The House of Lyall

by Doris Davidson

  She wasn’t interested in love. She wanted the safety, the power, of money around her, the wherewithal to buy enough clothes to fill closet after closet – and have some little saleswoman falling over herself to give advice on the proper outfit for the occasion. She could do without cuddles and kisses, she hadn’t had many up to now anyway … though she’d the feeling she could grow to like Andrew’s. But he could never take her into the realms of the upper classes, where no one would ever dare speak to her the way that stuck-up pig of a girl had tonight. If it hadn’t been for that, she might have let herself be swept away by his declaration of love.

  She was getting weak.

  The New Year of 1897 was only days old when the snow started, and for the next three weeks there were no walks for Marianne and Andrew, which, if they were perfectly honest, was a relief to both of them. By the time the storm came to an end, and the streets had cleared, the two upsetting episodes of the night of the ball were past history and were never mentioned, and Marianne and Andrew slipped back naturally into the easy relationship they had had before.

  Marianne, however, was still longing for a chance to compare him with another man … or more than one … and so, if they met any of his friends when they were out, she deliberately flirted with them. Her efforts came to fruition one Sunday early in March, when they ran into Douglas Martin, whom she had met only once before, with his common ‘friend’, Vi.

  He was with a young man this time, one who greeted Andrew like a long-lost friend. ‘Oh, Rennie, you don’t know how glad I am to see you. Could I possibly have a few words with you, or …’ He tailed off, looking apologetically at Marianne. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize …’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ she assured him, walking on to give them privacy.

  Douglas seemed to have the same idea, because he hurried to catch up with her. ‘You don’t mind if I keep you company until they …?’

  She smiled encouragingly. ‘I don’t mind.’

  He waited until they were well away from their companions before he said in a low voice, ‘I’ve seen you out with Rennie a lot, though you haven’t seen me, and I hoped I’d get a chance to speak to you on your own some time. Maybe I’m saying something I shouldn’t – if you and Rennie are … I don’t want to trespass.’

  She was mystified, but intrigued. ‘Andrew and I are only friends.’

  ‘Thank God! I’ll have to grab my chance, so … will you come out with me tomorrow night?’

  She did not take long to consider. She couldn’t say she cared for him much, but Andrew had told her some time ago that Douglas Martin had given up Law and was now studying for the ministry, so an evening out with him would be interesting … yes, it would be very interesting. ‘I’d love to,’ she murmured.

  ‘Seven o’clock at the Junction?’

  ‘All right, but I might be a few minutes late. I don’t finish work till six.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ he grinned, turning as the other two came alongside.

  They split into their original pairs, and Marianne’s curiosity made her ask, ‘What did that fellow want with you, Andrew?’

  ‘He wants me to help him with some written work he should have handed in, so I said I’d go over it with him tomorrow night.’ He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘What was Martin saying to you? You looked very serious.’

  ‘He asked me to go out with him tomorrow night and I said yes.’ Why should she keep it a secret? There was nothing to hide.

  Andrew’s open face closed abruptly. ‘I’d rather you didn’t go, Marianne.’

  She felt outraged at his attitude. ‘You don’t own me, Andrew Rennie! I’ll go out with anybody I want!’

  ‘But I know what he’s like. Remember the kind of girl he was with when –?’

  ‘I know you said she was a lady of the streets, but that doesn’t mean Douglas is a …’ Not knowing the word ‘libertine’, she stopped.

  ‘He boasts about the girls he’s …’ Too much of a gentleman to repeat the things the other man said, Andrew ended lamely, ‘… been out with.’

  She thought she knew what he meant. ‘I can look after myself. You should know by this time I’m not a shrinking violet.’

  He said no more, though aware that she had no idea what men like Douglas Martin could do, and she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

  Monday was several degrees colder than Sunday yet Marianne’s temperature was higher than usual. Andrew wasn’t the only one who had shown displeasure at her making a tryst with another man: all three of his aunts had let her see how they felt at some time during the day, but she didn’t try to defend herself. They didn’t own her either, and they couldn’t interfere in her private life.

