‘No, not really. That is done at the office in Newcastle. I merely keep a finger on it here, and—’ She pulled a small face now, saying, ‘I don’t always work in here, I must confess, because I find it so relaxing. I often sit there’—she pointed to a big leather armchair—‘and read. Oh’—she again pulled a face—‘and fall asleep and waken up to Jessie’s saying, “Now come on out of that and to your bed, miss.”’
He hadn’t laughed as she mimicked Jessie’s voice, but, his face straight and in a quiet tone, he commented, ‘You are so fortunate, aren’t you? What troubles you have in life you have picked them up, sort of gathered them to yourself, such as Victoria, and Joe, and Lily and her child. Yet, you needn’t have done any of these things, you could have stayed happily in this haven and led the life it suggests, peace and tranquillity, entertaining friends, and using your money to spread largesse, sometimes even in a way that wouldn’t touch your emotions.’
‘You are actually saying, Douglas, that I go out and seek trouble and bring it on myself?’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m saying, more or less; and at the same time you are so lucky to have this house, this atmosphere. Yes, that’s what I mean, atmosphere, in which to hide and heal your sores.’
‘You are not being very kind, Douglas.’
‘Oh, my dear Bridget, I am not meaning to be unkind; I’m just trying to tell you that this is a beautiful home. And now I’ll add to that by asking why on earth you had to take Milton Place. It was a fine house, oh yes, but so like many others one visits.’
‘I didn’t take Milton Place, Father did, for reasons I think I’ve told you before. But I also have a sneaking feeling he thought we girls, as he called us, would have more opportunity of meeting eligible young men in that part of the county, and especially, I think he was more concerned to get Victoria married off than me. He looked upon me as a companion, but I really believe if I had met anyone at that time, and there had been a mutual attraction, he would have made it difficult for me to leave him. He was a lonely man; he had depended on my mother, and then when she died I took her place; then of course’—she paused—‘when he died I was adrift. Yet’—she laughed now—‘I needn’t have been, you know, because during that first year I had a number of suitors, mostly gentlemen well set in years who seemed willing to overlook this young, nondescript individual who dressed outrageously when on a horse, and had no sense of fashion when off one; but for each of them I had something that would compensate for all my drawbacks, my coffers were pretty full. Such was my reception of these gentlemen, however, that they thought the game wasn’t worth…the candle, as they say. After all, they wanted to end their lives in peace.’
He actually put out his hand and pushed her as he laughed and said, ‘You are the most ridiculous person, Bridget…I mean your ideas of yourself. But at this moment I’m not going to contradict a word you’ve said, because you’d only pooh-pooh anything that dared suggest a compliment.’
As he stood looking at her he wondered yet again how it was that she had come to love that man Joe. Had it been through pity? Or was it something in the boy that first touched her girlish heart, the boy who’d had to earn his living by scampering round that blacking factory at the beck and call of whoever wanted him? Or was it admiration for how he had worked himself up to the position of second foreman, but not to manager? No; he felt sure it was her love for him that had lifted the man this final step.
If he were to say to her now, ‘I love you, Bridget. I’m not going to ask you to marry me because I’ve got nothing to offer you, but I want you to know I love you,’ what would she say? Would she have pity on him? Oh no; he wouldn’t want that. No; there was nothing in him that desired the love bred out of pity. He looked at her hair. He imagined it flowing over her shoulders; it was so abundant it must reach her waist. He could see himself putting his hands into it and bringing it to his face.
‘What is it? Something on my hair?’
‘Oh, no, no. I…I was just thinking you…you have beautiful hair.’
