Long Acre

by Claire Rayner

  She smiled then at his earnest face and blinking round eyes behind those absurd spectacles. For all his prosiness and dullness there was a charm about him. ‘I hope, Mr Lackland — Cousin Oliver — to be very much a part of your family. A happy part. I am to wed Felix, you see, and be a true cousin in every way! And I have promised Miss Lackland, your aunt, that I shall make no further problems regarding my grandmother by speaking of her. We shall forget all about her, and pretend that we have never heard of her! I know she lived and was a great actress here in London, and that knowledge warms me. But now it is the future that matters and not the past and I shall speak of no more bygone sadnesses. There! Is that enough to please you? Can I be forgiven for behaving so badly as regards your show?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ he said huskily and coughed and took out a large white handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. ‘Of course you can. I shall look forward to seeing you again soon, then. At Aunt Martha’s perhaps, on Sunday?’

  ‘Oh, yes! Yes — I am sure that will be most agreeable!’ she said brightly and turned away again. ‘And now I must seek Fenton! Do forgive me! But I am most concerned about him, truly I am!’

  He watched her go away down the busy pavements of Dean Street and made no move to follow her. It seemed to him that she was taking with her in her billowing yellow skirts and bobbing flower-trimmed bonnet all hopes he had ever had of domestic felicity. She had been the first girl he had ever seen whom he had loved, and knowing his own nature as well as he did, he knew there would never be any other. And knew also that for all his prosaic surface appearance he was at his deepest depths a great romantic. If he could not wed for love, he would not wed at all. And as Amy Lucas’s figure disappeared in the crowds he wrapped his bachelorhood about him, and put his hat on his head and turned and walked sedately back to his Supper Rooms.

  And Amy hurried all the way back to Long Acre on foot, looking eagerly for Fenton’s familiar figure all the way, and arrived breathless and somewhat irritable to find he wasn’t there either. And tried to comfort herself with the thought that she had at least repaired matters as far as Oliver Lackland was concerned. She had repeated the promise made to Martha that there would be no more problems regarding Lilith Lucas, and that made her feel somehow better, as though she had paid for her own and Fenton’s unprofessional behaviour in marching so insouciantly out of Oliver’s show. Whatever it was that Fenton was up to now, she told herself, he could do no harm to this new family harmony. That was something to be glad of, at least.

  ‘Well, there you have it in a nutshell, gentlemen!’ Fenton leaned back in the rather rickety armchair and crossed his legs. ‘Are you interested in taking on such a case?’

  ‘Interested?’ said Horace Wormold. ‘I’d say we were interested, wouldn’t you agree, Henry?’

  ‘Indeed I would —’ Henry nodded and beamed, his round cheerful face seeming to shine with soap and good fellowship and virtue. ‘I will tell you the truth, Mr Lucas. We are interested in any case that looks to bring with it sufficient to bring us plenty of solid interest!’ and he laughed heartily at his own joke. ‘Solid interest, yes. Solid in sovereigns, eh?’

  ‘This one could. If you can bring it off.’ Fenton said. ‘Have you adequate experience in such cases?’

  Again Henry Wormold laughed his fat happy laugh. ‘Experience? Plenty. Believe me, Mr Lucas, this Will is as good as upset already! If we don’t get it on insanity, then we get in on undue influence! Either way, believe me, either way.’

  ‘You’ll remember our share, Mr Lucas.’ Horace said sharply. ‘A forty-sixty division exclusive of costs. Those are the terms.’

  Fenton stood up. ‘On the grounds that I’d rather have sixty per cent of something than a hundred per cent of nothing, you’re on, gentlemen. But make damned sure you bring in a winner first past the post, on account of I tell you not a penny piece do I have to fly with if you lose.’

  ‘We won’t,’ Henry Wormold said and laughed again. ‘Can’t afford to! Good afternoon, Mr Lucas! We’ll talk again in two weeks. We’ll have got our hands on the documents by then. And done a bit of ground-laying too, I daresay. Good afternoon!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘And when does your new play start, Amy? I had heard, on the grapevine, you know, that the first night has been delayed.’

