The buxom nanny, her stride slow but steady, glanced over to them as the two young women passed by, and as she gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, Cora smiled and inclined her head. Once they had strolled on, she whispered, ‘Would you recognise her again, even without the flower?’
Sybil nodded. ‘I’ll know her. She reminds me of that landlady I had, the one I reckon pinched my stuff.’
‘Right, let’s turn round.’
They followed at a discreet distance as the nanny walked for at least twenty minutes. Although she gave a nod to a few other nannies she passed, Cora noted that not once did she stop to chat.
‘Do you think she always takes the same route?’
‘That’s what we’ll need to find out, Syb. Depending on what Ned says tonight, we’ll come back tomorrow and the next day. Remember – no paint or powder, and iron your blouse and skirt before you come.’
‘Belle’s goin’ to wonder what I’m up to.’
‘Tell ’er you’re off to visit a sick friend.’ Cora slowed down. ‘Look out, she’s leaving.’
They waited until the nanny had disappeared and after a few minutes went out of the gates and began the long walk back to the nearest tram stop. Sybil was quiet on the journey, and Cora too felt thoughtful. When the time came to part and to make arrangements to meet the following day, she said, ‘Don’t worry, Syb. I’ll ask him the question.’
She watched her friend walk away, aware of how reluctant Sybil was to face the night’s work at Belle’s, and of how fierce her hope of escape. And so is my hope of achieving my dream, she thought. But there is a limit as to what even I would do for money. This morning, actually being in the park, had made the whole venture seem far more real, and she felt her first flicker of fear. What if it all went wrong …?
Chapter Forty
That same day at Faraday House, luncheon had been a family affair. Oliver had gone out immediately after breakfast and with Parliament now in recess, Jacob was able to enjoy some relaxation. Yet afterwards when they were taking their coffee in the drawing room, his expression was so serious and thoughtful that Helena glanced across at him with concern.
‘You look worried, Papa. Are there problems at Broadway Manor or with your business?’
‘No, it’s nothing of that sort.’ Jacob hesitated. ‘I was just thinking that perhaps this is an ideal opportunity – while there are just the three of us – for me to raise a certain matter, one that has been much on my mind.’
Beatrice replaced her cup and saucer on the coffee table and gazed across at him. ‘We’re listening, Jacob.’ She smiled reassuringly at him.
He looked at Helena who was sitting opposite. ‘My dear, I don’t think you will be surprised at my confessing that I have lately been feeling rather concerned about your marriage. I was the one who encouraged the match and from my own observations, plus what you have told me, it now appears that Oliver has characteristics that are, how shall we say, rather unfortunate?’
‘There’s no need to worry, Papa, truly.’
‘That may be so, at least to some extent. But I do find it difficult, as I am sure you do, to tolerate his coldness towards little Rosalind.’ There was a pause. ‘One of my fellow members was a physician before he entered the House and I took the liberty of consulting him – in a non-professional way, of course. I merely mentioned being puzzled about a friend of mine.’ Then in a quiet but steady voice he said, ‘Tell me, have either of you heard of the term cacaphobia?’
Feeling somewhat bewildered, Helena shook her head,
Beatrice frowned. ‘No, I don’t think I have ever come across it. What does it mean?’
‘Let me just say that when I explained this so-called friend’s aversion to any type of disfigurement, how he surrounded himself only with good-looking servants, that even paintings of his ancestors were concealed if their faces had the slightest blemish, there was no hesitation.’ Jacob’s expression was sad but resigned as he turned to his daughter. ‘It would seem that we, certainly in the case of your aunt and I, have been somewhat judgmental. The truth is that Oliver could be suffering from cacaphobia, a recognised medical condition. The name stems from the Greek word kakos.’
Beatrice looked puzzled. ‘And exactly what does kakos mean?’
Jacob’s answer was short. ‘It translates as ugliness, and so cacaphobia is …’
‘A phobia,’ Helena said slowly, ‘a fear of ugliness.’ Shaken, she stared at him. ‘You mean – that his unreasonable behaviour is something he cannot help, that it is a form of illness?’
