Ravenscraig

by Sandi Krawchenko Altner

  Winnipeg. It sounded as far away as the moon.

  Chapter Five

  Rupert’s Surprise

  October 11, 1895

  Rupert stood in front of his full-length mirror and was pleased to see that the scar on his neck was now completely hidden. That twit of a tailor had been so difficult; Rupert had all but marched out of his shop. But now he could clearly see that having stood his ground with the sorry little man had indeed paid off. The alterations that he had insisted be made to his shirt collar and evening coat were exactly right and the end result was a bold reflection of Rupert’s very individual sense of fashion.

  Every last detail of the evening ahead mattered. For Rupert control wasn’t a need, it was a compulsion. Tonight he would present Ravenscraig to his wife. He chuckled at his own cleverness in the elaborate arrangements for the surprise. Everything had been planned to the last detail: every flower choice, every menu item, and every song the orchestra would play had come under Rupert’s direct supervision.

  Rupert looked at the clock on the mantle and saw how quickly the time was slipping away. “Are you ready, Beth darling? We must be on our way soon,” he called down the hall to his wife’s dressing room.

  “Yes, dearest,” came the cheery reply. “I just need another few minutes. I won’t be late.”

  “Excellent, my dear.”

  As he finished dressing, Rupert anticipated the evening ahead with growing excitement. An illustrious gathering of guests would applaud his elaborate surprise. He would be the talk of the town. Everyone who was anyone would know his name.

  Sir Roderick had proved to be a most resourceful and valuable ally. He had taken charge of the invitation list and kept the true location a secret. The invitation was to a concert at Stonebridge Manor, the Ballantyne residence, conveniently located just a short distance from Ravenscraig. Rupert had enjoyed the weeks of secrecy. Twenty-four couples were invited, all of them quite rich, some of them terribly interesting. How could they not be impressed with his new home?

  Named for a castle in Scotland, Ravenscraig Hall wasn’t just grand, it was conspicuously showy. It was of unique design and though perhaps somewhat austere on first appearance, it compared to nothing else in Winnipeg. While not the largest home in the city, it was of considerable size and had many fine features to facilitate elegant entertaining.

  Rupert thought of its gardens and expansive lawns along the river; he could see only endless opportunity before him as he imagined champagne and caviar and the constant parade of beautifully dressed women attending his future garden parties. Rupert adored parties. Parties drew women like flowers drew butterflies and Rupert was at his best when showered with feminine attention.

  He considered himself truly gifted in his appeal to the weaker sex. He stood out not just because he was unusually handsome and confident, but also because of the valuable lessons in gentility that he had learned during his youth in Atlanta. As a young man, Rupert had paid close attention to the ways of southern men and learned by their example. Often, just for fun, he would slip in a bit of a southern accent. As this was so rarely heard in Canada, it seemed to be especially appealing to the ladies.

  In time, he had developed a technique of taking a woman’s hand and staring through her until her breath quickened before offering a greeting with a voice that rumbled forth from a place deep within her imagination. Slowly his smile would reveal perfectly straight teeth and the presence of dimples, which one admirer had told him were his most alluring feature. They were not boyish ones, she told him, but distinct masculine creases that hinted at a wild passion for life one suspected could only be seen under the most intimate of circumstances.

  As he held a woman’s hand in this way in greeting, she would flush at the penetrating feeling of his gaze locking onto hers, his dark eyes smoldering in appreciation for her loveliness. He would wait and sometimes she would come to the edge of a swoon with small sounds emitting from her lips. His eyes would glide over her breasts as he bowed and brought her hand to his face, the warmth of his breath raising goose bumps on delicate white arms. Then his mouth would open, ever so slightly, and he would gently press his full lips to her skin. The response became predictable. Heaving bosoms rose behind fluttering fans while batting eyelashes spoke of a yearning for promises to be made.

