A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Oh, I do, Father,’ replied William, beginning to feel a little better already.

  His culpability, the wrong that he felt, deep down, that he had done to Bella, was to remain with him for a while. But gradually the memories of her began to recede to the back of his mind, and he started to pick up the threads of his former friendships and social life again. By the time he married Clara in the summer of 1885 he was looking back on the brief time he had spent with Bella – if he ever thought of it at all – as a hazy recollection of something that had happened, long ago, to a young and immature lad. He had become a far different person in the intervening years. He knew exactly what he wanted from life; a satisfying job – he already had that – and a blissful marriage to his beloved Clara. His main desire was to make her happy; to be a faithful and loving husband to her and never, never to let her down. He still could not believe his great fortune in having found such a lovely young woman who was all in all to him.

  They were both thrilled when they discovered that Clara was expecting a child. The baby was due in the July of 1886, almost exactly a year after their marriage. William was on top of the world. Not only was he married to the most wonderful woman in the world, she was soon to give birth to his child. He was hoping for a boy, although he had not admitted it to Clara. But all men wanted a son, didn’t they?

  His head was full of plans and dreams for the future as he walked down Eastborough one afternoon in early May. He had just passed the Market Hall when his wandering thoughts were brought to a halt by the sound of a – once – familiar voice.

  ‘Hello there…William Moon. What a surprise, eh?’

  He blinked, staring around him in bewilderment, then he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the young woman on the other side of the road. She was already crossing over towards him, hurrying her footsteps a little in front of an approaching hansom cab. It was Bella, Bella…Randall; he had almost forgotten her surname. He had, in fact, tried, and almost succeeded, in forgetting her existence. After all it had been five – no, nearly six, he reckoned up quickly – six years since she had disappeared so abruptly.

  ‘Bella…’ he gasped. ‘Yes; it is a surprise. I didn’t know… How long…?’ He had no idea what sort of expression was showing on his face. Surprise, shock…horror? He hoped not. The least she deserved was for him to acknowledge her and to show some sort of pleasure at seeing her. But she was taking her time in answering his incomplete question. He tried to move his lips in a smile although his face felt frozen.

  ‘You look…well,’ he said, because it was no less than the truth. She did look well. A little slimmer than she had used to be, he thought, and there was something else different about her too. She was smarter, much more well groomed than the rather blowsy young woman he remembered. She was wearing a trim-fitting jacket and skirt in a shade of mid-green, with a high-necked white blouse and a neat little straw hat.

  ‘Very well indeed,’ he went on. ‘So…what brings you here then?’ He was fearful as to what sort of tirade she might let fly at him. The old Bella would not have hesitated to do so, but she was looking at him quizzically, half smiling, and the glint in her eyes was a humorous, not a malevolent one.

  ‘What brings me here?’ she repeated. ‘Oh, this and that. As a matter of fact, I’m working here.’

  He felt a stab of fear, although he tried not to let it show on his face. Then she was not here just for a visit, as a holidaymaker, as her attire might have suggested. ‘You mean…? You’re not working…at the harbour, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She laughed. ‘That’s a thing of the past I’m glad to say.’ There was something different about her speech too. She sounded…not exactly refined, but she had certainly lost much of the broadness of her native accent. And she had not called him ‘bonny lad’ once. ‘No, I’m working over there.’ She pointed along the street. ‘At Boyce’s store, but it’s my half day. I’m after something better, but it’ll do for now. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, so it was any port in a storm, you might say. As a matter of fact, Will, I was going to look you up. I’ve been asking around and I know you’re still on North Marine Road, still in the same line of business.’

  His heart gave a jolt then. What else had she heard, he wondered? Did she know he was now married and very happily so? If not, he must make sure that she did know and without delay. What a mercy he had met her before she had come to look him up. ‘Yes, we’re still there,’ he replied. ‘But… I’m married now,’ he added hurriedly. ‘My wife’s called Clara. We got married last year.’

