The Rector's Daughter (Part Two of The People of this Parish Saga)

by Nicola Thorne

  Eliza sometimes felt that, had she known what she now knew about Julius, she was sure she wouldn’t have married him. She had never really been drawn to him, never fallen in love, and her assessment of his character before their marriage had, sadly, turned out to be correct. He had wooed her for a number of years, and there had been something about his persistence that had charmed and then convinced her. She had never been attracted to him for his money, but for the sense of security that he’d given her, the love he offered her. But in their marriage there had been no passion, little tenderness, just a sense of mutual obligation, tolerance and respect.

  The children had also found it awkward to come close to Julius, though both sides seemed to try. He was fondest of Dora, and did his best to treat her as a daughter. Eliza often wondered if his cold detachment was defensive, because he had lost so many children before birth, his wife having finally died in childbirth. As if, haunted by the ghosts of the unborn – and also, perhaps, by guilt, who knew? – he found it difficult to make personal connections.

  However, today there was an added reason for her nervousness, her feeling of unnatural chill. Laurence was faced with bankruptcy, and she had determined to try and intervene in order to save him.

  Restlessly Eliza got up and crossed the room to look out of the window, but it was now raining hard and Julius and Snap had disappeared. Shortly afterwards she heard his footsteps on the stairs, and went to the door to greet him. Snap was barred from the drawing-room.

  ‘My dear, did you get terribly wet?’ she asked with wifely concern.

  ‘I changed my shoes and socks.’ Julius looked at his feet with a grimace. ‘And Snap is drying out in front of the kitchen fire. This terrible English weather.’ He rubbed his hands together, blew into them, and went over to the fire to warm them.

  ‘Julius, I wonder if we could have a few words?’ Eliza said hesitantly, resuming her seat on the other side of the fire.

  ‘Of course, my dear. Anything important?’ Still with his hands to the fire, Julius turned to her, smiling.

  ‘Very important.’

  ‘Then you have all my attention.’ He produced his pipe from his pocket and went over to a box of tobacco which, together with the other paraphernalia of smoking, he kept on a side-table. He then began to fill his pipe in the slow, leisurely way that always rather infuriated Eliza. Indeed, there were a lot of things about her husband that irritated her, and they seemed to get worse the longer they were married. Now he looked at her with an expression of such complete detachment that she wondered how many would-be borrowers or defaulters from his bank had seen that expression with dread.

  ‘It is about Laurence, I suppose?’ he said impassively. ‘I can tell by the gravity of your expression.’

  ‘It is about Laurence,’ she agreed, joining her hands around her knees. ‘The Two Counties Bank are going to petition for bankruptcy.’

  ‘Oh dear, I am sorry about that.’ Julius finished filling his pipe and then began to light it slowly, taking his time, puffing away.

  ‘I wondered if there was anything we could do, Julius?’

  ‘How do you mean, Eliza?’ He blew out his match and looked at her with a mystified air.

  ‘If we could help him financially.’

  ‘How much does he need?’ Julius asked in a voice that made Eliza’s heart bound with hope.

  ‘Several thousand.’

  ‘I understand it is in the region of thirty to forty thousand.’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Her voice was flat. ‘I should have known you would.’

  ‘I make it my business to know these things, and when my stepson is involved you can imagine I take a keen interest. I took care to inform myself in case you should wish to talk to me.’

  ‘Then ... can you help?’

  ‘My dear Eliza, what is the point of throwing good money after bad? My bank certainly won’t touch Laurence’s debts and, personally, nor would I care to. There is no knowing when it would stop.’

  ‘Just help in paying off the loan. There is the business. He has a half-finished factory to sell, and he says prospects are good.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think they are good,’ Julius said sombrely. ‘The various branches of our bank in Europe detect stirrings of unrest.’

  ‘What kind of unrest?’

  ‘Political and economic. People who want to undermine society: the Bolsheviks in Russia, the communists and anarchists in Germany. Germany is seething with discontent, and the Kaiser is much hated.’

  ‘But my dear Julius, what has that to do with Laurence?’

