The Lorimer Line

by Anne Melville

  It seemed to Margaret, who knew her father better, a dangerous joke; and indeed there was a pause which, although short, was curiously intense. Then, without speaking at once, John Junius unlocked a drawer and took out a small casket which he set on the desk.

  ‘Do you think Mrs Lorimer might be persuaded to forgo her diamonds for these?’ he asked. He took the lid off the casket and tipped its contents out.

  Margaret and Lydia held their breath together as the pile of red stones grew. They were of different sizes, but carefully matched as to colour. They had already been cut and polished, and even in the cold winter light they glowed with warmth.

  ‘Rubies?’ asked Margaret.

  John Junius gave the short nod which meant that a question was not worth his answer.

  ‘Pick them up,’ he said. ‘This is how a precious stone should be enjoyed. Set it in a necklace and it becomes lifeless in imprisonment. But let a dozen run through your fingers and you will understand why so many crimes are committed for what are only piles of stones.’

  Margaret did as he said, allowing the rubies to dribble between her fingers back on to the desk. Without speaking, Lydia followed her example. Taking a sign from her father as an instruction, Margaret spared his stiffer fingers the task of returning the stones to the casket.

  ‘I had intended to surprise Mrs Lorimer with the finished piece,’John Junius said. ‘I have the design ready, and have already instructed the jeweller to collect small diamonds in which these larger stones may be set. But it seems I must reveal my intentions at once, before either disappointment or the desire for some other stone bites too deeply.’

  ‘You knew already then, Papa, about the Prince’s visit?’

  ‘I had been informed, yes. Miss Morton is correct in assuming that there will be a ball on the eve of the exhibition. Will you tell Mrs Lorimer that I will wait on her in five minutes’ time. And I hope, Miss Morton, that your stay with us will be a pleasant one.’

  The excitement of seeing the rubies had driven the matter of the jade out of Margaret’s mind, but she remembered it just as she reached the door, and turned back to enquire.

  ‘The squirrel in which I take such pleasure is missing from its case, Papa,’ she said. ‘I hope there has been no accident.’

  For the second time within a few minutes her father appeared to be taken aback; but again he recovered himself quickly.

  ‘You are very quick in observation, Margaret,’ he said. ‘The squirrel, and some other of the more valuable pieces, were removed only yesterday. On Friday there was a meeting of the Board of Directors at Lorimer’s. In the moment of social conversation which preceded it, Mr Eddison mentioned that his house had received the attention of robbers on the previous evening; and this prompted Mr Crankshaw to remark that his closest neighbours had suffered in the same way within the week. My collection and its value is so well known in the city that I began to fear its presence here might invite a similar attention. I have therefore arranged for the most precious pieces to be stored in Lorimer’s strong room until law and order can be preserved more efficiently. I have also ensured that a paragraph mentioning the transfer will appear tomorrow in the Bristol Times and Mirror. So we may hope that Brinsley House will no longer appear too tempting a target.’

  ‘You seem to assume that all robbers can read, Mr Lorimer,’ said Lydia, who had waited with her friend in the doorway. ‘But we are assured, are we not, that all the products of the board schools are honest and industrious members of society. So must we not think that those who break into other people’s houses have already shown their ingenuity by evading the fetters of education?’

  It was amazing to Margaret that Lydia should dare to tease a man like her father, and even more astonishing that the lightness of her tone should arouse no disapproval. John Junius never laughed, but he nodded his head now in what was the equivalent of a smile.

  ‘The rubies must also be of great value though, Papa,’ said Margaret. ‘And easier both to steal and to sell than carvings which could be recognized if they were to appear in any other collection.’

  ‘The presence of the rubies in the house is not known to anyone outside it,’ said John Junius. ‘And they will leave it tomorrow, to be handed over to Parker so that the setting may be made. I think you may sleep easily enough in your beds tonight. And now, you were about to convey my message to your mother.’

