by Nancy Carson
‘Oh, well…’ He rolled his eyes. ‘The small matter of a visit from Benjamin this morning.’
‘A visit from Benjamin?’ Her stomach churned. ‘I hope you mean to your works.’
He nodded solemnly.
‘Oh, dear God…What did he have to say?’
‘Just that he knows we were lovers. That you confessed to him about us, that you confessed Christina is mine and not his.’
Aurelia gasped with disbelief. ‘But I did not, Algie,’ she protested. ‘I swear, I would never confess any such thing, especially to him. Believe me, I confessed nothing. Not even that we had an affair.’
‘He said that when he got back home last night you and he had a chat—’
‘So we did.’
‘And that you confessed everything.’
‘I did not. Algie, believe me…He accused me, yes, but I denied everything. I swear to God.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, thanks for trying to protect me…but…’ He buried his face in his hands and sighed ruefully. When he looked into her eyes again, he said, ‘So it was me who let the cat out of the bag.’ He paused as it dawned on him that Benjamin had tricked him into a confession. ‘I reckon my reaction to what he was saying gave the game away. And now he’s going to start divorce proceedings, citing me as co-respondent.’
‘Oh, dear God,’ Aurelia said again.
‘It’s his due. But don’t you think he’s got a nerve, considering his own shenanigans, and the fact that he’s fathered a child with that Maude Atkins?’
‘That would never enter into the equation as far as Benjamin was concerned – or the law either, I suspect. My wrongdoing is a greater sin than his. The fact that he has wronged me is irrelevant. He’s vindictive by nature, Algie, and never considers himself at fault. Whatever goes wrong or displeases him, it’s always somebody else’s fault. Never his. That’s the way he is. It’s not his fault our marriage has failed, it’s mine, of course. Don’t you see?’
‘Whoever is to blame, Aurelia, I want you to understand this – I’m willing to accept my responsibilities. I’m willing to shoulder my share of the strife.’
‘Oh, Algie…Really, I…’
He took her hand again. ‘I want you to know you can rely on me all the way. I’ll be around whenever you need me. Any help I can give, just ask. Please, don’t be afraid to ask…But I dread having to tell Marigold.’ He shook his head in despondency. ‘I dread having to explain everything.’
‘Marigold…’ Aurelia sighed gloomily. ‘Poor Marigold…You know, Algie, when she and I first met at my Aunt Edith’s, and she’d just had Rose, I saw her as my arch-rival because I was also carrying a child by you. Only I knew it of course. Can you imagine how that felt? But as I got to know her, as I discovered so much more about her, I couldn’t help but like her. We used to do each other’s hair, you know, trying different styles. We’d talk for hours. I admired her enormously. She had such courage, such firm principles, and such unswerving loyalty to you. She defended you as though her life depended on it, and I liked her all the more for it. She believed you were lost, gone forever, but that it was all her fault. It would have been so easy for me to let her carry on thinking it. It would have been so easy for me to ignore her strife, to pretend I’d never heard of you. It would have been so easy to walk away, and make a home with you as we’d planned, as if nothing else had happened, as if I had never known her. I couldn’t do it, though. I just couldn’t – I would never have been able to live with myself. I had to tell her that I knew you, that you were not lost after all – that I knew how to contact you. The look of hope and anticipation in her eyes when I told her that…The realisation that after all, she would find you and realise her dream…’
Tears moistened Aurelia’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She let go of Algie’s hand, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.
‘Compared to Marigold,’ she continued, ‘I was in an unassailable position, don’t you see? There was always Benjamin. Because I was already married to him it was so easy to pass off the child I was carrying as his. I believe women do it all the time…And I’m just another such woman – I know I’m no saint…’ Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.
‘So what should I say to Marigold?’
Aurelia shook her head and wiped more tears. ‘I don’t know, Algie. I wish I did. It’s a horrid situation. Despite the fact that she’s married now to the man I love more than anything, I have come to love her too, not just as a sister but as a dear, dear friend. I don’t want to lose her now that I’ve found her, especially since I can’t have you.’
