A Dream to Share

  ‘The shares in the business go to your brother’s son, Sebastian Bennett. It is clearly stated in a codicil attached to his will,’ said Mr Crane in a dry as dust voice.

  Martin’s face fell. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  Mr Crane stared at him over his half-moon spectacles. ‘As you did­n’t inherit shares in your brother’s other businesses you didn’t need to know, Mr Waters. He probably thought your involvement with the farm was enough to keep you fully occupied.’

  ‘What about this house?’ asked Martin, nursing the cut glass tumbler of whisky between his hands. ‘Can I move Mama out and sell it? At the moment I rent the farm and an opportunity has risen for me to buy.’

  The solicitor pursed his lips. ‘That would be difficult. Mrs Waters is very much alive, even though she is non compos mentis. Her will clear­ly states that the house and its possessions were to go to her grand­daughter. As she was in her care she and I shared power of attorney. Now Miss Waters is dead, I suggest that you talk to your mother’s doc­tor. It should be easy enough for the power she wielded to be made over to you if you wish. As for the inheritance that would have come to Miss Waters… when your mother dies then it will be divided between you and Mr Bennett, despite his illegitimacy.’

  ‘But that isn’t fair,’ burst out Martin. ‘I’m Mother’s legal son. Surely I should have first claim on her property?’

  Mr Crane said sternly, ‘Fair or not, Mr Waters, that is the law. Your brother clearly accepted Mr Bennett as his son. I suggest we drop this matter for now… and may I add that it would be sensible if the servants remained here to look after your mother until Mr and Mrs Bennett’s arrival from India. That is unless you want the responsibility of caring for her yourself?’

  Martin sighed. ‘My days are full enough with looking after the farm. I had thought of a good nursing home but, if I can’t sell the house, it’s out of the question. I’ll speak to Sebastian when he returns home.’ He drained his glass. ‘What about the motorcar? Can I have that? It would be useful.’

  ‘The motorcar belongs to the business so I’m sorry, Mr Waters, but again I must say no.’

  Martin looked aggrieved. ‘I’d best get back to the farm then. I pre­sume I can leave it to you to see that the servants’ wages are paid.’

  Mr Crane nodded and both men drifted out of the room.

  Emma was relieved to hear they were to stay on at the house until Seb and Alice returned. She opened the french windows to let in some fresh air and went and stood on the terrace for a few moments, won­dering when that might be. They surely knew by now that Mr Waters was dead. His daughter’s death was going to come as a terrible shock to them both. But once they had recovered and were ready to take stock of the change in their circumstances, what would they do? It could be that Emma might yet be out of a job before Mrs Black came home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  June, 1909

  Seb dropped the suitcases and turned to his wife. With an encouraging smile, he swept her up into his arms and, nudging the door further open with his knee, he carried her over the threshold. Both allowed their eyes to sweep around the familiar hall before looking into the other’s face. Alice nodded affirmation and he kissed her before setting her on her feet. Instantly she reached out a hand to him and he held it firmly. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ he assured her. ‘We can do this together.’

  She hoped so and thought back to earlier that morning when the ship had docked in Liverpool and they had been given the news that Victoria was dead and the request that Mr Bennett call on Mr Crane that afternoon at two thirty. They presumed he had been checking the shipping arrivals and departures in the Liverpool Echo. Naturally the news had come as a terrible shock but both had known that her heart condition would shorten her life. Their concern was that the loss of her father and the news that Seb was her half-brother might have been par­tially to blame for her death and both had expressed guilt at not being there when she needed them.

  ‘It’s going to be strange her not being here,’ said Alice, a tremor in her voice. ‘I’ll never forget how helpful she was to me when I was get­ting over that terrible time with Bert. I’ll miss her.’

  ‘Me too. I’d known her all my life and she was always there… boss­ing me around more often than not,’ he added with a grim smile. ‘Same with Ma.’

  Suddenly the green baize door opened and Emma appeared in the doorway. She started and then the three of them spoke at once before stopping abruptly. Both women looked at Seb and he said easily, ‘Sorry for startling you, Emma, but the door was on the latch so we came right in.’

  ‘Welcome home, sir,’ she said, smiling up into his suntanned face. ‘You look well… if you don’t mind my saying so.’

