The Lorimer Legacy

by Anne Melville

  The answer came quickly, because all Lord Glanville had said was true. On one side of the balance was Robert’s pleasure in country life. Everything else weighed down the other side. Margaret was well aware that the work she was doing, although useful enough, did not occupy her full energies. She had compensated for the fact that the practice brought in little income by developing country skills, but she had to recognize, if she were honest, that an ability to cure hams or make wines was not the most worthwhile use of a medical qualification. In London she could not only exercise her own abilities, but help other women to develop theirs. The combined task would provide great satisfaction.

  There was another consideration as well. She had stayed on in Elm Lodge after Charles’s death three years earlier because at first she was too upset to make plans and later too reluctant to add yet another move to the insecurities of Alexa’s childhood. Later still, there had never been a point at which she asked herself if this was how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Lord Glanville had set the question before her, and suggested an answer: it was an opportunity not likely to recur. Her fortieth birthday was approaching. If she stayed on at Elm Lodge now, nothing would happen except that she and Robert would grow older and older until Robert left home and she herself died there. It could hardly be called an exciting prospect.

  Whereas, if she went to London . . . Was this, she wondered, how her father had felt when the chance of running some new business came his way; or how her remote ancestor Brinsley Lorimer reacted to the prospect of a new voyage? She could feel her eyes sparkling with excitement, although there was no one to see her; the blood tingling in her veins seemed to be racing faster than ever before. In much the same way, no doubt, Alexa was even at this moment sustained by the challenge of a new fight. It was the nature of the Lorimers to explore, to accept a challenge. Margaret was not so bound by her family tradition that she put this to herself in so many words. All she knew was that she could not turn her back on an exciting offer. She did not write to Lord Glanville, because to do so would be to deprive herself of the other visit he had promised. But her decision was taken that night.

  6

  Although an ordinary disappointment can best be borne if no one knows about it, one that goes deeper is only endurable when the secret can be shared. Margaret had been living in London for more than a year when Lord Glanville called on her one Sunday afternoon. He was a frequent visitor during the part of the year when Parliament was sitting, but he had left London two months earlier, as soon as the session ended, in order to travel abroad. Because she now often attended the meetings of the London Women’s Suffrage Society which were held in his house, Margaret was familiar with his businesslike working manner as well as with the more relaxed mood which he displayed in her drawing room, but she had never before seen him agitated, as he was on this occasion. He tried to conceal the agitation under a description of his journey, but Margaret found no difficulty in recognizing the cause of disquiet when he reached it.

  ‘While I was on the way to Rome, I decided to call on Alexa,’ he said. His voice was casual, but Margaret’s knowledge of geography was sufficient to tell her that Verona, where Alexa was spending a second summer, had hardly been on his direct route to the Italian capital.

  ‘I wish you had warned me that you planned such a visit,’ she said. ‘Now that Alexa has passed her twenty-first birthday, there is a piece of property which should be in her possession – too valuable to be entrusted to any commercial mail or courier.’

  ‘I’m sorry. When I left England I didn’t know that I should see her, or naturally I would have mentioned it.’

  ‘I hope you found her well.’

  ‘I found her –’ He paused, as though he could not bring himself to put his impressions into words. ‘I arrived in Verona late in the day, and discovered that Alexa was due to perform in the Arena the same evening, singing the part of the Princess Amneris in Aida. There was not time to call on her first, so instead I attended the performance. I cannot tell you – she is so beautiful! Both her face and her voice, and yet there is more even than that. Towards the end, as she listened to her lover being condemned to death, she seemed to control the whole Arena by the stillness of her body – thousands of people, a huge auditorium, the stars above making it seem as though she were singing to a universe rather than an earthly audience – everything was in her power. I knew already that her voice was strong and lovely. I hadn’t realized until then the strength of personality which she can project. I wept for Amneris, and I was not the only one. The whole audience was moved. She stole the opera from Aida.’

  ‘That may not have been quite what Verdi intended,’ laughed Margaret, thinking that the discovery of Alexa’s dramatic talents was what had unsettled her visitor. ‘I can tell you that she had the same power when she was only nine years old. I was present once when she reduced a rowdy music hall audience almost to tears. You were able to see her later, I hope.’

  ‘I waited after the performance,’ said Lord Glanville. ‘But of course she was not expecting me. She already had a companion for the rest of the evening.’

  Margaret looked at him sharply, not needing to put the question into words.

  ‘Ought I to tell you?’ Lord Glanville asked himself. ‘The news will disturb you, and yet you have the right to know.’

  ‘Go on, if you please,’ Margaret said quietly.

  ‘I recognized the carriage which awaited her. Indeed, I recognized its owner. He is the son of an old friend of mine, now unfortunately deceased, the Duke of Caversham.’

  The name was unfamiliar to Margaret and she was uncertain how to react. Alexa was bound to attract admirers. Margaret herself was not a snob, but she saw nothing wrong in the possibility of her ward becoming a duchess. Lord Glanville must have read her thoughts, for he lost no time in making his views clear.

