But the unhappy girl’s face wore a radiant smile. “Such a lovely wedding! The most wonderful moment of my life. I was there and stayed for it all!”
Joy worried, “I fear you over taxed yourself.”
Rachel had a coughing fit. Then managed, “It was worth it.”
She asked, “Do you expect Dr. Hastings?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “This is his day.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “You’re feverish and coughing too much.”
“I don’t mind,” Rachel said. “How did the party go?”
“Very well.”
Rachel said, “I watched George at the altar as he made his vows. I know he’ll make you a good husband.”
“Of course he will,” Joy said quietly.
A little later, Dr. John Hastings arrived. He nodded to Joy and said, “The bride! I’m surprised you and Sir George didn’t go away for a few days.”
“It wasn’t convenient.”
“I see,” he said. “I disliked missing the party. But I enjoyed seeing Rachel home.”
“You have been so good to me,” Rachel said and began another fit of coughing.
The doctor gave Joy a significant look and then at once began an examination of the sick girl. Later he and Joy left the sickroom together.
When they were safely out of Rachel’s hearing, she gave him a troubled glance and said, “I’m alarmed at her condition, doctor.”
His manner was somber. “You have a right to be. She is worse.”
“Don’t desert her, Doctor!”
“That is the last thing I shall do,” John Hastings said. “I’m always at your call, Lady Nason.”
In the days that followed, few visitors appeared at the old mansion. Joy felt it might be because they knew George’s sister was so ill, or perhaps the tradition that young newlyweds ought to be left to themselves. The period of adjustment. She was beginning to fear that such an adjustment might be long in coming or even impossible.
The experience of her wedding night had been unpleasant but worse had followed. George almost regularly came home in a drunken, bad humor. She feared that Rachel might learn of this, and went to great lengths to protect her from the grim business.
She still felt the sick girl was beginning to be suspicious. Once, in the midst of a quite different discussion, Rachel had suddenly asked, “Are you and George happy? Be truthful!”
“How odd of you to ask such a question!” she had replied, parrying the query with this comment.
George also made ominous complaints about not being treated fairly at his work. And he had a habit of showing off before the servants at her expense. He pretended she was being mean with the household accounts when the truth was that he gave her less than enough to pay their bills. Further, he seemed unduly attracted to one of the pretty maids, Anne.
He even complained that she was proving an uninteresting bed partner. She suspected this was because in his usual half drunk state he was unable to properly perform his duties as a husband. There were scenes, and cruel comments on his part which often left her alone in her bedroom weeping.
Her mother called on her, and worried about her living under the same roof with the dying Rachel. Her mother warned her, “You know how catching consumption can be!”
“We take every precaution,” Joy insisted.
“You don’t look well,” her mother said grimly. “And I’ve been hearing scandalous stories about your husband’s actions. He is causing much gossip.”
“I know, mother,” she said quietly.
Lady Susan sighed. “If he mistreats you I demand that you let your father and I know. We will not have you mistreated!”
“Don’t worry!” she told her.
After her mother left, Joy went to her bedroom and stared at herself in the mirror of her dresser. She saw that it was true. She looked ill and old. The strain of living with the moody George was showing.
A few nights later he came home less drunk than usual, but behaving in a strange manner. He complained of weariness early in the evening, and suggested they retire. He saw her to her bedroom and kissed her goodnight. She felt his trembling with passion and knew he was expecting a session of lovemaking.
“I shall return shortly,” he said in a thick voice.
Something in all this alarmed her. Shortly after, he entered in his dressing gown with an uneasy look on his handsome face. In his hand he held a horsewhip with a long thin lash.
He came close to her, and with a harsh voice ordered her, “Take the whip!”
She stared at him puzzled. “Why?”
“You’ll know soon enough!” he said, and took off his robe, standing before her nude. “I want you to whip me as hard as you can! On the buttocks and the back!”
She shook her head. “I can’t!”
“I need to be excited, you little fool!” he snarled, pushing the whip on her.
Joy stumbled back. “I hate you!”
“Then whip me!”
In a shocked state she used the whip. He urged her on until his buttocks and back were lined with great purple welts! Then he cried for her to stop, tore off her nightgown and savagely took her.
When it was over he abruptly left her. She lay sobbing, aware that her marriage had turned into a nightmare. She longed to confide in someone, seek help, but her pride would not let her do this.
Then one afternoon an apologetic, young man came to the house with a suitcase. The maid showed him into the living room and notified Joy.
When she entered the room and asked, “What can I do for you?”
The young man rose and said, “I’m from the newspaper.”
She smiled. “Won’t you sit down.”
He looked uneasy. “I’m only here to bring back some things Sir George left at our office.”
“Left at your office?” she echoed.
