To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  Mercy merely smiled, though secretly she agreed with Lady Agnew. For some time she had been suggesting to the Mannings that their aunt needed greater care than she was able to offer. As yet there had been no response.

  ‘Ah well, come along, Elsie. Get your hat, then we’ll go shopping.’

  Mercy shook her head in amusement as she watched them go upstairs to their rooms. It was typical that Mrs Hastings should be clutching a bulging canvas bag from which protruded knitting needles, while her sister carried only a copy of Vogue. Such diverse characters, yet underneath the sharp remarks and the bickering she suspected they were extremely fond of each other.

  ‘Have I missed something funny? You’re grinning all over your face,’ remarked Peter, as he came in.

  ‘Only the Terrible Twins. They do make me laugh.’

  ‘And me. It’s meeting people like Lady Agnew that makes hotel-keeping worthwhile.’

  ‘She’s certainly taken a fancy to you. I’m going to have to watch out.’ She smiled, rejoicing quietly inside that she could joke about such things now.

  ‘In that case, so am I. I don’t think I could cope with a passionate affair with her, she’s got far too much energy. I’d be worn out in no time.’

  ‘Maybe you should get yourself into shape.’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky!’ He slapped her playfully on the bottom, i’m too busy arranging moonlight cruises for our guests.’

  ‘So you’ve managed to arrange it? That’s wonderful.’

  ‘Yes, the boat’s booked. I’ve looked over her and she’s nicely fitted out. The skipper says our people can go aboard a couple of hours earlier to lay out the supper. There’s a bit of space for dancing, provided no one does too energetic a charleston. If this proves popular I can see us enlarging our fleet to include a small cruise-liner.’

  ‘The hotel certainly seems to be acquiring a nautical bias,’ smiled Mercy, ‘so why not? A liner would fit into the scheme of things very nicely, though, I’d rather we didn’t take on anything more until our four stars are well and truly secure. Now that we’ve applied to the AA we don’t want anything to go wrong.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Peter was suddenly serious. ‘It’s been a hard year, but when I compare how things were after the food-poisoning business…’

  ‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’ Mercy agreed quietly.

  ‘Business has improved dramatically, thanks to your hard work with the yachting.’

  ‘No, the yachting’s only the top-dressing. It’s everyone’s hard work that’s brought about our miracle. There was a time when I thought we might go under.’

  ‘Me too.’ She slid her arms about him, the memory of those dark weeks causing her to seek solace. ‘Not any more, though. We’re a success.’

  ‘So we are! How clever I was to marry you all those years ago. I knew you had potential, even then. That was the only reason I pursued you.’

  ‘Wretch!’ She pretended to pull away from him, but as she had hoped he merely tightened his hold, drawing her closer until their lips touched.

  ‘Yer, you’m idn’t supposed to be canoodling, you’m married!’ broke in Dolly’s voice. ‘Besides, what’d the guests think? Us’ll be getting a reputation as one of they naughty ’ouses next, the sort the police raid.’

  ‘Now what sort of houses would they be, Dolly? I’ve no idea what you mean,’ said Peter innocently.

  ‘I’ll bet!’ Dolly gave a chuckle, and dug him in the ribs. ‘Any road, I’ve come to break up your sweet’earting. The man from the linen supplier’s ’as arrived with they samples you wanted.’

  ‘In that case I’d better come up and see him.’ Mercy followed Dolly up the staff stairs.

  ‘I near enough bumped into that Lady Agnew on my way down,’ remarked Dolly.

  ‘What, coming down these stairs?’

  ‘Yes. ’Er said, “Just taking a short cut, my dear!” as breezy as you like. ’Er’s a proper scream; idn’t ’er?’ ‘Life’s never dull when she’s around, certainly.’

  ‘You know who ’er minds me of? Your grandma!’

  ‘Oh, surely not!’

  ‘I means it. I’m surprised you ’aven’t noticed. ’Er’ve got that same determined way about ’er. ’Er’m going to do as ’er pleases, and no one idn’t going to shift ’er.’

  ‘You know, you could be right… I think I agree with you. Now you’ve mentioned it I see the resemblance. She is like Blanche.’

  ‘Mind you, I’ve got to admit ’er smells a deal better than your gran ever did,’ Dolly grinned.

