She had been relieved, even glad, to leave for their honeymoon as soon as it was possible to do so politely without giving offence to the Bells. They had been kind, exceedingly generous, and she did not wish them to think she was unappreciative. Naturally, Vincent had wanted to stay longer, he being the social animal that he was.
Audra shifted slightly on the tartan rug, stretched out her legs in front of her and reached for a piece of the Wensleydale cheese, nibbling on it absently, trying to dismiss thoughts of Gwen. She found she could not.
Her best friend disliked her husband.
That was the sad truth, and it troubled Audra a great deal. Unfortunately, Gwen had taken a dislike to Vincent months before she had actually met him—her words on Bonfire Night still echoed in Audra’s ears. It was all because of Charlie, of course. Gwen had condemned Vincent without bothering to get to know him, simply because he had been chosen instead of her brother.
How immature Gwen is being, Audra thought. She was disappointed in Gwen; she had certainly expected better of her friend. Having cherished their friendship from the day it had begun, she was upset that it was threatened. But it was Gwen, not she, who was putting it in jeopardy. She loved Gwen; she did not want to lose her. But she also loved her husband. If she and Gwen were going to continue to see each other, Gwen would have to be more amiable with Vincent. He came first now. And Vincent, being oblivious to the girl’s dislike of him, was always friendly and cordial to her. In Audra’s opinion, he should have received better treatment from her friend.
Swallowing a sigh, Audra leaned back on her elbows, thinking hard. She must find a way to show her how unfair she was being. Audra did not want Gwen to be a casualty of her marriage. She was going to see Gwen as soon as possible, talk to her about this. I shall have to be diplomatic, Audra thought, and immediately began to rehearse what she would say.
For his part, Vincent was ruminating on High Cleugh.
Ever since they had arrived on the slope he had been stealing glances at it. The old house was now in his direct line of vision across the river, and he felt a compulsion to bring his gaze back to it time and again. And as he did he could not help thinking of the little cottage he and Audra had found in Upper Armley and which they had rented a month ago.
When they had stumbled on it, quite by accident one day, he had considered them most fortunate. The cottage was sturdy, in good repair, and convenient for his work. But suddenly it had lost its appeal. How small and insignificant it was in comparison to High Cleugh where his wife had been born and brought up. What he was offering her was so much less.
He gazed at her appraisingly and with a flash of unprecedented objectivity. How pretty she was in her buttercup-yellow dress, fresh and sweet and desirable in every way. She had so many different and laudable attributes. He was convinced she was going to make him the very best wife. Although he was never given to much introspection, Vincent sank down into his thoughts, contemplating Audra.
If the circumstances of her life had been different she would never have been permitted to marry him.
This unanticipated thought shook Vincent to the core. The fact that her family would have objected to her marrying him had never occurred to him before, but now that it had he knew he was absolutely correct in this assumption, and this knowledge depressed him. He remembered his mother’s dire words. ‘Asking for trouble, that’s what you are, my lad,’ she had said. ‘If you marry her you’ll rue the day.’ Laurette had been against their marriage too, even though she liked Audra a lot. ‘You’re from two different worlds,’ his sister had said when he had challenged her about her views. ‘It’s not going to work. She’s a lady born and bred.’
In an effort to convince Laurette that this did not matter he had told her about Audra’s hard life as a ward maid, the drudgery of her demanding work as a nurse at the Fever Hospital. She had gaped at him, incredulous. ‘Don’t be such a fool, Vincent, what’s that got to do with anything! Her breeding and her gentility will always be part of her. She’s different from you and me, from us, and believe me, that difference makes a big difference.’
Always quick to flare up at the slightest thing, he had flown into a temper and stormed out, bristling with anger. And he had been put out with his favourite sister for weeks. Vincent had a strong mind of his own, and so he had gone about his business, done as he had seen fit. And he had seen fit to marry Audra despite the opposition from his family, which she knew nothing about.
Vincent was still convinced that his mother and his sister were wrong. Surely it was of no great consequence that he and Audra were from different backgrounds. They loved each other. That was all that counted, wasn’t it?
