The Fairbairn Fortunes

by Una-Mary Parker

  Rowena surprised herself as her eyes began to sting with emotion. At that moment she felt an acute pang of pity for the brother who had lost his wife and children and beautiful home because of his alcoholism. His son, Neil, had been a troubled child after his mother had died, and he’d resented Laura and kept setting fire to the house. For the past few years his mother’s parents had looked after him. Laura had left Walter after he’d gone bankrupt and he only saw Caroline, whom he adored, occasionally. Unable to work any more, he’d have ended up in the poorhouse if she hadn’t taken pity on him and said he could live with her.

  ‘Listen to this,’ Walter was saying as he picked up a cutting. ‘It says, “Caroline Harvey delighted the audience with her debut as a ballerina.” This other one says: “A true star was born on the first night of Puss in Boots when Caroline Harvey received a standing ovation for her exquisite precision and gracefulness. Her solo performance of a butterfly caught in a storm thrilled the audience … She moves with poetic grace.” Isn’t that absolutely splendid?’

  ‘Very good,’ Rowena agreed. But then added gently: ‘I wonder how she’d do if she ever got the chance to perform at Covent Garden in London? We’re in the provinces here and the local reviewers are very easily pleased.’

  Walter looked deeply offended. ‘You never did like ballet, did you? Or opera. Madame Espinosa wouldn’t have trained Caroline if she thought she was not going to make it.’

  Rowena shrugged. ‘Laura paid her well. In fact, most of what she earned as a dressmaker went to pay Madame Espinosa. I have always thought it was a mistake to encourage Caroline to go on the stage. It’s the most precarious way of making a living. She ought to have been trained for a proper job in case she doesn’t marry well.’

  Walter looked at her with the expression of a wounded dog. ‘For goodness’ sake, she’s just a young girl! Give her a chance! No doubt she’ll marry whether she’s a dancer or not. Laura and I think she’s got a brilliant future either way.’

  ‘She’s no longer a child, Walter. I was almost a bride at her age,’ Rowena replied tartly. ‘I don’t think it’s right to let a young woman presume she’s one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It’s a real burden for her to have to live up to all this expectation. She’ll is terribly disappointed if she finds herself in pantomimes year after year.’

  Walter placed the cuttings carefully between the pages of the scrapbook without saying a word, then marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The Theatre Royal, two months later

  Groaning in pain, Caroline sank on to the bed in her dressing room and, bending down, untied the ribbons around her ankles. Then, slowly and carefully, she withdrew first one foot and then the other out of her white satin pointe shoes.

  ‘Oh …’ she whimpered. ‘Look at my poor feet!’

  Laura, who was sitting in the corner, looked sympathetic. ‘Take off your tights and I’ll wash them.’

  ‘Look at all the blood!’ Caroline gave a self-pitying little sob. ‘My toes are in agony. I need to bathe them in warm water … I need iodine …’ She leaned back, pulling the wreath of artificial flowers from her head.

  There was a tap on the door and a stagehand opened it without waiting and, rushing in, thrust a bouquet of pink carnations in her direction. ‘It says Mademoiselle Zeni on the label,’ he scoffed. ‘If you’re French then I’m the King of England.’ He shot off again, chuckling to himself, ‘Who the hell does she think she is, the snobbish cow?’

  Laura raised her eyebrows and spoke. ‘I told you it was a mistake to give yourself a stage name. And a foreign one at that!’

  ‘But Madame Espinosa said I’d get much further with a French name and she should know.’ Dabbing her toes with warm water, Caroline said sulkily, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about! This is my career and I’ll do what I want.’

  Her mother replied spiritedly, ‘You seem to have forgotten I had to earn the money to pay for all your ballet classes for over ten years. For goodness’ sake, I chaperone you home every night when you finish here. I know what people are saying about you. You’ve let a few good reviews go to your head. You’re not Anna Pavlova yet.’

  ‘People are just jealous of me,’ Caroline said shrilly.

  At that moment there was another tap on the door. ‘It’ll be more flowers,’ she jeered boastingly.

