‘Fifteen seconds, Mr Forrester,’ the nun said slowly, looking at him through the grille.
It was also at that moment that May looked up properly for the first time, right into Herbert’s eyes. A ray of sunlight filtering in through the small window caught her face as she tilted it upwards and he could see that her own eyes were the same colour as her mother’s had been, that particular bright summer cornflower blue. Her smile was the same too, impish and full of the promise of mischief, and suddenly completely out of context with the place in which they both were at present.
‘Thank you, Mr Forrester,’ she said in that delightfully clear voice. ‘I should indeed be pleased to call on you in York as you suggest next Wednesday.’
The Reverend Mother stood up almost before May had finished talking. ‘I shall see to it that Miss Robertson is where you say next Wednesay at the time you say, and with a chaperone,’ she announced as one of the novices pulled her chair out of the way. ‘Good day.’
May did not dare risk a second look. She was staring down at the floor again as she made her way out of the room after the senior nun. A moment later the door behind him opened and the housekeeper appeared to escort the visitor out.
* * *
Jane knew nothing about Ruby Sugden so initially Herbert thought there was no need to tell her anything about her daughter either. Considering his wife’s frail physical and mental state he was afraid it would do more harm than good, imagining that it would be all too easy and given the circumstances only natural for Jane to leap to the wrong conclusions. So thinking that all he had to do was interview the girl more fully and then see to securing her future situation he set about examining various possibilities.
It appeared the best solution would be to arrange for Ruby’s daughter to live and be employed in London. Certainly anywhere would be better than York since in a place where both he and the girl’s late mother were well known there was always a danger that something would find its way to the surface and the chances were that by the time it did, like all such findings it would be disfigured beyond all recognition. So Herbert began to make discreet enquiries through various third parties as to where his charge might best be placed. He went about his business quickly and efficiently, so much so that as the day of May Robertson’s appointment drew near he felt confident enough to conclude that the matter was well in hand and that, were his charge to be agreeable, within another week he would have successfully discharged the first part of his Ruby’s posthumously made request.
May Robertson, however, had a very different idea as to how her future might go, and although Herbert found he was quite unable to agree with her, once he had met May properly and talked to her at length he was no longer able to stand by his own original suggestions.
MAY’S APPOINTMENT
At first he had no idea who she was. Then he thought there must have been a mistake and Morris had shown the wrong person into the wrong office. It frequently happened in a concern as large as Forrester and Co. Young women came to be interviewed for various positions in the company, increasingly so nowadays as so many girls of good quality were becoming actively employed, and many had been the time that when expecting someone quite different Herbert himself had found himself looking up from his papers into the eyes of some pretty young woman.
But never a young woman as pretty as this.
‘Excuse me, miss,’ he said, standing up behind his desk, ‘but I’m afraid there’s been a mistake or somesuch. I believe Morris must have shown you into the wrong office, so if you’ll just pardon me a moment—’
Herbert looked past the young woman to call his secretary back, but as quick as the glance he had given her was he still had time to notice the beginning of a faint but all too familiar smile on his visitor’s lips. ‘James?’ he called. ‘James, one moment, please?’
Morris appeared back at the door almost at once, much to Herbert’s relief since he had already felt the beginnings of a blush starting to creep up from under his stiff white collar. He said, ‘James, I think there’s been a slight mistake here. I am expecting a Miss Robertson. And while I failed to catch this young woman’s name—’
‘This is Miss Robertson, sir,’ Morris assured him. ‘Miss May Robertson whom you were due to meet at midday.’
May was still smiling at him, as if she knew perfectly well what was going through Herbert’s mind. Which of course she did. She knew he had been expecting a demure young girl of modest disposition, possibly still dressed if not exactly as he had seen her at the convent then certainly in like fashion, and still with her eyes cast to the floor as she had so long been taught to do, rather than a confident young woman, fashionably dressed in one of the newly popular matching outfits of jacket, skirt and sailor-style bodice and an elegant straw boater, and well able to match a gentleman’s open astonishment with a gracious and reassuring smile.
‘There is no mistake, I assure you, Mr Forrester,’ May said, and as soon as she spoke and he heard her voice Herbert knew for certain she was correct. ‘I am the same May Robertson whom you briefly met at the convent last week.’
‘Thank you, James,’ Herbert said, dismissing his secretary and turning his attention fully on his visitor. ‘It was just that in the circumstances—’
‘That grille is a wretched device, I agree,’ May said, filling the silence the still mightily perplexed Herbert had left. ‘I have to admit I had no real idea of what you looked like either.’