  ‘Of course not, Emma.’ He grinned. ‘It seems odd being called sir by you. I’ll just fetch the suitcases and if you could tell Alice which bedroom you’ve prepared for us.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She turned to Alice and experienced a twinge of envy. ‘You look lovely, Mrs Bennett… or should I call you Mrs Waters?’ Her brow puckered.

  ‘Thank you, Emma!’ Alice was gratified and her cheeks were rosy as she gazed down at the matching skirt and jacket in turquoise shot silk with a crêpe-de-chine lemon blouse. ‘You think I’ll pass muster with the others in the Crescent?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. They’re only middle class and not the blinkin’ aristocracy. I love your hat. Did you make it yourself?’

  ‘Yes!’ Alice removed the felt of palest green, trimmed with white tulle and imitation yellow roses, and shook out her auburn curls. ‘Obviously you know about Seb,’ she said, placing the hat on the hall table.

  Emma nodded. ‘Hannah mentioned it first and then…‘

  ‘So the pair of you did get to meet,’ interrupted Alice. ‘Have you been seeing much of her?’

  ‘Yes! And Joy and Kenny… but perhaps I should leave it to them to tell you what’s been going on.’ Emma hesitated. ‘Now, perhaps you’d like a nice cup of tea and a slice of Cook’s seedcake? I’ll bring it to the drawing room, shall I?’

  ‘It feels odd you asking me that and calling Seb sir… but I’d love a cup of tea and I’m sure he will, too. Although we’re both hungry and were hoping for some lunch.’

  ‘Oh, Cook’s prepared lunch for you. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready for it yet.’

  ‘A cup of tea first, skip the cake. We’ll get changed after lunch,’ mur­mured Alice, easing off yellow kid gloves. ‘You wouldn’t know, I sup­pose, how she compares with Seb’s mother?’

  ‘Miss Waters didn’t rate her as good but then it was her own fault for sacking Gabrielle. Right, I’ll go and tell Cook and bring some tea.’

  Emma made for the green baize door but paused with her hand on it when Alice called, ‘How’s Mrs Waters?’

  Emma turned and said in a droll voice, ‘Still a blinking nuisance! Although, I probably shouldn’t be saying that seeing as how she’s Seb’s granny. She won’t recognise either of you.’ Those last words were directed at Seb as he came through the door with the suitcases.

  He frowned. ‘Mr Crane hinted that she was past the post… although, those weren’t his exact words. I reckon it’s best for us that she’s the way she is. Mightn’t have wanted us in the house if she was in her right mind… she was a right stickler for people knowing their place.’

  ‘You mean she’d think me a jumped up nobody,’ said Alice in a rush. ‘She mightn’t have minded you so much because her blood runs in your veins.’

  Seb shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter now. She’s not going to be telling us never to darken her doors again.’

  Emma’s gaze went from one to another. ‘She’s not easy to look after. You should be thinking perhaps of hiring a nurse. I’ve given you Mr Waters’ old room, by the way. It’s a nice size, as you know, and looks over the river.’

  Seb thanked her and with a whisk of grey skirts Emma hurried through the baize door. He looked at Alice. ‘Shall we go up now?’

 
‘After tea. Emma’s serving it in the drawing room.’

  ‘OK! I’ll take the suitcases up and join you in a few minutes.’

  Alice nodded, thinking that perhaps he needed a little time alone in that bedroom, which would have memories of his father for him. She went into the drawing room, thinking now of the old woman, not only being Seb’s grandmother, but also the great-grandmother of the baby Alice was almost certain she was carrying. Seb was over the moon about the possibility of being a father but it was something she wasn’t look­ing forward to telling Hannah and Kenny. As far as she knew, Hannah hadn’t had any luck conceiving but at least they had Tilly to brighten their lives. Alice wanted her younger sister to live with her and Seb, but would it be fair to remove her from Kenny and Hannah’s care straight ­away? Perhaps she should discuss it with them first. After lunch she would go up and see Hannah. Seb had to call in at Mr Crane’s office, so they could walk that far together.

  She went over to the french windows and gazed out at the garden and noticed the roses were in bloom. Her husband joined her a few minutes later and immediately drew her into his arms and kissed her.