  Instead an elderly gentleman wearing a military uniform entered the room. ‘Dada!’ she shrieked, jumping to her feet, her painful toes forgotten. She reached up and flung her arms around his neck.

  ‘That was the best performance you’ve given yet, my darling,’ he declared as he gave her a beaming smile. ‘You were magnificent. And now look your poor toes, my little sweetheart.’

  Watching them, Laura felt a pang of jealousy at their devotion to each other.

  ‘Dada!’ Caroline repeated, her face alight with joy at his presence. ‘Muzzie is objecting to my stage name but you think it will help my career, don’t you?’

  Walter smiled at Laura. ‘I think your mother is right. You are already known as Caroline Harvey, so why change it? I agree that Leighton-Harvey would be a mouthful. To me Mademoiselle Zeni smacks of a Cabaret dancer in a Paris nightclub,’ he added firmly. ‘I agree with your mother. To change your name would be mad, not to mention dishonest. We don’t have a drop of French blood in our veins.’

  Caroline stepped back and flung herself on to her chair. ‘Neither of you know anything about the theatre,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve got to get an agent …’

  Laura looked up in surprise. ‘I thought Madame Espinosa was advising you.’

  ‘She’s my teacher and mentor. What I need, as soon as this show closes, is a professional agent who will promote me and get me work.’

  Laura turned pale. ‘How much will that cost?’

  Caroline tossed her head and cast her eyes up. ‘For goodness’ sake, all you think about is money. You don’t pay an agent anything. They deduct a percentage of what I get paid. You see?’

  ‘There’s no need to be rude to your mother.’ Walter looked shaken by her hostility. Why was Caroline behaving like this when she had the world at her feet? ‘I expect you’re very tired,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll slip away now so you can go home and get some sleep.’ As he turned to leave Laura went up to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. He’d looked so disappointed at Caroline’s rudeness that she felt sorry for him.

  ‘She’s absolutely exhausted, but thank you for coming to tonight’s performance.’

  He smiled. ‘I had hoped to take you both out for a bite to eat … but maybe another time would be better.’

  She nodded, afraid to speak, as a wave of pity for the man she’d once been in love with overwhelmed her.

  Eight

  London, 1920

  Beattie looked drained of energy as she lay back on the sofa in her large and beautiful drawing room in their Belgravia mansion. When Andrew had married her he’d insisted that when Lochlee castle was sold he would look after as many of the Fairbairn family portraits as possible, many of which had been painted by renowned artists. At the time, Lady Rothbury was grateful because she didn’t have the space for them at the manse, but Laura had scoffed and declared her brother-in-law only wanted them because: ‘He thinks it will give him a touch of class. Why,’ she added, ‘don’t you give him some of the crested silver and be done with it?’

  As Beattie gazed around the room, she knew Laura had been right. ‘I was bought, wasn’t I?’ Beattie observed in a quiet voice.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Lizzie asked. They’d had lunch in the opulent dining room, waited on by Briggs, the butler, so the conversation had to be impersonal and general in front of the staff. Now on their own, they could talk freely.

  ‘Andrew married me for my background and title and I was stupid enough to think he loved me.’

  ‘If that had been the case, Beattie, he wouldn’t be leaving you now. I think he did love you but in the end found he couldn’t keep up with
you. In spite of his money I think he’s rather insecure. Do you remember when we all went to Scotland to stay with Di how he bragged about having first-class tickets for the train, and then three cars to meet you all at the station? Robert could hardly keep a straight face.’

  ‘That’s typical of Andrew. I’m sure things between us might have been better if I’d had another son. He was furious when our third baby turned out to be another girl. You’d have thought I’d done it on purpose to spite him!’

  ‘It would serve him right if this woman has twin girls,’ Laura said angrily. ‘Do the children know what’s happening? They must have realized something’s up.’

  Beattie shook her head. ‘Andrew doesn’t want a scandal any more than I do, so he’s still living here, but of course he sleeps in his dressing room.’