  Amy looked up at Oliver absently. ‘What? Oh — yes. Indeed it has. Mr Rourke has been able to obtain greater backing money, and now wishes to improve the scenery and curtains.’ She smiled then, a little maliciously. ‘And to repaint the front of the house as well.’

  ‘Then he is very wise,’ Oliver said. ‘A theatre which looks in the least shabby deters patrons from entering, however well-spoken of the performances may be. Will you take more tea?’

  ‘Thank you — I should indeed like some more.’ Amy was watching the door as covertly as she could. She had been there for an hour and a half already and the entire family had gathered, and yet still there was no sign of him. And she took her tea from Oliver’s careful hand and sighed softly and looked resolutely about the room, refusing to allow herself to look at the door any more.

  Across the drawing-room beside the fire where sea coal burned cheerfully, even on this May afternoon, Felix was sitting beside Abby who was talking to him very earnestly indeed over her plateful of sandwiches, and he caught Amy’s eye and gave her the ghost of a smile, and it was as though he had reached across the room and touched her hand warmly and comfortingly. ‘He will come,’ his glance seemed to say. ‘Do not worry — he will come, and if he does not, then I will deal with him for you.’

  ‘Has the play been changed very much since it went into rehearsal, Amy?’ It was Phoebe who was speaking now, and Amy turned her attention back to the company amongst whom she was sitting. It was quite absurd, she thought somewhere deep in her mind, that I should sit here so willingly among dull relations. In Boston when they tried to make me behave so I did all I could to escape. Yet here I sit, even enjoying it in a way and wanting only Fenton here to complete my happiness. It is very strange.

  ‘A good deal, indeed, Cousin Phoebe,’ she said, and shook her head smilingly as small James offered her a plate of maids-of-honour cakes. The child had developed a distinct tendre for this pretty newcomer to his family’s Sunday afternoons, and attended her assiduously and offered her food continually. But her patience had not been exhausted yet, and James watched her unwaveringly, his nine-year-old eyes wide and worshipping.

  ‘The play is not precisely a work of great literature, you must understand,’ Amy said. ‘Indeed it is a sorry melodrama! But with some imagination in the direction and some songs and dances added, it is becoming more and more entertaining. Mr Rourke has a very rich imagination and Charles Wyndham is turning out to be a remarkably fine dancer.’

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows a trifle, watching the girl beside her over the rim of her teacup. ‘Songs and dances, Amy? Dear me! And I thought that was what you objected to in my brother’s show, and was the reason for your departure!’

  Amy reddened. ‘I am sorry about that. I have already said — ’

  ‘Cousin Phoebe, are you well?’ Felix’s voice came from behind them in a lazy drawl and Amy looked up at him with huge gratitude. ‘I have not spoken to you all afternoon — tell me all your news. How are Cecily’s pianoforte lessons progressing? And young James here — can he construe his Latin verbs as he should?’

  Phoebe was diverted at once. For all her interest in the theatre and her enjoyment of a little malice there was nothing she liked more than talking of her children and their prowess at everything they did, and she launched herself into an account of her trio’s doings and sayings while Felix listened with his face looking as friendly as it always did, though Amy knew that behind that faôade his thoughts were quite elsewhere.

  As were her own, and almost against her will she let her gaze drift back to the door. It stood there solid and uncompromisingly shut against the dark-papered wall, its velvet curtain looped a
cross it, and she willed it to open and allow Fenton to come in. And then grimaced at her own silliness, and let her gaze drift further.

  On the sofa in one of the window embrasures Isabel Henriques was sitting with her head bent as Freddy rumbled on and on about something, and looking at her Amy felt a sudden twinge of emotion she could not quite recognize. It was disagreeable and she frowned for a moment, trying to place it, and then stood up in a rustle of silk — for she was wearing her new turquoise blue gown and knew how delightful she looked in it — and moved away, after a brief smile at Felix and Phoebe, towards the sofa. To be jealous of this girl was absurd; she would not wish to stand in the way of Fenton’s happiness, ever, and if this was the girl he cared for and had chosen to be his own, then it was proper for Amy to know her and understand her, not to resent her. And she moved slowly and apparently casually towards the other girl.

