The Price of Beauty

by McCabe, Helen

  “Oh, aye,” he smiled, agreeing with her. “Over the machinery!”

  “In the night you can.” she said softly. “Where did you pick the snowdrops?”

  “By the Salwarpe. There was a pretty clump where the water eddied about some sticks. Near the bridge. A lonely spot.”

  “They always grew there,” she replied, “when I used to walk out in secret with your father.” She closed her eyes. Caleb put down the cup and kissed her.

  “Sleep now,” he said. “I’ll see you at dinner. I must get off to the sheds.” As he strode down the corridor, away from his mother’s bedroom, it was with a sense of relief at what he’d learned.

  And telling her had not been as bad as he’d feared. She had not taken hysterics nor a seizure. She seemed to understand he would look after her.

  As he entered his bedroom and found the garments for his working day had already been laid out by his valet, his strong fine lips curled into a smile.

  Now he was master, things would be different at Raven’s Mill! And his mother had nothing to fear any more...

  *

  “There will never be peace in that house,” cried Aunt Elizabeth, handing the newspaper to Lydia.

  “Which, aunt?”

  “Raven’s Mill! But I pity the boy.” There was a soft look on old Miss Annesley’s face as Lydia scanned the column with anxious eyes. She blanched.

  “What a misfortune, aunt! How terrible for Caleb Vyne!”

  “Aye, that it is,” replied Elizabeth sincerely. “What life has Lavinia enjoyed - except when she ran off with Harry Vyne!”

  “But to die so,” cried Lydia, thinking of Caleb’s distress. “What can we do to help him, aunt?”

  “Naught as far as I can see,” replied Elizabeth, “but we may attend the funeral as a mark of respect. Lavinia and I were acquainted in our youth. She was always a restive, weak thing given to fancies. She wouldn’t have suited our Bertram. I hope she may rest in peace.”

  “Amen,” said Lydia, pushing The Journal from out of her sight. Her heart was full of sorrow too. Not on account of Lavinia Sheridan, whom she had known only by reputation, but on her son’s, whose devastation must have been, by then, utterly complete!

  *

  The chimney smoke which hung over the town of Upwych had cleared for a few short hours and the day was not the Sabbath. The shops were closed and the tolling bell reminded brinemasters and salters alike they had a funeral to go to.

  Indeed, most of Upwych turned out for the funeral of Lavinia Vyne. On account of the evil reputation the Sheridans had brought to the town, the brinemaster’s daughter was spoken of in the name they knew best. The Sheridans had been newcomers and, in a place like Upwych, such were viewed with suspicion.

  But the salters had known and loved Harry Vyne, and it was his name they spoke as they mourned for his widow. They came too as a mark of respect for his son, Master Caleb.

  There had been many who bore the Strettons ill-will and had stated publicly they wouldn’t be seen anywhere near Dodderhill Church and who, afterwards, relented. They were not there, they said, out of respect for old Stretton, who looked likely to be in his own coffin soon, but for Miss Lavinia, who’d followed her heart all those years ago and made a good choice.

  Sally Shrike, now well on in her pregnancy, stood with her family beyond Chapel Bridge. She was the eldest Shrike now and no use to the others. Her mother was sole breadwinner and, if it hadn’t been for Caleb Vyne, the nippers would have starved.

  Her legs ached as she faced that blustery day which sent the rooks tossing like feather dusters through the sky, but up on the hillside beneath the church, there was a bloom of green on the bushes already.

  The salters stood, hatless, as the cortège wound by. Old Stretton had distinguished himself by his avarice but he was almost out of his wits, seated, nodding in the carriage behind the hearse.

  They had heard that he wished to deny his only daughter a decent burial but Mr Caleb and the Stretton shareholders had the persuasion of it in the end and were giving Lavinia the magnificence never accorded to her in life.

  The glass hearse pulled by six spirited horses, sporting plumes, dragged slowly up the hill, followed by a score of carriages, full of mourners. Gentlemen in sober black suits, with scarves of black crepe worn across one shoulder and with hatbands to match.