  They returned to Georgiana’s room at once to do so. Marie-Claire, wearing her afternoon cap and lace apron, had just served a dish of hot chocolate to her mistress, with an extra saucer so that the pug might share it. On hearing the warning of John Junius’s visit she made a show of tidying the room in preparation, although she was not prepared as a rule to save the housemaid a journey for even as small a chore as the plumping of a cushion. Inspired by her friend’s light-heartedness, Margaret could not resist a tease.

  ‘I advise you not to go too far from my mother, Marie-Claire,’ she said. ‘In six minutes’ time she may well have need of her salts.’

  The advice was unnecessary - the whole household knew that any word spoken in Mrs Lorimer’s boudoir would be overheard by her lady’s maid. Nevertheless, it enabled Margaret and her friend to laugh as helplessly as schoolgirls as they emerged from the overheated room.

  ‘Wait for me just a moment in your own room, Lydia,’ asked Margaret. ‘I have one more message of my own to carry.’

  She hurried to Ralph’s room and found him sitting at his books, although his startled jump when she opened his door suggested that his mind had not been on his work.

  ‘I gave you warning before of Papa’s black mood,’ she said. ‘Have you had with him yet the interview you sought at that time?’

  Ralph shook his head and his handsome face looked alarmed, as though she had guessed the subject he needed to discuss.

  ‘Then I am come to tell you that I have not for many months seen Papa so generously disposed as he is at this moment. I ask only that if your request is likely to cloud the sunshine again for the rest of us, you should postpone it to the end of the day.’

  If she had not already observed that her brother was under some strain, she could have discovered it now. He jumped up at her first words to go straight to their father’s study, and then seized with relief on the excuse for a further postponement. Margaret did not wait to see what he would decide. She was anxious not to leave her friend alone for too long.

  There was a great deal of news to be exchanged. Naturally the most important item came first. A locket containing the likeness of Lieutenant Gerald Chapman was produced and his virtues expounded in detail. His seat on a horse, his grace at a dance, the elegant curl of his moustaches, all were the finest that had been seen in Bath that season. He was handsome and brave. Now that the system of obtaining promotion by purchasing commissions had been abolished, he would be able to rise on his own merits to become a general in no time at all.

  ‘Is it, then, your ambition to become a general’s lady, Lydia?’ laughed Margaret.

  Until that moment Lydia had allowed Margaret to tease her and had joined in the laughter at her own expense, recognizing the over-exuberance of her enthusiasm. But the laughter faded from her face as she looked down at the locket cradled in her hand.

  ‘My ambition has never been more than to find someone who would love me,’ she said. ‘I shall never have any fortune, because my father’s estate is entailed; and I know well enough that I am not to be admired for my beauty. I have spent many hours weeping over the length of my nose and the sallowness of my complexion. But Mr Chapman thinks these things of no importance. For all I care, he may remain a lieutenant all his life, with nothing but his pay to live on, and I shall never cease to love him for loving me.’

  The sincerity of her voice affected Margaret more than she dared admit. She knew and shared Lydia’s feeling, and the temptation to reveal her secret was very strong. The two girls sat in silence. Margaret was yearning for David, and it was certain that Lydia was in the grip
of a similar emotion.

  Their thoughts were distracted in the end by the sound of a carriage pulling to a standstill outside the house. Margaret looked from the window and saw that it was drawn by William’s chestnuts, not their own piebalds. She frowned to herself in surprise as she saw Sophie waiting to be handed down. Even within the family, this was a curious time for a call of which no warning had been given. As the coachman hurried to ring the doorbell, Margaret could see that her sister-in-law was in a fury. What could have happened at The Ivies to cause Sophie’s usually placid face to frown so angrily and her foot to tap with such impatience?

  7

  More powerful than any magnet is the possibility of discovering a scandal in one’s own family. Margaret made her voice sound casual as she proposed to Lydia that they should move downstairs, but it was curiosity which drew her. They passed Nathaniel, one of the footmen, as they reached the gallery. He had just discovered that his master was not in the library and was now on his way to the boudoir to announce Sophie’s arrival.