Audra, her eyes on Vincent, sensed a change in him. She said, ‘Are you all right? You look a bit funny.’
‘Oh I’m fine, love,’ he said, then laughed somewhat shakily.
‘You looked quite troubled a moment ago. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you, Vincent?’
He forced a bright smile. ‘Never felt better,’ he exclaimed and thought to add, ‘I’m sorry that this is the last day of our honeymoon, that it’s over.’
‘Not quite.’ She kissed his cheek, gazed into his face, loving him with her eyes. ‘We’ve still got the whole of today, and this evening in Harrogate. We’ll have a lovely dinner for your birthday at the White Swan. It’s a pretty hotel, you’ll enjoy staying there.’
Audra sat back, tipped her head to one side, went on, ‘Even though our honeymoon will come to an end tomorrow, our life together is only just beginning, Vincent. Think about that… and I know we’re going to have a wonderful life, you and I.’
‘Yes,’ he said, relaxing.
Audra suddenly grew animated and talkative, and there was a new vivacity about her as they finished their picnic. She spoke to Vincent at length about their future, and was full of enthusiasm for all the good things she believed it held in store for them.
CHAPTER 13
‘Do you see anything that belongs to you, Audra?’ Vincent asked, swinging his green gaze around the drawing room of The Grange.
‘Those two oil paintings on either side of the French windows and the watercolour on that side wall,’ she said. ‘They’re by my father. If you look at them closely you’ll find they’re signed Adrian Kenton.’
Vincent strode across the floor, peered at the two beautiful landscapes and then at the still life, and nodded his head. He pivoted to face Audra, who hovered near the fireplace. ‘What else is yours?’
‘Most of the wood pieces in here… the inlaid chest next to the door, these two small Sheraton tables, and the console over there, oh, and the Meissen clock on it. There are two Chippendale-style chairs, but those must be in another room. She also has my mother’s Georgian silver tea service, some smaller pieces of silver and three more paintings, but only one of those is by my father.’ A confident smile struck Audra’s mouth and she patted her handbag. ‘I have my inventory in here, and the one for the jewellery, so I’m well armed—’ Audra stopped, focused on the door as it opened.
Vincent did the same. He was riddled with curiosity about the woman he was going to meet. He had heard a few things about her from Audra, and he did not like what he had heard.
Alicia Drummond paused on the threshold.
Vincent, observing the middle-aged woman with quickening interest, thought: Narrow. Everything about her is narrow. Eyes, nose, mouth, face and body. He did not even question that she was narrow-minded as well; he had already surmised that from Audra’s comments about her.
Audra, who had not seen her relative for almost six years, was startled. She decided that Alicia Drummond had not only aged considerably in this time, but looked as if she were ill. The woman was drawn, haggard even, and excessively thin; her stony black eyes were sunken into their sockets. Wispy grey hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore a drab brown silk dress that was unbecoming.
Closing the door behind her, Alicia walked into the room with her usual sedate stiffness. Sh
e said fretfully, in her high-pitched voice, ‘Hello, Audra. When you wrote to me two weeks ago you didn’t say you’d be bringing someone with you. I expected you to be alone. I was most surprised when the maid told me you were accompanied by—’ She surveyed Vincent, her eyes filling with curiosity and speculation, and finished, ‘Your young man.’ It came out sounding more like a question than a statement of fact.
Audra said briskly, ‘Good afternoon, Aunt Alicia. I would like to introduce my husband to you. This is Vincent Crowther. Vincent, this is my mother’s first cousin, Alicia Drummond.’
Alicia, rarely at a loss for words, was momentarily speechless. Husband, she thought, utterly amazed. This smartly dressed, good-looking young man was married to dull, insignificant little Audra. It hardly seemed possible.
Stepping forward, Vincent thrust out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Drummond.’
‘How do you do,’ Alicia responded, her cold eyes weighing him up. Vincent spoke nicely and there was only the merest trace of the broad Yorkshire accent in his vowels, but Alicia caught it. Working-class, more than likely, she commented to herself. Well, that explained everything.