  Freddy was on his feet by the time she got there. ‘Good afternoon, Amy! It is good to see you! I am sorry not to have spoken to you more this afternoon, but there — you know how it is here at Aunt Martha’s on Sundays!’

  ‘I am beginning to,’ Amy said and smiled at Isabel with her eyes wide and friendly. ‘Good afternoon, Isabel! I do like your gown — that shade of green suits you perfectly! Do tell me — did you go to one of the town modistes or have you a private dressmaker of your own?’

  ‘If you girls are going to talk clothes, I shall go and talk sense with your Felix, Amy. Fripperies make no sort of conversation for a surgeon!’

  ‘They are talking about your children, cousin,’ Amy said. ‘James’s Latin and Cecily’s pianoforte, you know! Almost as dull for you as fripperies, I imagine.’

  Freddy laughed. ‘Far from it! I am every inch the paterfamilias, Amy, as you will discover when you are even longer in this family. I like nothing better than to hear my children praised — even by their besotted Mamma!’

  As he moved away Amy hesitated, for Isabel was looking down at her hands clasped on her lap and seemed to be offering no sort of welcome, but after a moment she sat down anyway, settling her blue flounces neatly beside the rich green ones of her companion.

  There was a brief silence and then Amy said softly, ‘May I speak to you of personal matters, Isabel?’

  The other girl looked up at her, her eyes dark and lustrous but seeming somehow to be flat and dead in their depths.

  ‘Your own personal matters, Amy? But of course! We all know you are to wed Felix and wish you much joy.’

  ‘That is kind of you. But no, I did not mean that. Although talking of Felix gives me great delight, naturally.’

  ‘I am sure it does,’ Isabel said politely and Amy looked at her consideringly. There seemed to be a guardedness about this girl that did not match her pleasant expression and she gave a small sigh and tried to think what she should do. To plunge directly into talk of Fenton could be disastrous, if in fact Isabel had complicated feelings about him. Amy would not for the world do anything that might upset the balance of her brother’s relationship with this handsome but quiet girl; and there was also a healthy selfishness in her tenderness for Fenton’s interests, for she knew better than anyone how painful Fenton’s rage could be when he was crossed. So she sat and thought for a moment and then said carefully, ‘It is very delightful, Isabel, to know that one has found the man with whom one knows the rest of a happy life will be spent.’

  ‘I am sure it is.’ Isabel looked up at her, her eyes wide and limpid and quite uncommunicative, and feeling some exasperation, Amy tried again, keeping her voice as easy and light as she could. ‘Have you never wished to be in such a situation, Isabel?’

  ‘What a strange question! Why should I?’

  ‘Oh, not strange at all!’ said Amy. ‘I ask only because I used to feel such a yearning to be in the position in which I now find myself that I assumed it was one shared by other young ladies —’ Amy was almost amused at her own mendacity; she who had sailed so insouciantly through so many male conquests and who would have hated above all things the idea that she had met the one man she ever wished to love, to speak so! It was absurd.

  ‘As for other young ladies, I cannot say,’ Isabel said. ‘I know only of my own desires and interests. Will you take some more tea, Amy?’

  ‘No thank you — do tell me then — of what it is that you most dream when you think of the future and what it may hold?’

  Isabel smiled sweetly. ‘I do not dream at all, Amy. I have much too busy a life to permit it, and any way Papa and Mamma would, I am sure, be most put out by a daughter who wasted time dreaming! It is not in their style of living at all!’

  Amy stared at her, baffled. Such verbal fencing was the last thing she had expected from this quiet girl, and for a moment she wanted to shake her and shout at her and make her lose that infuriatingly calm exterior. Inside somewhere there were great fires of some sort burning, of that she was certain. This was no insipid English girl with an empty head and an emptier heart. This was a woman with real emotion in her, but clearly it was so battened down and so controlled that no hint of any of it would ever get out without her full intent. No wonder Fenton was finding life so difficult, having fallen in love with this sphinx-like creature.

