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Dangerous Decisions

Page 7

by Margaret Kaine


  ‘There was one here when I arrived, and an enormous help she was to me, particularly in the early days,’ Beatrice said, ‘but when she left to go and live with her sister in Wales, I decided to dispense with the need. After all, this is a much smaller house than Graylings and we already had an efficient staff.’ She hesitated then added, ‘In a way it gave me a sense of purpose to use my own capabilities, to know that the efficiency of the household lay on my shoulders. Everyone needs a role in life, Helena.’

  ‘I can understand that.’ Helena wandered around the spacious bedroom and then peered out of the window. ‘I wish this rain would stop. I’m beginning to feel cooped up.’

  ‘You will have Oliver arriving tomorrow,’ Beatrice said. ‘Aren’t you looking forward to seeing the ring he’s chosen?’

  Helena bit her lip. Everything was happening so fast. ‘Of course I am! Papa has hinted at an early wedding … Has he said anything to you?’

  ‘Just an intimation, which is why we have no time to waste.’ She looked at her niece and her tone softened. ‘You will find it hard to leave Broadway Manor; I know how much you love it. We will all miss you, even the staff.’

  ‘I shall miss them too,’ Helena said. ‘I’ve been thinking – I shall need my own lady’s maid, and I’d love to have someone familiar with me.’ She looked hopefully at her aunt. ‘Do you think Miss Hewson could train up Molly?’

  ‘I’ve long suspected that you’ve been too friendly with that girl. I turned a blind eye when you were younger, Helena, but it really must cease. In any case, someone so inexperienced would not be at all suitable. And there you would have made your first mistake – one to learn from,’ Beatrice said. ‘There is a strict hierarchy downstairs. As senior parlourmaid, Ida would be offered such a position first. One needs to be very careful in such things.’

  ‘Ida has a soldier sweetheart – she’s hardly likely to leave him.’

  Beatrice frowned. ‘This inclination you have to involve yourself in the servants’ personal affairs will have to cease, Helena. Otherwise, you will find it impossible to maintain respect and discipline. Remember, most of the staff at Graylings will be older than you, so things will not be easy at first.’

  ‘I know, that’s what worries me.’ And, Helena thought, that’s one reason why I want to have Molly with me; at least it would be someone I could confide in, someone I knew I could trust.

  ‘You can always write to me for advice.’

  ‘I’ll probably send sheaves of letters every day.’ Helena held out her left hand with its bare third finger trying to imagine a sparkling ring on it. ‘Can you believe that tomorrow I shall be officially engaged?’

  Chapter Ten

  Jacob was initially dismayed by Oliver’s formal request for the wedding to be held in London, reasoning that surely the man was aware of the accepted order of such things. It was the prerogative of the bride’s parents – in this case himself – to make these decisions.

  ‘Let me explain,’ Oliver said.

  ‘Yes, but …’ Jacob frowned. ‘You have spoken to Helena about this?’

  Oliver shook his head. ‘No, I thought to mention it to you first.’

  ‘Quite so, although I am sure that Helena has always expected to be married from Broadway Manor.’

  ‘London would certainly be more convenient for many of our guests,’ Oliver said in a casual tone. ‘Among whom I expect there to be members of the government and other politicians. If the wedding were to be held in Lichfield Cathedral, they might consider the journey to be too time-consuming. But of course the final decision on the venue must rest with you.’

  It was now Jacob’s tone that became casual. ‘I wasn’t aware that you had so many friends in high places.’

  ‘I certainly have several acquaintances whom I think would welcome an invitation. And I would of course put my London house completely at your disposal.’

  Oliver watched the conflicting expressions on Jacob’s face. They were sitting comfortably in the older man’s study, a glass of Madeira to hand to celebrate the satisfactory completion of the Marriage Settlement. Oliver had decided to wait until then before proceeding with his plans. His request to hold the wedding at St Margaret’s Church in Westminster was not an idle one. They would spend the first month of their marriage in London; he did not intend to allow Helena to become fatigued by travelling. She would need all of her energies to conceive and as soon as possible. A formal honeymoon could come later after a prolonged stay at Graylings.

