘You have love, my dear, you have love. What is it? What is the matter?’

  He lay against her for some minutes, and when at last he looked up at her he asked softly, ‘Bear with me, will you? Please bear with me. I…I unfortunately have this quick turn of temper. I must try to control it. I will for your sake.’ And his voice still gentle, he said, ‘Come, let us get into the fresh air and ride. Yes, and ride, for you’ll find the wind rushing through you is the most exhilarating feeling in the world. It clears your mind. It makes you a new being. Although’—he smiled gently now—‘I don’t want you ever to be a new being. It is me who must mend my ways. Come, my dear. Get into your things and let us go.’

  She did as he bade her and accompanied him downstairs for her first riding lesson.

  Sixteen

  She did tolerably well with her first riding lesson. The following day she had another lesson, in which she did better. He also took her into Newcastle, and she was fitted for a riding habit. And then they called at his other house. It was only a small house, comprising eight rooms altogether and situated at the end of a very nice terrace on the outskirts of Jesmond. And there they found Marcel’s friend, Harry Benson. Apparently he was living there. As Marcel explained, he looked after the place and so it only needed one servant, and he a daily man.

  Marcel’s friend, Belle found, was what she termed a nice man, quiet, slightly aloof. He was a very big man, all of six foot two and broad with it, and that he was not only a friend but also a sort of superior servant she deduced from the fact that he asked Marcel if he would be needing him, did he think, within the next two days? And Marcel assured him that he wouldn’t. He seemed to emphasise this. Then as she happened to glance back as they were leaving, she saw Marcel place a small chamois leather coin bag on the corner of the sideboard.

  In the street a disturbing thought came into her mind, but she countered it by saying to herself, Well, there are some things that it’s best not to know, only to attack this immediately: She should know; he was her husband.

  The following morning she did not go down to breakfast, she felt very tired. Lovemaking, she was finding, was not only tiring, it was disturbing and distressing. She never expected it to be like this and therefore wasn’t complying to Marcel’s satisfaction. That he was annoyed with her was evident because he hadn’t come back to see her after breakfast. It was eleven o’clock when she rose from the bed. She wasn’t feeling at all well, and it didn’t help matters when Mary Chambers came to the room and said that the mistress would be pleased if she would call in and see her before she went for her morning walk.

  Was she expected to go for a morning walk? What she should be doing was going down to see the cook and arrange the meals. Part of her training at school had covered the running of a household and she had bought a book on it and so she knew the procedure. But she also knew she wasn’t mistress of this house.

  When she entered the old lady’s room it was to find her in bed but adorned with wig, and paint, and powder, and wearing a different coloured negligee. Her greeting was rather cool. ‘Good morning, my dear. I understand that you have not been down to breakfast?’

  ‘I did not feel hungry, madam, and I was feeling a little tired.’

  ‘Huh! Tired at your age, girl! You should never use that word. I myself have never used it.’

  Belle did not answer, but she thought, No, you’ve likely never done enough work in your life to feel tired. And for a moment she had a picture of Maggie’s daily routine. Oh, she longed for Maggie and Freddie. Oh, yes, Freddie.

  ‘You look surly. Why do you look surly?’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I looked surly. Perhaps slightly bored. I have nothing with which to occupy my time. You can’t embroider all day, madam, or take walks. I…I understood that I should be seeing to the household.’

  She thought for a moment that her words were going to cause the old lady to collapse but her voice gave no indication of this when she barked at her, ‘Young madam! let me make the situation quite clear. This is my establishment. I order it. I have always ordered it and I shall go on doing so. Do we understand each other?’

  ‘Yes, madam; I think we understand each other very well. But can you advise me what I am to do with my time?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I can advise you what to do with your time, and that is be a good wife to my grandson. Be his companion; and if you are a wise woman you would be entertai
ning during the daytime and—’ She brought herself up from her pillows, leant forward and said, ‘And at other times.’ And now her voice was a low hiss: ‘A wife’s duty is adaptation and sublimation of self. These are the qualities that a wise wife aims at in marriage, and they are necessary for a successful marriage. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly clear, madam, perfectly clear. And do I also make myself clear, madam, when I say I did not enter marriage to become an entertainer, nor a being who practises sublimation of self.’

  They were glaring at each other, Belle in pure anger, Mrs Birkstead in sheer amazement and indignation.

  ‘Get out! Leave me, girl! And don’t come near me again until I send for you. Do you hear?’

  She was halfway across the room when she turned and said, ‘I hear, madam, I hear.’

  As she pulled open the door Sarah Cummings nearly fell forward into the room, and the woman’s face was stretched, her eyes were wide, her mouth was open. But if Belle had had time to think and describe the expression she would have put the term ‘glee’ to it.

  On the landing she wavered whether to go back to her room or down to the kitchen and say to Mrs Welch, the cook, ‘What are we having for dinner today, Mrs Welch?’ Then follow it up with, ‘I don’t like that. Serve it to madam; but we will have so and so, and so and so.’

  But she went to her room, and there, going to the window, she beat her fists against the wooden stanchion. Adaptation and sublimation. She knew exactly the meaning of that old woman’s words. Well, she couldn’t adapt and she wasn’t going to submit, not to things that had happened last night. That wasn’t love, she was sure of it. She had known what to expect from marriage and had longed for it. Yes, yes, she had longed for it, but not for what was happening. Oh no, no. Oh, if she could only go across and talk to…Who could she talk to? She couldn’t talk to Freddie about this. No; but she could talk to Jinny. Oh yes, she could talk to Jinny; even more so than she could have talked to Maggie about this: Jinny had been married; Jinny had a large family; she was an understanding woman; she would tell her if she was right or wrong in her attitude towards her husband.