  ‘Oh…oh, I see.’ Bella looked at him steadily, her glance more serious and more calculating now, he thought. ‘Well, that puts a different complexion on things, doesn’t it? Well, it does and it doesn’t…’ she deliberated. ‘Actually, there’s something I want you to do for me, Will.’

  He stared at her stolidly, not answering. Then, ‘What?’ he managed to ask, at last.

  ‘I’m after a different job. A more…select sort of job, you might say, and one that pays a bit more. There’s a job going at the top of Westborough where all the posh shops are. It’s at a high-class ladies’ gown shop. I’ve been there now to enquire about it, and I think Madame – Madame Grenville, she calls herself – I think she was impressed with me; I can put on the style when I want to, you know. But she wants a reference, somebody to say I’m trustworthy and honest an’ all that.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think you could do that for me, couldn’t you, Will? Write and say that I’ve been a friend of the family for – how many years is it? – six years by my reckoning.’

  He fingered around his collar which was beginning to feel rather tight, and he could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. ‘Look, Bella… I’ll have to think about it,’ he said, although he knew he owed her something for their shared past; and she still had not made any reference to what had gone on between them, or about the baby.

  ‘I shouldn’t hesitate too long if I were you, lad,’ she said, with just a shade of menace and a slight reversal to the rougher tones she had once used. ‘You don’t want to lose your good reputation in this town, do you? And that nice little wife of yours… I really wouldn’t enjoy spoiling things for you, Will.’

  ‘All right then,’ he said at once, glancing around anxiously. Somebody he knew might have seen him already, talking to a strange woman in what was the busiest part of the town. ‘I’ll meet you…tonight if you like. I can’t talk to you anymore now but I’ll meet you later. I promise I’ll be there… Where are you staying, by the way?’

  ‘I’ve a couple of rooms on Queen Street. Quite clean and comfortable; they’ll do for now. Will…’ She was looking at him less threateningly now. ‘I don’t want to cause trouble for you, but I do need a leg-up, a chance to get meself started again.’

  He sighed. ‘Very well; I’ll see what I can do. I’ll put in a good word for you, if you’re sure that’s all it needs.’

  They arranged to meet later that same evening at a secluded part of the lower promenade, just south of the Spa buildings. William felt he was unlikely to see anyone he knew in that area. He hated deceiving his beloved Clara – he told her he was meeting some of his pals for a drink, something he did from time to time – but he could not see that there was any point in telling her, now, of his past indiscretions. Neither should there be any need to tell her anything in the future, if Bella could be persuaded to keep her silence in exchange for his promise to help her.

  They leant on the sea wall, looking out across the North Sea, as they had done many times before but in a different spot, listening to the crash of the waves as the incoming tide pounded against the rocks below them.

  ‘I’ve written this for you,’ said William, handing her an envelope. ‘I’ve not sealed it, so you are at liberty to read it. I’ve said that you are an honest and God-fearing woman and that my family has been acquainted with yours for several years. I do, in fact, know Mrs Green – Madame Grenville, as she calls herself. We b
uried her father a couple of years ago. But may I ask you, please, not to contact me again, Bella? I am sorry about what happened between us…but it seems as though you have not done too badly for yourself since then.’

  ‘I’ve done all right,’ she replied briefly. ‘I’m ready for a change, though, an’ I’ve got a soft spot for Scarborough, in spite of everything.’ William knew he must find out something of what had happened to her in the meantime, particularly about the child she had been expecting, but he was unsure how to broach the subject.

  She looked directly into his eyes, and as though she could read his thoughts she said, without preamble, ‘I had the baby adopted. It was a girl. I called her Henrietta, after my mother.’

  ‘Oh…oh, I see. That must have been a wrench for you, giving her up.’ He looked at her, feeling sorrow – as well as a good deal of relief – but she was staring out to sea, unaware of his sympathetic glance.