  She had brought the nursery governess with her. Claudine was standing in a corner of the hall, shivering with cold because she wore no coat.

  ‘Is Matthew here?’ Margaret hoped for a chance to show her young nephew off to Lydia. Claudine shook her head, as though she could not decide which language to use and would therefore attempt neither.

  Sophie herself, standing in the family drawing room, was equally uncommunicative. She had something to say to her father-in-law, she told Margaret with a brevity which was a deliberate snub. Margaret heard her father’s heavy steps coming down the stairs - she had noticed that he was moving more slowly in the past few months. He glanced into the drawing room, but went first into the library, no doubt because he wished to dispose of the casket of jewels he carried before receiving a visitor.

  Sophie heard the sound of the closing door.

  ‘My conversation is private,’ she told Margaret rudely, and swept into the library. Margaret waited to hear an explosion of wrath. But it seemed that the intrusion of a daughter-in-law, even without proper announcement, could be tolerated for just long enough for her to explain her business. No sound, in fact, penetrated the heavy door for almost ten minutes. When the explosion did come, it was not directed against Sophie.

  John Junius flung open the library door and strode into the hall. His face was purple with anger.

  ‘Ralph!’ he roared. He caught sight of Ransome, the butler. ‘Inform Master Ralph that he is to attend on me in the study at the instant. And hurry.’

  It was beneath Ransome’s dignity to hurry, or even to run his own errands. But beneath his master’s furious eye he went up the stairs with an appearance of bustle. The library door slammed as John Junius disappeared inside again.

  Ralph’s face was white with fear as he came running down the stairs, but the sight of Claudine standing in the corner provided a final shock. He checked his run so abruptly on the bottom step that he was forced to put out a hand to steady himself. Claudine took a step towards him. She spoke to him in French, pronouncing the words clearly and slowly so that they could be understood by a boy whose aptitude for the language was not great. This enabled Margaret also to understand her, even at a greater distance.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Claudine said. ‘Madame’s suspicions were of her own husband. It was necessary to tell the truth.’

  Ralph’s answer was also in French, but his face was turned away from the drawing room and he mumbled the words, so that Margaret was unable to hear what he said. She noticed only that Claudine’s face, which had been unhappy at first and then compassionate at the sight of Ralph, brightened briefly.

  Margaret looked steadily at Claudine. She had always been a sturdy girl, and very often had Matthew clasped in her arms, so it was perhaps not surprising that an occasional visitor should not have become aware of her condition until this moment.

  Margaret was tempted to remain as an audience, watching at least the comings and goings of the protagonists in the drama, but she could see that it should be kept private even from her best friend. She closed the drawing-room doors and proposed a game of backgammon.

  Later that evening Margaret was summoned to the library. Ralph had not appeared for supper, but his mother - who had clearly not yet been informed of the day’s later events - was in such high good humour on the subject of balls and rubies that she not only took her meal in her husband’s company but after it showed herself delighted to chat with Lydia. Margaret could see that her own absence would make it possible for the virtues of Mr Chapman to be rehearsed yet again to a new audience, so she did not feel that she was being inhospitable in abandoning her guest.

  John Junius, having ordered her presence, appeared not to know what to say. He turned his hand in the direction of a chair and she sat down. The silence extended itself for some time.

  ‘Did you wish to speak to me about the events of this afternoon, Papa?’ Margaret ventured at last. It had occurred to her that he might be wondering whether an unmarried girl could be expected to understand the situation; and this thought might not have struck him until after he had sent for her. ‘I could hardly help observing something of what was happening. I believe I understand what the position may be.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that you knew what was going on and said nothing?’ he thundered, revealing that his anger still lay near the surface. Margaret hastened to reassure him.

