“Well, my dear, the wedding day is getting close, only a fortnight away. Most exciting for you, I should say. I’m sure you will look charming in your wedding dress, most charming.”
“Thank you, Sir Henry.”
“Now, no more of that ‘Sir Henry,’ my dear.” He smiled broadly. I could not help but think again how his mustache made him look like a walrus. Really, his valet should tell him so. “You must call me Papa.”
“Thank you, Papa.” I felt ridiculous calling him Papa, but if it pleased him, who was I to argue?
“Now, Edmund told me this morning of your request to go to an art school in London.”
“It’s not a request, Sir Henry. I’m going. I’ve done the work and I’ve been accepted.” I laughed a little. Nothing could keep me from art school now. It was absurd of Sir Henry to think he could put his paw over me like that, but I wondered why Edmund had even mentioned art school to him. I hadn’t told him I’d been accepted yet. Really, what business was it of his father’s?
Sir Henry waved his hand as if my statement were nothing but an annoying gnat flying around him, something that could be swatted down easily. “I don’t think so. It’s not the done thing for women in our family to be so, well, shall we say, present.”
The smile faded from my face. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean the answer is no. You won’t be going to art school,” Sir Henry said in a casual tone. He rose and crossed to a side table to pour sherry into two glasses. He handed one to me. I set it down on the table beside me. I did not want to drink it. “Do not think that word of your scandalous behavior in France passed me by. I am not stupid, nor am I willing to tolerate any similar behavior in the future. I will not have a daughter-in-law going to college, nor a bohemian one who keeps company with the great unwashed. I suggest you spend your days as India and my wife do, working with their charities and attending to their social obligations. That should please you.”
I stood up. “I have made my decision, Sir Henry. I don’t intend to flutter through life without leaving my mark. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my decision.”
“No. I’m sorry for you.” Sir Henry’s words held the promise of a threat. “I have no intention of my daughter-in-law ‘leaving her mark’ upon the world.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Oh, but I can!” Sir Henry spread his tailcoat out and sat back down. “Who do you think holds the title to your house? Who will pay your servants, buy your food, your clothing? I loosen and tighten the purse strings, my dear.”
I had to stay calm. It wouldn’t do to get angry with him. He was simply trying to control me, as my father had on so many occasions. “I don’t wish to be rude, Sir Henry.” His brows rose. “Forgive me—Papa. But I don’t need your money. My father has settled an allowance upon me in the wedding contract, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“He has, but it’s tied. He will release the funds after bills are submitted for his approval. Do you think he’ll approve of art school?”
My breath caught. I should have known. I should’ve have known that Papa would tie up my money in such a way. Freddy himself trod lightly when it came to his allowance, as he had attested that day when he said he was as much of a lapdog as I was. But Papa had not counted on the fact that Edmund was on my side. “Edmund will be working with my father and earning his own money. Edmund can pay for my schooling, then.”
“Not so.” Sir Henry settled back and took another sip of his sherry. “My son will only receive a small stipend until he inherits the business fully when your father passes. Do you think I’d let Edmund loose with money to gamble away just as he has done in the past, causing this family further shame and scandal? You will thank me for it later, my dear. Money slips through that young man’s hands. Your father and I are in complete agreement. What’s more, we will go to this art college and tell them you don’t have our permission to attend. So it’s no good you trying to wheedle anything out of him. We will have no more talk of this nonsense.”
I clenched my hands at my sides so hard that my nails cut into my palms. It was pointless to argue with such an irrational man.
As politely as I could, I left the study and I went in search of Edmund. After searching around the enormous house, I found him sitting in a leather chair, drinking brandy, in the library.
“Do you know what your father just said to me?” I said.
“Haven’t a clue, but most likely he’s pulled you up, judging from the look on your face.” Edmund watched me carefully, almost warily.
“He said I’m not allowed to go to art college. As if he has a say in my life! Edmund, you have to tell him that I’m going. Make him see sense.”
I assumed Edmund would stand up immediately and go confront his father, but instead he shrugged as if I had asked for something so inconsequential that he couldn’t be bothered to even get up out of the chair.
“There’s nothing for it, old thing. Our fathers hold all the aces. If he says you can’t go to college, then you can’t go to college.”
At first I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly. I was kneeling down in front of him and reaching out my arms to embrace him when his words seeped into my mind. And it was as if Edmund’s words had formed a fist that lashed out and struck me in the stomach. I could actually feel the breath leave my body.
Edmund was not going to stand up to his father for me. He didn’t even have the courage to look at me. He sat there, slumped in his chair, staring down into his blasted brandy, running his finger round and round the rim of the glass. I wanted to grab it out of his hand and dash it in his face. The coward! The absolute and utter coward.
I stood up and backed away from him, shaking my head. I couldn’t find any words to say. I turned and fled the room.
“Victoria!” I heard him call, but I did not pause. I heard his footsteps on the marble floor as he ran up behind me. He grasped my elbow. “Will you stop!”