  There were no close Stretton relations in womankind, but the wives of the town’s luminaries were wearing black dresses and black gloves.

  And, in front of it all, the local undertaker and his top-hatted men had learned the dead march well.

  There were many whispers as the Annesley landau, driven by Blanchard, passed through the workers.

  Sally’s mother turned to her next door neighbour:

  “That her’s come is some surprise!”

  “Aye, after what that rascal done to her! Young heiress is a good-lookin’ lass though!”

  “True enough! And Miss Elizabeth was allus a fair one. And her carried the torch for Master Vyne --”

  “Aye, and ain’t his son like ’im! The very image! But ’e ain’t got the smile!”

  “Hush, ma,” warned Sally. She’d have no word said against Mr Caleb. Sam had loved him and so did she. He’d been the world to them both. And what had Mr Caleb to smile about anyway with burying his mother?

  Sally pulled her garments close to her to huddle against the wind. It was a strange thing that the baby coming was kin to Mr Caleb. But she knew that, although she hated its father, she would love it for his brother’s sake!

  *

  Caleb’s head was bent as he sat in the narrow pew. He stared at his knees and the cold stone floor, then up at the stained-glass windows. Anywhere but at the coffin where Lavinia lay.

  Finding her was something he’d never forget on the very day after he’d told her she was safe with him ... He’d been called from the salt sheds by Hannah. The maid’s face was worried and red from running. She held her side, sore from a stitch.

  “Master Caleb, Master Caleb!” He’d managed to get some sense out of the girl finally. His mother had been talking all morning to her about wanting to send someone to look for Mr Sheridan. She had some notion he’d gone into Upwych and would be taking the drink.

  Finally, Lavinia had sent for Caleb’s valet. But the man had gone into Upwych himself to the tailor’s. She had seemed most distressed that there was no one to do her bidding and had retired to her room.

  Some little time after, she went up to old Mr Stretton, from which interview she’d emerged, weeping. Calling Hannah, she’d ordered her to the kitchen to prepare lunch and, in the girl’s sight, she had taken Dr May’s prescription.

  After eating, Hannah had left Mrs Vyne, lying on her bed... and it was not until near four that she went up to her room again... to find Lavinia gone, her clothes, still hanging untouched in the closet,

  Hannah and the valet, who’d returned by then, had searched the house and even old Mr Stretton’s rooms. But she had disappeared. In panic, they decided to turn to Caleb...

  He sent Hannah back to the house and, taking some of the salters, began to search the buildings, his fear increasing as time passed. His mother never left Raven’s Mill accompanied, except to church; never mind alone and undressed!

  In his head, Caleb went over and over their conversation and the even earlier one with Dr May. The medical man had been right, not Caleb! He should never have assumed anything about the marriage; should have done something to stop Billy Sheridan’s flight.

  It was then he had thought of his mother’s longing look at the window and her talk of spring and snowdrops. Caleb’s heart was banging as he raced along the bank of the Salwarpe to the spot below the wooden bridge, where the fast-flowing river had divided itself into a silent pool, dammed by sticks.

  His stomach sickened as he went over the scene again and again in his mind. A shred of the old green robe his father had bought her from Birmingham was hanging from a bough. It had torn as she fell in -
or had tried to save herself by hanging on to the branch.

  But then, his horrified mind could only fix on the bundle of drifting silk, its green blackened by river water, which had jammed itself on the edge of that natural pool, frantic for the current to take it on down to the Severn and the sea.

  Inside it was the white, bloated body of his mother, Lavinia, whose troubles were at an end and who was truly free at last.

  She would not have meant to throw herself in. It was not suicide, although there were rumours of her shame and misery. Caleb had promised to take her to the spot where he had plucked the snowdrops and where, now, the primroses were already dying. Caleb blamed himself for failing her.

  He prayed on, head bowed. With his mother gone, now there was certainly nothing left for him at Raven’s Mill. If his grandfather could not forgive him before, he would not forgive him now.

