Daisychain Summer

by Elizabeth Elgin

  ‘So there’s no one here?’ No one to hear what they would say. ‘So what do you think of it? I can’t make head or tail of it. And who is Beulah Townsend? I’ve never heard of the woman!’

  ‘Julia – calm down! You want me to read the letter – all right, let me read it? If you want to do something useful, put the kettle on. Seems you could do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘Laced with hemlock!’

  ‘The kettle!’ Alice hissed, frowning as she arranged the words and sentences into some awful kind of order. Then taking a deep, shuddering breath she said. ‘I don’t believe this. Just let me get it straight? This woman, Beulah Townsend is divorcing her husband for adultery and naming you?’

  ‘That’s it. Mark’s wife …’

  ‘But you said he was a widower.’

  ‘I thought he was. I mentioned it on the odd occasion, but he always clammed up. So I left it alone. I thought she’d died in the war and he didn’t want to talk about her.’

  ‘Look, Julia – I don’t want to ask this, but I’ve got to. I know you’ve been out with him quite a bit over the years, but have you ever – just once, even …?’

  ‘Committed adultery with him? The answer is no, no, no! Word of a Sutton. On Drew’s life, I swear it!’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know. So how has this Beulah woman got you involved? When might it have happened? And you know you’ve got to tell Nathan about this.’

  ‘I tried to. I rang him before I came here. But he’s got a funeral, somewhere. He’s got three parishes, now, don’t forget.’

  ‘Did you leave a message?’

  ‘Yes. Told his housekeeper that if I wasn’t at Rowangarth, I’d be here. Maybe he’ll come over.’

  ‘Of course he will, if you said it was urgent. Anyway, when might this adultery have happened?’

  ‘When mother went to Amelia’s, I think. We saw her off at Tilbury, remember? It was the night of the fog. I told you about it.’

  ‘The night you stayed at some hotel?’ Alice set cups on a tray, her mouth all at once dry.

  ‘The Flowers Hotel. All we wanted was somewhere to sleep. London was dead. There was no chance of getting back to Montpelier Mews.’

  ‘Someone must have been following you – had you considered that?’

  ‘It’s the only explanation I can think of. But how did his wife know we’d be at the theatre?’

  ‘You tell me, love. She must have been having him followed, but how she knew when you’d be in London and likely to go out with him, I don’t know. I’ve heard they have private detectives who do that. They follow people, then get witnesses to make statements in court about –’

  ‘Alice! Do you have to?’

  ‘Sorry. But a lot of divorces are put-up jobs like Mrs Simpson’s was. Collusion, I think they call it. And maybe it isn’t you in particular she’s got it in for. Perhaps she’s been having Mark Townsend followed for ages and you were the one that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘And do you think that’s any consolation to me? Do you? Can’t you see – the shame of it? I’m a Sutton, Alice, and Suttons don’t get mixed up in sleazy divorces – not even innocently. Just think how people went to town on the King and Mrs Simpson. A divorcee – a social leper, that made her. And now I’m going to be named co-respondent in a divorce case. God! It’ll kill mother when she finds out!’

  ‘Then you must defend yourself.’ Alice spooned sugar into Julia’s cup. ‘You can’t let that woman get away with it. And come to think of it – do you think Mark Townsend might have something to do with this? You said he admitted he was keen on you.’

  ‘I know. And I told him it wasn’t on – you know I did. But I didn’t know about Beulah, I honestly didn’t.’ Julia winced as the scalding liquid burned her tongue. ‘I’ll ring Mark. I should have phoned him right away, told him.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t! From now on, you don’t get in touch with him and don’t take any calls from him, either! Her solicitors will have been in touch with him, too. He’ll know what’s going on.’

  ‘Then why hasn’t he phoned me?’ Julia paced the floor again, incapable of sitting still.

  ‘Maybe he has and thank goodness you’re here. But I think you should get in touch with Carvers.’

