‘Shall I serve breakfast, sir, or will you be helping yourself?’ Benson’s voice cut into his thoughts.
Harry glanced over to where the elderly man was standing patiently by the sideboard, the surface of which was covered in silver trays and platters, and said gaily, ‘I think I’ll be pampered today, Benson. Just put a bit of everything on a plate – I’ve suddenly found I’m ravenous.’
When the laden plate of kidneys, bacon, sausages and scrambled eggs was placed before him he picked up his napkin saying, ‘Am I the first one down today? The house seems extraordinarily quiet for a Saturday morning.’
‘Your father and Master Hugh left over an hour ago, sir, I believe they have some business to attend to in the City. Your mother and Mistress Bella have yet to come down. Will that be all, sir?’
‘What? Oh yes, thank you, Benson. I’ll ring if I need you.’
Left alone he quickly devoured his meal, then made his way to the study. Sitting down in a black-leather winged chair he read through the letter once more, then picked up the deeds to the houses he had become the owner of. Again he felt a surge of satisfaction run through his body. No more would he have to keep his friendship with the people of the East End a secret, and it was all thanks to Bella.
Ever since the night she had confronted him with her knowledge of his activities she had used it as a weapon against him. Never openly saying anything, she had preferred instead to drop sly hints and innuendos whenever the family were gathered for a meal. It had taken all of his strength and endurance to refuse to rise to the bait, and continue to ignore her veiled remarks. He wasn’t and never had been afraid of his father’s wrath, but had been concerned that his relationship with his new-found friends might in some way injure his father professionally. And of course there had been his mother to consider. Although Harry was sure of her full support in whatever he chose to do with his life, her influential lady-friends might not be so tolerant of his activities, and so he had held his tongue until the night of Bella’s birthday.
Bella had refused her mother’s offer to hold a celebration, probably due to the fact that she had so few friends she could have invited, and instead had settled for a special dinner. The evening had progressed pleasantly enough, and then the sly remarks had begun to fly. Having almost consumed an entire bottle of port, Bella had become more and more voluble, her eyes challenging him to retaliate while the rest of the family had looked on in bewilderment. Unable to tolerate any more he had stood up and out of courtesy to his mother had asked permission to leave the table pleading a headache. He had been halfway across the room when Bella, her voice almost screeching with spite, had asked him if he was intending to sneak out to meet his latest slut. It had been the final straw. Striding back to where she sat, a gloating look on her flushed face, he had stared down into those glittering, black eyes until she had been forced to drop her gaze. Turning to where his father was now standing at the head of the table, he had told him everything, from his first excursion into the East End to his present-day friendship with Maggie. He had of course omitted the encounter that had led to their first meeting, saying only that she was a very dear friend, and one that he intended to keep on seeing despite her humble origins. The room had fallen deathly quiet, and Harry, already regretting his rash outburst, had let his eyes sweep the room. Bella had sat looking as if she’d been slapped in the face, while his mother, bless her, despite her ashen face had remained calm, her quiet dignity acting as a balm upon the heavy atmosphere. Rising to her feet she had dismissed the goggle-eyed servants and ordered Bella to her room. When the red-faced, indignant woman had started to protest, the men had watched in amazement as the normally placid Beatrice Stewart had forcibly grabbed her daughter’s arm and pushed her from the room. The moment the women had left, Hugh had tried to follow them, only to be ordered back to his seat by the formidable Edward Stewart. Obeying his father’s command, the hapless figure had slumped back in his chair, his face a picture of misery and embarrassment. Harry too, had experienced a strong desire to flee, but the presence of the stoutly built man had held him rooted to the spot.
Looking into those steely black eyes, Harry had seen not his father, but Judge Stewart, and like the thousands who had stood before this impressive man he had felt a shudder of apprehension run through his body. Steeling himself for the backlash he had brought upon himself, Harry waited for his father to speak. When he did, the shock at what Harry heard was so great he had to put out his hand to grab the back of the nearest chair to stop himself from falling.
For instead of the strong reprimand he had been expecting, his father had said quietly, ‘If you really intend to help the people of the East End, then do something constructive. Friendship is all very well in its place, but these people need more than an occasional guinea and a sympathetic ear. If you are sincere in your wish to help them, then do something constructive. I for one can think of nothing better than to provide decent accommodation for the poor wretches, most of them live in conditions unfit for animals, let alone human beings.
‘And the landlords fleece the poor beggars for every penny they can get out of them. So put your money where it will do the most good, into property. I’ll help you all I can. I have contacts, and I’ll start asking around first thing Monday morning. Now, let’s open another bottle of port, I don’t know about you two, but I could do with a bloody drink.’