  ‘What about the servants? Are you sure they’re not going to gossip?’

  ‘They’d be deaf and blind if they didn’t know we are splitting up, but Andrew pays them over the odds so I think they want to keep their jobs.’

  ‘If you get on the right side of the staff and pay them well they’re very loyal. They must have guessed when I was having an affair, and when Justin was killed they were extraordinarily tactful. Nobody asked for a moment why I might be spending weeks on end in bed, sending my meals downstairs untouched.’

  ‘And Humphrey? How was he?’ Beattie enquired. ‘I’m now in the position he was in seven years ago.’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘He pretended nothing was amiss. He slept in his dressing room for months, saying he had to get up at dawn because of work at the War Office. It was as if Justin had never existed. It was months before we got back to normal – whatever normal is.’

  ‘Poor you. That was the saddest situation and you’ve been very brave. I wish I were like you and Laura. You’re so strong and resilient.’

  ‘So are you, dearest. Facing adversity is what makes you strong and you’re being very brave.’

  To her surprise, Andrew didn’t come back that night. Beattie lay awake, imagining him staying with Beryl Cooper, making love and planning their future together with their new baby. In her head she painted a picture of deep affection and harmony as they planned their life together. She recalled how it had been when Kathleen was born. Andrew had been very tender and loving, telling her again and again how proud he was of her. The memory brought tears to her eyes and she wished with all her heart their marriage had lasted. What had gone so wrong? Why had he fallen in love with his secretary? In the early hours she fell into a fitful sleep and then, suddenly, a door slamming shut awakened her. There was someone in Andrew’s dressing room and they were opening and shutting drawers noisily.

  ‘Is that you, Andrew?’ she shouted in alarm. There was a sudden dead silence.

  Beattie jumped out of bed and flung open the door. Andrew had his back to her and he was leaning against a chest of drawers, his head bowed. He was wearing one of his white shirts and as he raised his hands to cover his face Beattie saw his cuffs were covered with blood.

  ‘Andrew? What’s happened?’ Her voice was shrill with terror. ‘Have you been in an accident?’

  He shook his head slowly and she realized he was crying. Deep sobs were being wrenched from his chest and he wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘Has someone attacked you?’ she persisted, a part of her fearful that he’d got into trouble and another part of her wanting to comfort him.

  ‘She started haemorrhaging,’ he blurted out. ‘The baby wasn’t due for another three months and she started bleeding. I called an ambulance but there was nothing I could do to save him.’ He broke down completely and she couldn’t make out what he was saying but the one word that lingered in the air was ‘him’. So Beryl Cooper had lost the treasured second son that Andrew so wanted. Filled with a rush of pity, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Andrew. To lose a child is always tragic.’

  ‘There won’t be another one either,’ he replied, looking up at her. ‘Beryl died too. They did everything they could but it was no good. They couldn’t save her.’ His face was ravaged by grief and a painful stab of jealousy shot through her. Would he have felt grief like this if she’d died in childbirth? She imagined not. Her mother would say that this tragedy was God’s punishment for the way he had treated his wife.

  Beattie, practical as always, said in a calm voice, ‘Take off that shirt, Andrew. I’ll soak it in cold water to remove the stains. There’s no point in letting the servants know what has happened.’

  Like an obedient child, he took it off and she carried it to the adjoining bathroom where she held the cuffs under running water. Her head was in a whirl and she’d no idea what the future held now. At last, the stains were gone and she draped the shirt over the radiator. Tomorrow she’d tell the chambermaid that her husband had spilled red wine down his front. On her way back to her own room she looked into Andrew’s dressing room. He was lying on his side and he was fast asleep.

  Beattie no longer knew how she felt towards him. Affection? Hope that they might now grow closer again? Or was it just pity?

  The Manse, 1920

  Catriona’s hands trembled as she reached for the telephone that stood on a table in the hall of her mother’s house. Having to make this call was something she’d always known was inevitable but had hoped wouldn’t happen for several years.

  ‘Is that you, Laura?’ she asked when she got through.