‘Yes. Yes, I know I have, Douglas, and it’s about all I do have. And I also know you are the kindest person one could meet in a long day’s walk. Father used to use that expression: He’s the most honest man you could meet in a long day’s walk, he would say. And I repeat, you are the kindest person that one could hope to meet in that long day’s walk. And now’—her voice suddenly changed—‘having said that, I’m going to conduct you, Mr Filmore, to see something that I know you admire very much: stone.’ She bent slightly towards him before turning and walking out of the room and into the corridor again where she pointed first to one door, saying, ‘That room was Victoria’s sewing room. She was very good, you know, at making some parts of her attire. And that one’—she now indicated the door opposite—‘is what we used to call the games room. Father and his friends used to play cards there one particular night in the week; on others, he played with Victoria and me. I’ll show you round upstairs when we come back because the light will soon be going. Let me put a coat on because it’s chilly.’ Then turning to him, she remarked, ‘You didn’t have an overcoat on?’
‘No. I rarely feel the cold.’ He didn’t know why he should lie about this.
‘Well, all I can say is you’re lucky; I’m a shivery person.’
She went to the side of the staircase now and opened what appeared to be the door of a cupboard and from which she took out a coat with a hood attached; and as he helped her into it she said, ‘We’ll go through the kitchen way.’
Peggie the cook was standing at the table pounding a large lump of dough and she greeted him with, ‘Good afternoon, sir. An’ I would wrap up well, miss. Keep that hood tight; the wind’ll go through you.’
He stopped at the table and looked down at the dough, saying, ‘I love the smell of yeasty bread. How many loaves will you get out of that?’
Peggie Nixon had stopped her kneading and her face was bright as she answered, ‘Four big ’uns, sir, two small and ten buns.’
‘All that?’
‘Well, sir, when it’s risen like it’ll be twice its size.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, when it rises. Yes, of course.’ He looked about him: ‘You’ve got a splendid kitchen.’
Peggie had glanced at Bridget and her smile was broad as she said, ‘Aye, sir. An’ I’ve been in it forty-two years come next Saturday. I started when I was eight.’
‘Is that a fact?’ He looked at Bridget enquiringly now, and she said, ‘Yes. Peggie came when mother was a very young woman, before she married. And’—she laughed now—‘when I was born, she was so excited that she almost sent me straight away into another world. She had brought up a large can of hot water for the nurse and apparently had one eye on me and she tripped, and away she went! And the water and the can just missed me.’
Peggie’s whole body was shaking with laughter and it seemed she now thumped the dough as she said, ‘The doctor swore at me. And Jessie, who was chambermaid at the time, took me by the scruff of the neck and almost threw me downstairs, an’ me twice as big as her, an’ older.’
Bridget quite naturally put her hand on Peggie’s shoulder as she passed her, and Douglas smiled widely as he said, ‘Goodbye, Peggie.’
‘Goodbye, sir. Goodbye. ’Tis good to have laugh, isn’t it?’
He paused and looked back at her and agreed: ‘Yes, indeed, Peggie, it is good to have a laugh.’
Outside in the courtyard he pointed across to the building, saying, ‘That’s good stone there, too. You have three horse boxes?’
‘Yes, but only two horses. We don’t often use the coach. So, there’s one for the trap and the other is my Hamlet.’
They walked on down the yard, past a row of outhouses to where a gateway in a stone wall led into a long vegetable garden. After skirting this and passing through a small copse, there before them lay a large field in which the two horses were grazing and at the far side was what looked like a jumble of old buildings. As they crossed the field
she remarked, ‘Most of this land is only fit for grazing, there’s so much stone just under the surface.’ She turned her head towards him, saying, ‘You would have a field day here digging it all up.’
‘Well, it would depend on what kind of stone it is,’ he said. But then, as they neared the buildings, he exclaimed, ‘If it was anything like that, oh yes.’ And standing in front of what had been a large barn he exclaimed, ‘Oh, yes, it’s beautiful stone. I wonder where this came from. Which is the nearest quarry?’
She made a deprecating sound in her throat as she said, ‘Don’t ask me, because I have no idea. Stone hasn’t been one of my interests. But come inside and see what the men have done.’
Inside the barn she pointed upwards, saying, ‘They’ve re-roofed it in the original style. I got them to do the roofs first to keep the wet out and to get rid of the rotten timbers.’