The young man looked more uncomfortable. “The owner asked me to bring them here. You see Sir George has not been at the newspaper for some time. He is no longer employed with us.”
Stifling her shock, she said, “That is kind of you. Thank you.” She fought to hold back her tears. But as soon as she saw him out, she fled weeping to her bedroom.
At the same time, Rachel’s condition became worse. She lapsed into a coma-like state. Joy could not even talk to the sick girl. When her husband returned that night, she challenged him, “What about your job?”
His face crimsoned. “I can make a better living in the gambling salons.”
“That is utter nonsense!”
George sneered at her. “Don’t be so self-righteous. If I had a happier marriage I might have tried harder.”
“That is a lie!” she told him. But he didn’t wait to hear her. He rushed out of the room and away from the house.
Invitations came for the marriage of James and Hilda. She wrote them both notes explaining she could not attend the ceremony as Rachel’s condition was so grave she might die at any moment. She did not add that it would be a grim farce for she and George to attend the wedding.
That April Dr. John Hastings made one of his regular calls on the dying Rachel. The doomed girl lay deep in a coma.
John Hastings was upset. He asked Joy, “Does your husband realize what is happening?”
“He doesn’t seem to care,” she said frankly.
The young doctor frowned. “When you last visited my office you came of your own accord. Now I’m asking you to visit me again. Come in the late afternoon, so my regular patients will be gone. I must have a serious talk with you.”
“When?” she asked.
“Today at five,” he said.
At five she sat in the shabby waiting room as John Hastings saw his last patient. She wondered what he wanted to say to her. She was certain it had to do with her husband.
The door of the inner office opened, and the stern, young Scot in his white medical jacket invited her inside. She sat as he paced back and forth.
“I had to do a deal of thinking befor
e asking you here,” he said.
“Has it to do with Rachel?”
“More than that,” he said, staring at her grimly. “Rachel is at the brink of death. I have an idea your marriage is close to the same state.”
She glanced down and said quietly, “I’m afraid that’s true.”
“Why do you remain with him?”
“I will not leave while Rachel is alive.”
“That will not be for long, I warn you,” the doctor said. “You should be making plans.”
“When she dies I will leave him,” she said bitterly. “I tried to help him and as a consequence my own life is in ruins.”
“You must rebuild your life,” he said. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“How long has it been since you’ve had sexual relations with Sir George?”
The blunt question shocked her. She stared up at his stern thin face. “Why do you ask?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Oh?”
“Word has come to me from a fellow doctor of something I think you should know.”
“What?”
“I’m breaking my medical vows in telling you, but I think your safety is more important than anything else.”
She realized how deadly serious he was, so she answered the question he’d put to her by saying, “My husband and I have not been man and wife for months!”
“That is the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Has he even kissed you on the mouth? My questions may seem strange but they have a point.”
“We are estranged, barely speaking.”
“You are a most fortunate young woman,” he said.
She stared at him, amazed. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I happen to know your husband is suffering from a loathsome social disease which he must have contacted from some woman of the streets. He is being treated for the condition at this very moment.”
She felt both revulsion and fear. “How long has he been ill?”
“I cannot say with certainty. A month or two at any rate.”
“And you feel there is serious danger for me?”
“A kiss from him could bring ruin to you. I dislike your being under the same roof with him.”
She said, “We have nothing to do with each other. I intended to tell you later. He avoids me.”
John Hastings shook his head. “With his drunkenness it is a risk. Suppose he came home and forcibly took you in his arms?”
“No,” she said. And haltingly she went on to tell him of her husband’s frequent impotency, and his urging her to whip him and engage in other perversities for stimulation.
Sympathy showed on the doctor’s lean face. “I did not guess you’d been forced to endure anything like that!”
“Almost from the day of our marriage.”
“It is no proper marriage,” he said. “You must make up your mind to leave him.”
“I will as soon as Rachel goes.”
He sighed. “Would you resent it if I asked permission to call you by your given name, and ask you to call me John?”
“Why not? You are my best friend.”
John Hastings studied her for a long moment of silence. Then he said, “I know this is the wrong place and time, but I must tell you something. I have fallen in love with you.”
“John!” she exclaimed softly. Rising, she went to him, and in a moment of flooding emotion which followed she knew that she also loved him. He had been her mainstay from the first. If she hadn’t been seeing him regularly she could not have survived the nightmare of living with George.
Holding her in his arms, he said, “I’m in love with the wife of another man.”
She protested, “George has never been any kind of husband to me!”
“I’m a poor man and a plain man. Not worthy of the likes of you.”
There were tears in her eyes. “I find you handsome, and you are rich in ability and wisdom. What else could a woman ask?”
“Joy!” he said her name reverently as their lips met again.
After a moment, she asked, “What will we do?”
“When Rachel dies I’ll take you away. Sir George may oppose any divorce. I’ll take you to the Highlands with me!”