  Jacob took a sip of his wine. He had given no hint of his own political ambitions, concluding that it would be wiser to wait until Oliver was his son-in-law before broaching the subject. Therefore, he could hardly accuse the man of using that knowledge to manipulate him. And what he stated certainly rang true: there would be far more chance of parliamentarians gracing them with their presence if the ceremony were to be held at a church adjacent to the House of Commons. On such an informal occasion, one with plentiful champagne, who knew what valuable contacts could be made? From a social point of view, there was enormous cachet in a St Margaret’s wedding with its resultant publicity and coverage in the London national press. And it was a prime location between Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament.

  He said slowly, ‘The convenience of guests should certainly be a consideration.’

  ‘So you are inclined to agree?’ Oliver’s voice was smooth. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of making enquiries and the date of Wednesday, the tenth January is available. A weekday is always more convenient, I find, rather than interrupting weekend plans, and Helena and I will have been engaged for almost four months by then. Ideal, I thought.’

  Jacob frowned. Oliver had always intimated that he wanted an early wedding. The young couple did seem very much in love and Jacob was not so old that he had forgotten what that felt like. Nor could he think of a single practical reason why he should insist on a later date, although there was one matter that troubled him. ‘Oliver, before we discuss this further, might I mention that I would have liked Helena to see her future home before then. It may have escaped your notice, but neither she nor I have yet had the chance to visit Graylings.’

  Oliver leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid I have to ask you to indulge me in this. You see, I have always had this dream that when I did marry, I would bring my bride home to Graylings with the staff lining up to meet their new mistress for the very first time. Believe me, Helena will love the house and her every need will be met. You need have no anxieties on that score. And of course we will then both be delighted for you and Miss Beatrice to visit.’

  He is an eloquent fellow, Jacob thought; clever too. If this were purely a business matter he would have argued his case, but such ephemeral matters as dreams were difficult to refuse.

  The looming wedding overshadowed every aspect of the household at Broadway Manor. Seated before a crackling coal fire, Enid Hewson glanced up from the fine lawn chemise she was holding. ‘As I’ve said before, it’s no easy job being a lady’s maid. I mean – look what tiny stitches this needs. Talk about giving a body a headache. Mind you, mine are nothing like the ones poor Miss Beatrice suffers with; I feel really sorry for her sometimes.’

  ‘Can’t you ask that extra seamstress they’ve brought in to do it?’ Ida fished inside her high-necked blouse to bring out the fine chain on which her engagement ring was threaded. Gently she removed it and, putting it on her third left finger, held out her hand to admire the gleaming small garnet. ‘I attend to Miss Beatrice’s things,’ Enid snapped. ‘The seamstress is concentrating on Miss Helena’s trousseau.’

  ‘Go on, Miss Hewson, you must have caught a glimpse of the wedding dress. What’s it like?’ Annie asked. She cradled her cup of cocoa in her hands. ‘And the veil – is it still goin’ to be the one that belonged to her mother?’

 
‘I haven’t seen a thing – not yet. It’s all top secret. Only Miss Beatrice and the dressmaker are allowed in for the fittings. As for the veil, yes, I believe so.’

  ‘I wish she’d been getting married in Lichfield Cathedral,’ Molly grumbled. ‘Why does it have to be in London? Do you know, Mr Bostock?’

  He removed his spectacles and, taking a white handkerchief from his pocket, began to polish them. ‘Not exactly, but I believe it was Mr Faraday’s wish.’

  ‘I would have liked to have gone from here, with the servants to see me,’ Helena said. She was astounded at her father’s decision. ‘Surely that is the more traditional way. I do think you might have consulted me, Papa, before agreeing to this.’

