Consequences

by Nancy Carson

  ‘He was her knight in shining armour, I suppose,’ Harriet suggested. ‘Algie certainly felt something for her. I remember the first time he and I met her. He was bowled over. I was there. I know.’

  ‘Well, I blame Algie,’ Clarence pronounced. ‘You can’t go around seducing another man’s wife and not face the consequences.’

  ‘But don’t you think it takes two, Clarence?’ Priss argued. ‘I think I’m on Aurelia and Algie’s side in all this, believe it or not. He could hardly seduce her without her consent and some mutual understanding or arrangement agreed beforehand, could he? And rape hasn’t been mentioned.’

  ‘All the same…’

  ‘No, Clarence, Benjamin Sampson is a creep, and I don’t blame Aurelia for having had an affair if she derived some comfort from it. I don’t blame her for seeking a bit of love and tenderness elsewhere.’

  ‘But with Algie Stokes?’ Clarence remarked scornfully.

  ‘I’ve always thought there’s something very appealing about Algie Stokes,’ Priss admitted, somewhat surprisingly. ‘He’s no Adonis, I declare, but he’s not bad-looking either. He’s a bit of a loner too, so Aurelia probably thought he needed mothering. He’s also a gentle, kind soul who is easy to talk to, and he was very good to his mother through all her travails. I think Aurelia must have yearned for somebody kind and gentle who was easy to get along with and who needed mothering, after suffering that ghastly, bombastic Benjamin for as long as she did.’

  ‘Well, what an admission, our Priss. If you find Algie appealing you’ve never let on. You dark horse.’

  ‘Just because I found him appealing doesn’t mean to say he’s my type. He’s not, at all, actually. I prefer somebody more intellectually stimulating. Algie is certainly no intellectual.’

  ‘He’s no numbskull either,’ Harriet said, also eager to defend him.

  ‘You’re still very loyal to him, eh?’ Priss remarked, which triggered a look of disquiet in Clarence.

  ‘At least he’s enterprising, our Priss. At least he doesn’t follow the herd. He runs a business, which he started himself with little or no help from anybody. He’s employing people, and he’s doing very well by all accounts. I wish him well.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see if he continues to do well,’ Clarence said scathingly. ‘I’m just turning him out of the factory he’s in because I’ve bought the land it’s on. It’ll cost him a mint of money to set up somewhere else, as well as all the costs he’s incurred as co-respondent in Aurelia’s divorce. And serve him right.’

  ‘Frankly, Clarence,’ Harriet said with visible irritation, ‘he might have been in the wrong pursuing an affair with Aurelia – I’m not defending him there – but I don’t understand why you have to appear so vindictive as to wish to turn him out of his factory so soon, and wish him harm in the process. It’ll cause him unnecessary grief, and I should think he’s having enough grief from poor Marigold.’

  ‘I’m not being vindictive,’ Clarence protested. ‘It’s business.’

  ‘It’s almost as if you resent him having been intimate with Aurelia.’

  ‘Nonsense, Harriet. Don’t be so silly.’

  ‘He’s probably still intimate with her, if the truth be known,’ Harriet suggested to Priss. ‘They were both in court in London, according to that report. I’ll wager they stayed overnight, either before or after the hearing. They are certain to have stayed in the same hotel, and if so I’ll wager they slept together, especially if Marigold didn’t go with him. Picture the scene…’

  ‘I see what you mean. While the cat’s away and all that. Well, I doubt if Marigold would’ve gone with him,’ Priss conjectured. ‘She’s seven months pregnant if she’s a day. The train journey to London would not have done her any good at all. All that shaking about – all that bustle.’

  Clarence forced a smile, but it was not a smile of pleasure. ‘I doubt, either, whether Algie Stokes would let such a golden opportunity pass. You can bet your life they spent the night together. More wine, Cuthbert?’