‘You just said despite the fact that she’s married now to the man you love…’ He looked her squarely in the eye and even before she answered he saw the truth manifested in their troubled, misted blueness.
‘Yes, I still love you, Algie…’ She took a deep breath and sighed again vocally, as if trying to exhale her inner strife. ‘With all my heart. Oh, I know we can never be together in the way we wanted to be, and I’ve learned to accept that, but it doesn’t alter how I feel.’
Still holding Christina, he stood up and turned away. ‘I think maybe you shouldn’t have told me. I imagined you were over all that.’
She stood up with him, agitated. ‘I’m sorry. It’s complicated enough. You’re right, perhaps I shouldn’t have said it. It’s just that I’m feeling rather sorry for myself…’
‘I have Marigold to think about now…and Rose. And my mother, of course.’
‘Of course. I do understand.’
‘That’s not to say I don’t think about you, Aurelia. Barely an hour goes by—’
‘Please don’t say more, Algie…’ She sniffed, and laid her hand on his arm reassuringly. ‘It’s Marigold you have to consider now. And Rose.’
‘So what do I tell Marigold? I’m at a complete loss.’
‘The truth, Algie, I suppose. You’ll just have to tell her the truth. We neither of us have an option. It’ll all come into the open anyway if Benjamin does begin divorce proceedings. She’ll be mortified, naturally. I just hope that in time she’ll come to understand and accept things.’
‘I don’t know if I have the heart to tell her, Aurelia.’ He gave the child another hug, and offered her back to Aurelia, who gently took her. ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘I still have work to do.’
‘Of course. And thank you so much for…for being so understanding.’
* * *
Algie returned to his factory, his head swimming with confused thoughts. One minute he decided he must tell Marigold all, the next that he must at all costs try and conceal from her all knowledge of his affair with Aurelia. When he arrived back at the factory he could concentrate on nothing. All he could think of was that he had enjoyed an affair with Aurelia Sampson, that she had had his child, that she still loved him, and that now all his troubles were coming home to roost.
The prospect was made worse by Marigold’s innate sensitivity. He knew his young wife well enough to acknowledge just how easily she was hurt. In the early days of their courtship she had shown how jealous she could be, labouring under the misapprehension then that he was still keen on Harriet Meese. Marriage had not decreased her sensitivity to any noticeable extent, especially at certain times of the month. She would want to know everything; how and when the affair with Aurelia had started, where they met for their trysts, how many times they coupled and where. Not least, she would demand to know whether he still loved Aurelia, whether he loved Aurelia more than her…And she would torture herself with the information and make herself miserably unhappy. Marigold did not deserve that kind of torture.
Whether or not he had the courage or the moral fibre to confess all was irrelevant. Aurelia was right; it had to be done, and he was the one who had to do it. How he did it was up to him. He could not expect Aurelia to do it for him. Once divorce proceedings were in full flow, the local newspapers would be full of the scandal. His own name would be dragged in the mud. The whole world, his
poor mother included, who had suffered cataclysmic tribulations of her own already, would be made tragically aware of the dire consequences of his dallying with Aurelia.
Better that Marigold was prepared for all that.
The sooner it was out in the open, the sooner they could return to some semblance of accord.
* * *
Chapter 9
Benjamin Sampson stepped down from his gig and tethered his horse to a lamp post close to the tiny terraced house he had provided for Maude Atkins on The Inhedge, an impoverished street in Dudley. As his footsteps echoed through the narrow entry that led to the backyard and the door to the house, he was still fuming about the behaviour of that despicable upstart Algie Stokes. His cheek throbbed; it was swollen and threatened to manifest itself as a black eye very soon. Stokes would pay for it and pay heavily. Benjamin Sampson (in his overestimated opinion of himself) was a man of no meagre standing. He was a captain of local industry, a personage respected and admired. He was not the type to tolerate reprehensible attacks on his person by some contemptible ne’er-do-well, without extracting due revenge.
