‘My darling, darling sister,’ she said sympathetically. She cupped Lizzie’s face in her hands. ‘Are you eating properly, my love? You look thinner. You mustn’t let yourself get sick. I remember I stopped eating after Rory died. It doesn’t change anything, my darling. It doesn’t do any good.’
Lizzie nodded. ‘At least you had the rest of your life before you. I know now my chances of having someone like Justin in my life again are nil. We were so happy together. Our love for each other was divine. That’s never going to happen again now that I’m forty.’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her voice was husky.
Laura spoke with care. ‘I know exactly what you mean, darling, but you will get over it. One can get over anything with time. You have a wealth of happy memories and that’s something a lot of people will never experience. Do the girls know what’s happened?’
Lizzie shook her head as she wiped her eyes. ‘Humphrey has told them I’ve got very bad flu and that they mustn’t come near me in case they catch it. The doctor has given me some pills but they’re not working.’ A sob caught in her throat.
‘I don’t think pills are the answer,’ Laura said firmly. ‘When I go back to Scotland why don’t you come with me and you could stay with Mama? I know she’d love to have you and what you need is walks in the fresh air and to be with family. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Let’s talk it over with Humphrey this evening. You need to get away from London and have a real break, away from places that remind you of Justin.’
At that moment there was a knock on the bedroom door.
‘Who is it?’ Lizzie asked anxiously.
‘I have a breakfast tray for Lady Laura, milady,’ the maid replied.
‘Oh that’s all right. Come in.’ Lizzie pulled herself together. ‘Haven’t you had breakfast, Laura?’ ‘No.’
‘Didn’t you come on first class? They usually do a wonderful breakfast.’
Laura waited until the maid had left the room before answering. ‘We can’t all afford to travel first class, Lizzie. And we certainly can’t all afford to wallow in sorrow with our armies of servants to do everything for us, you know.’
Lizzie looked sheepish. ‘You think I’m spoilt?’
Laura sipped her tea. ‘You are married to a rare gem of a man, who adores you unconditionally, with four beautiful daughters who do you credit, and a beautiful house full of servants to do your bidding – and you wonder if you’re spoilt? I don’t have to think too long about that one, Lizzie.’
There was a long pause. ‘I’ve hurt Humphrey, haven’t I?’
‘Massively. But he still loves you and would do anything to make you happy.’
‘I’m glad the girls don’t know about the affair,’ Lizzie said in a small voice. ‘They’d think less of me, wouldn’t they?’
‘It would be very destabilizing, I’m sure. They think of you as such a saint.’
The flickers of a smile hovered around Lizzie’s mouth. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a bath and get dressed.’
‘Good idea,’ Laura replied. And, although she was suffering from lack of sleep, she added, ‘Why don’t we go for a brisk walk in Kensington Gardens? It’s a lovely day and we could take some bread to feed the birds in the Round Pond.’
An hour later they set off with a paper bag full of crusts, and to Laura’s delight, Lizzie was much calmer and stopped crying. She’d never get over Justin’s death, but in time she would become resigned to it, along with thousands of other women who had lost their husbands and sons, their fiancés, boyfriends and cousins. This was the bloodiest war the world had ever known and when it finally ended there would be a generation of widows and spinsters.
Six
Dalkeith House, October 1919
Rowena led the way into the breakfast room where the parlour maid had laid the table, as well as placing silver entrée dishes on the sideboard offering scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and grilled tomatoes.
‘Is Dada coming down for breakfast?’ Caroline asked.
‘He’ll be down in a minute,’ her aunt replied.
Walter needed looking after these days and she still resented Laura for wanting a separation when he’d begged her to take him back. ‘I could help you both financially at least to start with,’ Rowena had told Laura.
‘Thank you but I’m perfectly capable of earning enough to keep Caroline and I, and anyway, I don’t trust Walter when it comes to drink. He swears he’ll never touch another drop but we all know how little his word counts for.’