  Caleb had also learned from the bank manager that, unless production kept increasing by the provision of new methods, Strettons could cease to make a profit, given the development of richer brine fields under other ownership. And he’d rashly allowed Charlie and Billy Sheridan to take off and rob him of his birthright.

  Caleb, who had always been so cautious in business, was now to blame for the company’s demise too. And all of it had come about because of his personal animosity. If he had been more like his grandfather and Charlie Sheridan, he had no doubt the Stretton fortune would have continued to increase unhindered...

  *

  Lydia made as pretty a picture in black as in anything else. Her sombre hat and veil only made her auburn hair and green eyes a more delightful contrast.

  She and her aunt stood as Lavinia Vyne’s coffin was carried towards the church door. The bearers, who included Caleb amongst them, had rested for a moment in the airy space where the four aisles of the church met in the shape of a cross.

  She had stared at the slump of Caleb’s back as they prayed and his stoically erect bearing when they sang. In fact, as the weary service continued, Lydia’s heart had gone out to him.

  When he turned at the end, she could see there were tears left his cheek. It was then she wanted to comfort Caleb. To hold him in her arms.

  It was an urgent need which made her tremble. She was thinking of it when his eyes met hers as he stooped to pick up the coffin. Her stomach fluttered at the beseeching look in those dark eyes, then sobered again as, slowly and painfully, Caleb passed her carrying Lavinia Vyne away to the Stretton family vault, where Aunt Elizabeth had said was the only place poor, silly Lavinia Vyne could ever expect to find the peace she’d been searching for all her life.

  *

  There seemed to be no end to Caleb’s troubles. Some weeks after Lavinia’s funeral, the family lawyer, Dandy, was called to his grandfather’s bedside.

  Caleb, who’d had no words with the old man since the fateful evening before his mother’s death, suspected Mr Stretton was about to embark upon some scheme from which he was to be excluded.

  His grandfather’s frailty was increasing and the whole burden of Stretton Salt Works was, as usual, heavy upon his shoulders. As he waited for the lawyer to descend the staircase, Caleb glanced cursorily at his reflection in the mirror over the mantelshelf.

  He decided he had become quite haggard over the last few weeks. And there were stray grey hairs showing amongst the dark. Feeling even more morose, he sat down on the high backed chair, its solid seat and high turned front stretcher seeming the only stable things in Caleb’s present unstable world.

  There was worse to come. He could hardly believe what Mr Dandy was telling him. His grandfather had ordered the firm to hire an agent to sell. Not Raven’s Mill, but the Works.

  “This cannot be,” he said. The lawyer looked particularly miserable. He liked Caleb Vyne and saw him as the means of keeping Dandy & Son in victuals for a good while yet. But if Stretton was sold..?

  Mr Dandy sighed. Another family firm swallowed up by the new men coming in. Upwych would be poor if Stretton became part of a mighty salt union and even poorer if Annesley shut down or joined as well.

  Whether old Stretton was of sound mind was another matter. But attorney would have to be applied for and that wouldn’t be easy, given that there were other relatives to be considered. On the run though!

  Mr Dandy, like the rest of Upwych, waited eagerly for news of the apprehension of Charlie Sheridan. A good case at the Assizes would do either a power of good to Stretton or to Annesley, both of which Dandy’s represented. But he had to admit feeling sorrow for Mr Caleb.

  “I fear it is, sir. Your grandfather has it in his head that selling out will restore his fortune, given that --” he paused choosing his words carefully, “-- he feels - only feels, mind you - that there is no one to inherit.”

  “No one!” Caleb ground his back teeth. He wasn’t going to lose his temper before Dandy. He was no church goer but the parable of the Prodigal Son was readily springing to life. Indeed, if Charlie returned and was acquitted, which would be unthinkable, then and only then would his grandfather rue the day he’d sold off Strettons.

  Caleb didn’t deserve to be treated in this way. He was finished with it all.

  “I can see I’ve put you out of temper,” interposed Mr Dandy suavely, “but, Mr Caleb, although this may be indiscreet of me and, bearing in mind, your grandfather is not one to change his mind, my advice would be to bide your time.