  She stroked his cheek and murmured, ‘Does it feel as strange to you as it does to me being here, waiting for Emma to bring us tea?’

  He lifted his head. ‘You don’t mind her being here, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. It’s just that I’m not sure how to behave towards her.’

  Seb’s dark eyes were thoughtful. ‘It could be awkward but she did call me sir and you Mrs Bennett… and I wouldn’t like sacking her.’

  ‘No!’ Alice sighed.

  Seb hugged her. ‘As long as you don’t treat her like the old woman treated you. After all, you and Emma are sisters in the Cause.’

  Alice pursed her lips. ‘You know, I’ve hardly thought of women’s rights while we’ve been away. I never was as keen as Miss Victoria about it… and when we arrived back in England and I read in the newspaper that the suffragettes had marched on Parliament and smashed windows, and Mrs Pankhurst had struck a policeman in order to get arrested, I didn’t want to be part of them. I hate violence.’

  ‘Naturally you do. But what about the suffragists, who believe in peaceful protests?’

  She nodded. ‘I do believe spinsters and widows need to be treated equally with men when it comes to earning a decent wage but I was never sure just how useful having the vote would be for working class women.’

  ‘So you won’t be taking over where Victoria left off?’

  Alice shifted restlessly in his arms. ‘I don’t think I could do what she did. Besides I have the baby to think about. I wonder if Hanny’s been to any meetings. Emma said she’s been seeing her. That’ll be to do with Bert. I wonder if he’s still sending her letters? Emma said a lot’s been happening.’

  ‘Perhaps the swine’s met his comeuppance at last,’ said Seb, releas­ing her and gazing out over the garden.

  ‘I think Emma would have told me,’ murmured Alice, going over to the chaise longue. ‘Have you noticed this has been re-upholstered. Nice material,’ she added, stroking the red and cream damask fabric.

  ‘Perhaps Victoria felt like a change,’ he said, coming over to her.

  Alice did not answer. In her mind’s eye she could see Victoria lying on the chaise longue. They had spent such a lot of time in here togeth­er, writing letters in support of those who were suffering for the Cause. Her former employer’s voice echoed in her head, dictating exactly what she wanted to say to those who needed her support. She had been so determined to change women’s lives for the better and had so much wanted to achieve votes for women before she died. A deep sadness swept over Alice and, despite it being summer, she felt cold.

  There was a knock on the door and Seb crossed the room and opened the door. Taking the tray from Emma, he said, ‘Come and have a cup of tea with us. We need some answers.’

  She hesitated and glanced in Alice’s direction. ‘I’m not sure if…’

  ‘Sit down, Emma,’ said Alice, feeling her colour rising. ‘We might as well be comfortable. I don’t want to get a crick in my neck staring up at you.’

  Emma thanked her and followed Seb across the room. He placed the tray on a low table in front of the sofa and indicated that Emma sit down.

  ‘Will I pour?’ she asked.

  He glanced at Alice, who nodded and said in a low voice. ‘I suppose there’s been no more macaroons in this house since Gabrielle left?’

  Emma glanced at Seb. ‘Nobody knows where she is. Miss Waters was furious with her, especially as your father left her a thousand pounds.’

  ‘Payment for services rendered,’ Seb said grimly.

  ‘She could buy her own house for that,’ said Alice.

  ‘I bet she has but she’d have to spend money furnishing it and save some to live on,’ said Seb in a dispassionate voice.

  ‘She could take in lodgers,’ said Emma. ‘It’s the kind of thing wid­ows and spinsters with a bit of money do… that or open a little shop.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Alice smiled. ‘And the work wouldn’t be different from what she did here if she cooked for them, as well.’

  ‘Will you try and find her?’ asked Emma, pouring tea and passing a cup to Alice.

  She glanced at her husband, knowing he was still hurt by his moth ­er’s deception. ‘I wouldn’t know where to look,’ he said, and changed the subject, asking Emma how she came to work for Victoria.

  Emma decided to say as little as possible about that. ‘Mrs Black went on an extended holiday and Miss Waters gave me a job. Your mother had gone by then.’

  ‘How did Miss Victoria die? Where was she when it happened?’ asked Alice, looking expectantly at Emma.