‘I wouldn’t call it an illness exactly, more of a severe phobia.’
She was still feeling stunned. ‘And yet he has never mentioned it.’
‘A man is loath to admit to a weakness, Helena. It could even be that he isn’t aware that it is a medical condition.’
‘I have certainly never heard of such a thing,’ Beatrice admitted.
‘I imagine that not many people have.’
‘And is there any treatment or cure for it?’ Helena’s voice was tense. If only Oliver could see beyond Rosalind’s flawed hands …
But Jacob was shaking his head. ‘Apparently not, at least at present. But I’m told that in medical circles, not least because of Dr Sigmund Freud’s writings, that there is an increasing interest in psychology. So perhaps one day in the future …’
‘Oliver would never admit to it,’ Helena was adamant. ‘He would not countenance any discussion whatsoever.’
Jacob gave a heavy sigh. ‘I fear I have to agree with you.’
Beatrice said with dismay, ‘Do you think Dr Haverstock knows of it?’
Jacob stroked his beard and frowned. ‘Possibly not, after all it was several instances that aroused my suspicions, and he would not have the advantage of those.’
There was a short silence before Helena said, ‘I suppose I ought to have felt some sympathy for his attitude rather than resentment.’
Jacob shook his head. ‘You have nothing to blame yourself for, Helena. How could you have known?’
Helena refused to regard Rosalind’s tiny hands as any form of ugliness but as several minutes later she went upstairs to the nursery, she did wonder whether this new knowledge might help her to understand her husband more. She might never know the joy of sharing her life with Nicholas, but maybe if she could persuade Oliver to be a loving father … But as she crossed the landing and glanced towards her husband’s bedroom, Helena couldn’t help feeling that same familiar dread …
Cora had spent the evening at home. Tired after returning from St James’s Park, she wanted time to recover her energy before she ventured out to meet Ned. And as in the darkness she walked along the pavement to the deserted St John’s Church gardens, she could see him standing before the railings, the end of his cigarette smouldering. As she drew near, he stubbed it out with the toe of his shoe. ‘You’re late.’
‘Not much – only about five minutes.’
He frowned. ‘Timing is of the utmost importance, Cora. Tell me, the accomplice we discussed, you have found one?’
‘Yes, and she can be trusted.’
‘You have kept your word, she hasn’t come with you?’ He moved further out on the pavement and looked both ways up the road.
‘You don’t need to worry. I’m on my own. And while we’re on the subject,’ Cora lifted her chin with defiance. ‘That night in the pub you promised to give me one hundred guineas. You didn’t mention I’d ’ave to fork out to pay somebody else.’
She saw his eyes narrow. ‘How much are you going to be out of pocket?’
Cora thought swiftly. This bloke wasn’t one to try and fool but she could risk adding on another ten. ‘I promised her fifty guineas.’
After a pause he said, ‘Then I suppose I shall have to reimburse you.’
‘I’ve got
a question to ask you.’ Cora’s tone became hard. ‘We want – my friend and me, ter know more about it.’
He drew back slightly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Where I’m to take the kid; if it’s the sort of place those two women ran in East Finchley – you know that Amelia Sachs and her pal Annie Walters – well, hanging was too good for ’em. And I’m telling you now, I’ll ’ave no part in baby killing.’
Oliver stared down at her in indescribable horror. That such a creature as Cora could believe him capable of being involved in murder. His plan might be an appalling one, but never could it be compared to that.
His voice was harsh. ‘What sort of monster do you take me for?’
‘You’re doing what your boss wants, and getting paid a fair sum for it I’ll be bound. He could be a right bad lot for all I know. I’m just saying,’ Cora said with stubbornness. ‘I want a few more details.’
‘All right, I’ll tell you. You’ll be taking the baby to a house in Wandsworth – one with an excellent reputation. You can rest assured that she will be well cared for and eventually placed in recommended and respectable service.’