I glared at him. “Did you know he wasn’t going to let me go to school?”
He glanced around. “I don’t want to talk about this here.” He took my hand and led me up the stairs to his rooms.
Edmund’s valet, Haskell, was stacking shirts in a bureau drawer. Edmund waved his hand, dismissing him. “I told him about your wishes and he said no, straightaway. I was going to tell you, but he beat me to it, as it goes.”
“Why can’t you stand up to him?” I sat on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Victoria. You’ve seen what he’s like. It would be like banging my head against a brick wall.” He took the stopper off the brandy decanter on his dresser and peered inside. “Blast! I’ve told Haskell to keep this filled.” He grabbed the bottle by the neck, strode to the door, and jerked it open. He called the valet back and handed the bottle out to him.
“We don’t need him, Edmund. We can find another place to live that’s less dear.”
“Victoria, consider what you’re saying. I won’t live in a mean flat somewhere and have to scratch for every ha’penny. My father doesn’t care if you paint, just as long as you keep it to the house. You have that little shed in the garden to draw your little pictures and whatnot. Why can’t that content you?”
“Because I want to learn more. I’m not satisfied with doing ‘little pictures,’ as you put it. I need to know more, Edmund.”
“Why? For what? It’s not as though you will exhibit your work.”
“That is my dream: to exhibit my work. Of course it is. But I will never be able to show anything without instruction.”
Edmund looked appalled. “It’s a bit thick, Victoria. I’m not happy with you putting your work about in public. It’s not the done thing in our circle, you know. Why not just leave it alone?” He began to pace the room. “Where is that damned Haskell with the brandy?”
“I won’t marry you, Edmund,
if I can’t go to school.” There was no point to my marriage with Edmund if I couldn’t go to school. Mercenary though it might seem, both Edmund and I had reasons of our own for this marriage.
He stopped his infernal pacing and turned to look at me. He had an expression on his face as though I had told him I had decided to become a lead miner.
“You’d give up a grand life with me just so you can put paint on a bit of card?” He was outraged.
“Is that what you think I do? How would you like it if I compared your rowing to punting on the Serpentine?”
Haskell came in with the brandy just then. Edmund took it. I could see his hands shaking as he filled the glass to the brim. He drank the brandy in one long gulp. “What about your seven hundred pounds, eh? Why don’t you talk to your own father? Why must I?”
“He won’t listen to me, Edmund,” I said, frustrated with the way the conversation was proceeding. “I’m just a girl!”
A cold rush came over me. What had just happened? Those dreaded words tumbled out of my own mouth so easily, as if I knew them to be true. Hearing myself speak that phrase was worse than hearing it from anyone else. Immediately, tears flooded my eyes.
Edmund came over to me. He took me in his arms, but I was frozen in place and stood rigid as a marble statue. “You’re right, of course. It’s my duty to speak for both of us.” His face was tender as he looked at me. He brushed his lips across mine. “Don’t cry. I’ll talk to my father, I promise. I’ll talk him round. You’ll see.”
I went back to my room and sank down onto the floor of my lavatory. I pressed my forehead against my knees and cried. My dreams shattered one by one as my future unfolded in my mind’s eye. I would bite my tongue and keep my opinions to myself. I would go along with plans laid out for me. I would hide my work away. The little summerhouse meant as my refuge would be my prison. And one day I would grow tired of pushing and shoving to take the tiniest of steps forward, and just like my mother, I would shut my sketchbook in the middle of a drawing and hide it away. I would lock the door of the summerhouse that held all my artwork inside, and leave it forever.
Because that’s what someone who was just a girl would do.
Thirty-Three
Carrick-Humphrey country manor house,
the blue guest bedroom
I LAY ON MY bed, feigning a headache for the rest of the day. I didn’t want to face Edmund or his father. Sophie came in a few times to check on me, a worried look on her face. She asked me once what was wrong, but I couldn’t say. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that my life had turned into utter shambles.
In the evening, Sophie dressed me for dinner in one of my new gowns, a dark lavender crepe de chine. I opened my jewelry box to choose accessories and I saw the mermaid that Lucy and I had made. I could use a little of her courage to face Sir Henry at dinner, so I scooped her out and pinned her to my gown.
Several of Edmund and India’s friends had come to join us for dinner that evening, including Edmund’s best friend, Kenneth. Edmund unbent in Kenneth’s presence. All tension left him, and he relaxed utterly, joking and messing about with him and two other boys from Oxford.
Dinner passed without event. The men talked about pheasant this time and what the weather would be like on the hills for shooting tomorrow. I smiled and nodded, chatting with India’s friends and feeling like a clockwork automaton. Edmund barely met my gaze at the table, apart from once when I caught him eyeing me nervously.
After Jonty and Sir Henry retired, Kenneth proposed a game of baccarat for the gentlemen. India and several of her friends played ragtime tunes on the gramophone and danced the turkey trot, giggling. I sat on a settee and watched, playing wallflower.
The clock struck midnight when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Victoria,” Edmund said. “I wonder if I might have a word.”
