Ruby Chadwick

by Ruby Chadwick (retail) (epub)

  Charles Chadwick was sitting upright against his pillows. His body might have given up on him, but the shrewdness in his watery eyes gave evidence that his brain was in no way impaired by the illness that had confined him to his bed. ‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping! Come and sit by the bed,’ he barked, patting the coverlet impatiently.

  When Bernard was once again sitting, his hands on his knees, his father gave a long sigh and then began to speak. ‘We have 14 years to catch up on, Bernard and it cannot be done in half an hour. That is as long as we’ll have before that old fool Benson comes in like a fussy old hen and orders me to rest.’

  ‘I think you’re being unjust, Father. Dr Benson is an excellent physician, and I…’

  ‘Be quiet, boy,’ Charles ordered imperiously, waving his hand at his son.

  Bernard felt his face redden, and with considerable restraint stopped himself from uttering the angry words that sprang to his lips.

  Charles Chadwick looked at his son struggling to contain his anger, and chuckled softly. ‘Oh, I know, Bernard! I know what you’re thinking, but bear with me until I’ve finished what I have to say.’

  ‘Very well, Father. I’m listening.’

  ‘Good. As I said before, we have a lot of years to fill in, but the important parts, the reasons for the lost years, I can explain in one word, “David”.’ Bernard’s mouth opened in surprise, but before he could say anything, his father had begun speaking again. ‘But first let me explain why I acted as I did on the day you came to me to tell me of your ambitions. Although I was cold to you, there was no malice in my behaviour. I acted as I did for a specific purpose. I wanted to see if my rejection of you would change your plans in any way. You see, I couldn’t be sure that you intended to stand on your own two feet or whether you hoped I would finance you towards your ultimate goal. To manage a hotel and public house, as you described, needed a great deal of enterprise and determination and, of course, money. The trust fund you inherited on your 21st birthday would have been adequate enough for the small public house you intended to buy, but for the rest, well, that would require a great deal more: intuitive business acumen, but, most important of all, strength of character. If I had offered to finance you at the start, there would have been no incentive for you to succeed, and so I set you a test. It may have seemed cruel, but I have always believed that there is no telling what a human character is capable of until it is tested. To most of us the test comes early in life. A man is confronted quite soon with the necessity to stand on his own feet, to face dangers and difficulties and find his own way of dealing with them without expecting others to shoulder his responsibilities. Whichever road it is, a man usually learns early in life just what he is made of. For your sake as well as mine, I had to act as I did.’ The voice faltered, his strength momentarily deserting him.

  Bernard sat quietly, his mind in a turmoil. Had he made this journey just to hear his father tell him what he already knew – that he was a failure? But his next words brought his head up sharply.

  ‘I’m proud of you, Bernard,’ he said, his voice softer now.

  ‘But, Father,’ Bernard stuttered, ‘I haven’t succeeded in life. I never realised the goals I set myself. I didn’t even buy the pub. Instead, I leased it from the brewery in an attempt to save some money, but it all went on fripperies. I’m still where I was 14 years ago – in a small public house, surrounded by the dregs of humanity. Oh, not all the people are dirty and lazy and most of them try to raise themselves out of the squalor in which they live, but it’s an insurmountable task, and most just give up and make the best of what they have, like I have,’ he ended miserably.

  ‘Bernard, look at me.’ The command was weak, but firm. ‘You have a home, a good wife and three healthy children. Many never achieve that particular goal. To my mind, that does not constitute failure.’ The words were cut off by a bout of coughing.

  ‘Father,’ Bernard rushed to help his father, ‘enough now, rest yourself, we will talk later.’

  ‘Wasn’t a good father, too hard on you, knocked the stuffing out of me when your mother died, didn’t mean to be cruel, didn’t mean…’

  Thoroughly alarmed now, Bernard took one last look at his father lying ashen-faced on the bed, and fled from the room in search of Dr Benson.

