A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘But you wouldn’t say no to a change…?’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows. The thought had already entered her head, in fact it had been lingering at the back of her mind even before Ralph came back to the shop. And she had no doubt that the same thought was in his mind now. But she was loath to be disloyal to Maud who had been so good to her.

  ‘I think you know,’ he replied. His deep-set eyes looked into hers with an intensity that disturbed her, even though she knew she was attracted to him; and he to her. ‘How would you feel about coming to work here, as manageress of the shop, I mean?’

  ‘But…you don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.’

  ‘I know enough to feel that you would be ideal for the position,’ he replied, now in a much more matter-of-fact manner. ‘And the upstairs rooms are vacant. I have leased the whole property, and I will be looking for someone who could live here as well as manage the shop.’

  That, indeed, was most appealing, and she felt like saying yes there and then. Instead, ‘It’s too soon, Ralph,’ she said with a show of reticence. ‘We hardly know one another. Besides, what would Madame Grenville say? It wouldn’t be very loyal of me.’

  ‘All’s fair in love and war…and in business too, I believe,’ he replied. ‘But I do see what you mean.’ He nodded seriously. ‘You and I do not know one another very well. But I hope to remedy that very soon. Would you come out with me, shall we say…tomorrow evening, Bella? I thought we could dine at the small hotel where I am staying; it is on St Nicholas Cliff. Then we could go to a concert at the Spa. What do you say?’

  She answered the question that was not only on his lips but in his ardent grey eyes as well. ‘Yes, I would like that very much,’ she replied. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

  When she had been out with him a couple of times, to a concert as he had suggested, and then another evening to the Theatre Royal on St Thomas Street, Bella knew it was time she found out more about his marital status. He had behaved most circumspectly, taking her arm as they walked along the street and escorting her back to her lodgings at the end of the evening, his farewell to her just a light kiss on her cheek. But his admiration was there in his eyes, with an ardour not very far below the surface.

  She broached the subject at their next meeting, which was on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of March. Ralph had arrived soon after midday on the train from York and now, after listening to a brass band concert at the Spa Pavilion they were strolling back towards the hotel on St Nicholas Cliff. They would partake of ‘high tea’, the meal which was always served on a Sunday at the quite modest establishment where Ralph stayed on his frequent visits to Scarborough. He had already mentioned his daughter, whom he intended to leave, quite soon, in complete charge of his shop in York, so that provided her with a suitable opening.

  ‘Your daughter…’ she began. ‘She sounds to be a very capable young woman. Does she look after your home as well, Ralph, while you are away?’ At the moment he was spending at least two nights each week in the seaside resort, and this time he had come early, he said, in order to get to grips early in the week with some of the jobs that were in progress in Huntriss Row, and to keep the workmen on their toes. He was silent for a moment, then he stepped aside, leaning on the railings of the Spa Bridge. Bella joined him there, looking out across the sea.

  ‘Yes, as you say, Bella…’ He put his hand on top of her gloved one as it lay on the railing. ‘Rosalind is a very capable girl. She has needed to be for the last…’ He shook his head. ‘…goodness knows how many years. My wife…’ She felt the pressure of his hand increase, as his eyes met hers in a look full of apology and sadness. ‘Yes, I have a wife… I am sorry, my dear. I know I may have given the impression that I was a widower. Maybe that was what I intended you to think; I don’t know…’ He shook his head again in a bewildered manner.

  ‘But believe me, I might just as well be a widower,’ he continued, his voice betraying more than a touch of bitterness. ‘My wife has been an invalid ever since Rosalind was born. She took to her bed then and has scarcely left it since.’

  ‘Oh, I see…’ Bella was at a loss as to how she should react. Should she be angry that he had misled her? But no, he had not actually said that his wife was dead, and she had heard of women, of the upper and middle classes, who took delight in being ill and confined to bed, sometimes when there was, in fact, very little the matter with them. Maybe Ralph’s wife was one of these; a malingerer, or she might, of course, be really ill.