He took my hand and drew me to the back of the room. Edmund looked flushed and out of sorts; his bow tie was crooked and he reeked of whiskey. “I must ask a favor of you.” He put his elbow up against the wall by my head and leaned in. His breath was warm on my cheek as he whispered, “My father will not give me my allowance until next week, and I have need of money. Kenneth has emptied my pockets, damn his eyes, but I have a chance to win it back. I just need surety to do so.”
“You need money?”
“Only a loan, see? Until Monday week, and then I will pay you back.”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry. I have no money with me. Besides, I thought it was middle-class to talk about money.” I couldn’t resist the poke, but Edmund didn’t rise.
He brushed his fingers over the brooch. “This will do.”
“Edmund, that’s out of the question. I love this—”
“It’s only a bit of jewelry. If I lose it, I’ll buy you another one later.”
“I designed this myself. It means a lot to me!”
“Then just make another one.”
“That’s not the point—”
Kenneth leaned back in his chair and glanced at us. “Edmund. What’s it to be? You in or out?”
“A moment, gentlemen; I’m just speaking with my fiancée,” Edmund said, and then turned back to me. “You’re making a fuss over nothing.”
I twisted my engagement ring off and held it out to him on my palm. “If you are so sure you can win it back, then have this.”
Edmund glanced at my hand. “You’re being ridiculous! My father bought that. If I lost it, then it would be hell’s delight!” He snatched up my hand and shoved the ring back onto my finger. “Now stop making a scene and give me your brooch.”
“No! I won’t give it to you.”
A look of irritation bled through the calm expression on his face. He reached for the brooch, and at the same time I twisted away from him. I felt a sharp tug and heard my bodice rip. Startled, I looked down to see a long rent in my gown where my brooch had been. I clamped my hand to my chest.
I stared at Edmund in disbelief. I could see the mermaid’s tail poking out of Edmund’s fisted hand.
“Sorry, old thing. As I said, I’ll make it up to you.”
I set my jaw and reached down to grab his hand. I tried to pry his fingers away to get her back, but he was too strong. He laughed as though we were playing a fun game.
It was useless to fight him. My hand fell away from his. And I turned and left the room. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. As I walked down the hall, I could picture Edmund returning to the table, tossing the mermaid down upon the pile of tokens. And then with one snap of a card onto the green baize, losing her in an instant.
IT WAS ONLY jewelry, only a brooch, I tried to tell myself. But really it wasn’t just the pin that upset me so much; it was the utter indifference that Edmund had for something I loved so much, and the calculated way he ripped it right from me. As if I needed any further evidence that Edmund would never stand up for me. He had so little regard for my wishes or my possessions. He only thought of himself. He would never side with me against his father. I had piled all my hopes on Edmund, as if he were a knight in shining armor who would ride into battle for me. But I had given my favor to the one who refused to leave the castle.
But Edmund wasn’t all at fault. I’d happily played the role of damsel in distress. And if I didn’t want to remain the rest of my days just a girl, I would have to stand up for myself.
I rummaged through my art satchel to look for Bertram’s drawing on the day I posed at Monsieur’s atelier. I found it and took it over to the lamp. That girl portrayed in the drawing would have gladly chained herself to the railing, would have joined the suffragettes in prison. She would not have depended upon someone else for her livelihood. She never would have run away from a fight. Who was that girl?
I didn’t know, but I wanted to be her.
Thirty-Four
Edmund Carrick-Humphrey’s bedroom
I SAT IN MY room for se
veral hours, listening for Edmund to return. It was not hard to stay awake because my emotions were galloping through me like a Thoroughbred racing over the turf at Ascot.
At three o’clock in the morning I heard footsteps. I opened the door and saw Edmund reeling down the corridor. He stopped short when he saw me, and put out a hand to brace himself against the wall.
He was sloppy, stinking drunk. He grinned and acknowledged me with a little bow. “Well met, old thing. Waiting up for me?”
“I wish to speak with you.”
Edmund waved his hand and staggered past me to open his bedroom door. Haskell was sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room; his mouth was open and his head lolled to one side. Edmund flicked the lamp on, and the valet jumped to his feet, squinting at the light.
“Ha! Caught you sleeping, you bugger!”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Haskell stuttered, moving forward to help Edmund shrug out of his jacket. But then he caught sight of me, and his arms dropped to his side.
“Get out. I can undress myself. Go to bed, will you,” Edmund said to him.
Haskell bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“The man is useless,” Edmund muttered. He fumbled at his buttons and shrugged off his coat, letting it drop to the floor. “Now, what is it that you want?”
“I have something to say to you, Edmund.”
Edmund made a face. “Is this about that poxy brooch?” He picked up his coat and fumbled in one of the pockets. “Here.” He shoved the mermaid at me. “Kenneth didn’t want it anyhow.”
I took the brooch from him. I was glad to have her back, but that didn’t change anything. “You were reprehensible, Edmund. You tore this right off my dress!”
A Mad, Wicked Folly Page 27