Later, after Bart had gone, she went to the door of Mark’s room and found it closed. She did not attempt to open it and go in for fear of waking him if he’d returned to sleep. Better to leave things as they were.
She slept restlessly that night. She knew this liaison between herself and Bart was wrong. But from another viewpoint, it had saved them both from the bleakest of lives. Now she had come to rely so much on Bart for understanding and comfort she could not give him up. If Mark had seen and understood and had been well enough to raise a fuss, she would have accepted his condemnation and would have urged him to divorce her. She had no doubt that Bart, despite his desire for the Kerr cloak of respectability, would have agreed to have Vera divorce him. Later, despite the scandal, they would have married.
She was in bed thinking about this the next morning when there was a knock on her door. She called out for whoever it was to enter, and Nurse Hazel Green came rushing into the room. The stout woman was sobbing.
“He’s gone, Mrs. Gregg! He’s gone!”
She sat up in bed. “Gone?” she echoed sharply.
“Dead, ma’am,” the stout nurse said brokenly. “When I went to him a while ago, I thought he was sleeping. So I left him. Then I went back just now, and he’s cold, ma’am! Cold in death!”
Becky threw back the clothes and reached for her dressing gown. “I’ll go to him!” Becky followed her as she quickly made her way to Mark’s room.
When she reached his bedside, his eyes were closed and his worn face was placid. It was easy to understand why the nurse had thought him asleep. It was clear he had died during the night. A stab of guilt went through her, and tears filled her eyes.
Nurse Green comforted her and placed an arm around her. “You must not feel badly, Mrs. Gregg. He passed quietly in his sleep, a wonderful way for a life to end.”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice. “I suppose so.”
“He could not have lived much longer,” the nurse went on. “Dr. Trevalyn said that only the other day. The doctor was afraid he’d have still another stroke and suffer more before he died. This way, God has been just!”
Becky nodded. “Have you told his sister?”
“Not yet.”
“Better go upstairs to her room at once,” she urged. “And break it to her gently as possible. We must keep our wits; there are many preparations to look after!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said and went on out, leaving her alone in the room with her dead husband.
She gazed down at the worn face at last in repose. She whispered, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Mark. Once there was something between us, just a small happiness for a short while. I shall treasure that memory and forget the cruel and ugly things that followed.” And she bent and touched her lips to his cold forehead. It was odd, she knew, but she felt closer to him at this moment than she had for some years.
Elizabeth came into the room still in her nightcap and dressing gown. The thin woman was crying brokenly. She brushed by Becky and knelt by her dead brother. Her head bent on his folded hands, she continued to sob.
Becky said, “Perhaps it is a blessing,”
Elizabeth turned her thin, tear-stained face upwards to gaze at her with shocking hatred. Her sister-in-law said, “I’m sure it is for you!”
She gasped. “How dare you say that?”
“I hope you wind up in a bar where you came from,” the thin woman said, her voice raised shrilly.
Becky sighed and turned to see Nurse Green standing there shocked by what she’d hear. Becky shrugged and went on out of the room. Elizabeth was so near collapse a doctor had to be fetched. Mark’s sister was no help at all in the many preparations which had to be made. Becky went about everything with a determination not to let down Mark in his final hours before burial.
Word was sent next door. Old Matthew Kerr was the first to call on her. He had grown almost thin, and his voice had become quavering. Sadly he told her, “I expected to be the first to go because of my age.”
“We can never tell about those things,” she said.
“Mark was years my junior,” the old man said with awe. “Well, the old guard will all soon vanish. You have my sympathy, my dear. The ladies will pay their respects in due time. And I’m sure Bart Woods will be by shortly. He had left for the shipyard before word reached us of this sad business.”
“I’m sure he will come,” Becky said.
And he did. He arrived in a carriage about an hour later. The undertaker was already busy preparing Mark’s body for display in a fine coffin in the great living room. So Becky saw the handsome dark man in one of the rear parlors.
After she’d closed the door, she went to Bart’s arms and he kissed her and held her close to him for a long time. She said, “He died peacefully in his sleep.”
Bart frowned, “Do you think he saw us and understood?”
“He saw us, but there was no understanding,” she said. “He probably didn’t know who we were. He’d been so lost mentally of late. I think this urge to move about must have been a last restless exertion brought on by his approaching death.”
“Then you feel he died without knowing?”
“I’m certain of it.”
Bart looked relieved. “Thank God,” he said. “I would not have wanted it to happen otherwise when I could not offer amends.”
“You must not think about it,” she said.
“How has Elizabeth taken it?”
“Badly. She suggested that I was happy he was dead!”
His eyebrows lifted. “Do you think?”
“That she suspects?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid so. It could be she has spied on your comings and goings,” Becky told him.
“I shall talk with her,” Bart said firmly.
“No,” Becky told him. “Better to say nothing. I doubt that she will want to darken the family name by bringing up such a scandal now.”
“I will not let her make your life miserable.”