It had taken all of Harry’s willpower to stop himself from running across the room and throwing his arms around the stout figure. His father had been as good as his word, as the letter and deeds he held in his hand proved. The property in question comprised a row of three-storey houses, six in all, with a total of nine rooms per house. He had been shown around the houses by the former owner, a grasping, odious little man, and had been appalled by the stench and dilapidation of the interior of the once grand houses. But he, Harry Stewart, was going to change all that. His first priority would be to have all the houses fumigated and the vermin-infested furniture thrown onto a bonfire. Then he intended to have all the rooms whitewashed and linoleum fitted throughout. He also intended to furnish the rooms with good, sturdy furniture and decent second-hand beds. He didn’t want his good work undone by somebody bringing in their own flea-ridden possessions and run the risk of the vermin spreading throughout the rest of the houses. Then there was the task of installing plumbing and indoor water closets to be dealt with. Oh, he had plans, so many plans he could feel his head begin to reel at the task he had undertaken, but he would succeed, of that he had no doubts whatsoever.
He put the letter and deeds back into the envelope and then into the inside pocket of his grey jacket, a slow grin spreading across his face. He walked out into the hall, and taking the staircase steps two at a time, he knocked on Bella’s door and without waiting for an answer burst into the room.
Bella was sitting up in bed, a silver tray containing the remnants of her breakfast across her knees, her eyes widening at the unexpected appearance of her brother. Her black hair above the heavily cream laden face was encased with curling rags, and Harry taking in the scene could barely repress a shudder. Lord, what a sight to be greeted with first thing in the morning.
‘Really, Harry, what do you mean by bursting into my bedroom unannounced?’ Bella cried indignantly. ‘I might have been in a state of undress.’
Grimacing at the thought, Harry smiled broadly and said, ‘Why, it’s very considerate of you to consider my feelings, Bella, but you needn’t concern yourself, I have a strong stomach, and besides, I’ve already eaten.’
‘Why you…’
‘Now, now, Bella, I haven’t come for an argument. On the contrary, I’ve
come to thank you.’
Bella’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she waited for Harry to continue.
Still smiling, he took the envelope from his pocket and waved it in front of her face, saying, ‘These are the deeds I’ve been waiting for. I am now the proud owner of six houses, houses I intend to renovate to l
et to those people you so pompously look down your nose at. And when I’ve finished, I intend to buy more, and more. Who knows but that I may end up running an empire, and it’s all thanks to you, Bella, dear.’ Suddenly the smile slipped from his face, and his voice sombre now, he said softly, ‘You couldn’t stop yourself, could you? You couldn’t rest until you’d brought me down, but you underestimated Father, you imagined he was as big a snob as you are. Well, maybe we were both guilty of that assumption, for if I had had more faith in him I would never have let you torment me for so long. But it’s finished now, you no longer have any power over me. My life from now on will be an open book, so I ask you, let me get on with it and have done with these childish arguments, if only for the sake of Mother. You know how upset she gets at the antagonism that exists between us. What do you say, Bella?’
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ She was glaring at him, the muscles on her face working furiously. ‘But I’ll see my day with you, Harry. You’ve ridiculed and humiliated me all our lives, and now you’ve got what you want you expect me to forgive and forget: never, do you hear me, never. I’ll find a way yet to wipe that stupid smile off your face, and when I do it will be permanently.’ Her voice was rising, and fearful his mother would hear the commotion, Harry backed from the room shaking his head sorrowfully.
In spite of her rantings, Bella had been right when she’d said he’d always found fault with her. Maybe if he’d been a bit more understanding… No, that attitude would have done no good, she would simply have taken advantage of any kindness shown to her, like she did with Hugh. There could never be any harmony between the two of them, so maybe it was time to leave this house and find a place of his own. Again he shook his head. His mother would be deeply hurt if he announced his decision to leave. If he were leaving to get married, that would be different, but what reason could he give other than he couldn’t stand the sight of his own sister? Then there was Hugh. How could he leave his younger brother to the mercies of that vindictive harridan upstairs? Without him acting as a buffer, Bella would latch onto Hugh even tighter, controlling and perhaps eventually ruining his life. Sighing deeply he walked slowly down the stairway, his mind thoughtful.
Thinking of Hugh had awoken another painful subject. Why had he ever asked him to accompany him on his Saturday visits to the park? Had he subconsciously wanted to punish his brother by bringing him face to face with the girl he had raped so long ago? If so, it had been a fruitless exercise, for neither had recognised the other, and as the months had passed he had noticed a growing attraction between the two people he cared most about. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all. By the time he had realised how fond of Maggie Hugh was becoming, it was too late. Now he tried to discourage
Hugh from accompanying him on his weekly visits, but without much success. Still, he wouldn’t be able to make it today, so he, Harry would have Maggie all to himself. His face brightening, he ran down the remainder of the stairs, and donning his long, heavy coat and gloves he left the house.
Bella watched from her window as the tall figure sauntered down the road, his long legs eating up the pavement until he disappeared from view. Letting the curtain drop she walked slowly back to her bed. So, he thought he’d bested her, did he? Well, she still had a trick up her sleeve, namely the unknown little slut he and Hugh had become so friendly with. Oh, she’d seen them, laughing and talking as if they hadn’t a care in the world. They hadn’t seen her of course, she’d made sure of that. Picking up a piece of toast from the tray she began to chew the hard bread, a cruel smile playing about her lips. Yes indeed, there was more than one way to skin a cat, and that common little guttersnipe might be just the tool she was looking for.