  ‘How can I? Carver-the-old wouldn’t touch divorce with a very long stick and Middle Carver is more for money matters. That only leaves Carver-the-young, and I don’t think –’

  ‘All right! You don’t like him, I know that, but you’ve got to tell him.’ Young Mr Carver had been instrumental in getting them all back to Rowangarth. If Julia wasn’t in such a state, Alice would have reminded her of that. ‘At least ask him to recommend you to a good lawyer; one who specializes in – in –’

  ‘In nasty little cases like this one? Oh, you’re right!’ She held up her hand as Alice made to protest. ‘But how am I to get out of this mess? No one is going to believe me. Would you, I mean? Mark slept on the floor all night, but a chambermaid came in with morning tea, and saw us.’

  ‘And jumped to the wrong conclusions. Pity you ordered that tea.’

  ‘But we didn’t, Alice.’

  ‘Then that proves it. That chambermaid is going to be paid to swear in court that you and him were in that room together when she brought the tray in.’

  ‘Then what am I to do?’ Julia’s face drained of all colour. ‘And mother’ll be home in a week! What am I to tell her?’

  ‘Do? You drink up your tea, then we go over to Rowangarth and phone young Mr Carver. And when Lady Helen comes home, you tell her the truth. I believe you and she’ll believe you, too. So get that tea down you. We’ve been in worse corners than this, you and me. We’ll manage.’

  Carver-the-young agreed to see Julia at once. For one thing she had sounded so distraught and anyway, he had no appointments that morning. He smiled, offered coffee, then read the letter she laid on his desk.

  ‘There is no doubt about it, Mrs MacMalcolm.’ He cleared his throat noisily. ‘You are indeed being cited as co-respondent in a Mrs Townsend’s petition for divorce. On the grounds of adultery,’ he added, almost with satisfaction. ‘Now, that’s the worst of it, so let’s think of a way out. You deny the allegation, of course?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Julia whispered. ‘Word of a Sutton. What I do not deny is that Mark Townsend and I shared a room when we weren’t able to get home from the theatre – fog, it was.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Those London fogs. And you categorically deny that any intimacy took place?’

  ‘I’ve said so. I’ll see a doctor, if it would help.’

  ‘I very much doubt it. But we have agreed the most important thing – that you have been wrongly implicated – so we mustn’t make things easy for Mrs Townsend.’

  ‘Easy? She’s holding all the aces it seems to me, but what I want to know is why should Mark Townsend never have told me about her? I asked him and he gave me to understand there was no woman in his life.’

  ‘There wasn’t, Mrs MacMalcolm. When Townsend was serving at the Front, Beulah had an affair. He found out about it, though. Such things always surface, in the end. He and Beulah tried a reconciliation, but it didn’t work. They parted, in the end, and she’s been trying to get free of him ever since.’

  ‘So why didn’t he divorce her? And how come you know so much about it?’ Julia demanded, hot-cheeked.

  ‘He couldn’t divorce her for the wartime affair once they’d become reconciled and had – er – co-habited. The fact that they got together again wiped out – legally, anyway – her fall from grace, as it were.

  ‘Pity they ever tried again to make a go of it. It would’ve been all plain sailing for Townsend, otherwise. And I think that in the end he just held out stubbornly – trying to punish her. Then came the Flowers Hotel incident and she had what she wanted. You were obviously being watched. Devious, Beulah is – always was.’

  ‘You know her?’ Julia gasped.

  ‘I knew her – once,’ he said,
tight-lipped. ‘And half London society knew about the wartime affair. I suppose I was more privy to it than most. Townsend and I were at law school together, you see, and when war came, we joined the same regiment – I thought you knew.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ How could she have known? ‘But what are my chances of getting out of this without the world and his wife knowing about it?’ And especially without her mother knowing.

  ‘Now there we must proceed with caution. But I think there might be hope. All I need is a little time. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, maybe, or the next day, and meantime, don’t have any dealings with Townsend. If he phones, refuse the call.’ He rose to his feet, holding out a hand, his face slablike. ‘I’ll see you to the door. Try not to worry too much.’

  Not to worry! Julia fumed silently. Oh, but he was enjoying seeing her squirm. She had never liked Carver-the-young; she liked him still less, now! Head down against the driving rain, she hurried to the car park.

  ‘“Don’t worry,” he said – but what do you make of it?’ Julia demanded of Alice who had come at once to hear the outcome of the visit. ‘I could wring Mark Townsend’s neck. I should have realized he was smitten long before I did. He really must have thought he was sharing that bed with me! Talk about seizing the moment! But do you think there is any hope? Do you think I’ll be able to get out of it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Alice brooded. ‘But by all accounts that solicitor knows something he isn’t telling you.’