  ‘Eliza, if there is unrest in Europe, who knows what it will do to business worldwide? There will be a fall in demand. Even we will be less profitable. Trust me, I know what I’m saying.’ He sat down and, pipe in hand, smiled at his wife. ‘It is far better for events to take their course, for Laurence to be made bankrupt – and then he can start all over again. I may be able to help him in a small way then.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d want your help then,’ Eliza said, rising and returning restlessly to the window, where she looked out at the sodden earth. ‘And nor should I.’ She turned and gazed at her husband. ‘Yetmans have a proud name, Julius. Laurence is proud. The business was started over a hundred years ago by his great-grandfather Thomas. Laurence has worked at it since boyhood. It means an enormous amount to him.’

  ‘Then he should have managed it better,’ Julius said drily. ‘If he had, he would not have been in this predicament.’

  ‘He was taken in by someone recommended by your bank ...’

  ‘No, my bank did not recommend Wainwright,’ Julius said firmly. ‘To his enquiry they replied that they knew of him, but had not done business with him. If your son took that as a “recommendation” he was a fool.’

  ‘Bart Sadler introduced him.’

  ‘But put no money in the venture, I understand.’ Julius sucked at his pipe. ‘He acted as a broker without involvement. Now, he is sensible. He is a person I might put some money on.’

  ‘I think you’re being perfectly horrible,’ Eliza burst out. ‘Horrible and mean-spirited.’

  Julius’s eyes narrowed, but he considered his reply before speaking:

  ‘My dear, I think you’re being emotional, and I hope those are words you’ll regret. Your concern for your son is admirable. But the Woodvilles are hopeless, you know. They can’t handle money. When I married you, you didn’t have a penny.’

  ‘I didn’t marry you for your money,’ Eliza expostulated.

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t, but I just meant it as an example. Ryder should have made provision for you and left you better-off.’

  ‘Ryder was not a Woodville,’ she said acidly.

  ‘Well,’ Julius shrugged, ‘he’d married one. Someone in the Woodville family is always in debt, begging for help. They’re absolutely hopeless.’ He raised a hand dismissively. ‘I really can’t see why I, who have been a careful man all my life and amassed a fortune’ – his voice started to rise with emotion as he spoke – ‘why I, who never got into debt or owed anyone a penny, should bail out the spendthrift Woodvilles. Not long ago I was asked to consider buying Pelham’s Oak. As if we hadn’t had enough in the past from that free-spending brother of yours and his mistresses.’

  ‘Mistresses?’ Eliza spun round. ‘I only knew of one: Agnes.’

  ‘The really expensive mistress was Lally.’

  ‘Lally was Guy’s mistress?’ Eliza reached for the nearest chair and collapsed into it.

  ‘For several years, when she was a penniless dancer in London. He even bought her a house, which was how Margaret found out about him. Now she was a real Heering, astute and careful about money. Margaret wished to keep an eye on her husband. However, it didn’t prevent him from having an affair with Agnes; but by that time Margaret had become more tolerant. She knew she had him and he would never leave her.’

  ‘Margaret knew about Agnes too?’ Eliza looked incredulous.

  ‘Very little escaped Ma
rgaret,’ Julius said with a superior smile. ‘She also knew about Elizabeth and appreciated your tact. She knew, but he never knew she knew. He was very fortunate to have a wife like my sister. I doubt that Agnes will prove such a pearl.’

  ‘Guy and Lally!’ Eliza could hardly believe it.

  ‘And they too had a child.’ Julius shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Disgraceful, really.’

  ‘A child?’ What more was there to hear, Eliza wondered?

  ‘A son. She had him adopted, but eventually she took him back.’

  ‘Then that could only be Roger,’ Eliza murmured.

  ‘It is Roger, and he has turned out well – for a man, that is, whose father is a Woodville. He is financially very sound. We are extremely pleased with Roger. He has a natural instinct with money and will do well.’

  ‘But why was I never told anything about this?’

  ‘Lally wished it to be kept secret. She was very wise.’

  ‘Does Roger know?’