Laura came down the stairs at that moment and entered the breakfast room saying, ‘Good morning,’ to her sister-in-law. ‘It looks as if it’s going to be a lovely day,’ she added brightly. What else was there to say? Her relationship with Rowena had always been excruciatingly stilted and polite.
‘Yes, but I think it will rain this afternoon,’ Rowena replied stiffly, helping herself to scrambled eggs and coffee. Then she sat down at the breakfast table. At that moment Walter appeared, followed by Caroline who had gone to see where he was.
‘My darling pet waited on the stairs for me,’ he remarked, giving Caroline a tender look. She turned to cast a triumphant smile as if to say to Laura that her dada still adored her.
Laura ignored the look as she calmly helped herself to scrambled eggs and tea.
Walter smiled. ‘Come and sit beside me, Caroline.’
There was a glint in her eyes that told everyone that her father loved her and she loved him more than anyone in the whole wide world. Caroline was sure his first wife would have stayed with him, unlike Muzzie, who could be cruel. Neil, her poor stepbrother, had gone to live with his late mother’s parents. In her mind’s eye, Caroline had painted a picture of happy families, like all her cousins had. If only it were true. Life could have been so different. Now, Dada was deprived of both his son and his daughter. She remembered Rowena speaking in whispered undertones some time ago with undisguised venom, telling everyone how selfish Laura had been.
‘Poor Walter,’ Rowena had said at the time. ‘How could Laura have left him in his hour of need?’
Laura was aware that Caroline was purposely appearing to be more light-hearted than usual, in order to show her mother how happy she was to be with her father. Laura smiled serenely but Caroline continued, ‘Dada says he’s going to take me shopping this morning,’ she announced. ‘He’s going to buy me a special present.’ Her tone was smug.
Laura knew this routine well and it usually ended up costing her several shillings.
‘How kind of Dada,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘I wish I could donate a few pence to your shopping spree but I didn’t bring any cash with me. Just our railway tickets.’
Walter flushed uncomfortably. ‘You don’t have to give any money,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve got enough.’
Caroline looked from her mother to her father. ‘When I’m the most famous ballerina in the world, I’ll be making hundreds of pounds and I’ll give you all the money you need, Dada,’ she said and she smiled superciliously, as if she had a bad smell under her nose.
Walter’s flush deepened. ‘No, darling, you must keep your money for yourself.’
But Caroline was determined to make her mother feel bad. ‘No, you need it, Dada. Look how worn out your suit is! You need new clothes. Muzzie ought to buy you a new suit. She’s making lots of money and she could easily afford it.’
Laura’s mouth tightened but she knew this game well; Caroline always played it when she visited her father.
‘What have I told you, Caroline?’ Laura’s tone was sharp. ‘It’s very vulgar to discuss money in this way. It’s something we don’t talk about.’
‘Your mother’s absolutely right,’ Walter said firmly, but he was smiling with amusement.
‘No, she isn’t!’ Caroline’s voice rose. ‘She makes tons of money and she’s being mean! She should buy you a new suit.’ Then she rose from her chair, flung her napkin down upon the breakfast table and str
ode out of the room. They heard her stomp up the stairs and finally slam her bedroom door.
Rowena looked pained. ‘The trouble is that she sees so little of her father. It seems a pity to have a contretemps when she is staying here.’
‘Laura is right though,’ Walter confirmed. ‘Caroline must be taught how to behave.’
‘She’s just overexcited at seeing you, Walter,’ Rowena insisted.
‘Rudeness is rudeness,’ he said firmly. ‘I think you are a wonderful mother, Laura. I won’t talk about taking her shopping again. I don’t want to undermine you.’
Laura smiled at him. ‘Thank you. She only does it to provoke me, and that isn’t fair on either of us.’
‘I know, my dear, and I spoil her dreadfully.’ He sighed slightly. ‘How are her ballet classes going?’
‘I have to say, Madame Espinosa is thrilled. She wants Caroline to go professional next year. She’s going to introduce her to the right people to see if she can perform in the theatre.’
Walter’s face lit up and he clapped his hands. ‘That’s marvellous! Oh, I always knew she’d be successful.’