  ‘What…what’s the matter with her?’ she asked. ‘What does the doctor say? The doctor visits her, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh yes, once a week at least.’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘He dances attendance on her, just like Rosalind does. Rosalind loves her mother, though. There is a bond between them and I suppose I can understand that. They were very close when Rosie was little, she and Prudence…that’s my wife. Maybe I shouldn’t judge her too harshly. I knew when we married that she hadn’t much stamina. She was a delicate little creature; maybe that was part of the attraction. But we…well, I believed that we loved one another.’ He glanced at her apologetically. ‘But I’ve watched her change over the years She’s selfish now, selfish and demanding, and she delights in her frailty. She believes it is part of a well-brought-up woman’s nature to be frail and in need of care. As you can imagine, we haven’t enjoyed a real marriage for more than twelve years…not that we ever really enjoyed it,’ he added, thoughtfully. ‘Twelve years ago; that was when our son was born…stillborn, I should say.’

  ‘Oh, I see…’ said Bella again. ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘It was a difficult birth when Rosalind was born, long and drawn-out. The doctor helped all he could – she had far more help, I am sure, than some poor women get – but Prudence regarded it as an experience never to be repeated. She was unwell for ages afterwards, and all the love she had was centred on Rosalind, never on me… And she began to suffer from every complaint you can imagine, or convinced herself that she did.

  ‘But I badly wanted a son; I feel ashamed sometimes when I think about it. It was a difficult pregnancy and the birth was even worse than it had been with our first child; and in the end the poor little mite was stillborn. Edward, we called him, after the prince… But she has never forgiven me and nothing has been right since then between Prudence and myself. I do what I can to take care of her, financially and materially. She doesn’t go short of anything. Actually, she had a considerable dowry from her father when we married, and so…’ He shrugged. ‘As I’ve said, I do what I can.’

  ‘I’m glad you have told me,’ said Bella. ‘It can’t have been easy for you.’ She was somewhat discomfited, though, by Ralph’s story. What had he been saying? That his wife had been unwilling, but that he had forced himself upon her and claimed his rights as a husband? Such an act would, indeed, be abhorrent to a woman of Prudence’s temperament. She found herself feeling almost sorry for the woman. But from what she knew of Ralph, personally, he seemed to be a kind and considerate man, and a wife such as he had must have driven him to distraction at times. She knew that his situation was not unique. There must be many men, and women too, trapped in unhappy marriages such as theirs from which there was no escape.

  ‘I can’t pretend that I have lived like a monk,’ he said now. ‘I have been – what shall I say? – friendly with one or two ladies. But please believe me, Bella, I am not a philanderer. As soon as I met you I knew there could be something special between us, and I think you felt the same…didn’t you?’

  She nodded silently.

  ‘And…dare I hope that you still feel the same?’

  She nodded again. ‘Yes, I do. But neither am I a…philanderer, or I suppose it would be a trollop in my case. But I’m not! I might have been rather indiscreet once or twice when I was younger. But it’s all in the past now.’

  ‘And I will never enquire into the past unless you want to tell me about it,’ said Ralph. �
��But as far as I’m concerned I felt I had to put all my cards on the table. And I will be very happy to go on enjoying your friendship, Bella, and, maybe…a little more than that?’

  Chapter Ten

  It was inevitable that the friendship between Ralph Cunningham and Bella Randall should continue, and it lasted for almost eight years.

  They came to be regarded in the town as a ‘couple’, although it was known that they were not married, at least not to one another. She had always been something of a mystery woman, appearing suddenly, as she had done, as if from nowhere, then climbing the social ladder, via Madame Grenville, into the comfortable love nest with Ralph Cunningham. Tales of his unhappy marriage to a woman in York – it was said that she was an invalid – gathered momentum in the town. Some tongues were malicious. Maud Green, for instance, was unwilling to forget how she had been slighted, which was how she saw it.