‘So it’s a girl, then?’
Oliver nodded and watched Cora turn over the information in her mind. He saw no reason to mention that Rosalind would almost immediately be taken out of the country. Even he had been surprised at the ease with which a few discreet enquiries at his club had elicited the information he needed.
‘All right, then,’ Cora gave a brisk nod. ‘I’ll do it.’
He had never doubted that she would. ‘Excellent. Now did you identify the nanny?’
‘Yes, we picked her out early.’
‘So carry on checking her route and meet me here again on Saturday night. I shall then give you the first half of the money, fifty guineas for you and twenty-five for your friend.’
‘And we’ll want it all in coins. Notes get more noticed, they’d draw attention.’
‘I had anticipated that.’ He paused. ‘I want you to make your first try on Monday. Be sure to wait for the right opportunity, though. We can’t risk other people being around.’
‘You needn’t worry, I’ll be careful.’
He remained by the railings watching until Cora was out of sight, then twenty minutes later using his late-night key he entered the empty and now familiar hotel lobby and went up to his room to change, welcoming the coolness of his own fine lawn shirt. Then he paused and stared into the cracked mirror. No, he was not a monster. Helena had been guilty of betrayal, of trying to foist her black-haired bastard on him. No man of honour could be expected to accept such a slur. Yet as he stood in the shabby room, even he had qualms now that the actual time was approaching. Then he hardened his heart. Yes, she would be devastated at first, but once he had impregnated her, once his young wife had another child and this time a perfect one, she would soon forget the first. With a shrug Oliver completed dressing, packed the second-hand clothes away and placed the leather bag behind the curtain, then turning to leave the dingy room, paused at the door and glanced back. It was his profound hope that soon he would be making his final visit and this whole necessary but unpleasant episode would be over.
Chapter Forty-One
Dorothy arrived at Faraday House the day before the dinner party but brought with her news that because her mother was unwell, her stay would of necessity need to be short.
‘In all honesty,’ she said to Helena as they relaxed over tea, ‘Papa is useless in the sick room. He hovers in the doorway for a couple of seconds and cannot escape quickly enough. Truly, he’s much better with dogs than he is with people.’
‘But your mother’s illness is not serious, I hope?’
Dorothy shook her head. ‘Not life-threatening, thank goodness. As you know, she was weakened by scarlet fever as a child and sometimes has these episodes of ill-health.’
‘At least you’ll be seeing Peregrine tomorrow.’ Helena smiled at her friend. ‘I still can’t believe you’re actually engaged.’
Dorothy held out her left hand, admiring the sparkling emerald. ‘Yes and there was I, the veritable bluestocking. But we’re terribly well suited, Helena, and he’s completely supportive of my work for the WSPU.’
‘What about Hugh, has he found a suitable wife yet?’
‘My dear brother has never recovered from his dashed hopes concerning you.’
Helena smiled. ‘You do talk tosh. But let us go up to the nursery so that I can show you Rosalind.’
The following morning after persuading Beatrice not to wear her favourite green dress that evening, Helena went up to the nursery to examine the pile of outgrown baby clothes she had instructed Nanny to lay out. Betsy greeted her with a shy curtsey.
‘I thought,’ Helena said, ‘that while Nanny is out at the park, you and I could decide which of these Ida would find useful. I know you have never met her, but she was parlourmaid at Broadway Manor for years before she married a soldier from the nearby barracks. Her first baby is due next month.’ She was hoping to build Betsy’s confidence, which tended to be swamped by Nanny’s stronger personality.
The young girl’s face flushed with pleasure at having her opinion sought.
‘And afterwards,’ Helena said, ‘perhaps you could make up the parcel and take it to Miss Beatrice’s maid. And could you ask her to pass on a message?’
‘Yes, of course, Madam.’
‘Please could you say that I intend before the end of the summer to come to Broadway Manor for a few weeks. And that I’m looking forward to showing Rosalind to everyone.’
