‘Are you not in sympathy with the suffragists, Aunt Margaret?’ she asked.
‘I believe that women should have the same right to the vote as men. To that extent I am in sympathy with them – and indeed, I expect more than some of them do. But I think it unfortunate that so much attention is concentrated on this one reform, which by its very nature won’t have much practical effect for some time, even after it’s adopted, when there are so many other ways in which women need to be protected. You’ll find, Kate, that in England there are a great many women whose time and energy are under-employed. They have fewer children than their mothers did, but they still have servants to run their houses. If they were to take any kind of paid employment, it would be a reflection on their husbands, who are expected to support them; and in most cases they’re not qualified for any useful work. So the greatest element in their lives is that of boredom. I’ve never been in that situation myself, and you will never be either; but even in a short visit you were probably able to observe the symptoms in your aunt Sophie.’
Kate smiled her agreement, although it came as a new idea that she ought to feel sympathetic rather than contemptuous.
‘None of what I’ve been saying applies to the rich, nor to the poor,’ said Margaret. ‘But the class in between is larger than you might suppose. And it’s from this class, very largely, that the agitation for the vote has sprung. But what seems sometimes to be forgotten is the huge section of society whose women have no time to trouble about the vote, because all their energies are devoted to keeping alive and to keeping their children alive. In the course of your career, Kate, once you’re qualified, you’ll be able to contribute more to the happiness of women than all Alexa’s friends put together. There are thousands of women who are unhappy not because they are disfranchised, but because they are poor; and by far the most usual cause of poverty is ill-health – the ill-health either of the breadwinner in the family, or of his wife.’
Margaret checked herself and laughed, as though embarrassed to find herself making a speech. But Kate was stimulated by the conversation, for the words reinforced all her own ideals and ambitions.
‘In Hope Valley everyone is poor,’ she said. ‘And yet nobody is unhappy.’
‘It may be easier to be poor in a hot climate than in one which is often cold and damp,’ suggested Margaret. ‘The people of your father’s congregation wear only whatever clothes are needed for modesty. In England, warm clothes and strong boots are a necessity for health, and those who can’t afford to buy them suffer for it. In Jamaica, a house hardly needs to be more than a roof to keep off the rain. Here, wails and windows are needed as well, to protect a family against cold winds, and they can’t be obtained without payment of rent. There should be a fire for heat as well as for cooking; but coals must be paid for. Few people in the towns have the opportunity to grow their own fruit and vegetables as your villagers do, or to milk their own goats. They eat only what they can afford to buy, and very often it isn’t enough. When the father of a family in England is in work, his wife can usually manage to keep the household warm and fed, although it may be a struggle. But once he loses his job, the cycle of deprivation and sickness begins; and very often indeed the loss is caused by the ill-health of the father. It’s a problem which can be tackled from many different directions – by improving working conditions, or housing conditions, or educational opportunities, or health facilities. This year for the first time, as an example, old people with few resources of their own have been allowed a pension of five shillings a week, and this will prevent many cases of malnutrition and despair.’
‘I suppose that if women are allowed to vote, they may use their power to press for more measures of this kind,’ suggested Kate tentatively.
‘They may indeed. But their campaign is taking a long time and is monopolizing the attention of the most intelligent and forceful women in the country, so that reforms which might arouse less opposition are neglected for lack of pressure. We must all work in our own fields, and certainly I’m not criticizing Alexa. It would be very easy for a woman who is well paid and beautiful and famous to ignore the hopes of those less fortunate than herself. But if I had time to march in processions, my battle cry would be Happiness Through Health.’
‘When I’m qualified I shall work only amongst poor people,’ declared Kate.
‘Rich men sometimes need medical attention too,’ said her aunt, although her smile was sympathetic.
‘And have very little trouble in obtaining it,’ said Kate.
‘I see you are your mother’s daughter.’
‘My mother is like you, Aunt, in many ways,’ said Kate thoughtfully. ‘She tries to keep people healthy and helps them to be happy in the way of life in which they find themselves. But sometimes I feel a kind of anger which goes beyond that. Brinsley and I have a friend.’ She paused. ‘I believe you met him once.’
‘The brown boy who played cricket with Brinsley?’
‘That’s right. Duke. He’s very clever. I was telling my father before I left how clever he is. A lot of the people on the island don’t try to work very hard, but Duke does. If you had to compare him and Brinsley in almost any way, Duke would win the comparison. I mean, I’m very fond of Brinsley, but he does lark about most of the time.’
‘He’s younger than Duke, of course.’
‘Yes.’ Kate hardly thought the point important, but accepted it as a fact. ‘What I’m saying is that Brinsley will be comfortable all his life. He’s being well taught at school and he’ll go to university if he chooses and take up whatever career he likes and do as well in it as he can. All because his father is able to provide for him whatever is wanted. Father isn’t even a rich man, but still he can do that. Well, Duke doesn’t even know who his father is. His ability and application are greater than Brinsley’s, but he’ll never get the chance to show them. He’ll be an estate worker all his life, at the mercy of anyone who cares to put him out of a job. It doesn’t seem right that all this should have been decided, the whole pattern of two lives laid down, at the two moments when the boys were born.’