Maude was busy in the brewhouse. It was her wash day, and she was folding napkins she had just collected off the line that was stretched like a telegraph wire between the brewhouse and the house. Hearing footsteps in the entry, she peered round the door to catch a glimpse of whoever might emerge from its dimness. Her first instinct was to smile when she saw Benjamin, but her expression changed to apprehension when she discerned his swollen cheek.
‘What on earth have you done to your face?’ she asked at once, with evident concern.
‘Nothing,’ he answered grumpily.
‘Well, somebody has. You’ve got a black eye coming. What’s happened?’
‘Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.’
‘D’you fancy a cup of tea? I’m parched.’
‘Can a duck swim?’ he replied.
He followed her indoors. Before he sat down in front of the fire he took a peek at himself in the mirror to ascertain the damage to his face. His baby daughter by Maude was asleep in her crib, a picture of innocence that would have moved many a man, but failed to move Benjamin when he peered at her. Maude grabbed the kettle and, in a flutter of apron ribbons and frills, floated back to the yard to fill it. When she returned seconds later she hung it over the coal fire that was burning brightly in the blackleaded grate.
‘So tell me what you’ve been up to.’
He sighed theatrically, raising his eyebrows. ‘You were right all along about Aurelia, though it grieves me to admit it. She’s had an affair, like you said. That second child definitely ain’t mine.’
Maude shrugged with a fatalistic expression. ‘I told you so. Clarence Froggatt’s, I suppose?’
He shook his head and uttered a little laugh of irony. ‘No, Algie Stokes’s,’ he seethed, as if the very name was bile to be spat out. ‘The damned ne’er-do-well.’
‘Algie Stokes, eh? You said you had an inkling.’
He nodded.
‘I must say, I’m surprised she went for him. So how did you find out for sure?’
She took her teapot and tea caddy out of the cupboard at the side of the grate and placed the teapot on the hob to warm, then sat down.
‘Last night when I got back home Aurelia was still up. A golden opportunity, I said to myself. We talked, and I accused her of having an affair with Stokes.’
‘Goodness, Benjamin. But it was a long shot, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh, she denied it, of course.’
‘Well, she would.’
‘Course, but too strenuously for my liking. Anyway, I laid it all on the line about divorce and all that. So today I sought out Stokes at his so-called factory. I said, “Aurelia’s confessed to having an affair with you, and Christina is your child,” I said. And guess what – he fell for it hook, line and sinker. He couldn’t deny it.’
‘So you tricked him into a confession?’
‘Very neatly, I thought. But it serves him right. I told him he’d be cited as co-respondent in the divorce.’
‘You’re going through with a divorce then?’
He shrugged. ‘Do I have a choice now?’
‘What if Aurelia decides to divorce you for your adultery?’
‘It’d never get to court.’
‘It would if she could prove cruelty as well.’
‘How can she prove cruelty? I’ve never been cruel to her. I’ve never hit her. I’ve been a model husband. Generous to a fault.’
‘It’ll open up the question of custody,’ Maude remarked, deliberately broaching a topic that would concern her directly if a court granted him a divorce. She reached for the poker, and prodded the coals to liven them up.
‘For little Benjie, yes. Not for Stokes’s bastard, though. She’s stuck with that. But I’m bound to get custody of my son.’
Maude continued attending to the fire. If Benjamin did win custody of his son, then she, Maude, would be the one to end up being mother to him. She had her own child by Benjamin to consider, and maybe more to come if things turned out how she planned.
‘But it’s not certain they’d award you custody, is it?’ she suggested. ‘I mean, Aurelia could still plead for custody, couldn’t she? I know I would, if I were in her shoes.’
‘She could try, and I daresay she will, but I wouldn’t wager a penny on her getting it.’
‘I think you’re being a bit unkind, Benjamin, if you want the truth. I think it’s heartless of any court to award custody to a father, when that father is out at work all day. I reckon any mother would be only too keen – and better qualified – to look after her own children. And do the courts ever spare a thought for which parent the poor child might prefer to live with?’