* * *
Harry alighted from a hansom cab and hurried towards the park, his face falling at the sight of a nanny and her charge sitting in Maggie’s customary spot. Taking out his pocket watch he looked at the large gold hands that were pointing to one o’clock, then held it to his ear to make sure it hadn’t stopped. The familiar soft ticking assuring him he wasn’t late, he let his eyes sweep the long row of benches before transferring his gaze towards the park. Despite the coldness of the day the square was bustling with activity. Men and women from all walks of life strolled arm in arm, the brightness of the gentry’s clothing contrasting sharply with the drab dullness of the working classes’ garb as they mingled together on the dry, brittle grass. The air was filled with the sound of mothers and nannies calling out to their children, and the children themselves whooping with laughter as they played their games of football and leapfrog, studiously ignoring their mothers’ warnings to ‘be careful’. Harry watched the scenes with amusement, remembering days gone by when he and Hugh had played the same games and listened unheedingly to the same warnings.
The sound of a woman’s footsteps approaching caused his head to swivel round, the smile on his lips dying when he saw it wasn’t Maggie. Taking his watch once more from his pocket he saw that the time was now fifteen minutes past one, and felt a gnawing feeling of anxiety begin to grow. What if she wasn’t coming? No, that was ridiculous. She would have sent word if she’d been unable to keep their appointment. But what if she were ill? Surely if that was the case, she would send Charlie to let him know. He began to pace up and down the pavement, his face furrowed in thought. He didn’t even know where she lived except that it was somewhere in Whitechapel. Gripping the handle of his walking cane, he strode towards an empty bench and sat down heavily. There was nothing he could do except wait, even if he had to sit here all afternoon, and if she didn’t come today then he would go to the market on Monday and enquire among the stallholders as to her whereabouts. Feeling easier in his mind he relaxed his body against the hard bench and settled down to wait. In an effort to dispel his anxiety he let his mind drift to other matters and found himself thinking once more of Hugh. Was it wrong of him to try and stop what was for Hugh the one bright spot of the week? It had been foolhardy of him to bring them together in the first place, for if ever either of them discovered the reason behind his action the consequences would be unthinkable. And if he were to be honest, he had to admit that he was jealous of the friendship that had developed so quickly between them. Any further thoughts were interrupted by Maggie’s arrival.
Looking harrassed and out of breath she flopped down beside him on the bench saying, ‘I’m sorry I’m late, I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.’
Harry looked at the heart-shaped face framed by a band of brown fur on the dark green bonnet and felt his heart begin to race. Without the presence of Hugh maybe now would be the time to pose the question that had been nagging at his mind since the first time he’d met her. But before he could utter a word she launched into the events of that morning in an effort to explain why she had been late.
She finished with, ‘And to cap it all, when she did show up two hours later all smiles and bursting with apologies for leaving me to run the stall, she had the cheek to bring “him” with her, when she knew he was the last person I’d want to see today. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the smarmy sod grabbed hold of me and kissed me, knowing full well I wouldn’t make a scene in front of the other stallholders. Ugh, it makes me feel sick just thinking about it.’
Harry stared at her in concern. ‘But this is outrageous. You can’t seriously be thinking of sharing a house with a man who so clearly has designs on you – you’ll have to find somewhere else to live. Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to…’
But Maggie wasn’t listening. Now that she was here she was anxious to hand over the last payment and leave. There was no use in prolonging the moment, and the way she was feeling right now she couldn’t trust herself not to break down and cry. Above all else, she wanted to hang onto her dignity. The absence of Hugh had come as a great relief, for it meant that she could have these last precious moments alone with Harry. Oh, she had grown very fond of Hugh – she had even wondered last night if she could be in love with him – but now, sitting
so close to the craggy-faced man who had changed her life she realised that the thought of never seeing Harry again was unbearable. A moment of panic assailed her, beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she thought for a frantic moment she would slide off the bench into a heap at his feet. Her hand trembling, she took the small envelope from her bag and held it out to him.
‘Well, here it is, the last payment, and I know I’ve said it a dozen times before, but thank you once again. I don’t know what would have become of us if I hadn’t met you that night. Now I really must be off, Charlie’s waiting for me at the cafe – I thought we’d eat in the warm today.’
She could feel the tears begin to gather, and quickly held out her hand.
‘Goodbye Harry. Please give my regards to Hugh, and if you ever need any second-hand clothing, you know where to find me.’ The attempt at humour was wasted on Harry, who was staring at her in bewilderment.
‘Wha… what are you talking about?’ he cried hoarsely. ‘You’re talking as if we’re never going to see each other again.’
Avoiding his gaze she rose unsteadily to her feet, and in a voice near to breaking she whispered, ‘It’s the best way, Harry. Nothing can ever come of our meetings. We come from different worlds, and if we continue meeting I’m going to end up getting hurt, and I’ve had enough pain in my life.’
‘Maggie, Maggie, you can’t go like this. The thought of never seeing you again is unbearable, I simply can’t imagine life without you. You must know how very dear you are to me.’ Suddenly conscious that they were in a public place he took hold of her arm and, finding little resistance, led her further into the park until they were standing alone under an oak tree, their bodies almost concealed by the large trunk.
A Handful of Sovereigns Page 16