Margaret laughed aloud. ‘It sounds to me as though you’re a revolutionary, Kate. Don’t dig too hard at the foundations of society. If the whole system collapses on our hands, we may all be worse off in the end. And no two babies can be born with an absolutely equal chance of happiness. One may have a richer father than the other, but he may also have a more neglectful mother. Or some mental or physical defect. Poor little Grant, for example, might have expected to start life with all the same advantages as Brinsley.’
‘Yes.’ For a moment Kate was subdued by the memory of her younger brother. Then she embraced her aunt in a surge of impulsive affection. ‘It’s going to be so wonderful living with you and talking to you.’
‘You’ll find no shortage of people to talk to in London. Though your studies may not leave you much time to reorganize the world. And now, if you want to see Alexa on the march, it’s time you left.’
Margaret had been right to warn her niece of the crowds. Kate was accustomed to living in a small community, every member of which she had known from birth. Never in her life had she seen so many people gathered together in one place – and she could tell that even fifteen-year-old Robert, in spite of his attempt to act the part of a blasé Londoner in front of his colonial cousins, was equally astounded.
Hyde Park in itself might have come as enough of a surprise to the two Lorimers, for in Jamaica every inch of ground was either cultivated or else responded to neglect by turning itself into a jungle of dense vegetation. A lawn was a luxury reserved for the rich, and Kate had never imagined anything like this vast expanse of grass. Even in the countryside it would have been remarkable; in the heart of a capital city it was almost unbelievable. But the grass could hardly, in fact, be seen, for it had grown into a garden of flower-trimmed hats and sprigged white gowns. Even the gentlemen in the crowd wore bright ribbons round their straw boaters to add to the general impressi
on of summer gaiety.
All these were spectators, but only a few moments after Kate and the two boys arrived on the scene they heard the sound of music as the procession approached. It was led by a fife and drum band which marched with military precision. All its members – even the drum major – were women, dressed in a uniform of purple, green and white, with shorter skirts than Kate had ever seen on an adult. Behind the band, divided into twenty groups, marched the active supporters of the suffrage movement. They carried banners to proclaim the part of the country from which they came – except for the first group of all, which appeared to be organized on a different basis. It announced itself as the Actresses’ Franchise League; and although its members wore the same ‘Votes for Women’ sashes as the other demonstrators, they contrasted strikingly with those who followed them by reason of the elegance of their figures and gowns. All of them were good-looking; but one, tall and slim, with a pale, translucent complexion and hair of reddish gold, was the most beautiful woman Kate had ever seen.
Robert nudged Kate in the ribs. ‘That’s Alexa,’ he said.
Even as he spoke, Alexa began to sing. It was a marching song, to which the band ahead provided a rhythmic accompaniment, and the effect on the procession was visible and immediate. Shoulders were straightened, heads held higher, hundreds of feet marched with a firmer stride. And the thousands of spectators, who until this moment had been talking and laughing in a picnic atmosphere, fell silent to listen. Alexa’s voice was as beautiful as her face, and powerful as well, but there was something more than that which drew all eyes towards her. Something intense in her personality concentrated the attention of her hearers, but at once an outgoing impression of gaiety and love of life rewarded them with a feeling of warmth. Kate found herself smiling – not for any particular reason, but because she was overcome by happiness. She hardly listened to the speeches which were delivered from a series of platforms distributed over the large area of grass, but instead hugged her excitement to herself. How lucky she was to be living at the centre of the world, in a capital city teeming with new ideas – and how doubly lucky to have the prospect of intimacy with such outstanding women as her aunt and Alexa.
‘What relation is Alexa?’ she asked Robert as at last the crowds began to disperse.
‘She’s my aunt. Well, your aunt as well. My mother’s sister.’
‘Same mother, same father?’ asked Kate. It was a question which came automatically in Jamaica when relationships needed to be established; because all too often there the answer was ‘No, same mother, different father.’
This time there was a variation. ‘No,’ said Robert. ‘Just same father. A half-aunt, I suppose.’
‘She doesn’t seem old enough to be anyone’s aunt. She can’t be any older than Cousin Beatrice.’ Kate considered the comparison while Robert agreed that the generations did seem to have become rather mixed up. There was something about Beatrice which flattened and depressed the spirits, whereas Alexa had the power to stimulate even those who did not know her. Kate looked forward to their first meeting; but it came on a less joyful occasion than she had expected.
Kate and the two boys returned to Queen Anne’s Gate to find that Alexa had reached the house before them, driven in a motor car by an admirer. She was sitting in the drawing room with Margaret, and it was clear at once that something untoward had occurred. As soon as Kate had been introduced, Margaret revealed what it was.
‘I’m sorry to say that my brother William has died. The news came while you were out.’
Kate adopted a properly sombre expression, although her uncle was so little known to her: the few minutes of angry conversation which had preceded his stroke had hardly persuaded her to feel any affection for him. Alexa, it seemed, was less prepared to be hypocritical. She stood up and walked with a quick, gliding step to the window.