  Mercy pulled a face at her, but before she could think of a suitably cutting reply they had reached the linen room. Later, after dinner, she was pinning a notice on the guests’ bulletin board when Jane Agnew came along, looking suitably elegant for the evening in a vivid green chiffon dress, the skirt of which hung in fashionable handkerchief points.

  ‘Now what have you thought up to keep us entertained, Mrs Lisburne?’ she inquired. ‘It’s one thing I like about this hotel, quite apart from the handsome men. There’s always something exciting to do. I like it for my sister’s sake, you understand. She needs dragging away from her knitting. As for myself, I can always find something to amuse me.’ She said it with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

  Dolly’s right, thought Mercy. She is like Blanche. How odd that I have not noticed it before. Aloud she said, ‘I think you’ll both enjoy this. We’ve organized an evening cruise round the bay for tomorrow. There’ll be supper and dancing and a full moon.’

  ‘Ah, I can see you’ve thought of all the essentials.’ Jane Agnew scrutinized the notice, reading every word until she reached Mercy’s signature. ‘Goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re called Mercy! How odd!’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it? I think I must be the only person burdened with such a Christian name.’

  ‘Not so! I said “How odd!” because we had an Aunt Mercy, and we always thought she was unique. Her name was really Mercedes, but that was too much of a mouthful, she was always known as Mercy. Well I never!’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Mercy was genuinely surprised. ‘So I’m not the only one. I do hope your aunt didn’t suffer as I did. I was for ever being teased about my name.’

  ‘The poor soul had an unhappy life, certainly, though I don’t think her name had much to do with it. Now this cruise of yours. Can I have your assurance there will be plenty of men?’

  ‘Absolutely guaranteed!’

  ‘Then put my sister and myself at the top of the list, if you please.’

  The evening cruise proved to be an unqualified success.

  ‘Everyone’s saying how grand it was and when’s the next one,’ reported Joey afterwards. ‘It’s the sort of thing we could follow up. Mind, I’m leaving the arrangements to Peter; he can get the blame if the sea gets choppy!’

  ‘Coward!’ said Mercy.

  ‘You’ve got it in one. Well, if there’s nothing more you need me for I’ll be off. I’ve got to get back to Seaton’s.’

  ‘How’s business there?’

  ‘Very satisfactory at the moment. We’re making a comfortable profit, thank goodness.’

  ‘You deserve it, you work so hard.’

  ‘Work’s the easy bit,’ he said. ‘It’s the rest of life which is hard. ’Bye, Mercy. See you tomorrow.’

  The sad smile he gave stabbed at her heart. Poor Joey, there seemed no solution to his problems.

  After he had gone, Mercy went to see how the lunches were progressing. The dining room was gratifyingly full on this bright sunny day, the murmur of pleasant chatter competing with the bees in the rambling roses outside the open windows. She paused to pass the time of day with the guests at one table. As she did so she was conscious of a sudden silence behind her, followed by smothered titters. Looking round she saw Miss Manning standing in the doorway, wearing a very smart hat, her inevitable furry slippers – and knee-length summer combinations.

  Fortunately Dobbie was sitting close by. He leapt to his feet, and had wrapped Mi
ss Manning in his jacket before Mercy could reach her.

  ‘Hello, Miss Manning,’ she said calmly. ‘Isn’t it a beautiful day? Shall we go and choose you something pretty to wear at lunch? Your lavender silk would look quite delightful with that hat?’

  ‘Do you think so? I wasn’t sure. You don’t think my navy-blue crepe de chine might be better?’ Dulcie Manning cheerfully allowed herself to be led away.

  Mercy handed the old lady over to one of the maids, who soon had her dressed, and returned, suitably clad, to the dining-room.

  ‘Bless you for coming to the rescue before she got right across the floor,’ Mercy said to Dobbie, giving him back his jacket. ‘You prevented quite an embarrassing incident.’

  ‘More than you know, m’dear,’ he chuckled. ‘The poor old soul had forgotten to button her coal-house hatch!’

  Miss Manning’s latest escapade caused a lot of laughter; nevertheless, it proved the last straw.

  ‘She can’t go on like this,’ Mercy said. ‘This time it was amusing, but she’s growing less and less responsible for her actions. Something must be done. If the Mannings want us to keep her here they must employ someone to be with her twenty-four hours a day. We can’t cope.’