‘Wonderful,’ he said. ‘And look at the size of it. And this wall’—he now stretched his hands out—‘it’s over three feet thick. And the pointing is still good. They certainly knew how to build walls. Do you know the age of this place, then?’
‘Yes, I do. Mother’s people purchased it after the farmer left during one of the depressions and his name was Mr Price. And, poor man, he was paid a hundred and twenty pounds for his house, this amazing barn and the stables and outhouses attached. This was in eighteen twenty-three. The farm had been built eight years earlier, so the deeds tell us.’
‘And what are you going to do with it when it’s all renovated?’
‘Well, as I told you, I’m hoping to put Lily and her boy into the house. It has only five rooms. It looks much larger than it really is.’
‘You didn’t tell me why she changed her mind and decided to accept your kind protection.’
‘Oh, her father and the priest helped me there. Her father came and upbraided her, saying to the effect, what else could she expect by marrying a Protestant? And he brought the priest who told her that she must return to her religious duties or else she would be damned, or again words to that effect. And the child must be christened in the church; that it had already been christened didn’t seem to matter. Nor was her marriage valid, for it had been officiated in a Registry Office, which the Catholic Church didn’t recognise. So, in the eyes of the priest she had not only an illegitimate child but she had been living with a man in sin. She was very distressed. She wrote me a note and asked me to go and see her. So there and then I bundled her and the child back here…What did you say?’
‘I said, God help the boy.’
‘Well’—her voice was stiff—‘He will help him, I hope, through me.’
‘I don’t mean that, Bridget. I mean, in years to come when he learns who sired him and what kind of a man he is.’
‘I don’t look that far ahead, Douglas. I can only see him having a happy childhood, as far as that is possible, and beyond that, then benefiting from a good education.’
‘Well, all I can say to that, my dear Bridget, is, I hope he grows to revere the person who has made all that possible.’
‘Oh, come on if you want to see the rest of the place, because the light will soon be gone.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and I’ll have to be gone soon, too. I’ve got to get back to the station.’
‘If you will deign to ride in the trap, Danny will take you to the station.’
‘Much obliged, ma’am. Much obliged.’ He raised his hat slightly at her. And for answer she said, ‘Well I’m glad you appreciate the kindness, sir.’
They were in the farmhouse now. What had once been the living room was flagstoned; and, too, there was an open hearth with a rusty spit leaning now drunkenly against one side of the chimney wall, and an equally rusty chain was dangling from somewhere up above.
Bridget pointed to an open door leading into another room, saying, ‘That’s the sitting room, but as they say, it’s not big enough to swing a cat in. They must have lived close together to keep warm in those days, I think. That’s a similar room,’ she pointed to another door, ‘and two rooms up above. But I shouldn’t risk the stairs; one of the workmen has already been through the top stair. But again look at the inner walls, they’re the same as the outside ones. If they hadn’t made them so thick there would have been much more room to move.’
‘Yet it could be quite cosy, I should think.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She nodded now as she looked around the small room and commented, ‘That’s if you hadn’t many knick-knacks or falderals that you wanted to spread about. Anyway, I imagine Lily will be quite happy to live here. In her spare time she’ll be away from everyone, and at the moment, I feel that’s what she wants, to be on her own; and it’s understandable.’
They were going out into the open now as he said, ‘But for how long? She’s a very, very pretty woman. What if she decided to marry?’
‘Oh, I’ve thought of that; but it won’t be for some time, I should imagine. But if she wanted to and the man was capable of bringing up the boy then I’d be pleased for her; I’d have no objections, not really.’
‘Well’—he paused as he smiled at her—‘I can’t see, Bridget, that you can have objections in any case, because you have really no claim on the boy, or her, except of gratitude on her part.’
She stopped dead in the middle of the field and, peering at him through the dim light, she said, ‘Douglas Filmore, you are the most irritating person: one minute you’re flinging compliments about right, left and centre, the next you are knocking one flat with your logic. Well, let me tell you, I like neither of your ways. As for the latter flattening piece of information, I’ve already gone into that in my own mind.’