  * * *

  Chapter 20

  Benjamin Sampson had been careful to be first up in a morning and downstairs before Aurelia, when awaiting his first reply from Kate Stokes to a letter he’d sent. He had written, telling her that he would be in London on 26th January, a Thursday, and staying at the Savoy. He had contrived the trip just so that he could see Kate again. Ever since their first encounter he had been preoccupied, his mind full of her almost every waking minute. In his dreams too, she was there, but seemingly unattainable, frustratingly eluding him, an entity wholly uncontrollable, and he always seemed to fail depressingly and ignominiously with her. In the real, living, conscious world he had to pursue her however; he wanted her, and the fantasy of having her was consuming him. Maude, astute as ever, had noticed some preoccupation, his sudden dwindling enthusiasm in their bedroom activities, but she put it down to the lingering impact of the divorce court.

  Meanwhile, Kate replied to his note suggesting they meet for an early dinner at the Savoy, and Benjamin duly travelled by train to London in a fever of anticipation.

  He sat in the Savoy’s elegant foyer with its seductive electric lighting, awaiting Kate’s arrival. He was smoking, his right leg crossed over his left, twitching with nervous expectation, appropriately wearing a black dinner suit, white shirt with a black bow tie. Perhaps he should have offered to send round a carriage to collect her, but there had been no time to arrange such a polite extravagance, which she might have regarded as fawning in any case.

  Kate arrived, typically ten minutes late, and he stood up to greet her with a broad grin, relieved that she had actually shown up. She handed her coat, scarf and muff to a porter, revealing a fashionable, tightly bodiced dress in silver-grey satin with yellow piping, black tasselling around the hem and an alluringly low neckline. Its effect was stunning, and he gasped inwardly as she walked gracefully towards him. Leaning over to an ashtray he stubbed out his cigarette in a fluster and half minded to shake her hand. As if perceiving his mild bewilderment she simultaneously offered both hands, which he took, and her cheek, which he duly kissed, gaining a whiff of her delectable perfume. He declared how lovely it was to see her again – and so soon; the old proverb of striking while the iron was hot flashed through Benjamin’s mind.

  ‘Would you care for an appetizer before we go into the restaurant?’ he asked.

  ‘Why don’t we have a drink at the table?’ she replied with a smile, her diction crisp with no trace of her inbred regional accent. ‘I hope you don’t mind? I only suggest it because it’ll save time. There won’t be much time before the show, and before I go on I have to daub myself in all that stage make-up, have my hair done and all that fallal. It takes an age.’ She rolled her eyes to emphasise the point.

  ‘Very well,’ he said with a nonchalant smile, but disappointed at the prospect of spending only a short time with her, especially after he’d travelled all that way – plus the added expense of a first-class ticket. ‘Time and tide wait for no man – or woman, I suppose,’ he said. Nonetheless, he took her proudly into the Savoy’s River Restaurant.

  A deferential waiter led them to a table set for two at a window overlooking the Thames, which was shimmering with the reflected glow of hundreds of electric lamps. In the restaurant, too, the lighting was subtle, the ambience calm, with only the occasional chink of glasses and cutlery, and discreet conversations. Kate requested her usual Piper-Heidsieck champagne, so Benjamin ordered a bottle, determined to share it, although he would have preferred a robust Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

  Conversation was at first a little stilted while they waited for the champagne. Once it was delivered and opened and she’d taken a sip, however, Kate set conversation on a more informal footing when she asked how things were in Brierley Hill.

  ‘Same as ever,’ he replied. ‘Grubby, smoky, sooty. It’s a dump. You don’t know how lucky you are living in London.’

  ‘Oh yes, I do,’ she answered. ‘You wouldn’t find me going
back to live in Brierley Hill for a pension. Anyway, how’s that wife of yours?’ She looked into his eyes enquiringly.

  ‘My wife?’ he asked, startled, looking up from the menu he’d just opened.

  ‘You’re divorcing her for having it off with my brother, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I am. I can’t wait for the decree absolute.’

  ‘Is she still living with you meanwhile?’

  ‘At the moment – unfortunately. But when the decree absolute is granted she’ll have to go.’

  ‘Where will she go?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Kate. It’s her problem. But she has a relative in Oldswinford. Maybe she’ll go there.’

  ‘Will you have to pay her alimony?’

  ‘I don’t see why I should. Especially as I shall have custody of my son. Maybe Algie will cough up for his daughter.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s only right and proper that he should, if he’s the father.’