  She hesitated but knew they had to know the truth. ‘In this room… on the chaise longue… and she was as good as murdered.’

  Alice started and spilled tea into her saucer. Seb placed an arm about her shoulders. ‘Murdered? Mr Crane didn’t mention murder. So why the melodrama? You’re not working for Mrs Black now, you know,’ he said tersely.

  Emma’s eyes flashed. ‘Can I sit down, sir?’

  ‘I told you to before.’

  She fetched the straight-backed chair Victoria had used for sitting at the writing bureau and placed it the opposite side of the small table that held the tray. She gulped a mouthful of tea and then, nursing the cup between her hands, said, ‘Bert found his way here.’

  Alice gasped and Seb’s arm tightened about her. ‘Go on,’ he ordered.

  ‘He gave a false name and tried to butter up Miss Waters, sending her flowers and taking tea with her. I never saw him but Kenny did a drawing of him and Joy brought it here for me. I was out at the time but Mary recognised him and showed the picture to Miss Waters. Instead of sending for the police straightaway she gave Joy his address to give to Kenny.’

  ‘Joy! Joy’s involved in this as well?’ blurted out Alice.

  Emma nodded, feeling her heart thumping, just remembering that day.

  ‘Don’t stop now!’ Seb’s eyes bored into hers.

  She sipped more of her tea and then told them everything that had happened. ‘It’s terrible,’ said Alice. ‘If only I’d known earlier that Mr Temple and Bert were one and the same. She gave me an address so I could send him copies of Votes for Women.’

  ‘How bad is Kenny’s ankle?’ asked Seb.

  ‘He’s in constant pain. They say he’ll be left with a permanent limp.’

  ‘And Bert?’ Alice’s voice was raw.

  ‘He got away. David Davies, my young man… you’ve met him, Mrs Bennett… reckons he broke his nose and spoilt his handsome face but where he is we’ve no idea.’

  Silence. Seb stood up. ‘Is there any brandy or whisky in the drinks cupboard?’

  Emma nodded. ‘We bought some in for the funeral and the old lady still enjoys a glass of sherry every evening.’

  He went over to the sideboard and took out a bottle of whisky that was almost half full, and op
ening the glass door of another cupboard he removed three glasses. He poured out decent measures for them all and handed a glass to Alice and Emma and remained standing. ‘Forgive me, Emma, for accusing you of being melodramatic.’ He tossed off the whisky, poured himself another and rested an elbow on the mantelshelf.

  ‘It can’t have been easy for you, Emma,’ said Alice in a subdued voice. ‘Who’s been in charge here since Miss Victoria’s death?’

  ‘We’ve just muddled through between us. Mr Crane brings our wages and the housekeeping money.’ Emma took a cautious sip of the whisky.

  ‘What about Victoria’s uncle, has he visited at all?’ asked Seb.

  ‘Barring the funeral, no,’ said Emma, ‘but there was a fire at Delemere a couple of weeks ago and acres of trees and land were destroyed. It was in the Chronicle. I don’t know if he was affected by it but that could be why he hasn’t been.’

  ‘He hardly ever visited his mother,’ said Seb, frowning. ‘I’ll speak to Mr Crane and see what he’s got to say.’

  There was another silence. Emma considered telling them that Martin Waters wanted to put the old woman in a nursing home and sell the house, but she decided to leave it to Mr Crane to give Seb that news. She took a larger sip of the whisky, could feel it warming her. ‘Is there anything else you want to know? Or for me to do for that matter?’

  ‘The bed’s made up I presume?’ said Alice.

  Emma nodded.

  Alice thanked her. ‘We’ll probably need to decorate the bedroom,’ she murmured.

  ‘Presuming we’ll be living here,’ said Seb. ‘It’s not guaranteed. But we should know where we stand by the end of the day.’

  Two hours later Alice parted from Seb in Northgate Street. She stood a moment, watching him walk away with that loose-limbed stride of his until he disappeared amongst the crowds thronging the pavement. Only then did she turn and go inside the cathedral, feeling in need of religious comfort. She sat in a pew, watching sightseers wander through the cathe­dral’s interior. The last time she had been in here was after she had bro­ken her engagement to Bert and was recovering from the beating he had given her. She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands, and wished the bobbies had caught him.