  ‘Yes. Is that you, Catriona? How are you?’

  ‘I’m all right but I’m afraid that Mama is ill. Very ill. I think you should come. The doctor has been twice and he says her heart is the problem,’ she added shakily.

  There was a moment’s silence before Laura spoke. ‘Has she had a heart attack?’

  ‘Not exactly. Last night she had what I thought was an asthma attack. She seemed to have difficulty in breathing and she could hardly speak, so I called the doctor right away. He said her heart wasn’t pumping properly. Cardio asthma, I think he called it. It’s heart failure in other words because she’s old. I’m so frightened, Laura. Can you come? I don’t think I can do this on my own.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come, darling, and I’ll let the others know. Aren’t Alice and Flora with you? They only live a few minutes away.’

  There was a painful pause. ‘We don’t really get on that well,’ Catriona explained haltingly. ‘They call me Mama’s pet and they think I’m wasting my life by staying at home with her. Alice said she’d come over this evening and Flora asked me to keep her informed on the telephone.’

  ‘Thank God you are at home with Mama. She might have died if you hadn’t been there to call the doctor. Darling, don’t let the others bully you. Your life is your own and you can do what you like with it. I’ll arrange for a friend to keep an eye on Caroline and I’ll be with you by this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, Laura, thank you. You’ve no idea how grateful I am. The doctor said Mama must have complete rest to give her heart time to recover but you know what she’s like. I think she walked the dogs too far yesterday.’ Catriona sank into a nearby chair, weak with relief. Only Laura understood her devotion to their mother. She also liked living in the manse, although it was a dismal house, nothing like Lochlee Castle.

  Upstairs in the four-poster bed with its heavy pink brocade drapes, Margaret Rothbury lay, pale-faced and weak, propped up by snowy white pillows. The doctor had insisted it was better for her heart to stay upright rather than lie down. She loved this bed, and had insisted on taking it with her when they’d left the castle. In this very bed she had lost her virginity after her marriage to William, the 6th Earl of Rothbury, and over the years she’d given birth to nine daughters and two sons lying in this exact spot. The first heir, Freddie, had brought nothing but disgrace to the family, eventually dying in a Parisian brothel after years of debauchery. Then Henry, the next heir in line, who was adored by everyone, was killed in the Boer War.

  As she languished in the bed, her mind drifted back to the past, remembering the tragedies that had bef
allen the family. Little Eleanor’s death in an extraordinary accident as she tried to get rid of the curse planted on the Fairbairn family was perhaps the worst. She could never forgive the jealous, illegitimate son of her husband who had cursed the entire family when told he could never inherit the family title.

  Wife, mother and grandmother; she’d fulfilled her role from the beginning with a strong sense of forbearance. Even when she found she’d married a man who loved his horses and dogs more than his wife and children. Even when her son killed the stable lad in suspicious circumstances. She knew she had done her duty, and for the first time she felt ready to meet her Maker, unafraid and with no regrets. There was only one thing she fretted about now. Months ago she’d made a new will which had rather shocked her lawyer. He’d asked her why she’d changed it so dramatically. After explaining her reasons, she’d had the feeling that he understood her point of view. Nevertheless, there were certainly still moments when she wondered if she’d made the right decision.

  Laura arrived later in the afternoon to be greeted by Catriona.

  ‘I don’t want Mama to think everyone has come to say goodbye to her,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Her heart is very weak but it doesn’t mean she’s going to die in the next few hours, so tell her you are staying for a few days’ rest or you’re on a trip buying some fabrics for clients.’

  Laura looked doubtful. ‘Mama is not easily fooled,’ she pointed out. ‘Anyhow, there’s no need to be so pessimistic. She might get over this and, with rest, live for another few years.’

  Catriona’s face lit up with hope. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Let’s talk to the doctor and see what he thinks. When is he coming back?’

  ‘At seven o’clock this evening.’

  Laura took off her hat. ‘Let’s go up and see Mama now. She’s always been a very strong person and maybe this is just a sign she ought to take things more easily. She is seventy-six.’