  * * *

  Ruby watched in silence as her father paced the floor, his footsteps muffled by the thickness of the carpet. Her eyes wandered, taking in the huge walnut desk that stood in the centre of the room and the large black leather armchairs. She hoped her grandfather wouldn’t die before she had had a chance to see him. Careful not to disturb her father, she limped over to the large cabinet that took up nearly all the main wall, which was crammed full of books. Large books, small books, thick and thin books – Ruby had never seen such a collection in one place at the same time. Carefully she extracted one of the smaller ones and read the title on the front. The sound of the door opening made her jump, so that she nearly dropped the book.

  ‘How is he, William?’ Bernard bounded across the room as Dr Benson entered.

  ‘Calm yourself, Bernard. He’s resting now. The excitement of seeing you again tired him, but there’s no need for immediate concern.’ Looking over at Ruby sitting in one of the large leather chairs that threatened to envelop her, he smiled kindly, and said, ‘What is that you’re reading, Ruby?’ As he took it from her hands, a wide smile spread across his face. ‘Well now, Voltaire’s Candide! I think perhaps you had better wait until you are a bit older before you embark on this. I myself have read it twice and still fail to comprehend it fully.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Ruby answered obediently.

  Dr Benson took the book and returned it to its rightful place, and then pulled on a thick tasselled rope that hung down on the side of the cabinet. ‘Would you like to sit in the kitchen with Mary, Ruby? I’m sure she’d like the opportunity to talk with someone near her own age.’

  Ruby looked to Bernard for guidance, and when the answer was given as an impatient nod, she stood up slowly, taking the weight on her good leg. There was a discreet knock on the door before it was opened slowly to reveal the young maid who had admitted them to the house.

  ‘Ah Mary,’ Dr Benson boomed heartily. ‘Take Miss Ruby into the kitchen and ask Cook to give her something nice to eat.’

  Upon hearing herself addressed as ‘Miss’, Ruby’s small body swelled with importance and with a tentative smile at Bernard, she limped from the room saying, ‘Thank you, Doctor, for looking at my leg.’

  When the door had closed behind them, Dr Benson’s face assumed a look of grave concern, and turning to Bernard, he said gruffly, ‘You’d better sit down.’

  ‘What is it? Is it something about my father you couldn’t tell me in Ruby’s presence, and what did he mean when he said David was responsible for the rift between us?’ Bernard was now seated in the chair Ruby had just vacated. He was trying hard to control his impatience with Dr Benson, and wished he would sit down and finish the conversation his father had started. If there were any secrets to be told, the man standing in front of him would know the answers.

  ‘David?’ Dr Benson said, looking puzzled for a moment. ‘Ah, yes. David.’

  Walking to the chair opposite Bernard, he sat down, carefully adjusting the coat-tails of his morning suit. He was in no hurry to impart the bad news he would eventually have to tell Bernard: for the moment he had a reprieve. Making himself more comfortable, he said, ‘To put it bluntly, Bernard, your younger brother has tried to do you out of your rightful inheritance. No, hear me out,’ he added hastily as Bernard made to speak. ‘This won’t take long, and there are more important things that I have to speak to you about.’ Leaning back in the chair, he continued, ‘You remember when your first son was born and you sent an invitation to your father and David to attend the christening?’ Bernard nodded, wondering where this was leading to. Dr Benson went on, ‘Well, your father never received it, neither did he receive any of the letters your wife wrote
to him in an attempt to end the estrangement between you.’

  Unable to contain himself any longer, Bernard leaned forward. ‘Daisy wrote to my father? When? How often?’

  ‘A great number of times, I believe, but like the invitation, your father never received them. They were carefully intercepted and destroyed, just as the letters your father wrote to you were never sent. It was in David’s best interests to keep the feud between you and your father going, but he wasn’t quite clever enough.’