‘She’s already a prima donna,’ Rowena observed drily.
Edinburgh, November 1919
Caroline came bounding into the flat as Laura put the finishing touches to a deep purple chiffon ball gown she was making for one of her customers.
‘Have you finished my new tutu?’ were Caroline’s first words to her mother when she returned home from her ballet class.
Laura nodded and pointed to the ballet dress that was on a hanger on the back of the workroom door. It was a white satin bodice with slender shoulder straps, exquisitely shaped, with the layers of white tulle that formed the short tutu around the hips falling delicately in the traditional style. It had taken Laura hours to make, when she should have been working on dresses for her customers, which meant that she’d now have to work late into the night.
Caroline had a one-track mind and everything had to be about her. She never thought about thanking her mother. She was going to be the next Anna Pavlova, wasn’t she? One day she’d be the star of Swan Lake, rich and famous, with a dressing room full of glorious flowers from admiring fans. Handsome young men would wait for her to emerge from the stage door every night and there’d be a chauffeur-driven car waiting to take her back to her beautiful house.
‘What’s for supper, Muzzie?’ she asked, happy with her daydream.
‘Your favourite – stuffed marrow.’
‘Again?’
‘You know you love it and it’s cheap and nourishing. I can get a vegetable marrow for tuppence, and a large onion and a pound of minced beef only cost a few more pence.’ Laura had taught herself to cook and the results were so good that Diana had laughingly said if dressmaking failed she could always open a restaurant instead.
Caroline had no interest whatsoever. ‘How shall I know when the water’s boiling?’ she’d asked once when shown how to cook a boiled egg.
‘Tomorrow Madame Espinosa is taking me to an audition,’ she said excitedly.
Laura looked up from her stitching in delight. ‘That’s wonderful, darling. What’s it for? A new ballet?’
‘It’s for a solo turn as a butterfly in a new production of Puss in Boots at the Theatre Royal.’
‘Here in Edinburgh?’
‘No, in Timbuktu,’ Caroline scoffed. ‘Of course it’s here. Although I imagine if it’s a success it might be put on in London.’ Her face was radiant and her dark eyes, so like her father’s, sparkled with happiness. At last, her dreams had begun to come true. If she got the part she might have made the first step to performing at Covent Garden Opera House, just like Anna Pavlova.
The next morning she set off with her new tutu and her least-worn ballet shoes in high spirits. Her teacher, who had herself been a prima ballerina some thirty years ago, had told her to wear her ordinary practise leotard, but Caroline was desperate to impress. With her long dark hair coiled into a smooth glossy chignon she bounced off down the street, leaving her mother in a state of nerves. She’d worked day and night for years to allow Caroline to have this chance and she dreaded to think of her daughter’s disappointment if she didn’t get this small but telling chance to show what she could do.
Laura was certain that once Caroline started climbing the ladder of success she’d be a much happier person. She was sure her daughter’s mean and nasty streak was caused by frustration. Once she had the career she craved, Laura was convinced Caroline would feel less of a need to lash out at the people around her.
When the telephone rang shortly before noon the next day Laura hurried to answer it, thinking it was Caroline letting her know how her audition had gone.
‘Laura, is that you?’ asked the tearful voice of Beattie.
Laura’s heart quickened with fear. It was an automatic response after four years of war, when the sound of a ringing phone or the arrival of a telegram could signify the death of a beloved. Georgie’s husband, Shane, had lost a leg, and of course Lizzie’s lover had been killed.
‘Is it Andrew?’ she asked without thinking.
There was a stunned silence. ‘How did you know?’ Beattie sounded angry now.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do the rest of the family know about the affair too?’
‘What?’ Laura was confused for a moment. ‘I thought you were telephoning me to say that something awful had happened to him.’
Andrew had never been her favourite brother-in-law because he was so boastful. He’d inherited his father’s printing works which he now ran, making huge profits, spending lavishly to show just how rich he was. He also boasted that his wife was ‘Lady’ Beatrice, the daughter of the late Earl of Rothbury. Sometimes he would mournfully add that he should have bought the family seat, Lochlee Castle. The sisters used to joke among themselves that he was ‘in trade’, and that the happiest day of his life was when, upon his marriage to Beattie, his name became listed in Burke’s Peerage.