  Rupert truly relished the pursuit and enjoyed each encounter immensely. There were many beautiful women, and many unforgettable moments, in those early years, but he needed a woman with money more than he needed a beauty. Time and time again, the teardrops fell, as Rupert kissed the ladies good-bye and continued on his quest to find the perfect wife.

  And finally, he did find her. Her name was Elizabeth Jane Biggleswade and he found her in a Toronto newspaper.

  The only child of a Montreal businessman who had made his first fortune in the fur trade and his second on the railroad, Miss Biggleswade had traveled to Toronto to visit her aunt, a blueblood matron of the upper class. To Rupert’s advantage, every tea, luncheon, concert, and excursion that Beth had attended had been reported in the society pages in great detail. From what he had learned, he had determined the young lady to be an ideal candidate for his master plan.

  Fortunately her travel plans were also published allowing Rupert to engineer an impressive first meeting. He had planned every step of his pursuit of Beth with great care and calculation, from their “fateful” first hello, through every encounter that followed. He lavished attention on her with small gifts and romantic letters. Three months later, he asked her to marry him and she had almost fainted with joy in declaring her love for him.

  The greatest difficulty was Beth’s father, who had very nearly derailed his plan from the start. Byron Biggleswade had been very disappointed that his only child was not going to marry one of the fine young men of her own class who had sought her affection and had a good deal to say to her about it. He told her that he could see little potential in Rupert, that he didn’t trust him, and that a man who had not yet finished university had no business proposing marriage. He was aghast at Beth’s poor judgment.

  Beth threw a terrible fit and threatened to enter a convent if her father didn’t grant permission for her to marry Rupert. The old man held fast and forbade his daughter to see her beloved. The house grew cold under the mournful wailings of the heartbroken Beth. By the third week of what he had described to his wife as “interminable caterwauling”, Mr. Biggleswade relented. Beth leaped for joy and the marriage date was announced. Both parents cried at their daughter’s very tasteful wedding, but only one had tears of joy.

  After all of their years together, it was plain to Rupert that Beth still adored him, so things had worked out rather well for both of them. He still did, on occasion, think it unfortunate that she wasn’t prettier, but when dressed properly, she was attractive enough.

  The clock ticked and the afternoon light was disappearing. He hated to be kept waiting. Why on earth was that woman always late?

  “Beth, dearest, we really must be going,” he called out, working to keep the impatience out of his voice.

  “Rupert,” Beth sang out, “could you help me with my pearls, darling? Where are you, Rupert?”

  “I’m here, my dear.” He marched briskly down the hallway to her dressing room, anxious to get her into the carriage and on their way. “Beth, sugar, we really can’t keep our hosts waiting.”

  She heard his annoyance and her eyes flashed hurt. He immediately checked his attitude, needing her to be at her charming best this evening, as so many people would evaluate his worth on his choice of a wife. Rupert stepped back and swept his arms wide, his eyes warm and sensual as he let out a low soft whistle.

  “Oh, my dear, sweet li’l darlin’, would you look at how beautiful you are.”

  “Oh, Rupert, do you think this dress too formal for an at home concert?” She felt naked under the heat of his gaze and blushed.

  “You are a vision of beauty.” He kissed her cheek and guided her shoulders toward the mirro
r so that she could watch him nuzzle her ear while he fastened the necklace. “Now, we really must be on our way.”

  “Well, Rupert,” she giggled, “it is just divine to see you have so much enthusiasm for a musical event. I must be a wonderful influence on you.”

  “You’ve been a wonderful influence on me since the day I first laid eyes on you in Toronto. It feels like only yesterday.”

  Beth felt her heart quicken with the effect of Rupert’s unexpected attention. This was going to be such a delicious evening.

  “Here we are fifteen years later, my darling,” she purred. “I think of that day at the train station. I was so sad to be leaving Toronto. Then suddenly there was this handsome prince, striding toward me.” She angled her head coyly and smiled up at him. “You seemed to emerge from the steam on the platform as if arriving from my dreams. It was so romantic. You smiled at me and tipped your hat, and my heart flew away.”