  The letter, couched in friendly yet firm terms, was completed and sent off.

  ‘I said she was batty, didn’t I?’ remarked Lady Agnew. ‘Still, she’s quite harmless, poor dear.’

  Lady Agnew and her sister were taking tea on the terrace as Mercy passed beside their table. Below them, slicing through the blue-green water, they could see the Wild Goose, the hotel’s yacht, being put through her paces by Peter.

  ‘I must say being afloat really does something for a man,’ observed Jane Agnew.

  ‘Your eyesight must be better than mine, Jane,’ said Mrs Hastings, i can’t make out any of the gentlemen from here.’

  ‘I’m speaking from experience not eyesight!’ said her sister cuttingly. She turned to Mercy. ‘I’m glad you’ve come by at this moment, Mrs Lisburne. Have you got time to join us for a cup of tea? There’s something I’d like to show you.’

  ‘Thank you, I’d love to.’ Mercy settled herself at the table, and signalled for the waiter to bring more tea and another cup.

  When he had done so Lady Agnew produced a large brown paper parcel, and placed it on the table, to the imminent peril of the crockery. She removed the wrapping to reveal a photograph album. A highly superior album, although it was old, for it was of expensively tooled Moroccan leather, much embellished with gold leaf. On the front was a highly ornate and impressive coat of arms.

  ‘The old family crest!’ said Jane Agnew somewhat derisively. ‘I’m afraid we suffer from delusions of grandeur.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ protested her sister. ‘We do come from very old stock. We can trace our ancestors right back to the thirteenth century.’

  ‘Everyone’s from old stock!’ retorted Jane. ‘Just because there’s written proof of our ancestors doesn’t make our family any older than anyone else’s. It isn’t our coat of arms I wanted to show Mrs Lisburne, it is one of the photographs. I thought you might like to see the other Mercy. Proof that you aren’t the only one ever to have existed.’

  ‘I would indeed,’ said Mercy.

  ‘We’ve just been to Exeter to fetch it,’ Jane explained, opening the album. ‘We’ve been having it repaired by a marvellous man who does work for the cathedral library. I don’t suppose this is as rare or valuable as the other books he works on, but it is a family treasure, and we value it. Ah, here’s the right place. I knew I’d marked it.’

  The page she turned to was occupied by a single sepia photograph, faded with age. It was of a family group, a man and woman with their four children. They were certainly well-off, to judge by their clothes, which were in the style of the 1860s or 1870s Mercy guessed.

  ‘There’s our Aunt Mercedes, the other Mercy.’ With a well-manicured finger Jane Agnew pointed to the woman.

  ‘She was our father’s sister,’ explained Elsie Hastings. ‘Such a sweet, gentle soul.’

  Mercy gazed down at the picture. Even primitive photography and the blurring of age could not hide the fact that the other Mercy had been a lovely woman. Her well-shaped features and large dark eyes gave her a timeless beauty which went beyond mere fashion.

  ‘She is beautiful,’ Mercy said. ‘And doesn’t she look happy, surrounded by her children. I see her husband is a clergyman.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle Ambrose was in the Church. Had ambitions to be Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Archangel Gabriel, or something, but never made it!’

  ‘Jane, that’s not true!’

  ‘Well, he certainly had ambitions which were never fulfilled, as his temper proved. A very irritable man! If Aunt Mercy looked happy in that picture it must have been a temporary aberration.’

  ‘You really do say some wicked things…

  The sisters went on bickering, but Mercy no longer heard them. She was too engrossed in looking at the eldest child in the group, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen.

  It was the dress which attracted her attention, a plaid crinoline short enough to display a pair of neat white boots. She had seen a dress like that before, and similar white boots! She looked more closely at the young face. It was indistinct, faded by the passing years.

  ‘And this is one of your cousins, I presume,’ she said as evenly as she could manage.

  The sisters paused in their verbal battle.

  ‘It certainly is! That’s Cousin Blanche!’

  ‘Oh…!’

  Tension gripped Mercy. Tension and an almost unbearable anticipation. She struggled to remain calm, to hold her curiosity in check. After all, she might be wrong! It might be no more than a coincidence! The figure in the photograph was too blurred to be identified positively as her grandmother.