  Supper that night was eaten in an uncomfortable silence, but neither the sisters’ stony glances nor occasional accusing looks made any difference to Marianne, and when the time came for her to set off, she decided that she couldn’t keep up the animosity any longer.

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said as she put on her jacket.

  Miss Edith’s mouth twisted in disbelief. ‘You are far too young to know what some young men can do. You have only ever been out with Andrew, who is a proper gentleman. He would never –’

  ‘I was out once with Stephen, remember?’ Marianne pouted. ‘Douglas is a nice boy, too.’ Andrew had made her suspect that Douglas wasn’t as decent as he or Stephen Grant were, but that was half the fun of going out with him, as far as she was concerned. She wanted to find out what he would do, and she would easily stop him if he tried to do anything wrong.

  Miss Esther took over the cautioning. ‘Be careful, Marianne dear. I remember, when I was about your age, a boy –’ Her face turning deep crimson, she came to an abrupt halt, then went on, her voice trembling a little, ‘No, no. You do not want to hear that.’

  ‘Times have changed,’ Marianne murmured. ‘Things are different nowadays.’

  ‘Not all that much,’ Miss Esther said sadly. ‘So be on your guard.’

  Miss Emily added a rider. ‘It is best not to let boys know how you feel; it only encourages them.’

  ‘Do not let him keep you out too late,’ was Miss Edith’s farewell.

  Douglas was waiting at the Junction, where Holburn Street met Union Street. ‘I thought of taking you to see the show at the Music Hall,’ he observed. ‘It’s a bit too cold for a walk, isn’t it?’

  If they were in a hall among other people, Marianne thought, he wouldn’t have the chance to do anything to her, wrong or otherwise, and she dared to say quietly, ‘I’d rather go for a walk, if you don’t mind?’

  They set off into the dimly lit evening.

  Smiling at the effort her sisters were making to camouflage their tiredness, Miss Edith remarked, ‘For goodness’ sake, off you go to bed, the two of you. I’ll wait until Marianne comes in.’

  They jumped up with surprising alacrity, Miss Esther saying, ‘I seem to need more and more sleep as I grow older.’

  Stifling a yawn with her hand, Miss Emily nodded. ‘I am the same.’

  As the eldest, Miss Edith shook her head reprovingly. ‘If you give in to your years, senility will come on you all the sooner.’

  Miss Emily paused at the door. ‘Oh, do you think we should not …?’

  ‘One early night will not harm you, but do not make a habit of it.’

  Edith lay back against the cushions of what had been their father’s seat, a wide, leather-covered armchair with a high, buttoned back. She was concerned for their protégée. Marianne looked older than seventeen and she had no experience of the big, harsh world, where men, even young men, lay in wait for those such as her, to ravish them, to defile them and leave them afraid to trust any other man. She cast her mind back almost forty years. She had been seventeen, the same age as Marianne, when she met Sandy Raitt. She would never forget him. Sandy! He had been so handsome in his blue uniform, and looked such a gentleman that even her father had been taken in …

  The elderly lady was sta
rtled out of quite a deep sleep by the silvery chimes of the domed clock on the mantelshelf. Eleven o’clock! What could have happened to Marianne? Wide awake again and, in her anxiety for the girl, more finely tuned to any noises, Edith became aware of a sound outside in the street. Thank heaven! But it was far too late for Marianne to be staying out with a boy! She would have to be told … but why hadn’t she come in?

  Absolute silence fell again, and after another five minutes, Edith could stand it no longer. She had to find out what was going on.

  Striding to the front door, she opened it quietly and was astonished that she could see no one in the flickering light of the gaslamp a few yards along. Thinking that she must have heard a cat prowling about, she was on the point of going back inside when her eye was drawn to a slight movement to her right.

  ‘Is that you, Marianne?’ she said softly, not wishing to rouse her sisters.

  Skirts rustling, a figure trailed round from the side of the cottage. ‘Good gracious!’ Edith exclaimed. ‘What were you doing round there?’

  ‘I was … I was waiting … for you to go to bed.’ The unsteady words ended in a torrent of tears, and Marianne gladly allowed herself to be led inside.