  “Your grandfather is a sick man. He has lost his only daughter and the young man he doted on, however unwisely. The latter has absconded and may not be found. If he is, he will be condemned. And, should your grandfather die, then you will inherit.”

  “He has not changed his will?” Mr Dandy shook his head briefly, There was no way in which he could tell Mr Caleb Vyne he had been cut out already. But Dandy knew that should old Mr Stretton die and Mr Sheridan be transported for his felonious deeds, then Mr Caleb could sue for his rights.

  It was thus best to keep on the young man’s right side.

  “Thank you for your advice,” retorted Caleb, “but, Mr Dandy, at this moment I could not care less what happened to my inheritance. If I lose the reins of Stretton, then it will fail, I tell you that, and many men with it!”

  “If my grandfather has made up his mind to sell,” he added decisively, “then so be it. But I’ll not stand by and watch. It seems the greatest portion of my boyhood and all of my manhood has been wasted looking after Stretton interests and, now, with the small amount of monies my mother left me, I shall quit England for freedom and travel abroad. That will be my decision - if I’m left destitute.”

  The lawyer laid a cool hand on the impetuous young man’s arm, thinking how much like his father he was and how similar had been the situation when Harry Vyne had come to him to beg his help in his suit for Lavinia Stretton. But, now, it was all history.

  “Have courage, Caleb,” he added, “things have an unexpected way of turning out and I, for one, would rather see you master of Stretton than anyone.”

  “Thanks, Dandy,” said Caleb. “I need good friends around me now.”

  *

  Charlie Sheridan was taken by the authorities finally in a small Irish boarding house on the edge of Bantry Bay. It was believed he was about to set sail for America but, always being a coward, he gave up without a struggle and arrived under police guard in England at the end of May.

  There had been an inquest into Sam’s death after the accident at the boring. Because there were questions remaining as to how Shrike found himself in the most dangerous position in the pit, given the scandal of his sister’s rape by Sheridan, the inquest in the Coroner’s Court was adjourned until after the criminal proceedings.

  Much of this was made in Upwych, where it was talked of copiously, and rumoured that not only would Charlie stand accused of abduction of the heiress and the rape of a female salter but also he could very well be tried for manslaughter.

  Added to this was the fact the Sheridans could both be to blame for the cutting of An
nesley brine pipes. However, Billy Sheridan had disappeared completely, having probably taken flight when his son was apprehended. Indeed, there had never been such a great criminal in Upwych than Charles Sheridan.

  All his misdemeanours, from leading hounds on to the railway line to ensnaring young ladies, were examined; no more as boyish pranks, but as evidence of his wicked and profligate nature.

  His trial at the next Assizes was something Lydia Annesley was dreading...

  Caleb’s heart went out to her as she was examined by the prosecutor. The trial had continued at a rattling place; the judge determined to see there would be no miscarriage of justice.

  There were no witnesses for the defence and my lord was delighted. Indeed, there was no one with a good word for Charlie Sheridan. He’d always been bad and bad he would remain.

  Caleb fixed his eyes on Lydia’s face as she told her dreadful story. The public gallery was packed and the horrified faces of the spectators bore witness to how everyone felt about his crime.

  The abduction of any woman was serious but that it should be the young heiress to a salt fortune seemed heinous. Aunt Elizabeth, her face set like a stone, watched in misery as Lydia recounted her ordeal, having had to be brought water several times.

  Several of the court officials, well used to felony, coughed and fanned themselves as she spoke, obviously moved by her words.

  Caleb was raging inside as he heard what his damned half-brother had done! The man was seated in the dock, head hanging down. All Caleb could think of was that his mother had been spared such horrors.

  But he, himself, was pointed out by strangers and sneered at as the half-brother of the criminal. When he had walked out of the Assize court the day before, someone had flung a stone at his carriage. And, although it missed, Caleb’s shock at being connected with his brother’s crime was utterly painful.

  And now Miss Lydia Annesley was suffering. Her pale face under the sober dark green hat and veil wore a strained expression and she looked near to fainting. She had to be supported from the witness box and taken to her seat.