  ‘There’s no doubt that he is. Anyway, enough of my divorce. What about you, Kate? You intrigue me.’

  ‘Oh? How?’ She looked at him expectantly, her eyes aglow.

  He took a sip of champagne. ‘To be frank, I’m intrigued that you don’t seem to spend much time with your husband on that vast estate he’s said to own in Norfolk. And you gave me the impression last time I saw you that he comes to London only occasionally.’

  ‘Yes…’ she answered tentatively, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘Why?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘If you think I’m prying…If you don’t want to talk about it, I don’t—’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I don’t mind talking about it – but I’d rather you didn’t blab anything I tell you around Brierley Hill…’ She looked him squarely in the eye now, and he saw again how wonderfully her Maker had constructed her lovely face with those gorgeous brown eyes. ‘To tell you the truth, Ben, my marriage hasn’t turned out how I thought it would. You see, Lionel – that’s my husband – inherited the Deerstall estate when his father died. His mother, though, is still very much alive and she wields a lot of influence over him – too much influence for my liking. Well, when he married me – and it was a bit of a whirlwind courtship – she went doolally. What the devil did he think he was doing marrying some ne’er-do-well actress – a common tart with no breeding, no manners, no money, and not worthy to lick his boots?’ Kate was lapsing into the manner and speech of a Black Country girl in her agitation. ‘Oh, she made such a blinkin’ fuss, you wouldn’t believe. She refused to meet me. Well, I wasn’t going to put up with that. I’m as good as she is any day of the week. So, it was obvious from the start that I could never live in any peace with Lionel with his stuck-up bitch of a mother about, at least not there in Deerstall Hall. We agreed I should move out to his house in Belgravia and carry on working, until she got used to the fact of our marriage. Anyway, he’s stuck with me…’

  ‘D’you think a judicial separation or divorce might come your way at some point?’

  ‘Who knows? It’s possible, if she has her way. Not that I’d let him go without a fight. I mean to say, I ain’t madly in love with him like I was at first, but on the other hand, not every girl gets to marry a wealthy aristocrat, eh?’

  ‘So do you live in London all the time?’

  ‘I refuse to go to Norfolk to be insulted. And in London I can continue working.’

  ‘Quite right too. But has he no backbone, this husband of yours? Doesn’t he stand up for you and your rights?’

  ‘What rights? I have no rights, especially where his mother is concerned. I suppose she’s got me marked down as an interloper, in it for money and the life of Riley…and who would argue with her on that count? Lionel’s young – same age as me – twenty-three, and a bit green if I’m honest. I don’t think it ever struck him that he was expected to keep up appearances, or that it was his duty to protect his family’s good name and honour by marrying somebody with breeding, a title, and preferably a decent inheritance.’

  ‘But he married you for better or worse, didn’t he? Therefore his loyalties lie first with you, not his mother.’

  ‘I hadn’t looked at it that way before,’ she answered, admiration for Benjamin showing in her eyes.

  ‘He should tell his mother to mind her own business,’ he added for good measure, recognising her growing esteem. ‘I certainly would.’

  She shrugged her pretty shoulders and her skin, so smooth, seemed to glisten in the soft light that haloed her from behind. ‘It’s up to him,’ she said. ‘But if he lacks the backbone…’ She shrugged again appealingly, and he thought she seemed like a little girl lost whom he was obliged to protect. ‘Anyway, now you know. Shall we decide what we fancy to eat? Sorry, I hate to hurry you, but…’

  At her suggestion they each perused the menu, neither saying much, but feeling infinitely closer to one another for having shared a confidence.

  ‘You know, wading through a menu in French is like wading through soup,’ she commented, and he laughed. After some deliberation, she said, ‘Well, I think I’ve made my mind up.’

  ‘Excellent. So have I. What have you chosen?’

  ‘The endive salad and then the assiette.’

  ‘Sounds exquisite…Meanwhile, I was wondering, Kate, if I might see you after the show?’

  ‘Well, Ben, as a matter of fact, I’ve got something arranged after the show.’