  ‘Not at all, Papa. I knew nothing until today. If I had discovered anything, I would have told you, for Ralph’s own sake. It is merely that I had the opportunity to observe Claudine. The rest is all a guess.’

  It seemed to come as a relief to him that he could share the secret without needing to put it into words. But he was still angry. There were mutterings about French hussies, which made Margaret wonder whether Claudine’s nationality was in his eyes her most grievous sin. Slowly he came to what appeared to be the focus of his wrath.

  ‘I refused to promise you a settlement on the occasion of your marriage,’ he said abruptly. ‘Yet although in the past you may have been headstrong and disobedient, you have at least done nothing to shame your family. And now I have to give money to this slut. You have been honest, even when your wishes have not matched mine. But this money has been forced from me by deceit and depravity. I pay it only in order that my family shall not be disgraced and that my grandchild may not starve. A French grandchild!’ He considered the prospect as though it were the unkindest cut of all. ‘At least I shall never see it. The girl will return to France tomorrow. It is a condition of what I give her that she shall never return to England or make contact with any member of the family.’

  There was another long silence.

  ‘I cannot give less to my daughter than I have given to a stranger,’ he continued at last. ‘I happened recently to discuss with Mr Trinder the affairs of your fund.’ Mr Trinder was the new accountant at Lorimer’s, who had taken over David Gregson’s role as the charity’s treasurer in addition to his bank duties. ‘He showed me the particulars of the property you have just acquired.’

  ‘Yes, Papa.’ Margaret found it difficult to follow the connection between the subjects they were discussing.

  ‘There is a dower house on the estate, I understand.’

  ‘Lower Croft. Yes. It is small, but conveniently arranged. Mr Gregson and I considered …’

  ‘Would you like it?’ interrupted her father.

  ‘I?’

  ‘It appears to me that the other buildings on the estate are quite sufficient for the women and children you wish to help. They may profit from the good air of the parkland without requiring to exercise themselves in more than a small portion of it. It occurred to me that you might care to live in the dower house. I assume that there will be a housekeeper or other responsible person in Croft House to take responsibility for the care of the inmates. But I have had the opportunity to observe that your interest in the project is a serious one. Although you are very young, I think it li
kely that you could prove yourself as competent to oversee the general running of the establishment as any paid supervisor. If this proposal is of interest to you, I will buy Lower Croft from the fund, with some acres around to preserve its privacy.’

  ‘Papa!’ At first it was astonishment which robbed Margaret of speech. Afterward, it was the need to control the tears which ridiculously threatened to flood her eyes.

  ‘You’ve had presents before without crying over them,’ said her father gruffly.

  Margaret gave an unladylike sniff.

  ‘It’s not only the gift, Papa, though indeed I am grateful for that. It’s just that – oh, Papa, I thought that no one would ever understand!’

  Even as she flung herself into his arms it occurred to her that such a confused statement was not itself much help to understanding. But that was of no importance for the moment. What mattered more was that for the first time for years her father was allowing her to embrace him, accepting the affection which she had never been encouraged to show. The moment was a brief one, and she was careful not to prolong her gesture past his tolerance of it. Returning to her own chair, she dabbed at her eyes.

  ‘I understand that you are my daughter,’ said John Junius. ‘And a worthier representative of the Lorimer Line than your younger brother. I understand also that you see yourself as a member of a family which has received many privileges from society. It is natural that you should wish to give something in return to those less privileged. In the past I have found some of your proposals unsuitable for a woman. But though I may have refused your requests, I am able to appreciate your motives.’

  It was the end of a softness not normal to his voice. When he spoke again, it was in a more businesslike manner.

  ‘When I have purchased Lower Croft I shall make it over to you directly, as a gift for your twenty-first birthday,’ he said. ‘There is nothing to be gained by putting it into a settlement, for Mr Gregson has nothing with which he can match it. If you marry Mr Gregson, he will have the advantage of it. If you do not marry him, it will still be yours.’