“She won’t,” Becky said. “I do not propose to live on here. This house has too many bitter memories. There is a charming little brick house across the street that is for sale. I think I will buy it and move there. I’d like to live simply in a smaller place with only a single servant. This is Elizabeth’s family house; she can remain here.”
Bart showed interest. “You seem to have thought about this earlier. Before you knew Mark was going to die.”
Her eyes met his. “Yes.”
“What first gave you the idea?”
She said, “Because I’m going to have a child, Bart. Your child.”
CHAPTER 9
An uneasy truce lasted between Mark’s sister and Becky until after the funeral. A few days following the burial she confronted the thin spinster in the big living room where Mark had so recently rested in his coffin.
“I have decided to buy myself a smaller house,” she told Elizabeth.
Her sister-in-law said coldly, “Perhaps that would be best. I do not wish to share this house with you.”
Becky said, “I assumed that. The Lordley house is available nearby. I will need only a housekeeper-cook to run it. I think it will suit my needs.”
“When will you be making the move?”
“As soon as possible,” she said.
“That is satisfactory to me,” Elizabeth said coldly.
“The will Mark left makes a generous provision for you as well as for me,” Becky said. “So you will have no problem keeping up this place.”
“It will do me for the rest of my days,” the older woman said.
Becky rose and moved a step away. Then over her shoulder, she said, “There is one other thing.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. I’m going to have a baby.”
Elizabeth looked outraged. “You are what?”
“I expect a baby in the early autumn,” she said.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet, tiny patches of red on her pale cheeks. “His baby!” she
cried.
“I plan to give it Mark’s name,” she said. “I do not think he would mind.”
“Strumpet!” Elizabeth shrilled at her.
“I had to let you know,” she said, careful to control her own emotions. “I did not wish you to hear it from anyone else.”
“It is scandalous!”
“Not unless you make it so,” Becky told her. “No one can say that Mark and I weren’t active sexually, even though he was ill.”
“I know better!”
“Could you swear it in court?” she asked. “Could you take an oath that while everyone else was sleeping Mark and I did not meet in his room?”
Elizabeth gasped. “You are evil!”
“I must be when it comes to protecting Mark’s name,” she said.
“You weren’t concerned with his name when you entertained your fancy man almost every night!” the thin woman accused her.
“I will not try to explain my feelings to you. Nor the feelings of anyone else. You would not understand, in any case. I’ll only say that if there is a scandal now, if the name of Gregg is soiled, it will be you who will be responsible. Think about that!”
Elizabeth stood there enraged, wordless, and defeated!
Becky purchased the smaller house and moved into it before the month ended. She took Mrs. Atkins with her. She was a pleasant middle-aged woman capable of any household duty and the servant Becky trusted most. After the confusion of settling into the smaller place was over, she found herself both happier and healthier than she’d been in a long while.
She had a tiny, brick-walled garden in the rear of the house, and she often entertained Bart out there. It was easier for them to meet now, without the fear of Elizabeth spying on them.
One late afternoon as Bart sat for tea with her in the garden area, he said, “I wish I were free.”
“So do I,” she said, staring at him across the table. “Have you talked to Vera about this?”
“Yes,” he said, sighing. “She does not want a divorce. It seems her mother doesn’t believe in divorces. Confound it, I can never be sure whether I’m married to her or her mother!”
“Alice Kerr is a dominant woman in her quiet way,” she agreed.
“Old Matthew hardly gets out of his room now,” Bart said.
“I thought he looked poorly at the time of Mark’s funeral.”
“He’s worse now,” Bart assured her. “I shall miss him. He makes living there more bearable.”
“So you think you’ll never get a divorce?”
“That is the way it looks at the moment,” he said. “And I’m sorry. Especially under the circumstances.”
“It simply means your child will have Mark’s name.”
“That worries me,” he said. “And I’m concerned for you.”
“Gregg is a good name for the child,” she said. “And I shall manage. I have all the money I need thanks to Mark’s will and the prosperity of the business.”
“The firm is having an excellent year,” Bart said. “Brunei has agreed to design some advanced screw propellors for our firm alone. This will give us an edge on our competitors.”
“Iron steamships are sweeping sailing vessels from the sea, just as you predicted,” she said.
Bart smiled. “It is our era.”
“What of the future?”
“I can see no great changes. Improvements perhaps. That is all.”
“I wonder,” she said. “Things do seem to continually change.”
“Don’t worry about the business,” the big man told her. “Let us concentrate on our own affairs.”
“I’m enjoying this house,” she said.
Bart nodded. “I’m beginning to look on it as my true home.”
She smiled wanly. “We are a strange, lost pair. What would have happened to us if we hadn’t found each other?”
“I hate to think what my life would have been,” Bart said. “Meaningless, except for my son.”
“How is young Donald?”
“Growing more like me every day,” Bart smiled. “But I hate to think of him being brought up by Vera and her mother.”
“You know the danger,” she said. “Exert your influences on him from the start. Make yourself an important figure to him.”
“I’m planning on that.”
“Then it should be all right.”
“And your child?”