  ‘Helena, there are several advantages. Your wedding will be one of the major social events of the year. It would hardly have the same impact up here in Staffordshire.’ Jacob had anticipated that Helena might demur, but he had never expected such a spirited reaction.

  ‘Such things don’t greatly concern me,’ Helena said with bitterness. What really irked was that such a decision had been taken between the two men, as if she were merely a – what was the old-fashioned word – chattel, that was it. After all, it was her wedding. Wasn’t the bride supposed to be the most important person on the actual day? ‘I suppose the formal announcement is already drawn up?’

  ‘Indeed, in fact Oliver is going to arrange for it to be personally delivered to The Times.’ Jacob was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He glanced at the portrait of Mary. Would she have thought he was being too high-handed? But women had little knowledge of politics and the importance of influential connections. ‘If you are concerned about the staff, then I have no objection to them having their own wedding celebration downstairs.’

  Helena held his gaze. ‘And before we leave for London, would you agree for me to wear my wedding dress and veil and for them to gather in the hall to see me?’

  ‘That is a little unusual, my dear.’ On seeing Helena’s mutinous expression, Jacob gave a resigned nod. ‘If that is your wish then you have my permission. But I agree with Beatrice, you have allowed yourself to become far too involved with the servants.’

  Still fuming, Helena went back upstairs where the dressmaker greeted her with an anxious smile. ‘I was wondering how many tea gowns you require.’

  Helena frowned. ‘And may I ask exactly what a tea gown is?’

  Beatrice, who was looking through material patterns, turned her head away and said in a low voice, ‘I believe it’s a gown where a lady does not always wear a corset.’

  ‘In that case I’ll have several!’ Helena flounced into a pink velvet chair in the corner of her bedroom. She had never understood why she had to wear one of the detested garments. There might be some purpose in the flesh of a plump matron being encased in whalebone, but for someone with a waist that was already the fashionable twenty inches, it was ludicrous. Then Helena noticed that Beatrice was looking embarrassed.

  ‘You don’t approve,’ Helena said. ‘Why?’

  ‘They are a garment worn by married ladies during three and six in the afternoon when they entertain socially, often alone. All supposedly respectable, but it’s well known that the looseness of the dress can often lead to,’ Beatrice hesitated, ‘other things.’

  Helena stared at her then began laughing. ‘So wearing one of these tea gowns can lead to a scandalous life? Then I shall definitely have several.’

  ‘Helena!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. From what I know of my future husband, he would brook no nonsense like that.’

  The dressmaker, a spinster who always wore black relieved by a single row of pearls, coughed and said, ‘Shall I bring swatches of suitable fabric, Miss?’

  ‘Yes, please do.’

  Later, Helena told Beatrice of the arrangements her father had made.

  ‘But where will the wedding breakfast be held?’

  Helena shrugged. ‘Papa didn’t say. I expect Oliver will already have somewhere in mind. He seems to be the one holding the reins, despite what Papa says.’ She looked at her aunt in some panic. ‘Everything’s happening too quickly; I do think I should have been able to visit Graylings before the wedding. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Now Helena, it’s just wedding nerves. Every bride has them. And as for Graylings, you have seen a painting, and Oliver’s wishes are not unreasonable.’

  Helena gazed down at her platinum and sapphire engagement ring, trying to imagine a wedding band next to it. Was her aunt right, was this how every bride felt?

  ‘You’re being nonsensical, dear,’ Beatrice said briskly. ‘You should be counting your blessings, not looking for problems.’

  But Helena, who was beginning to feel that she was no longer in control of her own life, was still fuming.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rooms in Wimpole Street where Dr Haverstock held his practice were spacious, elegantly furnished, and bore an air of quiet reassurance. Nicholas had found treating patients in such surroundings to be an experience vastly different from his usual crowded surgery. Time was allowed for a leisurely consultation, while the facilities to enable examination were exemplary. The agreed arrangement was that he should assist on such cases that were likely to be onerous. The distinguished physician needed to conserve his physical strength, even though his advancing years had not diminished his medical expertise. The two men had swiftly established a respect for each other, and Nicholas knew he was fortunate to have been given such an opening.

