by Anna Jacobs
“Things looking bad?” Den asked softly.
“Not wonderful. Don’t tell them why you’re here. I don’t want to upset Serena unless I have to.” Marcus too spoke quietly. “Fleming actually had the cheek to come out here and make veiled threats. It upset her, but she stood up to him beautifully.”
“I like your wife. Now, hadn’t we better join her?”
Marcus led the way to the kitchen. “Look who’s here! Den was visiting a friend nearby and decided to come and spend a night with us.”
Serena smiled at the cheerful young doctor. She hoped she’d kept the smile on her face, but she’d guessed at once why he was here. Marcus was protecting her again. Well, it made a nice change to be protected instead of used. She went round to offer Den her cheek while Pearl set a place for him at the table.
Aunt Pamela, who had insisted on joining them and was sitting nearest the fire wrapped in a thick shawl, looked disapproving as Marcus brought Den round to be introduced. “In my day we didn’t entertain our friends in the kitchen.”
“I’ve eaten in worse billets, believe me, Mrs Lonnerden,” Den said easily.
“You’re another soldier who’s survived the war, I suppose,” she muttered.
He waggled one hand at her. “Lost a few fingers, though. I was a doctor in the Army. Glad to be out of that sort of thing now, I can tell you.” He cast a professional eye over her yellowish complexion and extreme thinness, but said nothing. When he saw the changes in her nails and the slight tremor of her hand, he guessed what ailed her. He’d seen that look before. You couldn’t mistake the symptoms of renal failure.
She looked at him with eyes that said she knew what he was thinking, then looked away with a sigh.
He set himself to cheer everyone up and soon had even the two elderly maids laughing.
After the meal, however, Pearl stood up and said, “I’ll just go and get the fire blazing in the sitting room, shall I, then you can move in there?”
Marcus smiled at her. “Thanks, Pearl.” A few minutes later he offered his aunt his arm and led her through to the sitting room, moderating his pace to hers because she didn’t seem able to walk very fast these days. Den strolled behind them with Serena.
To everyone’s relief, Aunt Pamela didn’t stay with them for long and soon said she must seek her bed.
She was walking so slowly that Marcus started to get up to help her. Den tugged his sleeve, mouthed, “I’ll do it,” and went outside with her. She stopped at the foot of the stairs with a sigh and he said gently, “Let me carry you upstairs, Mrs Lonnerden. You don’t want to overtax your strength and I gather you’ve been quite ill.”
“I wish I’d died,” she said bitterly, but let him sweep her into his arms.
“Have you seen a doctor lately?” he asked after he’d set her down on her bed.
She nodded. “I know what’s wrong with me, young man, but I haven’t told anyone the details and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your knowledge to yourself.”
“Of course. But if there’s anything I can do while I’m here, I’m at your service.”
“I thought you were just staying overnight.”
“No. Marcus thinks Fleming is going to make another attempt to control Serena, even set aside their marriage. I’m here in my capacity as a doctor, in case I’m needed to verify that she’s in full possession of her mental faculties.”
“That man should be taken out and shot.” Acid edged her words. “He was a bad influence on my son Lawrence and if I could see him get his just desserts, I’d die a happy woman.”
“Fate doesn’t usually tie things up so neatly, I’m afraid. But I won’t let him lock Serena away, I promise you. And now, dear lady, let me send up your maid to help you to bed. I’ll come and see you in the morning, eh?”
When he went back into the sitting room, his expression was still shadowed and Marcus asked if anything was wrong. He shrugged. “Your aunt isn’t a well woman.”
“No, poor thing. But she’s better than she was, at least. We’ll have to try to feed her up.”
Den didn’t contradict him on this. He preferred to let patients decide how much they told their families about their condition. Well, he did when they weren’t soldiers trapped in a system overloaded with rules and regulations.
After that the evening passed swiftly. At ten o’clock, Serena left the two men talking and when Marcus went to open the door for her, whispered, “Don’t hurry up if you want to chat to Den.”
“Thank you. I thought I’d try to persuade him to stay for a few days. He’ll cheer us all up. That all right with you?”
She smiled. “Of course it is. But I know perfectly well why you brought him here, so you don’t need to pretend his arrival was an accident.”
“I shall have to learn not to underestimate you. You’re still too quiet and I forget that you’re a clever woman—as well as a pretty one.” He kissed her cheek and watched her mount the stairs, appreciating the trim ankles showing beneath a dress she and Pearl had altered.
As he went back to join Den, he decided that a man wanted—no, needed—to protect the woman he loved. Theirs might be a quiet love, for neither of them was demonstrative or outgoing, but love was growing between them nevertheless, taking root like a sturdy plant which would, he hoped, only grow bigger and stronger as the years passed.
Smiling at himself for such fancies, he went back to talk to his friend.
Evadne came home that evening full of excitement. “I went to lunch with a friend and Justin, you’ll never guess who was there, looking awfully ill at ease?”
“Who?”
“Mrs Hammerton. It seems her husband has been putting pressure on some of my friends’
husbands to get their wives to include her in women’s social events. It won’t work, you know.