Waving a hand airily, in the direction of the sofa, Alicia murmured, ‘Do sit down, both of you.’ She herself perched on the edge of a chair and gave her attention to Audra. ‘Why didn’t you let us know you were getting married?’
Ignoring the question, which she considered to be ridiculous under the circumstances, Audra said, ‘We spent our honeymoon at Robin Hood’s Bay, and as I knew we’d be passing close by on our return to Leeds, I thought it would be a good idea to come and see you. I wanted Vincent to meet you, since—’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘Since he’ll be coming back next Saturday. With a van, to—’
‘A van.’ Alicia sounded perplexed.
‘Yes. He’ll be coming to collect my things.’
‘Things?’
‘Yes, my things, Aunt Alicia. Or perhaps I should say my mother’s things, which have belonged to me since her death and which you have been… storing here, shall we say?’
‘Gracious me, Audra, don’t tell me you’re planning to go to the expense of hiring a van to come all this way—from Leeds, you say?—to pick up a few odd bits of valueless furniture.’
‘Valueless,’ Audra echoed, giving her a sharp stare. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Oh, I would. They’re not worth much.’
‘Whatever they’re worth I want them. I wish to have my mother’s things around me. Besides, they belong to me—and have for a long time.’
‘It seems to me that a couple of old tables hardly merit such enormous effort,’ Alicia scoffed. Adopting a scornful expression, she swung to Vincent. ‘Imagine hiring a van to come and pick up a few sticks of worthless furniture. Audra is being quite ridiculous, in my opinion. What a waste of money. I’m sure you agree.’
‘Audra wants her things,’ Vincent said quietly, but with great firmness. ‘And anything Audra wants I’m going to make sure she gets.’
‘Quite,’ Alicia sniffed, looking down her nose at him.
‘There’s the matter of the jewellery, Aunt Alicia. I will take that with me today,’ Audra announced.
Alicia opened her mouth, immediately closed it, conscious of the grim determination glittering in Audra’s eyes, the implacable curve of her mouth. ‘I’m not sure the jewellery is here,’ she improvised. ‘If I remember correctly, my mother took it to her house for safekeeping.’
‘You’re not sure,’ Audra repeated. Her expression hardened. ‘I would think you’d be scrupulously careful with other people’s possessions. I’m also rather surprised you didn’t get in touch with me yourself weeks ago. You knew I’d be twenty-one at the beginning of this month, that I was coming of age, and was therefore legally entitled to what’s mine.’ Audra’s laugh was soft but knowing. ‘Actually, there was no good reason why I shouldn’t have had my mother’s things years ago. My—’
‘You weren’t married years ago,’ Alicia cut in, sounding defensive. ‘What would you have done with the furniture? Where would you have put it?’
‘I’m talking about my mother’s jewellery,’ Audra exclaimed. ‘And I was about to say that my former employer, Mrs Irène Bell, said exactly the same thing only a couple of weeks ago. Both she and Mr Bell were amazed you hadn’t been in touch with me early in May, to find out what I wanted to do about my possessions. Mr Bell’s a solicitor, extremely well known in Leeds, and he’s very conscious of legalities, all that sort of thing.’ Audra let her narrowed blue gaze linger on the other woman pointedly.
Alicia flushed, grew uncomfortable under this fixed and probing scrutiny. Ever since she had received Audra’s letter she had been put out. She was reluctant to relinquish the girl’s valuables and she had been scheming to keep them. But now she was reconsidering her moves. She had no desire to become entangled with a solicitor, or with this husband, who looked as if he could turn difficult at the slightest provocation. Striving to hide her irritation, Alicia stood up. Clearing her throat, she muttered, ‘There is the possibility that my mother spoke about removing the jewellery to her house, to look after it for you, but that she never got around to doing so. My memory’s not what it used to be, I’m afraid. It could still be here. Perhaps I had better go upstairs and check.’
‘Yes, that would be wise,’ Audra said.
Alicia hurried out, cursing Audra under her breath. She had not bargained for solicitors and husbands. The girl had caught her off guard.
The minute they were alone, Vincent said in a quiet voice, ‘She’s a right crafty devil, that one.’