  He’d heard her tell the story many times but looked at her as if it was the first time. He kissed the tip of her nose and drew back again to admire her dress as she sashayed before him. The skirt fell in delicate folds of blue silk. The bodice was tightly fitted and held forth her bosom, framed prettily in a delicate French lace. She knew he would approve.

  “My dear, you look absolutely stunning in aqua,” he declared.

  “Well, thank you. Aren’t we unusually playful, Rupert?” she teased. “You look like you have something to tell me. Do you have a secret, darling?”

  “My secret is that I have the most wonderful wife in the world.”

  Beth laughed gaily and pretended his words were true. She knew better, but all the same, she enjoyed these little plays of affection he gifted her with from time to time.

  Beth gave quick instructions regarding the children to Mrs. Butterfield, the housekeeper, while Rupert stood before the hallway mirror adjusting his new top hat. He had never owned one before and was particularly pleased with the effect. Then with an approving nod from Beth, he whisked her out the door.

  Henry, their coachman, brought the horses into a well-schooled trot along the avenue and Rupert waved to the children they passed along the way. He waved as if he were in a parade on his way to Buckingham Palace. He loved an open carriage. It felt so utterly rich.

  “Oh, I do love that the weather has turned warm again, Rupert,” Beth smiled. “The light breeze and the fragrance of fall in the air make for a delightfully pleasant time of the year.”

  Beth wondered what favor he would be seeking of her this time. She wished it were true that he really did love her in the way he pretended. But, at least she had claimed him as her husband.

  That was her goal all those years ago, was it not? And they had stayed married, despite her father’s stern warnings, and despite the wake of jealous women. She knew her money helped, and that without the wealth her father bestowed upon her, she would never have had the chance to marry such an attractive man. Rupert could have chosen a wife from quite a list of Toronto’s fine families. His rugged good looks and highly polished manners were greatly attractive to the debutantes despite his lack of social standing. She was certain of it. It wasn’t his fault he was an orphan. Beth had known from the start that he would make an excellent lawyer, and her secret investment in his education had paid off. How could she possibly have said no to his request? It had all worked out splendidly. Now, like so many lawyers, Rupert had turned into a fine businessman. A good life had its price, and if her money had won his heart before all else, well, so be it. It elevated her above all of the other women who had set eyes on Rupert. She would always love him more than he cared for her. She knew this to be a simple truth of their union. No matter. A woman couldn’t expect to have everything. Four children later, her husband was finally starting to see his business succeed and perhaps soon they would be able to advance to the upper echelons of Winnipeg society.

  For this very reason, Lady Ballantyne’s invitation to the concert at Stonebridge Manor had sent Beth’s spirits soaring. That so important a family had extended them this honor was indeed a sign of great significance. In Montreal, as a child, Beth had taken the social prominence of her family for granted. Here in Winnipeg she was invisible, an appendage of a husband who had not yet been welcomed into the upper crust. One had to hold one’s head high and look to the future. Perhaps she and Lady Ballantyne would become friends. Perhaps the doyenne would even invite her to address her as Annabella this evening. Things were so much more casual in the West, after all. Beth smiled and reached for Rupert’s hand.

  The autumn leaves had matured into a spectacular array of yellow and orange. It could not have been a prettier drive, if he had planned it. Rupert’s thoughts turned to his new mansion and the evening ahead on Assiniboine Avenue. He almost laughed out loud at his cleverness in being able to keep his secret from Beth. She had no idea that they were not actually guests, but rather the hosts of this grand party. There would be a musical performance tonight by Ray Barrowclough’s celebrated chamber orchestra followed by a seven-course dinner. Rupert had studied the backgrounds of every one of the men Ballantyne had suggested for the invitation list and was thoroughly prepared to impress each of them.