Of course there was more to it than that, a lot more, but May was not going to detail it. Herbert Forrester had not been the only one making provisions for May’s future. As soon as she learned she was to be free from the place she had hated with all her heart and soul for over thirteen years of her youth she had begun to make plans, first in her head and then with a rather plain but completely open-hearted girl called Charmion Danby who had in the last year converted to Catholicism because she had become increasingly convinced she had a true vocation. Prior to her conversion she had often invited May to come and stay at her family home, a beautiful little white house near Ambleside in Westmorland which stood in two or three acres of wooded gardens directly overlooking Lake Windermere, a house where May had spent the only really happy days of her long and otherwise miserable childhood. Captain and the Honourable Mrs Charles Danby, Charmion’s parents, were the kindest people May had ever known, and they did everything in their power to make any holiday the two girls might share together at their lakeside house as memorable as possible, but due to Captain Danby’s need to find work where he could (an injury had forced his early retirement from his regiment) the family were not able to spend as much time as they would like together as a family in the Lake District. As a result these heavenly, never to be forgotten sojourns were sadly few and far between.
Nevertheless, it had been Mrs Danby who had helped organize May’s all-important outing to York, acting as chaperone and insisting on not only helping to choose but making a present of May’s new outfit despite the fact that May had only asked for an advance against the bequest which she was to inherit in the immediate future. Privately as she had confessed to May she was devastated that her own daughter had chosen to become a nun rather than follow what Mrs Danby described as a ‘normal life’, but then such was the danger when sending a daughter to be educated in a convent. May had asked her why then Charmion had been sent to be educated by nuns when so many of the girls ended up taking the veil, to be told that the reason was one of economics. With her husband then away in the army and she herself living most of the year up in Ambleside, Mrs Danby had been given to understand there was no better education to be had in the north at such a fair price, and since the nuns were prepared to take in a large quota of non-Catholic girls it seemed to be the perfect answer to a very difficult question.
May had agreed that the education was as far as she could judge first rate, but she did not agree that it was to be had at a fair price. Mrs Danby had wanted to know why she thought as much, and May had replied perfect
ly frankly. ‘Because it is a truly austere place, Mrs Danby. We all think so, at least those of us who have not got a vocation. The nuns are so strict—’
Mrs Danby had stopped her at this point, arguing that while the nuns might well be considered strict, the Sisters of St Philomena were known as an order which was more than severe on itself, so it was inevitable that they would be stern to those in their care. After all these were godly women, and their main determination as far as their charges went was to make sure that they were kept pure and above sin.
‘Perhaps so, Mrs Danby,’ May had replied. ‘But not by being made to kneel on dried peas for an hour for fidgeting in Latin class, or having to stand on one leg in the corner for even longer because you had been caught sleeping without your arms crossed over your chest, or worst of all for the worst offences, such as being late or answering back, being beaten by the Mother Superior in front of the whole school. I do not consider the way the sisters treated us to have been godly, so much as unkind. I really didn’t like the convent, to be perfectly honest, not one bit. When I first came here, I used to pray with all my heart and my soul to God each and every night that I would die in my sleep.’
May showed no signs of tears of self-pity but even so Mrs Danby was upset enough to take her hands in her own as she answered her, saying that even if this were true, which she had no reason to doubt, there was nothing that she could do about it. Not only was she not a relative of May’s, let alone her parent, she was only a woman, and as far as matters such as these went a woman’s opinion counted for very little.
‘I don’t want you to do anything, Mrs Danby, thank you,’ May had replied with perfect equanimity. ‘Except that is to let me come and see you when I leave. I would hate not to see you and Captain Danby any more, and even though Charmion will be a novice by then, please may I still come and see you? I would earn my keep, I promise you. I would do anything you wanted, I don’t mind.’
‘You will always be welcome here, May, or wherever my husband and I shall be, that I promise you, my dear,’ Mrs Danby had replied with a smile. ‘But I shall do more than that. Not only will you always be a guest whenever you want in our home, but when the time comes I shall help you the very best I can to find your feet in this world.’
Mrs Danby was waiting outside Herbert Forrester’s offices now, talking to James Morris, while inside May was waiting for her mentor to come to his senses, something which Herbert was finding it difficult to do now that he realized he was looking at a young Ruby Sugden.
Except she was more than that, he decided as he politely directed his visitor to take a chair opposite him. She was even more beautiful than Ruby had been at that age, infinitely so. Ruby’s face had been more angular and her features a little more prominent. Her daughter’s face on the other hand looked as though it had been delicately chipped from the finest marble by the most skilful sculptor who had ever lived. It was one of the most perfectly formed human faces Herbert had ever seen, infinitely more beautiful even than that belonging to the notorious Lady Lanford. And it was such an innocent face. The smile by which he had been immediately entranced might contain the self-same element of mischief as the girl’s mother’s smile, but it was still a smile of sheer goodness, and the wide almost round eyes seemed from the innocence of their gaze as though they had always looked on nothing but beauty in all shapes and forms. In fact the more he viewed the appeal of the young woman sitting opposite him the more he became convinced that her beauty was indeed perfect.
Moreover now that her hair was no longer hidden by the severity of the scarf she had been forced to wear in the convent he could see that its colour was the same damask-rose blonde as her mother’s had been, but instead of piled high in a chignon it was dressed much more loosely in keeping with the current fashion, falling as far as to half cover her ears. As Herbert finally sat himself down, he decided that this young woman had what he believed was called an aura. There seemed to be a special quality surrounding her, and it was such a powerful ambience that fancifully he imagined had it been night instead of day and they had been sitting in the dark he would have been able to see this aura. It would be composed of streamers of the purest lights which would all have emanated from within this extraordinary ethereal being.