‘I know, and she’s trying to steal my things,’ Audra murmured, also keeping her voice low.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t let her. Anyway, I bet she’s afraid you’ll bring Mr Bell down on her if she does anything wrong. I noticed the way her face changed when you mentioned he was a noted Leeds solicitor.’
‘Yes.’
Audra sat back on the sofa, glanced around, disliking this room as much as she disliked the entire house and those who lived in it. She thought of the cruel things Alicia Drummond had done to her in the past and a coldness settled over her heart like a hoarfrost. Unexpectedly, an image of her brothers saying goodbye to her as they set out for Australia leapt into her mind and with such vividness she stiffened. Then that awful sense of loss gripped her. She snapped her eyes shut, wondering if she would ever be free of this distressing feeling. Surely she would. After all, she was no longer alone. She had Vincent. He was her family now. Opening her eyes, she swung her head to look at him.
He met her gaze, noticed the bright blueness of her eyes dulling as a sadness crept into them. He squeezed her hand, said, ‘This place upsets you and it gives me the willies. Let’s scram as soon as you’ve finished your business with the old battle-axe.’
Audra nodded.
The two of them sat together on the sofa in silence, holding hands, waiting.
It was not very long before Alicia Drummond returned, carrying the wooden jewellery box. She brought it straight to Audra, thrust it at her rudely. ‘Here it is,’ she snapped. ‘No doubt you want to check, to make sure nothing is missing. And quite frankly, I would prefer you to do so. I don’t want to be accused of misappropriating your property—at a later date.’
There was no response from Audra.
She sat staring down at the box on her lap. How familiar it was. It had always stood on the dresser in her mother’s bedroom at High Cleugh. Sometimes, when she had been a child and playing at dressing up in her mother’s clothes, she had been allowed to dip into it, to take out a pin or a brooch or a pendant to wear for a while.
After a moment, she raised the lid, filling with relief now that she had these most personal things of her mother’s in her hands at last. She began to sort through the items in the box, fingering each one lovingly. She thought of her mother’s elegance and grace, smiled to herself as innumerable memories flooded her, touched
off as they were by the different pieces.
She picked up her mother’s engagement ring set with three tiny diamonds and gazed at it. My mother wore this for most of her life, Audra thought, and now I shall wear it. She slipped it on the third finger of her right hand and as she did she experienced a sense of deep satisfaction. She felt as though the ring brought her mother closer; it was like a link to the past. And this pleased her.
Audra had no need to refer to the inventory, since she knew it by heart. The jewellery was intact. Nothing had been taken. And whether or not Alicia Drummond had been wearing it all these years and was suddenly beside the point. The box and its contents were now hers, and rightfully so, and this was the only thing of any importance.
Placing the box on the sofa between her and Vincent, Audra opened her handbag and took out the other inventory. Directing her gaze at Alicia, she said, ‘This is the list of my mother’s furniture and silver and paintings which are in this house. I’ll leave it for you to look over later. Vincent will come back with two of his brothers next Saturday morning to collect everything. At about ten o’clock. I hope that’s convenient?’
Mortified, Alicia could only nod.
Audra placed the piece of paper on one of the Sheraton occasional tables, and went on, ‘In the meantime, I thought we could take my father’s paintings with us today. We have the motor car and they’ll fit nicely in the back.’
Wanting to be finished with the business, and get Audra away from this depressing house, Vincent sprang up, interjected, ‘I’d better start taking them off the walls.’ He glanced at Alicia, explained, ‘I know which pictures were painted by Audra’s father, she already pointed them out to me.’
Alicia Drummond thought she had turned to stone.
She could neither speak nor move. She simply gaped at Vincent, watched transfixed as he removed one of the oils, leaned it against a chair, then walked over to the other one, reached his hands up for it.
It was then that something cracked in Alicia Drummond. Years of rigid self-control fell away. ‘Don’t touch my paintings! Don’t you dare touch it!’ she cried, leaping up, rushing across the room, all semblance of dignity evaporating. She grabbed Vincent’s arm roughly, peered into his face, shouted with mounting rage, ‘Don’t you dare touch any of my paintings!’
Act of Will Page 14