  And for a moment, Amy could have laughed aloud, trying to imagine her mercurial, selfish Fenton, so responsive to his own least whim, coping with the quiet steeliness that Isabel was now presenting. And then sighed and said, ‘Perhaps I will have some more tea, after all.’

  At which for the first time Isabel smiled widely and seemed to melt and said almost merrily, ‘Talking is thirsty work, indeed! I shall bring you some myself!’ and stood up and went rustling away to the fireside where Martha sat ensconced before her handsome silver tea equipment.

  And Amy watched her go, a puzzled line between her brows, and wished heartily that she did not love her brother so dearly, nor care so much for his welfare. Life would be so agreeable just at present if she did not; there was Felix and the love they shared, and the happy way in which the family had seemed to accept the announcement of their betrothal (although Phoebe had produced one or two waspish comments, on the whole Amy had felt a genuine warmth in her welcome by them all) and her play was going well. Felix had agreed to say no more at present about whether or not she should go on with a career as an actress now she was to be his wife, and seemed as interested as she was herself in gossip about the day’s rehearsals and chatter about scene design and music and dance arrangements. With all that to fill her thoughts, she had no need of Fenton and his tiresome mysteriousness, for he had flatly refused to tell her who ‘those fellows’ of whom Wyndham had spoken might be, and what he was doing with them, only laughing at her questions and footstamping anger; and she had had to settle at that.

  But she had indeed been anxious, for he was behaving so strangely. His mood of gloom, which had been so apparent when he first spoke of his love for Isabel, was quite gone, and he seemed filled with a sort of bouncing anticipation which at first she had put down to his excitement over the play, but now knew came from other sources, for he showed less and less real interest in rehearsals, playing entirely on technique and with no real emotional involvement. He was clearly ‘up to something’ as their mother had been used to say, Amy told herself — but quite what, she did not know. And worry about it lay deep beneath her happy daily busyness like a cold stream.

  It was as Isabel came back to her with a cup of tea that at last the door opened and Fenton came in, and there was a small rustle in the room as people looked up and conversations faltered, and he stood there framed in the doorway, his hat in one hand, the other hand thrust negligently into his trouser pocket, smiling lazily around at them. And his eyes were so flaming with mischief and laughter that he looked even more exquisitely handsome than he usually did, and Amy’s heart sank. She knew that look, and it spelled trouble.

  She looked up at Isabel then, who was still standing beside her, and tried to see some expression in her eyes, but the other girl’s face remaine
d as smooth and as bland and as uncommunicative as ever. If only, Amy thought savagely, other people had speaking countenances — it was so unfair that some people could be so reserved and secretive.

  ‘Well, it is good to see you, Fenton!’ Felix said just in time to prevent the silence that had greeted the opening of the door from becoming embarrassing. ‘We missed you — ’

  ‘I am so sorry to arrive so late, Felix — and Miss Lackland — ’ and he sketched a bow in Martha’s general direction. ‘But I had business to deal with. Urgent business.’

  ‘On a Sunday?’ Phoebe said artlessly, but with an edge to her voice. ‘How strange! I know of no urgent business that is ever transacted on Sundays!’

  ‘Medical business sometimes, my dear,’ Freddy murmured and Amy looked at him sharply, recognizing that he, like her, was feeling uneasy. There was a disturbance in the room which seemed to be eddying about them all, and she opened her mouth to say something cheerful and amusing to break the strain. But she was too late, for Fenton was saying smoothly, ‘And legal business. Sometimes!’

  ‘Legal business? What is legal business?’ It was small James who was speaking now, standing in front of Fenton and staring up at him, and his treble tones seemed to go through the room like a bell. ‘Please to tell me what is legal business?’

  Fenton looked down at him and smiled and tossed his hat nonchalantly on to a chair and bent and picked the child up, swinging him high. ‘Legal business, my child, is interesting business! It is to do with money and Wills and that sort of thing!’

  Amy felt rather than saw Martha stiffen and turned her own head awkwardly to look appealingly at Fenton, who caught her glance but let his own eyes slide away. He was still tossing James in the air, who was squealing with delight.