  ‘He does, now. He made the discovery before his marriage and it naturally distressed him. He found it hard to forgive his mother, and still does, especially in view of her devotion to this foundling, Alexander – the sort of thing which can only be ascribed to a woman in her dotage. One can’t blame Roger for his resentment of her. A few months abroad with Prosper will do him the world of good. Now, my dear,’ Julius looked at the clock, ‘it will soon be time for lunch. Will you have a sherry?’

  ‘I think I will,’ Eliza said in a low, vibrant voice. ‘I feel I need it.’

  Lunch was eaten in virtual silence, Julius and Eliza sitting as they usually did at opposite ends of the large table, waited on by an extensive staff. Their life in the country was regulated by habit and, after lunch, Julius usually rested while Eliza took the dogs for a walk.

  But today she decided to go into town, and after the meal was finished she went up to her room. Julius accompanied her, and as he was about to proceed to his room just beyond hers, he stopped and put a hand on her arm, a kindly, concerned expression on his face.

  ‘I am so sorry, dear, about Laurence. I want you to know that I wish I could do something to help; but I really feel that the law should take its course. It would go against the instincts of a lifetime if I attempted to assist him. I know it would be wrong. If, eventually, he would like to come and talk to me, I should be only too pleased to give what advice I can, to save him from similar errors in the future.’

  Eliza didn’t reply but turned the handle of her bedroom door and went in, shutting it behind her. Julius stood for a few moments looking at it, and then, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he went along the corridor to his own suite.

  Once inside her bedroom, Eliza hastened over to a cupboard which she always kept locked and, unlocking it, drew a silver jewel-box from its velvet pouch.

  It was true that, despite her noble birth, she had never been wealthy, never had money of her own – apart from what she had received from both her husbands; and at one time she and Ryder had known real poverty. But she had been left jewellery by her mother, and been given more by the men in her life, some of it of remarkable quality.

  Eliza sat on her bed examining the various pieces, remembering – sometimes with a pang of sorrow, sometimes with joy – the significance of each one. The brooch Ryder gave her when Laurence was born, studded with diamonds and amethysts. The diamond necklace Julius had placed round her neck on their wedding-night, asking her to keep it, and only it, on while he made love to her. Excited and amused, she had concurred; but with hindsight she saw new significance in his curious gesture, in that he had made love not only to her but to his money, and the power it gave him.

  She would not part with the brooch that had been bought out of Ryder’s first earnings, but she would gladly part with the rich man’s necklace – the price of her bondage, it seemed to her now.

  She placed the necklace in its box, then tucked the box into her handbag and, throwing on a coat, ran downstairs and asked for the car to be sent round to the front door.

  Five minutes later she was walking down the steps and through the door held open by the chauffeur, who shut it smartly and then went to his seat.

  ‘Where to, madam?’

  ‘My son’s house, please,’ she said and, with a sigh and a sense of deep foreboding in her heart, leaned back against the luxuriously cushioned upholstery.

  When Eliza reached Riversmead there was a silence about the house that she thought unusual. Usually there was a gaggle of children on the lawn, mothers playing with them or sitting on benches, and maids ferrying trays with cordial, cakes or cups of tea. But today no one was about, even though it had stopped raining and the sun was out.

  As the car came to rest outside the porch, however, Sarah Jane appeared at the door, and when she saw who it was she ran down the steps to greet her mother-in-law with a smile.

  There was a feeling of real affection between the two women.

  Sarah Jane was very like Eliza at her age: practical, warm-hearted, keen on helping in the community, a loving mother and, Eliza guessed, a loving wife. There was a closeness between her son and Sarah Jane that reminded Eliza of herself and Ryder; and the best things in Ryder – his warmth, his humanity, his love of family – she saw in his son.

  ‘What a lovely surprise, Mother,’ Sarah Jane said as she helped her out of the car. She always referred to Eliza as ‘Mother’, though her own was still alive.

  ‘Where are the children?’ Eliza enquired. ‘Everything seems so quiet.’

  ‘They’ve all gone up to Pelham’s Oak.’

  ‘Oh!’ Eliza looked surprised.

  ‘You know Sophie is leaving very soon, and today she is giving a children’s party.’

  ‘Sophie is leaving?’ Eliza looked astounded. This was a day for discovering how excluded she was from other people’s counsels.