‘How do you know he’s having an affair?’ Laura asked.
‘I found a receipt for a fur wrap in his dressing room. It was hidden under his little case of evening studs. What shall I do?’ Beattie asked brokenly. ‘I nearly died of shock when I found it.’
‘Are you sure he hasn’t bought a fur for you? It could be a surprise present? Have you got an anniversary coming up?’
‘That’s what I thought at first, but I’ve looked everywhere and there’s no sign of a fur wrap. Anyway, he gave me a sable coat for my birthday three months ago. I’m so scared, Laura. I never expected anything like this. Do I walk out or am I supposed to turn a blind eye and pretend I’ve never found this receipt?’
‘Are you by any chance pregnant again? You know how he lavishes expensive presents on you when there’s another baby on the way,’ Laura asked thoughtfully, remembering the diamond and emerald necklace when their first child had been born.
There was a long pause before Beattie replied. ‘No. I’m not pregnant. I can’t be because we haven’t been … you know. He’s been sleeping in his dressing room.’ Her voice broke and she struggled to go on. ‘He says he has to get up early, and, and … he doesn’t want to disturb me.’ She choked on her tears. ‘At first I thought he was being con-con-considerate. And now …’
Laura’s heart sank. ‘Is there a date on this receipt?’
‘Yes. March the twelfth. Eight months ago.’
‘How long have you been sleeping apart?’ Laura asked, dreading the answer.
Again, a long pause before Beattie answered. ‘Just after Christmas. He’s expanding the business and he warned me I’d see less of him for a few months. That’s true. He leaves at dawn and doesn’t get home until late.’
Laura recognized the desperation in her sister’s voice. It was obvious that Beattie was trying to persuade herself that everything was all right in her marriage.
‘Do you think I can win him back?’ Beattie asked. ‘What are the children going to say?’
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Henry had just turned fifteen and the two youngest, Kathleen and Camilla, were eight and seven years old. Beattie was aware that if she and Andrew parted it would shatter them. If only for the children’s sake she must preserve her marriage, no matter that Andrew was breaking her heart. Her voice was steady now. ‘I’ve got to get through this as best as I can, haven’t I? I must make my marriage work somehow.’
‘That’s right,’ Laura agreed. ‘If I was in your shoes I’d try to forget you ever found that wretched receipt and I’d organize several big and rather grand dinner parties. I’d make sure all the guests were titled; you know how Andrew would adore that. You must butter him up by telling him how popular he is and how they’ll invite him to go shooting with them. He’ll think he’s gone to heaven and that you’re an angel.’
‘You mean that I should make his home life so exciting and diverting that he’ll want to stay with me?’
Laura could detect the reluctance in her voice, but she spoke firmly. ‘Be honest, Beattie. I think you married him for his money and he married you because you’ve got a title.’
There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Laura feared for a moment that she’d spoken too freely. But then Beattie spoke resignedly, ‘It’s true. I suppose you’re right. But my God, Laura, that’s not what’s making me stay. It’s my babies. I won’t let them be hurt by their father’s folly.’
Laura remained silent. She knew how difficult Caroline had become, simply because Laura refused to live with Walter because he was a bankrupt alcoholic. ‘You’re right,’ she told her sister. ‘You can’t let it affect the children’s lives. Let me know how you get on, Beattie.’
‘Oh, I will. And thank you for the advice, Laura. You don’t know what it means.’
Laura was still thinking about Beattie when Caroline came hurtling in to the workroom, her face radiant with happiness. She shouted, ‘I’ve got it! I got the part of the butterfly and we start rehearsing on Monday!’
Laura sprang to her feet and flung her arms around her daughter. All their hopes and dreams were becoming reality. All the years of hard slog as a dressmaker and Caroline’s unstinting ballet practise were bearing fruit and how wonderfully rewarding it was now.
The Fairbairn Fortunes Page 5