She smiled. “I have a premonition it will be a girl. Would you mind?”
“I’d be delighted,” Bart said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. Their eyes met fondly as he added, “especially if she resembles you.”
Matthew Kerr died a month later. When Becky went to pay her respects, she was greeted rather icily by the dark-veiled wife and daughter. After the funeral she had no communication with them again. Nor did she ever speak with Elizabeth. She occasionally saw her leaving for the mission or returning in her carriage, but she never had occasion to talk with her. She knew her sister-in-law wished to avoid her, and this suited her very well.
When she used a carriage these days, she either rented one or Bart sent one for her. Since his youth on the docks he had a great liking for music hall entertainment. He enjoyed nothing better than to sit and watch a good performance by a troupe of vaudeville artists. There were a number of these music halls scattered about the city, and she and Bart often attended one of them, conspicious in an audience composed largely of working class people. Bart laughed as loudly as any of them and pounded his fist in the palm of his other hand when some especially good turn amused him.
As autumn drew near and her condition became noticeable, she spent most of her time at home. Bart came to see her more frequently. They had their meals together in the small dining room of the modest house.
One night when they were well along with their meal, she asked him, “Have you heard your wife and mother-in-law discussing my condition?”
He smiled grimly. “They were both properly appalled.”
“I expected they’d make the most of it.”
“Vera made quite a scene and accused me directly,” he went on with a sigh.
“What did you answer?”
“I told her I had a right to be with you or anyone else, since she had long denied me my husbandly privileges!”
“Well said!”
“That shut her up,” Bart said. “Now the two of them go about the house with outraged looks on their thin faces. Thank goodness my son resembles me rather than that dried-up two!”
“I’m having Dr. Trevalyn,” she said. “He was Mark’s doctor.”
“He seemed a competent man.”
“I have faith in him,” she said.
“Then that is what matters,” Bart told her. “Spare no expense. I want you to have the best. Our child must come into this world with every advantage.”
“You hadn’t many advantages, and you’ve survived and done well,” she reminded him.
Bart’s handsome face became grave. “I have scars I wouldn’t want any child of mine to have.”
Becky’s premonition proved right. She gave birth to a lovely young daughter on October 15, 1865. She called her Peggy Anne. Even as a small infant, she showed a hint of Bart’s handsome features along with her own eyes and nose. She was blissfully happy!
In 1881, the Servia, a merchant vessel crossed the Atlantic in seven days. It was constructed of a new metal made from blending certain other minerals and ores with iron; it was known as steel.
In April 1884 Donald Woods finished his studies at Oxford and joined his father in the family firm. He was a tall, elegant young man with his mother’s slim build and his father’s manly good looks, and sandy-colored hair. Almost the first thing he did was call on Becky, whom he called Aunt Becky.
But Becky was not deceived that the young man’s affection was for her alone. She knew that Donald had developed a warm liking for her daugher, Anne. Thus far there had been no reason to discourage this, but now she began to be concerned for very s
ound reasons.
She had discussed this with Bart, but with his usual assurance, he’d told her, “There is no need to worry! It is right they should be good friends! They’ve grown up together!”
She looked at him very straight and asked, “What if they should fall in love and wish to marry?”
“Never!” Bart said. “They’ll find other mates.” But he sounded a trifle concerned.
At this moment Donald and Anne were out strolling in the garden, hand in hand, as he told her about his plans for joining the business. It seemed innocent enough, and she did not wish to take a stand against the two young people seeing each other, yet she was under constant fear of what might ensue if they should announce their affection and ask permission to marry.
She had made sure that Anne met many other young men while Donald was away at Oxford. So her daughter was not without a great many beaux. She did not know how many young ladies Doanld had courted, but she hoped that he had many of them on the string, with Vera so repressive and his grandmother still alive and whining about the unhappy changes which were taking place in the Victorian age. Old Alice Kerr was even shocked by the rumored romance between the widowed Queen Victoria and her Scot’s farm manager, John Brown.
Bart quoted his mother-in-law as grieving, “The Queen has changed along with everything else. Who would have expected it of her?”
She and Bart had enjoyed a hearty laugh at this. The years had been kind to them. They had the same warm affection for each other as the usual man and wife. Vera had accepted the situation and no longer even spoke of it. Becky was sure that both Donald and her daughter knew that Bart and she were lovers. She believed they were rather thrilled by the longtime romance. The physical excitement had paled, and now it was merely a matter of sound friendship between she and Bart. It seemed nothing would ever upset them, until this small cloud of the future of the two young people came upon them.
As the two young people continued to stroll in the garden she halted before the oval, gold-framed mirror on the living room wall and gazed at herself in it. She was actually forty-two years old! As a girl she had thought this to be bordering on the elderly!
But she didn’t look old! Her face was a little rounder and there were a few lines at her eyes and mouth, but her skin was still fresh and her eyes had a sparkle. She was often taken for a woman much younger, and this could not help but give her confidence. Best of all there was no gray in her hair, except perhaps a few strands which she was careful to conceal.
Vintage Love Page 111