  ‘It was for the best.’ She gave a shrug. ‘I had no choice at the time, the way things were. It was a case of needs must.’

  ‘And do you know where…? I mean, are you in touch with…?’

  ‘With the child? I’m not supposed to be. She’s five years old now, five last month… I try not to think about it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said William, feeling a tug at his heartstrings. He was, after all, partly to blame for this whole sorry situation. ‘But you are still a young woman, and a very attractive one…’

  ‘An’ you think that makes up for losing my first-born, do you? Aye, maybe I’ll get wed one o’ these fine days, but that can’t alter the past, can it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, although he knew it was a futile thing to say.

  ‘Then don’t be, lad.’ Bella gave a wry half-smile. ‘I was hard on you at the time, I know that, and I was just as much to blame as you were. You were only a bit of a lad, weren’t you, hardly into long trousers? An’ I should have known that if I played wi’ fire I’d get burnt. Anyroad, I made out…without your help. I soon found out who my friends were.’

  ‘You weren’t on your own then? Did you go back to your father and your family?’

  ‘Not on your life! But I’ve told you, I managed. And you’re asking too many questions. I’ve said as much as I’m saying.’ They looked at one another in silence for several seconds. Then, ‘Thanks for this, Will,’ she said, putting the envelope into her handbag. ‘That wipes the slate clean, doesn’t it? I promise I won’t be bothering you again…not unless I have to,’ she added, giving an eloquent nod. ‘Now, you’d best trot off back home, hadn’t you? Back to that little wife of yours. Just leave me here. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen together. I’ll stay and look at the waves for a while; it’s very soothing, watching the sea… Cheerio, Will. I’m glad we’ve met up again.’

  ‘Goodbye, Bella,’ he replied, raising his hand in farewell as he walked away from her.

  He did not say, as she had done, that he was glad they had met. He would be glad – more than that, he would be thankful from the bottom of his heart, and full of praise for the God he hoped was looking after him – if he knew that this unfortunate little episode in his life was now at an end. He would be a good deal happier, certainly, if Bella were not in Scarborough. It was not a large town – not compared with York or Leeds, for instance – and it was not unlikely that his and Bella’s paths would cross from time to time, quite unintentionally. Her words about not bothering him again, ‘unless I have to’, had given him a moment’s disquiet. He thought about them as he made his way back, walking briskly over the Spa Bridge then up past the Grand Hotel and through the town to his home; home to his adoring wife who would be waiting for him.

  He would have to trust Bella to keep her word, and hope that she would keep to her part of the town as well. ‘Madam Grenville’, the exclusive gown shop owned by Maud Green was a good distance from their own premises. William had passed by it several times, but only half noticing the stylish garments on display in the windows. This part of the town was becoming the fashionable area in which to shop. Several of the small shops – jewellers, hosiers and milliners, as well as cabinetmakers, upholsterers and furniture salesmen – had expanded to larger sites in Westborough, as the centre of trade moved further west towards the railway station. William Rowntree’s great department store and house furnishers dominated the scene, its plate-glass windows glowing with hundreds of the new electric incandescent lamps.

  As far as William knew, his wife still bought her clothing from the small shop on Eastborough at the other end of the town; the dressmaker’s shop owned by Louisa Montague where Clara had worked until her marriage. No doubt she wandered up to the other end of the long High Street now and again, as all ladies did. He recalled how he and Clara had window-shopped there from time to time, admiring the deep-piled carpets, the rich damask and velvet curtain materials, mahogany tables, cabriole-legged chairs and button-backed Chesterfield sofas. And then they had gone back home, more than contented with the comfortable, if a little shabby, premises that they shared with his parents.

  Clara greeted him with a warm kiss, after rising rather laboriously from her chair at the fireside. Seven months into her pregnancy, she was much less active than she would wish to be, but she insisted on going into the kitchen and making tea for them all: his mother and father as well as the two of them. How lucky he was, he thought again, seeing the contentment on the faces of all his dear family, and the deep affection in the eyes of his lovely wife. He felt more determined than ever that nothing was going to spoil this perfect marriage.