  Dr Benson paused for a moment, then, seeing he had Bernard’s full attention, he leaned back in the armchair. ‘Ten days ago I had an unexpected visitor. The housemaid who was in service here before Mary came to see me at my home. It seems that she and David had been on, shall we say for propriety’s sake, friendly terms for some time. He persuaded her to intercept any letters addressed to your father. She was quite willing to do anything he asked without question, for the silly girl actually believed David would marry her some day. Then your father’s condition worsened and it was at that point that David made his first mistake. He told the girl their relationship was over, adding that he would soon be the heir to his father’s home and business and, as such, would be expected to maintain a certain standing in the community. In plain terms, she was no longer of any use to him. When the girl refused to accept the situation and threatened to tell your father what had been occurring, David immediately dismissed her. At the same time, he warned her to keep her mouth shut, adding that nobody would believe the word of a servant against that of a gentleman.’ Here Dr Benson paused in his narration to utter a scornful ‘Huh!’ ‘Well, Bernard, that seems to sum up the whole sorry business. Like many a man before him, David made the mistake of underestimating a woman scorned. It is fortunate for you that the girl wasn’t so easily intimidated.’

  He looked at Bernard sitting in the leather chair opposite, and wondered what was going through his mind. He had received a tremendous shock, but what he would be forced to tell him next would make the last half-hour pale into insignificance. He fervently hoped that Bernard had inherited some of his father’s strength to fortify him against the terrible blow that was about to descend.

  ‘Does David know his deception has been found out?’ The words were spoken quietly, but the anger beneath the calm tone was unmistakable.

  Dr Benson looked at Bernard, his keen glance taking in the silent battle that was being fought beneath the calm facade. He could sense the anger of betrayal, but also the elation at the knowledge that his father had not deserted him. He jumped as Bernard sprang from his chair.

  ‘The swine! The miserable conniving swine! Does he know the game’s up? I asked you. Answer me, man.’

  ‘No, Bernard, no. He suspects something’s wrong,’ Dr Benson stuttered, ‘or else he would never have sent that letter even at my insistence. He feels safe in the knowledge that he is named as sole beneficiary in your father’s will. What he doesn’t know is that your father changed his will as soon as I informed him of what David had done.’ He broke off as Bernard headed for the door, his face like thunder. Rising swiftly, he called out desperately, ‘Bernard, please! David can wait. I must speak to you on a matter of grave importance, please.’ The plea in Dr Benson’s voice stopped Bernard in his tracks. Turning slowly from the door, he said in a voice as cold as ice, ‘What could be more important than wringing that miserable bastard’s neck?’

  Dr Benson swallowed twice, then, taking his courage in both hands, he replied, ‘Your daughter’s life.’

  The words hung heavily in the air as the two men stared at each other. Bernard was the first to speak. ‘Ruby?’ he whispered. ‘Ruby’s life in danger?’ His voice held an incredulous note. Then shaking his head, he said more firmly, ‘What are you talking about, man? Ruby is in excellent health. Why, she’s never had a day’s illness in her life.’ He began to walk towards Dr Benson, his hands held out, palms upward.

  ‘Please, Bernard? This is very difficult for me. Won’t you sit down and let me explain?’

  With an impatient shake of his head, Bernard strode swiftly to the armchair, his mind in a whirl. ‘The man’s in his dotage,’ he thought angrily. ‘He should have retired years ago. He can’t possibly be allowed to tend to Father any longer.’ He had recovered from the initial shock at the doctor’s words, and had already dismissed them from his mind. He was eager to leave the room and tackle David, but the doctor was old and deserved some respect. He would hear him out and humour him. David could wait a little longer. He leaned back more comfortably, an indulgent smile on his lips, but as he looked into the kindly intelligent eyes he felt a qualm of doubt as he waited to hear what Dr Benson had to say.

  The old man sat down slowly, trying to formulate in his mind the words that would soften the blow, but there were none. Taking a deep breath, he said quietly, ‘I took the liberty of examining Ruby’s leg while you were with your father. I believe Ruby has a condition called osteomyelitis.’ Here he paused for a moment to wipe his brow with a large white handkerchief, then plunged swiftly on. ‘There is evidence of severe bruising to the knee joint. In plain language, the bruise is eating away at the bone, and unless immediate surgery is carried out to stop the spread of the disease, it could poison her entire body.’