Douglas did not come back as one would have hoped, saying, ‘I’m terribly sorry, Bridget,’ instead, he said, ‘You’re down to earth, Miss Bridget, aren’t you? You’re the matter of fact Miss Mordaunt, you’re the speak-your-mind Miss Mordaunt, you are the boss of the factory: “Now you listen to me, sir. I will have it done this way, not that, this way!” That is you, Bridget, isn’t it? You are an individualist. But when you meet up with someone who is of like mind, you can’t stand it. I thought we were friends and as a friend I was pointing out to you a fact that I imagined you had overlooked. But not you, oh no, not Miss Mordaunt. And let me tell you something more when I’m on. In taking that mother and child, especially the child, under your wing, there may come a time when you wish to God you hadn’t. I’m not a fortune teller or a seer, I’m just looking into the future and seeing the progress of my nephew, as you have pointed him out to be; he is Lionel Filmore’s illegitimate son, but his mother is a maid, a working woman, and she will rear him, but you propose to educate him, and to what purpose? To inherit Grove House, if there’s no other issue? It’s happened before that illegitimates have taken their procreators to court to try and claim their rights. What if Victoria turns out to be a breeder and supplies a number of males and females all half-brothers and sisters of your protégé? Is he going to remain ignorant all his life of who he is? Not on your life, Bridget. And you think of that.’
Bridget stood amazed as she watched the slight boyish figure that hid a strong man march across the field away from her. There was sweeping through her a flood of emotion, indignation and fear, because she knew what he had said to be true, but also surprise that he had voiced it so vehemently; moreover, that he was always surprising her.
She had the very strange and urgent desire to pick up her skirts and run after him and say, ‘You’re right, Douglas, you’re right. But please, don’t be annoyed with me, because you are the only real friend I have. Remember what you said in the drawing room a little earlier about being lonely. And I am so lonely, so much so that only yesterday I wished I had Victoria back with me. But that was only a momentary wish. Nevertheless, I wished it. But let me face the fact that I don’t want Victoria, I don’t want the company of women, I want a man’s company. Yes, yes, I do.’
Her head dropped onto her chest. But not any man’s company; it wou
ld have to be someone like Douglas. Yes, someone like Douglas Filmore.
What had she said to herself last night in bed? That she knew she could have company and in plenty if she took to dressing differently; in fact, that if she followed Victoria’s pattern and had her hair dressed and her face creamed and powdered, then she could look presentable, very presentable.
But what had been the outcome of that inner probing? Just that she wouldn’t be herself, she would be playing a part, and the men she would attract she would likely despise, and so nothing would come of it. Why then bother to change?
She brought her head up with a jerk and emitted aloud, ‘Oh, you!’ the words being directed across the field to where Douglas was just disappearing into the copse. And slowly now she, too, made her way across the field.
When she reached the courtyard and saw Jimmy Tierney leading Hamlet into his box she said to him, ‘Have you seen Mr Filmore?’
‘Aye, miss; he went past a minute ago. He seemed in a hurry. He’ll be at the bottom of the drive now, I should imagine. Would you like me to run after…?’
‘No. No. It’s perfectly all right. He’s got a train to catch.’
‘I could have taken him in, miss.’
‘Yes. Yes, you could, Jimmy, but he likes walking.’
He grinned at her, saying, ‘He’s a fast walker, miss; he was almost at the point of a run.’
As she walked away Jimmy stood holding on to the horse a moment longer as he watched his mistress crossing the yard and going round to the front of the house; and he raised his eyebrows; then turning, he spoke to the horse, saying, ‘Well, well, Hamlet. Well, well. A body never knows where a blister might light.’
Four
Douglas was very weary. The last part of his journey, after leaving the train, together with his intense thinking on the journey, had tired him.
The Black Candle Page 20