  But most folk thought of Ralph as a good sort, well respected in business circles, and a man who was ready to help associates who might find themselves in a spot of financial trouble. He and his lady friend were soon accepted into the social scene. After all, the Prince of Wales had a string of lady friends and nobody thought any the worse of him. ‘Good old Teddy’ was regarded as a grand sort of chap, with his six-inch cigars, bellowing laugh and genial bewhiskered countenance. Bella was contented; more than contented; she felt that she had found what she was seeking – security, happiness and love. She was sure that Ralph loved her and she believed that she loved him. They were almost like a married couple. Almost…because she knew he could never marry her whilst his wife was still living, and Prudence was what was often referred to as a ‘creaking gate’. This situation could continue for years and years.

  Ralph had never taken up residence in the rooms above the shop, although he stayed there quite openly on his frequent visits to Scarborough. This was Bella’s domain, to furnish as she wished, and Ralph had insisted that she should choose whatsoever she wanted with regard to the furniture, carpets and curtains. She was proud of her ‘little palace’, which was how she thought of it. It was as posh as Maud Green’s any day of the week, and, she believed, rather more tasteful. Ralph had assured her she would always be financially secure and that he would make provision for her. But she paid little heed to the future; the present was turning out to be just what she had dreamt about.

  It was unavoidable that they should encounter Maud and Archie Green sometimes at social gatherings, and gradually a truce was arrived at between the two women. Their two businesses were, as Ralph had predicted, proving to be mutually beneficial. And Ralph and Archie had never had any problem in rubbing along together. Different personalities, but both of them shrewd businessmen.

  She had wondered if they might also meet William Moon and his wife socially, but this did not happen. Obviously they moved in different circles. Will had been into the shop, though, during the late summer of the year they had opened. They had greeted one another without embarrassment and, with Bella’s help, he had chosen some perfume for his wife; Rimmel’s ‘Bouquet’, advertised as being ‘as sweet as a May morning’. Bella’s assistant, Sally, who had not long left school, wrapped up the little parcel in floral paper whilst Bella dealt with the money transaction.

  It was later in the year that Clara, his wife, had come into the shop for the first time. The window was dressed ready for the Christmas season and Bella was pleased with the colourful and arresting display. She had, with Ralph’s permission, ordered several new lines which needed to be on show in the window, and so the rule of simplicity first and foremost had been overlooked temporarily. There were tortoiseshell and ivory combs from Spain, exquisitely hand carved, some to use for combing the hair and others as fashionable hair ornaments; natural sponges for use in the bath; toothbrushes with bone and ivory handles; exotic perfumes – ‘Phul-nana’, ‘Sweet Pea Blossom’, ‘Scent of Araby’ and ‘Parma Violet’, in glass-stoppered bottles with pretty flowered labels and ribbon around the neck.

  Bella thought she recognised her as soon as she came through the door, but she could not be certain; she had only caught a glimpse of her, once, from across the road. She smiled welcomingly as she always did.

  ‘Good afternoon, madam. And how may we help you?’

  Clara – for Bella very soon realised that it was, indeed, Clara Moon – smiled back. ‘What a lovely smell,’ she exclaimed, taking a deep breath of the air, heavy with the scents of perfume, powder and pomades. Then she gave a little laugh. ‘I suppose I should say perfume, shouldn’t I, not smell, in such beautiful surroundings? But it really is quite breathtaking.’

  Bella had remembered her from her coat and hat, the same ones, brown and fur-trimmed, that she had been wearing before. Clearly she did not waste money on too many changes of clothes. She was a pretty woman, Bella thought again; of medium height, slim build and with dainty finely drawn features. Her wisps of reddish-golden hair and her warm brown eyes, shining out from beneath her fur hat, reminded Bella of a bright little squirrel.

  ‘Yes, I suppose we get used to the…odour,’ Bella laughed, ‘working in it all day. Don’t we, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Randall,’ replied the young assistant dutifully.

  ‘I’m glad you find it pleasant,’ Bella continued. ‘Some people think it is overpowering. Now, madam – what would you like to see?’

  ‘Those lovely combs you have in the window, please.’

  ‘Certainly, madam. Sally, would you find a selection for the lady?’