  The indulgent smile had vanished from Bernard’s lips. He felt the sweat break out on his face and his heart beat painfully. Running his tongue over his dry lips, he struggled to speak. ‘What kind of surgery are you talking about?’

  As the messengers of ancient Rome must have feared and dreaded their inevitable task, so did Dr Benson feel now, but he did not shirk his duty. ‘Amputation.’ He watched in pity as Bernard’s eyes stretched in horror and made to go to his side to offer what little comfort he could, but before he could rise from his chair, Bernard waved him back.

  ‘No, leave me,’ he shouted fiercely. ‘I don’t want your sympathy! I want you to tell me you may be mistaken. How can you be so sure? You’re not a surgeon.’

  Bernard’s voice had risen in anger, but Dr Benson was not afraid. He had seen this reaction of rage and bewilderment so many times. He waited patiently for Bernard’s tirade to abate and then answered, his voice compassionate and weary. ‘I’m truly sorry, Bernard, but I know what I’m talking about. I was stationed in a medical field hospital during the Crimean War and I’ve seen too many cases to be mistaken.’

  ‘It can’t be true! She only slightly bruised her leg. Surely there must be an alternative?’

  Bernard’s distress made Dr Benson bow his head in the face of such abject misery. The truth was that Ruby’s life was in no immediate danger unless blood poisoning had already set in, but if he told Bernard that, he would never agree to the operation. In the meantime, the infection would steadily spread, causing bacteria to build up in the wound until the very stench of the festering wound would drive the unlucky victim into the arms of the nearest surgeon. It was in times such as these that he felt, like so many of his colleagues, the inadequacy of his profession. There was something badly wrong when the only solution to problems of this kind was the drastic step of amputation and mutilation. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he spoke briskly. Loath as he was to add to Bernard’s pain, there were plans to be made. The sooner Ruby was admitted to hospital, the better.

  ‘I think you should call Ruby from the kitchen, and I shall come with you to Guy’s. That is, if you are agreeable? I know an excellent surgeon there who will do everything in his power to make Ruby as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure there is no chance her leg can be saved, no cure to be obtained? I’m clutching at straws here, William. Please help me?’ The look on the doctor’s face was an answer in itself. Shaken to the core, Bernard threw his hands up and began to rock back and forth. Presently he dropped his hands and asked quietly, ‘How am I going to tell Ruby? I mean, how do you tell a ten-year-old child she has to have her leg taken away? Can you answer me that, William?’

  ‘She mustn’t be told; not yet. W
ait until she is settled into hospital, and then we shall discuss the best way to break the news.’

  ‘Wait?’ Bernard was on his feet, his face dark with anger. ‘Wait until before or after the operation? She’s a bright child. I think she’ll notice something’s wrong when she wakes up and finds her leg missing!’

  Neither man heard the door open as a scared-looking Ruby entered, followed closely by Mary, the housemaid. Ruby looked at her father’s strained face and then at the nice doctor who seemed to be perspiring heavily, his ruddy cheeks glistening with sweat. The atmosphere in the room was heavily charged with a tension she couldn’t identify.

  Suddenly aware of her presence, Bernard swung round. In two long strides he was across the room, his hands firmly on her shoulders as he demanded fearfully, ‘How long have you been standing there, girl? Answer me – what have you heard?’ His hands increased their pressure; he was oblivious of Ruby’s gasp of pain as his fingers bit cruelly into her flesh.

  ‘Please, Father, you’re hurting me! Let me go – please…’ The last word came out on a sob.

  As if he’d been stung, Bernard dropped his hands, only immediately to envelop Ruby in his arms in the first real cuddle he had ever given her. Gently he led her over to the armchair, his arms still wrapped round her shivering body. When they were both seated, with Ruby on his lap, her face buried in his neck, Bernard raised his eyes to Dr Benson, the appeal in them stronger than any words.

  Motioning the wide-eyed Mary from the room, Dr Benson seated himself once more, but before he could speak, Ruby raised her head from Bernard’s neck. Her eyes bright with unshed tears, she looked her father full in the face, and said tremulously, ‘It isn’t true is it, Father? You won’t let them cut my leg off, will you?’