“What about your practice here?”
“I’ve had enough of London. I want to go home!”
“I’ll try to be useful,” she promised.
“You’ll be scandalized for running off and becoming a poor doctor’s mistress,” he warned her.
“I’m sure George will eventually give me my freedom. My father will stand by me.”
“I can offer you naught but my love.”
“I ask no more,” she said tenderly.
It was a turning point for her. She lived under a new tension. She was afraid George would force himself on her; and she felt she must confide in someone. She sought her father out in his office in the House. They sat together in the oak panelled room with its stained glass windows, and she told her story.
Her father nervously stroked his white mustache. “I’m not surprised George has failed miserably as a husband.”
“I know you warned me.”
“His diseased state is a constant threat to you.”
“I must suffer the risk until Rachel’s death.”
Her father sighed. “Then you plan to run off with this young Scots doctor. You realize that may make your divorce from Sir George complicated. Your husband is capable of holding me up for a settlement to give you your freedom. He is a villain!”
“I’m in love with a fine man in John Hastings,” she said.
“So you must follow your heart again?”
“Yes. I believe John will teach me to be a strong human being.”
Her father said, “Your motive is praiseworthy but London will term you a woman of loose morals.”
She smiled wanly. “According to you Canby women have always been wilfull.”
“In the end you will not disappoint me. Nor will James. Hilda has been a good influence on him. I want the family to carry on our traditions. I have only a few years left.”
“You will live and enjoy many grandchildren,” she predicted.
“Where will they come from?” her father wondered. “You have no children, nor has James.”
“We both have time,” she reminded him.
“Your mother is younger, she will live long after I’m gone,” her father said. “I do not worry about you. I think you will find a way out of all this morass.”
She hugged him. “You’re the best of fathers!”
“You will never be short of money,” Sir Richard said. “I will, within the week, send a deposit to the Stewart Bank in Edinburgh. Do not hesitate to draw on it as freely as you need to.”
The following day, she went to visit Hilda in the new mansion James had bought for her. Hilda was delighted to see her and showed her through the large house. Then they sat down to tea.
She told Hilda her story ending with, “I’m only staying with George until Rachel’s death.”
Hilda was shocked. “The man is a drunken beast. If James hears all this I don’t dare guess what he may do!”
“Don’t tell him.”
“You must leave that house!”
“I know.”
Hilda stared at her. “Have you truly made your mind up to run off with this Scots doctor?”
“Yes.”
“You must keep in touch. Write me regularly.”
Finally she had to leave. They kissed goodbye, and she made her way back home. London had come alive in the pleasant spring weather. Flowers bloomed and trees were in full leaf. Carriages, wagons, and two-decker buses drawn by teams of horses filled the streets. Traffic came to a dead halt often, and she was late arriving at Number Twelve.
An angry George awaited her. He demanded, “Why did you not inform me how ill Rachel has been?”
Pulling off her gloves, s
he said, “I’ve tried to. You wouldn’t listen.”
“She is dead,” he said. “A few minutes ago. I’ve sent for that Scots doctor to make the pronouncement of her death.”
Tears filled Joy’s eyes. “There was never any hope for her.”
George had been drinking, his face was terribly red. He snarled, “So she is beyond the hands of that ninny of a Scotsman!”
Joy fled weeping to her own room, and locked herself in. She remained there until a knock on the door and a familiar male voice roused her, “Lady Nason!”
She recognized the voice of Dr. John Hastings and at once unlocked the door. “John!” she exclaimed.
He held her close for a moment. “You’re all right?”
“Yes.”
“Sir George is drinking heavily. He tried to pick a quarrel with me.”
“I can guess!”
“I dread your remaining here!”
“I’ll have to remain for the funeral.”
“Why?” he asked. “You may as well be branded heartless along with unfaithful. And I may as well share the disgrace. Pack your most important things and leave while I’m still here!”
“He’ll try to stop me!”
“Say you’re going to your father’s house,” John said.
“Very well,” she said, hope rising within her.
“Then have the carriage take you to my place. I’ll pack my things tonight and we’ll take the first stagecoach north in the morning.”
“John,” she whispered. Freedom seemed so close.
“Make haste,” he implored her and then went back downstairs.
She packed quickly and put on a black cape and bonnet. When she went downstairs, the undertaker in his hat draped with black crepe was in consultaton with Sir George.
George scowled at the bag in her hand. “What are you up to?”
“I’m going to Berkeley Square for the night. I wish to tell them the news and collect my upset feelings.”
“You dare not leave here!” George raged at her.
At the same moment Dr. John Hastings appeared and said, “The carriage is waiting, Lady Nason. I’ll be happy to give you a lift to your father’s place.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning away from her husband. And she left with the young doctor.
Vintage Love Page 163