  At last, in response to a hidden button, Miss Barnes came in to usher out his last patient of the day, and Nicholas rose from behind the walnut desk and went thankfully over to a cupboard in one corner of the room. Andrew Haverstock believed in the restorative powers of the grain, and Nicholas had come to adopt his habit of indulging in a small glass of whisky at the end of the working day, with scant regard to the grandfather clock that stood in one corner.

  ‘It wouldn’t do to broadcast it, so just between ourselves, laddie,’ Andrew had said, his eyes creasing with merriment above his bushy but greying beard. ‘Sun not down over the yardarm and all that nonsense. It’s good for the circulation, Nicholas, and after attending to the sick we deserve it.’

  Now with his glass in his hand, Nicholas went over to a comfortable leather armchair and settled down to relax and to read The Times before setting off home. It was several minutes later that he turned to the page of notices and began to scan through them, and it was then that the name leapt out at him. Slowly Nicholas lowered the newspaper. Helena was not a common name. He thought of the tall man he had seen that night. Had he been this Oliver Faraday? Could this be ‘his Helena’, the girl in the casement window? He read the notice again.

  The engagement is announced between Miss Helena Standish, the only daughter of Mr Jacob Standish of Broadway Manor, near Lichfield, Staffordshire, and Mr Oliver Faraday of Graylings, Hertfordshire. Their forthcoming marriage will take place at St Margaret’s Church, Westminster on Wednesday, 10th of January, 1906 at 11 a.m.

  Broadway Manor in Staffordshire and Graylings in Hertfordshire spoke of money, of landed gentry; a far cry from his own rented accommodation, comfortable though it was. Despite what he had achieved professionally, Nicholas had no family security. An only child, his father had been an officer in the Army, but on leaving to pursue a career in the City, he had discovered only too late that he had no talent for business. The shame of ruin through a series of disastrous investments had broken him and he had died when Nicholas was eighteen. His widowed mother had taken up residence in Bath to live with her sister, and only a small trust fund had enabled Nicholas to finish his education and to qualify as a doctor. As he had thought so many times, a privileged young woman like Helena could never share a life like his.

  Of course, it might not be her. Nevertheless, he went over to the desk
to circle the date in the leather gilt-edged diary.

  At Broadway Manor one morning, when they were in the small library, Helena looked up from her embroidery to try to attract Oliver’s attention. For the past half an hour he had been so absorbed in his newspaper that she doubted whether he had remembered her presence. She gave a tiny cough, gratified to see him glance over to her.

  ‘There is something I would like to discuss with you, Oliver.’

  ‘You have my full attention.’

  ‘It’s just that I’m planning to bring Molly, our under-housemaid, with me to Graylings. Miss Hewson could train her up to be my personal maid.’

  Oliver’s expression hardened. ‘My dear that’s not an acceptable choice, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Surely, Oliver, the appointment of a lady’s maid lies within my domain.’

  ‘Yes of course it does, but you must understand that as my wife you will be moving in more rarefied social circles. Such a position needs experience, not the efforts of an untried girl.’

  She knew he was right; Beatrice and Miss Hewson also held that view and Helena had fully expected her first suggestion to be refuted. She smiled at him and nodded. ‘You are quite right, of course. I should have given that aspect more consideration.’

  Oliver’s answering smile was approving, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Helena wondered why it was that when he was being tender, even passionate, she felt completely relaxed with him, and yet at other times – such as now – he managed to make her feel while not exactly afraid of him, certainly nervous.

  Determined, she continued. ‘I do worry that when you are not with me I shall be among strangers at Graylings. I am sure there would be a place for Molly. Perhaps she could be an under-housemaid, with part of her duties to understudy my personal maid – in case of an indisposition. A familiar face would be such a comfort to me, Oliver.’

 

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