‘Whose side are you on, for Christ’s sake?’
‘Yours, Benjamin. Of course I am. I’m just giving you my opinion, for what it’s worth.’
He shrugged again. ‘Well, it might not be my decision in the end. The courts make such decisions.’
‘But you could ask the court to consider awarding custody to Aurelia. That would be an act of kindness, and put you in a very favourable light, don’t you think?’
‘With whom?’
‘With everybody. Including the public. You don’t think such a scandal as your divorce won’t be in all the papers, do you? If you pleaded for Aurelia to have custody you would be seen as somebody compassionate, somebody who cared.’
‘But why should I reward her with custody of my son when you and I both know she’s not fit to bring up a child? And I’d be obligated to pay her alimony for the child as well. No, Benjie should live with me – with us. You would do a much better job of raising him than Aurelia. And he knows you well enough already.’
‘Except that I haven’t seen him for so long. He’ll have forgotten me by now…So how did you get that bruise on your cheek?’
‘Something I said to Stokes about his wife that he didn’t like…The swine assaulted me. I’ve already threatened to report the attack to the police. They take a dim view of assault.’
The kettle was boiling at last and Maude spooned tea leaves into the warm teapot. For the first time that day she laughed, aloud.
‘Maude, what the hell is so funny?’
‘Oh, Benjamin. Don’t you think you deserved it? Sometimes you have no appreciation of other people’s feelings.’
* * *
Benjamin returned home, full of righteous indignation. He hated Aurelia with a passion, the intensity of which surpassed any emotion he had ever experienced before. The love he had felt for her in those early days had been nothing compared to this loathing, this ruthless contempt he now felt. Maude’s suggestions of an alternative scenario he overlooked, ignored, and had already forgotten. Bent on revenge, he was itching to tell Aurelia exactly what he thought of her and her despicable paramour, and hint at the hell to which he was planning to subject them both.
He stormed into the house like a whirlwind, slammin
g the front door behind him. He took off his gloves and hat and tossed them onto the sideboard that faced the grandfather clock in the hall. Nobody greeted him; not the maid, not Aurelia, not little Benjie. For once he felt as if he were a stranger in his own house. It seemed unwelcoming, even hostile. He felt he was no longer king of his own castle. Maybe it was just his imagination; it had been a peculiar day after all, and likely to become even more so.
He sought Aurelia but found only the maid at her labours in the scullery.
‘Where’s your mistress?’
‘Upstairs, I believe, sir.’ Jane’s eyes seemed focused with insolent curiosity on his bruised cheek and darkening eye.
He took the stairs two at a time and reached the landing. ‘Aurelia!’ he called tersely.
A door clicked open and remained ajar. A blue eye appeared, peering at him through the gap. Aurelia opened it fully, stepped onto the landing and closed it behind her quietly.
‘The children are having their afternoon sleep,’ she whispered. ‘What d’you want?’
‘In here…’ He ushered her into his bedroom, which they used to share, and shut the door behind them.
‘Sit down,’ he nodded, indicating the bed.
‘I prefer to stand,’ she replied, eyeing the same neatly made bed with suspicion, lest he try to take advantage of her upon it. Such an outrage would not be beyond him.
‘I went to see your paramour Algie Stokes today.’ He looked into her eyes searching for a reaction, but all he saw was how utterly beautiful her inscrutable face was. Her physical loveliness had captivated him at the very first glance, but the faults in her character were so obvious now that he wondered why he had never perceived them in the first place. She was prey for men, and easy meat; she couldn’t keep her drawers on. ‘You might as well know, Aurelia, that he admitted everything.’
‘Oh? And what exactly did he admit to, Benjamin? Giving you a black eye?’
‘You know what. Don’t play games with me, I’m in no mood.’
‘Neither am I, to tell you the truth. So was it Algie Stokes who punched you in the face and gave you that lovely bruise?’ She smiled, taunting him. ‘It will turn into a real shiner before the night’s out.’