  ‘Once before I had to rescue Alexa from this same young man, while he was still a student,’ he said. ‘Now, his studies over, he is making the Grand Tour, and appears to find Alexa as great an attraction as the architectural sights of northern Italy. I can promise you that he will not marry her. It may take him a few years to run through that part of his inheritance which is not entailed, and no doubt during those years he will be generous to his companions. But before he is thirty he will have set his mother to scour America for an heiress with a fancy to be a duchess. He cannot afford to marry a girl without a fortune and he knows it as well as I do. The thought will never even have entered his head.’ Lord Glanville stood up and walked across to the window, staring out of it with his back to Margaret. ‘I’m sorry. I ought not to have told you. There is nothing you can do except worry, and it is too late for either prayers or actions to be of any use, I fear.’

  ‘You spoke to her yourself?’

  ‘I called on her the next morning. She expressed pleasure in seeing me, and I think it was genuine enough. But – well, I must try to see it through her eyes. She received me in a room full of the flowers and presents which her performances have attracted. In Italy, it seems, an opera singer is like a local queen. She had had a triumph, and she knew it. Doing what she always wanted to do, and doing it well, she was radiantly happy. It was to be expected, I suppose. She is twenty-one years old, and has a city at her feet and a duke to shower her with diamonds. What had I, or England, to offer her?’

  Margaret did not move as he came back to the chair which he had left a moment earlier, sighing in un-happiness.

  ‘I ought not to have pretended to you that I had no plans to visit Alexa when I left England,’ he said. ‘You are right that I should have warned you of my journey. If I did not, it was because I hoped to surprise you. It is eighteen months now since Fanny – since Alexa embarked on her own career. I had thought that I might find her lonely, perhaps disillusioned, ready to return to the love and security which you could offer her in London. And after a little while –’ He looked directly into Margaret’s eyes. ‘I had hoped that she might marry me. I can sa
y that to you now, because I realize that it will never happen.’

  A moment before, Margaret had felt as unhappy as he, on account of the news which he had brought. Now, suddenly, she was additionally numbed by a blow which hit straight at her own heart. But she was used to concealing her feelings, and forced herself to show only sympathy.

  ‘I think you would have had a great deal to offer her, Lord Glanville,’ she said quietly. ‘But did Alexa ever know –?’

  He shook his head, impatient with himself. ‘The last time I saw her was a week after my wife’s funeral. What, with propriety, could I have said then? I recognized how excited she was at the opportunity before her. If I had forbidden her to attempt it, would she have loved me for that? I suppose I must have hoped in my heart that she would fail. My disappointment is well deserved. She tells me that she thinks of herself now as an Italian and expects to pursue her career in Italy. She sent you her love, as always, but said that she is unlikely to return to England until she is invited to do so by the Royal Opera House.’

  It was clear that he had already said more than he intended, and Margaret saw that too great a show of sympathy would only increase his distress. She contented herself with returning the strong grip of his hands as he held both hers in farewell.

  ‘I have done you no service in speaking my mind like this,’ he admitted. ‘You would have been happier to know less. But there is no one else in the world to whom I could express my feelings honestly. I know that I can trust you to respect my confidence.’

  ‘Of course.’ Margaret looked up at him and tried to smile. In a gesture which his great height made as awkward as it was unexpected, he stooped to kiss her on the forehead. Then, hastily, he took his leave.

  After he had gone, Margaret stood for a long time without moving. If Lord Glanville had kissed her like that a year earlier – even so chastely, with such absence of passion – the gesture might have raised hopes which already were unwarrantably high. She looked back on her feelings then, remembering how she had dared to wonder whether his proposal to bring her to London meant that he hoped for an increase in the warmth of feeling between them until it grew into something more than friendship. All all the time he had been in love with Alexa. How clear his intentions seemed to her now! He had needed to establish Margaret in London so that Alexa could be enticed back to live with her guardian once her bid for fame had failed.

  No criticism could possibly be made of Lord Glanville’s behaviour. He had acted throughout with the strictest honour and generosity, giving everything he had promised. Without immodesty Margaret could recognize that he respected her and had during the past two years developed a warm affection for her, as she had for him. But that was all, and nothing he had said or done had suggested anything more. He had even dropped hints which Margaret should have been able to interpret. His longing for an heir, a son of his own, had been made obvious enough: she should have been able to deduce that when the time came he would look for a wife who was young. Any false expectations which she might have entertained were entirely of her own making.

  Twenty years earlier, Margaret might have wept for her disappointment. Now she was strong enough to deny to herself that any disappointment existed, and to make herself believe it. She had come to a mistaken conclusion a year ago, but it was of no importance. What mattered was that she had had other valid reasons then for leaving the country and coming to London, and they were still valid now. Instead of crying, Margaret held her head high and laughed. It was just as well, she teased herself, that she was happy in her work.

  Later, unable to prevent herself from going over the conversation again in her head, she realized that there was one other conclusion to be drawn from it. If Alexa did not propose to return to England for some time, she must be told about the rubies which were her birthright. Margaret wasted no time in writing.