  Having been wrapped up for so long in orchestrating the elaborate scheme, Rupert was surprised to find that he was actually looking forward to Beth’s reaction to Ravenscraig. They would have precisely forty-five minutes to see the house before their guests started to arrive. He knew at once that Beth would object to certain features of the mansion, and although she might pout in private, she would sooner be struck dead than be seen off her game in public. Without the slightest doubt, Rupert knew she would rise to being a superlative hostess. She could absolutely be counted on to save her true feelings and any temper tantrums for a private explosion before him later. In the meantime, Rupert couldn’t lose. He would have the fine residence he wanted and Beth would eventually come around. He knew she would find the house overly large, and perhaps a bit cold in appearance, but he was sure she would love the conservatory overlooking the Assiniboine River. It would be a wonderful room for her to enjoy her backgammon games and to entertain her bridge club.

  Rupert had stopped short of notifying the local papers, thinking that some of his guests might find it bad form to have a reporter at his party. It was very tempting but just too much of a risk. He would save the opportunity for another occasion.

  Beth slipped her arm through her husband’s and drew closer. Perhaps this was the first of many events they would attend in Armstrong’s Point. She breathed in the fragrant air and smiled at her handsome Rupert.

  The roadway took a wide and gentle curve to the left through the trees, following the bend in the river. Henry turned right and drove the carriage through a second gate, which brought them onto a large circular driveway. An imposing grey structure that seemed capable of withstanding cannon fire rose before them. Beth was astonished at the sight. Constructed of stone and dark brick, the house stood three stories high. Flat across the front, it had a row of gabled dormers marching evenly along the roofline, much like one might see on a prison. Small, carved limestone heads sporting bulging eyes and tongues lashing over knobby teeth jutted out between the second story windows. Two garishly large turrets anchored the front corners of the house, but did little to balance the appearance of a gargantuan porte-cochere that reached out to claw in approaching carriages on the driveway.

  “Oh, my,” Beth gawked. “Rupert, are those gargoyles?”

  Rupert felt his back stiffen and took a full breath to slow his pulse rate. Beth craned her neck to get a better look.

  “Good God. It looks like an insane asylum. Does it have a moat?” Beth blurted out the words and her hand flew to her mouth. She was shocked at the possibility that she might have been overheard through an open window. Rupert grappled with the realization that he had perhaps underestimated her potential objections. He clenched his jaw then smiled into her wide-eyed expression.

  “It’s the lack of greener
y, my dear. It looks a bit severe perhaps because it is so large. The house is new and it has not yet had the benefit of a properly developed garden. It is obviously very expensive, wouldn’t you agree? Imagine it covered with vines. Don’t you think it would be rather charming?” Rupert sensed he may have been starting to sound overly enthusiastic and stopped talking.

  “My heavens, Rupert, why are we here?” Beth whispered. “This can’t possibly be Stonebridge. This is nothing like I have heard it described. Are we providing a ride for someone?”

  Henry pulled up under the porte-cochere and stopped. Rupert felt his left eye taking on a twitch as he looked at his wife and willed her to say something pleasant. Beth shrank back and stared at the great stone steps leading to the heavy front door. Flanked by a pair of large glass lanterns that suggested perches for vultures, the heavy door was complete with oversized black iron rings for doorknockers. “You do think it rather impressive, don’t you darling?” he asked optimistically, hearing only his heartbeat in return.

  “It’s absolutely hideous. I’ve never seen anything so horrible. Who lives here?” she asked through her teeth.

  “The Ballantynes?” He forced a laugh and hopped down from the carriage. Beth immediately realized that she was in danger of ruining the entire evening. She could sense that Rupert was on the edge of becoming very upset with her. Whatever his reasons, he wanted her to like this monstrous mansion. Well, fine, it wasn’t as if she had to live in it. And she wasn’t about to lose the magic of being the center of his attention. It was so rare for him to treat her so affectionately. She quickly reached out and gave him a little tap with her fan and laughed joyfully. How merry he looked tonight. Why not play along with his little game?