The dinner party was a resounding success. Jacob’s two colleagues at the House proved to be good conversationalists and Angela Shirley discovered an earlier acquaintance with one of their wives. Peregrine’s easy charm always added to any occasion, and afterwards taking a seat beside Dorothy on one of the deep-cushioned sofas in the drawing room, Helena decided that she was now free to relax.
‘I find the custom of “ladies withdrawing” extremely irritating,’ Dorothy complained. ‘Why should it be assumed that serious topics are of no interest to us?’
‘And what serious topic would you raise?’ Helena asked, smiling at her friend.
‘Women’s suffrage of course – did I tell you that I’m going to hear Mrs Pankhurst speak tomorrow morning? There are four MP’s in that dining room smoking cigars and drinking port, yet I have to sit here with the women. And of course the rule is no politics over dinner. You do know the reason given for depriving us of our right to vote – that as women we would be unable to understand how Parliament works!’
‘They can’t really believe that, it’s ridiculous.’
‘I suspect the reality is a fear of their wives’ intelligence. If it were to appear superior to their own, where would be the deference they demand?’
Helena glanced across the room to see one of the parliamentary wives stiffen. ‘Dorothy, I think you’re ruffling someone’s feathers.’
‘I don’t care, to be honest. What ruffles mine is that some women oppose our fight. Can you believe that?’
Helena bit her lip. ‘I know. Even Aunt Beatrice feels that giving women the vote will change the fabric of society.’
‘And how do you feel? I know you support us, but …’
‘They should never have inflicted prison on Annie Kenney for nothing more than trying to stand up for women’s rights. Even I can understand why some are reluctant to be militant, but I fiercely defend their right to have that freedom.’
Oliver was finding the evening a welcome distraction. The seedy hotel, the furtive meetings at St John’s Church gardens seemed a world away from this civilised gathering of well-dressed men and stylish women. Even Beatrice seemed to have made an effort and looked almost passable in a pink-coloured gown. Now, as he entered a drawing room alive with the murm
ur of conversation and the sound of laughter, he saw that Helena was leaving Dorothy’s side and going to converse with Mrs Shirley. It was then as he saw Jacob stroll over to join his daughter that Oliver realised how much he missed Johnnie’s artless chatter. His last postcard from Tuscany had mentioned ‘the delightful Selina’, and Oliver was hoping that at last his friend might cease hankering after Cora. Once he had paid her off, Oliver was hoping neither to see her, nor hear her name mentioned ever again.
As he stood leaning nonchalantly against the mantelpiece he returned his attention to his young wife. In shimmering blue silk with a revealing décolletage, she would be a temptation to any red-blooded man. As she had been to the music tutor – it had not been difficult to use his influence to make the fellow’s life untenable; the man would never return to England. And if all went well, very shortly neither would his bastard. No, that regrettable episode could now be relegated to the past; not that Oliver would not find some subtle way of causing Helena to regret it.
It was then that she turned and saw him staring at her. For one moment she hesitated, and then gave a small smile. Oliver inclined his head, aware with satisfaction of a definite thaw in her coolness towards him. However, it was true what they said – revenge was better cold. When stricken with grief she would turn to him for comfort and affection – then he would take her.
Chapter Forty-Two
On that same evening, Nicholas was also enjoying a dinner party where he found himself the centre of attention of not only one, but two attractive young ladies. The whole scene was being watched with considerable amusement by Andrew Haverstock, whose motive behind the invitation to dinner had, Nicholas now realised, been far from an innocent one.
Elspeth and Louise Murray were the twenty-year old daughters of Mrs Haverstock’s cousin who together with her husband, a professor at Aberdeen University, were spending the summer in London. Nicholas supposed that as he was a bachelor becoming established in his profession, he would naturally be regarded as a possible and eligible husband. And even he had to admit that the light-hearted repartee and flirtatious teasing being directed at him was rather a pleasurable experience.
Dangerous Decisions Page 24