  ‘This is a letter which ought to have reached you on your twenty-first birthday,’ she began. ‘But I hoped at that time that it would not be too long before you returned to England, so that I could speak rather than write, and also could put into your hands something which I consider too valuable to post across Europe. Today, though, Lord Glanville has told me of your decision to stay in Italy, and I must not allow you any longer to remain in ignorance of what is already rightly yours: a legacy from your father.

  ‘You may have guessed already that your mother was not married when you were born. I cannot know how much she talked to you about your father, but I doubt whether you can remember him, for he died while you were still very young. One day I would like to tell you about him, but not in a letter. Before he died, he gave your mother a box of precious stones -rubies – to keep for you; and she in turn handed them to me when she knew that she too was dying. They are yours now, and they represent a legacy of love. But they are also of great value. You must tell me what you would like me to do with them – but consider when you do so that they will need to be kept in a secure place.

  ‘I shall await your answer – but most of all, of course, I hope that you will come in person to collect your legacy, so that I may see you again after this separation which already seems so long.’

  Alexa’s answer, when it arrived a few weeks later, was as long and affectionate as always; but it brushed aside the subject of the legacy as though this was of little account.

  ‘You are right to suggest that the frequent moves which my career makes necessary pose difficulties in regard to valuable objects,’ she agreed. ‘All I can do is to make sure that my jewel case is always within sight of myself or my maid. So if the gift from my father has been safe with you all these years, I suggest that you should leave it where it is. I am not short of jewels, and I take greater pleasure in wearing a present in the company of the generous friend who gave it to me than I would do in flaunting the cold legacy of a man I never knew.’

  She could not have known how much Margaret would be hurt by such a casual dismissal both of a father who had loved his last baby so deeply and of the fortune in precious stones which had been the cause of so many separate unhappinesses in order that it should one day adorn Alexa’s hair and neck.

  It was tempting to write back with a fuller explanation of John Junius Lorimer’s circumstances at the time of Alexa’s birth. But even after so many years had passed, the shock and shame of the collapse both of Lorimer’s Bank and of its chairman had left a different kind of legacy imprinted on Margaret’s own mind.

  The wish that Alexa should feel proud of her father and be assured of his love conflicted with Margaret’s memories of the way in which her own love for John Junius Lorimer had been betrayed. Even if she had ever completely understood the situation which had led to her father’s death, it was too complicated to be explained on paper. Margaret promised herself now that she would tell the whole truth when it could be done face to face. There was no reason to believe that the delay would be of any importance.

  PART III

  Margaret in Jamaica

  1

  It is women’s work to preserve family ties – at least in the eyes of men, who expect communications to be maintained, but scorn to make the effort themselves. A woman who pursued a full-time career at the end of the century, however, had little time for the trivia on which such relationships depend. Margaret had never had much in common with her brother William, and their already strained relationship had been further weakened by her decision to remain independent of him after Charles’s death. Since her move to London at Lord Glanville’s instigation, she had ceased to visit Brinsley House even for holidays. She saw Beatrice from time to time, for her niece – still unmarried at twenty-seven – was by now the secretary of a Bristol group campaigning for women’s suffrage, and represented the city on a national committee which met at Lord Glanville’s house. But although Margaret corresponded with the Bristol branch of the family, remembering birthdays and exchanging news and good wishes, she had not actually spoken to William since the stormy conversation in which he had admitted his pa
rt in helping Alexa to escape from Margaret’s care. It came as a surprise, therefore, when she arrived home from the hospital one evening early in 1905 to find him waiting to see her.

  William wasted little time in polite exchanges about health or children, but came straight to the point.

  ‘I’ve just returned from Jamaica,’ he said.

  The statement came as a second surprise to Margaret, for it was not often that he tested his own ships. ‘Was the voyage for pleasure or business?’ she asked, realizing even as she spoke how foolish the question was. William was not a man to do anything for pleasure alone.

  ‘Trading conditions are changing,’ he told her. ‘For a long time the sugar industry has been showing low profits. I’ve had letters from planters in Jamaica, declaring their intention of changing their crop from sugar cane to bananas; and Ralph, who started in the banana trade in quite a small way, has been extremely successful.’

  ‘Ralph!’ exclaimed Margaret, astonished. It was as a Baptist missionary that their younger brother had gone out to Jamaica in 1882. Such was his devotion to his congregation that he refused to take all the home furloughs to which he was entitled, so that Margaret had not seen him for some years. But he had married her best friend, Lydia, and the two women corresponded regularly. Nothing in Lydia’s letters had suggested that Ralph had abandoned his vocation.

  ‘I mean, in the plantation which he manages on behalf of his congregation,’ William explained, impatient of the interruption. ‘Well, in their letters, the planters enquire about markets, but most of all they need to know that ships could be waiting when the crop is ready. Sugar and rum can wait for their passage, but bananas begin to ripen as soon as they are cut. I thought it wise to go myself to see how the ships should be equipped and whether the expense will be worth while.’