  ‘Agnes has asked her to go, didn’t you know? She’s going to live temporarily with her parents. She told me she would like to get out of the district altogether, maybe to find a living-in post as a governess or housekeeper, and send the children to boarding-school. Of course, I would help her but’ – Sarah Jane gestured helplessly around – ‘we ourselves may not be here for very much longer either.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Eliza, having walked with her daughter-in-law into the house, flopped down into one of the comfortable armchairs. ‘I simply refuse to believe it ...’

  ‘What can’t you believe, Mother?’ Behind her she heard Laurence’s cheerful voice, and she rose swiftly from her chair and threw her arms around his neck.

  ‘Oh, darling. It’s good to hear you sounding cheerful.’

  ‘Your mother was saying that she couldn’t believe the bank would foreclose and we would lose the house.’ Sarah Jane’s own cheerfulness had gone, to be replaced by lines of worry on her face.

  ‘Well, it’s happening. The hearing is in a few days’ time. It will simply be a winding-up operation. I have no defence.’ His own voice was not so cheerful now. ‘I can’t sell the factory, Mother. It’s useless to pretend I can do any more. I can’t find a buyer for something that is only half-constructed.’

  ‘No one at all?’

  ‘It is designed for a specific purpose, to manufacture agricultural machinery, and it is only someone with a similar interest who would buy it. It will probably be better to raze it to the ground.’

  Eliza withdrew her arms from round Laurence’s neck and, with his hand in hers, walked with him over to the sofa where they sat down together.

  ‘Julius thinks the outlook for business on the whole is bad.’

  ‘Oh? Why does he say that?’

  ‘He says there are stirrings on the Continent, unrest in the Balkans ...’

  ‘Not likely to affect us much.’ Laurence sounded sceptical.

  ‘Well, that’s what he thinks.’

  ‘He always was a merchant of gloom.’ Laurence laughed rather gloomily himself. ‘Any news of Dora, Mother?’

  �
�A letter a few days ago.’ Dora had gone to stay with relations of Julius’s in New York. ‘She’s having a wonderful time.’

  ‘And Hugh?’ Hugh was climbing in the Alps, an activity his mother preferred not to think of.

  ‘Well, I don’t hear from him, of course. No news is good news.

  Hugh, who had taken a double first at Oxford, was now a Fellow of All Souls and taught philosophy at the university. The only reckless aspect of an otherwise quiet and studious life was this passion for rock-climbing.

  ‘Laurence,’ Eliza clung on to his hand, ‘I have spoken to Julius about you. I said I would. I don’t want you to think I didn’t try.’

  ‘And I can see by your face it’s not good news,’ he said, regarding her gravely.

  ‘It isn’t, I’m afraid. He says he doesn’t want to throw good money after bad, but is willing to help with advice only, after ...’

  ‘Much good that is.’ Laurence rose and gave Sarah Jane a despairing look. ‘If he could only lend me the money, I know I will repay it.’

  ‘I know you will too. Like your father, you are a worker; but I’m afraid Julius won’t budge. I’m sorry. It is hard, and I am very angry with him, but there are two aspects of Julius that never meet: the personal and the business sides. He is able completely to compartmentalise his life in a way that I, who am totally involved with my family, find hard to understand.’

  ‘Don’t forget he’s a Heering. They’re all like that. Remember how tight even Aunt Margaret was?’

  ‘Julius thinks it’s better you should go bankrupt and then start again. He says he would be delighted to give his advice then.’ Eliza’s tone was openly sarcastic, and Laurence laughed mirthlessly.

  ‘I won’t need his advice then.’

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I shall have lost my house, my business ...’ Laurence’s face darkened ‘... and that Scrooge of a husband of yours is worth millions, not thousands, but millions.’

  ‘Probably.’ Eliza, nodding dispassionately, drew her handbag towards her. ‘Darling, I have, as you know, no personal wealth, or it would all be yours, but I have a few pieces of jewellery that I was going to distribute among my children anyway on my death.’ She opened the box and displayed the dazzling necklace. ‘This was a wedding-gift from Julius. The diamonds were cut in Amsterdam. I’ve hardly ever worn it. I should have thought it would fetch a few thousand. In all ...’