  Her story came out as if she were in a trance; the walk down to the river and along the banks. ‘He wasn’t doing anything bad,’ she went on, gulping, ‘till we came to the cemetery …’

  ‘Trinity,’ murmured Miss Edith, wondering what was coming.

  ‘Is that what it’s called? Well, he took me over and pulled me inside the gate … I was scared to go … and then he … started …’

  ‘I can guess, my dear. Do not distress yourself by telling me.’

  But now she had started, Marianne felt compelled to get it all out. ‘He was only kissing me at first, and stroking my neck, but something aboot him made me fear’t, so I started fightin’ him aff, but it was like fightin’ a raging bull and I couldna stop him – nae even when he started touchin’ me on my … bosom. But when he lifted my skirts and tried to force me down on the ground, I went right mad.’

  Her voice was rising, so Miss Edith grasped her hand. ‘My dear girl, I know exactly what happened. It happened to me once, when I was about your age.’ She gave a tight smile at the incredulity on the white face. ‘I was quite pretty in those days and I was very lucky that the boy did not make me pregnant, otherwise my father would have thrown me out. The best thing for you to do now is to give yourself a thorough wash … down there, and go to bed. We can do nothing else but wait until –’

  ‘You don’t understand!’ Marianne cried. ‘I didn’t let him! You see, I’ve always been scared of cemeteries, and it was being so close to the gravestones as much as him mauling me … that helped me to …’

  ‘You actually stopped him?’ Miss Edith could scarcely believe it.

  ‘I twisted awa’ and kicked him right in the balls! An’ when he was holdin’ himsel’ and swearin’ like a trooper, I took to my heels and ran.’

  Her eyes wide with shock at the coarseness which had come from the trembling young mouth, Miss Edith over-looked it since the girl was in such a state. ‘All I can say is thank heaven you got away from him. It was a brave thing you did, but you might easily have been overpowered. Your escape was lucky indeed! Now, off you go to bed, but remember, do not arrange to meet any more boys until I have vetted them. Good night, my dear. You are quite safe now.’

  ‘Good night, Miss Edith.’ Marianne stood up and, on impulse, bent down and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for not being angry with me.’

  ‘Is that why you waited outside? You were afraid I would be angry? I am angry at the boy for taking advantage of a naïve young girl, but it was not your fault, although …’ she paused for a moment, a twinkle in her eyes, ‘… we tried to warn you, if you remember? But we must let bygones be bygones. I shall never mention it again, not even to my sisters … and especially not to Andrew.’

  Miss Edith did some thinking while she made sure that the fire was left safe before she went to bed. Was it fate that had made the seducer choose a graveyard in which to perpetrate his vile deed? Had Marianne been given divine protection? Or was it sheer good luck? Whatever the reason, her ordeal had not been as bad as it could have been. At least it was over. She would not have the worry of waiting to see if her show came. Nor was she suffering from a broken heart, as she, Edith, had been, for she had loved Sandy Raitt. They had kept company for almost three months while he was stationed in the Torry Point Battery, close to Girdleness Lighthouse – he had been one of the first volunteers who made up the Aberdeenshire Royal Garrison Artillery – but after that night, she had neither seen nor heard of him again.

  She laid down the poker and straightened up. He had professed to love her, which was why she hadn’t stopped him … and it hadn’t been an altogether dreadful experience because she loved him. Even after all those years, there was still a soft spot for him in her memory. She may be an old maid, but unlike many of the breed, she had tasted of the sweet fruit which was forbidden to unmarried girls.

  One pleasant Sunday afternoon in late March, when Marianne was walking along the beach promenade with Andrew, the sea looking much more friendly than on her first visit, she was surprised to see Stephen Grant coming towards them. She hadn’t seen him since the night he dropped her like a hot brick, a year and a half ago, and she was elated by the change in his expression when he heard her talking in such a refined manner. She laid it on thickly. ‘It’s so nice to see you again, Stephen,’ she gushed. ‘I often wondered if I had done something to offend you.’

  ‘I’ve b-been b-busy swotting,’ he stammered.