  ‘Then I wish he would – good or bad. God! What is Drew going to make of it all? And as for mother – well, you know what her generation think about divorce. She’d never get –’ She stopped, as Mary opened the door.

  ‘The Reverend is here, Miss Julia. I said you had someone with you so he said he’d wait in the library.’

  ‘Then do you think Cook could rustle up something to eat – sandwiches, perhaps, and a pot of tea? Are you staying, Alice?’

  ‘No. I’ll get back home.’ She waited until the parlourmaid had closed the door then said softly, ‘You know where I am if you need me. An’ it’s best you and Nathan have a talk about things. He’ll know what to do. Say hullo to him, from me,’ she smiled, kissing Julia’s cheek. ‘And tell him all about it? He’s not only your friend, he’s your parish priest, too. Nathan will help.’

  Nathan always had. He always would, Alice thought as she made her way back to Keeper’s Cottage. But what a mess it all was! And how Was Lady Helen to take it, when she got home?

  My, but this had been a nasty old year, she thought, pulling up her collar, sinking her hands into the pockets of her coat. She would be glad when it was over and done with.

  1936? A good riddance to it! And surely, she thought as she stepped thankfully into the warmth of her kitchen, things could only get better?

  Julia opened the library door with a flourish, then closed it with a bang, leaning against it dramatically, eyes screwed tightly against tears.

  ‘My dear!’ Nathan rose to his feet. ‘What is it? Urgent, you said on the phone and I’ve been trying to get you ever since.’

  ‘Nathan!’ She ran to him, arms outstretched, and he gathered her to him, hushing her gently, holding her close.

  ‘Tell me?’ He offered a handkerchief, guiding her to a chair. ‘Aunt Helen – is she all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ Julia choked. ‘Drew, too …’

  ‘Then what is it? This morning, it seemed important. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes – oh, no,’ she sniffed, dipping into her pocket, pulling out the envelope. ‘A fine mess I’ve got myself into. Go on – see what it says. It doesn’t make pretty reading.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Nathan said eventually, carefully folding the letter.

  ‘Then I’m glad, because it isn’t true. Oh, we spent the night together, but nothing happened. Circumstantial evidence, but who’s going to believe it? And what is mother going to say when she hears?’ Her voice trailed into a whisper as fresh tears rose in her throat and she covered her face with her hands, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Nathan – who will believe me?’

  ‘I do.’ He sat down on the arm of her chair, laying a protective arm across her shoulders. ‘But don’t you think you’d better start at the beginning? You’re being cited in a Mrs Townsend’s petition for divorce – and you are denying it?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  She drew in a long, deep breath, fighting to control the emotion that seethed inside her, gazing round the room that smelled of wood smoke in winter and gillyflowers in summer and of old, musty books; the room where once, in another life it seemed, Giles had worked at his books with Morgan sprawling on the hearthrug.

  She jumped to her feet, walked over to the window and dabbing her eyes dry she lifted her chin. Then, as Nathan had asked, she began at the beginning, leaving nothing out.

  ‘Young Carver says there’s hope, but I don’t think he’ll be able to do anything,’ she finished, eyes fixed on the bare branches of the linden trees. ‘It’s all too awful even to think about. Since that letter came, it’s suddenly hit me that Drew is growing up and soon he’ll fall in love, then who will I have?’

  ‘Me, Julia.’ Nathan said it softly, simply.

  ‘You, Nathan? But you’re always here. What I’m trying to say is how am I going to cope with the loneliness when Drew goes – because one day he will, you know.’

  ‘Drew won’t leave Rowangarth. He’ll never be far away. And I didn’t make myself clear. What I am trying to say is that I’ll always be here for you, with you. I’m asking you to marry me, Julia.’

  ‘Me? Marry you? Why?’ She sounded ungrateful and brusque but it was all she could think of to say.

  ‘Is it so very funny?’

  ‘Of course it is! You haven’t grasped one word of what I’ve been saying, have you? I’ve got myself tangled up in a divorce. Innocently, but no one is going to believe that. From now on, I won’t be nice to know. Me and Mrs Simpson, both – scarlet women!