‘I’m not going to pretend to a sorrow I don’t feel,’ she said. ‘He never liked me. When I was a child he resented my presence in his house. And when I grew up he behaved abominably to me. Abominably. I shan’t write, and I shan’t go to the funeral. Will you go, Margaret?’
There was a long silence. Kate remembered that her father had mentioned an estrangement between his brother and sister.
‘I have even more cause to be angry with him than you have, Alexa,’ Margaret said. ‘Quite apart from the grief he caused me on your account, he changed the whole course of my life many years ago. I may have been a more useful member of society as a result of his deceit, but I should have been a good deal happier if he hadn’t interfered. If he had lived, I should certainly never have spoken to him again. And yet – yes, I shall go to the funeral.’
‘Why?’ demanded Alexa passionately. ‘Why must you go?’
‘Because it seems the right thing to do. Because I have no quarrel with the rest of his family, and they are the ones who would take my absence as an unfriendly gesture. And perhaps also because a small part of my own life dies with William – the years when I shared a nursery and a schoolroom with him in the house that is now his. Or rather, I suppose, now Arthur’s. Arthur Lorimer is likely to find himself an extremely rich young man. William was never interested in anything but making money, and in that he appears to have been remarkably successful.’
‘Will his other children not inherit any of his wealth?’ asked Kate.
‘The contents of wills very often come as a surprise to those who think they know what to expect,’ said Margaret. ‘I can only guess. I imagine he will have left Sophie some kind of life interest in the house and in a part of his income. I should think also that he must have recognized how unlikely it is that Beatrice will ever marry. It would be only kind to provide her with a competence, rather than forcing her to apply to her brother for money. But after that, William would not be a man to dissipate his resources. He must long ago have recognized that Arthur has inherited his own genius for increasing the Lorimer fortune. He would have realized that leaving the bulk of his property to Arthur would be the best investment for the family.’
‘Isn’t there an elder son as well?’
Margaret glanced at Alexa, who was still staring out of the window with her back to the others. Kate found her aunt’s expression difficult to understand, but the answer came calmly enough.
‘Matthew. Yes. But Matthew angered his father a great many years ago by refusing to take his place in the family business. Since then, his way of life has not been one of which his parents could approve. And William had a talent for giving his own relations cause to quarrel with him. He wasn’t always honest with Matthew. Even if he had wished for a reconciliation with his elder son before he died, I doubt whether he would have been successful. I would be surprised if his will includes any legacy to Matthew.’
The mention of a legacy brought uneasily back to Kate’s mind the subject of the tirade which had seemed to cause her uncle’s stroke. Even in such friendly surroundings she did not like to say anything which would cause awkward questions to be asked of her father, in case he might not be able to answer them, but that did not dampen her curiosity.
‘When your own father died, Aunt Margaret, what legacies did he leave?’
‘My father’s situation was unusual, not to say unfortunate,’ Margaret replied. ‘He was an immensely rich man almost for the whole of his life, right up until its last few months. But he died a bankrupt, owing more to the creditors of the bank he controlled than he could possibly pay out of his own estate. So the strict answer to your question is that he left nothing at all to any of his children. In fact, however, he made one or two substantial gifts before he died – before it became illegal to diminish his estate. William, for example, was given the family shipping company, the Lorimer Line, on his twenty-first birthday – and there could be no criticism of that gift, for it was several years before the collapse. My own twenty-first birthday present was a house. It was intended for my own occupation after my marriage, but when those plans fell through it helped to pay for my medical training
. It was more doubtful, perhaps, whether he ought to have given me that, but the gift was never challenged. Your father was the unluckiest of us. He was only a schoolboy at the time of our father’s death. In different circumstances I’m sure he would have been given his fair share. As it is, you can feel very proud that he has achieved so much by his own efforts.’
‘I was not even a schoolchild when John Junius Lorimer died,’ said Alexa quietly, without turning round. ‘I was three years old, yet he left me a fortune in rubies to hang round my neck. It’s as well that your father is a man of God, Kate, or he would have had cause to be angry at the unfairness of life and the haphazard way in which fortune distributes her prizes.’
‘Kate and I have had this conversation once today already,’ said Margaret. Her tone immediately lightened the atmosphere, and Alexa was quick to respond. She sat down beside Kate and clasped her hands, demanding to be told all her plans for the future. All the excitement of the afternoon returned, augmented by an extra gaiety when Frisca was brought in for her hour of playtime. By the time Kate went to bed that night she had lost the last traces of the homesickness which had attacked her in Bristol. She was living amongst friends who were determined to love her, and she would soon be beginning the training on which her heart had been set for years. In the contentment of a half-sleep she saw the promise of happiness in both the present and the future, and gave no further thought to her uncle’s angry strictures about a misdirected legacy. ‘No better than a thief!’ he had cried, but it was an accusation which could never be repeated, because the accuser was dead.
PART VI
Alexa at Blaize
1
The death of a king brings fashionable society to a standstill. While the lower classes of England shed a tear for ‘poor old Teddy’ and then returned to their normal pursuits, the aristocracy was forced to wear black and stay at home.
The Lorimer Legacy Page 30