You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear and she’s an ill-educated bore. Just having her there put a complete damper on the group, I can tell you, because no one likes her husband. Mind, one can’t help feeling sorry for her, she’s such a poor drab of a creature, for all her fine clothes and jewels. And she knew we didn’t want her there.”
“Did she say anything of interest?”
“Nothing specific, but she did let drop that her Cyril is angry about something Mr Fleming has done.”
“How on earth did you get her to say such a thing in public?”
Evadne winked at him. “She didn’t say it in public. I went up to powder my nose at the same time as she did, and I was so friendly she confided in me, saying she knew we’d been forced to invite her and was sorry about that. I told her she must come to my next luncheon and she accepted gratefully. Mind you, I doubt her husband will let her, because he’s one of those anti-Votes for Women types and he was one of those who shouted rude things when we marched through town. He still glares at me if we so much as pass in the street.”
“You’re a clever woman, Evadne.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
What, Justin wondered, had Fleming done to make Hammerton angry?
Hammerton stared at his wife and resisted the urge to thump her, because it wouldn’t do any good. When she was afraid she became twice as stupid. “Don’t you know that Evadne Price is the cousin of Redway?”
Jean blinked and shook her head.
“What exactly did you say to her?”
“Nothing much, just small talk. We met when we were both powdering our noses.”
“Going for a piss, do you mean?”
She flushed and began to shake. “Please don’t be so crude, Cyril.”
He scowled at her. “What—did you—say to her?”
“All we talked about was how good the food was and then she said I must go round to her house next time. I th-thought you’d be pleased about that. You want me to get to know the right sort of ladies.”
“The right sort, yes. But there are certain people who are not useful to me. She’s one.”
“Perhaps if you wrote me a list, I c
ould avoid the people you don’t want me to know?”
If he gave her a list Jean would only betray herself with those people. “I’m glad you’re trying to mix more, but don’t go to the Price woman’s house. Accept her invitation but send word that you’re ill at the last minute. Right? That way she can’t take offence.”
“Yes, Cyril. How clever!”
He looked at her with disfavour. What was the point of earning a lot of money on black market ventures if you had a wife like this one? No matter what sort of clothes he bought Jean, she always looked what she was: a plain, plump and rather stupid woman.
“I’ll—um—go and check how Cook is doing.”
Was all she was good for, running his house? Indeed, she got on better with their cook than she did with the well-off ladies she should be associating with. She was of no help to him socially in his new role as one of the richest men in town.
Nor was Fleming, who seemed to be behaving very strangely lately, as if he thought himself above the law. Not wise, that. Of course, Fleming was somewhat concerned about his gambling debts. He wasn’t as good a card player as he thought and when the gambling fever gripped him, didn’t bother to keep count of how deep he was getting.
Most people were fools, even the so-called clever ones.
As they got the shop ready for opening on Tuesday, which was Christmas Eve, Aubrey told Ted he had a friend staying with him, a friend who didn’t want to be seen by Fleming or his men.
Ted shot him a quick glance. “There seem to be a lot of people at odds with your father lately.”
“He’s been setting a few backs up—but then he always did.” More memories slipped into place. “I can remember as a lad being beaten up by some other boys. He was furious that I hadn’t hurt any of them in return, but I never was any good at fighting. So he had them beaten up and they didn’t come near me again—nor did anyone else, even those who’d been friendly before.”
“Must have been lonely.”
Aubrey nodded. “But I did have my sister. Anyway, enough of that. My visitor is still in bed.
He was very tired, hasn’t fully recovered from his war injuries yet. I’ll introduce him to you later.”
From then on they were too busy to chat. It seemed as if everyone who needed to buy a last-minute Christmas gift had decided on a book and wanted advice about choosing just the right one.
Which sent coins clinking into the till and had Ted looking pleased.
Jim stayed upstairs for most of the day and took a nap in the afternoon, so what with the busy shop, there never seemed to be a convenient time to introduce him to Ted.
As they were closing up, a group of three scruffy-looking carol singers appeared and sang
“Good King Wenceslas” with more vigour than skill. Ted gave them sixpence and let them each choose a book from what was left on the penny tray. After that he looked at the clock and said, “I reckon we can close now. I want to go home and you said you needed to nip along to the market for some more food.” He pressed a small envelope into Aubrey’s hand. “Your wages. Have a good Christmas.”
When he’d gone, Aubrey ran upstairs to tell Jim he was going out to the market, then did a rapid round of shopping. He’d been invited out to the Hall the following day for Christmas lunch and was going to risk taking Jim with him—if his friend could be persuaded to show his face in daylight. He was quite sure Serena and Marcus would welcome any friend of his and he’d buy a cake or some biscuits to take along as an extra present. People at the markets were relaxing the food regulations a little, unofficially of course, but no one was reporting the infringements.
While he was out he nipped over to the Weaver’s Arms to wish Mrs Beamish a merry Christmas and give her the small present he’d bought—a book, of course.
“And here was me thinking you’d forgotten me,” she teased. “Wait there.” She nipped into the back and came out with a plate covered in layers of greaseproof paper. “I’ve got a cake for you.