  ‘All the time?’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously, causing Andrew to step in to save his friend embarrassment. ‘Pay no attention to her, Stephen. She is just teasing.’

  ‘May I walk along with you?’ Stephen mumbled. ‘Dick Thorne started off with me, then he met a girl he knew, and –’

  ‘You’re very welcome to join us,’ Marianne smiled.

  For a time, conversation centred round the weather, always a good talking point, then Stephen looked hopefully at Andrew. ‘My parents are abroad until the middle of July and I was thinking of asking some friends to dinner one night next week – Dick and his girl if they’ll come, another three chaps with partners, and there’s my young sister and me, of course. Would you and Marianne care to come? Our cook is a true gem, so you’d be guaranteed a sumptuous meal.’

  Before Andrew could answer one way or the other, Marianne said, ‘We’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Andrew?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Stephen. We’d be delighted.’

  ‘I’ll let you know, which day when I’ve got everything arranged.’

  Satisfied that his invitation had been accepted, Stephen bade them good night and left them, and Andrew turned to Marianne. ‘What are you playing at?’ he demanded disapprovingly. ‘I’d have thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he –’

  ‘He lives in one of the biggest houses in Albyn Place.’

  ‘Oh!’ His face fell. ‘Is he rich enough for you, then?’

  ‘His father is. Oh, I just want to see inside their mansion.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t say no if Stephen popped the question? He’s not a brilliant student, you know, and he’ll probably end up being an ordinary solicitor like me, with hardly enough money coming in to keep himself, never mind a wife.’

  ‘He’ll still have a wealthy father,’ she retorted, ‘and a mother out of the top drawer. I never made any bones about what I wanted, Andrew. You’ve known that all along.’

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right.’ He appeared chastened now, and held his head down for most of the way back to Strawberry Bank.

  When they neared the house, he mumbled, ‘Will you please tell my aunts I’ve a lot of notes to write up? I can’t face them right now.’

  ‘I’ll tell them, and … Andrew, I’m sorry. Anyway, Stephen might not want to marry me. He was quick enough to drop me before. It�
�s a long way from dinner to marriage and maybe he asked us to make up the numbers.’

  ‘Oh, he already has his eye on you. I’m sure the “dinner for friends” was a spur-of-the-moment thing just to get you into his home.’

  Marianne deemed it wisest not to continue on that topic. ‘Will I see you next Sunday?’ she begged.

  ‘If you want me to come.’

  ‘Of course I want you to come. I’ll always be your friend, no matter who I marry.’

  He turned away hastily, making her regret being so insensitive. He had made it clear so often that he didn’t want to be just her friend.

  When she went in, she passed on Andrew’s message and then pleaded a headache so that she could go to bed. She didn’t care that his aunts would suspect something was wrong between them – she couldn’t please everybody and she wasn’t going to try. She would please herself. It was her life, after all.

  The doubts started creeping in after she undressed and lay down. Was she being foolish? She knew nothing about Stephen Grant except that he was an out-and-out snob, so his parents would likely forbid him to marry the likes of her. Why couldn’t she be content to marry Andrew when he’d got his degree? She would be better off than she was now, financially and emotionally, because nobody else would ever love her as much as he did. And she … nearly loved him. It hurt to think there might come a time when she would no longer see him. It would depend on the partner she chose, though not many husbands would permit their wives to remain so friendly with another man.

  It all depended … it all depended … was it to be Stephen? Or Andrew? Or somebody she hadn’t yet met?

  Chapter Five

  ‘Andrew is asking for trouble,’ Miss Esther remarked. ‘Marianne will meet a different kind of people at Albyn Place.’

  Miss Edith shrugged. ‘He is afraid that if he doesn’t take her, she might come to resent him for spoiling her chances.’

  Miss Esther said no more, but when Andrew said the next Sunday that the dinner was to be on Wednesday, his pale face and sad eyes pierced her heart and she longed to reassure him. As she whispered to Miss Emily when they went to bed, ‘She cannot possibly meet anyone nicer than he is, so he need not upset himself.’