  Clara bought two fancy combs, one to enhance a lady’s dressing table and the other as a hair ornament. ‘Not for myself, of course,’ she explained. ‘My hair is too fine for me to wear anything like that; it’s a Christmas present for a friend.’ She glanced admiringly at Bella’s glossy black locks and the carved and jewelled comb which secured the chignon at the back. ‘That comb looks lovely in your hair, Miss Randall,’ she said, ‘if you don’t mind me mentioning it.’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ laughed Bella. ‘I believe in advertising our goods any way we can. But I shall treat myself to it. I shall have to, won’t I, now that I’ve worn it?’

  Clara also chose three boxes of floral soaps for presents and a tin of cherry-flavoured tooth powder. Then she said, tentatively, ‘I was wondering whether to go really mad and treat myself…’ She looked, Bella thought, like an excited little girl in a sweet shop. ‘My husband bought me some perfume for my birthday; “Bouquet” it was called, by Rimmel, and I liked it so much. In fact, the bottle is nearly empty.’

  ‘Ah yes… I think I remember the gentleman,’ said Bella, who had taken over serving this customer, leaving Sally to deal with an elderly lady who had just come into the shop. ‘A very popular perfume, madam. We have recently ordered some more; it’s sure to be in demand at Christmastime. Are you sure that is the one you want, or would you prefer to try something different? Forget-me-not, perhaps, or this essence of Lily of the Valley?’

  ‘No…no, thank you. I’ll take the “Bouquet”. I had never used perfume very much before, but this one seems to suit me.’

  Bella smiled at her, not in an obsequious manner but more as woman to woman. ‘And you are doing the right thing,’ she said, leaning towards her and speaking confidingly. ‘It is every woman’s privilege to treat herself now and again.’

  And Clara, without any coaxing, purchased, in addition, a jar of face cream, also by Rimmel, which promised to beautify and preserve the complexion. Bella was surprised at how much she had liked the woman, William Moon’s wife. She realised, too, that she no longer felt any jealousy or antagonism towards her. But then why should she? Bella, also, now had someone who cared for her.

  They did not become friends, but Clara Moon visited the shop now and again and was always ready to chat and pass the time of day. During one visit she mentioned, confidentially, that her husband was an undertaker and that she, too, helped out with the work. A dab of perfume on her handkerchief was necessary at times, she said, to mask othe
r less pleasant odours.

  ‘Ah yes, I see…’ Bella had nodded, not admitting that she already knew of the profession of Clara’s husband. Neither did she ever let on to William Moon, who also paid infrequent visits to the shop, that she had made the acquaintance of his wife.

  She was aware when Clara was pregnant again in the spring of 1890. She did not see her again for several months, but she had read in the evening paper that William and Clara Moon were pleased to announce the arrival of a daughter, Madeleine, on the twenty-first of June.

  A daughter… Although several years had gone by Bella could not help but think, with a stab of pain, of her own little daughter; Henrietta, the daughter she had been forced to give up for adoption. She would be nine years old now, the little girl who was – she realised with a jolt – half-sister to the child to whom Clara Moon had just given birth.

  Bella told Ralph, little by little, about most of the incidents of her past life. She even admitted that she had worked as a herring girl during her last sojourn in the town. He had shown little surprise at her revelations, not even when she told him her reason for leaving the resort and going back up north; that she had found herself pregnant and that the young man – no more than a lad, really, she had explained – had been unable to stand by her. His name was not mentioned. Probably Ralph assumed that he was no longer on the scene and Bella did not refute his belief.

  When William Moon had let her down she had gone back to Northumberland with a vague plan in her mind. There was someone whom she believed she could rely on to help her in her predicament…

  Tobias Lonsdale was the son of the local squire, Sir Horace Lonsdale, one of the largest landowners in the area around Morpeth, and it was this young man, Toby, who had been responsible for Bella’s dismissal from Lonsdale Hall at the age of sixteen. He had been a few years older and engaged to the daughter of another of the gentry families. Although he had an eye for a pretty girl Toby was not a lascivious sort of young man who thought only of his own lust and gratification, as did some of his peers. He was genuinely fond of Bella although their friendship had never progressed beyond a few kisses and covert meetings away from the house. But when their trysts had been discovered by Toby’s irate mother, Bella had been sent packing.