  He could not read her expression, which was inscrutable. ‘Oh, I see.’ His disappointment was palpable.

  ‘I’ve arranged to meet a theatre critic. Philip Cornbow.’

  ‘A theatre critic. I say.’ Damn. Of course, it would be another man.

  She smiled appealingly. ‘You’re invited too, by the way.’

  ‘I am?’ His eyes lit up and he felt like a child, unexpectedly rewarded for being a good boy.

  ‘Philip’s bringing along his latest conquest. I have a box reserved for the three of you. We’ll do something afterwards, for certain. Is that all right with you?’

  ‘Great,’ he replied with a broad grin. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

  It seemed he was ‘in’.

  * * *

  Benjamin sat alone in the box that Kate had reserved. Philip Cornbow and his new conquest would be along shortly, she assured him as she went off to her dressing room. Philip was well known at the Gaiety, she’d said; in fact Philip was well known at every London theatre.

  As he waited for the couple to appear, he lit a cigarette and surveyed the scene around him. The theatre was filling up with the fashionable elite, and the hum of conversations was increasing accordingly. In the dim house lights, as a match lit a cigar or a cigarette, so another face would become highlighted in its yellow flare, and another wisp of blue smoke would rise into the auditorium. From where he sat in this box, so close to the stage, he could see directly into the empty area the orchestra occupied, its chairs and music stands remaining where the musicians had left them after the previous performance. When the curtain opened he would have an oblique view of the stage, perhaps even into the wings on the other side. He had never seen a show from such a privileged vantage point before. From his recollection of the proceedings, he tried to imagine it from this almost side-on situation.

  Voices and a kerfuffle behind him prompted him to turn his head, expecting to see the arrival of Philip Cornbow and his lady friend. Nobody appeared, however. Meanwhile, the auditorium filled, the musicians took their places, adjusted the positions of their chairs and music stands, and the strident discord of tuning up began. Soon, the electric footlights blazed, the hubbub of chatter from the audience diminished to silence, a spotlight played on the curtain, which opened to a sudden fanfare of music, revealing the chorus of lovely girls high-kicking, swirling and singing. Still there was no Philip Cornbow and his new conquest.

  Benjamin forgot about the promised visitors, absorbed by the visual feast of female glamour on the stage before him. When Kate appeared, she glanced in his direction and he could
have sworn she flashed him a private smile. God, she was so lovely, so eminently beddable, and he wondered vainly whether he could ever be lucky enough to bed her.

  The interval punctuated the show, and suddenly there was movement directly behind him. He turned, and saw a man in his mid-thirties, tall, good-looking, peering down at him with his hand outstretched.

  ‘You must be Ben,’ the man said amiably.

  ‘Ben Sampson,’ he replied and stood up, happy to go along with this shortened version of his name, since that’s how Kate addressed him. They shook hands.

  ‘Philip Cornbow. Delighted to meet you.’ He sat down.

  ‘I understood you’d be accompanied,’ Benjamin remarked, perceiving competition if the man was alone after all.

  ‘Ah, Lottie, yes. She’s stopped off for a pee.’ He wagged his thumb in the direction of the WC. ‘She’ll be here in a jiff. So, you’re a friend of Kate, eh?’

  ‘From her home town.’

  ‘She’s quite a girl, is Kate, don’t you think? Known her long?’

  ‘Not really,’ Benjamin admitted. ‘I’ve been aware of her for a while, though, and curiosity prompted me to see this show a week or two ago. Afterwards I asked backstage if I could meet her and, to my complete surprise, she agreed. I can’t claim to know her well, though.’ Ben reached for his cigarette case and offered his new friend one.

  ‘I will, thank you.’ He took a cigarette, which Benjamin lit before lighting his own. ‘She’s a friendly girl, Ben. Very amenable.’ Philip gave him a knowing look as he blew smoke from his mouth. ‘She calls a spade a spade too. You know exactly where you stand with Kate. By the way, I’m so sorry we’re late—’

  ‘To tell the truth, I thought you weren’t going to show up.’

  Philip laughed enigmatically, releasing another cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘We would have been here earlier, but you know how it is with these girls…’