  ‘And you, Nathan, are a man of the cloth, a priest, and priests don’t get involved with co-respondents in divorce cases – that’s what I meant. I didn’t mean you aren’t a nice person, because you are. What I am trying to say is that your goodness makes me want to weep, and –’

  ‘Julia, dearest girl, don’t start crying again? You never could weep prettily, even as a child. And as for not getting involved with you, I don’t think there was ever a time when I wasn’t – involved, I mean. Trouble was, I didn’t realize it until you told me you’d fallen in love with Andrew.’

  ‘And you still – care …?’ She stared at him blankly.

  ‘I still love you.’

  ‘But when Andrew and I were married, it was you who blessed us. Did you mean it?’

  ‘With all my heart. I loved you; I wanted you to be happy.’

  ‘But all these years, Nathan?’ She took a step away from him because all at once they were standing too close and it unnerved her. ‘All the years between – hasn’t there been anyone else for you?’

  ‘No. All those years I’ve been trying to fall out of love with you, and I can’t. So will you marry me, Julia MacMalcolm?’ His smile was gentle, his eyes tender, but for all that she cried,

  ‘No, Nathan! No, no! You don’t love me – not really. You’re doing this because I’m Julia, Giles’s sister. You’re trying to shield me, to defy convention to protect me from all the sneers and gossip, because sneers and gossip there’ll be before so very much longer.

  ‘Soon, they’ll all be talking about me, sniggering over their teacups. It’ll start in Holdenby and end up only God knows where, and at each telling it’ll be added to and titillated and people are going to say that’s how women like me get our cheap little thrills.

  ‘Widows, Nathan. Women alone. No one is going to believe that nothing happened between me and Mark Townsend so there’s no use rushing to my defence by announcing our engagement. It’s too late! I’m going to have to stand up in court and deny it, or plead g
uilty so I don’t have to appear.’

  ‘And who told you that?’

  ‘No one told me. I just know it. An undefended petition, I think they call it, and all because the so-called guilty parties are too ashamed to appear in public and swear on oath they are innocent.’

  She paused to draw breath, will herself to be calm.

  ‘Anyway, Nathan, your bishop wouldn’t stand for it for one thing, and for another, I – well, I don’t think I love you. Not the way you would want me to love you,’ she finished softly, sadly.

  ‘Then I’d wait until you did want me. God knows I’ve waited long enough already.’

  They spun round, startled, as the door opened and Mary came in. Julia had forgotten the sandwiches.

  ‘There you are, Reverend. Cook says she’s sorry it took so long. Cold beef – your favourite, she says.’

  ‘Thank you. Tell Cook she spoils me.’

  ‘I’ll pour, Mary.’ Julia lifted the teapot, forcing her lips into a smile. ‘D’you think she heard anything?’ she asked when they were alone again.

  ‘I don’t think so – but would it have mattered if she had?’ He accepted the plate Julia offered, then laid it aside. ‘I was saying I wouldn’t ask anything of you that you weren’t willing to give. I know how much you loved Andrew, but it was a long time ago, Julia. Why can’t you visit his grave, weep over it, say a decent goodbye as a lot of other women have done?’

  ‘Because I will not look at a slab of stone with Andrew’s name on it. Andrew was a living, breathing person and to me he still is. Can’t you see that, Nathan?’

  ‘I can only see that you are punishing yourself and punishing the whole world. Do you think Andrew would want you to be like this? He gave his own life but he didn’t expect you to give yours.’

  ‘He didn’t give his life. It was taken from him!’ Julia flung, right-lipped. ‘My husband was killed. Don’t be so mealy-mouthed, Nathan. It’s me, Julia, you are talking to! And for heaven’s sake eat your sandwiches!’

  ‘Sorry, but suddenly I’m not hungry. I’ve made a fool of myself – rushed in without thinking. But I wasn’t taking advantage of your situation, Julia; wasn’t asking you to marry me whilst you were down on your luck and in need of someone to cling to. I asked you because I love you and I always will. But like I said, forget it ever happened. I’ll call again later when we’ve both calmed down and talk about that letter. Do you think young Carver can handle it? Would it be better if you got a London solicitor?’