  Chapter Eight

  Bella was disappointed that William Moon had married, but wasn’t it only what she might have expected? she asked herself. A personable young man such as he would be sure to be snapped up by the first girl to take his fancy; the first suitable girl, of course. The way he had rejected her so abruptly on discovering she was pregnant had rankled with her for a long time. She had been growing very fond of him; she had even thought she might be falling in love with him. Then, to be dropped like a hot potato at hearing what, if he had any sense at all he might have realised could be a possible result of their intimacy…well, it had shaken her faith in him. She had believed he was different from the fellows she had known before.

  Had she really imagined, though, that he would marry her? And had she, in fact, led him on in the hope that she would fall for a child and thus force the issue? Bella herself was not sure of the answer to that. All she had known at the time was that she was enjoying his company and the developing ardour between the two of them, and what had seemed like his admiration, touching almost on adoration at times. Her hurt had been so great that she had known she could not stay in the same town as him. She had known she could cause trouble for him if she wished to do so, but despite her anger her better nature had prevailed. He was only a lad, whereas she, Bella, although only the same age as him in years, was far older in experience and understanding of the ways of the world.

  Now, though, he had become a man; she had noticed the difference in him straight away. And the glimmer of hope that had always remained with her was kindled anew as she spoke with him on Eastborough. Maybe, now that she too was changed, now she had taught herself to dress more respectably and to speak and behave in a more dignified manner, maybe he might be persuaded to resume his friendship with her.

  But her hopes had been dashed almost at once by the news that he was married. She had been determined, though, not to let him see that she was fazed by this. She had pressed on with her request that he would help her to procure the job she was seeking – that had been her intention anyway – but she had been unable to resist throwing out a faintly malicious hint that she might need his help again…sometime.

  What sort of a girl had he married? she wondered. A sweet and biddable miss who would do as she was told? Not that she could imagine William would be a domineering sort of husband, the archetype of the Victorian male, ruling the roost in the home and having his wif
e and children obey him in all things. Maybe, she pondered, when all was said and done Will Moon would not have been her, Bella’s, type of man at all… It could be that she needed someone more forceful who would give her a run for her money, someone she could stand up to and give as good as she got. At all events there was no point in hankering over what she couldn’t have; but she would keep her eyes and ears open and try to find out what she could about William’s wife; Clara, he had called her. Clara Moon… She must be careful, though, not to appear too inquisitive.

  As she had hoped, Madame Grenville agreed that she would take her on for a trial period as sales assistant, then, if she proved suitable she would be given the position on a permanent basis. Bella was determined that she would make good. The reference from William Moon had impressed Madame. She clearly regarded the Moon family as being of some importance in the town, but Bella was relieved that she didn’t enquire too closely into how well or how long she had known them. She had worked as a sales assistant, though never in quite such a prestigious salon, during the years she had spent in Northumberland after her hasty retreat from Scarborough. But Madame Grenville seemed satisfied with the one reference regarding Bella’s character and reliability and did not ask for further credentials from previous employers. Bella was glad about that too. She had returned to the town to make a fresh start; and although things had not turned out entirely as she might have wished, she was determined to put the last six years behind her and to begin again.

  She soon discovered that her employer had more of the ‘Maud Green’ about her than the ‘Madame Grenville’. Obviously she was not short of ‘a bit of brass’, as Yorkshire folk termed it, but her pretensions regarding her position in society were only skin deep. She was, in fact, quite ordinary and came from a humble background. Her father had been a fisherman and the family had lived in one of the little cottages near to where Bella had lodged during her time as a herring girl. Her airs and graces and pseudo-refined accent had been acquired and improved upon since she took a step up in the world, as Bella, being of the same ilk, was quick to realise; it took one to know one. As the women came to know one another more closely they realised they were two of a kind. They both had their eye, ultimately, on the main chance.