But she was saying something in that angelic voice of hers and laughing at the same time. Herbert blinked his eyes hard and suddenly in an attempt to bring himself back to his senses, hoping that while he had been dreaming like some dumbstruck schoolboy he had not without knowing it said something foolish.
‘Please forgive me,’ he said when May had finished whatever she had been saying. ‘I have to be perfectly honest with you and tell you, Miss Robertson—’
‘No, you must forgive me first, Mr Forrester,’ May said. ‘As I was saying I knew from your face I had caught you unawares, that perhaps I wasn’t quite what you were expecting, but you see when you have been shut away for as long as I have, Mr Forrester—’
‘It isn’t that you weren’t what I was expecting, Miss Robertson, to be perfectly frank with you if I may.’ Herbert removed a spotless white handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his brow. ‘Don’t think this forward in any way, Miss Robertson, but I don’t think you’d be what anyone was quite expecting.’
‘I don’t understand, I’m afraid.’ May frowned, genuinely concerned that something she had done or that somehow the way she appeared was wrong or embarrassing. Mrs Danby had gone to the greatest trouble to choose her what she considered would be the smartest and most proper outfit for this all-important meeting, but now May was worried that perhaps it was too à la mode for this particular gentleman’s taste. Or perhaps it was her hat. ‘Is it?’ she asked, as if she had already voiced the question. ‘I meant – I’m so sorry – I meant is my hat wrong or something? Is it about to fall off or is it crooked?’
Suddenly all the composure her first real outfit of clothes had given May vanished and her cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. She knew she should have brought Mrs Danby into the room with her, but whoever it was who had shown her into the office agreed with Mrs Danby that it would be perfectly proper for May to proceed with the interview alone with Mr Forrester because some of the matters he needed to discuss with his charge were confidential. However, the door would be left open at all times on Mr Forrester’s strict instructions. Even so, May looked round behind her as if to gain reassurance from her chaperone, but although she was sitting with a full view of the room Mrs Danby’s attention was wholly taken by the conversation she was engaged in with the gentleman who had shown May into the office.
‘It was that grille, do you see? In the convent.’ She looked back round and saw her mentor was now standing up behind his desk once more, carefully wiping the inside of his starched collar with his handkerchief as if it was the hottest day of the year instead of a rather chilly autumnal one. ‘I suppose I was expecting the person I glimpsed through the wretched thing. Rather than – well. Rather than such a perfectly groomed young lady.’
‘I agree, Mr Forrester,’ May returned, regaining a little of her confidence. ‘It is the most awful device. Some people faint if they have to sit looking at someone the other side of it for too long.’
‘You’ve obviously been shopping, I can see,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine they’d kit you out with clothes as smart as them in the convent.’
‘Mrs Danby who is chaperoning me, and who is the mother of a friend at the convent, very kindly took me to buy something to wear to meet you, Mr Forrester.’
‘You and Mrs Danby chose exceptionally well, Miss Robertson. If I may say so.’
‘Thank you.’
Herbert walked around the room in order to buy himself some breathing space. The moment he had seen her he knew the plans he had for her were useless. A girl as beautiful as she would be wasted working in some milliner’s shop, hidden away in an office somewhere, or worst of all stuck in a bleak and cheerless house in some damp and windy corner of England as the unloved gov
erness to a couple of spoiled children. A face like this should have a world to see it, yet as the illegitimate orphaned daughter of a whore she had no chance whatsoever of entering proper Society and therefore in reality no chance in life at all other than to earn a living as a shop assistant, a secretary or a governess, while waiting in hope of marrying some decent enough fellow who would turn a blind eye to her birth, a clerk to a solicitor perhaps, or a junior penpusher in a big concern like Herbert’s own. And what after that, Herbert wondered as he paced his office. They would settle down in some undersize house in some dreary backwater, the decent enough clerk unable to believe the good fortune which had enabled him to marry the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, while this same most beautiful girl would be grateful to her loving but finally dull husband for being so good as to give her the security of a home, and a family. Herbert groaned inwardly at the thought of all the children this ethereal creature would be expected to have, at least three or four but perhaps even more because her husband would be so determined to breed from the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in order to perpetuate her wondrous image.
But he would fail. This man whoever he might be would be too ordinary, too mortal to reproduce anything remotely like the image of the heavenly woman he had married, and in his quest to do so he might well kill her through perpetual childbirth, or else the sheer fatigue and exhaustion of the process would so dreadfully reduce her that she would lose her angelic looks and end up like all the other ordinary women Herbert had frequently seen from his carriage, walking their broods of children out in their local parks or on nearby commons, women tired out, numbed by and weary of their monotonous existences.
‘Miss Robertson,’ he began when he got back to his desk. ‘We touched on the subject in hand only too briefly during our first meeting, but now we may expand it. I refer of course to the matter of your future life, now that you are at an age to leave your school. As I mentioned to you there is a small bequest due to you, and it has fallen to me to organize the execution of the conditions attached to it.’
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