Keep it in a tin and it’ll last for days. Why don’t you come back for a drink later?”
“Not tonight. I’m exhausted after being on my feet all day and I’m going to have an early night. After Christmas, maybe.”
She pulled a face. “Come tomorrow night, then. We’ll be closed, but you’ll be here as my guest, not a customer.”
“Well, maybe just for a quick drink.”
“If you don’t turn up, I’ll come and fetch you.”
He smiled as he walked home. She was a lovely woman. It was good to make new friends.
She, Jim and Ted weren’t the sort of people his father would approve of, but he didn’t care about that. He liked people who were warm and friendly, decent people without any pretensions.
After Christmas he’d go and see his father, face up to his past. But for now he just wanted to enjoy his first peacetime Christmas for several years.
On Christmas Eve, Ernest made arrangements which would show certain people that he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. After that he went to the club, because he had nowhere else to go and to his annoyance, had found he wanted company on this night of supposed celebration. Though what there was to celebrate with a son like his, he didn’t know.
To his surprise the house seemed empty without his daughter and he actually missed her. And Serena was his daughter, because he was the one who’d housed her and reared her, not James Lang. She’d been quite a nice little child and he’d enjoyed people commenting on how pretty she was or how clever.
She might not have done him credit as she grew older, the cunning bitch, but she had still been there, someone to talk to. Or she had been until she took it into her head to run off to marry that fellow. There had to be a way to force her to come home again, a way to get the marriage annulled. He’d get Tolson to swear she was still a virgin. The man would do anything to have some of his gambling debts cancelled.
Ernest looked round, scowling. A house was so more comfortable with a mistress in it, and Serena had been good at running things, very good. He could see that now that the little touches were missing, the flowers, arrangements of leaves, small items of comfort set just where you needed them.
If he could get Frank back and see him married to a suitable young woman from a good family, there would be no need to re-marry, something Ernest didn’t really want to do. If he had Serena here again, that would be enough.
There were Christmas Eve parties being held by some of the town’s leading citizens, he knew, but this year he’d not received any invitations, which had surprised him. He’d have to look into that in the new year, make sure one or two men who were under obligations to him started inviting him round to dinner again. Only he needed a woman to be his hostess when he invited them back, dammit.
He’d treat Serena more carefully when he got her back, show her he valued her. That was where he’d gone wrong with her, he could see that now.
He met Hammerton at the club, but no one else was there whom he knew or wanted to know, just a couple of old fogies who had no family and almost lived here. “Where is everyone?”
“They’re all at home with their families,” Cyril said. “Or at the Pulvertons’ party. They didn’t invite me this year. I’ll make sure they regret that. Fancy a glass of claret?”
“Lovely.” Ernest sat down, feeling better already for having some company. But after they’d dined, conversation flagged a little.
“Fancy a few hands of cards?” Cyril asked.
“’Fraid I can’t afford it at the moment. You’ve been too damned lucky lately.”
“I’ll take your IOUs. I know you always pay in the end.”
“You’ve got too many of those already. No, I think I’ll have an early night. And you’ve got a wife at home. Won’t she be missing you?”
“She’s fussing over the grandchildren’s presents. I came out to escape that. You sure you won’t play?”
“Certain.” Ernest stood up. “I’ll see you after Christmas.”
“Mmm
. Want a ride back?”
“No, thanks. It’s not far. A walk will do me good.”
But his way led past his offices and he scowled at the blackened ruins. The fire had held off inquiries for a time, but what the hell was he going to do now about paying Hammerton back? He couldn’t hold on to Serena’s annuity for much longer and the annual payment that he needed so much wasn’t due until April.
He entered his house feeling aggrieved and when Ruby came to take his coat, so far forget himself as to snap at her.
She looked at him in shock.
“Sorry.” He studied her. Not a bad looking woman. “Bring a tea tray to the sitting room, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
When she came in with it, he stood up and took it from her, seizing the opportunity to press her breast.
She jumped back like a scalded cat.
“Why don’t you join me in a cup, Ruby? You must have been on your feet all day.”
She edged back to the door. “No, thank you, sir. It wouldn’t be right.”
Clearly she wasn’t free with her favours. He scowled then shrugged. Better that way, really.
He’d send a message tomorrow to a man who was sometimes of use to him and who could always provide a woman to see to his needs. You had to celebrate Christmas one way or the other.
Scowling at the tea tray he went across to the decanter that always stood ready nowadays, pouring himself a big glass of brandy. A man needed something to make him sleep.
Chapter 16
Christmas morning dawned with lowering skies and a threat of rain. Aubrey got up later than usual and since there was no sound of Jim stirring in the attic bedroom, he made his way downstairs, shivering in his dressing gown. He opened the damper on the kitchen stove in case there was any residual glow that could make it easier to get the fire blazing, then he went out to the lavatory.
When he came out of it, he found his way barred by two men, one of them Sam Hudd, and was so shocked by this unexpected sight that he couldn’t for a moment move a muscle. As they advanced on him, he let out a yell but they grabbed him and although he struggled, they were far stronger than he was and it didn’t take them long to subdue and gag him.