  ‘She’s the skeleton in the family cupboard!’ went on Lady Agnew in dramatic tones.

  ‘Jane!’

  Mercy’s excitement almost overwhelmed her – yet still she held herself in check.

  ‘Your cousin doesn’t look a very dreadful skeleton in this picture,’ she said with incredible calm. ‘She can’t have done anything too terrible.’

  ‘Nothing that thousands of girls hadn’t done before and will no doubt do again. She got in the family way, poor little devil! Not long after this photograph was taken, at a guess.’

  ‘What – what happened to her?’ Mercy’s voice was no more than a whisper.

  ‘Uncle Ambrose turned her out of the house,’ Elsie Hastings said primly. ‘He couldn’t have done anything else, a man in his position.’

  ‘He could have shown some Christian charity,’ retorted her sister. ‘He was supposed to be in that line of business, wasn’t he?’

  ‘I’m sure he did everything necessary,’ said Elsie. ‘Everything necessary not to wreck his career, you mean,’ snapped Jane. ‘And what do you know of it, anyway? You were too young at the time!’

  ‘I’m only two years younger than you!’ exclaimed Elsie. ‘And I recall that Blanche made some wicked, wicked accusations. How someone so young could have thought of anything so shocking—’

  ‘Exactly! She was only sixteen and as naive as they come. Far too naive to have thought them up.’

  ‘But to have accused a senior churchman – a dean!’ ‘Well, why not? Just because a fellow preaches a sermon or two on Sundays doesn’t make him different from the rest. He’s made exactly the same way under his cassock, you know!’

  ‘Jane!’ Elsie’s face flamed its habitual scarlet. ‘But to accuse the dean! I remember him! He was charming!’

  ‘A bit too charming! If your memory were better you’d recall he was a bit too fond of cuddling young girls on his lap. I remember, though. I always tried to avoid him, he was too active with his hands. I wasn’t the trusting sort, like Blanche. My word, did he make a fuss of her, calling her his “special little friend” and similar muck! And she took it all in! She was a loving soul, was Blanche.
Loving and trusting. That was her trouble!’

  ‘And her parents, didn’t they believe her?’ asked Mercy, shaken by what she had heard.

  The sisters turned to her in some surprise, they had been so absorbed in their arguing they had apparently forgotten her existence.

  ‘Aunt Mercy did, I think,’ said Jane. ‘By all accounts she went down on her bended knees to Uncle Ambrose, begging him to help Blanche, instead of turning her out. Not that it did any good. He wouldn’t relent, not him. I reckon he believed her, though. He must have known what sort of a man the dean was; they’d been friends for years.’

  ‘And still he sent Blanche away?’ Mercy could scarcely believe that anyone could be so hard-hearted.

  ‘He was an ambitious man, as I’ve said,’ replied Jane with a cynical smile. ‘He was relying on the dean to help him on his way up the ecclesiastical ladder. He had three daughters, but only one career, so he sacrificed Blanche.’

  ‘He was a clergyman!’ Mercy was shocked.

  ‘So was the dean!’ observed Jane. ‘I remember Father remarking that knowing those two particular churchmen made him wonder what sort of fellows the devil was employing. Our parents were so distressed when they heard about it, a young girl thrown out like that, especially when she was far more sinned against than sinning. We were spending a year abroad at the time, you see, otherwise our parents would have done something to help. By the time we got home it was all over and Blanche was long gone. No one ever found out where.’

  ‘I’m sure Mrs Lisburne is quite bored with hearing our family history,’ Elsie said.

  How could Mercy tell them she was anything but bored, that every word they had said had been relevant to her own life? This was her grandmother they were talking about! Her family!

  ‘My sister doesn’t approve of this washing of dirty linen in public,’ Jane remarked. ‘As if it mattered. They’re dead now. Blanche, too, most likely.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle Ambrose died soon afterwards,’ Elsie sighed. ‘They said it was because of all this trouble.’

  ‘Divine retribution, more likely,’ put in Jane. ‘He never did get the advancement he so longed for. Not that he would have gone far if he’d lived, in my opinion. The money, and the background came from Aunt Mercy’s side – our side of the family. She married beneath her, and maybe that was what fired Uncle Ambrose’s ambition. At any rate, he died knowing he was a failure, but even that wasn’t sufficient punishment for what he did.’